#understanding her...

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Don't you just love those moments when things just click Sitting at my desk at work and feeling very day dreamy and frustrated that I'm not getting enough work done because of this.... then, suddenly I figured out the plot to my "Understanding Her..." fan fiction Hello inspiration, goodbye year long writers block!!! (Don't expect anything very quickly though sorry 😐 I often struggle to find time for my creative writing these days)

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I'm tired and I want to go to bed. But the perfect song came on my iTunes under the perfect circumstances; cool gentle breeze, the day's humid air finally dispersing, but the rain ominous... The bird song slowly crescendoing in the background.... I want to write. The writers block I've have for MONTHS, that has stopped me from finishing "Understanding Her...", is finally lifting and I need to go to fucking bed because I have work in the morning and need a good night's sleep. This is the definition of FML

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Understanding Her... (Chapter 8)

All chapters of Understanding Her... can be found on my Wattpad - http://www.wattpad.com/story/15287390-understanding-her

But for all those who might not be able to get onto my wattpad, below you will find the whole of Chapter 8.

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Previous

And in those eyes he stared, just then, still feeling as at home in them as he had before. His first friend, his only friend. He had long since thought her dead. Her promise to return faded into a memory; yet in his mind he could not bare to consider her purposely not returning. Thus, he had shaped the memory, devising that her promise was not a promise at all, merely a wishful thought she had expressed. For he could not bare having been abandoned by those soul piercing brown eyes.

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"When?" Artemisia breathed.

He spoke with such conviction and solidarity, she could not not believe him. Only, she doubted that she would ever dare do anything as adventitious as running off to find a whole other dimension, steal a dress and crash a royal party. She may have daydreamed of such adventures to pass the day, but she never so much as even dared fake illness to get out of work and go shopping. She didn't even dare go on a date with a guy she'd known for two years because it was too much of a 'change'.

"How can I have been where you said I have been and I have no recollection of it? I don't even have any black spots, no missing memories, no missing days. Everything... Everything in my mind makes sense, except this." She let the words form themselves, as her confusion and disbelief grew.

"You were there; in flesh and blood. As true as you are here now..." His brow furrowed, "You think I would conjure this up? Tell you lies, trick you? For what purpose? Do you think I would tell you such a story for... For what?!" He crescendoed as his confusion mirrored Artemisia's. He voice rose to a stern bark, just a few decibels away from yelling at her like an aggressive and wounded animal.

Albeit, feeling offended by his tone, Artemisia ignored her defensive instinct - as she always has done - deciding it best to humour him. Although she could not deny his conviction, she could not truly believe it in her heart until she had logical evidence. After all having such a logical and factual based career as she did, only meant that her habits and her judgement had always been driven to reflect that. Her parents may have been professors in science and history, but her choice in degree had only been a more sturdy version of theirs; law and economics. Worthy of the respect her professor parents, but the more logical degree choice they had driven her to. Not the free-spirited philosophy and other creative courses her subconscious mind had been driven towards.

"I did not mean to offend you, it's only I have been moulded and driven towards basing truth off hard evidence. How long ago was this night? Do you have a date? Perhaps if I knew the finer details I could uncover the truth as to why both of us remember it differently."

Clearly humouring her in return, the king drew in a gentle, deliberated breath, "It was a mere six years ago for me, though for a moral-raised as yourself I suppose that would seem like a quarter of your life." He acidly scoffed at the concept of the minuscule lifespan of morals, his superiority unavoidably evident.

"Six years years ago I was still at university; in my last year all I did was study. A lot has happened in six years, and yet nothing at all." Artemisia pondered on how long six years seemed and at how little she had accomplished in that time. Sure she'd got a good job in a firm in the city but she hasn't had a holiday since she started there; her boss exploits the fact that she needed the money and she become stuck in a committed-to-work-over-hours rut.

"How could I have forgotten something like that? You said I spoke of different realms, of my travels...? But I've never been anywhere except the odd holiday abroad when I was young, back on earth." She paused sensing, due to a sharp intake of breath, that her denial of the event being true was grating on the King again. "Or at least not that I can remember..."

"You blended in well, when I first saw you you were admiring the different flowers dotted around the halls. You looked most at peace staring at the flowers, stroking them as if you could hear their thoughts. I knew then you were very different to the rest of the boring nobles in the room. And the way you moved, amongst shadows but with grace and discrete swiftness; I knew then you were not one for being the centre of attention. I assumed you to be a commoner in disguise, but when I followed you on to that balcony, your first words to me made me realise you were a much greater delicacy. When I confronted you about your obvious intrusion, you merely said, 'I may not be a noble by name or known to you, but who's to say that what runs through these veins isn't the most noble of blood, why don't you cut me open and see how my blood is the colour of the rarest of rubies?' You both managed to threaten me and surrender yourself all at once. Of course I chose to give you a moments glory and indulged your stubbornness, only to discover your sharp attitude was easily dulled by pleasantries. Soon enough it was your words pleasing me, your stories and your passion for the smaller aspects in life pleased me greatly. Yet your promise to return pleased me the most."

"I'm sorry" Artemisia responded, sincerity embedded in her words.

"You're sorry?" Her apology seemed deep, not the response he had expected from his lost then found, amnesiac friend.

"I'm sorry that I broke my promise. Had I had any recollection of the events I would have come back. I don't make promises that I cannot keep, and I never break promises without giving my reasons and arranging alternative arrangements to make sure I keep them. For that I am sorry. I hope that over time I can mend that broken promise."

There was not much more either could say to the other; Artemisia could not remember this alternative lifestyle she seems to have lived, and Loki could no more force her to remember than he could force a stone to bleed by yelling at it. All they had was the reassuring mutual feeling that lingered in the air, the general consensus that no matter what, Artemisia being in Asgard was right - memories or no memories. He was right to have searched her out, and she was right to have taken his hand.

The silence that then surrounded them, stretched like a lethargic cat dozing in the midday sun; no more interested the catching the wildlife that surrounded it than lazily enjoying it's presence. A silence so quiet a stranger might consider it awkward, however the two comfortably respected each other's pondering as they sipped their wine nonchalantly.

The evening had reached it's darkness, the night's sky a rich deep blue-black, dappled the brightest of stars and with cloudy reds and golds of the distant galaxies. The desserts lay before both Loki and Artemisia untouched.

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Understanding Her... (Chapter 8)

(At long fucking last I hear you cry!)

Posting it via mobile (links to my wattpad) hopefully the link works! Sorry I posted it later than I planned, moving out from from my Uni flat proved to be a laborious and tedious task indeed…

http://w.tt/1rb8pO9

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Thought I’d start a Wattpad, and put ‘Understanding Her…’ on there.

Enjoy and reblog

:D

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Wow. So far my story Understanding Her... is 13,808 words and 23 pages in Word. I feel like a proud mama bear with this story...

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Understanding Her... (Chapter 7)

(All chapters)

And that she did. At a loss for words, the empty shell of a king sat. He simply sat and observed the increasingly intriguing creature adjacent to him. This wonderful creature he knew so much and yet so little about. This wonderful creature who knew him, yet did not know him. This creature who’s heart was the same as he had recalled, yet who’s eyes were darker and more hollow than he had anticipated.

Extending into the very depths of his mind, reaching for the most basic of functions, he leant forward and spoke, “You are not as you should be are you? You really are so much more.”

Chapter 7

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Puzzled by his words, as they hung heavily with their slight connotation, in her mind; Artemisia was now the one who sat silently. Her furrowing brow the only hint of emotion etched on her face.

Now this amused him, clearly. The corner of his mouth rose in a swift controlled smirk. “You are most endearing when you frown with confusion.”

It seemed to Artemisia that Loki was indeed not letting on to whatever it was that he knew, and although Artemisia new she had the patience to wait for him to reveal his secret to her (she had nothing like a high demanding job eating into every hour of her day anymore, she had the rest of we life to sit and wait), she could not help but want answers now. His increasing arrogance was only feeding Artemisia’s insatiable curiosity further; the undertones in his words slowly testing her patience. Fine, if you’re going to be cryptic, then I’ll be crude and cynic.

"What you mistake as endearing, is merely love of being the one who is in control; who is in the know. Seeing me confused simply fuels your desire to be the one with the advantage." Artemisia raised her eyebrows at him, inviting him to deny her words; to correct her. She raised her spoon of fruit and cream to her mouth, tasting the sweetness and she savoured the moment.

The king continued to smirk, yet it was smirk of humour, admiration and of respect… “If you realise it is such, then why do you not try to change that? Put the sword back in your hand… Take back the fight?” He smiled inviting her to take up his challenge, as his demeanour straightened with self-righteousness.

"Alas, you clearly do have the upper hand, as you clearly know something I do not. Something that concerns me, and I am assuming that that information concerns my reason for being here; why it was that you found me and brought me here. But it’s an undeniable fact that I do not know how it was you found me, or why you did. All I know is that the only reason I took your hand was because in your eyes I saw the pain and rejection I had experienced most of my life. I saw in your eyes what your heart looks like; I saw that you were as misunderstand and ignored as I have been. All because we were different; because we wanted to be ourselves, and we wanted more than what the world expected of us. We were born different and were expected to be normal. When we are not. We have the potential to give so much. That’s what we were born to do. To give. Not like some millionaire who gives all his money to charity. But like a wise man to a young boy. You and I, both of us, were never seen for the deep thinkers we are. We were never appreciated for the talents life bestowed upon us. You may have been born to be an intelligent ruler, where as I was born to be an empathetic, deep thinker. But we were both ignored as real people. So you may know something I do not, but I know something you do not. And I am willing I share that with you if you are willing to hear me?" Taking his silent intrigued expression as a sign, Artemisia continued, "You found me because you need me. I am the only person in a long time, possibly ever, to see you for who you really are. And I hardly know a single fact about you; all I know is what your eyes tell me."

"Mia. Oh Mia." The king sat before her faded from existence, leaving behind just a man. No titles. No power. No the facade. No anger. Just a man. He breathed her name with such affection, like an ancient lover, wounded by the painful joy of seeing their soulmate return - conflicted by the pain they endured when their soulmate crushed their heart, and the joy of their soulmate returning regretful.

"You remember nothing at all. Yet you see so much. When you took my hand, I knew even then that you did not see me as you once did. That you had forgotten everything about us. At first I thought perhaps it was shock, that seeing Asgard again would restore that memory, but still you walked beside me not knowing me. And still you do not now… You have forgotten me." His words floated through the air lethargically as his heart filled with the pain and weary disappointment of yet another person undermining him… Forgetting him. "Do you not recall our first encounter at all? Do you not remember? How can you speak as if you know me, as if you care so much, when you cannot even remember my face? That night? Did you merely forget over time, or did you forget me through choice?" He spoke not with anger, but with a weary tiresome disappointment; he trusted no one anymore, so had no room to feel betray, yet it was clear that a piece of him had hoped, but instead was now hurt.

A past encounter? I have never seen his face before, I would remember that. I would definitely remember his face, it’s hardly a face worth forgetting…

"I… When? Yours is not a face I would forget easily," she continued in a whisper, a light blush filling her cheeks, "or willingly."

Loki’s eyes scanned her face; his gazed boring into her, searching for any sign of a lie. None was to be found. He inhaled steadily and sighed, giving in to her obvious plea for answers.

"On your last visit to Asgard. On the night of Thurseblot; the feast of the full moon of January." Loki continued to add more and more detail to his story as he watched Artemisia’s face twist in more and more confusion. "Thor’s feast" he added with delicate, but sinister, venom and spite.

"You were quite clearly not of royalty or nobility, judging by your attire. But they way you held yourself with confidence and walked in the shadows, so as not to draw attention to yourself, made sure that you did not stand out to any. Not to anyone but me of course. I pride myself for always observing all of the details, and I was the only one to notice you were not meant to be in the great hall as you were that night. I thought you may simply be a daring peasant from one of the villages, who had stolen the best dress they could find from their mother’s collection. But you proved me wrong on that front."

Artemisia could not believe the words she was hearing, none of it triggered any forgotten memories, no flashes of details, no glimpses of it having once been a mere dream. None of it sounded real.

"I followed you onto a quiet balcony, where I questioned you until you told me how you really came to be there." He paused surveying her bemused expression, "You really have no recollection of this? Of the whole night?" Loki’s face softened as he saw that she had no genuine memory of the events he relayed to her.

"You told me from the start you were mysterious, and though I thought it presumptuous of you at first, you proved yourself right, and proved me wrong once again. All I learnt about you was that you found your way here by a different means, of which you gave me enough clues to help me in the future to find this hidden passage in and out of Asgard. You also revealed that you were living your life in hiding, travelling from world to world, in fact, I recall you mentioning Midgard as one of those worlds you had previously stayed on. You spent the whole night in the gardens with me, avoiding the crowds, simply talking… As the festivities began to die down in the early hours of morning you made your excuses and left with the promise of returning one day." He defiantly finished his story there, his eyes desperately searching Artemisia’s face for some sign of emotion. This mystery woman he had meet so long ago simply knew nothing of that night; a simple pleasure though it may have been to merely talk to a stranger… But to him it was a treasured memory of the night he felt truly at home; in her eyes. The eyes of a long lost friend. Those eyes that now had no recollection of the facts, but had remembered the connection. And in those eyes he stared, just then, still feeling as at home in them as he had before. His first friend, his only friend. He had long since thought her dead. Her promise to return faded into a memory; yet in his mind he could not bare to consider her purposely not returning. Thus, he had shaped the memory, devising that her promise was not a promise at all, merely a wishful thought she had expressed. For he could not bare having been abandoned by those soul piercing brown eyes.

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I am going to double check chapter 7 and make a few edits before publishing it tomorrow. Then I'm setting up a dropbox so I can never (nearly) lose it again.