𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄 ━ loki laufeyson¹·¹

1│LESSONS IN MAGIC

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ʟᴇssᴏɴs ɪɴ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ꒱


❝ THE MOST DANGEROUS
THING A SORCERER CAN
SAY IS 'I CANNOT' ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

A S G A R D

Frigga had been noticeably absent from her sons' presentation of the Star. She had known the last one, Aðalbjörg. In fact, simply claiming to 'know' of her was an insult to the woman's memory; Frigga had viewed her as a daughter, just as she'd seen Hela. Aðalbjörg's death had been just as devastating to her as if she had borne the girl herself. When Odin had broken the news of the outcome of the battle to her, he had presented her with another babe, this one small, blue and squalling. She suspected, in part, that his entrusting of Loki to her had been a consolation prize of sorts as she had lost both of her daughters— one cast out, the other left for dead.

The Allmother was not blind to her husband's machinations; he viewed the Nine Realms as a particularly complex chess game and everyone— even her— were pieces to arrange. There were times where she thought that she very nearly hated him. As bitter and resenting of her husband as she could be, though, Frigga would never turn away a helpless child. Like with all the children he had placed before her— whether biologically or not— she couldn't help but feel a surge of protectiveness towards him, knowing that he, too, was a pawn.

But Frigga knew that her feelings were insignificant in the grand scheme of things. It was better to be at the right hand of the man who played God than at his feet, so she endured what she must to keep her position. At least here, she had some control over her children's fates and could try to prepare them as adequately as she could for their future roles in the universe. And, despite it all— the pain, the betrayal, the heartbreak— she did love Odin, as convoluted and complicated as it was. She would never dream of betraying him herself, even with everything he put her through (and he certainly deserved it.)

In this one instance, though— when the newest Star had been brought before the Allfather— she let her emotions get the best of her. Frigga refused to be present for what would be the beginning of the end for the girl. She knew it was inevitable; one day soon, Odin would ask her to train the Star, but just this once she could not bear to sentence the girl to her fate. If she had known, however, the plans her son had in store that would usurp his father's control over her, she might have changed her mind.

As expected, the Star had not even been present in the palace for a day when he approached her. It was that very night, in fact. She was on their balcony, looking out at all of Asgard spread before her, as was her ritual before they turned in for the night. Unusually, he joined outside, placing his hands on the balcony railing as he stood next to her. He respected her space, knowing that they weren't quite as affectionate with each other as they had been when they'd been young— and even then, it had been less than the average newlywed.

They were silent for several long moments as Frigga gazed out towards the end of the realm where the water fell off the edge. Her eyes caught sight of the Watchman's Tower at the end of the Rainbow Bridge where Heimdall faithfully observed the galaxies for them. Odin's eye, on the other hand, was trained on the stars above where their newest Star had lived before it had fallen from the heavens. He knew that among those pinpricks of light was Midgard, the feats of the Asgardians all but forgotten myths now. Another was Helheim, where he had exiled his daughter to her dominion of darkness.

He did not fear those tiny spots of light, for he had travelled to many of them during his youth. He knew the beings who lived on the planets, had experienced their cultures and traditions. It is much harder to be afraid of something that one was familiar with, the known factor erasing any trepidation that the undefined might create.