Chapter 3: The Tree Of Knowledge

Naturally, Odin called for his sons only a few days after Freyja's arrival at court. How could Thor not see that he was set up? Did he simply not care? Was he aware that all it took to win the throne was to marry that girl? It was difficult to believe Thor had indeed not noticed, yet, if he had, he would refuse to so much as look at Freyja Sigurdsdottir again, simply to prove once and for all that he made his own choices. Justified, perhaps. Foolish, certainly. Yet perfectly predictable and therefore fine with Loki. And if their father continued to be so blatantly obvious, even Thor would discover the scheme.

After a few remarks about a seething conflict in Vanaheim and a possible rebellion they had to be prepared for, which served as a distracting pretext, their father got straight to the point.

"Frigga tells me you have shown interest in a young maiden in her service, Thor?"

Never in all his life had Odin shown this kind of interest in Loki's lovers. Well, yes, perhaps most of his affairs had been short-lived and sometimes rather secretive, and none of his partners had been as illustrious as Thor's would-be queen, but that was the price one paid if one was too discreet. Thor, on the other hand, was probably incapable of even spelling the word. Too impatient, Loki thought with some amusement, he'd have lost interest after the 'c'.

"You find that amusing?" Odin asked his second son, misinterpreting Loki's expression. Now that he was addressed, he couldn't resist causing a little mischief.

"Why, yes. You say she is in service to mother when, quite clearly, she serves only –"

"Enough, you." Loki was always impressed by the expressiveness of his father's gaze. Usually, one would think one eye fewer would halven the power of his glare. That would be a wrong assumption.

"Now, Thor," he said now, stressing his elder son's name and turning his back on Loki, "I'm quite glad you've taken a liking to her. She's an accomplished lady."

Loki scoffed, although very quietly. What was his father even playing at? He knew how Thor would react if he found out about the setup, surely? How could he be so obvious? Or did he simply expect Thor to adhere to his father's wishes? Did Odin intend to tempt him with the throne? How would Thor react to such an offer? It unsettled him to find that he didn't know.

"Yes," said Thor, absent-mindedly. He never enjoyed this part of conversations with his father. He was a young man still and there were battles waiting. He had a lot of time to find himself a wife. And yes, perhaps it would be Sif's sister but that was years and years in the future. First, he had to prove himself, first, he wanted to fight his share of wars and win his share of glory, and then he'd find himself a wife. But his father expected more than a simple affirmative so he wracked his brain for something nice to say about Lady Freyja.

"She is...pretty."

The king scoffed. "She is more than that, I would say. She is intelligent, I heard. Learned. She reads a lot. Her manners are excellent, her bearing is impeccable and she is both modest and kind."

"Her father told you all that?" Loki asked slyly.

"You," his father looked at him angrily. "You know nothing about these matters. Boys you are, the two of you, even after all this time. Yet, only a man can rule."

There, the elephant in the room was finally addressed.

"And you think a wife will make me a man, father?" Thor weighed his hammer in his right hand. "Let me fight again. Let me prove I am a man already, worthy of the title Prince of Asgard."

Odin looked at him carefully. "I think a man would take a wife instead of spending his days with his friends, playing in the tiltyard and drinking."

Thor squared his shoulders which was usually an intimidating move , only that it didn't impress their father at all. "We are training!" Now, even Loki heard how much his brother sounded like a young boy, insisting that his games were important.

It never took long for this conversation to turn heated, Loki knew. A small part of him enjoyed watching them quarrel.

"Training," Odin spat out. "You are childish, both of you."

"Father," Loki started, ready to insist that he was the more grown up brother, that he was ready to rule, but his father raised a hand.

"Enough of this." He rubbed his eye. "I'll see you tonight at the feast. Go and train then."

The two brothers stormed out of the king's reception hall, both convinced they had been wronged more.

"He doesn't insist you take a wife," Thor complained.

A part of Loki wished he would. A part of Loki wished very much that his father would shout at him for being a boy still, would shout at him to behave more responsibly. Strangely, not being shouted at made him feel left out.

"Because he does not want to make me king one day." Loki knew it was the truth but occasionally, even he had to refrain from lying. Sometimes, the truth hurt so much that he longed to be comforted. He would have liked Thor to object, insisting that their father was simply not giving Loki such a hard time because he was more controlled. He would love him for it, for a simple gesture of kindness, of unity against their father. Loved him more. But Thor didn't, of course, too preoccupied with himself to notice his brother's momentary sensitivity.

"You think he'll make me king when I marry her?" he asked, suddenly changed.

This would be the moment to find how his brother would react to the prospect of a throne bought with a woman but Loki's fear outweighed his curiosity by a lot.

"I highly doubt it," he lied. "He wants you to be more mature. You know what he asks for, Thor. Less drinking, less practising with your friends. More tending to matters of state, more lessons on politics and history."

"Lessons? I am not a schoolboy to be lectured anymore," Thor boomed. His pride was more fragile than their mother's figurine collection and Loki had learned to use this to his advantage. Clearly, their father was right. Considering how often this trick had succeeded, Thor really had to learn a lot.

"I know that, brother. I don't agree with Father. You are a mighty warrior already, the Asgardians admire you." That last sentence was true once again and it stung.

"So it is, brother. I have nothing to prove anymore. No woman can make me more man than I am."

"Just so," Loki agreed readily. If Thor was in such a bad mood, he might just vent his anger on the precious Lady Freyja and Loki hoped very much she was just as sensitive as most of the other ladies at court were.

"I'm off to the yard," Thor said sullenly.

"Be courteous to Lady Freyja, though," Loki warned him, a little patronisingly. It would rile Thor up. "You know how highly Mother and Father think of her."

Thor only grunted in response, eloquent as he was, and Loki was certain he had meddled enough which in turn lifted his spirits so much that he decided to train with his brother and his friends. He could keep an eye on the developments that way, too.

And he was rewarded indeed. Thor didn't pay Freyja attention at all, so focussed was he on besting his friends, and Loki, too. With all the might of his anger about their father and his constant nagging, Thor was fearsome to behold. His hammer was not only the perfect choice of weapon, Loki thought with a smile, it was also a perfect metaphor for its wielder. Powerful, surely, and mighty, of great origins and a greater destiny, but also blunt and unrefined. Not that it somehow lessened Thor's triumph over everyone one of them but it made him feel a little better about his own defeat.

~o~

Thor had been intrigued by Freyja at first but today in the training yard, he found her lacking. Sure, she was always smiling and he liked the way she looked at him when he told her of the battles he'd won but she had none of the fervour her sister had. If Sif was a wild horse, Freyja was a well-trained filly in the manége.

She was pretty, Thor allowed, though by far not pretty enough to warrant the endless praise of his father who seemed to know no other topic but his friend's younger daughter. And yes, she was evidently well-read, although he didn't know why that was of any importance whatsoever, he'd much rather have a woman that shared his interests.

It wasn't that she did anything wrong. Perhaps it was exactly this that annoyed him so: She seemed flawless but lacked any distinctive features, as if there was only the shell but no mussel inside. As if her golden varnish was all there was.

After his father's insistence he was not at all inclined to get to know her better. He was a grown man, he made his own choices, that much he wanted to make clear. He was not in need of a wife. He did not want to sire children, he did not want to settle now already. He was in his prime, did his father not see?

But his staggering victory gentled the anger inside him and Sif had invited her to sit with them at dinner anyway so he found that ignoring her would be too harsh.

"Do you enjoy mead?" he asked and handed her a jug. She took it hesitantly. He had already noticed that she, unlike her sister, preferred wine or cider to the drink of Gods.

"I enjoy the taste, yet not the effect, my prince."

What a lacklustre reply. He smiled at her despite it. "Well, I'll tell you a secret, Lady Freyja, it is the effect it is drunk for."

She smiled again, as if he had indeed let her in on a secret. Thor didn't like riddles, that was for Loki. He wished she would simply say what she was thinking. He didn't like complicated people who would never say directly what they meant but took a ten league detour only to finish with a cryptical statement that could mean everything and nothing. Was she that sort of person? Did she enjoy letting him guess the meaning of her words, her smile? Again, a riddle he wasn't particularly interested in solving.

Loki, on the other hand, indeed thought that Freyja Sigurdsdottir proved more and more of a riddle. She was a dutiful servant to their mother, she charmed Thor with nonchalance, yet there was no passion in her. His coldness towards her had not concerned her in the slightest, it had seemed. This was her father's plan and she just his pawn. Loki found himself wondering what she herself truly wanted. Did she know?

Once again, she sat at his brother's table, next to her sister. They were close, it seemed. Thor, of course, paid her little heed because she was neither hammer nor blade. She did not seem to mind much, she was talking to Hogun, engrossed in what seemed to be a very interesting conversation. Loki thought her an expert liar. One rarely had interesting conversations with Hogun and even more rarely after three cups of strong ale. When she gave a high, clear laugh, he was certain she was pretending. Hogun wasn't called the Grim for no reason. Her laugh, however, seemed to serve its purpose.

Thor directed his attention towards her. "People rarely laugh when Hogun talks," he said with a grin.

"Perhaps he excelled himself today, then," she said with an affectionate look at the impassive warrior.

"What was it that you found so entertaining?" Thor asked, not very kindly.

"He told me that the four of you once fought a group of Dark Elves and emerged unscratched."

Oh, she was wicked. Loki approached them slowly, waiting for his brother's predictable answer.

"And why is that cause for laughter?" He had raised his voice slightly, a threatening change and those that had been at court for some time knew it was best to duck low now. She, however, simply gave a little incredulous laugh.

"It must be an exaggeration. The Dark Elves are so immensely powerful. Without meaning to diminish your no doubt admirable skills at arms, I doubt that six young warriors could overpower these most dangerous creatures."

Loki slid onto the bench next to Sif who did not look very amused.

Thor's expression had changed from bewildered to angry.

"You doubt our valour?" His voice rang through the hall now. Unfortunately, neither Odin nor Frigga were there to witness their son's poor conduct.

"Of course not –" she started, convincingly taken aback.

"I'll tell you myself then, Lady Freyja, if you do not believe Hogun, that we did defeat the Dark Elves. It was us six against a dozen, if you need to know."

Lady Freyja did not blush now as she had during their discussion on autonomy, which convinced Loki that all this was carefully orchestrated. Instead her eyes went wide with surprise.

"You defeated Dark Elves?" There was admiration in her voice and reverence laced with fear, as if she suppressed a shudder.

Thor's expression softened.

"I did."

Loki was certain that he was not the only one who noticed that the plural had become a singular. Sif snorted, though rather quietly. So she, too, knew what her sister was up to.

Freyja had slid up the bench very subtly, so that she sat opposite the prince now.

"Are they as gruesome as the tales say?" She had bent over slightly, as if she could hardly wait for the reply, and the neckline of her dress had slipped down an inch. A cheap trick, though not without effect: Loki caught Fandral, still talking to Volstagg about the perfect balance of a broadsword, staring at the revealed skin.

Thor grinned. "Even worse."

Now, she shuddered. "By the Nine, I would have frozen out of fear. I have sometimes dreamt of them, here in Asgard." And she looked so very pretty and guileless and worthy of protection that Loki understood his brother as he patted her hand and said, very condescendingly:

"Fear not. my lady, my hammer and I will always protect you." He made no mention of Heimdall, who, of course, would never allow in Dark Elves in the first place. Neither did she.

"It seems a strange weapon," she said, gesturing toward the hammer at Thor's side. "And it looks so very heavy."

"Uncommon, perhaps, but I have never lost a fight with Mjölnir in hand," Thor boasted. "As for its weight, you might want to feel for yourself."

Instead of asking the prince to hand the hammer over, she rose from the bench, walked around the table with long strides that revealed a bit of her ankles, then sat down next to Thor, her eyes on his, a sweet, embarrassed smile on her lips.

Thor laid the hammer on the table in front of her. Very convincingly, she tried to lift it, but failed.

"Will you help me?" she asked. "I would like to feel its power."

Thor put his hand on hers.

At the same time, Loki felt Sif stiffen next to him.

"Does it hurt?" he inquired in a very low voice that was drowned out by Volstagg's booming assurance that his broadsword was better balanced than the Nine Realms themselves.

Sif pretended not to hear him.

Loki, somehow angry, prodded her further: "That all it might have taken are cheap tricks such as these? That your sister might win where you have failed? I wonder...does she know?"

Sif got up so forcefully that the bench wobbled underneath him. Hogan, who had listened to both his warrior brothers and his prince, looked up at Sif in surprise. Loki tried to feel pleased about himself. He was no longer alone in his misery, after all. But unfortunately, it was rather difficult to lie to himself, silvertongue aside.

Without a word Sif stormed away but Thor never noticed her departure. His hand was still on Freyja's, but now Loki heard him recount what he himself had dubbed the "300 greatest victories of Thor the Mighty". Now, though, he noticed that these victories were even more spectacular than usual, and actually quite different from what Loki himself remembered of the events. His brother was showing off and there was no way to misinterpret the way he looked at her. It seemed that she was no longer simply pretty in his eyes.

Loki lost interest. He had come to watch her fail, after all. Yet, he was not all too eager to join his parents at the high table. They would inquire how he found her, how Thor liked her. So he stayed, miserable though he was, and drank, perhaps a little too heavily. He longed for the quiet solitude of his chambers but he couldn't leave, not when the future of his claim to the throne was decided right here.

But to his great surprise, Freyja once again withdrew early, this time to sit with the other ladies-in-waiting who, she claimed, she wished to befriend. After much coaxing from her, Thor finally invited her to walk with him in the gardens the next day.

"You might even succeed where my sister failed," she said with a lopsided smile and Thor's face lit up. He had evidently not looked forward to a simple walk.

"You want me to show you how to fight?"

"Exactly that. I will never learn, I fear, but I'd very much like to try at least once more."

"It will be my pleasure," Thor grinned. "I shall be very gentle."

"Oh, no, you need to be stern or I shall try everything to eschew lessons."

"Were you an unruly student, Lady Freyja?"

She chuckled. "You can hardly expect me to lay open the sins of my youth, my prince. Not so early."

"Stay and drink with us and I will have found them out before morning," Thor replied with a grin.

"This is exactly why I must leave you although it pains me. Knowing too much might scare you off."

A challenge. Very clever. Thor would seize every single one.

"I don't know, my lady."

But she only smiled in reply, rested her hand on his arm briefly and then left for the table to the far left of the hall where most of the ladies were seated, drinking cherry cider.

~o~

A few hours later, Loki, too, had left his brother's table. There was only so much drunken banter he could bear and Volstagg and Fandral had had decidedly too much ale and were singing bawdy songs. Hogun was drinking with Sif, who had returned after a while, dry-eyed and seemingly calm, and Thor, discussing their sword practice earlier. They were Thor's friends, never truly his. Fandral treated him pleasantly enough, Volstagg was generally good-humoured but Hogan and Sif disliked him. He wasn't particularly fond of any of them although he remembered days when he would have given all his magic to belong with them.

He roamed the hall for a while, stopping here and there for meaningless chatter, always careful to avoid his mother's eyes, before he took his usual spot near the side door from where he had an excellent view over the hall. When it was finally late enough to retreat respectfully, he moved towards the side door but was stopped by the subject of Thor's attentions.

"Prince Loki," she curtsied, her voice low and breathless.

"Lady Freyja. You dance well," Loki said to gloss over his surprise. What did she want of him? A recommendation? A whispered word into his brother's ear? Information on his brother? He wouldn't give her anything.

"A compliment from the silver tongued prince, why, I am charmed." There was this smile again, lurking in the corner of her mouth, as if it'd rather stay hidden.

"A mere shadow of my brother's compliment for you. Yet, your sister did not seem to rejoice," he replied smoothly. If she thought him the portal to his brother's favour, she should think again.

The woman looked a little confused. Could it be? Did she not know? Or did she not want to be reminded of what she was doing to her sister? He would find out.

"How very perceptive of you, my prince. Yes, my sister prefers other activities to a dance."

A clever evasion or genuine ignorance?

"And yet, I see no sheath at your hip." He knew that his gaze was too intense, that he was looking at her too closely. He raised his eyes to meet hers and found that her smile had vanished, instead, she was eyeing him appraisingly. It was outrageous considering she had fawned on his brother all day.

"I have little interest in the swishing and swinging of blades my sister enjoys so much. No, I am interested in the mightier, finer arts," she said slowly, weighing her words carefully.

The mightier arts. He thought he finally knew what she wanted from him. Not that he had any intention of giving it to her, but it would be satisfying to deny her plea.

"Needlework?" he supplied. She found his grin rather wicked but it told her enough: He knew what she was about to ask him and he knew his price.

"Amusing," she allowed before lowering her voice even more, her eyes darting over the lords and ladies present to make sure they were not overheard. Foolish. Did she trust him?

"Will you teach me your sorcery?" she asked then, hastily. "I cannot bear Sif's bragging any longer."

Sif truly was annoying, Loki could attest to that. So the two sisters were not getting on well after all. It was all part of her play. He should have known. Siblings were always rivals and the two sisters were rivals for Thor's affections. That must be particularly dividing.

"Share what my mother taught me? And with some obscure girl? I think not. I doubt you'd even be capable." And he walked past her, feeling the full extent of his petty triumph over a girl who had done him no ill.

"I can pay you."

Her voice was perfectly audible although she had not followed him. Loki knew that she did not mean the gold in her father's treasury. She really knew how to lay out bait. Two brothers in one day. Things were starting to get interesting. He turned around.

"My knowledge comes at a hefty price."

"Naturally. Name it."

And Loki Odinson eyed her with new-found interest. The proud posture, the scrutinising eyes that seemed to notice almost everything, the golden hair, her shapely figure, that low voice. There really was no trace of her sister in her. Whoever their mother had been, she must have left this girl her looks for Sigurd shared Sif's dark hair and wiry build. This one was made for life at court, for life on the centre stage, for political intrigue and diplomatic missions. Odin should consider making her an ambassador if she should fail to become queen.

And then, the words stumbled over his tongue and out they were: "Reject my brother." He did not quite know why he asked this. It was a vague idea in his mind that had not yet taken shape but he already knew that he couldn't bear it. Thor, favoured by fortune and the Asgardians, skilled in battle, the king's favourite son, taller and stronger than he ever could be, and also happily married to a woman of beauty and sense, finally a man in their father's eyes, ready for the throne. So he seized his chance to thwart his brother's luck, however hypothetical and speculative it was. He felt guilty for it, of course, he always did. But he was an expert at suppressing guilt.

If she was surprised by his request she hid it well. He would have liked to know what she was thinking, what she was reading into this.

"You want me to humiliate my future king?" she asked, her voice perfectly even.

Perhaps he would not be her future king at all.

"I want you to make a wise choice," he replied cryptically. They were still undiscovered, the mead was flowing too freely already but if they continued to stand here like conspirators, someone would notice.

"We should dance," he said, his eyes still on his father's subjects, on Thor, drunk and surrounded by his admirers. Looi offered her his arm.

She raised her hand to meet his in reply. The music was no more than a distant rumble but he dictated an unheard rhythm. She found his intense gaze slightly unsettling but stared back just as openly. Loki Odinson was not like his brother. For one, he was a better dancer. But he was not a pawn, like Thor was, under all his valour and pride and rashness. Loki was a player. And as soon as he perceived a weakness, he'd use it against her.

"I will refuse your brother's proposal, should he make one," she offered at last in a hushed voice.

"What if that is not his intent?"

She got his meaning right away.

"I will naturally refuse to be anything less than his wife, even without your demand."

He weighed her words. His instincts told him that this woman knew how to play his game well, that the lies rolled off her tongue too easily. Loki was never foolish enough to trust anyone but this time, he would be especially cautious.

"Meet me at midnight in the Queen's reception chamber," he said, then twirled her around so forcefully that she stumbled against him.

"Caution, or you will be spoiled goods for a prince."

She hated his superior smile, now that he knew she needed him, she hated the way he positioned her an arm's length away, as if she had thrown herself at him.

"I shall heed your kind counsel." She curtsied, not as low as she had to Thor, then turned around and left him standing there.

~o~

He did not want to meet her at midnight. He wanted to send guards to find her there, alone in the queen's chambers. Alas, he walked down the corridors through darkness. Too great was the promise of her power. Thor had never before shown exceptional interest in any other woman but Sif. Through her, he could control his brother until finally, he would orchestrate his public humiliation. Thor would not be able to stomach such an attack on his pride. And while he recovered, it would be Loki who could show their father that he was more mature, that he would never allow anyone to fool him so. And Odin would be proud of him, prouder than of Thor for once. Perhaps he would see that Loki was more apt to rule, too, but there would be enough time for that afterwards.

Before everything could fall right into place, he would have to do his share of chores. And this particular chore was not waiting in his mother's public reception chamber that was completely deserted.

The clock struck midnight. Had she tricked him?

"I wasn't sure you'd come."

She emerged from the shadows behind a tall column. Even in the dark, he could make out the red veins that streaked the golden marble. Loki was relieved. Although she was a chore, he did not like being tricked. Or forgotten.

"Neither was I, after your insolence," he said silkily. "But the thought of a student, so hungry for knowledge only I can give her, led me here. In a way, of course, I will be your tree of knowledge."

He left the implication of his power over her, of her dependence on him dangling in the air, knowing she'd understand.

And indeed, she grimaced as if he had physically hurt her. "A noble teacher." She approached him. Slowly, she stretched out her hand and laid it on his arm. He felt the warmth of her skin through his tunic.

"You truly are here." She seemed surprised. "Well, then, where do I start?"

"We start with some guidelines." He had gone over this in his head earlier.

"Guidelines concerning our agreement, I suppose?" She raised a brow. How insolent she was. He was her prince, just like Thor. How dared she talk to him like this?

"If you're this quick as a student, I foresee a great future for you."

His acid tone only made her smile.

"I never knew you had the gift of premonition." And now she was mocking him. Loki had a feeling he was edging closer to the true Freyja Sigurdson and he didn't particularly like her. He woud have preferred her usual sweet talk but of course that was reserved for his brother.

"I call it sense," he gave back, "but you can believe in folklore all you like." His condescending tone was on point. He saw the anger in her eyes. He had discovered a weakness. Pride. Common, of course, but nevertheless promising. "Now, for the terms of our, as you say, agreement. No one may know that I teach you."

"Naturally." Arrogant she was, too.

"You will not show off your powers to your friends or brag about them publicly."

At that, she smiled. "I don't have friends."

That pleased him, somehow.

"That might make matters simpler. I will dictate the place, the time, even the pace of your education in the finer arts."

He saw that for the fracture of a moment, she clenched her jaw, but then she nodded briskly.

"All this provided that you are even capable of wielding magic. It is no easy feat. Should you fail, the agreement still stands."

"What do you mean, if I fail?" For the first time, she seemed interested.

"Not everyone can bend reality at will. Perhaps you are too mundane."

"Then I shall find out now." She looked at him defiantly.

"Slow down. I am not yet finished." Loki would take his time with this. Savour every moment of suspense and waiting.

"What other demands could you possibly have?" she asked incredulously.

"No demand. A warning. I know of course that a promise is worth less than smoke in the wind. Should you fail to uphold our agreement, you will find yourself regretting your choice."

"A threat," she smiled. "How original. It is not in my interest to let anyone know about this. So please, start teaching me. The nights are short."

"Magic," he found himself saying reluctantly, "is nothing more than lying to the world, to the universe itself, so believably that your lie bends reality for a time. Some people, like my brother, are too fond of the truth, too set in his ways, too inflexible, in short, unable to diverge from the beaten path to ever practise magic."

Goodness, he was wordy. Teachers should not love to hear themselves talk so much. It was ineffective and, frankly, a little dull. Although she understood his explanation. It seemed she would be a natural.

"Are you capable of deceit?" he asked sardonically. He knew of course that she was. Freyja was aware by now that Loki had seen through her already.

"It might sound frivolous to brag of my abilities." But the look she gave him was hard as iron.

"I take that as a yes. You will find that your personal magic will differ greatly from mine, should you be able to produce magic at all. Your magic is as personal as your soul."

She listened silently, her eyes fixed on his, her body tense.

"You might try for now to seize an object. It is one of the easiest forms of magic."

"And why is that?"

"Because objects, unlike living beings, have no will of their own. Well, unlike most living beings. Some of the maidens that vie for my brother's favour might as well be marble figurines." He chuckled about his own joke, no doubt savouring the jibe against her.

She looked around the room, looking for something to move with her mind only. What would be a fitting item?

"A candle will do," he said and motioned to the dark chandelier above them.

It didn't work. And with every failure, she seemed only more determined until he finally grew tired of watching her struggle.

"It seems you lack the gift," he said patronisingly, very pleased that her powerlessness spared him the necessity of upholding his part of the bargain, "Do not fret, only few are awarded beyond all others. You can still call a pretty face your own."

She should not have entered a pact with the trickster so easily, he had warned her, in a fashion.

Anger contorted her face. "That is not all I am." She breached the distance between them with three swift steps and looked him in the eyes. "And you will teach me."

At first, he had wanted to laugh about her demanding attitude but suddenly, her voice was heavy, alluring, like a song, a melody almost forgotten and he wondered why he would ever refuse to do so, of course he would teach – No.

She had not been wrong. She was more than that.

"Have you done that before?" he asked. "Compelled someone?"

She seemed disappointed, a line had appeared between her brows.

"Why is it not working on you?"

"Because my mind is nothing you'd want to trifle with, believe me. Now, have you?"

"Once. A few days past. That's why I came to you tonight. Because I knew it was magic."

So she had not entered a bargain with him lightly. She had known all along. She could have revealed that before but she had hidden it, had pretended that her wish to be more than her sister was her sole motivation. She had tricked him. He felt anger rising inside him but she still was a promise unfulfilled. Once he had what he wanted from her, he could still slither out of their agreement. He would teach her some rudimentary skills to appease her. And Loki would never again be fooled by her.

"It is indeed, yet, I would prove a much too resilient object of training for you. We will no doubt find someone more impressionable patrolling the corridors tonight."

In truth, he was afraid that next time, she might be able to plant something inside his mind. Her skill was raw and untrained but strong and he was not feeling all that resilient tonight.

She smirked as if she knew. "No need to be afraid," she said very arrogantly, but she followed him through the deserted corridors nevertheless.

A guard crossed their path soon enough. "My prince," he bowed, then spotted her. "And Lady Freyja –"

That should serve as an incentive, Loki thought gleefully, or the whole palace would know that she'd prowled the corridors at night with Thor's brother come morning.

"I'm not here," she said, but her voice was low, scared.

"You need to believe it yourself," he said.

"My lady," the guard started, clearly uncomfortable with being witness to something he fancied was a large-scale scandal.

"I'm not here."

And the guard's eyes went blank for a moment, then he turned to Loki.

"A good night to you, my prince."

And he continued his patrol without noticing Freyja right next to him.

She threw him a victorious grin that made her look a lot less elegant and a lot...hungrier.

"You should get yourself to your bedchamber before your seeming virtue is fully tainted."

"When can we continue?" she asked, never minding his affront.

"I will come to you," he said. She really was capable of magic so he would have to continue for a while but in secret. His chambers were closed to everyone but his family and he would not have Thor's dalliance run in and out as she pleased.

"My chambers are –" she started but he was Loki Odinson, the mischievous prince, the trickster.

"I shall uncover that closely-guarded secret, no doubt."

Later, when he tossed and turned in his bed as usual, he couldn't help but look forward to their next lesson. He would make her wait for it, at least a little. But that look of hunger on her face, the feeling that had risen inside him when she had been successful...he had liked it. Perhaps it was time to pass on what he had learned. To make another person better. It was a strange notion. He wouldn't make her too good, of course. He would not be surpassed by her, of all people. She was powerful enough as it was. For now, at least. Thor's affections had always been as constant as the wind.

Loki did not think about their bargain. As he fell asleep, he did not think about Thor's public humiliation. He thought about his new task. However reluctant he was to help her, he did want to show her what he could do. He did want to see her learn. And while he considered which books to lend to her, he fell asleep and slept as quietly as he rarely did.