Baldur hid in the shadows the garden, the spell of invisibility wrapped tightly around himself. Not three feet away stood Father and Mother, repairing a broken bee box. From an open door wafted the hesitant strains of a harp. A note was missed and the music stopped. A low rumble came, followed by a high, girlish giggle.

"Fandral has to charm everyone," remarked Father, "even eight year old girls."

"He dotes on Joan," replied Mother. "I keep telling him he's going to spoil her."

"If 'Uncle' Fandral wasn't going to do it, someone would."

"Thor might, if he weren't so upset. Any word from Jane?"

"I visited her this morning on Midgard. She has no wish to return."

Mother tied off a knot harder than necessary. "I know for a fact Frigga explained to her that she would be Queen of Asgard one day and that it wasn't a position easily left."

"Well, I know the nobles heaved a sigh of relief and made their proposal all the more appealing to Thor."

"Damn the nobles."

Baldur blinked. He had never heard his mother swear before.

Father smiled at her, leaning forward to kiss her just below the ear. "You're just angry at what's been decided."

"He's too young, Loki."

"I was introduced at Court at twelve and Thor was beginning to be groomed for the throne from that age as well. And he has a little over a month to get ready and to get used to the idea."

"Twelve isn't old enough."

"It is on Asgard." He smiled. "Why don't we ask him? Baldur, you can come out now."

With a sigh, Baldur released the spell and came forward into the light. "How did you know, Father?"

"I'm your father. I know everything."

"Baldur," chided Mother, "you shouldn't eavesdrop. If I hear of you doing that, I'll have you helping the stablemaster. Again."

"I don't know. I think he must like horses, as often as he gets sent there."

Baldur made a face. "I don't like horses. They smell."

Mother and Father smiled. Father said, "So you heard everything that was said a moment ago."

"Yes, sir."

"What do you think?"

"Of what? Of being presented at Court?"

"More than that." Father set aside his tools and knelt down so he could look his son in the eye. "As you know, Queen Jane never bore a child. And now she's gone off to Midgard, swearing she'll never return. Asgard has gone too long without an heir. You are the nearest male relative-"

"No. That's not true. You're Uncle Thor's brother."

"Do not interrupt. And there are reasons why I can't be named heir."

"What kind of reasons?"

"Reasons that aren't important right now. But what's important is that you are going to be named Uncle Thor's heir at your presentation."

Baldur stared at his father. "Me?"

"Yes. It's a very big responsibility and it won't be many years before you'll be named King. And over those years, you'll be taught how to be a good, wise King. I know you've been taught etiquette and all that, but over the next month, you'll be getting daily lessons. I want you to focus on your lessons. No mischief, whatsoever."

Mother snorted. Father gave her a look before turning back to Baldur. "If I hear from your taskmasters that you have shirked your duty, or played some trick, you will answer to me. Do you understand?"

Mother had Baldur do menial tasks, like wash the floors or clean the stables, whenever he was caught doing something he shouldn't. The last time Father assigned a punishment, he spent all day in the nearby forest searching for an herb that he learned later didn't exist.

"You're scaring him, darling," said Mother.

"Are you frightened, Baldur?" he asked.

"No, sir," the boy replied. "I won't let you down, Father."

"Good." Loki stood. "Now, I saw the guards' children playing earlier, in the meadow. Why don't you join them?"

The meadow was adjacent to the practice rings behind the Palace. The last time Baldur had gone there, the boys thought it would be good sport to throw pine cones at him, which he turned into swallows. The boys went running back to their fathers, crying that strange little Baldur was casting spells at them. He hadn't returned to the meadow since.

"Yes, Father," he said. Turning he walked out, but instead of the meadows, he went to the great Palace library. Finding a book on transmutation, he sat at the window and began to read.

OoOoOoO

After he had gone, Sigrid said, "You know he isn't going to the meadow."

"I know." He picked up a small screwdriver and began working at the loose side. "But I feel like I should encourage him."

"The children refuse to play with him ever since he learned his first spell."

"It couldn't be helped. It was either teach him magic or clean up broken shards of whatever breakable thing he was standing near when he threw a tantrum."

"Joan hasn't shown any inclinations."

"She may be a late bloomer." He smiled at her. "You were." He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the cheek. "Remember when you blasted your cousin across the garden? I wish I had been there to see that."

"I could have killed her."

"It would have saved us a lot of trouble later."

"Loki." She wiggled out of his arm.

"What? It's a practical thought."

She shot him a look as she went back to her fixing the torn side of the box. Loki tried not to sigh. When he returned to Asgard nearly twelve years ago, things were strained between them. It was obvious forgiving him was hard for Sigrid, for her temperament was inclined to keeping grudges. Over time, their relationship warmed, but she still felt distant to him. It didn't help, he supposed, that on some nights he stood on the balcony to stare at the stars, picking out Jotunheim from the clusters of constellations. He tried to do it when she was sleeping but no one could hide something from Sigrid Sigynsdotter for very long.

"We need to find him a friend," said Sigrid, breaking his reverie.

"Baldur is very much like me. He won't make friends easily, even if he was accepted. And though I think making him the heir is the right thing to do, it's only going to isolate him more."

"I wish I had had another son."

He grinned, taking her back up in his arms. "We could try again." He raised his brows before leaning down to kiss along her neck and Sigrid laughed. Her laughter, so rare now, danced along his heartstrings and, for a brief moment, his longing for Jotunheim lifted a little and things were as they once had been...before.

OoOoOoO

"Jormungr, you return this instant!"

But he ignored his father and ran from the throne room, down the halls and up the stairs, flying to his mother's chambers. His mother and her maids looked up from sewing robes.

"Whatever is the matter, child?" Mother asked.

"Mother, I can't do it! And he won't make me!"

"Everyone, leave us."

The maids left, the door swinging shut behind them. Mother gestured for him to sit next to her. He did, snuggling into her side.

"You must be talking about being officially named his heir," she said.

"Not really. I don't mind that. It's what I have to do that day that I don't want to do."

"A Jotun King is a dispenser of justice. It is only right for you to execute a prisoner upon your naming day, so that you may feel the consequences of judging a person guilty."

"My weaponsmaster doesn't like it."

"Your weaponsmaster already treads shaky ground with your father. I think it would be best if you didn't spread news of his opinion." She wrapped her arm around her son and hugged him close. "I know it seems like a horrid thing, but it would be over with quickly. And you'll never have to do it again."

They were silent for a short time. Finally, Jormungr said, "I ran out of the throne room. He will be looking to punish me. Mother, why does Father hate me so much?" He looked up at her.

A deep sadness filled her face. "When you are older, I will tell you."

"I'm to be a man in a few months. Will you tell me then?"

"Perhaps. But so much will be happening that day, that I may wait a while."

"That's fine. As long as you tell me."

She smiled at him and kissed his forehead. "Now, run along. If your Father comes looking for you, I didn't see you."

"Thank you, Mother."

He jumped down out of the chair (for he was shorter than he should have been and his feet swung off the floor no matter what chair he sat in) and ran out of the room, going the back way to the library. As he swung the door shut, a scroll fell from a tall pile to the floor. He scooped it up, intending to send it flying back to its place, when he recognized the handwriting of the title.

It was a scroll written by his father and was simply entitled "A Short Treatise on the Ways". Jormungr was trained in magic like any child, and though his proficiency exceeded everyone's expectations, he was still forced to learn at their pace. He had never heard of "the Ways".

Unrolling the scroll, he began to read.