Amethystine
Folderol (n.): Trivial or nonsensical fuss.
"Loki!"
Weight sunk one side of his bed eliciting an intensely irritated groan as one whining, unwelcomed little girl clambered into his personal space. Dark air confronted his sight when he opened his tired eyes. Nothing else seemed to exist aside from his crippling need for sleep. And his freshly cleaned sheets were ever so inviting. So he did what any other teenager would in his position and rolled over.
But the thick down pillow couldn't muffle out her high-pitched whines.
Rather than acknowledge the annoyance, Loki tried to pretend he was sleeping for as long as possible until heat seeped through his blanket in the shape of a small hand, hissing and burning. Burning flesh smelled disturbingly similar to meat on a grill. First thoughts were of his wonderful smelling sheets, if he didn't end this nonsense soon he would have to have his linens washed. Again. Then he might be stuck those plebeian cashmere blankets. Again.
"Please help Loki." A squeaky little voice choked through pitiful tears, "It hurts."
Loki squeezed his eyes tightly, hoping she would disappear. The itch was back. He wanted to commit homicide. At this hour, who in their right mind could truly blame him?
Fed up with the pathetic, half scalded child disturbing his once peaceful slumber, Loki took a deep breath to keep from inhaling anymore of her toxic air and turned to the other side in one graceless movement as his feet tangled in the sheets, binding his legs together uncomfortably. It was impossibly dark, so he batted his hand around like a game of whack-a-mole until the hissing was replaced with a high pitched squeal. Loki retracted the hand instantly.
"Are you okay?"
Silence.
"Loki?"
Volla's arm, which hooked over the side of a pillow, burned the hell out of his hand. And her voice was anything but helpful as he nursed it. It was the exact opposite of helpful, actually. And by 'nursing' of course it meant sucking on the burned part of his thumb like an infant. At least the pain succeeded in waking him fully. He glanced around bleary eyed until he saw the time projected on the ceiling.
04:48.
Too early to even pretend he cared about anything but his blistering palm. Too early to deal with any of this, especially a wretched little girl with thermoregulation issues.
The tiny ball of sweat and pajamas scooted closer, encroaching on the space designated for peaceful sleep. Loki groaned and held his hands out to halt the invading force, careful not to mistakenly touch her skin again.
How, one might ask, did a prince end up permanent babysitter to a fire demon? Well, it goes a little something like this…
...
"Look at the eyes on that one!"
A blonde boy snickered, jabbing his friend with an elbow as he lifted a broken panel of heavy mahogany. Two of the other boys, feeble as it may be, tried to hide their own wicked grins as they crowded the tiny opening like moths to lamplight.
The meaning of the word 'forbidden' was lost on Thor, Volstagg and Frandral.
Beyond the small opening were crystalline waters. They cascaded over iridescent tiles where they fell in a spiraling pattern until halted by a massive grated drain at the room's center. Bubbles and droplets skittered across the surface to escape the rush of water that materialized in the air above.
Ladies of every age and sort giggled and gossiped with one another about who did what after which festival and what the queen's latest hobby happened to be, all loud enough to drown out the muffled snickers from behind a pair of massive paneled doors.
A young girl with long, straight black hair sleek as oil strode from the back end of the misty setting and into view of the young delinquents.
"Eww!"
"Is that?"
"Of course not!"
"I-I think it could be!"
Three bickered, pushing and scrambling in front of their peephole to get a better look.
The girl's posture suddenly jolted pin straight and turned her head slowly toward the culprits.
Caught!
Frandral slapped the panel back into place and shuffled backwards on his hands and butt. Volstagg could probably say he was looking for a snack and got lost in the ladies bathhouse. It was the glutton's go-to excuse, and it would probably work.
Frandral had long plagued the fairer sex, even before he was old enough to speak. He would absolutely catch the blame for this little game even though it was Thor's idea in the first place.
The blonde prince smiled devilishly at his skittish friends, almost condescendingly, but too lighthearted to be taken negatively.
That was always the way with Thor.
He lifted the panel and spied with one eye through the crack, tongue poking out from between his lips out of concentration, only to find their alarm unfounded. "Lady Sif was simply surprised by her friends." The others didn't understand how he could seem so utterly unfazed.
Volstagg grunted to hold in a yelp when Frandral climbed over his head, pushing it down with one hand as he eagerly peeped through.
Sif's back was now not only covered by a soft white towel but was also surrounded by a bouquet of friends, laughing about all kinds of lady-like things for sure.
"Who is that?" A soft voice asked from behind the trio. But no one paid the speaker any mind.
Normally Loki stayed away from their misadventures but ever since Thor began training, the younger prince rarely saw his brother. He was too young to join him at the arena, and he wasn't overly upset by that fact. The other boys were weary of bringing the youngster along, but Thor insisted. And one does not simply argue with Thor Odinson.
"Lady Sif?" Frandral said, answering Loki after a few moments. "She is one of the only girls in history to train for the army. Seems she has quite a fondness for our dear Thor."
Loki's eyes whipped to his brother's back so fast they pulled his head with them.
Thor ducked to hide the spreading blush across his cheeks. "Has not!"
"Has too!"
"Begging for a fight are you?"
The two boys argued back and forth while Loki tried not to get involved, feeling his own impatience toward the situation growing. Obviously he knew who Sif was. He was attempting to point out the foreigner who walked in circles just down the hall, casting a glance at them every few minutes. She appeared to be waiting for someone, pacing with nervous velocity.
Volstagg ignored the arguing boys and pulled a bag of red berries seemingly out of thin air and began munching without a care of the threats that flew over his head.
An ominous shadow crept over their huddled little selves and Loki paled. He would recognize that shadow anywhere.
"Princes!"
The deep, bellowing voice of a distraught middle-aged woman boomed through the hall, vibrating the air with its unfaltering command. "Such behavior is unbecoming of royalty and young gentlemen! Your father will be very disappointed in you."
Verdant eyes watched from the shade of dark lashes, first eyeing up his brother who stood up from his place next to the door defiantly and folded his arms as he stared up at the woman who dared lecture a future king. Loki glanced to the foreigner down the hall who tacitly observed the scene with newly inspired interest. She then began a slow amble in their direction.
Loki squirmed in his skin. To be scolded before a stranger was a mortifying prospect. He ducked back behind Thor, silently begging his big brother to just accept responsibility. The older boy faced the lady above them with a cheeky smirk.
She wore thick and scratchy sand colored skirts and a red shawl with intricate gold metal weaving along its trim in the shapes and shades of autumn that turned harsh with reds and orange when she was in the right light. Like right now as she began her tirade.
She was their nanny, Gefjune.
"…and as for you, Thor…"
A sinfully broad smile drew over Thor's lips, Gefjune's assault faltered briefly, perhaps not long enough for anyone else to notice, but Loki knew their battle was won. Gefjune could rave all day, but all Thor ever needed was a smile. It was every living person's kryptonite, even Loki's at times.
To his right, where their friends once were, was just empty space. They must have bolted when Thor's distracting smile gave them a chance. Loki used the back of his brother's deep red shirt wishing he'd done the same.
Gefjune went on, far more calmly, about how they lacked the morality of a king and how Asgard was in trouble if either took the throne.
"… You are to apologize to your mother at once—"
"Excuse me."
The interruption was deceivingly commanding as it was veiled with quiet demure. The foreigner did not have a deep tone, yet the words sounded heavy with an accent none had heard before. Her calm voice held enough gusto to halt Gefjune's chastising words mid speech. The larger, older woman turned slowly with reprimanding words hanging off of her tongue, finger held up in front for emphasis.
Large, koi fish scales shuttered and sparked with opaline light along the foreigner's jawline, up to the sides of exotic amethyst eyes. The scaled woman straightened. She was gilded in bright clothing of all colors; every which way the light struck caused the waves of fabric to ripple a new color. Fire seemed to explode sparks across the stitches. A hijab of the same fabric wrapped tightly over her head to hide her hair and ears, leaving only the face of a strange looking woman with serpentine eyes and long, thin lips that seemed to crease a little too far to the sides of her face, nearly hooking all the way up to her ears.
Broad Gefjune turned with an appraising eye. Thor and Loki both felt their bravery wane.
The younger woman bit the corner of her lip ("Were those fangs?" Thor hissed over his shoulder. Loki shrugged, wide eyed.). The woman's slit pupils dilated at their stares. Both boys took a cautious step back.
"I am to meet with Queen Frigga, her grace." She continued in her cumbersome accent. It sounded unnatural for her to speak English, like she had rocks or marbles in her cheeks that only let her speak through the very front of her lips. The way she pronounced 'with' sounded more like 'wheat' and 'excuse' was more like 'excooz'. Loki absently wondered what her native tongue might sound like.
A lilt of recognition bounced Gefjune's features from offended at the interruption to unadulterated exuberance. "Oh!"
The older woman bowed her head with rushed reverence, allowing Loki time to measure whether or not they had enough time to run away.
They didn't.
"Queen Saule! Of course!" Gefjune held her hand out to the side to introduce the boys, and to halt any intention of escape. She twitched her thick, sausagey fingers at the two boys, urging them closer to the terrifying stranger.
"These are Her Majesty's children." She introduced with a smile. "Thor," she placed a hand on the blonde's shoulder. He smiled gallantly up at Saule who looked thoroughly unimpressed, if not somewhat disturbed. Gefjune nodded slowly with a withering smile and placed a finger to her lips to keep Thor from further compromising a very delicate situation.
"And Loki." Gefjune, maintained a large fake smile throughout the introduction. "They are this realm's, ehm," her face twisted into a fake smile, "Exhilarating future." Doomed was the first word that came to mind.
Saule shifted her weight, rotating a small gold package from one hip to the other, sizing the two boys up with deep-set eyes. Her brow ridge protruded significantly, causing her huge, round eyes to sink deeper into her skull.
Noting the anxious tightness of the motion, Loki tried to stand on his toes to look more closely at what she held, curiosity getting the better of him. Thor grabbed the back of his collar, wrenching him back. Queen Saule shot the boy a warning glance, narrowing those reptilian eyes sharply.
Loki stumbled backwards.
She had no eyelashes! Only black, snake like scales around the rims of her eyes. Saule's black eyebrows, which Loki also realized were simply darkened skin, lifted nervously. She shifted the bundle back to the other hip, then crouched to look into his eyes. Expression tight, movement slow and measured the whole way down.
"Hello Thor, Loki." She held out a surprisingly large hand, armored with a metal woven glove, to Loki intimidatingly. But he was busy trying not to laugh at how she said 'hall-oo'.
Thor snatched at the hand first, his lurching arm smushed across Loki's face. He side-glared at his overzealous brother.
Lady Saule maintained her appearance of indifference though she found the way the two brothers interacted entertaining. She noted how impossibly blue Thor's eyes were under the squint of a true smile. The fade of freckles dashed over the bridge of his nose leaving a mischievous little prints across his face. Her critical gaze turned when the smaller brother shoved Thor away.
She gave the younger boy her hand and he took it with a gentler grip than his brother and shook it properly without once looking up at her eyes. Instead his downcast eyes fixated on the glove she wore. Saule wondered what could possibly interest him more than the face of a Muspelheim dragon.
Then, pain.
It shot through every muscle fiber. Wrist, forearm, and elbow, then through the deep inner shoulder, it was unceasing. Hot lightning traced up blindingly white until it danced over the nerves of her scalp, freezing the small muscles of her face, rippling painfully, undulating beneath the surface.
Saule ripped her hand from the little boy's grasp and a dull look overcame her, nearly toppling to the ground before catching herself on Gefjune's wrist. The typically rock solid nanny seemed at a loss for words gaping like a fish as she saved the foreigner from collapsing like a pyramid of marbles.
The glove on Saule's hand slipped down a few millimeters; just enough to see tough, white scales lining her wrist. The scales were so clear and shiny, like oil over a puddle after a sun shower. Loki needed to touch them.
Loki fell hard on his backside and scrambled back until he hit his brother's shins. The accusing gaze of Gefjune was enough to make Loki want to hide forever. The searing pain on the snake-lady's expression made his heart ache.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" He apologized repeatedly. But Gefjune was already leading her away. Queen Saule's head turned over her shoulder. This wide, horrified expression jostled with each step she took. Loki felt terrible. He never had a knack for making a good first impression. Not like his brother.
Loki was the kind of person to grow on you over time, like moss. Or like fungus. Watching Saule's fiery skirt flutter into the closing door of the other room made, feeling Thor's disapproving eyes on the back of his head, Loki feel like a parasitic blight on the tree of Yggdrasil.
...
Bustling tan gowns and fluttering medical magic filled the room that once contained King Buri's endless trunks. Dusty cabinets, trunks and papers were replaced with a crib, changing table and a vanity. Each was a shade of the abandoned infant's violet eyes. This little room needed to be perfect. It was Odin's only rule that the girl stay hidden until she could prove herself harmless.
The hustle and bustle of maids flurried out the door until all that remained was the quiet, soft breathing of a newborn baby. Alone with her at long last, Frigga held the small dragon close. Her bright, striated violet eyes were wide and probing as though she comprehended everything that transpired.
Frigga rocked back and forth, gently swaying to keep the baby calm. Heat seeped through the white blanket swaddled around her until the temperature grew prickly against the queen's forearms. Frigga's first instinct was to cool her. She opened the blanket and blew cool air on her head.
Garbled cries, louder than a screaming banshee, wracked from the little thing, piercing the walls, and the queen's skull. Frigga sighed at her silliness.
Her name was Volla, and she was the last prophetess of Muspelheim. Of course she would be too warm by Asgardian standards. Frigga pressed a gloved thumb to the infant's wrinkled brow. She gave out weak, strangled cries. This was good news. The poor little thing was lethargic and grey when she arrived at their gates. Being a half breed, Muspel dragon and Asgardian, the air in her mother's realm was toxic for her.
A few shushes and a freshly warmed bottle and the little thing calmed right down.
What would she tell her sons? As per Odin's newly established agreement, Frigga conceded that Volla should be raised separately so the boys would be safe from the dangerous seven pound squirming monster. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't introduce them when the time was right.
…
"… As the universe divided into the nine realms, the great Tree of Life uncovered a creature latched to its roots. Yggdrasil sprouted a new branch, shooting and whipping about violently until furling tightly around the leg of the retreating dragon. The monster unfurled his great fiery wings, released his obsidian teeth from the tree's body. In one mighty breath, legendary Níðhöggr ignited the Midgardian sun. The explosion of fire sparked the overlay of darkness. This new branch birthed Muspelheim. As punishment to Níðhöggr, Muspelheim was born without its key life source."
The auburn queen looked to her little son with a waning smile, turning the page again quickly. He squirmed excitedly as Frigga told this particular story in her own words, lowering the book slightly to her lap to steal Loki's attention away from the false writings. Odin liked to rewrite history however he liked. Frigga would not lie to her boys any more than she already had to.
Green eyes leaped to hers as she spoke. She smoothed a thumb over the soft curve of his cheek. "You see, Loki, Muspelheim's atmosphere is not made up of oxygen like ours. Dragons use oxygen to ignite their flames, but their race was punished for the first born dragon's foolishness. Somehow they managed, through many, many millennia, to steal the element from other realms." A pause. Frigga smiled slowly. It was hard to keep from kissing her boy when he looked at her like that. She explained further, "This way they can expel the accumulation of toxic gasses in their bodies by igniting their brilliant fires. This deadly mechanism of survival is exactly why you will never see a dragon in Asgard."
Thor, on the floor, snickered at the word 'gasses'. The queen shot him a look. He bit his lips together with a smile, but his shoulders shook laughingly as he turned his back and dropped to the floor, butt first, playing with wooden soldiers to willfully ignore their history lesson. Little boys are such a tough crowd.
Frigga knew better than to try and force Thor to learn, she was better off teaching a bowl of soup to do the can-can.
From the corner of her eye, Frigga noticed the way Loki's eyes darted from her face to the book in her hands. He liked to feign illiteracy so she would read to him at night. It was poor form to encourage such deceitfulness, but what harm would it do? Odin felt she doted on them and that it would lead to an "unhealthy attachment" as he called it. She liked to call it "being a good mother."
She smiled at her little boy, smoothing fingers over his rounded cherub cheek. Large green eyes blinked up at her with the unmistakable expression of innocent adoration. Impatience glittered in his gaze, easily mistaken as humor, but mothers always know the slim variations in their children's most minute features.
Frigga continued the story. Her voice careful, billowing, and as whimsical as an actor in a stage performance. "Centuries passed and the race of dragons infiltrated not only Asgard, Alfheim and Vanaheim, but also the defenseless Midgard." Frigga smoothed back the unruly black curls on her younger son's head as his eyes widened, excited and enthralled. Smiling at the child in the crook of her arm. Frigga mused at her luck. Blessed with two perfect sons so close in age. And yet, it would be an undertaking to find two more unalike.
Her little rogue was Loki. He was smaller than Thor at the same age, but, he reached his developmental milestones far more rapidly. He had been reading on his own for years now, while Thor still struggled with pronunciations much of the time.
Thor was simpler to occupy. He enjoyed his little spot on the floor, playing with his toys, bothering no one. Frigga realized the particular toys he currently employed were marked with green stickers. Frigga felt her face drop like a cannonball, a weary smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
Oh, the horror!
Thor cut the bindings of Loki's favorite book with a knife Odin gave him, Frigga would be sure to confiscate it later and remind his father that he was still just a boy. No weapons were allowed until puberty.
Before Loki could throw a fit of gargantuan proportions, Frigga rushed back into the story with artful inconspicuousness. "This new realm was called Muspelheim— home to monstrous dragons and fire demons!" Frigga watched with a knot in her stomach as Loki's wandering eyes flicked toward his brother then back to the book without noticing the damage.
Phew. Crisis averted.
"Deep in the throws of war, Asgard pushed them back to their own realm." She turned the brittle page gingerly as not to damage something so ancient. Loki almost turned his head toward Thor who was now whining about being bored with books and 'useless knowledge'.
Frigga jostled Loki slightly to regain his attention, shooting the elder a look. He stopped instantly with a sheepish grin that fell into a pout when she looked away, thinking she could no longer see. Keeping both entertained was like herding cats.
"In order to keep some of their strength, the monsters stole something Asgard could never hope to reclaim. Not without initiating yet another great war." A ringlet of curly auburn hair bounced over one of the queen's eyes as she turned the page, tickling her cheek before she could brush it away.
On the floor, Thor was impatiently pulling Loki's foot hard enough to make Loki sink through the crook of Frigga's arm like a yolk through a cracked shell. Tolerant little Loki expertly ignored his brother and resituated himself by using Thor's face as a stepping stool and pressing elbows into Frigga's hip and forearm. Fixated on the cover of the book Loki first scrunched his face with consternation, then looked up at his mother with round green orbs full of wonder. Her heart melted and her look of alarm melded into a smile.
He had these eyebrows which lent him an expression of perpetual concern that seemed eager to display itself as he fidgeted a under her arm to look up at her with small lines crinkling his pale forehead. "What did the dragon steal?" He asked.
Frigga's smile wavered.
She never had this kind of dialogue with Thor at this age. He had been far more interested in wrestling and making friends. He was the son that Odin couldn't help but adore.
Loki worried his father desperately. But Frigga knew better than to worry about the little boy. Loki; he was a finer, more reclusive sort. He cared too much of what others might think if they learned of his affinity toward magic. Magic is considered a woman's proclivity in Asgard. So, instead he preferred to surround himself with things of value rather than people of value. Mostly he hoarded his books and chemistry sets to feed an insatiable hunger for knowledge. A natural Philomath.
Behind the collected, wise façade of her poker face was a mad house. She tried to conjure just the right way to word her answer. Frigga always tried to blur the line between the truth and Odin's revisionist history. Many times this caused a recoil that the wisest queens would wish to avoid. But not Frigga. Frigga actively sought confrontation in her marriage. Intellectual debate is the spice of life, after all.
Her mind spun wildly as Loki searched her expression for an answer.
It was not fair to say the Lord of Dragons had stolen Aušrinė. Níðhöggr could be a highly reasonable creature. He was calculating and logical to a fault. And yet, even as he battled his race's obliteration in four other realms, he chose to take Aušrinė back to Muspelheim. The prophetess had gone unwillingly, according to historical records. The Asgardian woman was even fabled to have produced a child with the Lord of Fire.
Frigga certainly did not want to delve into the strangeness of love with her son who was still too small to swing a sword.
An easy smile pulled at her lips. She admired her inquisitive little boy as she recounted history resolutely the way she recollected the event without breaking her husband's rules.
"He stole Asgard's sight."
…
Like her younger son, the obsession started when Volla was very, very small. Still small enough to fit in the crook of Frigga's elbow. Each day she brought Volla stories, ones Thor unsuccessfully used to bludgeon his brother (because who needs literature, right?) and others that Loki already finished. Many were fiction, fairy tales, things that Loki had long outgrown.
Then, after some time, Volla began reading to Frigga.
Why did Hook try to kill Peter Pan? Was Peter Pan the angel of death? How could a prince really fall in love with a princess so fast? Did they ultimately get divorced? Were they allowed? Why did the prince have to slay the dragon? Was the creature was acting on instinct?
Volla one day received something Frigga never thought she could, or would, read. The book that started it all was "The Prince" by Machiavelli.
From there, Volla's questions grew in depth and persistence. How should a prince act? Who decides what is 'right' or 'wrong'? What happens if your opinion of 'right' differs from everyone else's? Does that make you a bad ruler? A bad person? Does it make you evil? What is evil? Is there such thing as free will? If so, why can't I go outside and play in the sun with the other little girls?
Volla hungered for these types of introspective stories and Frigga was forced to find them to keep her satiated in her tower above the courtyard.
Books that Midgardians saw as fiction, but were just thinly veiled stories of revolution got Volla thinking. She enjoyed that— thinking. Stories like "Uncle Tom's Cabin" or textbooks about Midgardian culture, particularly the cruelties committed against their own people. Etic anthropological studies, mostly.
She found historical records of war intriguing. Then, when those books were worn and falling apart, her obsession moved on to the ancient practice of Suttee, or, the propensity of widows to throw themselves on their husbands' funeral pyres. These were the stories she devoured with her eyes, morbid as they were. There were days when she would read in her garden window from the moment she woke until the second her eyes drooped closed, taking in as much information as possible. Without real interactions, she was forced to learn how one was meant to act through books.
One day, while reading, she slunk to the floor, curling in on herself then passed out. Her skin boiled into shiny white blisters that burst with steam once they grew too large.
The smell that filled the tower was what made the queen panic. It was an inorganic scent, like a chemistry experiment gone terribly wrong. After scrambling up the stairs, Frigga managed to cool the little child enough before she could run to the Healing Room and drop her in an ice bath. Volla was quartered off in the intensive care section of the healing ward for over a month.
Attacks like these happened infrequently in the beginning, once per year at most.
But as time swept by Volla grew and these attacks increased in frequency and intensity, taking her like demons flooding her veins, thrashing and burning their way through blistered flesh and blackened marks about her entire body. At times, it would burn the honey colored waves clear off of her head.
Each attack was punctuated by numinous visions. At first they were superficial and vague, but as the pain increased, so did the clarity. Soon they were images of future events that no one had any business knowing. It seemed that the more she divined, the more painful visions she had to endure.
It was Frigga who realized what was causing the visions to occur. It was her skin. She tried her best to protect the little girl from Odin. But she could only do so much. He would have her brought to the throne room each morning to test her. Each time her fits grew worse, her visions more clear.
Frigga realized this was far beyond her control. She could not let Volla continue screaming her visions aloud, though Odin compelled her to do so. It could jeopardize family secrets. Instead, the queen asked her to try and take hold of the visions, to write them down so they could go through them together and try to keep them in order.
Molten lava surged through her skull, wrapping and suctioning around her brain until encased in a hard shell of searing rock. The rock, as hot as it was, condensed and cracked about her mind shattering it into endless fractals of images. Images of so many things she could hardly keep up with them. They flashed behind her eyes bitingly fast, tearing at her optic nerve with their edges with unrelenting violence only matched by the visuals.
Fire exploded into a vast black void, ripping over Asgard and all other realms, black and crumbling like burning pastries falling in on themselves. Another cutting image showed two young men fighting each other; one falls to his demise. Thousands of others followed, each more painful and disturbing than the last. She tried to keep up, to keep from saying every word aloud like Frigga told her not to, but to keep the images inside was too hard. Her hand scribbled pictures and words in a schizophrenic mess across her journal as she attempted to keep up with the onslaught of visions.
When the images stopped, Volla dropped to her knees. Then pitched face first into the hard tile floor. Frigga rushed to her.
All of this appeared just because King Odin touched her hand.
Volla tried to retain some shred of composure as sweat slugged down her temple until it caught in her mussed curls. Her grip on consciousness was failing. It put up a good fight but the little girl was worn and exhausted. Blackness overcame her, then she was suddenly sleeping. Frigga was exhausted. She used an unbelievable amount of magic and medical attention to keep Volla from dying each day. It was growing out of hand. Volla's little half-Asgardian body was not meant to sustain toxic Muspel blood. Frigga knew there was one, very simple way to cool the burn and lower her body temperature, though she was sure her son would not like it.
…
Artificial light glowed pink through Volla's eyelids. The pain in her head was so much, especially under such harsh lighting. Horrible scenes danced demonically through her mind. These prophesies were all far too much to expect from a little girl who ought to be playing with dolls, not foreseeing the violent end of all things.
Arctic ice flooded her boiling blood. It was sweet relief. Violet eyes lurched open only to squeeze shut immediately. The light was too much. Volla only caught a glimpse of what loomed above, but she was sure it was a hallucination.
Volla had seen him from time to time through her window.
Ice cold air prickled her skin. It just was enough to make her shiver. One eye opened just a slit so Loki wouldn't see her looking at him.
He noticed. He grimaced.
"From this day forward you will watch after her. I can only do so much to ease the burns. You have such an aptitude with this magic." Volla could hear Frigga speaking softly, in her most boastful way.
Small heart racing, Volla unabashedly stared at the pair of spindly hands floating over her. The pair of them were the size of her whole torso, she felt incredibly small and vulnerable.
Loki's gaze dropped to Volla. Her eyes filled with excitement and wonder, his with bored reluctance and instant loathing.
Frigga watched the small, concerning interaction. What would she do if this failed? What if Loki lost his temper? He had very little experience with children. What if he grew inattentive, what if Volla became afflicted and—No! Frigga refused to think of Loki as inattentive. He was always quite the opposite.
The queen saw the twinkle in Volla's eye; she knew the little girl would follow Loki around like a shadow whether he liked it or not. He would have no choice but to pay attention to her, however reluctantly. But, desperate times had come to desperate measures.
A/N: Heyo, I hope you guys dig my story. Yes, Volla will grow up, and soon. I promise, and it'll be fabulous when she does. Please review! I'm always so nervous posting new things and reviews usually inspire me to keep going. This whole story is already written, I just have to edit and post. Thanks for the read, I hope you enjoy the ride!
