Well, this is my new story, and I'm very excited! Although I read Loki fanfic voraciously, I've only dabbled in one-shots and short stories up until now, but I am very much planning for this to be a saga of the epic (re: long) sort, so buckle in!
Ratings and tags etc. will change as the story progresses, but for now, I don't wish to give away too many details.
I hope you enjoy this little taster of a Prologue!
Prologue
Year 2149 in the reign of Odin Allfather, Protector of the Nine Realms.
The first time they met, Astrid was doing something her mother had counselled her not to.
Astrid was just a smidge over 500 years old, and still very much a child, so she tried to listen to her sweet mother's advice as much as possible.
Unfortunately, her magic didn't appreciate being told what to do by anyone. Least of all Astrid.
Seiðr was not unknown among the nobility, in fact, many of the learned people at the Mannaðrskáli argued that every Æsir possessed some degree of magic, even if they were never truly aware of it. Only mortals had no magical capabilities.
From speaking to her mother, Astrid knew that her grandfather had been gifted with a strong amount of seiðr, but his destiny had been to be a war general, and seiðr was frowned upon in the manly art of battle. To avoid the label of argr, he suppressed his magic and let it fade away as his life marched on.
Astrid wasn't going to let her seiðr fade away. She loved feeling special. The only problem was, as her mother explained, Astrid was perhaps a touch too special. None of the great sorcerers at the Mannaðrskáli appreciated being outdone by a mere chit of a child. When she had broken through her first tutor's protective shield and levitated him across the rooftops of the Capitol, word got around that she was unnaturally powerful, and her mother couldn't find her another tutor for Hel nor nigh water.
Astrid's magic, unconcerned with trivialities such as education and control, continued to strengthen with every passing decade, and it was fast demonstrating that it had a mind of its own. Her parents were concerned, but Astrid knew that, for all the trouble it liked to cause, her seiðr wasn't purposefully malicious, like that of some sorcerers in the chronicles. Her magic had more of a sense of humour, she liked to think. Unfortunately, it also had the strange, somewhat twisted sense of humour of its possessor, who had a peculiar fondness for watching people fall over and embarrass themselves.
She had snuck away from her mother's side to wander the vastness of the Royal Palace while her parents and other nobles drank and discussed boring adult things. Astrid had stumbled upon a servant with a pail of water almost immediately, and her seiðr flared to life. Darting into an alcove, she observed the servant as he passed; he looked of middling age and had a permanent frown on his brow. Perfect.
Astrid waited several seconds, then let the seiðr burst forth. The bucket defied any notion of gravity and suddenly spun upward in the man's hand, emptying onto the golden floor. The servant let out a cry of shock, and promptly slipped in the water and landed on his rear.
Astrid doubled over with laughter, trying to stifle her giggles. The man was uninjured, but he checked furtively around the hallway, as if expecting an audience. He pulled himself up and surveyed the mess on the floor, rolling his eyes. Astrid watched him walk away with the now empty bucket, feeling in far better spirits.
"That was childish," remarked a voice behind her.
Astrid almost jumped out of her skin. The hallway had been empty but for her and the servant. She hadn't heard any footsteps. She whirled round, expecting a scolding, only to find a young boy watching her with undisguised interest.
The boy looked to be around her age, although he was much taller and slimmer. His hair was raven black and glossy, and his skin was bone-white. His clothes were well-tailored and made in expensive fabrics; he was obviously of noble birth. No doubt his parents were also schmoozing at Court today, and he was as bored as she.
Astrid narrowed her eyes at the boy. "I am a child," she replied, slowly, as if speaking to a dolt. "And so are you, unless you are a dwarf-man."
The boy blinked at her a moment, his wide green eyes guileless. Then he laughed. "I'm not a dwarf. I'm even taller than my elder brother."
Astrid didn't know what to say to that. It was rare that she found herself tongue-tied. The boy continued to look at her with interest, his eyes lingering on her distinctive copper-coloured hair. Most Æsir had hair some shade of silver or gold, so red tones were a rarity. Black was unheard of. She wondered if the boy was half-Vanir, or perhaps-
"I've heard of you," the boy said, suddenly, his eyes widening with recognition.
Astrid tilted her chin up, a sign of bravery she didn't actually feel.
"Oh, yes?"
"You're the girl who levitated her vískenna across the city. I would've liked to have seen that. Bjorn was my tutor, once. He's a clot," the boy continued flippantly, unfazed by her prickly attitude. He grinned mischievously as he recalled her infamy, showing a set of white, even teeth and dimples. Astrid felt her cheeks glow pink.
"Well I don't know who you are," she said, loudly and obnoxiously. The boy grinned even wider.
"Yes, you do. Everyone knows who I am," the boy informed her, proudly. "I'm Prince Loki, son of Odin."
Astrid stopped mid-eye roll. Prince Loki?! She stared at the boy in shock. He continued to grin, enjoying her reaction. Astrid had glimpsed King Odin and Queen Frigga once at a festival, when she was very young. She had only seen them from a distance, and remembered that they were the epitome of Æsir: tall, golden and powerful. She had assumed the Princes would look just like their parents, but this boy was like a changeling. Still, she found herself believing him; he had a confidence and alertness that belied his years, a result of growing up knowing you have the very best of everything and that everyone around you is eager to do your bidding.
She was speaking to a member of the Royal Family, and she had insulted him! What would Mother say?
Blushing even more furiously than before, Astrid reluctantly forced her knees to bend into a shallow curtsy. Prince Loki just watched her with amusement.
"You're not very good at curtsying," he remarked, cheekily, and she longed to hit his stupid face.
"I'm still learning etiquette," she replied, sulkily. She hated etiquette lessons, she much preferred learning to ride her new horse, Hester . "I'm too young to be at Court, anyway."
"I can tell that you're still learning etiquette, you haven't even told me your name yet," he pointed out.
She glowered at him. "My name is Astrid Ǫrvardottir…uh, my prince." From the way Prince Loki smiled at that, she swore she'd never call him it again.
"So Astrid Ǫrvardottir, you have seiðr," he said, suddenly serious.
"Um…yes."
"Is that all you can do?" Prince Loki enquired, gesturing to the mess on the floor. Astrid felt her ears burn reddish.
"I can move objects, if that's what you mean. My mother tried to find me another tutor after Bjorn, but she said none would take me," Astrid explained, surprising herself in her desire to tell this to the Prince. She never knew whether to be ashamed or proud of what she had done to Bjorn. It had been an accident, really. He was so snooty and arrogant, her seiðr couldn't resist teaching him a lesson. "Do you have seiðr, too?" she asked, suddenly realising that his interest in her was unusual.
Prince Loki grinned and waved his left hand in the direction of the puddle on the floor. Green light poured from his palm, and then the water disappeared between the blink of one eye and the next. Astrid gasped, staring at the spot where it had been.
"How did you do that?" she breathed, unable to hide the wonder in her voice. Prince Loki simply grinned, and glanced back to where the water had been. Astrid's jaw almost fell from her head as she watched a small, purple flower bloom from the marble floor in a swirl of green light. She could ever do that; even being around already-existing plants was dangerous for her. They often went up in gold flames.
"How did you do that?" she repeated, quite intent on getting an answer this time. She wanted to be able to make flowers grow from nothing.
Prince Loki strolled over to the flower and plucked it from the floor. Astrid was shocked to realise it was corporeal. She had thought it an illusion.
"My mother taught me. She's the greatest sorceress in the World Tree, but she says I'm going to overtake her someday. Soon," Prince Loki said, unable to hide the pride in his voice. Astrid forgave him his arrogance. He was truly gifted.
"Would she teach me?" Astrid blurted out, without really considering what it was she was asking. Prince Loki's 'mother' was Frigga, the Queen of Asgard, after all. Astrid was only the daughter of a middling nobleman.
To his credit, Prince Loki didn't scorn her for her insolence. Instead, he looked thoughtful.
"I don't know about that. She's very busy, you see, and she couldn't tutor us together because I'm much more advanced…" She longed to hit him again. "…but I could teach you."
"You? Teach me?" She thought he was rather presumptuous, even for a Prince. He was only a child, like her, not a trained vískenna.
"Yes, why not? I know all the groundwork of practicing seiðr, and it would help me to strengthen the basics as I advance further. This plan aids us both," he explained, not deterred by the doubt in her tone.
"I…well, would we be allowed?" She asked, feeling a little foolish. She liked Prince Loki's plan, but she couldn't be sure if her parents would agree. Her father did work in the palace, though, so she would never be too far away from him.
Prince Loki shrugged. "I know I'll be allowed to. As to you, I can't say. But even if your parents tell you 'no', we can do it anyway. They don't have to know." A suggestion of mischief streaked across his delicate features at the thought of such subterfuge.
"They might notice if I disappear every day!"
"We won't have lessons every day. Practicing seiðr is exhausting, especially in the beginning. I'll be amazed if you manage a couple of hours each week."
Astrid glowered at the Prince, sensing that she was being called a weakling and a coward. She was too young and guileless to understand the art of manipulation.
"I say we meet at every moonshift, when the evenstar has risen," she declared, no longer concerned with getting her parent's permission.
"That's twice a week," Prince Loki pointed out, with a sly smile.
"I can handle it."
"Very well. We'll meet in the Lily Garden. I shall see you in two days, Astrid Ǫrvardottir," Prince Loki said, suddenly sounding very formal. He bowed slightly, handing the purple flower to Astrid, and disappeared before she could say a word.
She gripped the fine stem of the flower, feeling the pulses of the Prince's seiðr echoing through it. She stared at the spot where Prince Loki had vanished, mystified by what he could do.
"I'll be just as skilled as he…soon," she promised herself under her breath.
Astrid hurried back to the Great Hall, sure that her mother would have missed her. She stood obediently by her parents for the rest of the afternoon, contentedly twirling the flower between her fingers and looking forward to her first lesson with Prince Loki.