Young Writers Society

J.M.J

A name for a life, was that too much to ask? He didn’t know. he wasn’t sure of anything… anything… anymore… anymore? he remembered the feeling of a- a… hand? Fist? around his throat, the slowly fading… the painful desperation… the… thrashing, gasping… He remembered dying, which was strange, but he didn’t remember who killed him, which was stranger, he didn’t know who the man crying over him was… big, hopeless eyes, a life was, he didn’t know him, although, he might’ve… before? at some point? When? He didn’t know… himself? A life, for a name. A life for a story, what was life if not a collection of stories? And what were stories if not a collection of lies?

He stared at the figure in the green cloak, he didn’t know him, but he figured that he should, the man had dark hair, and a thick horned circlet of onyx and gold. All other details were lost. Were his eyes grey or green? He couldn’t remember. That was all that he knew of him. The crying man leaned over his corpse, clutching onto him as if he would vanish, he began to weep, which… seemed strange. Pulling him into his arms, the crying man put his head the to- his? - the corpses? chest, searching for a heartbeat perhaps? He buried his face in the empty shell. If he spoke, it went unheard.

he wasn’t sure if he was still alive, the way that he was before at least, he remembered dying.A story, for a life. A life is a story, yes? Or no? never! Perhaps? I don’t want to be alone. He looked his brother in the eyes. what did I do… and thus? Why am I lost? Why did I lose? Why do we always lose? The dagger clattered to the ground as he fell, glinting in the artificial light, slipping from his death clasp as he struggled in a vain and selfish attempt to survive, but it only doomed him. He screamed in the darkness, but the figure was an illusion, and didn’t hear him.

Do you want to live?

NO. LEAVE

Do you want to die?

No. no…

A life, for a name. Is that too much to ask?

He saw himself and was dissatisfied, he was… what? A failure? A monster? A liar. Nothing. The world began to grow faded as it froze, he watched for a long moment as the man embraced his lost loved one, trying to etch every detail into his mind, even though he couldn’t recall any of them. Then the figure was real, do not fear me. The man was glowing, green threads of… life emanated from his projection, each one giving a glimpse into far off worlds,

I want to help you, but you need to trust me. He spoke softly, but with a voice that the soul knew well, but didn’t recognize. The figure approached the wisp of life time stood still as he walked, the soul was waiting for time to restart, for the world to take him to be judged, for Valhalla or Hel. He knew which army he would join, hush my weary thoughts. The glow was strangely sobering. It was bright, but peaceful, mystical even, the world vanished, and was replaced by light, green light. His light. Even time cannot stop death, even the worlds cannot stop the soul rot. He saw the figure sitting on a throne, but this time, it was not an illusion, he sat silently, thin, pallid, and haggard, his face was burned in with lines, lines of fear, of tears, but also of smiles. He… was content, even if he chose his burden, it was his. The soul did not know the fire that purified,

A life, for a name? The lost soul saw everything, every choice he could’ve made, and every choice he didn’t, he saw happier lives and sadder ones, he saw and he found his path lacking. But he didn’t understand what he saw.

Who are you? The soul asked,

“… Yggdrasil.” The figure responded slowly, somberly, but it was the words that he didn’t speak that were screaming.

How am I supposed to give you a name that I don’t even know? The soul asked,

“I know who you are.” Yggdrasil said,

Pardon? The soul said,

Yggdrasil smiled as he weaved together the realms that lay in his branches, but it was a mournful smile. “Well then, what do you choose?”

I… don’t want to be alone. The soul said finally, as he looked upon the golden throne of Yggdrasil, power, he thought, this was true power, the uncountable threads of time twisted and pulsed with evergreen light, forming the world tree itself, but the soul felt the covetousness turn to revulsion as he saw Yggdrasil’s eyes. He had green eyes. The eyes were deep, deeper than he had seen before, even deeper than his father’s, they were eyes that had held realms in their clover oceans, yet they were solitary oceans. What was the point of power if your kingdoms did not revere you? There was something else he saw in Yggdrasil’s eyes, but the soul was not ready to understand it.

“Very well.” Yggdrasil said, he turned his attention back to the threads and the soul suddenly realized that they weren’t glowing quite as brightly as before. The soul saw something else glowing, something that had been invisible in the brighter landscape; it was a small nugget of lime green light; it took the soul a moment to realize that the light was his name. His name floated away from him, and the soul screamed, like a bee stinging an enemy, only to die once it rips out the stinger and it pulls with it her internal organs, the name ripped away from the soul, it took with it everything that it had ever touched, pulling it along ripping it away.

He felt his identity fracture, his titles, his birthright, his family, his memories, until the soul had been stripped of everything that had made him separate from all the countless others of his kind throughout the world tree, stripped of his nurture, of his story, the soul floated helplessly above the ruins of the citadel. Who was he, without his name?

“You- tricked me!” The nameless soul said, more in shock and indignation that anger.

“Well, I said that you would have a life, I never that it would be the same one.” Yggdrasil said flippantly.

The soul was speechless, which only irritated him.

Yggdrasil frowned, the threads dimmed, light sprung from his fingertips, “I apologize for the lack of ceremony, this has been a lovely little chat but…” He shrugged and glanced at the dimming threads, “I am awfully busy, so, I name you Ikol.”

Yggdrasil tilted his head and Ikol felt very strange, something painfully hot began to pour through his being, he screamed as his soul shrank and molded, he contorted and bits and pieces of IKOL were snipped away so that it would fit the caste that he was being wrote into. He wanted to do one thing, get away. He pushed against the casing that surrounded him, the world tree vanished and there was only blackness. The air was thick and musty, the only movement was the flap of Ikol’s wings. Did he have wings before? What… what before? Strange. Ikol flew toward where the blackness turned into grey.

No one noticed the lone crow fly out from the tunnel and into the night.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Princess?” A maid called out hesitantly, she had only recently gotten the job and had been warned of the girl’s tricks. She knocked on the door softly.

“Who’s there?” A young female voice replied,

“Only a humble servant” she said quickly, not daring to give her name. “I have been sent to fetch you for the feast, milady.”

The maid responded turned the handle and slowly pushed open the heavy door. The room opened, the floor was polished stone, it was wide open and had much natural light, there was no glass in the windows, and the room had the feel of magic about it. There was a step that led down to a canopied bed, desks and shelving cluttered the room, they were filled with volumes and volumes of green leather-bound books. The maid gasped slightly, she had never seen so many books in one place before, she had always liked reading, she had practically memorized a book of heroic deeds that she often borrowed from a butler whose family was better off than hers, her heart fluttered at the thought of her… friend… well, she worked in the palace now, perhaps things went well she would be able to afford a proper marriage one day… the maid glanced forlornly at another stack of books, they were set down on the step and bound with a leather clasp, set directly next to a toy ship and matching carvings of warriors.

The maid became acutely aware of her mistake, she spun around wildly looking for the princess, she caught sight of movement in the corner of her eye, turning, her eyes fell upon the slip of a girl, she reached out and grabbed the maid’s wrist, the princess’ eyes glowed a mischievous green as she used her magic. The maid slumped and fell to the floor, her head cracking against the stone floor with a concerningly loud noise. The princess smiled and hoisted her satchel, they wouldn’t come looking for her for at least an hour, if they noticed she was gone in the first place.

She dispelled her window and instantly the room was filled with a powerful wind, it shoved its way into the warm and still bedroom and scattered pages of half dry ink around the room, the door slammed itself shut and she flinched, she hesitantly stepped out onto the terrace, the wind pulled at her hair and it stabbed at her cheeks like many little daggers, she shivered, but not because she was cold. The princess looked down at the ground, miles below, she took a step back, she glanced at the maid and a flurry of righteous anger filled her breast. She steeled her nerves and strode back into her bedroom, she walked toward her bed and crouched down, underneath was a rope made of bed sheets, not all of which were hers. She had read about it in a book, and figured that it was the best way to escape.

Although, in her stories, they didn’t live quite as high up. She gathered up her rope, it dragged across the stone floor and she carefully tied it to the hand rail before tossing it over the edge, she closed her eyes and stepped up to the handrail, she shook as she climbed on top of it, a gust of wind pulled one of her hands loose and she despite herself, whimpered a little, the wind lulled and she carefully crawled onto the outside of the railing. The linen rope rocked wildly in the wind. She grasped it like a lifeline, the thrill of adventure quickly overtaking her common sense, and the ever-beating need for validation thrummed with her heart beat.

She wrapped both her legs around the rope and then her remaining hand, she took a shaky breath and let herself slip, she held onto the rope with a death grip, even though it grew hot in her hands as she raced down, the wind whistled loudly in her ears, she glanced down at the quickly approaching ground and her breath caught in her throat, she constricted her grip with her legs and slowed to a stop, only about halfway down. She wasn’t afraid of heights; she was afraid of failing. Her hands ached and burned, the rope swung wildly in the wind, the princess closed her eyes and mentally berated herself, she should’ve just taken the stairs.

------------------------------------------------------

Ikol rested in a branch in a carefully pruned tree in the palace’s courtyard. He was becoming rather concerned as he watched a murder of crows settle down, or hunt for prey, there seemed to be many nests here, where was his own? And why was he drawn here? A crow landed in front of him, flapping her wings frantically and cawing. Ikol hopped back onto a farther branch, but the female crow simply hopped forward as well, anger in her eyes.

“I apologize madam, but I can’t seem to understand you.” Ikol replied, calmly retreating further into the tree.

Another crow began to pick up the firsts cry, and soon the murder had begun to swarm around Ikol. He took flight and the others did not follow, the wind picked up under his wings, allowing him to glide easily out of the courtyard, his mind swimming with thoughts. He was getting hungry, but it seemed like everywhere he stopped for a moment, something shooed him off. At the gates, there was a ruckus and many comes and goings, the guards quickly sent him away. At the stables, he tried to relax atop a stall, but a group of grubby stable boys took turns throwing rocks at him until he flew away. The smart thing to do would be to leave the palace, but Ikol felt something drawing him here, where was his nest? This place seemed familiar…

He flew around the side of the palace, the wind was stronger here, for no reason he could place, he ruffled his feathers and tilted his wings against the current, he spotted something writhing in the wind and dove to get a closer look. It was a molted ‘rope’ if I could be called that, of blankets. He was suddenly overwhelmed by Déjà vu; he dove lower and became face to face with a young Asgardian female. Ikol blinked, something felt… strange about this whole situation. The girl stared at him, wide eyed, Ikol steadied himself on the strong current, it was almost like he was hovering in place.

“Now then, what is going on here?” Ikol said to himself.

“You speaketh?” The girl squealed over the wind.

“No, I bark,” Ikol cawed, to hide his own shock, “of course I speak!”

“Art thou… magic?” She asked,

Ikol took a closer look at the girl, she wore green and black leather, obviously meant for high physical activity, the budging bag slung over her shoulder swayed in the wind, it was ridiculously small and the clasp threated to break at any moment . She had long black hair that spun wildly in the wind, her eyes were emerald green. Ikol frowned, she was pale for an Asgardian. “I am a little magic.”

“Canst, thou help me lower myself?” She asked, embarrassment obvious on her face.

Ikol, tilted his head, “Do you have wings hidden somewhere?”

“No.” she replied

“Then, probably not, why don’t you just… climb?” Ikol said

“I might fall.” She said,

“How very strange, well, it seems like you will eventually fall anyway.” Ikol said,

The girl looked suddenly very pained and she shook her head frantically, a large gust of wind swung the rope, she clutched the rope with white knuckles. “Can… Can you go get someone?” She said, losing all pretenses of formal speech.

Ikol tilted his head, “Who would you want me to get?”

The girl looked suddenly very dejected as she thought out her circumstances. “I… erm.” Her fear of death was suddenly overshadowed by her fear of her mother when she was caught like this, and instead of returning home a valiant hero, she would be nothing but mischief, again. She lowered a hand on the rope, despite the swinging, she began to lower herself, slowly.

Ikol cawed in encouragement, diving to keep eye level with the girl, although, she was not even pretending to pay attention to anything but the rope ahead of her. Another large gust of wind, she froze, Ikol let out a soft caw, and she began to methodically work her way down the homemade rope. Neither of them where sure how long it took for her to get down to the ground, but she eventually did, and it seemed to be far too slow and much too quick at the same time.

“Splendid.” Ikol said as landed next to her and watched the girl heaving for breath and blowing on her hands,” Now, what did you say your name was again?”

“I…” she gasped. “Am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.” She stood up and looked directly at him, her face gave off a well-practiced air of superiority.

“You’re like what? Two forty?” Ikol scoffed, once again being overwhelmed by déjà vu.

“Hmph.” Loki said crossing her arms, in a way that made Ikol pretty sure he guessed correctly.

Ikol gave a little bow, “I am Ikol the Retskcirt, it’s a pleasure.”

Loki glanced around, she tried to pull her hair out of her face, but the wind was strong.

“Why were you up there anyway?” Ikol asked,

Loki sniffed, “I’m going on a quest.”

Ikol flapped his wings and smirked behind his beak, “Does this quest happen to be the kind that must be finished before bed times?”

“No, it is the kind that you don’t return from until you have completed.” Loki replied, trying to sound as if she was quite experience in these matters, she turned away from him and set off at a brisk pace, away from the palace, and toward a smattering of trees that Ikol knew eventually turned to forest.

Taking flight, Ikol easily kept pace with the girl, he was intrigued, there was something that just felt wrong, about her, her mannerisms, even the way she walked. He had nothing better to do, in fact, this might be the best waste of time he could manage. Ikol followed, closely, but not so closely that she noticed, the trees began to become less spread out and Ikol made a sharp turn followed by a half dive so that he wouldn’t lose her once they reached the forest proper.

“Are you following me?” Loki asked turning around and stopping suddenly.

Ikol pulled up quickly and frantically beat his wings to stay afloat. “Caw.” He said dryly.

“You are! I demand that you stop.” Loki said,

“Of course, princess, I’ll leave a child alone, in a magical forest, while she is literally looking for trouble.” Ikol responded.

Loki gave him a stare that could’ve melted ice and began to walk forward again. Ikol glided over beside her and stared ahead, the forest was green, a deep, deep green that only powerful magic could possibly achieve, currently, they moved through a thin wood, golden light streamed through the branches, the in distance he heard soft tinkling laughter. If he turned left, he would come across a beaten path, long over grown with nettles, he would force his way through the spiny plants until he came across a glade with the ruins of a house, the door torn off the hinges and the fencing long eroded, the only thing truly intact was a stone well, he would walk up to the well and balance on a large stone to look inside, there he would stare at his reflection in the dark, algae filled depths until it began to swirl…

Make them love me as much as….

Ikol blinked, trying to grasp at whatever dark place he had pulled the daydream from, but all he felt was a raw gaping wound in his chest. Loki stopped, Ikol turned to her, there was a fork in the path. “Which way, milady?” one was a well-trodden path that led into the darker, less wholesome parts of the forest, while the other was a rough, unused path (if it could still be called that) lined with nettles.

“… Left I think…” She muttered.

“Ah- haha so that is what quest this is.” Ikol said as he flew in front of her, filled with dread, please, he thought, please not left, the empty hole in his soul throbbed, he was terrified of what might be found there.

“What do you mean?” Loki demanded,

“You wish to go to the wishing well, perhaps to ask for the favor of some prince.” Ikol said flippantly, but with forced confidence.

Annoyance crossed Loki’s face and she crossed her arms, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then, milady Loki, what quest is this, and perhaps… I could lend you a wing.” Ikol tilted his head and landed on a branch,

Loki looked him in the eyes, she looked conflicted, then she released the tension in her shoulders. “I… I am trying to… prove myself.”

“By…?” Ikol prodded,

“I don’t know, I figured that I would come upon it. That’s normally how it works.” Loki huffed.

“Then, I think I can be of some assistance. I know of a few quests; without owners I mean.” Ikol hopped up to Loki, he had intended to lie, but once he spoke, things came to mind, how strange. “Do you know any magic?”

“A… A little. Why would I believe you?” Loki said,

“Do you have any reason not to? Listen, if you truly desire adventure, since the fact that you, princess of Asgard weren’t brought out here in a suit of armor and a chariot and your method of escape, mean that you aren’t supposed to be here. So, if you don’t want to be scooped up like a disobedient chick, I suggest we get a move on, before they notice you are gone, milady. The path to the left is a dead end.” Ikol cawed

Loki bit her tongue and set off at a quick jog down the right path, Ikol followed her. The trees towered over the path, light drifted through their leaves, animals jittered, a pleasant breeze rushed through the forest, cousin to the gale assaulting the palace. Time passed. The woods darkened, and the sun lowered in the sky, Loki couldn’t keep up the jog, and eventually settled into a quick walk, Ikol had tried to edge her into a quicker pace, but the girl, despite being incredibly fit, was still a child and she had missed her dinner. “They are most certainly looking for you by now.”

“I” Loki huffed, “Wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Why?” Ikol said, his wings were beginning to ache and his stomach growled, but he ignored the discomfort, and focused instead on questioning the princess.

“Its my brother’s birthday.” Loki said, “They probably, just think I’m sulking.”

“Brother?” Ikol asked, saying the word set off a jolt in his chest, his wing beats faltered for a split second, it seemed he was falling into a gaping chasm.

“Yes, Thor, the crown prince,” Loki said, Ikol was struggling to keep himself in the air, the name repeated over and over, rattling around in his hollow bones, Thor, Thor, Thor… the wind whispered the boy’s name, Ikol felt himself slow and fall lower in the sky, who was he? There was an acute sense of loss in his chest, he looked to the girl, but the trees were blocking out most of the evening light and Loki didn’t seem to notice. “I set out today because my parents were the least likely to realize I had run away until after the feast.”

“Ah,” was all Ikol managed to say as he floundered through the air.

The pair walked in silence for a while, Ikol soon found his wings again, and as they walked farther the last rays of the sun slipped below the forested horizon. It was a new moon, and the sky was darkened except for the pale light of the stars. The forest was dark, almost magically so. The duo continued walking, neither of them admitting that they had begun to walk closer to the other. Loki tripped on a tree root and Ikol wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t plow into a low hanging branch of the same tree a moment later. Loki groaned and Ikol cawed weakly as they sprawled on the floor.

“Where are you?” Loki whispered.

“Stay still, I’ll come to you.” Ikol responded, also whispering.

Ikol hopped toward her voice and landed on her leg, Loki stifled a scream, realizing it was him. “We need to get off the path and wait until day.” Ikol said,

“We have to get farther out,” Loki protested, although, not with much effort

“Only if you want to get lost, fine by me, I can fly out of here.” Ikol said,

“Insufferable bird.” Loki hissed and stood up, causing Ikol to frantically flap his wings to stabilize himself and land on her shoulder. Loki flinched, but then just sighed, she was tired, the most tired she had ever been in her life. “How am I supposed to find a safe place off the path if I can’t even see the path.”

Ikol was silent for a long moment, the he let out a soft caw and a dim green light emanated from his feathers, the shadows jumped back in sudden shock, and the trees seemed to pull closer to the light. Loki jumped, “Why didn’t you do that an hour ago?”

“Magic requires energy.” Ikol responded, “So you don’t use magic unless it is required.”

He fluttered off Loki’s shoulder, the pale green light casting more shadow than glow, he began to fly off into the forest. Loki stumbled after him, her fear of being left alone overpowering her exhaustion. Ikol sped through the night with reckless abandon, he was hungry and tired, the magic seemed to only come to him slowly, which seemed wrong somehow, and he knew that he couldn’t keep this up for long. At last, he came upon a tree that was a bit larger than the others around it, the ground, which was a tangle of roots and leaves was somewhat clear near its base, so Ikol landed on one of its raised roots. Loki soon came up as well, she leaned up against the tree and glanced at Ikol, “How do you glow?”

“Just a simple spell, nothing much really.” Ikol replied, even though the magic felt like it was sucking the life from his chest, “Now, do you have any food in that bag of yours?”

Loki grabbed her satchel and pulled out a sandwich wrapped in cloth, Ikol came over and landed on her knee, she pulled out a small flask of water and sipped it, then she dribbled some into her hand for Ikol, who though a little embarrassed, drank. The duo shared the sandwich, with Loki sectioning off some of it for Ikol, neither of them were full, but they were both much less hungry than before.

“We should sleep.” Ikol said,

“First… what quest did you have in mind?” Loki asked, she had leaned back against the tree and was already halfway asleep.

“I know of a few that you could take on, there is a cursed hoard of gold you could steal, I know of a magic sword locked in a box with five magic locks, you could meet a giant who builds great works of stone with the help of his giant horse…” Ikol began,

“Magic sword?” Loki asked,

“I don’t recommend it, you are the goddess of lies, it is the sword of truth.” Ikol said,

“I prefer mischief.” Loki said softly,

“So do I.” Ikol said without thinking

“I want the sword.” Loki said grinning,

Ikol smiled, “Delightful. Its name escapes me, as they often do, but it is the sword of the first hero of Asgard, it holds the ability to only harm those who speak untruths, and even then, only with their own fault. It was long ago sealed away in a magical case inside a mountain cave in Midgard, locked with seven locks, each that could only be opened with a special magic key that represent something.”

“What do they represent?” Loki asked,

“I don’t know,” Ikol admitted,

Loki’s face fell, “Do you even know where the keys are? Or the case?”

“… I know where to start.” Ikol said, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m just a bird, not a Lore Wain.”

Loki yawned, and Ikol extinguished his light, the night was cold, but neither of them felt it.

“Ikol? Will you teach me magic?” Loki murmured

“Aren’t you a princess? Don’t you have tutors or something or other to teach you?” Ikol grumbled, already half asleep.

“My… My mother is an enchantress but she is too busy ruling the realm to bother teaching me, and my father does not care for magic, he would rather his children learn combat and diplomatic skills.” Loki sighed,

“Then your silver tongue must serve you well Liesmith.” Ikol said, resting his head in his feathers.

Loki shrugged, though Ikol couldn’t see it, “Thor is better at fighting, he says that it’s because he’s a boy so he’s just bigger than me, but Sif beats him in sparring all the time and she’s a girl, so I think that I’m just bad at fighting, which is all father really cares about.”

“hm.” Ikol muttered, there was that name again, it set off the same aching feeling in his chest, he didn’t respond for a long time, until his heart had slowed “I’m no sorcerer, Loki, but… I suppose I can show you some things.”

Ikol relaxed and was asleep in a moment. Loki let out a soft breath and closed her eyes, she felt for the first time in a long time… satisfied.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thor burst into his sister’s room, in his hand was his birthday gift, a magical hammer that could channel the power of lightening. Loki hadn’t been present at the feast, but honestly, Thor didn’t mind, he knew that his sister didn’t like parties. Mother and Father were furious though, which is why he had run ahead before they got there, to tell her to quickly fake some kind of life-threatening illness, if she already didn’t have an excuse, but as he entered the room, all he saw was the maid, sprawled across the floor at a strange angle, with blood pooling around her head.

His first instinct was to run for his parents, but he was 300 now, he steeled himself and walked up to the maid, what was her name? he reached down and touched her neck the way father had shown him, her neck was cold and stiff and he counted to thirty before slowly walking away, he didn’t feel the regular thump of a pulse, the maid was dead. Thor backed into the doorway, only to back into the concerned arms of his mother.

“Thor- what’s going on? Were’s Loki?” Frigga asked

“I don… the maid…” He babbled.

Odin rushed forward, not bothering to feel for a pulse, to him it was obvious that the maid was dead. He darted toward the terrace and the open window. He instantly grew conflicted, the bedsheets tied to the railing showed that Loki had left of her own volition, and, that she had probably killed the maid girl… Ophelia, was it? He felt hot anger fill his bones, but it was quickly doused, he untied the bedsheets and instantly the powerful wind swept them up, casting any evidence far from the scene of the crime. He was not going to lose another daughter to blood lust, even if he could only preserve her memory.

Odin looked his wife in the eyes and shook his head slightly, “Loki has been kidnapped.”

Thor gasped, and Frigga gave her husband a strange look.

“But who would kidnap her!?” Thor said, eyes darting around the room.

Frigga pushed his hair from his eyes, “As royalty our family has many enemies, but most likely whoever stole Loki just wants gold, and when they come for ransom, we will get your sister back. Now, go find Dierk and tell him what had happened.”

Thor nodded frantically and ran off to go find the Chancellor. Frigga closed the door, “What was out there?”

“A makeshift rope, she ran away and killed her maid.” Odin said grimly.

Frigga frowned and held up a hand over the corpse while whispering a spell. She grimaced. “She… enchanted her. Then she fell”

Odin’s eye widened. “How could she have…”

The king and queen looked at each other at once, a terrible understand flickered between them at once, Odin picked up one of the many volumes that lay scattered in Loki’s room. Books of magic. He scowled, there would’ve been no issue with letting an Asgardian child read of magic, most children at some point try to teach themselves, maybe they learn one or two tricks, but it would be nearly impossible for them to learn anything real without proper instruction. Loki, however, was not Asgardian, and frost giants tended to be a bit more… magical.

“I should’ve done something- of course the line of Laufey would be sensitive.” Frigga began to pace. “She was bound to make a mistake at some point, If I had helped her cultivate her talents in a healthy way… then maybe she would’ve come to us when she did.”

“We tried to raise her as we would any other child, Frigga, something was bound to happen. She is not like us.” Odin replied, “Taking her in was a bad idea in the first place, if there is any fault it is on me for deciding to keep her instead of return her to her real family.”

Maternal anger flashed through Frigga’s eyes for a moment, then it subsided, “I hardly know the child,” She stopped walking, “With Thor I took an interest, even with…” She hesitated. “Hela, with Loki I…”

Odin wrapped his arms around his wife’s shoulders. “I did no better, I favor Thor, because I know he is my true son. She was different, and though we tried not to, we treated her as such.”

“When she is found… we should…” Frigga was silent for a moment, “We should contact the Jotun, it may not be too late for her to know her own people.”

Odin nodded silently.

The Chancellor knocked on the door and entered, he only saw his Queen and King worried over the kidnaping of their beloved daughter.