Afternoons in Asgard always carried a lazy, comforting warmth.
The main road leading to the Bifrost Bridge was not a straight path you could see end-to-end, but rather wound its way downwards along the edge of the vast gardens surrounding the Golden Palace.
The road was paved with massive slabs of white marble, each stone polished to a mirror-like smoothness, clearly reflecting the ever-glimmering golden sky above.
The sides of the road were not bare railings but were adorned with orderly rows of unique plants that only grew in the divine realm.
Those trees were incredibly tall, their trunks displaying an ancient silver-grey hue, their surfaces etched with natural, rune-like patterns.
Their lush branches and leaves stretched out in all directions, each leaf seemingly forged from the purest gold.
Under the caress of a gentle breeze, the leaves rubbed and clinked together, producing a pleasant, wind-chime-like rustle.
Sunlight filtered through these golden canopies, casting countless dappled, ever-shifting patterns of light and shadow onto the pristine white marble pavement.
The air was filled with a unique scent—a blend of floral fragrance, earthy richness, and the distant breath of the sea—a scent that belonged uniquely to Asgard.
Amidst this quiet interplay of light and shadow, a small figure was walking along, stepping on the dancing patches of light.
Arthas walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his steps as light and quick as a fawn strolling through a forest.
His finely crafted little leather boots tapped rhythmically against the stone slabs.
He looked especially spirited today.
His well-tailored, deep blue noble attire was embroidered with intricate golden thread patterns at the collar and cuffs, which shimmered faintly in the sunlight with his every movement.
He held his head slightly raised, a few strands of his black hair tousled by the wind, but this did nothing to diminish the beauty of his delicate face.
His amber eyes were half-lidded, seemingly savoring this rare moment of leisure.
He would occasionally pause, tilting his head to listen to the chirping of nameless insects from the roadside grass, or reach out to catch a golden leaf drifting down from above.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile always lingered at the corners of his mouth, proof of his kind and curious nature towards this world.
Not far behind Arthas, two even smaller figures were following in a completely different manner.
The chubby, golden-haired little one was naturally Thor.
He was utterly incapable of walking with his elder brother’s grace.
The little red cape that should have looked dashing hung crookedly from his shoulders.
One moment he was running onto the stone border of a roadside flowerbed, teetering as he pretended to walk a tightrope; the next, he’d jump down, pick up a dry twig from the ground, and let out strange “whoosh-ha-hey” cries, swinging it at the air as if battling some invisible monster.
Even this simple act of walking had him panting heavily, his chubby little face flushed red and beaded with sweat.
Following behind him, Loki appeared much quieter.
The dark-haired little boy walked with his hands in his pockets.
Though his pace wasn’t fast, each step was steady.
His green eyes would occasionally dart a glance at his brother, who was darting about like a monkey, his gaze revealing a disdain that didn’t match his age.
He would sometimes quicken his pace to stay close to Arthas, as if only by his elder brother’s side could he feel at ease.
After rounding a bend adorned with clusters of flowers, the path ahead widened slightly.
By the roadside stood an exceptionally massive, ancient Oak Tree.
Its trunk was so thick it would take several adults to encircle it, its vast canopy spreading like a giant umbrella, casting a large patch of cool shade.
Arthas had been admiring a blooming blue flower by the roadside when a flash of color not belonging to the plants caught the corner of his eye.
Behind the rough tree trunk, a vibrant red had flickered past.
It wasn’t the deep crimson of a Flame Flower, nor the orange-red of a sunset, but the delicate scarlet found only on the fine fabrics favored by Asgardian girls.
Arthas’s steps faltered slightly.
His sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a hem peeking out from behind the trunk and a strand of black hair trembling slightly with nervousness.
He didn’t call out immediately.
Instead, the smile on his lips deepened, taking on a playful edge.
He knew that figure hiding there all too well.
That little girl again.
Arthas chuckled inwardly.
This wasn’t the first time Sif had done this.
Ever since they’d met, whenever she knew Arthas would be passing by or appearing near a certain training ground, this little girl would always find a way to hide somewhere and secretly watch him.
Even though their families were on such good terms, she often visited the Golden Palace with Heimdall, and they all played together frequently.
Yet, she seemed to particularly enjoy this game of hide-and-seek.
Last time in the library, she’d hidden behind a massive bookshelf to secretly watch Arthas read, only to accidentally knock over a stack of books and bury herself in the pile.
In the end, it was Arthas who dug her out.
Thinking of this, Arthas gave a slight shake of his head.
He turned and raised a finger to his lips, making a “shh” gesture to Thor, who was still battling the air, and Loki, who wore an expression of cool indifference.
Arthas softened his footsteps, moving as silently as a cat planning a prank towards the large tree.
Meanwhile, Sif, hiding behind the tree, was in a state of extreme tension.
Her whole body was pressed tightly against the rough bark, as if wishing she could flatten herself and become part of the tree.
Her hands clutched the hem of her beautiful new dress so tightly her knuckles turned white, crumpling the smooth fabric.
Her large, dark eyes were wide open, carefully watching the shadows on the ground.
Did the footsteps just stop?
Was I discovered?
Probably not…
This tree is so big, it can completely hide me.
This dress is new, I wore it specifically to see him…
If he finds out I was peeking, I’ll be laughed to death.
Sif bit her lower lip, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, the sound so loud she wondered if people outside could hear it.
Just as Sif was still engaged in an intense internal debate, wrestling with whether or not to peek out and check the situation, a shadow suddenly fell over her.
There was no sound of footsteps, no warning.
A familiar face, wearing a gentle smile, suddenly peeked around from the other side of the tree trunk.
“Got you.” Arthas’s voice sounded right by her ear, carrying the clear tone of youth and his usual gentleness.
“Wah!” Startled by the sudden voice, Sif shuddered, almost jumping on the spot.
She stumbled back a step, her back thudding solidly against the tree trunk.
She looked up in fright, meeting Arthas’s eyes, which were curved into crescents.
Those eyes reflected her own face, which had instantly turned beet red.
“Ah, I knew it was you.” Arthas straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest, looking leisurely at the little ‘apple’ before him who seemed about to overheat.
“Sif, this tree may be big, but it can’t hide your hem.” Arthas pointed to the bit of red fabric that had been showing earlier, his tone full of teasing.
Sif followed his finger and saw her fatal mistake.
Flustered, she tugged her skirt back, then felt the gesture was too obvious.
Her hands instantly became restless, finally ending up clasped behind her back, fingers fidgeting.
“I…
I wasn’t hiding…” Sif stammered her rebuttal, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz.
She didn’t dare look Arthas in the eye, keeping her head down, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the golden buckle of Arthas’s boot.
“I was just…
just…” She hemmed and hawed, her mind blank, completely unable to fabricate a reasonable excuse for why she was hiding here like a stalker.
Seeing her on the verge of tears from anxiety, Arthas couldn’t bear to tease her further.
He took a step forward, slightly closing the distance between them.
“Alright, I’m not blaming you.” Arthas’s voice softened, taking on a patient, coaxing tone.
“You knew we were going to the Bifrost Bridge, so you were waiting for us here on purpose, right?” He very thoughtfully offered Sif a way out.
Hearing this, Sif jerked her head up to glance at Arthas, then quickly looked down again, giving a slight nod.
“Mm-hmm…
mm-hmm.” She took the opportunity to agree, though the heat in her face didn’t subside at all; if anything, it intensified with Arthas’s proximity.
Looking at her sleek, dark hair shimmering like satin in the sunlight, Arthas felt the familiar urge to ruffle it surface again.
Besides, she was his childhood friend.
What was wrong with patting her head?
So, he very naturally reached out his hand.
That slender hand traced an arc through the air before gently landing on top of Sif’s head.
The sensation under his palm was as pleasant as ever.
Her hair felt cool, yet carried the unique warmth of a young girl.
Arthas gave it a gentle ruffle, smoothing it down along its natural flow a couple of times.
“You look really pretty in this red dress today.” Arthas casually complimented, his tone sincere and natural.
“It suits you.” In that instant, Sif felt like her entire being was about to explode.
The warmth from the top of her head traveled all the way down to the soles of her feet.
That tingling, numbing sensation made her legs go weak, almost unsteady.
He said I look pretty!
He patted my head!
And he said the dress today looks nice!
Getting up an hour early to choose was totally worth it!
Sif felt like fireworks were going off in her head—colorful, dazzling explosions that left her dizzy.
She even forgot to breathe, holding her breath to savor these brief yet seemingly endless few seconds.
However, good times are always fleeting, especially when you have two mischievous little brothers around.
A chaotic and heavy set of footsteps shattered this pink-bubble-filled atmosphere.
“Brother!
What are you doing!” Thor’s booming voice was like a thunderclap, jolting Sif right back down to earth from the clouds.
The little golden-haired chubby boy charged over, waving his dry twig like a little wild boar on a rampage.
He ran up to Arthas, looking at Sif, then at Arthas’s hand on Sif’s head, with an expression of utter bewilderment and even a hint of disdain.
“Why is it her again?” Thor pouted, shouting loudly, completely unaware that he was ruining something.
“We’re on a great adventure expedition!
How can you stop to talk to this…
this little girl who only knows how to play hide-and-seek?” Thor slung the twig over his shoulder, striking what he thought was a dashing pose, though his round belly completely undermined any sense of majesty.
“And she looks so fragile,” Thor said, pointing at Sif, his tone filled with that uniquely boyish, utterly baseless arrogance.
“We’re going to see the Bifrost Bridge!
And Guardian Heimdall!
That’s a place for real men.
Girls would just get in the way!” Thor grew more and more excited, fully immersed in his own “heroic” logic.
“Brother, never mind her, let’s go!
I can’t wait for Uncle Heimdall to teach me how to use that big sword!” At that moment, Loki, who had remained silent, sauntered over.
His hands were still in his pockets, that trademark, slightly mocking smile playing on his lips.
He glanced at Sif, whose face was red and who seemed on the verge of exploding, then at Thor, who was still chattering away.
“Thor, is this the etiquette expected of an Asgardian prince?” Loki’s voice was not loud, carrying a cool tone, “Yelling at a lady and calling her a burden.” Hearing this, Thor immediately turned his head to glare at Loki.
“I’m just speaking the truth!
That’s a warrior’s straightforwardness!” Loki snorted disdainfully.
“That’s rudeness.
It’s precisely because of your muscle-headed logic that you’ll never understand why Brother stopped.” He tilted his head, giving Sif a slight nod as a rather informal greeting, then continued his verbal assault on Thor.
“Can’t you see Miss Sif is wearing a new dress today?
Only a tasteless blind man like you would see that as a ‘nuisance’.” Thor’s words had already angered Sif greatly, completely ruining the romantic atmosphere she had painstakingly built.
But what made her even angrier was that Thor dared to question her status in Arthas’s heart!
What did he mean by ‘burden’?
She had grown up with Arthas since childhood!
Sif abruptly raised her head.
Her face, which had been full of bashful shyness moments ago, was now covered in frost.
Although she didn’t actually make a move, the imposing aura of her Valkyrie lineage was unmistakably real.
Her beautiful big eyes glared fiercely at Thor, her small hands clenched tightly into fists, knuckles cracking with crisp ‘pop’ sounds.
“Thor Odinson!” Sif squeezed the name out between her teeth.
Though her voice still held a trace of childishness, it carried a sharp, murderous intent.
“Who are you calling a burden?
Who are you calling frail?” She took a step forward, her imposing aura actually making Thor, who was a full size larger, shrink back his neck.
“Who was it that I tripped on the training ground last time, who then sat on the ground bawling?
Do I need to refresh your memory?” Hit where it hurt, Thor’s face instantly flushed a deep crimson.
That was the ‘dark history’ of his life.
He never expected this girl to expose it in public, and in front of Brother and Loki no less!
“Th-that was an accident!” Thor stiffened his neck, defending loudly, trying to mask his guilt with volume.
“I lost my footing that time!
And that was ages ago!
I’m much stronger now!” He brandished the branch in his hand, pointing at Sif.
“If you don’t believe me, let’s have a contest!
Right here!
I challenge you to a sacred duel!
I’ll prove that men are stronger than women!” “Bring it on!
Who’s afraid of you!” Sif retorted, not backing down.
She directly lifted the layers of her intricate skirt, revealing her delicate sandals underneath, and assumed a fighting stance.
“Whoever loses has to run three laps around the Golden Palace and shout ‘I’m an idiot’!” As a full-on brawl seemed imminent, Loki not only didn’t try to stop them, but instead whistled leisurely from the sidelines.
“Oh my, how exciting.” He remarked sarcastically, even finding a clean rock to sit on, looking ready to enjoy the show.
“Should I bet on Sif winning, or on that idiot brother of mine?
Although Thor is strong, he’s not bright.
Sif just needs to use her head a little to confuse him.” “Loki!
Shut up!” Thor and Sif surprisingly shouted in unison.
Loki shrugged indifferently, spreading his hands.
“See?
There’s some tacit agreement already.” Arthas, who had been standing aside all along, finally couldn’t take it anymore.
He felt a headache coming on.
A real one.
Was this what they called childhood sweethearts?
Weren’t they supposed to be innocent and sweet?
Why was it always this chaotic, chicken-flying-dog-jumping scene whenever they got together?
Arthas took a deep breath, then decisively stepped forward, placing himself directly between the two little bantam roosters ready for a fight.
He extended both hands, one pressing down on Thor’s head, which was ready to charge, the other gently holding back Sif’s clenched fist.
“Enough!
Both of you, stop!” This time, Arthas didn’t use his gentle, coaxing tone, but added a touch of sternness.
Those amber eyes, usually always smiling, now narrowed slightly, exuding the undeniable authority of the eldest brother.
The air around them seemed to freeze for a moment with his words.
Feeling the pressure from the hand on his head, Thor instantly deflated like a punctured balloon, all his bluster gone.
He had always been the most obedient in front of Arthas.
When Brother got angry, he didn’t dare make trouble.
“Brother…” Thor hunched his neck, looking somewhat aggrieved at Arthas.
Arthas ignored him for now, turning first to look at Sif.
His gaze softened again, and he gently patted the back of her hand.
“Sif, you’re a girl.
You should have a girl’s elegance.” Arthas said softly.
“And you are Heimdall’s sister, destined to be an outstanding female warrior.
Why lower yourself to the level of an immature brat like Thor?” This was masterfully said.
It praised Sif, belittled Thor, and conveniently gave Sif a way to back down gracefully.
Hearing this, Sif’s anger instantly subsided by more than half.
She withdrew her hand, straightened her skirt, snorted, and turned her head away, refusing to look at Thor.
Having placated Sif, Arthas then turned his head, his expression stern as he looked at Thor.
“And you, Thor.” Arthas reached out and flicked his plump forehead, producing a crisp sound.
“Ouch!” Thor cried out, clutching his forehead.
“Whether as a prince or a future warrior, respecting women is the most basic courtesy.” Arthas said seriously.
“Especially since Sif is our friend, a companion we grew up with.
Don’t you owe an apology for saying such things?” Rubbing his forehead, Thor, though still somewhat unconvinced in his heart, truly didn’t dare disobey Arthas.
He shuffled around reluctantly, facing Sif’s profile, and muttered in an extremely unwilling, muffled voice, “S…
sorry.” “Louder.
I didn’t hear you.” Arthas crossed his arms.
“Sorry!” Thor roared, then immediately turned around and stomped off angrily to kick stones in the roadside grass.
Arthas then looked at Loki, who was sitting nearby watching the show.
Seeing the fire hadn’t spread, Loki pursed his lips in boredom and stood up from the rock.
“I didn’t cause any trouble, Brother.” Loki raised his hands, wearing an innocent expression.
“I was actually speaking up for you just now.” Arthas shook his head helplessly.
This younger brother, though he didn’t start trouble, his ability to stir it was absolutely first-rate.
“You should talk less too.” Arthas walked over and casually straightened Loki’s slightly askew collar.
“We’re family.
We’re out to have fun, not to watch the drama.” After this whole ordeal, the group finally regained some peace.
Arthas glanced at the sky.
The sun had begun to set, its golden light growing richer.
“Alright, it’s getting late.
We need to pick up the pace.” Arthas clapped his hands, signaling everyone to continue.
He turned and looked at Sif, who was still standing there a bit huffily.
She hung her head, her toes tracing circles on the ground, clearly still sulking about what happened, or perhaps waiting for Arthas’s attitude.
Arthas smiled and extended his hand once more.
This time, it wasn’t to pat her head, but directly offered to her.
That palm was broad and warm, the lines on it clearly visible.
“Let’s go, Sif.” Arthas said gently.
“Since we’ve run into each other, let’s go together.
I haven’t seen you in a while anyway.
You can tell me what you’ve been up to on the way.” Looking at the hand extended before her, the last bit of awkwardness in Sif’s heart vanished like smoke.
She bit her lip, trying hard to suppress the corners of her mouth that wanted to curl up, but failed.
She raised her hand, somewhat hesitant yet expectant, and placed her small hand into Arthas’s palm.
The moment their hands touched, that familiar warmth enveloped her once again.
Arthas’s fingers gently closed, completely enveloping her small hand.
It was a very reassuring grip, neither loose nor tight, yet it gave the feeling that even if the sky fell, this hand wouldn’t let go.
Sif felt her face heating up again, but this time, it was with happiness.
Hmph, at least you have a conscience.
She snorted proudly in her heart, then obediently followed Arthas’s steps.
The group set off again.
This time, the formation became Arthas leading Sif by the hand at the front, with Thor and Loki following behind.
“I heard you’ve been learning the Observation Technique from Uncle Heimdall recently?” Arthas asked Sif as they walked, turning his head slightly.
Sif nodded, her black hair swaying with the motion.
“Mhm.” Her voice regained its liveliness.
“Brother says my eyesight is very good, that I have a talent for it.
He’s even teaching me how to distinguish the auras of different races from the Nine Realms.” “That’s really impressive.” Arthas praised.
“So, can you tell what kind of bird is perched on that tree ahead?” Sif squinted her eyes to look.
“That’s a Gold-Feathered Sparrow, and it’s building a nest.
It has a blue feather in its beak.” Sif said with full confidence.
Arthas raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Wow, I didn’t even see that feather.
It seems our little Sif really can take over for Uncle Heimdall in the future.” Praised by Arthas like this, Sif smiled until her eyes curved into crescent moons, her earlier unhappiness long forgotten.
Thor, following behind, watched the two chatting animatedly ahead, a blade of grass in his mouth, his face full of displeasure.
“Tch, what’s so great about that.” Thor grumbled.
“What’s the use of looking at birds?
Can it fight in battle?
Can it lift a hammer?” Loki chimed in coolly beside him, “At least she doesn’t get found first every time we play hide-and-seek, unlike you.” Thor choked, rolling his eyes.
“That’s because I wanted to be found!
I disdain hiding!
That’s cowardly behavior!” “Yes, yes, you’re the bravest.” Loki nodded perfunctorily.
“So brave you were chased by a bee for half the garden last time.” “That was a tactical retreat!
Loki, if you bring that up again, I’ll hit you!” As they walked on, the surrounding scenery began to change.
The trees gradually thinned out, and the view opened up.
In the distance, the magnificent Bifrost Bridge finally came into view.
It was like a river condensed from pure light, spanning the vast starry sky and the land of the gods.
Red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple — seven colors flowed and intertwined across the bridge surface, emitting a dazzling radiance.
Even after seeing it countless times, every time the children beheld this bridge, they couldn’t help but hold their breath.
It wasn’t just a bridge; it was a symbol of Asgard’s power and glory, a gateway to endless unknowns.
“Look!
The Bifrost Bridge is here!” Thor shouted excitedly, pointing ahead.
“Come on!
Let’s go see it quickly!” Thor, with his impatient nature, couldn’t wait any longer and took off running.
“Wait for me!” Although Loki always complained with his mouth, faced with such excitement, he also quickened his pace to catch up.
Arthas felt the small hand he was holding tighten slightly.
Clearly, Sif was also eager.
He turned his head and smiled at Sif.
“Shall we run too?” “Mhm!” Sif nodded emphatically.