Chapter Text
I won't speak ill of him. He is still my prince. He committed heinous crimes. I won’t - can't - deny that. But I won’t speak ill of him.
I wasn't alive for the rebuilding of Asgard’s wall. I dare say I wasn’t even a thought at that time. My father was barely into adulthood himself and didn't meet my mother until much later. I was born a couple of centuries after, but I know the story. Well, not the story of the wall, exactly, but what happened after. And it isn’t much of a story. That's what Loki told me, anyways.
As a young girl, I never understood why the people disliked the younger prince. My childhood home was close to the main street, and having spent a lot of time sitting at my window, I was able to watch him walk by every time he visited the marketplace. I thought it was a curious thing – silly, really – how he was always alone, but even more so the fact that he left the palace to go to the market. Nobles always had guards with them and never left their halls for such a common thing as buying whatever it was he was buying. Except him. And I knew he was buying something because when he walked back to the palace, he was carrying some bags that looked a tad heavy to me.
I ignored it. It was none of my business, and he looked weird anyway. But curiosity was gnawing away at my mind, so I asked my father. My mother wasn't around anymore by then. Some magical illness common amongst her kind. What I didn't know back then was that it could be said that my father led the Anti-Loki movement. He never had a nice thing to say about the prince, and that's how I had my first lecture on the disgrace Prince Loki was to Asgard. Enter the horse incident.
I had seen Sleipnir before. His eight legs were funny. But him, a disgrace?
“Pfft, that's one pretty horsey. You're crazy, daddy.”
My father didn't like that, no siree. I got grounded for that. But it was true! Sleipnir was pretty. But funny looking, yeah.
When I was finally free to go outside after days of staring out my window, knuckles digging into my cheek, I ran down the main street like a Frost Giant was out to get me. Didn't bother looking where I was going. I was free. I crashed face-first into someone's leg. Without thinking twice, brushing the hair my parents always said complimented my temper quite nicely out of my face, I sent my best glare up to whoever was blocking my path. It was the prince I saw. The younger one. My eyes widened in shock as I jolted upright. No better way to meet the man I had been spying on for months than by crashing into his leg. Why me?
My expression didn't change, perhaps except for the flush that appeared on my face, when the only thing the prince did was give me a funny look, amusement swimming in his emerald eyes.
My father always said the second prince was bad tempered, but he didn't look like a bad tempered man to me.
I stared after his retreating back long after he disappeared into the crowd.
~°•°~
The next time I encountered the prince, it was of my own design. I didn't crash into him. That ought to be a good start, I told myself. He was examining something between his fingers, eyes narrowed with concentration, when I blurted out, “Why do people hate you?”
Way to go, you.
He spared me a sideways glance. No recognition whatsoever. “Never you mind.” He made a shooing gesture. How dare he? “Run along now.”
If he thought I would be dismissed so easily, he was sorely mistaken. “But I want to know.”
And I would know.
“Well, we cannot all have what we want, can we?” he asked sweetly. And it wasn't fair for him to say that. He didn't need to remind me that I can't have all I want just because he was royalty. It hurts to think about now. Because, seriously, what could he want? He had everything. He lived in the palace, had a fortune he could spend to his heart’s desire, all his trips to the market proving just that. So what could he want that he didn't already have? Or that he couldn't get by barking an order? He even had a mother .
It all seemed like a pretty sweet deal to me back then. I realise now that I was wrong.
Loki wanted.
Loki desired exactly what he was told he couldn't have. The spoiled brat. There is so much more to it, though.
“Why not?” I demanded, tilting my chin up.
He lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug and placed what he had been examining on the table. It was a stone. What was so interesting about a stone?
“Do you think I would still be here if we could?”
I frowned. “Where else would you be?”
“Somewhere else.”
“But where?”
He began walking and I jogged to keep up with his long strides.
Stupid adults and their long legs.
“Another place.”
“That's no-"
I cut myself off when I heard my name being called. Hopefully, no-one had noticed who I was talking to, or I was sure to be in trouble with my father again. A boy was calling for me, pointing at a ball. Well, that was a whole lot more interesting than a moody adult.
“Sorry, gotta go.”
I ran off to play with the boy, not turning back to look at the prince. I had been sure I would see him from my window soon. From where he looked more… magical, I suppose. Prettier. But I was wrong. I did not see the dark-haired man for almost a century to come and even then it was by accident. As much as sneaking out of my house at midnight could be an accident.
~°•°~
The horse. Couldn't people let that go already? That happened long before I was born, and people were still muttering about it. If it was so shameful, so disgusting, then why didn't they just stop talking about it?
People.
I rolled my eyes at the idiots around me.
Still living at the same house with my father, I was one of those at the front line, having a perfect view of the king mounted upon his eight-legged steed. King Odin's grandson, if rumors were to be believed. But that's all they were to me. Rumors. Why should they have been anything else? I had spoken to Loki once by then, and he had a stick too far up his skinny ass to ever reduce himself to such a thing.
Behind King Odin came Asgard’s heir, and I couldn't help it. I reacted as all maidens did in his presence, a blush rising up to my freckled cheeks at the sight of that perfect, white smile, the tons of muscles. It effectively took my mind off of Loki.
There was no doubt the animal was quite a sight. The anomaly of his eight legs more than enough to set him apart from his kind. All across the Nine Realms people said he was the fastest, strongest horse to have ever existed. But again, those were only rumors to me. Although, I supposed he must possess some extraordinary trait to be guarded so jealously by the king, and the number of his legs could not be it. Had to be something else.
Only three handlers and the king himself were allowed near the horse. The princes were not included. And even though I would never be legally allowed near Sleipnir, so to speak, I would get to the horse even if it was the last thing I did.
I was right, yet wrong about so many things.
I can't say I regret it, though.
~°•°~
I waited long after night had creeped in, waited for everyone to fall asleep. Despite my father's love for speaking about how honorable Asgard’s guards were, I knew it was nothing near the truth. I had seen them fall asleep during active duty all my life and doing… things . They looked wrong to me. I don’t want to say unnatural , but it went against what I was taught. Loki went against every societal norm without a doubt, come to think of it. It doesn't look so wrong anymore. I wasn't so young that I didn't know what they were doing, but I loathe to think about it, as I did back then. No-one should see that. End of story. Well, almost.
I loathe thinking of the Einherjar as anything less than honorable because my father is one of them. Or was. I don't know. We haven't heard from him in a long time.
Anyway, I reached Sleipnir’s stable without complications. Both guards were sprawled out on the floor, sleeping peacefully. I scowled at their impertinence, their audacity. They usually slept standing, pretending to be awake, you know. These must be quite the lazy bunch, but why would the king choose them to guard his most prized steed?
The sound of horse hooves shuffling through hay and a silky voice reached my ears. I pressed myself against the stable wall, taking a peek in when I heard Sleipnir’s whinnies.
Sleipnir was laying amongst the hay. A man was reclined against his side, stroking his mane. The speaker.
“It's alright. One day, I promise. One day, we'll leave this wretched place behind. You'll see.” Sleipnir snorted and the man hid his face in the horse's neck, his voice barely audible. “I just need more time. Please, hold on a little longer.”
I recognized the voice. It was Prince Loki. The man was talking to the king’s steed. He must either be very lonely, or he had finally gone mad. Maybe both. No wonder he hadn't made any public appearances in a century. Trying to get a better look inside, I slipped, startling both man and beast. Sleipnir moved way more swiftly than should be possible for an animal of his size, hiding the prince from sight.
Argh, why did I have to be so clumsy?
I moved to stand in front of the entrance, placing one foot inside the stable. “I know you're there.” I called, and Sleipnir ducked his head, hooves padding at the ground. “I heard you speaking.”
A head appeared around Sleipnir's legs. “How much did you hear?”
“Everything.”
From the moonlight filtering through, I saw the prince blanch.
“What are you going to do about it?” he asked cautiously.
I jerked a hand forward. “Well, you can't steal him.”
“It's not stealing. He's my son!”
“So that story is true, huh?”
“Yes,” he hissed, rising to his feet and swinging his arms over Sleipnir’s back. “What are you doing here? You're not a guard.”
“A very astute observation, my prince.” Was this the temper my father complained so much about? “Same as you, I guess. Wanted to see the king’s steed -"
“Don't call him that!”
“- something tells me you're not allowed in here either.”
“I'm not,” he admitted quietly, almost a broken whisper. Sleipnir whinnied, and Loki rested his chin on Sleipnir’s back.
“Great!” Fear clouded the prince's face. I never thought I would see that expression on the face of the man who had dismissed me so easily as a little girl. Truth be told, I hadn't given much thought to Loki during the century he was gone. Perhaps a bit after he didn't come back. “You don't say I was here, and I do the same. Were you where you wanted to be this last century?”
“I beg your pardon?”
I deflated. “You don't remember me, do you?” He blinked owlishly at me. Oh, for Odin's beard. Nobles⁴ . “Oh, forget it. I assume the unconscious guards are your doing? You should be more careful next time. It's pretty obvious something happened to them.”
“Oh, shit.”
Sleipnir gave a snort as the prince sprinted outside. I, in contrast, enjoyed my walk home.
~°•°~
A week later, for whatever reason, I was convinced that if I left that night for the stables, I would find Prince Loki back there. And I did.
The prince seemed to be shouting at a tree. No, I was pretty sure he was indeed shouting at the tree. Then, he was throwing his arms up in exasperation. I took a step back. The poor man was crazy and our last interaction had all been part of his madness.
Yup.
Sleipnir appeared out of thin air, it seemed to me, and the prince's frustration turned to cheering. He hugged his son by the neck and a second later was waving someone forward. I looked over my shoulder, but there was no one behind me.
“Aye, you,” he called.
He was talking to me. Why was he talking to me?
“Shouldn't you be worried someone will see you?” I called back.
The prince shook his head. “There's a bubble, for lack of a better word, encircling us. It does not allow anyone from the outside to see nor hear what happens within it.”
“I'm sorry to inform you, my prince, that I was perfectly able to see you shouting at a tree.”
I pointed at said tree, eyebrows raised.
He rolled his eyes at me, but I knew I was not more stupid than he was.
“First of all, I allowed you to see us -"
“Sure.”
“- second, don't be absurd -"
“I'm not absurd!”
“- third, I wasn't shouting at a tree.”
“What were you doing, then?”
“I'm helping Sleipnir with his skywalking. He's a natural, of course, but not too precise with his destination. He tends to end up a little farther away than he intended.”
Sleipnir gave him (his mother?) a push with his large head.
“And why am I being absurd, pray tell?”
He snorted. “Nobody goes around calling me things like ‘my prince.’ ”
“But I've heard people calling you that.”
“Well, yes. In front of my parents. Most call me whatever they like even in front of my brother.”
“Like?”
He smiled bemusedly. “Oh, you know: just Loki, Trickster, Liesmith, snake, spare.” He looked down at where Sleipnir was slipping away from his grasp. “Whore.”
I swallowed. Personally, I hadn't heard the last one before.
“Right. What should I call you?”
“Just Loki would be fine, if you're amenable.”
He opened his mouth, but before he had time to utter another word, I blurted out, “My father says you're a talented shapeshifter.”
That's what sparked my curiosity about Loki the most.
Loki's expression closed off. “I'm sorry, but I don't shapeshift anymore.”
“Since when?”
Sleipnir was inside his stable. It was just the two of us. This wasn't going down a nice road.
“Since Svaðilfari.”
With a wave of Loki's hand, the spell protecting us from sight came crashing down around us, a green dome collapsing to the ground. Loki stormed towards the palace, leaving me, a confused girl, in his wake.
Who had been Svaðilfari?
>°•°<
Váli asks about Loki often. I'm not sure what to tell him. I don’t want to make another mistake. I don’t want to tell my son that Loki isn't coming back because a part of me doesn't think that's right. I loathe it. Loki, in all his wistful ignorance, trained me to expect him to pop back in. Always. Somehow. Loki always comes back to us.
I guess I'm not as fun as Loki is. I can't come up with the most exciting, best bedtime stories ever. I don’t feel like chasing Váli around either. Loki's old (like, really old. I don't know how old, though. He never told me despite how much I poked him. Maybe that's why he knew so many stories), but he found the energy to play with Váli. I wish my son could play with children his age, but I gave up on that awhile ago.
I also wish Váli would stop asking about Loki. No, I don’t know when he's coming back, or if he's coming back, but I can't tell Váli that last part. Or that much about Loki in general. I don't know anything about Loki's life from before the horse incident. I usually take Váli to Frigga or Thor when he must absolutely know something about Loki before he dies of curiosity.
I wish I could tell Váli more.
>°•°<
It isn't my fault that I hadn't known that was the name of the smith’s horse. No-one ever bothered with the name of the horse that had apparently raped our prince. Later, I learnt that Loki preferred to not refer to it as such, but was that not what it was? My father, naturally, went on another tirade at the question, but I didn't dare ask anyone else. Much less Loki. I supposed that as long as I didn't mention that horse, or anything to do with horses except for what Sleipnir was doing at the moment, or shapeshifting, everything would be fine.
And, once more, I was right.
But, I did give Loki space for a week. Long enough that I thought I would die from the boredom aroused by every day that was filled with monotonous household chores as if we ever had visits anymore. I have never been one of those crazy people that would happily throw themselves at the feet of the nobles. Or the gods, as the nobles prefer to be called. It's rather silly, I think.
Once I returned to the stables under the secrecy that a nighttime visitation demanded, my unspoken arrangement with Loki began. I would join mother and son every other night. Sometimes watching their interactions silently, feeling like an intruder; other times being part of their little world, feeling safe enough to ask questions. I didn't know what I was doing, but I knew I wanted to keep it.
I can be like that sometimes, too.
I didn't know Loki well enough to judge his character, but there was a great difference between the man I remembered from my childhood, to whom I had admittedly only spoken to once, and the man now sleeping curled against his son's side. It was sweet. Bittersweet, now. What happened to him during the century I didn't see him? Or was the fact of being with his son what brought this change upon him?
Three months later, I thought I had my answer.
It was late afternoon and the dying light of the setting sun filtered in through my enchanted glass window in the colors of orange, pink, and purple. I was sitting at my window, sketching a butterfly. It was taking me more than it normally would. None came out to do errands at this time, but I couldn't stop myself from looking out the window, checking regularly for Loki. It was something that had been going on for a while. Ever since I met Loki and Sleipnir for the third time. Anyway, I knew he didn't visit the marketplace anymore, but I didn't stop hoping to see him.
So, when a tall man dressed in green and gold passed by on the street opposite mine, I told myself I was seeing things. I looked twice, though, just to make sure, and my heart leapt with joy. I threw my sketchbook to the bed, not caring where it landed, and ran down the stairs and out of the house. He was turning the corner, so not the market. Not what I had expected.
I ran up to him.
“My prince, wait!”
I cringed. He'd asked me to call him Loki, but it felt weird not using his title in front of other people. Wouldn't that be impertinent of me? As expected, Loki didn't look pleased, but he also didn't look like he recognized me. Weird.
“How may I be of service, my lady?”
That was even weirder. Loki had never been formal with me. On the contrary, I thought. Did the people muttering around us bother him that much? Should I leave? Was our friendship, flimsy thing that it was, restricted to the stables at night?
“Er, no. No, you can't be of, um, service. I mean, I do have something to ask you, but that's not why I…"
When I failed to continue, Loki teased, “What happened to the articulate little girl who asked why people hate me?”
“So you do remember me," I accused.
What an asshole.
Loki chuckled. “You're the only one who has ever asked me that.” His eyes narrowed as he watched the people muttering behind their hands. He waved for me to follow him. I knew that's what that hand motion meant, but the others didn't. The closer ones to us scurried off and the rest looked frightened. Dramatic, that's what I thought they were. “That's what happens when you're gone for a century,” Loki muttered to himself, obviously not meant for my ears, so I ignored it.
I remembered how when someone walked with Prince Thor, they kept some steps behind him, including Lady Sif, and even Loki. So, now that I was walking with Prince Loki, I thought I, too, should walk behind him. But he placed a hand on the small of my back instead, so I would walk beside him.
Loki was a strange man.
I hid my face, and the blush that had risen to it, to the best of my abilities, barely daring to venture out when the gentle rumble of his voice reached my ears. “What is it you wanted to ask me?”
“You're a weirdo, did you know that?” I asked, hoping my embarrassment wouldn't be obvious. I felt his eyes on me and saw the same funny look he'd given me when I crashed into his leg as a little girl.
Is that how he sees me? As a child?
I sure hoped not.
“Is that it?” I nodded. Slipping his hand away, he sighed. “Yes, I know. It's not the first time I hear that.” Loki muttered under his breath, “Nor the last, I'm sure.”
Was that meant for me this time?
I wasn't sure how, but I had made things awkward. Every step I took felt forced, and I was very much aware of the man walking next to me, of the heat radiating from him as his arms swung rhythmically. Like a person who wasn't trying to hide how flustered they felt. Mostly, Loki walked with his back straight and his chin up, as if he owned the ground he walked on, which I supposed he did. If I moved just a little to the right, my hand would brush against his, I remember thinking.
About to turn another corner, I realized neither of us had spoken again.
I cleared my throat, preparing myself to request something I hadn't even planned to ask for a minute ago.
“No, actually. I wanted to ask if you could teach me how to use seiðr.”
“You don't know how?”
He was scandalized. That was always a funny look on him. I liked it.
“Nope.”
“Just how young are you?”
Oh, Norns, what did that have to do with anything?
“For your information, I haven't learnt because my father didn't want me to,” I replied, offended. Everyone knew you didn't ask a lady's age. And I wasn't that young.
“And now he's alright with you learning? From me?” Loki questioned.
Well, of course not. If my father knew, he would try his damn best to throttle Loki. If not me first. He'd think I'd catch something.
“Why not? Aren't you the best in the Nine?”
“I'm sorry, did you hit your head?”
I shoved his shoulder. Loki didn't respond. Looking heavenward, he stopped a few steps ahead.
“Alright. On Tuesdays and Fridays, show this -" he handed me a piece of paper, where words began to appear when I touched it “- at the palace entrance and a guard will lead you to me.”
With a squeal, I threw herself at him into a hug. Slowly, extremely slowly and awkwardly, as tense as a plank, Loki returned the embrace with one arm, his other hand placed on a doorknob. I kissed his cheek in my excitement. His skin was soft beneath my lips. Letting go, I thanked him. I couldn't read his expression.
“If you're going to be my apprentice, I'm going to need your -"
“Sure. Whatever you need. See you on Tuesday!”
With a final wave of my hand, I ran off home before my father got there first. Soon enough, it would be something I found myself doing often.
~°•°~
My father was acting strange. Good. But strange.
Later that night, I was serving dinner when he came home from the tavern. He beamed when he saw me and walked straight towards me.
“My child.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “I'm so proud of you.”
I tried to get away when my father's eyes began to glisten, but his grip tightened on my shoulders.
“Father, are you -"
Are you drunk?
That's what I meant to ask. But he wouldn’t let me. He never allowed me to say it out loud. Maybe because my mother would have absolutely hated it.
“You could have been a Valkyrie, you know?” He hugged me. “You're a brave girl. I'm proud of you,” he said, brushing my hair.
I snuggled into the embrace. I couldn't recall the last time my father had been this affectionate towards me, much less the last time he expressed something akin to being proud of me. Not because we had a poor relationship, mind. We simply didn't see eye to eye on many things.
All thoughts of my father being intoxicated flew from my mind. At this moment, I was the little girl I hoped Loki didn't see me as.
>°•°<
I have never understood what's my father's problem with Loki. When I asked about anything related to Loki, my father would tell me the story of Asgard's wall as if it somehow explained everything. My father dislikes Loki without a doubt. I imagine that he does so even more now after Loki's latest actions and what they mean for Váli and me. What is it that my father feels for Loki? Hatred for leaving me and committing treason; disgust for Loki’s argr ways; resentment because my mother was denied treatment in the Healing Rooms and Loki could have, theoretically, changed that since anything involving seiðr is under Loki's division; and indignation at Loki's shamelessness. Those are my best guesses.
My father didn't want a man like Loki for me. I'm his only daughter. His only family. I don’t blame him, especially not after Loki left. I don't blame him for the disgust that Loki's use of seiðr arouses in him, either. The extent to which Loki broke the natural laws is gradually becoming common knowledge. I wish I could say I have no negative feelings towards Loki at the moment, but that would be a lie. However, I don't see what Loki could have done about my mother.
I suppose my father's issue is not so much with Loki per se, but with what Asgard's second prince has come to represent.
>°•°<
Tuesday was a rainy day and I was not too keen on going to the palace. It never rained in Asgard, not by natural means, and I could only guess what had Prince Thor in such a mood. But what if I didn't go and Loki changed his mind, thinking me irresponsible? I couldn't let that happen. And how many could say they had learnt from Loki himself?
None.
This was the opportunity of a lifetime.
When I arrived at the palace's entrance, a guard asked me to state my business. I showed him the paper Loki had given me, requesting to be taken to Prince Loki. The guards shared suspicious looks, which I ignored. Soon enough, I was taken to a circular sitting room. The walls were not short of being filled with books and trinkets. I had expected the furniture to be gilded, but it was made of a dark wood. The predominant colors were green and blue. Gold was used sparingly.
Not what I had expected from a noble.
“The prince will be with you shortly,” the guard said before disappearing through the door.
Waiting there was uncomfortable. Sitting down felt like intruding and standing up just felt stupid. I shifted on my feet. Perhaps I shouldn't have asked Loki to teach me seiðr. Anyone could teach me, really. What was I expecting to come out of this?
I was about to walk towards the door when an ice figurine of a woman caught my eye. How didn't it melt in the Asgardian heat? It was beautiful. What stood behind it looked distorted, but there was something in there that if I looked a little closer, I would make out its shape. I brought my hand up to touch it, and it began to glow a misty blue. Just a bit closer…
“Are you aware of what people are saying about you?”
I spun around, hands hidden behind my back, eyes wide. “Say what about who?”
Loki laughed, a hand motion making the chairs and table rearrange themselves against the wall. “They are saying you will be the lady to set me straight.”
Confused, I asked, “Set you straight?”
“Indeed.” The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement. “Any lady who dares say things to my face, they say, has the character to make me a ‘worthy man.’ To keep me in check, if you will.” He chuckled, as if the idea was inconceivably absurd. Yet here it was.
And my treacherous heart fluttered. I didn't see what was so amusingly stupid. What if I was that woman? I knew I could be.
I shook my head. Now, that was one serious stupid thought there. Loki was incorrigible, if rumors were to be believed, which they should be where Loki was concerned.
“Thor’s not too happy with the situation. I daresay it's because Mother's attention has been focused on me lately.” He jerked his thumb towards the space he'd cleared. “Shall we?”
I sat down cross-legged on the floor where he directed me, hands folded in my lap. “You won't laugh at me, right?” I asked nervously. “I'm clueless. I don't know anything. Swear you won't laugh. Don't nod. Swear it!”
Loki rolled his eyes. “Fine. I swear I won't laugh.”
I gave a dissatisfied huff but didn't speak as he mirrored my position on the floor. I knew that was the most I would get from him.
“A first person's use of seiðr is usually accidental. That is how they discover the gift. Girls are trained in the art while boys' seiðr is locked away.”
“So why wasn't yours?”
Loki's smile broadened. “Oh, they tried. They truly did.” He straightened his face. “Now, I need you to focus. I know you have the gift. It's obvious, but you're spectacularly oblivious to it.”
I turned scarlet and scratched the back of my head. We hadn't even started and I was already doing poorly.
“Your seiðr will not come naturally at first. You waited far too long to learn. You will need to make a conscious effort.”
“How do I do that?”
“You will need to become aware of it. I'm hoping meditation will help. It is easier to find when relaxed. With practice, you will be able to enter your mindscape.”
“And how do I know when I've found it?”
“You will feel an itch under your skin. That would be your seiðr combined with the sensation of this room's wards.”
“And my mindscape?”
Loki's mouth twitched. “You will know.”
>°•°<
That is probably one of the things I love about Loki the most. His facial tics. The way the corners of his mouth twitch as he tries not to smile when he wants to hide something from me. He succeeds most of the time, but I have been learning how to read him better these last years. I also love how his left eye twitches and his fingers spasm when I call him old. Loki likes to pretend it doesn't bother him that he’s ancient, but I know better now.
I wish Loki could come home soon. If there's something I desire more than one of Loki's true smiles, it is the gentle curve of his lips whenever his gaze falls upon Váli.