It was two days since Prince Loki had tasked zher with practicing zher seiðr and zhe hadn't be able to practice even once. The doppelganger he'd conjured to take Juri's place had been surely and rude, and zher dame had not taken the disrespect well. If they had still been on Jötunheim, zher dame would have assigned zher extra chores and taken away zher wandering privileges. But here, there was little to be done and nowhere to explore, so zher dame had sat Juri facing a corner for five hours. Straight. After that, Brunnhilde had come to visit Hulk and the two of them had insisted Juri and zher dame join them for cards. Then it was dinner and then zher dame had sent Juri to bed. No complaining allowed.
The next day zher dame had insisted they do their exercises. Being sedentary for months at a time would put a person in poor health, and so Oma had developed a routine to combat this. Oma also insisted Juri go through zher katas, correcting zher form and critiquing zher footing.
Some time after noon Juri finally managed to wriggle out of zher dame's attentions, slipping into the main cargo bay. A few Sakaarans were poking about the crates, gathering supplies for the passengers above. They ignored Juri and zhe returned the favor, finding a clear patch of floor hidden behind a wall of steal crates. Zhe settled down cross legged and let zher eyes fall half-closed, reaching out with zher seiðr for the rivers of energy flowing through the hull.
Zhe imagined them to be an ethereal blue, like the color of light filtered through thick ice. In truth, it had no color, just a feeling on the inside of zher heart, but the visualization helped zher focus.
There were less streams here than in the engine room. The inert alloys of the ship held little energy, though the electrical wires threaded through its walls drew a decent current. Some of the boxes in the bay, too, held a little more energy than others. Zhe suspected they contained organic material, or perhaps well used tools.
The cloak pin Juri's Omama had given zher drew more power than did the anklet Juri had purchased for zherself. The sash zher sire had gifted zher drew more energy than did the kilt it held up.
Did thoughts and feelings linger upon the objects zhe held dear?
Juri lifted zher hands to cup the cloak pin, not touching, but reaching for the tingling hum that surrounded. The energy fell over zher palms like feathers, or the light brush of fur. Worg fur.
The smell of hunting beasts reared in the back of zher throat, thick and musky, the distant sound of howling dancing at the edge of zher hearing. Juri gasp, lips drawn into a smile.
Omama.
Juri let the feeling fade, slowly drawing from the pin's memories. Zhe wiped zher eyes, blinking away the small moisture gathering there. Zhe wouldn't use something so precious for practice.
Juri's smile remained as zhe turned zher attention to the ship's streams.
Juri wasn't sure how long it had been when zhe was roused from zher trance. Zhe blinked, becoming aware of the bright presence to zher right.
Oma stood, leaning against a wall of secured crates, gazing down on Juri with a thoughtful expression.
"Those are Às magics," Oma said, the rumble of zher voice joining the hum of the ship. Juri could almost see the shape of Oma's words as they dispersed in the air, rippling across the energy streams.
Juri shook zher head and zher vision realigned, the streams sinking out of focus.
"I, um," Juri's head felt slow, still realigning to the everyday feeling of the material world.
"Where did you learn it?" Zher dam didn't sound angry. At least, not yet.
What could zhe say? Certainly not the truth. But where else would zhe have seen Às magic?
"I, uh, I saw Brunnhilde doing it. The other day." Juri wasn't sure if Brunnhilde knew any seiðr but it was possible, and that was enough. "She said it's a way to practice and increase your constitution."
"Hm."
"Is that all right?" If it wasn't all right then it would make practicing much more difficult. And Juri had to practice. If zhe didn't, if zhe couldn't be of use to Prince Loki…
Zhe had to get this right.
Zher dame pushed off from the crates and came to sit opposite Juri. The space was cramped with the two of them, their crossed legs only inches apart.
"I will not stop you from pursuing this, though I would encourage caution. The Às way of magic is a dangerous way. They do not work with the flow of things. Instead, they seek to bend the world to their will. But the world is not an inert thing and it does not take kindly to pushy masters. If you are uncareful, you will come to harm."
"I'm being careful. I'm starting small, with little streams." Or, zhe had started with little streams. Zhe'd gotten bored of that quickly.
Oma tilted zher head, a small thing, inviting Juri to demonstrate.
Juri took a deep breath, suddenly nervous. Oma was never very skilled with seiðr outside Thermoturgy, but zhe had grown up under Omama's tutelage. Zhe knew what skilled magic looked like.
Juri reached out, feeling the air beneath zher fingertips, searching for the static feeling of concentrated energies. Finding one, zhe pulled it to zher.
The stream sparked, sending a jolt into zher left hand before snapping away. Juri flinched and glanced at zher dame, but Oma continued to watch with patience.
Juri shook zherself out and tried again, tugging at the stream with renewed purpose. This time zhe kept hold of it, the energies pooling in zher palm. It looked like heat over a fire, the air wavering within zher cupped hands. Juri waited for zher dame's nod of approval before releasing the energy in a controlled flow.
"What do you think?" Juri asked, letting zher hands rest on zher thighs.
"I think you will be very powerful some day. And I wish I had paid more mind to my Oma's teachings. I wish you had a master under whom to study."
Juri nodded, dropping zher gaze.
"We will find you someone," Oma said, prodding Juri's shin with zher own foot until Juri was forced to smile.
"Where will we?" Juri asked, zher smile fading, though not disappearing entirely.
Oma shook zher head. Zhe had no answer.
Juri bit zher lip. This might be pushing zher luck, but, "there are seiðrmasters here."
Zher dame's expression dropped into the blank stare of a soldier.
"I know it's unlikely, but if one of them were to agree…?"
"They would not."
"Can we be sure? Brunnhilde is not unkind. Or if I shifted, they needn't even know I'm not one of them."
"Do not even think such things, child!" The wavering of Oma's voice broke through zher forced calm, anger and fear tugging at the corners of zher eyes. "Do you think yourself so skilled as to fool a seiðrmaster? Are you so arrogant? And when your deception is discovered what do you think their reactions will be? Do you expect congratulations? No, they will label you a liar and a danger. They will use your trespass as an excuse to take your head."
Juri didn't respond. Had that not happened already? Prince Loki had known zher immediately, without so much as a word exchanged. And had Loki not needed zher service, would he have hesitated to strike zher down? Zhe couldn't say. Zhe hoped not, but…
Zher dame must have taken zher silence as obstinacy, for zhe continued. "Would you risk yourself for your pride? Would you risk the life of my only child on such a foolish venture?" Oma's growling rumble deepened as zhe spoke. "Then let me tell you what will happen upon your death. I will find the ones who took you from me and I will steal the life-heat from their blood. I will tear their throats out and crush their skulls and they will kill me in turn. If you leave me I will follow you into the abyss."
Oma's glare drilled into Juri leaving zher feeling sick. Images of zher dame bloody and roaring as the Às overwhelmed zher, falling to the gore-slicked floor as weapons burrowed into zher flesh.
Juri's voice was tight, zher throat closing around the words as zhe stuttered, "I-I won't. I won't leave you. I'm sorry. I-" Zhe choked, wiping at zher burning eyes.
Oma's frame relaxed with a grumbling sigh and zhe reached out to Juri with one large hand. "Here."
Juri crawled into zher Oma's lap. Zhe was getting too big for this, but for now zhe fit well enough. Oma ran zher fingers through Juri's braids, rubbing circles between Juri's shoulders with the other hand.
Oh, what a mess zhe'd wheedled zherself into. Juri had been so excited to explore the Às levels in disguise, had been so eager to watch Prince Loki's magics, and now both Juri and Oma's lives hung on Juri's untested abilities. Zhe'd heard enough vicious whispers amongst the Æsir to know Loki's threats were real. The Æsir did not want them on this ship and they had precious few allies. Juri believed Brunnhilde to be honestly kind, but how much influence did the Às lady wield?
If the Æsir turned on them, there was very little Juri of zher dame could do. Oma's predictions would come to pass, unless Juri remained useful.
"Why do they hate us so?" Juri whispered into Oma's collarbone.
"Because we do not bow." Oma's breath rumbled across Juri's brow, zher words reverberating through Juri's chest. "The others of the nine, they bend the knee to Asgard's power."
"But we surrendered. Just like the Vanir and the Elves. But Asgard does not hate them."
"Laufey surrendered, that is true. In name, we are vassals of Asgard," and Oma's voice grew hard as zhe said that. "But we do not bow. We do not worship the Æsir as god like the Mortals do. We do not flatter and flutter like the Elves nor call Odin our Father as do the Vanir. Asgard has enacted its laws upon our bodies but they cannot chain our hearts, and so they hate us."
"It's stupid," Juri said. "They aren't even Asgard anymore. They're just refugees without a home. No one will bow to them now."
Oma's hum had a pleased sound to it. "Yes… Though, it is best we are not here when they realize this."
Juri glanced at zher Oma in question.
"The powerful grow vicious when they see their power fade."
