Part 2 of the BOUND by MAGIC Series
Sequel to FOUND by MAGIC
°.✩┈┈∘*┈?￢ﾔﾈ*∘┈┈✩.°CHILD of MAGIC°.✩∘*┈?￢ﾔﾈ*∘┈┈✩.°
In the early hours, Hermione was already up and about before the sun had risen. If one listened closely, they would hear her steps echoing through the halls of the Ásgarðian palace. Frigga, the queenQueenelf, was the only one up at this hour to greet her and offer her supervision. By which Hermione sat with her, eating a variety of meats and cheese that had flavours she'd become fond of over the years. Biting into a broken-off piece of cheese spiced with herbs Hermione wasn't sure of but liked all the same. Frigga had called it Nøkkelost. Eating it with
Upon finishing her day meal, Hermione sought out Loki, but he was busy and couldn't attend to her immediately. Busy meant that Odin was talking to him. That was the only real reason he couldn't see her.
"Fulla?" she turned to her handmaid, who had been appointed to her by Frigga. Fulla was a silent guardian, attentive and mannerly, attending to Hermione's every need. Or so she said she would. Having someone waiting on her, hand and foot, was a strange thought. One Hermione didn't find herself all too comfortable with. Despite her mother teaching her to be a self-dependent young lady, Hermione asked Fulla to guide her to Thor so she could pass the time while waiting for Loki.
That's right. She was going to start her training Today. No more meditation this, or focus that! No, she knew better than to think anything of the sort. Loki would tack more onto the meditation she had to do. Though, it wasn't so bad. Before bed. When she woke up, sometimes, she would take a few minutes at school when it was too loud, and Hermione liked how it made her feel lighter afterwards.
"Lady Hermione,"
"Hm?!" Jolting out of her thoughts, Hermione turned to Fulla. "Yes, ma'am?"
"..." Fulla stared thoughtfully at Hermione before smiling, "We are close to the Arena. Please pay attention to where we are going so you won't get lost. I will inform Prince Loki where you are once he's finished meeting with the All-Father."
"Will Loki be much longer?"
"I couldn't possibly know for what the young Prince has requested the All-Fathers' presence," Fulla said, looking back down the hall, "but he will make haste for you." She motioned Hermione forward, "Let's go. This way, I can hear the cheers from here."
So could Hermione. It was loud and rowdy wherever they were going. Wherever happened to be the Arena. It was bright outside, on this side, still shadowed on the farthest side of Ásgarðr. Looking around, Hermione took Fulla's hand as she guided her through the rowdy crowd of cheering Ásgarðrians. It was loud. So very loud. Nothing at all like it was when she was with Loki. No, with Loki, it was pretty quiet, with the occasional outburst of laughter, but nothing so... loud. Hermione stopped beside Fulla, who was speaking with Sif now. Oh, Hermione recognised what was happening here. She was being passed off. This didn't happen often because she usually stayed with Loki during spontaneous and accidental visits. Occasionally, though.
Sif eyed her with that same look she always gave her. Not able to place it, Hermione didn't ask about it, but she didn't like it either.
Crossing her arms over her chest as Fulla left, Sif turned her attention back to the fight.
"Lady Sif, will you be fighting too?" If there was one thing Hermione knew about the woman, she lived to fight. Loki called her a warrior among weak-willed men. Feeling a firm brush of wind pull on her hair, Hermione immediately reached her hand up to grab it, forgetting that Fulla had pulled it up into a half bun to keep it out of her face for training. Only wisps of curly strands tickled her cheeks.
"I am fighting Hogun after Thor's fight with Volstagg." Her eyes were stationed on the fight, mostly ignoring Hermione, who was peering around the bulky mass of muscle in front of her.
"Excuse me," Hermione moved around the man; his eyes dropped onto her, causing her to stumble back into Sif, who kept her still with a single hand on her shoulder.
"Stop moving so much. Can you see?"
"Y-yes. Now I can."
"Then stand still and watch."
Biting her lip, worrying it, she glanced away from Sif and looked back at the Arena. She could see the fight now, but it was still loud here. "Loki..." her voice was so low, she went unheard, probably for the best. The sound of clashing weapons and roaring crowds filled the air. She watched the two go at it with their weapons of choice. A stagnant smell had Hermione bringing up her hand to her nose to ward off the stench, heavy with sweat and testosterone. Still, watching Thor fight was something she didn't often get to see. It was different from watching Loki do magic.
Her eyes widened as she watched Thor battle against the burly Volstagg. Among Thor's friends, Volstagg was her favourite. Not that she spent too much of her time with any of them; still, he was big and goofy and always gave her food when they were in the dining hall.
At that moment, the two warriors clashed, their weapons ringing as they fought with all their might. Volstagg appeared to be a formidable opponent, his strength and size almost matching Thor's, but the God of Thunder was relentless, his lightning-fast strikes keeping Volstagg on the defensive. Even without using his hammer, which it looked like he didn't use while in the Arena, his battle prowess was unmatched.
The crowd cheered as the two warriors exchanged blows. Hermione watched with bated breath as Thor landed a decisive hit, knocking Volstagg to the ground before slamming the blunt end of his blade down into his celiac plexus, drawing out the crowd's excitement. Thor stood over his defeated opponent, his weapon at the ready. But instead of striking the final blow, Thor extended a hand to Volstagg, helping him up and acknowledging his worth as a warrior with a roguish grin.
From behind, someone stepped up and placed a hand on her head. Similar to how her dad did, but not quite the same weight. Spinning back to look over her shoulder, she grinned at Fandral, one of Thor's comrades.
"You here to challenge Thor, Tiny Princess?"
Tiny Princess, or Little Princess, Thor and Loki call me that sometimes... She thought to herself, unsure of how exactly Fandral had heard the nickname she'd had when she was smaller. "No, I don't want to fight Thor. He'd flatten me into a pancake!"
"Well, it's certainly true that no one ever comes out of the Arena the same way that they go in. I don't think they mean the way you look, though,"
Hermione didn't understand what he meant. Pulling herself up to stand on a stone pillar near her, she wrapped her arms around it a bit to keep from falling off. Sif moved so that she stood near enough to catch her if she fell but far away enough to look as if she didn't care. "Is it like when Loki trains me, I always come out of it knowing a little more?"
Fandral flipped his head back, his hair fluttering, or maybe flouncing, with the movement, turning a look of endearment to her, "Much the same, but without the pretty illusions and sparkly tricks." He said with a dusting of laughter accentuating his words.
Hermione glanced at Fandral, a charismatic man with flowing blonde hair and an easy smile. Loki said it was hard to take him seriously. She was sure this was what he meant. Frandal was always wearing the same smile, no matter the situation. Admittedly, Hermione couldn't recall a situation where something more sombre was needed, but he didn't seem to have many other looks to share with her. Listening to him, she was still getting used to his showy way of talking. The random conversations between him and the other Warriors Three that she couldn't often follow did nothing to educate her the way Loki's stories typically did. Though, she appreciated their company when they were around.
On the other hand, Lady Sif observed her with a sharp and critical eye. The few times Hermione had been close enough to exchange words with the female warrior, she had only received a polite greeting and a warning to watch her step after nearly getting trampled by one of the guards. This is the most conversation she'd shared with the woman to date.
Fandral continued to speak beside her, and Hermione's mind began to wander. She found herself lost in thought, gazing at the spectacle in the Arena. The sight of Thor commanding the attention of his faithful fanciers was nothing short of entertaining. Despite her initial hesitation, Hermione couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at the thought of learning more about the ways of battle. Maybe not with a hammer, but something easier for her to hold.
She imagined herself one day stepping into the Arena, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins as she fought for victory. Then, just as quickly as she considered the thought, Hermione shook her head. The reality of that particular scenario was not in her favour. She was learning to use her seiðr properly, and something like fighting Thor could only distract her. No, fighting Thor was not something she would ever aspire to achieve. Watching as he roared in triumph, the crowd cheered him on as he held his fist aloft in victory. Clearly, he had a massive following, his fans chanting his name repeatedly. It was loud again. Hermione stepped down from the pillar, moving to manoeuvre herself back and out of the crowd. The experience was both overwhelming and exhilarating but also too loud. Way too loud.
Breaking away from the boisterous crowd, Hermione blinked up at Fandral in confusion when she realised he was still talking to her, following her. When his hand rested on her shoulder and pulled her out of the way of several massively built warriors moving in to congratulate Thor, she tried to duck out of his reach, but Lady Sif stepped in next to her, blocking her way out. Not by any fault of her own, mind you.
Standing pressed into Fandral, Hermione squirmed to get out of his hold. The way he squeezed her shoulder in the same manner that her dad did sometimes was weird. For him to grab onto her suddenly, it was weird, right? She wanted out. It was so loud. Her head was thumping, and she felt a funny buzzing at her fingertips. No, she knew this feeling. She thought it often when she pulled and drew upon her seiðr. This, however, wasn't anything like those moments. It wasn't controlled. It wasn't intentional. It was everything that it wasn't supposed to be.
Why is it so loud!? And why is Fandral still holding onto me!?
"Hermione!" Thor pushed his way through the crowd as he called out to her. Taking the opportunity to get out of the hands holding her, Hermione shrugged Fandral hand off. Running out of the touchy warrior's reach, she quickly wrapped her arms around Thor's shoulders as he knelt to catch her. He smiled and lifted her into his sweaty arms. Disregarding the leather and armour that was practically fused with his muscles. "You came to watch the matches?"
Burying her head in his neck, she replied silently with a head shake.
"No? Then why are you out here?"
"I woke up early for lessons with Loki, but the All-Father was talking with him. So I asked Fulla where you were, and she brought me here to wait for Loki." Her whispered murmur was barely a hush above the wind.
"I see." Thor nodded, "then how about I give you a lesson instead?"
Hermione furrowed her brows, pulling her head back from where she'd buried it, a slight frown on her face. "But didn't Frigga and Loki say that you couldn't train me?" she asked Thor, looking up at him with curiosity and puzzlement.
Thor placed a finger on his lips, a conspiratorial smile playing on his lips. "Brother isn't the only one with a mischievous streak, Hermione. I shall teach you the ways of the warrior! Secretly," he boomed before whispering the last word with a playful wink.
Looking around at the people surrounding them, Hermione couldn't help but wonder how much of a secret this would be. Lady Sif was hiding a small smile behind a well-timed turn of her head. Volstagg dragged himself over to them, laughing with Fandral at something the blonde man said. It didn't seem like they would be able to find a secluded spot to train in, but what did Hermione know? She wasn't a warrior, and the places she typically visited were not those of a warrior.
"We have another training ground where none would dare disturb us. Loki and I often train there," he said before placing Hermione down and turning to guide her to the new location.
As they turned around, they found themselves face to face with Loki. Hermione was quick to relocate, her arms winding tightly around Loki's waist as she tucked herself away from the noise. Her magic still fuming beneath her touch, she felt it calm under Loki's gentle touch. Not paying much attention to anything else around her, she did notice when he moved back before kneeling in front of her and brushing aside her unruly bangs.
"You're seiðr is out of sync. Have you meditated Today?"
"I did, I did. This morning, when I woke, I did. It didn't start misbehaving until I came to the Arena."
Loki gave a curt nod. Standing straight, he turned his attention back to Thor, who was watching the exchange, curious about Loki's change in persona around Hermione. A single eyebrow raised in interest and bemusement. "Brother, do you think yourself wise to boast of your cunning so openly? Before all of your fans, I see you have confessed before committing your crimes against the All-Mother. Should I inform her, or shall you?" he said, his tone laced with playful sarcasm.
Thor looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered. "Loki! It was all in good humour, I assure you. I was just about to bring Lady Hermione to meet with you," he said, his tone light and jovial.
Loki nodded with a most mischievous glint in his eyes. Hermione couldn't help but grin at the familiar look. There was something about his confidence and charm that drew her in. Of course, it wasn't just her! Her parents adored Loki, so she knew he was good and safe.
Thor stepped back, watching his brother hold out a hand for Hermione to take. "Where will you be training the Tiny Princess?"
There it was. That nickname. Hermione bit her bottom lip to keep from complaining. It never did much but make Thor laugh at her, so arguing the nickname was pointless. Feeling a small jolt of electricity from her now agitated seiðr.
Loki's eyes were still locked on Thor's, and there was a silent communication between them that she couldn't quite understand. Finally, he looked down at Hermione before speaking, though his words were for Thor, "the forest, away from the city. I want her to have the benefit of nature at her seiðrs disposal."
Whether Thor understood what Loki was implying or nodded his head to appear knowledgeable was up in the air.
Giving Hermione's hand a gentle squeeze, he ushered her away from Thor, Lady Sif and the rest of the Warrior Three. "Are you ready for your first lesson in seiðr?" he asked, his voice smooth and reassuring.
Hermione's heart pounded with excitement as she gazed up at Loki. She was eager to discover what he had in store for her. As they strode away, a sense of anticipation filled her being.
"Excellent. While I do not doubt that Thor will eventually return to you, it would be best if you did not encourage him. He may yet train you in the ways of Ásgarð, but for now, focus on our lessons," Loki instructed, ensuring that Hermione remained committed to their training.
"Right," Hermione replied, nodding vigorously.
"Good girl." Loki praised, patting her on the head. He led her towards a dense forest behind the palace. "This place will offer us privacy and allow you to hone your seiðr in a physical manner. I would prefer not to be interrupted by anything...trivial."
As they navigated through the verdant forest, Hermione couldn't help but marvel at the breathtaking beauty of Ásgarð. Towering trees stretched towards the heavens, and lush foliage surrounded them. The tranquil surroundings filled Hermione with a sense of peace and gratitude for the opportunity to be there with Loki, learning the ways of Ásgarð.
"What's on your mind, Thor?"
Looking over his shoulder at Fandral, Thor gave a small huff. "Nothing that constitutes much thought. Just Loki and his newfound fascination with Miðgard's Tiny Sorceress in training."
"His newfound fascination? What, as opposed to yours?" Sif laughed. "We've all seen how you try and garner the mortal girls' attention away from your brother. Is it not enough for you to have your glory in the ring? Must you throw your weight around him and take his apprentice?"
"Throw my weight!?" Growling loudly at Sif, who looked unimpressed, "I have no need for a Miðgardian child slowing me down."
Fandral rocked back on the heels of his boots thoughtfully, glancing to Volstagg and then Hogan, neither of which said anything. Shrugging, he stepped up beside Sif, "Is she going to be slowing you down forever? She's young, we were once too. Time is necessary for any warrior of any trade, and Loki is training her. Give it time. Hermione will likely be a talent among seiðr users."
Sif said nothing else before turning her back on them and wandering down the halls and back towards the training arenas. Thor departed in the opposite direction.
A loud grumbling sound echoed from behind Fandral, and he turned to gaze back at Volstagg.
"Sorry, I'm hungry,"
He shook his head and cocked his hip, "You're always hungry."
The three turned and looked between one another before deciding it would be best to give their prince some time to himself, and instead, they made a healthier choice to go after the only female of their motley crew.
In the heart of the lush forest behind the magnificent city of Ásgarðr, Loki stood with regal composure, his emerald eyes shimmering with a hint of mischief and his dark, tousled hair cascading like a waterfall of midnight. Before him, the petite, wide-eyed Hermione stood with a determination that belied her age. They were surrounded by ancient, towering trees that whispered secrets of the cosmos.
Over the past two years, Loki had taken it upon himself to teach Hermione the intricacies of seiðr. The ethereal energy that flowed through Ásgarðr's roots would help her understand the seiðr that flowed through her. She was progressing steadily, mastering the basics of meditation and how to summon her seiðr into her tiny hands, forming a shimmering orb of energy. These things that she could do no effortlessly, and with that—Oh! Today was a momentous day! For it marked the beginning of the next phase of her training.
Loki extended his hand, and a swirl of emerald and golden sparks danced around his fingertips. "Hermione," he began, his voice a melodic blend of wisdom and playfulness, "Today, we delve into the heart of your power. Your seiðr is like a river, coursing through you, waiting to be channelled. But it must be harnessed, controlled."
Hermione nodded earnestly, her small hand trembling slightly as she touched Loki's outstretched fingers. Instantly, her seiðr responded, spiralling out of her in a brilliant display of indigo and bronze hues.
Pleased at how easy it came to her, Loki carefully stepped back before spreading his arms wide, his mischievous eyes gleaming with anticipation. "First," he declared, "I want you to draw upon your seiðr and let it spread out as far as you can." With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a delicate, silk-like cloth from thin air, much to Hermione's amazement. "But before you do, we must deprive you of one of your senses. Any guesses which, my dear?"
"Sight?" she ventured, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice.
"Exactly," he purred, holding out his hand. "Now, come."
Hermione approached him tentatively, her heart racing with equal measures of curiosity and excitement. As Loki draped the cloth over her eyes and secured it carefully behind her head, she felt a wave of vulnerability wash over her. "Speak true, Hermione," Loki whispered, his voice soft and reassuring. "Can you see?"
"No, I can't," she replied, her fingers reaching up and trailing against the cloth.
"Excellent," Loki stepped away from her. "Now, here you will focus on your seiðr. I would say it is different for everyone, but there is a constant flow. Feel it flowing through you, and let it extend past your fingertips as far as you can and further still."
Hermione did as she was told, her mind buzzing with anticipation. As she drew upon her seiðr, she felt a surge of power coursing through her veins, branching outwards in all directions. With each passing moment, her senses became sharper, more sensitive, and more attuned to the world around her. It was as if she were seeing the world made up of bright light or energy. Feeling it with her entire body rather than just seeing it with her eyes.
Hermione felt a familiar warmth and tingling beneath her fingertips as she embraced the power surging within her. This feeling she'd come to know was hers, all hers, and she delighted in how it tickled the buds of her fingertips. It was a sensation she had grown accustomed to during her meditative training, but this time, it was different. Prior to this moment, she'd only ever carefully contained her seiðr, going no further than creating an orb of physical energy to show her parents. Today, with Loki's guidance, she was about to let her seiðr roam freely, and the thought of it made her heart race.
Hermione took a careful breath, steady, cold, listening to the hum of her seiðr. It was easier to hear it here in the forest. She wondered why and made a note to ask Loki about it later. Shivering at a sudden whisper of wind, the darkness behind the cloth had carefully concealed her sight. She wouldn't say it was scary. It wasn't. The darkness was not something she was afraid of. She didn't like clowns; they were scary. However, she could illuminate the darkness with her seiðr, so there had never been a need to fear it. No, now, she recognised the darkness as friendly, and her seiðr pulled on the darkness around her, and Hermione held it in her hands with ease as the darkness glowed and shone more brightly with the help of her seiðr. Oh, it wasn't darkness to Loki, though, only to Hermione as she toiled with her seiðr blindly.
The next step would be a challenge. Loki asked her to release her seiðr and let it roam freely. Taking a deep breath, Hermione focused on the feel of her seiðr as it edged closer to freedom, tentative in its exploration, curious, and cautious. So very cautious. Even in its desperation for play, it reached out with almost reticent tendrils, feeling ever so anxious in its first brushes of questing. She could sense the energy extending from her fingers, but it was tentative and kept returning to her. Her seiðr seemed shy, not sure if it should stray too far.
"Mn, my seiðr doesn't want to work. It feels like my seiðr is scared," Hermione was ashamed to admit her seiðrs shortcomings. She was almost glad that she couldn't see the look of disappointment on Loki's face. Well, she couldn't be sure that he was disappointed in her, but she felt disappointed.
Loki was silent for a moment, assessing both Hermione and her seiðr. He spoke from beside her, his voice calm and reassuring. "No matter what, I am here. Do you believe you are unsafe?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment before answering, considering his choice of words. She thought of how she felt. It was dark with the cloth over her eyes, but Loki was with her, and the forest was bright and lively, even if she could not see it from behind the blindfold. She could hear the birds twittering, the leaves rustling, the wind gossiping, and- "No." Hermione was not afraid; she was safe, and Loki made her feel safe. He was with her and would protect her, even if the forest was dark and scary and the creatures unfriendly, even if there was silence, and she could not make out a breath of sound, Loki was with her, and she trusted him.
"Good. If you, for whatever reason, feel unsafe, you are to tell me immediately. Am I understood?" Loki asked.
Hermione nodded. Her trust in Loki was unwavering, even as a blindfold obstructed her vision. She felt comforted by his words, and with his guidance, she summoned the courage required to let her seiðr wander comfortably. As it extended further from her fingertips, she felt a familiar rush, exhilarating; her seiðr moved along the forest floor and up the length of nearby trees, feeling more grounded and alive than ever before. There was, the briefest of moments, where Hermione thought she heard whispering, words she couldn't quite make out, from somewhere too far to reach.
Lost in the surge of sudden inquisitiveness of her seiðr, Hermione felt the world around her more vividly than she could ever recall before. There was a heartbeat, a literal heartbeat! The wind, it wasn't just blowing, it was breathing... life, all around her, and she could see it glowing, feel it pulsating, and-
"Hermione!"
Jolted out of her reverie, Hermione felt hands on her shoulders. Grounded. Her heart was racing, and she found herself breathless and feeling lightheaded. Had she stopped breathing?
"You are here with me, Hermione. The seiðr in the forest is sentient and can be quite overwhelming. You mustn't let it pull you under without your say so."
She wasn't quite sure what that meant, but she got the gist of it. She brought her hand up to Loki's, where it rested on her shoulder. She felt the dizzy spell let up, and a cool brush of wind teased at her hair. Thankful for Fulla's foresight, tying it back. Hermione could focus again. She recognised now that the forest they stood in was flush with seiðr that was very much alive and had the most playful air about it. Swirling energies all around her pulled and pushed along her own seiðr.
"Well done,"
Everything around her had finally come to a halt, and she felt natural and at ease with the once-overwhelming energies. It felt... beautiful.
"The next step will be a bit more difficult. We are going to play a game."
"A game?"
Loki smiled. Whether she recognised it or not, his pupil had always been naturally skilled in locating him. Which, for Loki, was quite a feat. Considering even Heimdal had trouble seeing him at times. Loki was certain that this was unique to Hermione's seiðr, something natural and that she was born with, which was all the more curious and equally just as impressive. A Miðgardian who had been born with the ability to feel out an Ásgarðrian, how peculiar. "Whether you realise it or not, your seiðr has always had a way of finding me."
Hermione tilted her head in a stupor, wanting to understand but not catching what he meant.
His eyes twinkled mischievously as he gazed playfully down at her. "That means you have the innate ability to feel seiðr, my dear," he explained. "When you are at home, there is a feeling, is there not?"
She nodded, recalling when she was at home and longed to be here, in Ásgarðr. The feeling was familiar, but it was something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Trying to think back, to remember what she had felt. What was it? She had felt it strongly for so long, and then it faded, or, no, it became usual to her. She'd begun to recognise it without realising she was. The first time she had been fully aware of what it was she was feeling was when a chill trailed up along her spine, and a burning sensation heated her from the inside out; ice and fire, both at their most extreme temperatures, came to her, and she felt, "Red," she whispered.
Loki's chuckle echoed softly through the clearing, no longer from beside her but all around her. A sound like velvet caressing the darkness. With effortless grace, he walked silently around Hermione; his boots did not sound on the soft ground he trod lightly upon. "So you recognise auras and seiðr," he remarked, his voice filled with a lofty mixture of awe and wonderment. "You are young yet unnaturally talented in your abilities. It is truly remarkable."
Hermione felt a ripple of delight at Loki's words, her heart swelling with joy at the praise of her skills, however innately acquired they were.
With a wave of his hand, Loki created two clones, solid illusions with just enough of his seiðr to jostle and confuse his protégé. Such clones could fool even the most talented of Ásgarðian warriors, his brother included. He would see to it that such deceptions would not deceive Hermione. "Find me," he instructed, his voice trickling with mischief.
"Without your sight," Loki Two added from a spot behind Hermione, his voice teasing and playful.
Loki Three switched places with Loki One, their movements fluid and agile as they danced around her in a mesmerising display of dexterity.
Hermione's seiðr instinctively reached out for Loki, but he easily sidestepped her seiðr, watching the trails of wispy bronze chase after the indigo tendrils. She was young, and Loki acknowledged such more to himself. As she grew, her seiðr would cease its predominantly visible nature. She would be able to hide it from everyone, himself included, if he had his way. Not sure what he was after, Loki recognised that he genuinely wanted to train her properly in his craft, perhaps because, unlike those of Ásgarðr, she had an unwavering faith in him that he couldn't help but find endearing.
The three Lokis, cunning and elusive as ever, danced around her, causing Hermione to search and seek them out constantly. It wasn't meant to upset her, truly.
Loki had only a single warning that came at the sight of a lone tear born of frustration slipping past her blindfold before her seiðr burst out like a solar flare, enveloping the entire clearing where they stood. It would come to him later that anyone with even the most basic ability to perceive the use of seiðr had felt this outbreak of uninhibited seiðr, but at this very moment, Loki could only watch in fascination as her energy flared up all around her. His eyes dilated from the brightness, startled by the sheer force of her raw abilities. Finally forced to close his eyes as her light washed over him, a wave of intense emotion rushing through his body, reaching out fervently for his own seiðr. It was as if the very fabric of reality was being torn asunder by the sheer force of her seiðr in its frantic search for him.
As the energy dissipated, Hermione lowered her hands, breathing shallow and uneven. She could feel a heady rush of seiðr that left her feeling both inspirited and sapped of all her energy. She took a careful step forward, her legs shaky, her body still quivering with the hum of her seiðr. It was as if she had tapped into a wellspring of seiðr that had been dormant within her, but the well was sealed up just as she'd touched along it. Another shaky step forward, blind but true, she reached out a hand and smiled.
Loki opened his eyes, blinking away the spots in his vision. He felt a weight on his hand and turned his gaze down in stunned silence at the tiny hand now holding his. He felt a sudden surge of empathy towards her. It was a terrifyingly sentimental feeling that would doubtlessly be his undoing in the future. A future he couldn't fathom right this moment, nor did he care to consider.
"I found you," Hermione murmured, her voice filled with relief and triumph.
Loki smiled down at her after a moment of emotional surrender. That particular bout of seiðr had probably called to the attention of all of Ásgarð's mages. Well, he couldn't say he was too surprised. It was untrained, untapped, and controlled by a child's emotional outbursts. "Well done, my protégé," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "You did exceptionally well." She certainly had. While she had no dominion over her seiðr, expelling it out or even drawing it back in, she had an unparalleled instinct. However, he doubted very much so that she recognised it as such. Still, intuition could, at times, prove far more helpful than planned control could. Loki settled his hand on her head, then dropped it to the back of her hair, where his fingers carefully removed the silk cloth. "Very good," he repeated the praise, her eyes adjusting again to the light before she smiled up at him, toothy and pleased with herself. Loki looked down at his young protégé, Hermione, and gave her an impish grin, "Now," Loki said, clapping his hands together. "Let's move on to something simple, applying movement, motion, to your seiðr. All you have to do is mould your seiðr and fire it at me, with no intent other than for me to catch it and return it to you."
Hermione looked at him quizzically. "We're playing catch?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.
"If that's what you'd like to call it, then yes."
Loki watched her face light up with excitement.
"What about Hide and Seek? Are we done with that?" she asked, bouncing up and down on her toes.
Loki's expression softened slightly as he looked at her. "We'll run that exercise at the start of each lesson until you can instinctively feel the approach of anyone with even a modicum of seiðr from the other side of the forest," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But for now, let's focus on this."
Hermione nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing, those free to do so, at least.
Loki chuckled, kneeling to her eye level. "With this exercise, we shall use your seiðr to target both a stationary and moving target. We will start simple: I will not move anywhere and only catch what you throw my way. Then, once you have grown comfortable with that, the game will change from catch to target practice, and I will no longer be stationary. Tell me, what is the goal of this exercise, Hermione?"
Teetering back and forth on the balls of her feet, she grinned, "The goal is to shape my seiðr into a ball and throw it at you."
"Very good; however, it's important to remember that intent is crucial in using ones seiðr. You must intend for me to catch it without harm. Seiðr obeys your will, but it also senses your intent."
Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to grasp the concept. "Intent?"
Loki nodded, his eyes locking onto hers. "Intent is the thought and emotion behind your actions, the purpose in your heart. It guides your seiðr, making it do what you truly want."
With newfound understanding, Hermione focused on forming her seiðr into an orb, her tiny fingers weaving the ethereal threads of magic as she usually would. The air shimmered as the sphere of pure energy floated before her, its indigo colours swirling with the familiar cloud of bronze dusting, always appearing to Hermione like a miniature galaxy in her hand.
Loki nodded approvingly. "You've mastered that part, young one." Standing, he stepped away from her until he stood opposite her in the clearing. "Now, try to send it my way. Imagine it is like a regular ball, and throw it to me."
Hermione took a deep breath, her small chest rising and falling as she concentrated. She released the seiðr orb with a hard throw no different than when she played catch at school or with her dad, but the sphere wavered, quivered, and finally dissipated into a sparkling mist of seiðr before getting halfway across the clearing. Frustration clouded Hermione's face as she looked at Loki. "It didn't work."
Loki smiled at her obvious pouting. "It's alright, Hermione. Seiðr is a capricious force, especially for beginners. No matter your natural talent, you will still need to learn to do certain things before it becomes second nature to you. We'll try again. Imagine your orb flying straight to me like a shooting star."
They repeated the process, but the result was the same - the seiðr orb struggled to maintain its form and veered off course before fading into a sparkling nothingness. Hermione's lower lip trembled, on the brink of tears. "I can't do it, Loki."
Thinking carefully of the little girl he was training and how to best move forward with the lesson, Loki moved in closer before placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. His emerald eyes locked onto her doe brown ones. So very innocent and trusting. "Little one, remember, seiðr reflects your intent. Let us try a different approach. Close your eyes, visualise the orb." He released her shoulder and stepped back once more, watching an orb form in front of her without her hands holding it, securing it, "Feel it in your heart, Hermione. I want you to think of it slicing through the air to reach me. Knowing it won't hurt me. Trust that I will catch it." This time, Loki watched as it streaked through the air, a radiant comet of seiðr heading directly toward him. He reached out his hand, capturing the shimmering magic within his palm. The orb pulsated with a gentle warmth, a testament to Hermione's intent. He chanced a glance in her direction; her eyes were still closed. "Open your eyes, Hermione."
She did as instructed. For a moment, she didn't process the orb in his hand. It took a second when she focused on the orb, the glowing sparkle of stardust that he held, her seiðr... Hermione's eyes lit up in sheer joy.
"Well done, Hermione. Remember what you did, and let's try it a few more times. With time and practice, you'll master this art just as you've mastered moulding your seiðr."
Hermione's face lit up as she felt a stronger connection to her seiðr. In the enchanted forest, Loki threw the seiðr towards her, and she caught it with ease before focusing on returning it to him under the dappled sunlight.
"Now that you're getting the hang of it, we can move on to the next step," said Loki wisely. "Seiðr is a powerful art that demands precision, control, and, most importantly, focus. You must learn to let it flow intrinsically while compelling it to do your bidding; otherwise, it will become unpredictable and unstable, which can be very dangerous."
Hermione listened attentively. Everything she needed to know, Loki would teach her.
"Fortunately, your seiðr has always had a way of recognising your wants and needs," Loki continued. "As you grow familiar with your seiðr, you will find it is not a tool to be used but an extension of yourself. To truly master it, you must learn to work in harmony with it."
Hermione nodded, taking in every word.
"You will learn to approach your seiðr with the respect and reverence it deserves. In return, your seiðr will never let you down, Hermione." He said this while maintaining eye contact, making sure she heard every word he spoke. "This time, you'll be aiming at a moving target, and your goal is to stun it," Loki said calmly and reassuringly. "Remember, water flows freely until it becomes frozen and immovable. Similarly, you must learn to let your seiðr flow but also control it when necessary."
After successfully mastering the art of shaping her seiðr into an orb and throwing it so that he could catch it, he was excited to see how she did with the prospect of moving targets. Hermione's enthusiasm was addicting, and Loki was fascinated by her continued growth. He had a mischievous glint in his emerald eyes as he jumped up and out of the clearing, perching himself on a branch where she could see him. The gentle rustling of leaves from the wind tickled their ears. "Are you ready?"
Hermione nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with determination, and she bounced excitedly from one foot to the next. "I'm ready!"
Loki gestured, giving a small wave of his hand, and the air around them seemed to shimmer with his seiðr. One by one, three identical copies of Loki appeared right before Hermione's eyes. When blindfolded, she hadn't seen them. This time, he watched her eyes widen as she looked from one copy to the next. They moved about languidly, not in any hurry, but supplying movement all the same. They were perfectly detailed illusions, indistinguishable from the real Loki. "These, my dear Hermione, will serve as your moving targets. Your task is to send your seiðr to hit them. Remember, the intent is still vital to your success. Your aim is not to harm but to stun, to make immobile."
Hermione's gaze flickered between the three Lokis as they continued to circle her with no discernible pattern to their movement. Her heart was pounding with excitement and a touch of nervousness. "I'll do my best, Loki."
Loki maintained a safe distance from the illusions, perched out of the way of her training where he could watch closely but not be in any danger. He knew Hermione needed to build her confidence and control over her seiðr, and he didn't want her to fear causing him harm. "Take a deep breath, Hermione," Loki advised. "You've got this."
With her tiny hand outstretched, Hermione began to channel her seiðr. She concentrated on the image of the Loki clone before her, watching him stroll about as she visualised the orb forming before sending it flying with exquisite precision. The orb, now a radiant sphere of seiðr, obeyed her command and darted toward the illusion. But, as it neared its target, it swerved off course and dissipated. The clone gazed back at it before sauntering off. Hermione's shoulders slumped, and she sighed in frustration. "I missed."
Loki's voice drifted down from the tree, soothing and encouraging. "It's alright, Hermione. Remember, seiðr requires patience and practice. Just try again. This time, trust your instincts."
Determined not to let Loki down, Hermione closed her eyes again, her tiny fingers quivering as she reshaped her seiðr. She envisioned the orb hitting the target with unwavering precision, her intent clear and focused. With her resolve hardened, she released the seiðr, and this time, it soared through the air, tracing a graceful bend as it chased the Loki illusion before striking him with a gentle burst of light. The Loki stilled, frozen from a blast of chilling ice that encased him. A triumphant grin spread across Hermione's face as she stared at the Lokicicle. "I did it, Loki! I hit the target!"
Loki's amused applause echoed through the forest, "You're not done yet, Hermione. Try hitting the other two."
Hermione practised her seiðr targeting skills for another hour, sending her orbs flying with precision and intent. Each time she improved, the clones got a little faster, never out-moving her eyes, just providing enough of a challenge that she continued pushing herself. Her control grew stronger, and her confidence soared higher. Loki offered guidance, his presence reassuring as he observed her progress.
Loki recognised that she was getting used to the feeling of throwing around her seiðr. That was good. Great even. What wasn't good was her footwork. It was, for lack of better words, dreadful. He would perhaps teach her proper footwork another day, another lesson. So invested in her seiðr, Loki thought that perhaps there was room for other lessons every now and then. Lessons that his family didn't need to be privy to. After all, it would do her no favours should all her secrets be known. Loki eyed her with consideration. She was in possession of a wild seiðr, just waiting to be realised and released. Much the same as he had been a thousand years ago or so.
"Well done, Sundrop," he said, grinning ear to ear as she frowned in his direction, not caring for his insistence in using either her mother's or father's nicknames for her. If it bothered her so, he would stop, but the flush on her cheeks amused him so much he simply couldn't bring himself to cease. "Keep at it; this time, without the clones. I want you to make it so that I can't catch it." He recognised that he was changing the dynamics of their training slightly, but certainly, this would be no cause for concern. "That is your end goal, Hermione, don't let me catch it." As he said this, he watched her form another orb with her seiðr.
As the hours passed, Loki led Hermione through a series of similar exercises, teaching her to manipulate her seiðr with the very precision and grace he himself used. Under Loki's tutelage, the forest around them became Hermione's playground as she became increasingly familiar with the concept of controlling and weaving her seiðr. The trees rustled their approval, and the birds sang in harmony with her seiðr as if acknowledging the burgeoning power of this young sorceress-in-training. Hermione's eyes sparkled with delight and wonder, her laughter like a tinkling bell.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows through the ancient woods, but Hermione's energy remained undiminished. "Hermione, you have the potential to be a great sorceress, perhaps even rivalling the power of Ásgarðr's finest. But remember, with great force and power comes an even greater accountability. Use your seiðr wisely, for it can shape destinies."
Hermione nodded, her eyes reflecting the insight she had gained under Loki's guidance. Words she would not allow herself to forget. She understood the gravity of her gift and the importance of her mentor's words.
The day had been filled with intensive seiðr training, and Hermione's youthful exuberance had finally given way to the weariness of a mortal child. As the sun dipped below the horizon, Loki decided to bring their lesson to a close. "You've done splendidly Today. Your control over your seiðr is maturing, and your intent, while only budding, will become second nature to you in time. Seiðr is as much about mastery as it is about understanding your heart and core. In time, you will understand all you hold within."
"How do I do that?" Hermione asked with a stifled yawn.
"Lots of hard work and meditation," was Loki's reply.
Hermione sighed heavily; it always seemed to come down to meditation. In the heart of the ancient forest, amid the whispers of the trees, brooks, and flowers, whispers that Hermione could still only vaguely hear muffled and just out of reach, the two began returning to the palace. Holding Hermione's tiny hand in his all the way back to the grand palace of Ásgarðr.
The palace was a magnificent sight, its towering spires gleaming with golden hues in the twilight of the divided sky. Hermione half skipped and half pulled on Loki's hand as they approached the dinner hall. The guards wasted no time opening the opulent and majestic doors. They found Frigga and Thor seated at a table loaded with various fares.
The dining hall in the grand castle was adorned with wooden beams and tapestries depicting ancient Norse legends. The elongated table, carved from dark oak, was laden with a sumptuous feast fit for royalty. The centrepiece was a roasted boar, its golden-brown skin glistening, surrounded by platters of carved meats, steaming venison stew, and hearty barley porridge.
Hermione released his hand and ran over to take the seat to Frigga's left, Loki marvelling at how his mother reached out her hand and placed it lovingly atop Hermione's head before tucking a messy curl behind the girl's ear. All the while, Hermione reached over for a piece of bread and some of the creamy cheese selections. Picking at a bowl with roasted nuts and an assortment of traditional dried fruits. Loki sat beside Hermione before piling various food atop her plate in small quantities. He was not Thor and would not dare to overwhelm her with too much food as his brother often tried to do.
Hermione watched him place a spoonful of veggies on her plate, "what's that?"
"An array of root vegetables, such as carrots, parsnips, and turnips, have been roasted until tender and drizzled with a sweet honey glaze. No complaints, eat."
Frigga delicately tucked her smile behind her fingers, hiding her amusement from her youngest.
As Loki began adding to her plate, he told her of the dishes he was placing on the dish for her. There was roasted pheasant seasoned with fragrant herbs and spiced lamb roasted on a spit. Carving slices of it and laying them out for Hermione to eat.
Hermione reached out for her goblet, a rich and fruity nectar that had quickly become her favourite among Ásgarðraian drinks and one of the only she was of age to drink.
Loki deftly placed an assortment of dishes onto Hermione's plate.
She eyed the familiar turnips with disdain, her previous encounters with them less pleasant. "Turnips, Loki?" she inquired, wrinkling her nose at the vegetable.
He chuckled, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. "I know you're not a fan, but they're good for you. Give them another chance. Who knows, you might like them how they've been prepared Today."
Hermione hesitated but eventually took a small bite, her expression turning into a slight frown before she stabbed another turnip and took another bite. The honey glaze was far more agreeable to her than the regular charred roasted turnips the table usually had on a plate.
Loki forced down a knowing smile as he picked up a silver bowl and ladled a scoop of mushroom and barley soup. Placing it beside her plate with a spoon, he grabbed another bowl. He added some of the fresh cubbed cheese, those of the softer and creamier variety, as he knew they were Hermione's favourite, adding a small scoop of berry compote with whole wild moonberries and chopped-up ghostpears slipping off the bites of cheese. Freshly baked bread was placed beside the bowl, and as Loki looked at the bowl of fresh fruits, pulled from it a silvery translucent ghostpear and placed it down beside Hermione's goblet of Ambrosia nectar.
"I still don't like them, but they are soft when bite into them, and the sauce is sweet, which I like a lot." She said this, all the while taking another bite of the turnips.
Loki chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. Hermione reached across the table and picked up a Tart, spooning a dollop of clotted cream atop the small, tangy, and sweet treat. She thought herself sneaky, doing so while Loki wasn't looking, too busy conversing with Thor over the right amount of food to pile onto a growing child's plate. Needless to say, Loki and Thor were on polar opposite sides of the debate. Finishing off the tart in three big bites, she reached out and took another. The sweet pastries, with their golden crusts and starberry fillings, were too tempting to resist.
Loki was not, however, as ignorant as she thought him to be. Noticing each time she stole away a sweet from the silver platter. "Hermione, you mustn't overindulge in sweets. Your mother wouldn't be pleased if she learned of your sweet thievery."
"Then don't tell her,"
"You are asking me to lie to your mother?"
"You're the god of lies!"
"Even a god of lies knows not to lie to a mother; they've ways of knowing."
Locking eyes with Loki, Hermione took another scoop of clotted cream and dropped it with a splat atop the tart before biting into it. Chewing the treat, she swallowed it before speaking, "Last one."
He raised a brow at that but didn't argue with her. Instead, he pulled a small bowl closer to her and watched her eyes light up at the fresh strawberries. Loki watched her tiny fingers disappear into the metal bowl before extracting a berry and popping it into her mouth. This repeated a few more times between bites of venison, boar and hen.
Across the table, Frigga observed the exchange with a carefully veiled amusement. Silently monitoring her youngest as he played the role of guardian to the spirited young Hermione as they enjoyed their lavish meal. Thor was enjoying the mountain of fare he'd piled atop his plate. Showing no sign that he was even aware of the exchange across from him.
"Your sweet tooth should be excavated before it takes over your entire diet."
By this point, Hermione had opted to ignore him as she ate another sweet berry.
"Loki, I trust your training went well today?"
Loki nodded, his demeanour respectful. "Indeed, Mother. Hermione has shown remarkable progress in her training."
Thor chimed in with a hearty laugh, his voice as thunderous as his presence. "That's fantastic to hear, little one! I'm eager to witness your magical prowess." Hermione blushed, wiping her hands on the cloth napkin before moving closer to Frigga. When the All-Mother lifted her arm, Hermione wasted no time nestling into the Queen's side. ThougQueen'sand Thor both watched with similar looks of curiosity; neither spoke on the Queen's behalf.
It's not much longer when Frigga starts to feel the ebb of fatigue in Hermione. Her once meticulously styled curly brown hair, now a tousled mess from her demanding day, spilt freely around her shoulders. Frigga's gentle fingers carded carefully through Hermione's hair.
After a moment's silence, when she felt certain that Hermione had drifted off to sleep in her weariness, Frigga turned her attention to Loki. Her initial warmth was replaced by a concerned sternness directed towards her youngest, her fingers still playing with the messy coils. She cast a reproachful yet concerned glance in Loki's direction, her voice a gentle but firm whisper, "Loki, my son, look at her. You've kept her out for far too long. She was so worn out that she couldn't even keep awake long enough to finish her meal. Hermione is still a mortal, with all the fragility that entails."
Loki, caught in a web of mixed emotions, experienced a twinge of guilt as he saw the peaceful vulnerability in Hermione's sleeping form. He offered his mother a sincere and apologetic nod, acknowledging her words as true. "You're right, Mother. I may have been too engrossed in her training, blinded to her physical limitations. I shall ensure she gets the rest she needs."
Frigga's gaze softened, and she looked down at Hermione, her heart swelling with a protective affection that transcended words. "Just remember, Loki, she's not only an apprentice of the seiðr arts; first and foremost, she is a young soul with dreams and hopes. Her potential is great, but her spirit must be nurtured as tenderly as her seiðr abilities." She gently brushed a strand of Hermione's hair away from her face, her fingers as delicate as a whisper.
Loki took one last sip from his wine, still lost in thought as he considered his mother's words. It had been a long day filled with much to consider, and the young mortal at the centre of his thoughts was now lost to the realm of dreams. With his characteristic grace, Loki rose from his seat, his eyes reflecting an affectionate twinkle as they cast upon his mother. Moving towards her, his steps were measured and purposeful. "Dear mother," Loki's words carried a heartfelt tone, "I will take Hermione to her chambers now, where she can rest and flourish."
Frigga's gaze met Loki's, her eyes soft with tenderness. She nodded, giving him a warm smile. "Go then, Loki, and ensure your young pupil has a peaceful slumber."
With a tender kiss on Frigga's cheek, Loki turned his attention to Hermione. His fingers brushed a few stray curls away from her forehead before he gently cradled her in his arms. She was light and delicate, her chestnut hair a cascade of unruly curls. With a graceful stride, Loki began making his way to Hermione's room; the seiðr-lit torches in the palace corridors glowed a delicate golden hue as they passed. When they reached Hermione's room, Loki carefully placed her in her bed and tucked the soft blankets around her. The room was bathed in the gentle glow of the divided sky's moonlight, casting a serene aura around the slumbering child.
Lingering for a moment, watching her with a soft smile that betrayed his mischievous nature, the moon's silver beams illuminating her features. "Sleep well, Hermione," he murmured. "Dream of the wonders that await you, and may the Norns watch over you until you wake." Loki quietly left the room with a final caress of her cheek, his silhouette fading into the shadows.
End Part 2/6