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


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

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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.

If he feared anything— which he didn't; Odin preferred the term a 'healthy mistrust'— it was the space between the stars, where lost things went. There, beings of untold power whispered in shadows as they sought to disrupt the balance of the Nine. Even with his own immense power, the Allfather knew that the threats that lay within the void were more than he, alone, could handle— a leading reason for his desire to have a Star on hand.

"You will train this Star just as well as you did the last one," he began, ordering more than requesting her. "It is still young; there is plenty of time yet to teach it. This time of peace will not last forever; there is war coming, my dear. I can sense it on the horizon. The Star must be ready to meet it when the time comes."

"I will do as you ask, as I always have," Frigga replied calmly, her voice carrying a hint of resignation. "But remember, my love, training a Star is not a task to be taken lightly. They are not mere weapons to be wielded in times of war. They possess a spirit and a will of their own, and it is our responsibility to nurture them, to guide them towards their true purpose."

"To each their own," the Allfather allowed, inclining his head politely in acceptance. "Our views may differ as long as the end goal is still the same. You are the most predominate sorceress we have and the best seiðr-wielder I have ever met. There is no one I would trust more for this role."

His flattery might have once made her heart flutter or her resolve weaken, but now she only met it with a faint, thin smile.  

✧ ✧ ✧

Although she had not known Loki long, Eleanora could already tell that he was very close to his mother; when she had asked about his magic, he'd told her that Frigga had been the one to teach him. Unlike with other topics, it had taken little prompting from her to get a story from him of the revered Allmother. She seemed like a kind and genteel woman, and Eleanora had been a little surprised to find her absent in the throne room when she'd arrived. She'd only gotten a glimpse of her at the Centennial Ball the next day and whether Frigga was actively avoiding her or Loki had pulled her away just in time was still to be determined.

Her adjustment to palace life was slow; all of the servants, the stable hands, the soldiers— it was a lot to take in after living on a small farm with only her mother for company for most of her life. She had been taking a walk in the gardens— her favorite place as it had the fewest people— when a servant had hurried over to her, apologized for the interruption, and explained that the queen was requesting her presence. Immediately, Eleanora felt the onset of nerves as she heard the news. (Oh, how she wished Loki had come with her, but he'd buried himself in the library and had yet to be seen since.) It looked like she was to meet with the Allmother alone.

Since she was still getting used to her new accommodations, she asked the maid to lead her to the queen's quarters. When they arrived at the door, the servant bowed off, leaving her to stand in front of the entrance by herself. After gaining admittance, Eleanora went into the opulent chambers— but where Loki's favored green and gold, the emerald tones were only accents compared to the white and blue colors that Frigga preferred.

The queen was seated gracefully on a plush velvet chair, her demeanor serene yet commanding as she looked up from her embroidery. Frigga's eyes, the same shade of deep blue as the sky at twilight, met Eleanora's with a gentle— if not guarded— warmth. The blonde hastily dropped into a curtsy, only slightly less shaky than the one she'd given Odin a few days ago.

Frigga set down her stitchwork and stood, moving towards the girl to gently lift her back into a standing position. "The king has told me much about you already, but he has yet to mention your name. Would you share it with me?"

Gratified that the queen did not demand it from her like Odin had, Eleanora said with a bit more confidence: "Eleanora, Your Majesty."

The older woman nodded, then gestured to the chair she had been sitting in; its counterpart adjacent to it with a small table between them. "Before I broach the subject of what I wish to speak to you about, I would like to hear of your journey to us. I hope my son— sons, depending on who you've met— was not without his manners?"

The Star smiled then, amused at the question. As commanding and stunning as Loki was, she often forgot that he, too, had a mother and was a son. She remembered her past dreams of him as he sparred with Thor and pulled pranks whenever he could; it seemed like a lifetime ago that he was that carefree of a person. So, she accepted the queen's invitation and took a seat before she launched into the story of how she and Loki had met— painting him in a slightly better light for his mother's sake. When she got to the part about their marriage, the silvery light appeared around her head as she was reminded, once again, of what he sacrificed for her.

Frigga listened to the end of the tale in astonished disbelief, but there was pride there, too. Of course Loki had thought of a plan to gain the upper hand with his father, no matter how unintentional it had been.

"He protected me, Your Majesty," Eleanora finished, her stardust-colored eyes sparkling with adoration. "I was so frightened of what my fate would become but he really did have a change of heart."

The Allmother's expression softened, some of her desire to keep the Star at arm's length vanishing because it was different now. She would learn from the past and history would not repeat itself. After all, she wasn't alone anymore— she had Loki and Thor, the former of whom was more than a match for her husband.

"You must call me Frigga, then," was the first thing she said after the woman had finished speaking. "Since you are a part of our family now. Although I would recommend you keep titles of respect when addressing my husband."

"Of course," the blonde agreed quickly; she had no intentions of becoming familiar with Odin.

"Now, my dear, for the reason why I have called you here today," Frigga continued. "As you are already aware, Stars have their own, built-in defense mechanisms that they can use in times of great duress— as with the witches you faced. But, when properly trained, your light can be much more than that. I should like to teach you this art."

Eleanora's eyes widened as she listened to the queen, taken aback by the in-depth knowledge that she seemed to have. "I would love that," she began, "but how do you know all of this?"

Frigga's expression became regretful, her blue eyes taking on a distant, rather glossy appearance. "I. . . trained the last Star that lived with us. How she met her end was, to some extent, my fault. I do not wish for another Star to meet that fate."

"Oh," the blonde replied softly, her gaze dropping to her lap. It seemed rude to look at the queen when the memory was obviously causing her a great amount of grief.

✧ ✧ ✧

"Much like seiðr, your power relies on a source to draw from," the queen explained the next day. They were not in her chambers this time (most likely because she didn't want them to be accidentally destroyed), but in a large, empty room somewhere in the palace that Eleanora had only found by following the servant who lead her there. "That is what we must tap into first before we can refine your abilities."

"A source? Like what?" the blonde wondered. Although she had always known about her power, she'd had very little experience using it apart from the silvery glow that appeared around her head.

"Emotions are usually the most-used base, but I would not recommend such a trigger; an unstable foundation will not give you the control you are looking for and can be unpredictable at best. For a better example, the other Star, Aðalbjörg, drew power from her weapons as they were always on her. I would still not endorse such a source as weapons can still be taken away from you. Aðalbjörg felt much pressure to become the best to prevent that from happening.

"If I may, I would propose the source that is preferred among only the most prominent seiðr-wielders use, myself and Loki among them. Visualization can be difficult to master but I believe the effort extorted to learn such a skill pays back tenfold over time. For instance, I picture a scrying bowl, in which contains the base of my magic. Loki uses a book to hide his talents behind, sinking his magic between the pages and lines that are indistinguishable from the thoughts of his mind— an impressive choice, if I may say so myself," Frigga finished with a touch of pride in her voice.

Eleanora listened to the queen's words intently, intrigued by her suggestions. She wouldn't lie; magic had always interested her, but it had seemed such a far away and impossible concept that she could wield something similar, she had never thought about how she might do such a thing. Loki had always made manipulating seiðr look so easy that she hadn't considered how much time he'd spent— and still spends— mastering that skill.

"How did you know to choose a scrying bowl?" she asked. "Was it as obvious a decision as Loki's book?"

The Allmother smiled slightly, amused by how quickly Eleanora had picked up on her son's tendencies. "A good question," she said approvingly. "I have always had a talent for Seeing, even before I truly learned seiðr. It is a branch of magic that I feel closely connected to, so it was not such a stretch for me to chose it. Is there something in particular that you have an affinity for?"

The Star's first thought— one that made her blush slightly— was Loki, but a person was hardly a good source from what she could tell from Frigga's instructions. As loath as she was to think about it, he could be taken from her as easily as any weapons. So, she continued to think about the things that she had loved since she'd been a child. 

There were books, of course, but she did not love them as much as Loki did. There was her horse, Celestia, but picturing a horse did not feel very magical. Besides, she did not love Celestia, not like the creature was made of the air she breathed and lived within the very marrow of her bones. There was her mother, too, but once again she was a person and so that nullified her suitability as well. She had a love for adventuring, but that might be too abstract to picture.

In the end, she sighed and shook her head, discouraged. "No. I have never been very talented at anything."

Frigga's gaze softened, understanding the frustration and self-doubt in Eleanora's words. "Do not be too hard on yourself, my dear. Talent often reveals itself in unexpected ways and sometimes it simply takes time to uncover. The fact that you are here, willing to learn and explore the depths of magic, speaks volumes about your potential. Perhaps it's not about finding something you excel at already, but rather about discovering what resonates with you on a deeper level. Magic is as much about intuition and connection as it is about skill and technique."

"Thank you, Your— Frigga," Eleanora corrected herself, turning a bit pink as her words came out as 'your Frigga.' "I'll keep searching, then. I won't give up."

✧ ✧ ✧

Her despondency over her immediate failure in magic was still potent enough to be noticeable when she met Loki in the library for their newly-established daily reading lessons. Try as she might, she could not focus on the Asgardian letters before her as she ran through the same lack of potential sources in her mind over and over again. Loki— no. Books— no. Celestia— no. Mother— no. Adventuring— no. Was that what her entire life amounted to? It was a rather disheartening thought.

Eleanora had been so zoned out of their current lesson that she did not notice when her husband (wow, that was still a concept to get used to) waved a careless hand. The letters on the book peeled themselves off the pages and became animated, dancing in front of her as if they were attending a ball of their own design. It was a harmless prank, to be sure; while he could have turned her pen into a snake to get her attention, he cared about her enough to not wish unnecessary harm to her person. It didn't stop him from being mildly disappointed as she did not even pay attention when the þ and ᛒ started what Midgardians would call a conga line with the other letters.

"Darling," he drawled, "the letters are dancing in front of your eyes. Literally. As talented a tutor as I am, I cannot teach you if you fail to listen."

She startled then, jerking out of her daze by blinking rapidly to refocus her eyes. Once his words sunk in, she gave him a guilty look— which turned to surprised as she took in the magic trick he had pulled.

"Oh," she said in disbelief, tentatively reaching out to poke her finger through the ð. As expected, it did not have any real substance and her finger passed right to the other side.

Amused, Loki waved his hand again and they vanished. "What has you so lost in thought that you cannot concentrate on our lesson? If I am boring you, simply say the word; there are far better things I can be doing with my time."

While his words might have been harsh, there was a lilting note to his tone that took the sting away. Besides, she knew that if he did not want to teach her, he would not hesitate to tell her so. "The magic lessons with your mother. It's only been a day and I'm already failing. I can't find a source to channel whatever magic I have."

"Surely you did not think yourself a prodigy?" the god asked, not to be mocking but meant it merely as fact. Still, Eleanora had begun to look hurt, so he changed tactics. "You are not an idiot, darling, only inexperienced. Even the greatest sorcerers have encountered difficulties during their training. The only thing that limits you is your perspective. The most dangerous thing a sorcerer can say is 'I cannot.'"

"That's easy for someone who has already proven their skill to say," the blonde argued, not without some jealousy. "I have no proof that I can do anything."

Loki observed her for a second, his blue-green eyes leaning more towards emerald in the dimmer lighting of the library. "You're right," he said unexpectedly after a minute.

He stood, pushing the chair back from the table to do so. The table they had occupied was in the main area of the room; bookshelves that reached from floor to exceptionally high ceiling surrounded them that stretched into long aisles which disappeared from view. The junction of the bookshelves had created an open space where several tables had been placed as a sort of communal space. Loki strode towards the open area and made an about-face to turn back to her. Curious, she watched as his solitary form began to shimmer and suddenly, many Lokis stood in the library with her— at least twelve or thirteen.

"Eleanora," one called out, indiscernible from the original Loki. "Come over here." Once she was standing in the middle of the ring, a different Loki continued: "what you perceive as limitations are merely opportunities waiting to be seized."

"And every failure," a third Loki added from her left, "is a chance to learn and grow stronger."

"So use this as a chance to do exactly that," yet another copy chimed in, causing her to turn in a around once more to face him. "Find the real Loki among us and you shall be rewarded."

The Star kept spinning around as she took in the different Lokis, more confused than anything else. They were all the same; not a single one had a defining characteristic from the next. "How am I supposed to do that? Will you give me a hint, at least?"

The Loki to her right let out a smooth chuckle. "That's no fun, darling. You know we don't like to play fairly."

"But a hint isn't fair," she argued, if not a bit petulantly. "In fact, some might consider it cheating. It's breaking the rules, and you love doing that."

One of the gods behind her let out a hum of consideration. "You're not wrong, I suppose. What kind of hint would you like, pet?"

She startled at the use of the nickname he had not called her since she'd requested him not to. She remembered the promise he'd made: if I ever do call you 'pet' again, then some other being has taken over my body and soul. I swear this to you. Sure, it might have been sworn in jest, but he had not broken the promise since then. Doing so now made her suspicious, so Eleanora walked over to the prince who had uttered the question and swiped a hand through his insubstantial form, causing him to disappear. "That's enough, I think."

"One down," another Loki purred.

"Twelve to go."

The blonde contemplated the remaining gods. She had no idea if she could simply sense his magic, but it was worth a try. Closing her eyes, she searched within herself to see if there was a tug of feeling— intuition, Frigga had called it. She continued to spin in a small circle to have the best chance of sensing the illusions around her.

Something flickered behind her eyelids; a bright, white light that grew stronger if she concentrated on it. It pulsed with an illumination that lit the darkness around it— a lone star in an otherwise black night. A source! Eleanora thought hopefully. Opening her eyes, she did her best to keep ahold of it as it tugged her towards the first Loki who had called her over.

As he vanished in a glitter of green magic. She continued to use this method until only two Lokis were standing before her. They exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring each other in a mixture of amusement and intrigue. Eleanora squared her shoulders, focusing on the sensation within her. The pull of intuition was unmistakable now, a steady thrum guiding her towards one of the Lokis.

She approached the first one cautiously, her eyes narrowed in determination. The Loki in question regarded her with a smirk, his gaze filled with an unnerving intensity.

"You're getting warmer, my dear," he taunted, his voice dripping with a honeyed charm that sent shivers down her spine.

Eleanora paused before she made her decision. "If I win, what sort of reward would I get?"

The Loki before her smiled softly as his expression grew fond. "My heart, of course."

The one on the left rolled his eyes at the sentiment the other one expressed and smirked slightly. "I have always wondered how soundproofed the library was. . ." he trailed off suggestively.

Coming to a conclusion, she stepped forward, towards the one who had spoken second. Latching her hands behind her back to give no indication of her choice, Eleanora stood on her toes, closing the distance between their faces. Her eyes fell to his lips as she murmured, "you."

Then, she pressed her lips to his, feeling a surge of electricity run through her at the contact. They were warm and soft against her own, not made of air and magic like they would've been if she'd chosen his illusion. She felt him smile into the kiss as his hands came to rest on her waist, keeping her balanced. The false Loki dissipated in another shimmer of magic.

When she pulled away, his eyes met hers, nearly emerald in their color. "Did you find your source, darling?"

Beaming up at him, Eleanora unlocked her hands and placed them against his chest, feeling the smooth leather beneath her fingertips. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it? But yes, I did."

"And, if you would like to share it, what is it?"

"Well. . . a star, actually. I saw. . . I saw my original form," she admitted, for she knew that was what it had been: the light pulsating within her was her own energy in celestial shape.

The god looked interested at her answer. "How fascinating. In all of my research, I have never heard of a source being one's own self; it has always been a physical object. Perhaps it is because you are a part of nature yourself that you have a greater power bank to work from. Asgardians are, of course, natural in a sense as well— we are not like metal or other handmade objects— but our connection to nature has been diluted as we evolved."

Eleanora's expression softened as she listened to his musings; she was quickly finding out that she liked it when he talked about magic. He always sounded so knowledgeable and impressive. She would have let him keep rambling, but she was far more concerned about her promised reward. Tugging on the collar of his leathers to get his attention, she asked, "since I found my source and I chose the right version of you, what do I win?"

He glanced down at her, feigning surprise. "Haven't I told you already?"

"No," she said, though the word came out as more of a question.

Loki pulled her close until she was pressed flush against him. Placing his lips close to her ear, he murmured, "oh, but I have. The prize is my heart, of course. And. . ."

The Star blushed at the picture he put in her mind with his words andthe silvery halo around her head returned in full force.