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Chapter Text

“Prince Loki, ‘tis time to rise.”

A bright light shone into the bedroom as a servant drew back the brocaded drapes. A shape rustled underneath a heavy duvet and many fine furs, as the second prince of Asgard began his day.

“Good morning, Sigrid,” Loki groaned. Ordinarily, he hated awaking early, but today was no ordinary day. The thought of what was to come alone inspired him to rise and greet the day. He rolled out of bed, beginning his daily routine.

Loki’s bedroom was the picture of opulence, as befitting a royal of his status. Emerald green curtains framed the windows overlooking Asgard, with golden highlights accenting every surface. The four poster bed was draped with countless furs and blankets and every dresser or wardrobe was carved of the finest dark wood.

Sigrid began laying out his clothes as Loki performed his morning ablutions. The outfit Sigrid chose was simple but powerful — a deep green tunic with golden embroidery around the edges, a long leather vest with golden armor plates fused in the edges, leather vambraces, and black trousers. While twas not the most grandiose outfit he possessed, twas certainly representative enough of his position.

Sigrid knew him and his preferences well. She had officially became his personal handservant a few centuries ago, and he was delighted with her work. Unlike others, Sigrid seemed to have a genuine care for Loki — Prince of Asgard or not. While Loki already had a mother, he appreciated the care to which Sigrid learned his preferences and quirks.

Finishing donning his clothes, Loki made his way over to his dining chamber. A servant from the kitchens was already laying out his breakfast, as Sigrid made her way over to the edge of the dining chamber.

“Will you be wanting tea this morning, my prince?” Sigrid questioned.

“Aye, Sigrid. Though I would like a stronger blend then normal, perhaps the Alfheimr Green leaves?”

“Of course, Loki,” Sigrid said with a knowing look.

Aye, she knew the significance of the day. Today was Loki’s first official day on Asgard’s High Council, and he would make sure he was prepared.

In order to maintain an informed position as a prince of the realm, Loki had maintained an observer position on the Asgard’s High Council — the group of King Odin’s most esteemed advisors and trusted nobles. Though, as he had just passed his coming-of-age, Loki would now be able to join his brother as a real decision-making member.

And oh, what a feat that would be. Loki was going to be so glad when he could finally challenge some of Thor’s preposterous decisions. Why Odin felt his brother, the oaf, was right for the throne, he would never know. Being a wise king required such intricate politicking that Loki dearly questioned whether his brother was at all prepared for the task, as Loki was fairly certain that “subtly” wasn’t a word in Thor’s vocabulary.

Alas, Loki ate the remainder of his breakfast in thought and alone. While he had consistently broke his fast with either his mother or the rest of his family, as he grew that tradition became more occasion than norm. In fact, he rarely found time to be with his family at all, his duties steadily increasing with his age.

Now, however, he would finally take on the role he most desired — a chance to be heard by his father. If his new position on the High Council didn’t allow him his wish, well, then Loki would accomplish it somehow.

Finishing his meal, Loki gestured to Sigrid to the clear the table. He stood, and it suddenly dawned on him how awkward eating alone was. Loki had been steadily growing apart from his family, finding solace in his seidr studies or other administrative work. He longed for some kind of company, some kind of real connection.

Not a romantic one, he thought, at least not for now. Loki had had a long-lasting relationship with Sigyn, and he didn’t intend to break it while she was away. A fellow Seidr user, Sigyn had left Asgard last year for a decade of studies abroad in Vanaheimr.

Loki had been missing her dearly, but twas only a decade. She would hopefully she her again soon.

Regardless, sometimes he felt Sigyn was the only person who really knew him. Well, other than his mother of course, who was probably the being that knew him best in the world. Unlike Thor, who had Lady Sif the Warriors Three — or Idiots three as Loki liked to call them — Loki seemed to have trouble finding real companions.

Whether twas his mischievous nature or seidr-use, both of which garnered serious scorn from the rest of Asgard, Loki was not well-liked amongst the nobility. And, as Prince of Asgard, he could not be seen regularly consorting with those outside of the nobility. Though, he considered, it would most likely provoke a minor scandal, and Loki was nothing if not one for chaos.

Nay, he thought. Today is my first day to truly be on the council, I shan’t entertain such thoughts if I am to make a positive reputation.

Shoving away any notion of chaos or mischief he may want to cause, Loki exited his chambers and made his way to administrative wing of Valaskjalf.

“We may begin,” Odin proclaimed across the large open chamber.

The High Council meeting chambers, while no new sight to Loki, stood high in glory. The large rooms was lined with beautiful tapestries, all depicting sights from Asgard’s endless slew of battles and victories. The floors and walls were marbled and golden respectively, with a sweeping balcony overlooking all of Asgard.

The magnum opus of the room, however, was the carved lacquered table dominating the center of the room. About the table sat the most powerful men in all the realm: Asgard’s High Council.

At the head of the table sat Odin, Allfather, King of the Nine Realms, and Loki’s father. At the other end of the table sat the Kings advisors: Lord Fyrirtal, Lord Kostramaer, Lord Ivar, and General Tyr. Across from each other sat Odin’s brothers — Loki’s uncles — Vili and Ve. To Odin’s right sat Thor, and to Odin’s left…

An empty seat. Not only would Loki be a fully attending member of the council, he would have the coveted position next to Odin himself. While, yes, technically Odin’s right hand seat was the most coveted, Loki knew that the Golden Boy was going to receive no matter the hoops he had to leap through.

The meeting ran much as he expected, albeit this time he chimed in quite often. Things had been running quite smoothly. Had been. The current issue was quite contentious, even by Asgardian standards. A proposal had been raised — one that would reallocate funding traditionally meant for education in the outer districts to bolster military defense.

“The funding should go where twas originally allocated, the schools of the outer district,” claimed Lord Fyrirtal. The lord had been a staunch advocate for public funding for as long as Loki had been observing council meetings. While Loki agreed, twas clear the sentiment was not shared by all members.

“No one here wishes to see the children of Asgard suffer, Lord Fyrirtal. But the threats to our borders are real. The very same outer districts have reported an alarming increase in banditry and incursions. Without an increase in military resources, we risk far worse than an underfunded school.”

Thor, ever eager to side with the military, pounded his fist on the table. “Precisely, General! What good are schools if they cannot be protected? We must ensure the safety of Asgard’s citizens first.”

“And yet,” Loki cut in, his voice calm but pointed, “failing to invest in education ensures the perpetuation of instability. Poverty and ignorance breed unrest, brother. Increase the military budget all you like, but it’s a bandage on a festering wound.”

Much to Loki’s surprise, General Tyr nodded to him in acknowledgement. “There is truth in that, Prince Loki. However, we are dealing with immediate threats. A balance must be struck.”

“The issue with that is that there is no balance currently,” claimed Loki. “So much of Asgard’s budget goes towards warrior applications, we barely utilize enough to keep basic services running. Are you quite certain the warrior’s current resources not sufficient enough? Tell me, General, Thor, if Asgard’s military is as highly touted as it is, surely we would be able to address such a threat with our current resources?”

“Precisely, they are high touted so we should give them the respect they deserve!” Thor bellowed. “Those resources are going to honorable warriors! Those are worthy causes and are the most deserving of the funds!”

“Oh, and schools do not ‘deserve’ the funds, Thor?” Loki chimed in. “What is it, Thor? Wolf got your tongue? Say it, right now. Look me in the eyes and tell me that schools don’t deserve the funding.”

“They get enough of it! You know precisely what I mean, do not twist my words, brother,” Thor said. “No amount of books will stop an axe.”

“Perhaps not, Thor,” said Loki. “But an educated populace is less likely to pick up the axe in the first place. Or is that too complex a concept for you? I wouldn’t want to strain your intellect.”

Thor slammed his fist on the table. “Watch your tongue, Loki!”

“Enough!” Odin’s voice cut through the room like a dwarf-forged blade. Every person in the room fell silent. Odin turned to his son, “Loki, your disrespect will not be tolerated. The military budget is approved. You will cease your incessant interruptions.”

Loki blinked, stunned. “Interruptions? I am here as a fully-realized member of the council! I apologize if merely presenting a reasoned argument is considered ‘incessant’, unlike Thor who just pounded the table like a drunken oaf.”

“That’s enough!” Odin roared. “You embarrass yourself and this council, my decision is final. General Tyr, draft the necessary parchment work.”

“Of course, Your Majesty” Tyr replied.

“That is enough for today, this meeting is adjourned,” Odin concluded. “Loki, see me in my office.”

Damn, loki thought. As the other members rose and filed out of the chamber, General Tyr gave a sympathetic glance to Loki — though Loki wasn’t quite certain as to why. Tyr had been his and Thor’s tutor and weaponsmaster since they were boys. Tyr had always been a stern teacher, and always steadfast in his opinions. Why was he showing sympathy to Loki, as he so often took any but his side?

“Loki, now!” Odin said.

Loki emerged from his thoughts, seemingly lost in them for a moment. This was going to be interesting.

Chapter Text

“You’re granted a seat on the highest council on the land — an honor beyond measure, and one you insisted you deserved! — and the first thing you do is insult your brother, the crown prince !” Odin bellowed, his voice echoing throughout his study. 

The walk back to Odin’s study was a long and awkward one. As they were both heading towards the same place, Loki and his father walked together. Ambling meekly behind him, Loki mirrored Odin’s pace the entire walk. The journey was slow, deliberate, and utterly miserable. Each and every of his father’s steps struck the floor with an air of finality. 

The silence between was more than just awkward; it was oppressive, laden with Loki’s worry and Odin’s displeasure. The Allfather was unwilling to discuss what had just occurred in the open public; after all, the last thing the king wanted was to cause a spectacle. Though, due to his fiery temper, Odin also was not willing to engage in any other conversation.

Loki had wished the ground would split open and swallow him whole. He wanted anything but this meeting to occur.  Hel, he would rather be on the training fields! At least there he could entertain himself by watching Thor and his merry band of buffoons practice their theatrics. Anything but this: a private audience with his father, who was surely rehearsing a litany of scathing remarks in his head.

How come Odin had reacted to strongly? It wasn’t even that harsh of a remark! If anything, Thor’s poking and prodding had been more an insult than Loki’s words. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel as if it was partly his fault. How could he have been so careless? Loki knew he was on thin ice, being so mistrusted by the general population of Asgard. He should have been less careless. 

He just had to insult his brother, didn’t he? He was loathe to admit it, but Thor had always been his weak point. Stupid oaf. It’s not even as if it was that egregious as an insult. Loki had seen his fair share of council meetings, and far worse things had been said in the past. Odin just had to single him out. 

While perhaps Odin may not have voiced it explicitly, it was no secret Loki’s father sided more with his eldest. It seemed every soul on Asgard favored Thor more. Widely admired amongst the warriors and touted for his battle prowess, who wouldn’t admire Thor? There was no question Loki loved his brother, but Thor could be quite insufferable at times, as Loki would be the first to admit. Though, despite his occasional (okay, moreso constant) dislike of Thor, Loki never voiced his complaints, as he knew they would fall on deaf ears. Of course, that seemed to be why he was where he was now. Were his seidr more respected or if Odin was capable of siding with not Thor on any occasion , Loki would not be hauled in front of his father and made to withstand the seemingly endless lecture he was currently receiving. 

When they reached Odin’s study, the Allfather hadn’t sat down. He stood before his desk, posturing his displeasure. 

“You compromised your credibility! I know you are competent enough, Loki. I know you are aware of the consequences of insulting the crown prince! I understand you and your brother have your differences, but can you put them aside for once and show some maturity!” 

“Some maturity?” questioned Loki. “ Some maturity? Do you know what I think is mature, father? Well, I think standing by silently while my lump of a brother propagates negative policies would be quite immature of me. So, as befitting of my role and seat on the council, I responded in turn and voiced my opinion.”

“You think yourself clever, but you’ve only proven your immaturity,” Odin snapped. “This council is more than a forum for debate. It is a symbol of our leadership, of Asgard’s strength. And your behavior today was anything but strong. We need to project an image of unity!”

Ah, yes. Thor’s behavior, brash and oafish as it often was, would never be scrutinized like this. Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes, swallowing his retort with effort. He wasn’t stupid. He knew when he was beaten — or at least when further argument would only dig him deeper. So much for his voice being heard on the council. Why, oh why, did his father have to discount every. Single. Thing. He said!

“Projecting an image of unity, hmm,” stated Loki. “If only such a conversation or discourse were held in a private room with only the most trusted and loyal people in all of Asgard to whom pretenses and projections should not matter, oh wait-”

“I sweat to the Norns, Loki! Perhaps I was wrong, perhaps you were not ready to gain your position on the High Council.”

Loki’s stomach lurched. Odin was coming after his seat? The one he just obtained? That would be ridiculous, preposterous! No member in the history of Asgard had ever had their seat revoked, and on his first day at that! Surely his comment wasn’t that offensive. 

“Father, please, listen. I meant no offense, twas a slip of the tongue. I query you, please reconsider. I shall curb my tongue in further meetings!” pleaded Loki. Though, what was the point? If he wasn’t going to be heard on the council, why be on it to begin with? Why wouldn’t his father listen!

“No, Loki. I am tired, I grow weary of your tongue. You are suspended from the High Council for the foreseeable future until I deem you worthy of regaining your place. Now leave, I’m certain you will with to think over what we have just discussed.”

Loki was angry. No, not angry. Infuriated. And it showed.

Thor may be known for his penchant for Thunder, however Loki was a veritable storm when he arrived again at his chambers. 

Damn Odin. Damn Thor. Damn anyone who dare try to silence him!

It had been such a minor error too! Such a minor insult, something Thor — or any other council member, for that matter — would easily get away with. If anything, it should be Thor facing Odin’s wrath, not Loki!

Loki couldn’t even stand being in the same building as his father and brother, he needed some fresh air and a change of scenery. Loki made his way back to his chambers, planning to prepare for a ride. 

“Sigrid!” He called, as he entered his sitting room. 

“Yes, Loki?” Sigrid replied. The two had long since forgone the use of proper titles. Loki had insisted that she use his name in private, and she had taken to it. 

“Prepare some riding clothes for me — the less conspicuous the better. Oh, and fetch a dark cloak of some sorts. I’m going on a ride.”

“Of course, my prince.” And with that Sigrid scurried away, fetching the items he required. In the meantime, Loki took a short moment to gaze out above the city of Asgard. Loki had always admired the golden city. After all, twas his home, how could he not? Though, he supposed, Asgard could do with less ostentatious coloring, or at least a dampening of it. Gold is an accent color, not a base — which was something Asgard’s architects evidently failed to understand. 

“My prince, your clothing,” Sigrid called, gesturing to the garments she had laid out upon the bed. 

Loki approached, examining the pieces carefully. As a prince, most of his clothing was draped in finery and opulence, though these seemed the dullest he could manage. He donned a simple navy blue linen tunic with basic trousers and riding boots. He put on the cloak Sigrid had found him — twas a dark piece with a large hood, which would be useful for concealing his identity. Loki’s intention was to let off steam and escape for the day, being swarmed or recognized would not aid in his plight. 

Although , Loki supposed, he could simply mask his identity as one of a commoner, ensuring no trouble as he left the palace. Loki considered this for a moment. 

Aye.  

Loki had exited the stables, riding his beloved horse, Arion. Arion was a black-as-midnight stallion — a beast with a wild temper for anyone who wasn’t his favored rider. Of course, Loki had long since bonded with Arion, choosing him for most outings. The two had been paired for quite some time.

Twas because of this bond that Loki had initially been concerned about riding Arion. If people recognized his horse, he would be in for quite the day. Well, quite the additional day, he supposed, as the events so far had already left him seething. He waved off the worry, though. He doubted it would cause an uproar, as his steed couldn’t have been the only black stallion on Asgard. 

Plus, with his disguise he should hopefully have now trouble. Speaking of disguise, as he was leaving the stables, Loki quietly and discreetly muttered a illusory spell about his form, alter his face and hair to that of a random person, not the second prince of Asgard.

With that, Loki began his ride. To where, Loki knew not. He had no particular destination in mind for this outing, so he picked a destination and rode. 

Loki took the time to admire Asgard, her golden statues and towering architecture creating quite the image. Towering arches and decorated pillars seemed to fill every corner of the city, displaying her opulence for all to see. Loki, however, chose rather to ride outwards than around the center. 

Loki was aware that the outskirts of Asgard city were not as wealthy as the palace and its surrounding area. He rarely ventured to the edges beyond the main road leading to the bifrost — though that road was hardly representative of the outskirts, given how well travelled it was by the royal family and nobility.

Since General Tyr and his imbecile of a brother seemed determined to draw funding away from areas like the outskirts, Loki felt he may venture to those areas to view them. Not to investigate or anything of the like, but rather just to observe. He knew that the areas needed more funding, however he also knew this was Asgard, it must not be in that much disrepair. 

And oh, how wrong he was. He rode in slowly, as the road he was on was in a such a state of disrepair that he had to slow his horse to a walk. Cobblestones were misplaced and it was all just genuinely dirtier. The buildings were far less opulent, with the golden statutes and fountains of the city center nowhere to be found. 

The village of Aegir’s Cradle was far beyond the glittering spires of Valaskjalf, consisting of a mass of tangling, narrow, and winding streets that rarely saw the light of day. The buildings, though perhaps once noble, visually bore the weight of time and neglect. Their gilded roofs were tarnished, their once-marble walls now cracked and streaked with moss, and the intricate carvings that adorned them eroded into barely recognizable patterns. The air was heavy with the brine of the nearby rivers, carrying the faint, metallic tang of forges and shops that never seem to rest.

Loki rode further into the neighborhood of Aegir’s Cradle, finding himself in a shaded market area. The stalls, cobbled together from what appeared to be scraps of wood and leather, leant precariously against walls, their wares a far cry from the treasures of Asgard’s grand bazaars. Loki wagered the merchants sold all secondhand weapons, scraps of leather, and poorly brewed mead—items too worn or imperfect to find a place in the gleaming marketplaces of the upper city.

The people, too, reflected their surroundings, Loki noted. Their garments were simple and often patched, a mosaic of fabrics pieced together for function rather than form. The faces of the people were lined not with age, but with worry, the marks of lives spent in toil beneath the shadow of their godly rulers. He saw children darting through the alleys barefoot, their laughter a stark contrast to the grim atmosphere.

How could this be? Loki had lived his entire life in Asgard and he had never once noticed how unfortunate the outer areas had been! He had remembered venturing almost everywhere as a child, perhaps in his youthful naivete he just hadn’t noticed? Surely not! 

He dismounted and tied his horse in a nearby area to the market. Still disguised with his illusory magic, Loki went to explore the area. It seemed the district’s heart was this crumbling square, centered around a dried-up fountain. There, in the middle, stood what appeared to be a once-proud statue of a long-forgotten hero — or at least that is what Loki assumed, as its features were almost smooth after all the years of weather and no upkeep. 

Loki made his way over to some market stalls lining the square. Perhaps he would purchase something, support the businesses. He reached into his pocket to search for his coin purse, but— twas not there? Nay, Loki had made sure to bring it! He turned around in confusion, seeing out of the corner of his eye a cloaked figure running away down an alley. 

Well, this should be fun. No one messes with the God of Mischief.

Chapter Text

That little thief was going to pay for that.

Loki flowed through the bustling market, the cacophony of haggling vendors and clattering carts fading into the background as his eyes locked onto the retreating figure. The thief’s tattered cloak billowed behind them as they slipped through the crowd with an ease that suggested practice. However, the thief was being pursued by the God of Mischief himself, a title requiring much skill at creeping around.

Nay, Loki would not brazenly chase this thief, he was more careful than his oaf of a brother would be in such a situation.Loki understood the art of subtlety. He didn’t bellow or barrel his way through like an enraged boar. No, this required finesse. Even in his irritation, he kept his movements calculated, his pace just quick enough to keep the thief in sight without drawing undue attention.

The figure veered into a narrow alley, their feet splashing through shallow puddles that reflected the crumbling stone walls. Loki turned into the alleyway he saw the thief enter moments before, damp and musty stone bricks lining the narrow space. The air reeked of mildew and refuse, a scent that Loki didn’t enjoy and, he was certain, others didn’t either.

Hadn’t he just witnessed children playing in such an alley? How could the Realm Eternal house such horrible conditions? He knew that every city had its ugly problems, but this? Letting little ones play in unhygienic infested corridors? Argh, never the matter, he had a different issue at hand.

When Loki reached the end of the alley, it forked into two directions. The thief was nowhere to be seen, but he would never let that deter him. After all, how could Asgard’s best seidrmadr not have a few tricks up his sleeve? He uttered an incantation under his breath, his hands weaving intricate gestures. He felt a small portion of his seidr flare briefly, then subsiding to reveal an illuminated faint trail of footprints glowing in an otherworldly green.

The tracks led left, toward a street that seemed even narrower and darker than the alley he’d just traversed. Loki sighed, rolling his eyes. “Of course,” he muttered. “Why would it ever be the clean, straightforward path?”

He begrudgingly followed the glowing trail, his fine boots splashing through more puddles. The street widened slightly as it opened into a courtyard filled with laundry lines strung between crumbling buildings. Ratty tunics and patched trousers swayed on the lines as birds scattered, startled by Loki’s arrival. He slowed, his eyes scanning for movement.

The illusory footprints appeared to trail off towards the edge of a building, though he wasn’t exactly certain where they were leading. Perhaps if he —

A noise came from the rooftops above. The faint scrape of a foot on stone, just above him. Loki looked up in time to see the thief leaping from one rooftop to the next, their silhouette briefly outlined against the cloudy sky.

“Bold,” Loki murmured, his lips quirking into a smirk. He whispered an incantation, feeling his seidr pulse as he disappeared in a cloud of mist. He reappeared lightly on the rooftop, his boots skidding slightly on the uneven tiles. Ahead, the thief was sprinting, nimble as a cat.

“Stop!” Loki cried, in an attempt to slow his quarry. His attempt, however made in vain, actually resulted in something, as he caught a glimpse of his accoster when they every-so-briefly turned their head. 

Under the hood of the tattered cloak Loki saw — nay! how could it be? From what Loki could discern, his target appeared to be a young woman — not yet past her majority, Loki would wager. She seemed startled to see him so close but quickly refocused, vaulting over a gap between buildings that Loki wouldn’t have thought possible for a person of her age and stature.

Well, there goes my try for subtly. If the they didn’t know he was trailing them before, whoever he was chasing certainly knew now. Their pair lept from perch to precarious perch, dancing over the ramshackle rooftop 

Despite his grace, Loki landed clumsily, his boots slipping on loose shingles. He cursed under his breath. This district’s rooftops were a hazard—rotting wood, sagging beams, and tiles that crumbled underfoot. While citytop chases certainly weren’t the main argument for improving infrastructure, there was no question the disrepair impeded his pursuit. Something would have to be done about this part of the city.

Just as he began to close the distance, the thief ducked through a shattered window, vanishing into the shadows of an abandoned building. Loki followed without hesitation, finding himself in a dim, musty attic filled with cobwebs and broken furniture.

Seeing no sign of his thief, he noted the spiral staircase leading down the corner of the attic. He also noticed, however, a small table in the center of the room. The table itself was uninteresting, however what drew his eye was a coinpurse sitting atop the table. His coinpurse. 

So, the thief thought they could escape justice by returning the goods. 

Perhaps if Loki were any other person, he may abandon his attempts to chase. But Loki wasn’t any other person, he was the Second Prince of Asgard and the God of Mischief & Chaos. 

He was conflicted, however. Part of him — the princely part — wanted to find and apprehend the thief. They should be brought to justice for this slight against him. However, the God of Chaos inside of him admired the thief’s effort. Were he not already reaching for his coinpurse in the market, he would never have noticed its absence. Loki admired the skill of such a person. Such a young girl, he supposed. 

Nay, he would find this accoster. Whether he apprehended them or not would be of later concern. 

The girl’s footsteps echoed below. Loki recast the tracing spell, and the faint trail of glowing footprints reappeared. He found a pair of footprints descending the winding staircase. 

“Just as I thought,” he muttered, inching down the creaky staircase. 

Loki found himself in a maze of hallways. The walls were lined with peeling wallpaper and graffiti, some of it depicting crude images of the Aesir; one particular drawing caught his eye—a caricature of Thor with exaggerated muscles and a tiny head. Loki almost laughed, palace life was truly so dull. He would never see something so… creative amongst the beautiful and pristine halls of Valaskjalf. Loki admired self-expression, which was probably why he was so renown for his mischief. 

In a culture so uniform in its battles and honor and glory, the mischief was a way for him to express himself. Part of it was also his role — as a Prince of Asgard, he needed to maintain a positive public image. Well, at least he needed to try. He would never give up his seidr studies, and unfortunately being a seidmadr and being respected were two incompatible concepts to Asgard. 

“Charming,” he muttered, shaking his head as he pressed on.

The building’s labyrinthine layout slowed him down considerably. Every time he thought he was closing in, the illusory tracks twisted through another hallway or down another flight of stairs. Were he not such a talented seidmadr he would never find his target. Loki’s irritation grew. This was taking far longer than he anticipated.

However, while a large part of his irritation certainly was the length of the chase, this building revealed something that bothered him far deeper. The further he ventured into this forgotten building, the more it became clear that this wasn’t just a hiding spot. This place had been lived in. 

He passed a few makeshift beds made of straw and tattered blankets. There were small piles of belongings stashed in corners. Once, he nearly tripped over a toy—a crude wooden horse with one leg missing. He saw no one, however. Odd…

Who lived here? The answer was obvious, of course—the people Asgard had left behind. Loki had read the reports, had seen the numbers, but standing here amidst the evidence of poverty struck a different chord. How could he and Asgard’s government have so blatantly failed its people? Nay, he would change this when he got back to the palace. He would bring it before the high coun—

Damn, he thought. Odin’s suspension would be a lot more of an inconvenience than he had anticipated. Not only would he temporarily (or at least he hoped temporarily) have no say in regular council matters, he would have no official avenue to address the current situation. 

He shook off the thought. He was a prince of Asgard, he would find a solution. And anyway, this wasn’t the time for reflection.

A sudden noise snapped him back to the moment. He turned sharply, just in time to see the thief darting out a door at the end of a hallway. Loki muttered a curse and picked up the pace, emerging into the cramped hall.

A dead end. Yet, he didn’t see the thief. They must be hiding. The hall was scarce, with rotted furnishings and a heavy layer of dust filling the room. At the end, however, was a large, floor-length painting. The image itself was quite a piece — a long image of the Yggdrasil with the realms illustrated off each of the nine largest branches. Loki figured that it may have once been beautiful, however years of grime and dust covered the image. 

Aye, Loki knew this trick. He drew close to the painting, pausing in front of it. He ran his fingertips along the edge of the frame, finding a hidden mechanism behind. He clicked in a small lever.

The picture swung open from the wall, revealing a claustrophobic cubby containing a cloaked woman hiding within. The girl looked up, seeing Loki, an expression of fear painted on her face. She attempted to slip by Loki, though he caught her wrist in an iron vice-like grip. 

“You are not getting away so easily,” Loki said, his tone low and commanding.

“Let me go!” she cried, yanking at his grip.

“Not until you explain why you’ve led me on this ridiculous chase through a dilapidated ruin,” he snapped. His patience was wearing thin, though he was careful not to hurt her. Despite her tenacity, the girl was young—far younger than he’d first realized.

Loki adjusted his grip, ensuring she couldn’t twist away, and pulled back her hood. He studied her more closely. The girl was a lot younger than he had expected — perhaps only fifteen Midgardian years. Her angular face was smeared with dirt, her blonde hair falling in messy curls around her shoulders. Her eyes were defiant, but there was something else there—fear, yes, but also a desperate determination.

“Go ahead then,” he said, voice cold. “Run, scream, fight—I assure you it won’t help. But if you explain yourself, I might consider letting you go.”

The girl stopped struggling, though her gaze remained locked on him. “You’ve no right to keep me here,” she said, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“Oh, I assure you I do,” Loki retorted. “Theft is a crime, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“I didn’t steal anything!” she snapped.

Loki raised an unimpressed brow and reached into his cloak with his free hand, producing his missing coin purse. He dangled it between them.

Her expression faltered. “It’s not stealing if you’re rich,” she muttered.

Loki snorted. “Amusing, but let me clarify this misconception: it is always stealing.” He tightened his grip on her wrist ever so slightly. “Now, let’s try again, shall we? Who are you, and why did you run here?”

She hesitated, clearly weighing her options, or rather lack thereof. The girl hesitated, her gaze darting around the hallway behind him, as though she might find a way out. When Loki didn’t move, she slumped in defeat. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, she answered, “My name’s Elira. And I wasn’t stealing. I was—” She cut herself off, chewing on her lip.

“You were?” Loki prompted, arching a brow.

“Trying to survive,” she gritted out through clenched teeth, her voice dropping. 

“And you ran because…?“

“I ran because I didn’t want to get caught!” she replied. “How dim do you think I am?”

“Given you retreated to this dilapidated building to escape? Very,” he claimed, his grip on her wrist tightening to remind her he had the upper hand. 

“This dilapidated building ,” she winced, “is where I live.”

Loki’s grip loosened, confusion flickering across his face. “You live here?”

Seeing her opportunity, Elira yanked her arm free and rubbed her raw wrist, glaring at him. “Yes. Not that it’s any of your business.” She stepped back warily, glancing toward the hallway.

Loki shifted in front of her so as to block any attempts at escape. “You made it my business when you ran,” he said. “Now, explain.”

“What is there to explain? Not all of us live in luxury, as your clothing indicate you do. If poverty is such a foreign concept to you, I suggest you consult a dictionary, as you cannot possibly waste its time.”

“Charmed,” Loki deadpanned. Damn. It appears the glamour was not enough, his basic clothing was still far too rich for this area. “Is the city aware you are residing in an abandoned building? Which, might I add, would be considered trespassing.”

Elira’s eyes widened. “No one is aware, nor do they need to be,” she said, eyeing Loki warily. 

“Hmm, there is a little too much concern in your voice for someone living alone — not tied down by anyone else. Do you have a family?”

Elira looked downwards, yet she remained silent. Aye, that was it.

“Your family,” Loki began, “they live here too?”

“ My family ,” Elira said severely, “is none of your concern.”

“How about you let me decide what is and what isn’t my concern, hmm?” Loki replied. “Now, what does your family do for work? Or do they similarly engage in unsavory activities?”

“My family is perfectly honorable. If you have an issue with my activities, you can arrest me — leave them out of it.”

“Peace, child,” Loki said, his voice softening. “I have no qualms with your family. Or at least I currently have none, that may change if they are found guilty of some crime.”

“They have committed no crimes. My father’s a tailor,” she said bitterly. “Or he is trying to be. No one in this part of the city can afford commissions anymore, not when they’re struggling to feed their families. We don’t have the money to advertise to more wealthy clientele, so here we are. My mother used to help with weaving, but she’s been sick for months. My little brother, he far younger than I am, so he cannot do much. I’m the only one who can still move around, so it’s up to me.”

“And stealing is your solution?” Loki asked, though the bite in his words was absent.

“What else am I supposed to do?” Elira shot back, her voice rising. “You think I want this? Do you think I enjoy sneaking through shadows, hoping I don’t get caught? If we had another way, I’d take it, but we don’t.”

Loki paused, his expression pensieve. This girl was no criminal, she was a child. One trying to make a living and support her ill family. The girl — Elira — made an attempt to push past Loki. Loki swiftly moved in front of her, blocking her attempted escape. 

“Not so fast, girl,” he stated.

“Well, I returned your coin purse, ever so kindly. You have your belongings, you thoroughly interrogated me. Now, be on your way!”

“Kindly?” Loki’s voice was sharp with incredulity. “You call a desperate sprint through the city’s back alleys kindness?”

“I call giving your coin purse back before you can drag me to the authorities kindness,” she countered, her tone bold.

 Loki gave her an unimpressed glare.

 “What are you going to do, then?” she challenged. “Turn me in? Have me dragged off to some dungeon? I’m sure that’ll solve everything.”

“Now, listen here-”

The pair paused, hearing a rustling behind them in an adjacent hallway. Loki turned his head, trying to identify what caused the sound.

“You! You’ve alerted the guards, haven’t you?” She cried. “No, no, nonono, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

The girl looked frantic, her eyes darting around the hallway. That’s when Loki felt it. A faint shimmer, a static filling the air. Seidr. Seidr originating from Elira. 

The light around her hands grew brighter, pulsing with an uneven rhythm. Loki stepped back cautiously, observing her with sharp, calculating eyes. The girl wasn’t panicking—instead, she seemed to be riding the edge of chaos, holding the magic in check. But only just.

That was, until the rustling noise continued. In a bright flash of light, Elira disappeared in a cloud of mist. 

Loki stared at the dissipating mist where Elira had stood, his mind racing. The static in the air lingered for a moment longer before fading into the stillness of the hallway. His sharp gaze flicked toward the corner, where the rustling sound had come from, but nothing emerged.

“Fantastic,” he muttered, straightening his cloak. “A child with unstable seidr and a penchant for vanishing acts. What could possibly go wrong?”

He turned to leave, his frustration mounting, but before he could take a step, the shimmer of seidr in the air snapped back like a coiled whip. The hallway lit up in a cascade of violent, uncontrolled magic, the walls groaning under the force. Loki barely had time to shield himself as the energy lashed out, splintering wood and shattering the nearest window.

“Elira!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. But she was nowhere to be seen.

The magic surged again, a blinding wave of light that cracked the stone floor beneath his feet. Loki braced himself, his hands instinctively conjuring a protective barrier. Through the haze of swirling energy, he could feel the magic’s wild pulse—a reflection of its wielder’s fractured emotions.

And then it stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening, the air heavy with the aftermath of the outburst. Loki lowered his shield cautiously, his sharp eyes scanning the destroyed hallway. Shattered glass littered the ground, and scorch marks marred the walls.

“Elira,” he called again, his voice quieter now, tinged with an edge of concern he wouldn’t readily admit.

Nothing.

He stepped forward, his boots crunching over debris. A faint trail of seidr lingered in the air, leading down the hallway and out into the night. Loki hesitated, his hand brushing over the remnants of her magic as if trying to read the echoes of her presence.

She was gone.

With a sharp sigh, Loki straightened, his jaw tightening. “What a spectacular mess,” he muttered. As he walked out of the hallway, small stray cat ran past him in a flash of fur. Well, that was the noise. 

Loki would let her go, but this wasn’t the end. 

Aye, he had a plan formulating by the second.

Chapter Text

By the time Loki had arrived at the palace, it was already dark. The ride back had been a long one — not because of the distance, after all, Asgard’s capitol was small enough. Nay, rather Loki had been lost in thought the majority of the ride. 

So many thoughts swarmed his head. From getting pickpocketed to confronting a poor child, Loki had many things to consider. At the forefront, however, was the issue of the conditions of the outer-city. 

How could an area so close to Asgard’s capital have fallen into such a state of disrepair? 

Loki had prided himself on knowing the realm, inside and out. He and his brother had adventured over every inch of land Asgard had to offer — or so he thought. Throughout his many adventures, Loki couldn’t seem to recall the area in the slightest. This led him to a nother train of thought: had this been a relatively recent development, or a lasting problem?

A recent development would make sense. His travels had declined as he aged, assuming more duties as he was expected. Perhaps that part of the city hadn’t been that way when he was younger and more adventurous? But nay, that couldn’t be possible.

The buildings there showed obvious signs of wear and tear — indicators that the area had been as such for a considerable period of time. Perhaps there was some disaster? Some freak accident?

No matter what explanation he attempted to conjure, Loki’s mind always went back to the thought that had been bothering him: How had this happened? How had Asgard’s leadership let this happen?

Loki wasn’t naive. Aye, he was a prince and lived in the most luxury the realm could supply. However, Loki had been well-educated and well-travelled. He knew of poverty and its effects. What stumped him was its presence on Asgard. Loki wouldn’t have been surprised if it was quite literally any other realm . But in Asgard? The most developed of the Nine and the Golden City?

He found it quite difficult to believe that this was the product of gross negligence. Nay, there must be something more, he was sure of it. Obviously the damage couldn’t have been done overnight. 

If Odin or anyone on the council had known, they would have rectified this situation as swiftly as they could. Yet, no one knew — or so Loki assumed, having never heard anyone broach the issue. The problem was most likely intentionally swept under the rug. An act of corruption so it would seem. 

Mark his words, Loki would get ot the bottom of this mystery — full member of the High Council or not. Yet, the poverty wasn’t the only issue irking Loki. The matter of the girl — Elira, he reminded himself — had resided in his thoughts.

At this point, he wasn’t all too concerned about the theft of his coin purse. He had it back, and the girl and her family were safe. However, she couldn’t safely go on with that occupation. Eventually, she would be caught; that much was inevitable. Loki longed to help her, but he knew that she was only a minor part of a major problem. 

How many other children were running around in poverty? Loki would find a way to help, however he couldn’t go around helping out every single kid in the slums. Nay, Loki would find the root of this problem from a political perspective and solve the problem systemically…

But, his mind kept returning to Elira. This girl was no normal child. She possessed seidr, and strong seidr at that. That she had no formal training was obvious — she had uttered no words or incantations, relying only on sole feeling to accomplish that what she wished. A power like hers left unchecked could cause serious problems. 

Perhaps Loki could something that would both help Elira immediately and the outercity long-term. Aye, he could see a plan formulating. This was going to be good.

“Sigrid, I have returned,” called Loki. He opened the door to his rooms, stepping into the entry sitting room. 

“My lord, wonderful to see you again tonight,” replied Sigrid. “Queen Frigga reached out to me with concern — you weren’t seen at the evening feast.”

Oh. “Well, please have someone inform my mother that I simply decided to dine in my own chambers since I was studying a particularly complex piece of seidr,” said Loki. 

“Of course, Loki,” chuckled Sigrid. “Speaking of dinner, do you require one?”

“Ever the mother, Sigrid,” laughed Loki in kind. Coincidentally, his stomach chose to growl just as his laughter subsided. Loki scowled. 

“Shall I take that as a yes, your Highness?”

Loki rolled his eyes in response, Sigrid knowing well he would wish for something before he retired for the night. 

Loki heard the main door fall closed, as Sigrid went to the kitchens to retrieve his meal. Loki went over to a cabinet lining the sitting room, withdrawing a bottle of wine from its cupboards. Loki poured himself a glass, returning to a sofa nearer to a window. 

Loki practically sunk into this seat, allowing himself to fully relax. He nursed his wine, savoring every drop. He knew his penchant for wine was relatively unique, as the majority of Asgard preferred to copiously imbibe mead instead. However, he had never been as much of a fan, tolerating it but much preferring wine. Now that he thought about it, his mother also preferred wine — perhaps it was Frigga’s Vanir side in him that liked it. 

Alas, Loki would take this time before his dinner came to simply rest and relax. 

Sigrid returned with his dinner shortly, and Loki had appropriately relocated to his dining chambers. The kitchens had sent up a an array of dishes: meats in a sweeter honey sauce, vegetables sauteed with a salty sauce, and various side courses. The kitchens always sent Loki far too much food when he chose to dine alone, his appetite far less than that of his brother or the other ravenous Aesir. 

He began to eat, savoring the subtle sweetness of the honey glaze that contrasted with the saltiness of the vegetables. Despite the luxurious preparation, his appetite was tepid at best. He absently prodded a particularly ornate side dish with his fork, letting his mind wander.

Sigrid lingered nearby, standing just out of sight but within earshot, ready to assist him if he desired. Loki felt isolated. He longed for some form of company. Aye, he could eat at the evening feasts with his brother and other members of the upper court, yet those crowds were far too raucous for his liking. 

“Sigrid,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yes, my prince?” she replied, stepping forward with a slight bow.

“What do you know of the outer districts of Asgard?” Loki’s kept his tone calm, with an edge of curiosity. Sigrid had known he went out riding, but not where to — and he wanted to keep it that way. 

Sigrid hesitated a moment. “The outer districts, Loki?”

“Yes, those,” Loki said, glancing up at her. “Surely one as resourceful as you know something about them.”

“Always one for gossip,” she chuckled. However, her laugh was cut short as her expression shifted to something more grim. “I... have heard some things about the outer districts, aye.”

Loki arched a brow, setting down his fork. Sigrid had been in his employ for many centuries now, she was never reticent or hesitant around him. “Go on,” he urged.

Her hesitation deepened, and she glanced down briefly before replying. “The outer districts are less fortunate than those in the center of the capitol. It’s… less developed, shall I say.”

“Less developed? How do you mean?” Loki repeated, his tone faintly incredulous. Of course, Loki knew precisely how she meant — he had just spent the majority of his afternoon on a wild goose chase through the area — but he wanted to hear her perspective. 

“People there have to put in a lot more effort to live comfortably” Sigrid said carefully, choosing her words with visible effort.

“And do they,” Loki straightened slightly, his brow furrowing. “Live comfortably, as you say?

“Some are better off than others, as is with any location,” replied Sigrid.

Loki could tell she was obfuscating. Why she wished to downplay the real issue he could never guess. Loki knew the truth behind the horrendous conditions, and “comfortable living” would not be words he would ascribe to them.

“And,” Loki began, “have you seen these districts yourself?”

Now Sigrid looked skittish, he eyes darting around the floor. “Aye, my prince, a few times.”

“And the purpose of those visits?” Loki didn’t want to pry into Sigrid’s personal life, however he needed to know about the outer districts. 

“I was visiting family. I have a cousin who lives out that way,” she responded. 

Oh, Sigrid, Loki thought. Loki dearly hoped that her cousin was better off than the girl he had seen today. “These districts, have they been as such for a long time?”

“Aye, my prince,” she answered. “For as long as I can remember…”

So this wasn’t a recent issue . How had he never known? Loki found it quite hard to believe unless someone was deliberately hiding the fact —

“Sigrid,” Loki asked, “What do the people of the outer districts think of the Allfather?”

She sharply inhaled. Oh, now wasn’t that telling?

“I couldn’t say, my prince,” Sigrid replied, her hands fidgeting with each other. 

Sigrid may not have explicitly responded, but Loki knew well enough the answer. 

“Sigrid, thank you for everything,” Loki stated, his voice rife with genuine emotion. He rose and pushed his chair back in its place. Striding over the door leading to his sitting room, he looked back and threw Sigrid a gentle smile, “That is all for tonight, you may retire whenever you wish.”

The next day Loki chose to have tea with his mother after breakfast. Loki knew Frigga may have been busy, but she would always make time for him if he so wished. Plus, Loki was certain she would want an explanation for his absence at yesterday’s evening feast. Loki chose to dine alone often enough, but his mother was still, well, his mother, so she always asked after him.

Loki entered her study, the intricately embroidered drapes casting a warm light within the chamber. A few setees formed a sitting area aside a large window overlooking the city. A carved desk stacked with correspondence took was the centerpiece of the room, with bookshelves lining the walls.

“Ah, Loki, come in,” Frigga said, rising from her desk with a serene smile and motioning to the sitting area where a servant had already brought a pot of tea. 

“Mother,” Loki acknowledged, striding over to the sitting area. 

Frigga poured tea from a delicate golden pot, the warm aroma of elderflower and honey filling the air. The sun streamed through the high windows of her private sitting room, casting soft light on the intricately embroidered cushions and finely carved furniture. Across from her, Loki lounged in his chair, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his nonchalant posture.

“Will you not eat any scones?” she asked gently, taking a pastry for herself.

“I’ve little appetite,” Loki replied, staring into the amber liquid in his cup.

“Seems to me like you are brooding, perhaps something related to why led you to miss the feast last evening? ” Frigga chuckled lightly.

“I do not brood,” Loki snapped, though his tone lacked bite. “I reflect. There is a difference.”

“Of course,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. “And what, pray tell, occupies your thoughts so thoroughly today? ‘Tis rarer and rarer you seek me out.”

Loki leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Have you heard of Odin’s latest show of wisdom?” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Suspending my high council membership.”

Frigga went still for a moment, “He did what? ”

“Ah, you haven’t heard,” Loki repeated with a bitter laugh. “A minor disagreement blown out of proportion. It took him so little to strip me of my role, a role that — might I add — I had just received the day before! Shall Thor be similarly reprimanded the next time he smashes his cup too hard on the table?”

Frigga went silent for a moment, a pensive look crossing her face. “I know not the circumstances in which he chose to take that course of action… However, I can remind you of this: you are far more than the roles others grant or take from you. Your wit, your cunning, and your gifts are not diminished by Odin’s decree. And though you may feel cast aside, you have a place in this family that no one can take from you, least of all your father’s pride.”

Loki’s expression softened, though he quickly masked it with a sly smirk. “Flattery, Mother? Are you angling for a favor?”

Frigga smiled, her hand lingering on his. “No, my son. Just the truth. And if it brings you comfort, then perhaps it’s a favor for us both.”

“No, it isn’t,” Loki said sharply, setting his teacup down with more force than necessary. “Thor could set fire to the council chamber and still be praised for his passion. But I? A single misstep, and I am cast aside.”

Frigga sighed, setting her own cup down. “Your father does not see things as you do, Loki. But that does not mean he does not value you.”

“Value me?” Loki scoffed. “Spare me, Mother. We both know I am but a thorn in his side, tolerated only because he must.”

“Enough,” Frigga said, her tone firm yet maternal. “You are not a thorn, Loki. You are my son, and you have as much a place in this family as Thor or anyone else.”

Loki’s shoulders slumped slightly, though his defiance did not entirely fade. “It hardly feels that way.”

Frigga reached across the table, placing a hand over his. “Your father may be harsh, but he is not without reason. He has suspended your council duties, yes, but you are not without purpose, my son.”

Loki looked at her, his green eyes searching. “And what purpose would that be? To sit idly while Thor plays the golden prince and Odin steers Asgard into oblivion?”

“Perhaps it is time to focus on other pursuits,” Frigga suggested, her voice softening. “Your seidr training, for one.”

Loki frowned, considering this for a moment. “While I would never pass up an opportunity to learn more seidr, there is the question of how. Most of the knowledge is stowed away on other realms, and while my suspension from the council means I would have more time, I still would struggle to devout the adequate amount.”

Frigga considered that moment, pursing her lips. “Well, perhaps it is time to teach.”

“Teach?” Loki repeated, incredulous.

“Yes,” Frigga said, leaning back in her chair. “You have a gift, Loki. A rare and powerful one. It would be a shame to let it go unshared.”

Loki scoffed, though the idea clearly intrigued him. “And who, pray tell, would wish to learn from me? Asgardians fear what they do not understand, and seidr has always been shrouded in suspicion.”

“Perhaps not everyone,” Frigga said thoughtfully. “There are those who seek knowledge, who yearn for guidance. You might find an apprentice among them.”

“An apprentice,” Loki murmured, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. He imagined a younger figure trailing after him, eager to learn but likely irritating. And yet, the thought of passing on his knowledge, of shaping a mind to wield seidr with the same precision and finesse he did... it was not entirely unappealing.

Frigga watched him carefully. “It would give you purpose, Loki. And perhaps, in teaching, you might find clarity for yourself.”

Loki took a long sip of his tea, his gaze distant. “I will consider it,” he said finally, his tone begrudging but not dismissive.

“That is all I ask,” Frigga said with a gentle smile.

For a moment, silence fell between them, broken only by the soft clink of china as Loki set his cup down. 

An apprentice, he thought. Perhaps there is something there…

Chapter Text

‘Twas the day following his discussion with Frigga that Loki decided to once again venture to the outer districts. He had found it quite an enlightening experience, and one that he certainly wouldn’t forget. For one, Loki was going to make certain that he rectified the poor conditions the lower city was in. However, there was a far more personal reason he wouldn’t forget his experience: the thief. 

Now, Loki was always one for mischief, so he despite his admonishments for the girl, he wasn’t actually that bothered. In fact, given it wasn’t malicious, it was actually quite relieving compared to the perfection of the most of Asgard. He wouldn’t for a moment doubt that there weren’t real thieves in somewhere the city — after all, crime exists, he wasn’t too naive to admit that — but this girl, Elira, wasn’t a real thief. 

All of that served to convince him more that his plan was going to be good. His mother had wanted him to take an apprentice on and he wanted to solve the problem with the outer districts. Well, this was slaying two birds with one stone. He would take the girl on as an apprentice and learn from her the realities of the district.

What could go wrong? 

With that, Loki prepared for his ride, went to the stables, and set off for the day. He chose the same disguise he wore before, as that way Elira would recognize him. He wasn’t planning to offer her an apprenticeship with the second Prince of Asgard right out the bat, nay, he needed to slowly broach the topic with her. He would talk to her as his temporary persona — Lothar, as Loki decided to call him. If he was going to actually do this, he may as well come up with some kind of story. 

Aye, Lothar from the palace. Loki had chosen his most plain clothes and yet she still recognized him as upper class based solely on his dress: either she was far more observant than he thought, or the state of the outer districts was truly horrendous. For his sake, he hoped the former. 

Hmm, but as for the identity of Lothar… He would say he was a librarian, aye! That way he could ask about her knowledge of seidr from an academic perspective. He knew the consequence of untrained seidr, as she demonstrated in the hallway before. He would say he wasn’t going to arrest her out of kindness, and wanted to check in from a scholarly point of view.

Aye, this could work…

The outer districts were just as Loki remembered—chaotic, noisy, and reeking of desperation. Yet something about the place still intrigued him, a rawness that was both foreign and oddly grounding. Draped in his hopefully-weathered-enough cloak, he slipped through the crowd unnoticed, the prince of Asgard reduced to a mere shadow.

Loki recalled that she mentioned her family were tailors. He also recalled that their store was struggling to get by as most people were too poor to be requesting commissions, meaning their shop must have been one of few if any. After asking around enough, he found what seemed to be the only tailor shop in the general area of where her living quarters were.

The shop itself was rickety and old. The glass on the windows of the store was clouded from years of wear and the paint on the walls was peeling. Loki — or Lothar, as he currently was disguised as — turned the handle of the store, the door swinging inwards with a shivering creak. The scent was musty as the smell of old fabrics and wood wafted throughout the store. 

The inside was as lackluster as the out: Wallpaper was chipping off the walls and the floorboards creaked with every step. Bolts of fabric lined the walls, with a counter set in the middle of the room. 

Sitting at the counter was a middle-aged man with short brown hair and a somewhat unkempt beard — the girls father, Loki assumed. 

The man looked up as Loki entered, his expression wary but polite. “Can I help you, sir?” he asked, straightening slightly.

Loki inclined his head, pulling his hood down to reveal the face of "Lothar," a palace librarian. “Good day,” he began, his tone even and unthreatening. “I was wondering if someone named Elira works here?”

The tailor blinked, clearly startled by the question. “Elira?” he repeated, his voice tinged with both confusion and a flicker of pride. “That would be my daughter. Why are you asking?”

Before Loki could respond, a sharp voice called from the back of the shop… a voice he recognized, at that. “Father! I’ll handle this customer!”

Elira emerged from behind a curtain, her expression carefully composed but her eyes betraying a flash of panic when they landed on Loki—or rather, Lothar. She recognized him instantly, and the knot of anxiety in her chest tightened.

Her father frowned. “Elira, I—”

“Please, Father,” she interrupted, her voice hurried but firm. “I’ll take care of it. You were just saying you needed to check over some broken supplies, remember?”

He hesitated, glancing between the stranger and his daughter. “But—”

“Go,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ve got this.”

With a reluctant nod, the tailor retreated into the back room, muttering something about some supplies. The moment the curtain fell back into place, Elira spun to face Loki, her posture tense and defensive.

“You,” she hissed, her voice low but sharp. As defiant and confident as she was in front of her father, Loki could see a hint of fear in her eyes. Aye, this girl was scared. “What are you doing here? Did you come to have me arrested?”

Loki raised a brow, feigning surprise. “Arrest you? Whatever for?”

“You know exactly what for,” she aggressively whispered, her eyes narrowing and glancing towards the back of the store where her father had retreated. “I returned the coin purse. Please. Leave my family and I alone.”

Loki looked at her innocently, “What ever could you be referring to? I know nothing of a coin purse.” Loki was undoubtedly the God of Mischief, and he would have fun with this. After all, she did steal from him, as ready as he was to excuse it; fair is fair, a little fun was deserved.

Elira glared at “Lothar”, “Listen, I don’t know what your angle is. I don’t know what you want. Hel, I don’t even know who you are! But whatever your business is, you can bother me all you like, leave my family out of it.”

“Why, Elira,” Loki responded. “What an intriguing array of statements. Why, pray tell, would I bother your family? After all, I don’t recall any adverse interactions with yourself.”

“I-” Elira began, exasperated. “I returned what I stole, if you are going to turn me in, save the conversation and be done with it!”

“Oh, you stole something?” Loki started, incredulous, pulling a frown on his face. “I distinctly recall a special someone telling me ‘ it isn’t considered stealing if you are rich .’”

Elira sighed. “Is this what you want? An admission?” Elira lowered her voice, clearly cautious of her father in the back. “Fine, yes, I stole your coin purse. However, I returned it and it is currently in your possession. By the Norns, can we please let this go?” 

“Let what go?” Loki drawled, a sly smirk on his face. “Alas, I didn’t come here just to poke fun. I am after some answers. I assume you recall what occurred following our fun little chase. I would like to hear what your experiences with that… type of encounter is.”

“I…” Elira stuttered, clearly hesitant to discuss this topic. “I don’t know what you are referring to…”

“Oh, Elira,” Loki chuckled, “Only I get to play that game. You know precisely to what I am referring to, so I suppose I will cut right to the chase. Have you received any training whatsoever for your — what seems to be — quite powerful natural seidr ability?”

Elira looked up at Loki, a hint of anger showing on her face. “Oh, of course I have received training for my seidr. It’s not as if my family can barely afford to live, leading me to steal to survive. Of course we of all people would have the wealth to afford the tuition for seidr studies!”

Now it was Loki’s turn to look a bit sheepish. “I apologize, I should have assumed,” he replied. “I suppose my question is not ‘have you had formal training?’ but rather ‘would you like formal training?’”

“Well, yes, of course I would like formal training. However, as you can plainly see,” she said exasperated, gesturing about the decrepit shop, “that isn’t precisely within my control. Whatsmore, who are you to barge in here and demand that I receive training for something I have not the resources for! Aye, that is right. I can see you are wealthy enough— you walk with enough confidence and swagger, you clothing isn’t nearly as worn as the people of the outer districts.” 

“Peace, child,” Loki said, bringing a calming tone to his voice. “I am not demanding anything of you. I was simply curious if you would wish to study the subject were the opportunity somehow presented to you.”

“Are you implying—” Elira said, arching a skeptical eyebrow. 

“I would not be the one to teach you, child,” Loki replied, chuckling slightly. 

“But you are implying someone might?”

“Perhaps…” Loki drawled.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” Elira responded, shock spreading over her face. Loki looked at her with raised eyebrows, clearly expecting an answer. “I would be interested, however, as I said previously, I have not the money to afford proper tutelage.”

“Imagine the expenses would be covered,” Loki shot back.

“My family still needs me,” Elira retorted. “Truly, I would love the opportunity, but this is my life. Without me, my family wouldn’t have the funds to survive.”

“Okay, fine, assume that your family would be taken care of.”

“You presume too much, such an offer would never occur,” Elira replied.

“I am simply saying, in the circumstance that something like that were to present itself, would you take the opportunity?”

“Of course! I’m not dim, I wouldn’t squander such an opportunity,” Elira snorted. “I don’t know what you are getting at, however it would take a miracle for something like that to happen.”

“Yes, but would you want to study it?” Loki asked, “ Truly? Would the subject interest you?”

Elira shook her head for a second, “ Yes , I think seidr is interesting and I would love to study it.”

Finally, the answer he was looking for.

“Well, remain observant,” Loki said, his voice gentle and warm. “Perhaps an opportunity will present itself to you.”

Elira looked at Loki, confusion painting her expression.

Loki reached into his pocket and withdrew a few coins, placing them on the counter, “For your troubles,” he said, turning to leave the store.

The golden halls of Asgard glimmered in the afternoon light, the faint hum of activity from the palace gardens filtering through open windows. Loki strode down the corridor, his boots clicking sharply against the polished floor, his mind preoccupied with a dozen schemes and frustrations.

Well, the girl had personality, that is to say the least. 

Loki had been thinking about Elira since he left that shop. Aye, the child would make a good apprentice, he was certain of that. However, the logistics would be a challenge. He was already aware of his popularity — or rather lack thereof — amongst Asgard’s nobility, so he wasn’t particularly concerned about what they would think were he to take on an apprentice from a poorer background. 

What would be an issue, however, would be his parents. Odin could easily countermand anything he wished, including Loki’s plans of an apprentice. However, Loki knew that if he could convince his mother, Frigga would be able to calm any of Odin’s ill-intentions. Aye, he would tell—

“Ah, Loki!” A voice boomed, the tone a blend of cheer and urgency. Thor had seemingly just appeared in the hallway, perhaps Loki had been more lost in his thoughts than he had thought… 

“I’ve been looking for you, brother,” Thor said. 

Loki sighed, already exasperated. “Of course you have. What is it now, Thor? Come to enlighten me with tales of some great, valiant feat?”

Thor’s expression hardened slightly. “I was going to ask why you weren’t at the High Council meeting this morning. Your voice was missed.”

Loki stopped mid-step, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Missed, was it? That’s rich, coming from you.”

Thor blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Loki said sharply, his voice rising, “that Father saw fit to suspend me from the council after our last ‘discussion.’ Apparently, voicing my opposition to your harebrained ideas is cause enough for suspension!”

Thor frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Suspend you? Why would he—”

“Oh, do try to keep up,” Loki snapped, his arms crossing. “It seems our dear father didn’t take kindly to me disagreeing with the Golden Prince .”

“He suspended you over that? ” Thor said incredulously, shaking his head. 

“Aye, brother ,” Loki spat, his voice full of bitterness. “Because there lies the fundamental difference between you and I.”

Thor tilted his head, a trace of confusion in his dimwitted expression. “And what difference is that?”

Loki’s eyes burned with a sharp, almost pained intensity. “You walk into every room and are heard before you’ve even spoken. People assume your strength means wisdom. I, on the other hand, have to fight for every ounce of credibility, only to be dismissed the moment I dare challenge you.”

Thor hesitated, the weight of Loki’s words landing harder than any blow. “Loki, it’s not—”

“I wish to be taken seriously,” Loki interrupted, his voice rising. “Something I imagine you’ll never understand, considering your solutions involve little more than swinging that blasted hammer at anything that looks at you the wrong way.”

Thor’s jaw clenched, but his energy didn’t falter. Instead, he took a deep breath and leaned back, his typical bravado returning. “You think me a fool, Loki, but sometimes a hammer is the answer. Which reminds me—”

“Oh, joy,” Loki muttered.

Thor ignored him, his voice gaining an eager edge. “I wanted to tell you—I’m heading to Vanaheim tomorrow. There’s been a dispute among the clans, and it requires the intervention of a warrior. It will be dangerous, glorious, and, if I’m lucky, end in a feast worthy of Valhalla.”

“And there it is,” Loki drawled, rolling his eyes. “Your eternal quest for glory through bloodshed. I assume the Warriors Three are tagging along?”

“Of course,” Thor said, grinning now. “We’ll restore peace, earn the gratitude of Vanaheim, and remind the Nine Realms why Asgard remains unmatched.”

Loki gave a short, humorless laugh. “You’re insufferable. Do you ever think about anything other than fame and ale?”

Thor smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder with enough force to make him stumble slightly. “It’s not about fame, brother. It’s about honor, about protecting the Realms. You wouldn’t understand—you’re too busy scheming in the shadows.”

Loki jerked his shoulder away, glaring. “And you’re too busy running headfirst into battle without a single thought for the consequences. Do try not to make matters worse while you’re there, Thor. If Vanaheim ends up burning, I’ll be sure to remind Father whose fault it was.”

Thor laughed heartily, the sound echoing down the corridor. “I’ll take that as your blessing, Loki. Fear not, I’ll return with tales to make even you jealous.”

Loki didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he swept past Thor, his cloak swirling behind him like a dark storm.

“Take care, brother,” Thor called after him, his voice brimming with that same maddening energy.

Loki paused briefly, just enough to let Thor notice, before continuing on his way. “Glory hound,” he muttered under his breath.

Chapter Text

Loki knocked lightly on the gilded door to his mother’s study, waiting for the familiar melodic hum of her voice to invite him in.

“Enter, my son,” Frigga called, her tone warm and welcoming.

Pushing the door open, Loki stepped into the room. The air was fragrant with the scent of aged parchment and the faint sweetness of lavender. The Queen sat at her desk, quill poised over a sheet of parchment, her braided golden hair catching the light like a crown.

“To what do I owe this visit?” Frigga asked, setting her quill down and folding her hands atop the desk.

Loki lingered near the window, gazing out at the city below, his hands clasped behind his back. “I came to discuss the… opportunity you broached last we talked.”

Frigga arched an elegant brow. “Oh? And what opportunity would that be, specifically?”

“The matter of an apprentice,” Loki said with a slight smirk. “I was hesitant at the time, but I suppose you could say I’ve reconsidered. After all, every famous seidmadr or seidkonur has taken on an apprentice at some point — ‘tis practically required to become a master.”

Frigga’s expression softened into one of curiosity. “Yes, however you knew that before when I broached the topic,” she stated. “I know you, my son, and I can see through your claims. What has really caused this change of heart?”

Loki stared out of the window for a few moments, eventually turning to catch his mother’s eyes. “I came across someone,” Loki began. “A girl. From the outer districts.”

Frigga’s eyes widened slightly. “The outer districts?”

“Yes,” Loki said, stepping closer to her desk. “She has extraordinarily strong natural seidr, with proper training it would be rival many great sorcerers. Yet she is poor, with no means to afford a formal education. It would be such a shame to see her talents go to waste — not to mention a danger. Such powerful raw seidr… untamed magic can be dangerous”

Frigga tilted her head, her interest piqued. “You are correct, untamed seidr is dangerous, Loki.”

“Which is precisely why I thought of your suggestion,” Loki countered, his voice firm but measured. “She needs guidance, and I—” He hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing. “I believe I could offer her that. She’s clever, resourceful,” Loki chuckled as if laughing at a joke only he knew, “and intriguing, to say the least. That should count for something.”

Frigga leaned back in her chair, studying him intently. A knowing look crawled across her face. “You’ve seen this for yourself?”

“Oh, I’m not sure if seen would appropriately describe it,” Loki said, trying not to chuckle.

Frigga folded her arms, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Do elaborate, Loki. You know I’ll pry until you do.”

“Well, she may or may not have stolen my coin purse,” Loki said, almost casually, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement. “She’s quick, I’ll give her that. Led me on quite the chase through the streets.”

“And yet you wish to take her on as an apprentice?” Frigga asked, though her tone lacked judgment.

“She returned it,” Loki explained, his voice softening slightly. “It wasn’t malicious, she only took it out of necessity. Her family is barely scraping by—her father runs the shop, her mother is gravely ill, and she has a younger brother to care for. She’s not a thief by nature, Mother. She’s a survivor.”

Frigga nodded slowly, her gaze distant as she absorbed his words. “A survivor, and with raw seidr strong enough to rival the most gifted. That is no small thing.”

“Nay, ‘tis not,” Loki responded. “I suppose I am just tired of seeing potential wasted because of something as arbitrary as birth or wealth. We are not wanting for resources, Mother. One girl’s apprenticeship will hardly strain the royal coffers.”

“And yet, this is not merely a matter of resources,” Frigga said softly. “It’s about responsibility. Patience. Nurturing. This is not only about the girl, guiding her will require patience and discipline. Are you certain you’re prepared for such an undertaking?”

Loki smirked, tilting his head. “Patience has never been my strongest virtue, Mother, but discipline? That I have in spades.”

Frigga smiled. “Well, I suppose we shall just have to see how this goes.”

“You seriously don’t mind that I’m taking on an poor apprentice who, on top of having no means to afford an education, is also a thief?” Loki asked, incredulous. 

“Loki,” Frigga responded, “I don’t claim to know this girl, but I trust you.”

“I-” Loki stuttered, “Thank you.”

“Have you talked with her about this opportunity?” Frigga said, changing the tone slightly.

“Aye,” Loki replied. “Yesterday, in fact. I disguised myself with a glamour — as I did when she stole my coin purse — and asked her what she would do if presented with the opportunity.”

“And…?” 

“Well, she was hesitant at first, of course. I would be too if I was in her shoes,” Loki shrugged. “However, after reassuring her that it would be of no cost to her and her family would be looked after, she was actually quite excited — or would be, were it not for the fact she didn’t believe such an opportunity would appear.”

“So she still does not know she would apprentice under the Second Prince of Asgard?” Frigga chuckled, amusement filling her eyes. “That seems like an important detail to leave out, my son.”

Loki waved off the comment playfully, rolling his eyes in jest. “If anything it would serve to improve the offer. Plus, she will know before she officially accepts it.”

“And when would you approach her with this?”

“Well, I was waiting on your approval, but soon I think. Assuming she accepted, I would want a few days for chambers to be prepared for her here in the palace — it would serve her well to be closer to me. Also a few days would allow her to tie up any loose ends before beginning.

“Aye, ‘tis a wise idea, Loki,” Frigga responded. A pensive look flashed across her face for a second, “I would like to meet her, if possible.”

“Of course,” Loki responded.

Frigga stood from her desk, making a move toward the door. “Well then ‘tis settled, we shall see her now.”

Loki blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Now? You mean now, now?”

“Yes, Loki,” Frigga replied, her voice calm but resolute. “Time is precious, is it not? Or were you planning to delay this further?”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “Well, I—no, but…” He gestured vaguely, as if trying to summon a more coherent argument. “We can’t just waltz into the outer districts looking like ourselves. Subtlety, Mother, remember? If word spreads that the Queen of Asgard and her son are traipsing through the poorer quarters, it will cause a stir.”

Frigga stopped in her tracks, turning to face him. “Ah, of course. I suppose you’ve already thought this through?”

Loki’s lips quirked into a small smirk. “Naturally. Disguises are a necessity.”

Frigga crossed her arms, clearly amused. “And do you have something in mind, or shall I take the lead?”

“I’ve handled this sort of thing before,” Loki replied, shutting his eyes in concentration. “Leave it to me.” He stepped back, summoning his seidr with a flick of his wrist. A shimmering green light surrounded him, and within seconds, his regal Asgardian garb transformed into the simple attire of a modest citizen —a dark, well-worn tunic, sturdy boots, and a satchel slung over his shoulder.

“There,” he said, inspecting himself briefly. “Respectable, but unremarkable. Now your turn, Mother.”

Frigga smiled, raising her hand. With a swirl of golden light, her elegant gown was replaced with a plain cloak and a dress of rough-spun fabric, her braided hair tucked beneath a simple hood.

“How do I look?” she asked, a hint of playfulness in her tone.

“Like someone no one would suspect,” Loki said with approval. Then, with a flicker of hesitation, he added, “Are you certain about this, Mother? The outer districts are… not what you’re used to. Not what I’m used to, at that. Needless to say, Asgard is not as golden as we have thought.”

Frigga stepped closer, her expression steady. “Well, then that is all the more reason to go.”

Loki gave a small nod, swallowing his initial instinct to argue. “Very well,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “But try to keep up. The streets can be... unpredictable.”

“I’ll manage,” Frigga replied with a knowing smile. “Lead the way, my son.”

And with that, they stepped out of the gilded halls and into the hidden veins of Asgard, their disguises shielding them from prying eyes as they journeyed toward the girl Loki had spoken of with such conviction.

Frigga adjusted the hood of her plain, worn cloak, the subtle shimmer of seidr making her unrecognizable. Her golden hair was replaced with streaked, mousy brown, and her features softened into those of an ordinary Asgardian. Beside her, Loki strode with the same fluid grace he always carried, though his disguise rendered him an angular, dark-haired figure, unremarkable in every way but for the sharpness of his eyes.

The streets of the outer districts were alive with chaotic energy. Children darted between carts, their laughter interspersed with the grating shouts of vendors hawking wares. The air smelled of ash and refuse, a sharp contrast to the perfumed breezes of the palace.

Frigga paused to let her gaze roam over the scene. A gaunt woman struggled to lift a bucket of water from a cracked well, while a group of boys tugged on a thin rope in a game of strength. The buildings leaned haphazardly, patched with mismatched planks and threadbare fabric.

“This...” she murmured, her voice trailing off as her gaze settled on a child scavenging in a pile of rubbish. “This is Asgard?”

Loki glanced at her from under his hood, his expression unreadable. “The part no one speaks of, yes. Though I don’t recommend dwelling on the aesthetics—it only gets worse.”

“This is intolerable,” Frigga said, her voice firm but tinged with sorrow. “How could we have allowed this to happen? I never even knew…”

Loki shrugged, his tone detached. “Easier to ignore it when you live in a golden palace.Though, I suspect it was delibratley hidden…” Frigga turned to him, raising an inquisitive brow. “‘Tis no matter now, though. Let us take care of this before the other issues. 

Frigga shook her head, her lips pressed into a tight line. “I agree we should focus on the task at hand. But I shall not forget this — this cannot stand. Not in a kingdom we are meant to protect.”

They walked a bit more and stopped outside a narrow shop wedged between two crumbling buildings. Its sign, faded and barely legible, swung precariously in the breeze.

“She lives here?” Frigga asked, her voice quieter now.

“No, ‘tis just her family’s shop,” Loki replied, leaning casually against the wall. “Barely makes ends meet. She lives elsewhere, though — an abandoned building, it would seem.”

Frigga shook her head in dismay, a melancholy expression forming. “Loki, thank you for doing this.”

Loki smirked, “It was really your idea to begin with.”

“The apprenticeship, yes, but not this. You could have told the girl to seek help elsewhere, yet you chose to help her personally.”

“Well, she doesn’t know that yet, I suppose. Shall we?” He asked, gesturing towards the door.

Frigga pushed the door open, a small bell jingling to announce their presence. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old fabrics and wood polish. Loki noted that the store looked the same as it did before, with the exception of a previously in-progress garment sporting a finished look. Well, that and the girl’s father appeared to be absent. 

Instead, Elira stood behind the counter, her hair tied back in a haphazard braid. Her gaze flickered up at the sound, her expression shifting from mild curiosity to immediate recognition as her eyes locked on Loki. She visibly stiffened.

“You,” Elira almost whispered, her voice low and wary. “Please, I know you spoke of opportunity last we met,” he glance drifted towards Frigga — or rather the woman Frigga was disguised as.  “but if your heart has changed please leave me. My family- They wouldn’t get by without-”

Frigga raised a hand, her voice soothing. “Peace, child. We’re not here to dredge up past misdeeds. My son can be... theatrical, but he means no harm.”

“Your son…” Elira trailed off, her gaze lingering on Loki’s hooded & disguised figure before shifting to Frigga. Something in the older woman’s calm demeanor seemed to disarm her, though her stance remained tense.

“Why are you here, then?” Elira asked, folding her arms across her chest. “The shop’s empty. My father’s out, and my brother’s tending to my mother.”

“We came to speak with you,” Frigga said, stepping closer to the counter. Her voice carried warmth and pity for the girl’s situation. “My son mentioned you to me. He says you have a gift.”

Elira’s eyes narrowed. “I- Listen,” she began, looking towards Loki now. “I know you mentioned that a potential opportunity could occur without need of payment or tuition, however as I know that too good to be true I would remind you I have nothing. Unsettled debt is the last thing my family needs at the moment.”

“Child,” Frigga began, “Worry not about that at the moment. I promise, we come with no intention to burden you with anything. Now, I don’t believe I caught your name…?”

“Elira, ma’am.”

“Elira, a beautiful name,” Frigga smiled. “Would you be willing to sit and discuss some things with us?”

Elira looked around the emptiness of the store for a moment, realizing that not tending the counter for a few moments couldn’t hurt. She nodded and slowly rose, walking to a modest set of chairs and a small coffee table in a corner of the shop. Loki & Frigga followed, taking seats respectively. 

Frigga’s gaze softened as she studied the girl. “So tell me, Elira,” she said, her tone gentle. “How long have you known about your seidr?”

Elira shook her head, “I don’t know. It’s always been there, I guess. Little things at first—making a broken toy move, warming my hands when it was cold.”

Frigga nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. “And as you grew older?”

Elira hesitated, her guard lowering just slightly. “It got stronger. Harder to hide. People started noticing— and Asgard does not take kindly to seidr users of any variety.”

“That must have been challenging,” Frigga said softly.

Elira shrugged, chuckling with a laughter devoid of humour. “It’s fine. I’ve got my family. They don’t understand it, but they don’t hate me for it.”

“That is a blessing,” Frigga said with a small smile. “How did you first discover your ability?”

“I have always felt something. Like a warming in my chest,” Elira explained. “It has always been comforting, so slowly I began to learn and use it.”

 “Your gift is not something to be hidden or feared,” Frigga said. “It is something to be nurtured. Taught.”

Elira frowned, caution dominating her expression. “Again, I have no money to pay for that kind of education. The only place to receive such tutoring is by going to a seidr academy off-realm or apprenticing under someone in the palace, and neither of those are feasible.”

“Well, what if the latter was?” Loki said, a sly grin crawling over his face. 

Frigga and Loki exchanged a glance. Without a word, Loki stood, and with a fluid motion, he waved his hand. Green light shimmered, melting away his mundane disguise to reveal his true form—regal, sharp, unmistakably himself.

Frigga followed suit, her seidr unraveling to reveal her golden hair and queenly bearing. The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of their presence filling the small space.

Elira’s eyes widened as she stumbled back a step, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re—”

“The Queen of Asgard,” Frigga finished gently, her gaze steady.

“And the God of Mischief,” Loki added with a wicked grin.

Chapter Text

The Queen and Prince of Asgard…

Elira’s eyes darted nervously between the prince and the queen as the reality of the situation crashed over her. Elira’s eyes widened in shock, as she dropped into a clumsy bow. “My Queen, my Prince, I-I didn’t know— I didn’t realize— Please forgive me!”

Frigga’s brows rose in mild surprise, but her lips softened into a gentle smile. Loki, however, was far more amused at the scenario, resisting a chuckle at her antics.

“There’s no need for all that,” Frigga said warmly, waving a hand to indicate Elira should rise. “We’re here for a conversation, not ceremony.”

Elira rose, drowning in awe at the surreality of the situation. Frigga and Loki took their seats, gesturing for Elira to join them. 

She sat expectantly for a moment — that was, at least, until it hit her. She froze, her face pale.

“Oh no,” she murmured, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I stole from you. You’re the prince ! I— please, I already gave it back, my family—”

Loki leaned back in his chair with a smirk that could have powered all of Asgard. “You mean this coin purse?” he said, withdrawing a small bag from inside a pocket. “Oh, I certainly remember. Quite the little chase you gave me, though I suppose little would be an inaccurate descriptor.”

Elira’s face burned. “I didn’t know you were—” She gestured vaguely at him, scrambling for an answer. “I thought you were just some—some merchant!”

“Well,” Loki said, his smirk widening. “That’s the idea of a disguise.”

Elira buried her face in her hands. “Oh no, this is a nightmare,” she muttered.

“Not at all,” Loki said cheerfully. “In fact, it’s about to get much better for you.”

Frigga chuckled softly, her voice as soothing as a mother’s touch. “Elira, we didn’t come here to reprimand you. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Elira peeked out from behind her fingers, cautious. “You’re… not mad?”

“Oh, I was, but it was rather dampened when I realized it was out of necessity not malice,” Loki said. “I was impressed, in all honestly. Do you know how few people manage to swipe something from me and almost get away with it? I have to admit, it’s part of why I’m here.”

Elira blinked, unsure whether she was being praised or insulted. “Part of why…?”

Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His piercing gaze locked onto hers, and for the first time, the playful smirk faded into something serious. “You’re going to be my apprentice,” he said simply, as though it were already a fact.

Elira’s jaw dropped. “Your… what?”

“Apprentice — if you would like, of course, though I would assume yes,” Loki repeated, his tone dripping with impatience now. “You’ve got raw seidr—magic. Untapped potential. And instead of rotting away here, you’re going to learn to wield it properly. From me.”

Frigga smiled gently, adding, “Loki will be your teacher, but I’ll assist when needed. Magic isn’t just power, Elira; it’s about control and wisdom.”

Elira’s head spun. She’d known they were here to talk about her abilities, but hearing Loki, of all people, bluntly announce he was taking her on as an apprentice? That was something else entirely.

“I live quite far from the palace, though…” she trailed off hesitantly, as though afraid to dream too big.

“Yes, which is why you will be living in the palace” Loki replied. “You’ll have chambers, meals, and everything you need. All we ask is that you focus on your training.”

Elira’s chest swelled with excitement, but just as quickly, doubt crept in. “But… my family,” she said softly, glancing toward the door as though she could see them through it. “I can’t leave them. They need me.”

Frigga reached across the table to place a comforting hand on hers. “Your family will be cared for, Elira. They’ll want for nothing while you’re with us. This is an opportunity for you and them.”

“And trust me,” Loki added, his smirk returning, “you don’t want to pass this up. I don’t offer this kind of chance lightly.”

Elira hesitated, her mind racing. But as she looked at Loki, then at Frigga, she realized there was only one answer. Taking a deep breath, she nodded.

“I mean,” she chuckled, “How can I say no?”

Loki grinned. “Good. Don’t make me regret this.”

“I won’t,” Elira promised, a spark of determination in her eyes.

Frigga beamed at her. “Then it’s settled. We’ll arrange for everything. Rest tonight, Elira. We shall send for you a week from now.”

With that, both Loki and Frigga left the store, reapplying their glamorous as they exited. However, as they were leaving, a door opened from the back of the store as Elira’s father walked in from a backroom…

“Elira, was that—”

“Prince Loki and Queen Frigga,” Elira said as the front door swung shut, a look of worry crossing her face at the coming conversation. 

“My daughter, I— what?” Elira’s father said. 

Elira sighed, this was going to be a long explanation. 

Loki and Frigga waited until they reached the comfort of the Queen’s study to discuss what had occurred. Frigga had seated herself at the cosy sitting area where she normally held tea with her ladies. Instead of his normal distant perch staring out the window, Loki sat opposed to her. With a wave of his hand a flash of green light indicative of his seidr, Loki summoned a tea set and poured him and his mother a cup.

A suspicious smile crossed his mothers face, knowing her son wasn’t always this way. Frigga glanced at him, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. “You like her.”

Loki scoffed, though it lacked his usual bite. “I think she would be interesting to teach, ” Frigga rolled her eyes at that, knowing her son well enough to see through his mask. Loki continued, “Plus, it matters not what I think right now, it matters what you think.”

Frigga glared at Loki for a few moments, the awkward silence filling his mind with dread. What if she didn’t like the girl? What if she didn’t approve of her being from the outer districts? Certainly his mother of all people would support him in this?

“Loki,” Frigga began, “I am so proud of you.” A sincere smile warmed her face, with her kind eyes comforting any who saw. 

That… that was not the response he had expected. 

“I—,” Loki stuttered, tilting his head in confusion. “Pardon me?”

“Why, my son, it takes a certain level of compassion to care for those less fortunate than yourself. Especially,” Frigga added, “when said person wronged you before.”

Loki chuckled, rolling his eyes, “Oh, I don’t care about that. The chase was fun — a welcome way to blow off some steam after what father had subjected me too earlier that day.” 

“Still,” Frigga replied, “it was a kind thing to do. They clearly need the help.”

At this, Loki’s expression turned darker, “As do so many others, mother. Elira was just the first thing on my list, I fully intend to investigate and rectify the situation that has been occurring in the outer districts, mark my words.”

“In that, you have my full support,” Frigga said, shaking her head in dismay, though her expression quickly shifter to one of determination. “Loki, if anyone can or should do this, it should be you. The conditions of the outer districts were unacceptable, and it is abhorrent that I have not been made aware of their troubles.”

“I think that is where the issue begins,” Loki guessed. “My suspicions are that there is some deliberate actor concealing such an issue, whether through corruption or personal gain I know not — however, I do know that I intend to find out.”

“Well, this seems like beneficial project, I suppose I shall leave you too it if you are so inclined,” Frigga nodded. “However, should you require anything, let me know and I am more than happy ot help you solve this.” 

“Of course, mother.”

“Oh, and that goes not only for this issue, also your apprenticeship with the girl — Elira, I believe her name was,” Frigga said, fierce in her protective spirit. 

“So you are confirming that I can take the child on as my apprentice?” Loki questioned, a hopeful hue coloring his words. 

“Of course, my son,” Frigga smiled. “As I said, I am proud that you are taking on such an endeavor. Just do not hesitate to request for help if it is necessary,” she insisted. Frigga was nothing if not a mother first and foremost. 

“I will, mother,” he responded. “And thank you.”

Loki rose to leave, making his way to the exit fo the chamber. However, right as he was about to leave, a knock sounded from the other side. Loki glanced at his mother, as she nodded for him to open in. 

In came a young page, bowing as he entered the chamber. “Your majesty, your highness, the Allfather requests your presence for dinner tonight in the private dining chambers.” 

Loki nodded at the page, signaling for him to leave. Loki glanced at Frigga, an annoyed and bordering on angry expression painting his face. 

“I have no desire to-”

“Please,” Frigga said, a longing look in her eye. “Your father may have made some questionable decisions-”

“So he shouldn’t expect me for dinner,” Loki responded, furious.

“ But, ” his mother intoned, “that doesn’t give you the excuse to avoid your family and be disrespectful.”

“ Disrepectful?” Loki sneered. “ I was disrespectful? The calm and collected councilor, I was disrespectful? No, do you know who was disrespectful? Thor, when he so boisterously acted out in the council. My father dearest Odin,” Loki began, his voice dripping with vitriol, “ when he banished me from the council for something scoffable were it performed by my brother.”

“Loki,” Frigga began sternly, “I do not agree with your father and I understand you are hurting, but that gives you no right ot take that tone with me. You may be an adult now, but that wasn’t so true nary a few days ago.”

Loki sighed, the momentary anger at his father slipping away as he walked towards his mother, holding her hand. “I apologize, mother,” he said sincerely. “I truly didn’t mean to offend you. I just don’t know if I can stand being in the same room with him.”

“Consider it a challenge then,” Frigga smirked, a hint of mischief in her eye. “I know you like challenges.”

Loki chucked, “That I do… That I do,” he trailed off. “I shall see you later, then.” With that, Loki turned to exit the Queen’s study.

Well, this would certainly be a challenge.

Chapter Text

The feasting hall of Asgard was one of the most splendid locations within its borders; after ever glorious battle would come an equally — if not more — glorious celebration. The feasting hall was filled with gilded walls and arched steeples supporting a towering roof. Honeyed meats were piled high on the tables while the casual conversations of the diners were illuminated by glowing candlelight. Parallel tables lined the floor with the perpendicular high table taking front and center at the head of the room.

The high table, however, was conveniently devoid of its intended fare. 

Aye, as glorious as the feasts were, there were nights even the royal family would take their meals in private. This night was one of those.

The private royal dining hall was located far from the feasting hall, set within the residential wing of the palace. The royal dining hall was much smaller, yet no less lacking in opulence. While the walls were equally cast in gold and the lights equally warm, the room contained only one smaller table with seating for ten — four chairs on either side with one at each head.

Seated at the head of the table was Odin: Allfather, King of Asgard, & King of the Nine Realms. To his left was Frigga, her serene composure a counterpoint to her husband’s stern expression. 

This is going to be an interesting night , though Loki as he entered the chamber. 

Loki walked toward his usual seat next to the one at Odin’s right, noting how Thor was once again late. Or at least, so he thought, as his mother spoke up before he could seat himself.

“Loki, darling, Thor has yet to return from his quest in Vanaheim,” Frigga said, her eyes flitting towards the chair usually reserved for the crown prince… directly to Odin’s right.

Loki inhaled sharply, forcing a smile onto his angular face, “Of course, mother.” Loki then seated himself next to Odin, glancing at the man for only a moment before directing his attention back to his mother and then to whatever around the chamber would so interest him — as long it did not have to do with this awkward dinner. 

For a few moments, they sat in silence as servants brought in the plates of meat and other dishes for dinner. Frigga looked up from her plate, trying at an attempt of conversation. 

“I hear the weather on Vanaheim is very good this time of year,” she stated.

Both Odin and Loki nodded and muttered something along the lines of an approval. A servant came by to fill their glasses with alcohol — Odin’s with mead, but Loki & Frigga’s with wine, as was their preference. 

Loki swiftly grabbed his glass and took a hearty drink of his wine, earning him a glare of disapproval and concern from his mother. He merely smiled back in response. 

Loki would rather sit in silence than have any conversation, so he would not be the first to crack under the ever growing weight of awkwardness hanging in the air. 

“So,” Odin finally said, his voice breaking the uneasy silence like the toll of a bell. “Thor writes of his exploits in Vanaheim. He claims the Vanir were most impressed by his strength in resolving the border dispute.”

“Of course they were,” Loki said, his tone deceptively light, though his knuckles tightened around his fork. “What dispute could stand against a thunderstorm?”

Frigga cast a warning glance at Loki, but Odin seemed unfazed.

“Thor understands when force must be applied,” Odin replied evenly. “He does not shy away from responsibility.”

Loki’s jaw tightened, but he kept his gaze on his plate. The words hung in the air, their implication unmistakable: You, however, have failed in your responsibilities.

Frigga decided to speak, realizing her son would not continue the conversation. “Thor’s talents are well-suited to the battlefield,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “But Asgard’s strength lies in more than just its warriors. Diplomacy, strategy, and magic all have their place.” She glanced at Loki meaningfully. “Some talents take a different path to flourish.”

Odin grunted, his attention shifting to the golden goblet in his hand. “Perhaps. But some paths lead astray, and discipline must be enforced to ensure they do not stray further.”

The tension in the room thickened. Loki set down his fork, his fingers twitching slightly as though resisting the urge to reach for his dagger.

“Discipline,” he said quietly, though his voice carried a sharp edge. “Yes, of course. A suspension from the council is such a… measured form of discipline.”

“Enough,” Odin said, his tone brooking no argument. “We’ve had this conversation. Your actions merited it.”

Loki gritted his teeth, trying his best not to respond with anger. He was better than this, he wasn’t going to let his father get under his skin. 

Frigga placed her hand lightly on Odin’s arm, a gesture meant to soothe rather than silence. “Perhaps now is not the time to dwell on past decisions,” she said, her voice as soft as silk. “There are more pressing matters at hand.”

Loki arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into an insincere smirk. “Indeed, Mother. What pressing matters would those be?”

Frigga ignored his sarcasm. “Loki,” she said gently, “have you informed your father of what we spoke of earlier?”

Loki’s grin swiftly disappeared, a stern expression enveloping his features, “Whatever could you be referring to, mother dearest?” 

Please, for the love of the Norns, take the hint! Odin would surely disapprove of him taking an apprentice!

“Oh, my son, I have not known your memory to be so fickle in the past,” Frigga began, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Alas, I shall remind you. Our discussion about taking on an apprentice.”

Odin looked up sharply, his one good eye narrowing as it flicked between his wife and his son. “An apprentice?”

Frigga’s serene smile didn’t waver. “Yes. Loki has found a promising young talent. A girl from the outer districts, if you can believe it, with a natural gift for seidr.”

“The outer districts?” Odin’s voice was laced with skepticism. “You would bring someone from there into the palace to study magic?”

Did Loki detect a hint of knowledge about the outer districts from Odin? The way he spoke of the place was filled with vitriol and disgust, perhaps the Allfather knew more than he was letting on about the wellbeing of Asgard… 

Alas, it would have to wait until after dinner.

“She’s more than capable,” Frigga said firmly. “In fact, Loki & I went to meet her earlier today. It would be a good use of Loki’s time during his… time away from the council.”

Odin leaned back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “And you believe she is worth the resources of the palace? The guidance of a prince of Asgard?”

“I do,” Frigga said before Loki could respond. “Her presence here would not only benefit her but also Loki. Teaching is a noble endeavor, one that might—” she paused delicately, choosing her words— “ground him in his talents and responsibilities.”

Loki shot her a sharp look but said nothing.

Odin looked at his plate for a moment, pensive. He then lifted his eyes upon Loki, a sly grin appearing on his face. “Yes,” Odin began, “perhaps taking on an apprentice would benefit you.”

Loki looked at his father in shock.

“In fact,” Odin continued, “Teaching would suit you well. It requires patience and the ability to hear others, both of which appear to be qualities you lack.”

Oh, now that had done it. 

“Do you take joy in humiliating me every moment you see fit?!” Loki shouted, his chair screeching backwards as he rose from his seat. 

“I can see my assessment was not incorrect,” said Odin, a stern look crossing his face as he stood to match Loki. 

“Oh, isn’t that brilliant?” retorted Loki, “I’m sure Thor has none of my so obvious flaws, after all when was the last time he failed to be patient or listen? When he escaped to have fun on Vanaheim he openly admitted he hadn’t listened to a thing that happened following that council meeting, and yet you laud him nonetheless!”

“He is fulfilling his duties!” Odin shot back. “Something you might consider.”

“I just might!” Loki responded, voice rising and controlled façade cracking. “Tell me, father, do you take joy in pretending Thor’s brawn is all Asgard requires? That your other son—the clever one, the capable one—has no role beyond being a scapegoat for your displeasure?”

Frigga placed her hands on the table, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. “Loki—”

But Loki pressed on, his voice cutting through hers. “You cast me aside because I don’t fit your mold of what an heir should be. Fine. Let me serve in the way I see fit. Let me take an apprentice and let me teach her. But do not, for one moment, believe that I am doing this for you because you think I need to be taught patience, of all things! I have accrued enough patients dealing with your antics. ”

Odin leaned forward, his single eye blazing. “You think this stunt of yours will prove something? Fine. Take her. But understand this: if she fails, it is not just her failure. ‘Tis yours. I give you a week at best!”

“Fine!” Loki’s chair scraped loudly as he stood, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Then I will take her, and I will succeed. Not for you, but despite you.”

“Enough, both of you!” Frigga’s voice rang out, firm and commanding, silencing the room. She stood, her serene demeanor gone, replaced by a rare display of anger. “This bickering achieves nothing. Odin, you do not see the strength in your son, and Loki, you push too hard to prove yourself. This must end.”

The tension in the room was palpable. Odin rose from his chair, his expression unreadable, and turned to leave without another word. His heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, leaving Frigga and Loki alone in the vast dining room.

For a moment, neither spoke. Loki stood rigid, his jaw clenched, staring at the empty seat where Odin had been.

“Loki,” Frigga said softly, her voice full of sadness and something deeper—hope.

He shook his head and exhaled sharply, “My deepest apologies, mother,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, “on ruining such a potentially wonderful evening with family.” 

With that, Loki turned and made his leave.

Loki swept into his chambers, his face a thundercloud of irritation, and the door swung shut behind him with a dramatic flourish. Sigrid, perched by the hearth arranging freshly polished goblets, barely glanced up. She’d long learned that his storms blew harder when they weren’t immediately indulged.

"Did you have a good dinner, my lord?" she said dryly, sliding a goblet onto the shelf without missing a beat.

"Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it," Loki snapped, pacing the length of the room like a restless predator. "Odin was insufferable, as always. He acted as though I’d personally affronted the Nine Realms by daring to suggest taking on a new apprentice, and then — once my mother told him to think on it — he had the audacity to suggest it only then would be good for me, diminishing my talents in the process!"

Sigrid’s hands froze mid-motion. She blinked, turning to him. “A new apprentice ?”

Loki stopped and tilted his head at her as if just realizing something. “Oh,” he said with a faint wince. “Yes. I suppose I forgot to mention that to you.”

Her brows rose. “How recent of a development is this, Loki?”

“Yes, well, it’s been a rather busy few days,” he said with an almost dismissive wave of his hand. “Between Odin stripping me of my High Council seat and Frigga attempting to mediate everything, I’ve had other matters occupying my thoughts.”

“Clearly,” Sigrid said, folding her arms. “So, who is this apprentice? Another promising young noble with too much ego and too little talent?”

Loki smirked, his irritation softening slightly. “Hardly. She’s from the outer districts.”

That made Sigrid pause. “The outer districts?” she echoed, a note of curiosity slipping into her usually calm tone.

“Yes. Practically a street rat by Asgardian standards,” Loki said, leaning against the back of a chair. “She’s resourceful, clever, and has a raw aptitude for seidr that I haven’t seen in some time. She’s rough around the edges, but that can be refined.”

Sigrid arched a brow. “You? Refining someone? This I have to see.”

“Laugh all you like,” Loki said with a smirk. “But I see potential in her, Sigrid. Odin may think this is a folly—a pet project—but I’m determined to prove otherwise.”

Sigrid studied him for a moment, then tilted her head. “And where exactly do I come into this?”

Loki straightened, his tone shifting to something more pragmatic and business-like. “Well, I’ll be handling her seidr training personally, but she’ll also need to learn palace etiquette, courtly behavior, and a thousand other things if she’s to survive here. We will get her a tutor for the majority of it, however I would appreciate it if you could spend some time with her, either before or after her lessons and engagements — if that is something you would be amenable to.”

“Of course, I would be happy to hep,” Sigrid replied, a small smile flickering across her face which then turned to a questioning glance. “But Loki, will you not need me around as much?”

Loki chuckled, “Let us be honest with ourselves, Sigrid, she will need far more help than I, and you are the one person I trust to ensure she receives it. Plus, it shan’t take much of your time. With this apprenticeship and a newer… shall we say, commitment, of mine, I won’t be requiring as much as before either.”

Sigrid was quiet for a moment, then nodded slowly. “If you don’t mind me asking, Loki, what is the girl like? And, by your previous statements, I assume she will be staying in the palace…?”

Loki’s expression softened, almost imperceptibly. “She’s… stubborn. Quick-witted. You shall meet her soon enough, she will be here in a week from now — giving us plenty of time to make appropriate arrangements. As for your latter statement, she is indeed being given guest chambers in the palace.”

Sigrid’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Very well. If you think she’s worth it, I’ll do what I can to help her.”

“Thank you, Sigrid,” Loki said, his tone more genuine than usual. “Between Odin’s scorn and the court’s whispers, this is going to be a delicate balancing act. I’ll need every advantage I can get.”

Sigrid inclined her head, her expression thoughtful. “You seem… invested in this. More than usual.”

Loki’s gaze flickered away, his jaw tightening for a moment. “Perhaps,” he said softly. Then, with a faint smirk, he added, “Or perhaps I simply enjoy proving Odin wrong.”

Sigrid chuckled, shaking her head. “Either way, it’s bound to be interesting.”

Loki chuckled, “ Interesting is certainly one way to put it. ” 

Chapter Text

The golden light of dawn poured over Asgard, highlighting its towers’ hues of gold and flame. Though it was scarcely six in the morning, Loki strode toward the training yards, his stride purposeful but unhurried. 

Despite his quite vocal criticism of his brother’s near constant need to train, Loki didn’t actually loathe training. He found it quite relaxing at times to exercise his body, as his mind was so often preoccupied with other matters. What he could not understand, however, was how anyone — including his oaf of a brother — could enjoy doing something so monotonous every single day.

In fact, it seemed in Asgard’s nature to resist any change, a standard he clashed with often — his newest endeavor of taking an apprentice notwithstanding. While he was sure it would garner him plenty of scorn from certain nobility, he couldn’t help but enjoy the scandal it would cause. The prince taking an apprentice from off the streets — he could already hear the gossip, he thrived on it. 

Alas, while he wished to ponder the chaos it would create, he found himself arrived at the training yards. He had no particular goal per say, save to occupy himself and partake in some exercise; perhaps spar, perhaps hone his blade work, anything would suffice. 

The clang of steel echoed in the crisp morning air as he approached the sprawling grounds. The familiar scents of leather and sawdust filled his senses as Asgard’s warriors sparred under the watchful eyes of instructors. Loki’s keen gaze swept over the scene, cataloging familiar faces.

As normal as it may have seemed, Loki was quite surprised to find General Tyr out observing the training, as the General tended to concern himself with other matters this early in the morn. Tyr’s bearing loomed over the trainees, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes a portrait of unwavering discipline. Despite missing a hand, he garnered infinite respect across Asgard — after all, no aesir had not heard the glorious tale of his battle with Fenrir.

Tyr was observing a pair of young warriors sparring. His voice, deep and clipped, carried over the clash of swords. Loki could hear him barking some orders at a young trainee, “Shift your weight to the front foot when you strike. Hesitation will cost you—there. Again.”

Loki debated whether to approach him. Loki knew that Tyr wasn’t the type to entertain idle conversation, and he wasn’t particularly in the mood to be lectured — though then again he never was and that never seemed to prevent it from happening. Nay, he would simply go about his own way, and if the general wished to approach that was his prerogative. 

Loki walked past Tyr, his boots crunching against the gravel. However engaged the General seemed in the training, it would appear that Loki couldn’t slip his sight. Tyr turned his head slightly and approached Loki, “Prince Loki.” He inclined his head briefly — a mark of respect. “‘Tis not often I find you in the training yards, much less at so early an hour.”

Loki turned to approach the man. “The same could be asked of you, General — though only with the latter remark’s subject of timing.” Tyr grunted in response, leading to a slight smirk from Loki. “Alas, I suspect we are here for similar reasons. A distraction from court, perhaps?”

Tyr’s lips twitched in what Loki would wager was the closest the man would get to a smile. “And you thought to find one by looming in the training yards at sunrise?”

“Not looming,” Loki corrected. “I was simply pondering what exercises I might engage in.” A small chuckle escaped Loki’s lips, “Though watching you bark orders is engaging enough.”

The general said nothing for a moment, returning his gaze to the sparring match. He gestured sharply, and the warriors stepped back, saluting him before moving off to another station. “What do you want, Loki?” Tyr asked, his tone direct but not unkind.

“Want?” Loki tilted his head. “Must I always have an agenda? I mean it with all sincerity when I say I simply want a distraction.”

Tyr exhaled a quiet sigh, gesturing for Loki to follow him as he began to walk along the perimeter of the yard. “You’ve always enjoyed keeping others guessing, for you a distraction could mean many things. But I’ve no patience for riddles, least of all before breakfast.”

Loki fell into step beside him, his hands clasped behind his back. “Despite our clashes in the past about the military, I wish not to disturb your work. Though you may believe otherwise, I truly do have no grand schemes or ulterior motives. I’m here because there is little else to do. Father has seen to that.”

Tyr glanced at him sidelong. “Odin was heavy-handed in suspending you, I’ll admit. But your actions carried weight, my Prince.”

“And you’re wish to remind me of that, no doubt?” Loki’s voice was sharper than he intended.

“I remind no one of what they already know.” Tyr’s tone was calm, resolute. “But I will say this: whether or not you approve of your father’s methods, his expectations are not unwarranted. You hold a place in Asgard that demands discipline and purpose. I hope you can see that, at the very least.”

Loki was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the warriors training nearby. “I see it, General, more than you may think” he said finally, his voice quiet. “Though, I occasionally question whether my brother does, as that was indeed the root of the conflict.”

Tyr shook his head, his expression unreadable. “There are differences in expectations between you and your brother, my Prince. Quite obvious, in fact, as he is off serving Asgard in Vanaheim at the moment whilst you remain here at the palace.”

“Hmm,” Loki began, “‘Twas not as if I had been asked whether I wanted to bring glory to Asgard or whatnot.”

Tyr raised an eyebrow, “Your highness, let us be frank with each other, it is completely within your power to join your brother on his endeavors, no need for an offer. While perhaps ‘tis customary, most know you would decline so none have been made to save time.”

“Well, perhaps I would have liked a request? Are my talents so quickly dismissed?” Loki said, knowing that that was the real reason he hadn’t been asked. Loki did dearly enjoy provoking Tyr.

Tyr’s response, however, was not what he had been expecting. Instead of fury or some other negative emote, Tyr actually began shaking his head and seemed even pensieve over his comment. “Perhaps they shouldn’t be, if this mission is and indicator.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at that, as it seemed the General expected Loki to know what he was referring to. 

Tyr glanced at Loki in confusion, “Had you not heard? Prince Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three are experiencing major difficulty in Vanaheim. While I do not fear for their lives, I do fear for the completion of their objective.”

Loki snorted at that, “Did my brother finally discover that hitting things won’t solve all his problems?”

Tyr simply rolled his eyes, choosing not to engage in Loki’s prodding. “Alas, it will most likely be about another week before he returns — and that is at the soonest.”

“Well then, I suppose us on the sidelines shall just have to wish them the best.”

“Enjoy your time this morning, Loki,” Tyr said, with a stern look on his face.

And with that, the general strode away, his sharp bark directing a new group of warriors into formation. Loki remained where he was for a moment, the morning sun warm against his face, before turning toward an empty sparring ring to commence what he first came here to do. 

The morning’s training session was quite satisfying, as Loki returned to his chambers as a mess of sweat and grime. Though, after a quick bath, he was ready to approach his other goal for the foreseeable future: the matter of the outer districts. While Loki was certain that someone in Asgard’s leadership must know about their state, he wasn’t quite sure who.  

His first instinct was to visit Lord Fyrirtal, one of Odin’s advisors and head diplomat. Also, Loki’s old mentor in political affairs. His relationship with Fyrirtal had always been amicable and productive, so he supposed the man would be the first person he would start with.

Loki approached the Lord’s administrative study, his stately chambers much as Loki remembered them: orderly and refined, with shelves of scrolls and a faint scent of ink and cedarwood in the air. The space certainly reflected its occupant’s meticulous nature, as Loki had well seen how orderly and precise the man could be.

Fyrirtal looked up from his desk as the door opened, his sharp eyes widening slightly in surprise before softening with a warm, if formal, smile. The elder statesman rose to his feet, bowing slightly as Loki approached.

“Prince Loki,” Fyrirtal greeted, his voice genuine as ever. “While this is certainly a surprise, ‘tis always a pleasure to see you. Though, I must say, I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Loki inclined his head, stepping forward with an air of nonchalance. “It seems word of my council suspension travels quickly.”

“That, and your absence from the subsequent High Council meeting was quite telling.” Fyrirtal gave a sympathetic sigh, gesturing for Loki to sit. “Such decisions rarely remain private for long. I trust you are managing?”

“As well as can be expected,” Loki replied smoothly, taking the offered seat. “Though it does leave me with a surplus of time for other pursuits.”

“Such as visiting me?” Fyrirtal teased lightly, his brows raising in faint curiosity. “Not that I don’t welcome your company, but I suspect you’ve come with a purpose. What brings you here today?”

Loki allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. “The outer districts.”

Fyrirtal blinked, startled by the abrupt shift. “The outer districts? What of them?”

“I’ve taken an interest,” Loki said, leaning back in his chair. “They are rarely discussed in council meetings—perhaps too rarely. Tell me, Fyrirtal, what do you know of their current state?”

Fyrirtal’s frown was brief. “I receive regular reports, of course. They indicate that the districts are stable, trade is flowing, and the people are content.”

Now, wasn’t that telling? Loki had no doubt his old mentor was telling the truth, knowing the man in full. Unless those conducting the reports were downright negligent, there must be some discrepancy in their handling. The only question was how…

“And,” Loki began, “you’ve no reason to doubt these reports?”

“As much as I do any others,” Fyrirtal replied, his tone measured but tinged with curiosity. “Why this sudden concern for the outer districts? Has something reached your ears that I should be aware of?”

Hmm, Loki thought, while he trusted Lord Fyrirtal instinctively, if this was some grand conspiracy, perhaps less public knowledge would be a beneficial.

“Oh, nothing concrete,” Loki admitted, waving a hand dismissively. “Merely a hunch, perhaps. Call it… an exercise in vigilance.”

Fyrirtal studied Loki carefully, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve always had an instinct for matters others might overlook. Still, I assure you, the outer districts appear to be functioning as they should. If you’d like to review the reports yourself, I can direct you to them.”

“Do you keep them here?” Loki asked, though he already suspected the answer.

“No,” Fyrirtal said with a shake of his head. “All such documents are forwarded to the archives for proper cataloging. Lady Hilde oversees them personally—if there’s anything of note, she will have seen it.”

Ah, Lady Hilde. Loki had always been fond of the woman, with her being the palace librarian since as long as he could remember. He had seen her oft enough, this would be an easy request.

Loki nodded slowly, rising from his chair. “Then I shall pay her a visit. Thank you, Lord Fyrirtal.”

The older man stood as well, his gaze still curious. “Loki, if there is something you suspect—anything at all—you will let me know, won’t you? The outer districts are vital to Asgard’s stability. If there is unrest, it must be addressed swiftly.”

“Oh, I doubt unrest is the concern,” Loki said, cryptically. He offered a small smile. “But for now, consider this nothing more than idle curiosity.”

Fyrirtal gave a faint smile of his own, though his concern was evident. “Idle curiosity, perhaps. But do let me know what you find.”

“I will,” Loki promised, turning to leave.

As he stepped into the corridor, Loki’s mind raced with possibilities. Fyrirtal’s sincerity seemed genuine, but Loki had learned long ago that appearances could be deceiving. Whatever the truth of the outer districts, he would uncover it—and Lady Hilde would be his next step.

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.