Loki trailed behind her father as they wandered through the maze of halls that made up the lower levels of the Asgardian palace. Her green eyes flashed from place to place, memorizing every detail for future use. Her brother, Thor, who had been silently walking next to her, groaned aloud.

"Are we there yet?" he asked for what must have been the thousandth time. Loki felt the urge to break his idiotic nose welling up within her and pushed it back down. If they were still walking, she thought to herself, what in the Nine Realms possessed him to think they might have arrived at where they were going?

"Not yet, my son," Odin, the Allfather replied, "although we are very close." No more than a minute or two later, the group stopped in front of an unassuming room flanked by a pair of Asgard's elite soldiers. Loki took one look at them and instinctively edged further into the shadows. The guards saluted their king, and the doors swung open, seemingly of their own accord. Odin swept into the room with Thor and Loki trailing in his wake. The two youngsters looked around curiously at the wide variety of treasures that filled the room. Thor immediately moved towards the weaponry, as was to be expected. Loki shook her head in derision and turned her attention to the items of a more... magical variety. In particular, she found herself drawn towards a glowing cube of blue crystal. It had a handle on each side and delicate etching across the front. It practically radiated power. Loki shivered; the air near the cube seemed to be several degrees cooler than the rest of the vault. She stood on tiptoes to see over the edge of the pedestal it sat on, then reached out to pick it up.

"Loki, no!" Odin's voice boomed across the room. Loki's hands snapped back to her side, and she looked up at her father, no sign of guilt on her face.

"What it it?" she asked, tilting her head to the side to study it from a different angle.

"That is the Frost Casket. It is a weapon of the Frost Giants, one that they must never be allowed to wield again."

"The Frost Giants of Jotunheim?" Thor asked. "The same ones that invaded Midgard?"

"The very same," Odin said. Loki suppressed a shudder. Every child in Asgard knew the stories of what happened during the war. None of them were pretty. Frost Giants were the stuff of nightmares, and best to be forgotten. "My children, one day, I will go to Valhalla to be with the ancestors. When that happens, one of you will be the ruler of Asgard, and it will be your job to keep our people safe."

"I'm the oldest," Thor said, interrupting his father. "I should be king of Asgard."

"You're also the dumbest," Loki replied. "You wouldn't last a day."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Enough!" Odin's voice brooked no argument. Thor stuck his tongue out at Loki but said nothing. Loki, for her part, only wore a self-satisfied smirk. "When the time comes, I will choose who will sit on the throne. Now, let us go before your mother wonders where we have been spirited off to." With that, Odin took his children's hands and led them out of the vault. No one - not the guards, not Thor, and not Odin - saw Loki look back over her shoulder one last time as the doors closed with an ominous boom. No one saw her look at the casket with what can only be described as longing.

Later that night, Loki was curled up in bed, the covers propped over her head with an old fishing pole. A werelight flickered by her head, casting a greenish glow onto the book she was reading. Suddenly, the blankets were whipped away. Loki jerked up with a startled cry as her mother burst out laughing. Realizing she had been pranked, Loki huffed and turned to face Frigga.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" her mother asked gently, a smile still twitching at the corners of her lips.

Loki rolled out of bed and pulled a dictionary off a nearby shelf. "Technically speaking, 'bedtime' is a time when one goes to bed. I was in my bed; therefore I have not violated any rules whatsoever." She slammed the dictionary shut, then looked up sheepishly. "Besides, I had to know what happened next."

"You also need to sleep," Frigga said, picking her daughter up and carrying her back to bed.

"But I'm not tired!"

"Well then, how about I tell you a story?" Loki's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was a young frost giant-"

"Is he the villain of the story?"

"No," Frigga said. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, he's a frost giant. And they're bad."

"Loki, child, no people is bad or good. They simply are. There are good and bad Asgardians, and there are good and bad Jotun."

"Jotun?"

"Oh, so many questions! Jotun are frost giants."

"Oh. I think I get it?" Loki's face showed that she was still trying to process this idea, but Frigga continued anyway.

"One day, the frost giant met a young princess from Vanaheim. They met at a ball, both trying to avoid unwanted suitors." Frigga's voice grew soft, and there was a faraway look in her eyes. "They danced the night away, and when it was over, letters flew back and forth between the two as fast as the wind could carry them. Over time, the friendship that had sparked between them grew into something more. In the meantime, the princess ascended to the throne of her people, and the frost giant earned the right to rule Jotunheim in a dangerous tournament. His opponent was much, much bigger than he was, but he was not afraid. He stepped into the ring while the princess watched in fear, for she had grown to truly love him. She soon realized that she need not have worried. Her Jotun prince might have been smaller, but he was smarter, faster, and a better fighter than his opponent-"

"Thor says whoever hits hardest wins the battle."

"Well, Thor doesn't know everything. More often than not, strategy trumps brute strength, and skill combined with strategy is an almost certain path to victory. Now, do you want me to finish the story or not, my little raven?" Loki nodded enthusiastically, so Frigga continued.

"They fought for hours, until they were both exhausted and covered in sweat, despite the fact that it was freezing cold out. Then, all of a sudden, the prince stumbled and fell!" Loki gasped. "His opponent laughed maniacally as he closed in for the kill. Then, suddenly, he wasn't laughing anymore. In fact, he wasn't doing anything. He just stood there, frozen, with his sword raised to take the prince's head. Then, he slowly toppled over backwards, dead."

"What happened to him?"

"The prince had pretended to trip in order to trick his opponent. It made him sloppy, and it allowed the prince to throw his dagger into his opponent's throat, killing him. The princess was so relieved that her love survived, she vaulted over the wall and ran to him. He caught her in his arms and kissed her passionately in front of everyone. Not long after, he asked the princess to marry him, and she said yes. They were married in the spring, under the night sky of Vanaheim, and they had a daughter. They were truly happy together..." Frigga's voice trailed off.

"What happened to them?" Loki asked, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

"That, my dear, is a story for another night." Loki tried to protest but was interrupted by another yawn. Frigga gently laid her in bed and pulled the covers up, sending the fishing pole back to its place with a wave of her hand. When she turned back to the bed, Loki was asleep. Frigga smiled sadly, then headed for the door.

"Good night, my darling." She closed the door. Then, when she was certain Loki could not see, she wiped a silent tear from her eye.