Chapter Text
The archives of Asgard were a labyrinth of towering shelves, parchment scrolls, and dust motes dancing in the faint beams of sunlight that filtered through high windows. At its heart stood Lady Hilde, the keeper of Asgard’s knowledge, as formidable as the collection she presided over.
She glanced up as Loki entered, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly in recognition before she gave a slight bow. “Prince Loki. To what do I owe this honor?”
“Lady Hilde,” Loki said, offering a polite nod. “I’ve come seeking the records on the outer districts. Lord Fyrirtal assured me they would be under your care.”
Hilde’s expression softened slightly with approval. “A noble pursuit. Few take such an interest in those matters these days. Come, follow me.”
With a swish of her long robes, Hilde led Loki deeper into the archives, weaving through narrow aisles and past ancient volumes bound in cracked leather. They arrived at a section marked with ornate runes denoting governmental reports, and Hilde gestured for Loki to wait as she scanned the shelves.
“These would be the most recent ones,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over labels. “Trade manifests, census reports, council minutes… ah, here we are—”
She paused abruptly, her brow furrowing as her fingers traced an empty gap in the meticulously arranged scrolls.
“They’re gone,” she said, her voice edged with disbelief.
Loki stepped forward, his sharp gaze falling on the empty space. “Gone? That hardly seems typical of your archives, Lady Hilde.”
“It’s not,” Hilde said tersely, already moving to another section. She searched with swift efficiency, her movements growing more agitated as she uncovered yet another empty slot where the reports should have been. “This is highly irregular. Records are never misplaced under my watch.”
“Never?” Loki repeated, his tone laced with curiosity.
“Never,” Hilde snapped, turning to face him. “Everything in these archives is cataloged, cross-referenced, and accounted for. Whoever removed these documents did so deliberately—and without my knowledge.”
Loki’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. “How intriguing. Would anyone have a reason to conceal information about the outer districts?”
Hilde’s frown deepened as she considered the question. “It’s difficult to say. The archives are accessible only to a select few—those with direct involvement in governance or my express permission. I can review the log of visitors, but if someone wanted to cover their tracks…”
“Then the log will tell us nothing,” Loki finished, his mind already racing. “Still, it’s a place to start. And the absence of these records speaks volumes.”
Hilde regarded him shrewdly. “You suspect foul play.”
“Do I not always?” Loki replied lightly, though his eyes gleamed with a darker intent.
Hilde sighed, her shoulders stiffening as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I will investigate this matter thoroughly, Prince Loki. Rest assured, the archives will not remain compromised.”
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Loki said, his voice smooth. “But I suspect I shall need to look elsewhere for answers in the meantime.”
As he turned to leave, Hilde called after him, her tone clipped but genuine. “I- My prince, be careful. If someone has gone to such lengths to conceal these records, they may not take kindly to you uncovering them.”
Loki paused, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Caution is always appreciated, Lady Hilde. But where would the fun be in that?”
And with that, he swept from the archives, his thoughts churning with possibilities. The missing records were no mere coincidence—of that he was certain. Whoever had taken them had something to hide, and Loki was determined to uncover it.
The tutoring wing of the palace was a world apart from the grand halls and bustling courtyards of Asgard. Here, the walls seemed to hum with quiet diligence, the air filled with the faint scent of parchment and ink. Loki walked briskly through the familiar halls, the weight of his thoughts only slightly offset by the measured calm of the space.
He reached the oak door of Master Brynnar’s study and rapped twice before entering. He did not wait for an invitation—he was a prince, after all—but his entrance was far from overbearing.
Brynnar looked up from his desk, his pen poised over a piece of parchment. A hint of surprise flickered across his features, quickly replaced by a polite smile. He rose and offered a slight bow.
“Prince Loki,” Brynnar said, his voice calm and even. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Loki inclined his head in acknowledgment, stepping into the room and letting the door click shut behind him. “Master Brynnar,” he began, his tone measured but direct, “I require your assistance in a matter of some importance. I am taking on an apprentice.”
Brynnar’s brow arched ever so slightly, though his expression remained composed. “An apprentice? A significant decision, my prince. May I inquire as to the nature of this pupil?”
“She is from the outer districts,” Loki replied, moving to stand by one of the tall bookshelves, idly running his fingers along the spines of the neatly arranged volumes. “Her name is Elira. She has a rare aptitude for seidr—raw, but promising. She will be brought here in a few days’ time, and I need to ensure that the proper arrangements are made.”
Brynnar returned to his seat, folding his hands on the desk before him. “Of course. Shall we begin with her living arrangements?”
Loki turned slightly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I assumed that would be your first suggestion.”
Brynnar allowed himself a small chuckle. “It is the foundation upon which everything else rests, my prince. As your apprentice, her status will require private accommodations—nothing shared, of course. Something modest yet fitting for a pupil under your tutelage.”
Loki nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Agreed. See that it is done. Chambers in the quieter wing, perhaps. And she will need appropriate attire as well—simple, practical, but presentable. Though she comes from a family of tailors, she has not the means to afford such elaborate garments alone.”
Brynnar made a note on a piece of parchment. “I will see to it that her chambers and attire are prepared before her arrival.”
“Good,” Loki said, moving to the center of the room and folding his arms. “Now, on to her education. I dare not presume the state of her current education given her status in outer districts, so I assume some assessment or examination will be required for appropriate placement”
Brynnar nodded, “Naturally.”
“As for the subjects in which she should be taught…” Loki hummed in contemplation, “Weapons training, for one—self-defense is non-negotiable. She should receive adequate background in other subjects a child of her age should know — history, science, mathematics — the like. And of course, the point of all this, seidr lessons with myself.”
“Of course, though…” Brynnar hesitated.
Loki glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow in expectation, “Yes?”
“Well, I don’t mean to presume, but I’m concerned that her… background will mean she may not know the proper etiquette and courtly behavior fitting of her new station. This will require focused attention. It would not do for her to appear… unpolished, especially as your apprentice.”
Loki’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “An unpracticed apprentice can look poorly on the household, no matter the original circumstances.”
“Precisely, my prince,” Brynnar said, his tone even.
“Very well,” Loki concluded. “Etiquette, weapons, academics—history, mathematics, the sciences. She has a sharp mind; it would be a waste not to hone it further.”
Brynnar tilted his head. “Should she be ready, I would place her in classes with peers of her age. Though, that is assuming she has the appropriate background to keep up — I’m not barring the chance that she is behind. In this case, I would recommend private tutors.”
“Private tutors,” Loki echoed, nodding slowly. “Yes, that makes sense. Though, I suppose we will have to see pending her assessment.” He paused, then turned to Brynnar. “When creating her schedule, however, do note that a portion of her time will be spent in personal lessons with me, studying seidr. That will be her primary focus. But you’ve handled countless pupils, Brynnar. If you have any further suggestions, now is the time to share them.”
Brynnar considered this for a moment, his fingers steepled. “Her transition to palace life will likely be her greatest challenge,” he said carefully. “Academics and training can be taught, but adapting to the culture of the court is another matter entirely. I’ve not witnessed any similar situations in the past, however if there are any issues I will address them swiftly and to the best of my ability.”
Loki nodded, satisfied with the answer. “See to it that everything is ready by the time she arrives — that is, a week from now. I want no delays, no oversights. Chambers, tutors, uniforms—whatever is necessary. I trust you to handle it.”
Brynnar inclined his head. “It will be done, my prince.”
Loki turned to leave but paused at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, his expression unusually solemn.
“Oh, and Brynnar,” he said, his voice softer but no less firm. “She may be from the outer districts, but that is irrelevant. Treat her as you would any other pupil under your care. Her success—or failure—will reflect on me, and I do not intend for her to fail.”
With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Brynnar to ponder the unexpected task. As the door closed, the old tutor leaned back in his chair, his mind already turning over the details of what lay ahead.