Chapter 2: The Golden Apple

One dance would serve for now. She had considered staying with him, forging the iron while it was still hot but Thor was merely lukewarm. He had danced with her to win, not to win her over. He was not a boy who loved with his eyes, as her father had predicted. Thor had barely glanced at her at first, in contrast to Fandral. She had to ward the latter one off. A little competition was fine, too much would spoil her plans. Thor liked being flattered, though not too obviously. He liked to boast of his prowess in battle, he liked to drink and sing bawdy songs. He was a warrior, a friend, not a lover. She would need to feign interest in his fighting skill. She would need to practise her admiring looks, her awe-struck voice, and most of all her tolerance of mead. She would win his trust and she intended to be deserving of it, despite everything. She was here on her father's orders but she would play this game according to her own rules and she found it easier to look at her reflection in the looking glass when she was not completely false. The crown prince was a good man. Not perfect for her, but he did not deserve to be so thoroughly deceived. Thor Odinson would perhaps never love her but she would charm him enough to lure him into marriage. Freyja did not doubt that he would be a kind husband and she would make a caring and tolerant wife that didn't mind his extramarital affairs. There were worse fates. And she would bring him the throne he desired so, so he couldn't complain, either.

Yet she couldn't stop the tears from seeping into her pillow in the dark and the tightness in her chest did not subside. It seemed as if she had traded one gilded cage for another. Her gaolers were kinder, perhaps, and more handsome, but she was trapped all the same by her fear of spreading her wings.

Loki. She would try to find out whether there were others, more trustworthy wielders of magic before she would resort to asking him. Judging by her limited contact with him, his knowledge would not come cheap. The thought of learning magic calmed her down. She was helpless now, perhaps, but soon she would do something about it. Soon she would acquire the skills necessary to finally break free.

Even when she fell into a fitful sleep, however, she couldn't shake off the fear that she had no skill for magic, that she was trapped forever. Disturbing dreams made for a restless night and when a maid woke her in the morning, she was torn between relief and regret. The night was finally over but her body ached and her mind was numb, just when she had to join the queen to break her fast and needed her wits about her.

The Queen was already at table.

"Lady Freyja," she smiled. "I'm so glad you could join me this early."

"I'm honoured, Your Majesty."

Frigga patted the chair next to her.

"Now, we can finally chat a little," she said kindly. "Eggs?"

Freyja forced down some food while the Queen needled her about her upbringing, her father, Sessrumnir. The questions were well-put, subtle and never obtrusive but became more and more detailed as their meal progressed.

"Your father never knew about Lady Sif's skill with a sword, then?" she asked.

"My father was always very preoccupied. We saw little of him when we were children," she said hesitantly, "he did not know the extent of Sif's passion."

"But you did?" the queen asked. It was exceedingly clever to test her attachment this way. Whom would Freyja be loyal to if push came to shove? Her father or her sister, and thereby Thor?

"I did."

"The whole of Asgard was taken by surprise when she joined the army, apart from you it seems."

"And Prince Thor, as far as I'm aware."

"Of course," Frigga said and a warm smile had stolen onto her face. "Thor was always very supportive of your sister."

"And I am very grateful."

"You have no interest in sword fighting?"

"I find it fascinating to watch," she said, aware of the consequences of her words, "It is an art. Yet, for my own sake as well as for everyone else's, the only pointy object I should hold is a sewing needle."

Frigga rewarded her words with a smile. "There's no shame in that. Do you enjoy sewing?"

This time, she replied truthfully. "I prefer reading, or walking in the garden or calligraphy. And I enjoy embroidery more than sewing."

"An artist, then?" Frigga rose from her chair and dropped her napkin onto the table. "Let us give you the opportunity to enjoy yourself then, Freyja."

She led her into her private reception chamber that overlooked the Asgardian Sea. The terrace seemed to stretch out right to the edge of the cliff.

"A beautiful view, isn't it? I had it painted a few times but the copy was never as good as the original, so I moved my chair instead."

And what a chair it was, inlaid with gold and moonstones, boasting upholstered arm rests and cushioned with velvet. Frigga sat in it casually, in the manner of someone who was so used to the luxury around her she didn't see how fortunate she was. Almost carelessly did she

Then she rang a little bell.

"My other ladies will be grateful to you, you have earned them a few more hours in bed," she smiled.

The first lady came only mere minutes later, leaving Freyja to suspect that she had waited outside in the corridor. By and by, the other ladies in waiting entered and took their seats in the room, some picking up needlework or books or parchment and charcoal sticks.

They had their quiet routine, it seemed, and most of them greeted her kindly when Frigga introduced her to them. There were only three further maidens her age: Astrid, the daughter of the Queen's evidently favourite lady in waiting, Revna, and two sisters who looked like each other's reflections and were introduced as Helga and Sigrun. Why they were allowed to serve the Queen at this young age, Freyja had not found out yet.

"Now, Freyja, there is a Midgardian book I am very fond of at the moment. I hope you will like it as well. If you would be so kind as to read to me? It lies there on the table."

Freyja picked up the leatherbound book. It was light as a feather.

The double doors opened once again and she pitied the poor lady that had overslept but it was Prince Loki who entered.

"Mother," he gave her a quick nod. "You wanted to see me?"

"Over an hour ago, I think," she said with a smile and Freyja wondered why the Queen had called for her son before their breakfast. "It is not like you to sleep in."

"I didn't," he replied stiffly but offered no other explanation.

Freyja still stood in the middle of the room, book in hand, and looked at the prince furtively. There could be no greater contrast between him and his brother. Everything about him was dark and enigmatic, from his secretive smiles to his fluid movements. He was almost as tall as his brother, but less broad, clad in a fine green tunic and dark leather breeches. Thor always wore his breastplate. Freyja wondered whether he slept in it, too. Where Thor was loud, Loki was quiet although he did not seem shy. Subtle was the word, perhaps, as subtle as a prince clad in bright green and gold with a horned helmet and a penchant for drama could be, of course. There was a calculating calmth about him, in the manner of someone who sat back in his armchair to observe the unfolding of events before deciding on a course of action. Thor on the other hand was a course of action himself. She had to be careful with the trickster. He was perceptive. He could very well ruin everything for her.

"Lady Freyja is so kind to read to us," Frigga said. "Sit down here, child," she motioned towards an upholstered stool not far from her seat. "You can start on the very first page," the queen said as she settled into her throne and picked up her needlework.

"Loki, sit with me for a moment."

The prince obeyed, though she thought she saw a flicker of annoyance dart over his face.

Freyja opened the book and started reading.

"Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit

Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste

Brought Death into the World, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us, and regain the blissful Seat…"

Freyja had practised reading and singing since she was a little girl but this Midgardian book was challenging. The print was very weak and ill-aligned, some letters much lighter than others. To her great shame, she understood very little of what she was reading. What was man's disobedience? And why would someone forbid a tree?

It all seemed very strange and jumbled.

"Thank you, Freyja," Frigga said. "Did you like it?"

She felt her cheeks redden. "I admit I understand only very little. If there is a tree of knowledge on Midgard, why are the Midgardians not further developed as a race?"

Loki chuckled and she found it sounded rather patronising.

"I understand your confusion," Frigga said, her eyes still on her embroidery frame. "Loki, you know so much about these Midgardian books. Why don't you help Lady Freyja?"

Freyja did not like being demoted to his pupil already and neither did Loki seem particularly interested in explaining Midgardian literature to her.

"Well, this is a complex work and draws inspiration from several religions. It is not easily summarised but I can try."

"Please," she said, perhaps a little sharply, "Do not trouble yourself on my account."

But as little as Loki wanted to explain Midgard to her, it seemed he wanted to drop the subject even less, at least not on her initiative.

"The tree of knowledge stands in a garden the Midgardians call paradise or Eden. It is not a real place but a place in a very popular book that forms the basis of a Midgardian religion. In this book, the first two Midgardians live in paradise which has been created by God –"

"By which God?" she asked, eager to show that she knew the Midgardians had several deities.

"In this book, this religion, there is only one God." Loki said, slightly impatient. "As I said, they live in this garden and their God tells them that they can do as they please but they may not eat fruit from the tree."

Why would anyone plant a tree no one was allowed to eat from? But she had a feeling Loki didn't like being interrupted, so she kept her thoughts to herself.

"The Midgardian woman, tempted by a snake, convinced her mate that they should eat from the tree of knowledge. They do and see themselves naked as they are. God then casts them out of Eden for their disobedience." He fell silent.

"It must be a lowly God that fears autonomy. And why would he plant the tree? Only to lure them out of his own creation? To test their loyalty? Is blind and foolish loyalty appreciated on Midgard?"

Freyja looked only at Loki and did not see the way Frigga smiled at her needlework.

The prince inclined his head reluctantly in agreement. "Autonomy seems to be regarded as something dangerous."

"But isn't that, my pardons, rather preposterous? True admiration can only be borne out of autonomous beliefs, it cannot be dictated. Loyalty can only be chosen, never demanded."

He was no longer slumping in his chair. His long legs were still stretched out but he leant forward to her, creasing his doublet.

"That might be so. Yet, people crave the power of knowledge without truly understanding what they have gained. They want to wield a sword that is too heavy for them to cut others' heads off. They are punished for this arrogance."

He was no longer talking only about Midgardians but Freyja was not done yet.

"So what is their punishment?" she asked. "For their disobedience to their God?"

"Hard labour and pain. Shame of their nakedness. A life of toil," he considered her for a moment. "Would you have eaten then, if you value autonomy over comfort?"

She weighed her arguments. "How is the garden like?"

"A world without flaw. Their every desire is satisfied."

"Every desire but one," she said. "If I knew nothing of the tree's power, I might not be tempted to eat. Yet, I would wonder why it was forbidden. Sooner or later, I would give in to curiosity."

He smiled as if he had expected her reply. "And what if the tree had been poisoned?"

"I think there comes a point where curiosity outweighs fear." She had never reached that point yet herself, coward that she was.

"I think one could call that foolishness." His grin was very smug and she wished she could wipe it off with a sniding remark. But Loki was no foolish boy, he was clever and far better educated than she was.

"Or bravery," she insisted stubbornly.

"Two sides of the same coin," he chuckled. "But tell me, Lady Freyja, you say the tree brings you autonomy. Why?" His tone made it very clear he disagreed but she would not be intimidated into silence.

"Knowledge is independence, isn't it? And power." At least the sort of knowledge she wanted him to teach her although he of course had no clue about her hidden agenda. Well, her second hidden agenda, he probably guessed the first.

"Knowledge might be power, or it might just show you the way to power, but independence? No. Do you not simply transfer your dependence from one god to another? Do you not depend on the tree then, as it gives you the knowledge you so crave? Do you not depend on it to serve you the truth? If the tree lied, how would you tell? Dependent on trusting a higher power once again."

He did have a point but she was reluctant to concede. It would mean that she would transfer her dependence from her father, to Thor, to Loki in the course of less than a month. She'd much rather think of it as seizing power over her own fate.

"As I understand knowledge, it cannot be given, only acquired. So while you are right in that I choose to transfer my dependence, this God gave the Midgardians all they needed but from the tree, they have to take knowledge. They have to acquire it. Therefore, I would be more independent if I chose the tree over the god."

"Isn't that in itself the greatest conundrum? Independence is never absolute, yet its definition does not allow any limitation." He had raised a hand and rested his chin on it, his thumb pressed against his jaw. He looked intrigued. And Freyja had to admit that he was right. She was just about to throw all caution to the wind and jump from independence to power to see where that would go when the doors banged open.

"There you are," Thor grinned at her with inadequate familiarity. "Didn't Sif's message reach you last night?"

"I must have been asleep already, my prince." She cursed her page boy for being so unreliable. He should have returned in the morning. No doubt he was still sleeping it off.

"Well, now I found you. Come with us to the training yard. Fandral is determined to win against me. It will be hilarious."

When she looked uncertainly at the queen, Thor beamed at his mother.

"Beg your pardon, mother."

Frigga smiled at her elder son, then turned to Freyja.

"You are of course excused, Lady Freyja, if you wish to watch the training," she said softly but Frejya couldn't shake the feeling that she was slightly displeased. Loki's expression was unfathomable. He was probably glad that their discussion had ended now. He hadn't wanted to be here in the first place. And she truly knew nothing about Midgardian culture. Her father had never been particularly interested in them, so the library had yielded little about that realm. A part of her longed to stay, to coax more out of the second son but no one let Thor wait, so she rose from her seat and smoothed out her skirts. Had she known she'd meet the Queen's son here, she would have chosen a more flattering, less modest dress.

"Thank you, Your Majesty. Your Highness," she curtsied in their direction and then followed Thor out of the room.

Loki breathed very evenly. Lady Freyja had proven a little less dull than expected, although she was not half as knowledgeable as he was, of course. He doubted she was enthusiastic about the training yard but she had not objected at all. Had she found their discussion boring? Overwhelming, probably.

He felt his mother's eyes on him.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, so that her attendants would not hear them.

"An interesting conversation. I had never given the tree much thought. I'm glad to know that your hours of study pay off."

"Well, Midgard is not the most complex of realms," he said disparagingly but he was grateful for the compliment.

"I think Lady Freyja was rather impressed. As are some other ladies present, I would say."

One of the twins, he could never remember their names, looked at him furtively. He shrugged.

"Their opinion does not concern me."

"Of course not. I do not want to keep you any longer. Will you join the others in training?"

"You know I train better alone," he said. "But why did you call me in the first place?"

"Before Lady Freyja came, I had wanted you to read," the queen lied smoothly. Loki nodded, ignorant of his mother's intentions but not entirely without his suspicions.

"Well, you have a substitute now." He bowed slightly and kissed his mother on the cheek.

"I'll see you at dinner."

Loki withdrew to his chambers to train on his own but he was not as concentrated as usual. The song of steel rang up from the courtyard, mingled with laughter and Thor's voice. It didn't hurt any more that he didn't truly belong with them. Well, it hurt a lot less nowadays. Loki was better on his own anyway. He had achieved almost absolute independence. He needed no one. And that would be his greatest asset.

"Truly impressive," he heard Lady Freyja purr. "It seems I must not be afraid for you, my prince."

Thor laughed. "Why would you be afraid for me?"

"You are Asgard's golden prince. I would be devastated to see you hurt."

"Then I have even more to fight for," Thor chuckled, clearly fancying himself charming. "For I would loathe to sadden you."

"You might just sadden her soon enough, Thor, if you don't let off the sweet talk and get back to practising," said Fandral and Loki noticed a sharpness in his voice that was probably lost on his brother.

"I'm always good enough to best you, Fandral," Thor laughed. A jape, not meant to hurt. The way they talked among one another. But Loki leant against the wall next to the open window, smiling. It was certainly not her intention to sow discontent but Loki would be there to reap the fruit of her labour.

Soon enough he heard the sound of clashing steel again. He risked a glance from the window. Fandral and Thor were laughing again as they fought to gain the upper hand. Freyja stood on the side, feigning interest very convincingly. Sif and the remaining two warriors were fighting, too, Each with one arm tied onto their backs but Sif seemed to lack concentration today.

That was something else he might be able to use. Freyja seemed to be unaware of her sister's feelings but Loki wondered how this knowledge would affect her. Pitting them against each other would perhaps not work but he'd come up with a plan. He always did. Thor would not sit on his throne, that much he knew.