Shadow Of Perfection: Part 1 This is a tale of jealousy and mortal ire, scripted by a divine yet convoluted mind, corrupted by the mere ignorance of that mind's "kin" and "family." My name is Loki Laufeyson, and this is the tale of my deplorable existence. We sat in the massive dome, safe from the agitated winds outside, howling and moaning like wolves in the night. I sat confined to the corner, while my slightly older brother was comfortably seated on my father's lap, collecting his love like a thief. If I can remember correctly, if my mind has not been soiled and decayed by all the pain slowly gnawing at me over the long and dreary years, we were around the age of seven, possibly six, and both had entirely contrary reputations. I was the despised trouble-maker. Of coarse, my mistakes were constantly tossed back at me. Pushed deeper into my soul until they became a part of my personality. My brother, on the other hand, made just as many mistakes as I, but his mistakes were whisked away like leaves in the wind by my father. His mistakes became regrets, which evolved into a rule set of what not to do, creating the ideal son for any sane man. My mistakes were always wrong, I was fueled by the discipline that was thrust upon me. I wanted to break rules. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how deep I dug, no shred of obedience was salvageable. I was a rule breaker. As I sat in the corner, the coldest corner, as I observed my brother and father chuckling and conversing. "Father! Tell me the story of the King! The King who saved the boy!" my brother exclaimed. I wrinkled my nose in disgust. That story had been recited countless times. It told of a king, caressed in gold and riches, who finds young boy stranded the the dessert, and saves him. Just as predicted, they live happily ever after. Of coarse. I had never enjoyed those stories like my brother had. I had always known that they were the stories that filled the minds of fools. They were stories for gullible children, stories for children that hoped, that hoped and dreamed and wished. Now, I must say I know what you are thinking, that I should not be telling of such tales in envy, contemplating the dessert boy's convenient existence, with the kind of #life I live now. My father was a king caressed in gold and riches. He was a king and we were princes. He was a god, as were we.