Chapter 1: The Illusion of Magic

"Am I cursed?" Loki asked his father with crimson-red eyes and skin the color of cerulean. His expression was one of horror and mystification.

"No. Put the casket down." Odin ordered as he waited for him to replace the Casket of Ancient Winters back on the stand. As soon as Loki removed his hands from the weapon, his skin returned to its normal alabaster coloring, his eyes its vibrant emerald.

"What am I?" The raven-haired prince stared at Odin, demanding answers.

"You are my son…" The withered king replied softly. Before he could continue, Loki interrupted him.

"What more than that?!" He probed as the truth materialized in his mind. In Odin's silence, Loki slowly saw the pieces lock in place.

"The Casket was not the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" Loki spat and narrowed his eyes on the man he called father.

"No." said Odin, unable to deny it now. He stared at his son with guilt in his eye, and began to explain the events that led up to him discovering Loki as an infant. As the truth became known, the young prince started to lose a grip on his emotions—anger, sadness, emptiness, and the sense of betrayal—all at once collided inside of him. His own father, his whole family, his entire life—was a lie. It was all too much to accept, he had to leave.

Odin desperately pleaded for him to understand. Sadly, he would hear none of it, for the truth was nearly inconceivable, yet made so much sense. The years of never feeling equal to Thor, never truly considered for the throne of Asgard, and never earning his father's approval, suddenly became clear why. As Loki marched out of the trophy room, the king attempted to halt him.

"Listen to me!" He called out to his deeply wounded son. However, the weight of the guilt overcame Odin, and he succumbed to the Odinsleep. In his shocked state, Loki somehow managed to force himself to Odin's side on the marble floor.

"Guards!" With the look of pain and anguish on his face, Loki cried out for help.

As the guards stormed in and immediately took the comatose king to the palace healers, Loki remained on the cold steps for a while. His thoughts darted from one troubled notion to the next. Because I am the monster parents tell their children about at night.

Just as he was about to open his eyes, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was the only person he could confide in, his little sister.

"Loki, mother needs you. Please, come…" she said with sadness in her eyes.

"Father is in Odinsleep. I am already aware." He stated with a weak voice, unable to sound angry anymore. She sat beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"What will we do now?" She asked solemnly and took his hand. He squeezed it firmly in his. As he battled himself internally on whether or not to tell her about his true origins, a terrifying thought crossed his mind: Will she fear me? Will this destroy our bond?

"Well, you should see to the morale of the palace. Soon, they all will look to our family for reassurance. We must be strong, no matter what." Loki pressed a kiss to her hair and rose with her. As she went to speak with the servants, Loki made his way to his parents' bedchamber to confront his mother with the truth.


In a world far beyond the fabric of time and space, lies a grand kingdom ruled by a wise king, Odin, and noble queen, Frigga. The kingdom was known as Asgard, one of the Nine Realms. He was battle-hardened, powerful, and kind. She was beautiful, graceful, and strong. Together, their love bore a child, a son they named Thor. He possessed eyes of striking blue and hair of gold. Thor was a happy baby, always cooing and giggling, which garnered the love of all who met him.

It was only a little over a year later that the queen was with child again. Gods of Asgard had similar gestational periods to humans of Midgard—nine months. They grew and aged at the same rate until they reached adulthood, but their lifespan stretched for thousands of years. Though one would believe a god to be immortal, Asgardians did grow old and eventually, die; it simply took much longer. In contrast, the Light Elves of Alfheim aged even slower—an elf was not considered to be an adult for several hundred years. The only known immortals were beings who lived before all, and had yet to pass on.

Frigga, being early in her first trimester, waited for the king to return from a great battle. Odin had taken nearly his entire army to the frozen lands of Jotunheim—a desolate place of constant winter. There, lived a terrifying race of beings; standing twice the height of an Asgardian, with dark blue skin that was tough as tree bark, and eyes as red as blood. The Frost Giants, ruled by King Laufey, was consumed by power-lust and sought to overtake other realms. If it were not for the brave actions of thousands of Asgardian warriors, our worlds may be a very different place than it is today.

In the midst of battle, King Odin would be rendered scarred. He received a blow to his face that destroyed the sight of one eye. He was lucky, however, as many gods perished that day. All of the fallen soldiers did not give their lives in vain—the war was finally over and Laufey had lost. It was bitterly cold, but the blizzards of Jotunheim could not dampen the Asgardians' spirits. They confiscated the powerful weapon that the Frost Giants had planned to unleash on the realms. King Odin sent the bulk of his militia home with the Casket of Ancient Winters, while a handful remained to scout the land with him.

In his search of the Jotunheim stronghold, he came upon a crying baby, locked away in a remote chamber. The infant was oddly small for a Frost Giant, he thought. Reaching down, the lonely cries ceased from the little babe. Odin knew the child was special—as he gazed upon its tiny form, its eyes changed from crimson to a vibrant green; its blue skin faded to a pale, soft pink. There were a select few gods who possessed the ability to shape-shift from the cradle—like a chameleon. It was a survival instinct that would prevent creatures from killing it. Pity took over Odin as he stared into the watery eyes of the baby. He could only reason that Laufey was ashamed of the child's size and locked it away from sight. He brushed a large, callused finger against the baby's soft cheek. It only peered up at Odin, unblinking.

He made up his mind. He would take the child and raise it as his own. Surely, a worthy adversary's kin would one day unite the two realms, he believed. He gently lifted the baby from its icy crib and began his journey back to Asgard.


"Well, it seems that our family will be expanding more than originally thought." Frigga's voice was joyful as she held the small baby in her arms, still wrapped in ragged fabric. Looking to Odin, one eye now covered by a patch, she saw the other eye light up with excitement.

"This calls for a celebration, indeed. I am the luckiest king in all the realms! Not only can Asgard sleep soundly tonight, but I am to be a father of three soon!" He bellowed merrily. Frigga laughed with an elegance unmatched by all the maidens of Asgard. She then slowly placed the baby into a golden crib.

"Indeed, dear husband. How old do you suppose the child is?" She began to undress the baby and change its coverings into something warmer.

"I would say less than a year younger than Thor, so roughly several months." The king remarked his best guess as he stepped next to her.

"It's a boy…" Frigga spoke tenderly as she looked over the infant. Odin smirked slightly, the wise creases of his wrinkles formed at the corners of his mouth.

"He fooled me. Not only did he conceal his true form before me, but I would have thought such a delicate babe to be a girl." Odin chuckled and placed a hand on the small of Frigga's back. They both looked down at the infant, who only stared back with curiosity. She had dressed him in the softest textiles in Asgard, in shades of rich green, to match his sparkling emerald eyes.

"Yes, he is quite a beautiful baby, truly. What shall we name him?" Frigga began to smile wide.

"Loki. We shall call him Loki, for he is a little trickster." Odin exclaimed with confidence. She nodded and placed her warm hand over Loki's tiny chest.

"Our Loki." She cooed. If only they knew then just how appropriate the name would be for him.

Unlike Thor, Loki never laughed or squealed with delight. He would only ever smile when Frigga sang to him, or when she used her magic to make objects vanish and reappear. However, Loki would cry. He cried an awful lot, in fact. Whenever Frigga or Odin left his side while he was awake, Loki wailed and coughed and whimpered until one of them returned. It became apparent that the poor child suffered from extreme separation anxiety. Nevertheless, they could not be with Loki at all hours of the day. As the months passed, he slowly found some independence in his solitude, and cried less for his parents. Frigga usually kept him close, but as her belly grew with the pregnancy, she found it difficult to tend to Loki as often.

Thor was only several months older than his younger brother, but his temperament allowed for others to care for him. He did not solely depend on his parents for attention; he was jovial most of the time and received care from multiple servants. When Loki was placed by his side, Thor would playfully grab at him, which often led to Loki becoming upset. Thor was the epitome of a bouncing baby—he crawled everywhere and would fall or collide with objects regularly. Loki, on the other hand, found contentment in remaining in one spot with a few toys.


The day came when Frigga went into labor, and her screams could be heard throughout the palace. It frightened Loki, now a toddler, as his wobbly legs took him to her bedside. The servants had tried to remove him from the chamber, but he protested greatly. Loki was determined to protect his mother from harm. His tiny hands gripped at her arm, urging Frigga to cease her howls of pain. When she looked upon his small, pale face, she knew he was in need of comfort. However, as she lay there, covered in sweat, Frigga could only choke back her cries.

"Little one, please join your father and brother. I will be alright." She forced a smile at Loki. It was not customary for men to be present at the birth of a child, as it was not appropriate for a woman to be on the battlefield.

"Mama…" He spoke for the first time. The queen's heart swelled with pride at his first word recognizing her as his mother. A genuine smile wore on her glistening face. Loki stared into her eyes with the maturity of an old soul. Another wave of contractions hit her and she yelped, squeezing her eyes shut. The dark-haired little boy hid his face in her arm, standing on his tiptoes.

With a long, final push, Frigga's mouth opened to silent screams. When the sounds of a baby's cry rang to everyone's ears, she collapsed back into the bed and panted. Loki's head immediately shot up, and looked in the direction of the tiny voice. The maids huddled together, wiping the newborn vigorously, and wrapping it in white linen.

"A girl! We have a princess!" One of the older women squealed with excitement as she handed the baby to Frigga. Loki tilted his head to the side in awe.

"Oh, yes, yes, she is." The queen mused sleepily. Though she was thoroughly exhausted, her motherly instincts took over as she sat up and received the crying babe.

"Loki, you have a sister. Isn't she beautiful?" Frigga said as she held her. Loki quickly crawled onto the bed and leaned in close. As he stared at the strange looking creature, its cries slowly stopped. He thought it must be sleeping, as its eyes were closed. With his curiosity besting him, he reached out to touch it. Though his hands were little, the newborn's hand was almost half the size of his own. He felt like a giant in comparison, having never seen a being smaller than him. As the baby felt his cool touch, she wrapped her delicate fingers around two of his. Loki's eyes widened in surprise, and a smile grew on his lips.


The king and queen had expected another son, so they were ill-prepared to name her. As the evening turned into night, Odin deliberated in a chair by the bed while Frigga slept. Thor and Loki both stood watch by the crib of their new little sister. It was a sight to see—one boy with golden hair and sapphire eyes standing beside a boy with raven-black hair and emerald eyes. Thor giggled every time the newborn moved or cooed. Loki merely smiled as he observed the sleeping girl. Their father chuckled.

"My sons, come here." He beckoned with his hand. The two toddlers went to him; he lifted each one up and sat them on his knees.

"What do you think of the name Brigora?" Odin proposed with amusement in his eyes. Thor covered his mouth with both hands and snickered. Loki grimaced at the name.

"Alright, how about Mallir? Princess Mallir has a ring to it." Odin smirked at his sons. They both looked at one another and shook their heads dramatically.

"Nooooo!" Thor whined with a grin, believing his father was teasing. Odin chuckled again.

"Fine, fine. Perhaps Cerys is more fitting?" The king watched their expressions for approval.

"Cerys…" Loki repeated, surprising Odin. He tilted his chin to the boys as Thor giggled with delight to hear his brother speak.

"Well, then it is done. Princess Cerys it shall be." Odin stated happily.


**Cerys is pronounced like the leading part of Sarah, followed by the ending in hiss (sair-iss).

I do hope you enjoyed this. Depending on how the feedback is, it may or may not continue. Share your thoughts :)