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❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʟɪɴᴇ ꒱


❝ FOR YOU, MY DEAR,
I WOULD MOVE THE
VERY STARS THEMSELVES ❞

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A S G A R D

MANY YEARS AGO. . .

Magnus Aricson had joined the King's Guard early in life and served for many thousands of years. If he were to age himself in Midgardian years, the knight would guess he was about twenty-seven and had started his training at the tender age of ten. He loved his job serving his king and knew that he would give his life for Odin if necessary.

He didn't aspire to lofty goals like some of his comrades and never wished to lead an army into battle, but he was strong and loyal and wanted to put his talents to good use by following orders. Imagine his surprise when he not only got to live in the palace protecting a high-security vault, but had also found the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He and one of his closest friends, Ivar, had been in charge of training the younger lads that day when a misplaced spear had been thrust into his side by a more advanced student. To this day, Magnus wasn't sure what had caused him to take such an easy blow to block, but he was glad of it nonetheless. After making fun of his idiocy, Ivar helped Magnus down to the infirmary to get his injury healed.

Elin had been the one to greet him at the door, her blue eyes widening at the sight of his bloodstained robes. Ivar had done the explaining for him, which was lucky because Magnus had forgotten how to speak. The Healer had been just as young as he at the time and didn't have her current skill set so he'd been tended to by one of the older Healers.

Of course, a spear in the side during practice was nothing the skilled workers couldn't handle and he was back on his feet in no time, but before he left the dark-haired man had found the blonde woman again and headed over to where she was quietly preparing bandages.

After watching her for a moment, he finally spoke: "what's your name?"

Almost immediately, he cringed at the blunt intrusion to her peaceful work but it was too late to take the words back now. The blonde woman only startled slightly but gave him a kind smile despite his tactlessness. "My name is Elin. I'm in training to be a Healer, but I suppose that's obvious."

A pretty, light pink blush decorated her cheeks as she spoke to him and she ducked her head to avoid his gaze. The soldier smiled. "I'm Magnus. If we're being obvious, I'm a knight of the King's Guard and a pretty stupid one at that. Who gets injured like that during training?"

He was rewarded with Elin's bright laugh. "It's not the first time I'm sure and people make mistakes all the time. A lapse in talent can easily be forgiven."

The dark-haired man couldn't help but be pleased with her remark. "You think I'm talented? You've never even seen me train, except for when I make a mistake."

Elin shrugged. "I'm sure you've got to have talent for the King to want you on his guard. And besides, you've probably been at the palace for a while and this is the first time you're down here. There's some knights who visit once a month. If that doesn't show talent, I'm not sure what does."

Magnus was in awe of her optimistic outlook on his embarrassing situation. He'd never met someone who seemed so intelligent— but then again, most of his days were spent around men like Ivar, and while he made a great friend, he wasn't one for intellectual conversation.

"Would you come watch me train?" Magnus blurted out suddenly, not wanting the only time he saw Elin to be when he was hurt.

The blonde woman turned bright red and nodded. "I've never seen the training ring— I would love that," she answered, giving him a shy glance.

Even if he'd tried, Magnus couldn't have hidden his excitement. "Wonderful! Would you be able to make it to the one at the end of the week? That's when knights train against knights and you can see me at my best." He gave her a playful wink.

"As long as 'your best' isn't getting stabbed in the side again, I'm sure a can clear my schedule," Elin responded teasingly. 

✧ ✧ ✧

PRESSENT DAY. . .

Eleanora's gaze was unfocused as she stared off into the distance. She was standing outside on the balcony of Loki's room as the darkness of the oncoming night gathered around her. She had been lost in thought about the stories her mother used to tell her of her time in the palace— about being a healer, about Magnus, the man she'd fallen in love with, and how all that had changed the night Eleanora had graced the realms with her presence.

Her mind had been so far away that she hadn't noticed that Loki had come out to join her. His usual preference to stay awake through the night had been abandoned in favor of what the. . . companionship during the night brought: a much sweeter prospect than spending hours alone amongst dusty shelves full of books. Don't be mistaken— books and learning were still very much of interest to him, but even gods had to take a break sometimes, and what better way than to devote that time to his beautiful, innocent wife?

That being said, he was getting a little impatient with how long it was taking her to join him in bed, so he had come to see what was occupying her. The blonde startled slightly as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. After recovering from her small surprise, she placed her hand on top of his arms and leaned back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

"Darling," Loki murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "What has captured your attention so fiercely?"

"My mother," Eleanora replied, somewhat unexpectedly. Her own voice was soft with a hint of sadness. "I miss her."

He did his best not to wince at that, remembering the cruel words he'd uttered in the hopes of getting her to comply to his kidnapping: you aren't going home, pet. You will likely never see your home again— and you should be glad of it; there are far more opportunities for greatness in Asgard than there are. . . here.

"Perhaps I was too harsh upon our first meeting," he admitted quietly, and she could hear the regret in his tone.

That didn't stop her from scoffing a bit. "You think?"

Loki's lips quirked into a rueful smile at her response, acknowledging her skepticism. "Indeed, I do," he conceded, his gaze softened with genuine remorse. "I realize now that my methods were. . . less than ideal. But there might be a way. . ."

"A way?" she echoed, perking up somewhat. "To see my mother again, you mean? To go home?"

Although she didn't see it— since they were facing the same direction— the prince's face fell imperceptibly. "Well, I was hoping that, eventually, you would come to see Asgard as your home. After all, I cannot promise you a permanent relocation to Alfheim. But, I was thinking that we could use the passages between realms again for a short visit. We could tell my father that we are going on a hunting trip, or that I'm tracking down a rare magical relic so he does not send out a search party for us."

Eleanora's eyes widened at the suggestion, the hope that surged within her pouring out in a glimmer of starshine around her head. The idea of seeing her mother again, even for a brief moment, was like a lifeline thrown to her in the midst of turmoil.

"You would do that?" she asked eagerly.

Loki met her gaze steadily, his expression full of affection despite the mischievous glint that always seemed to dance in his eyes. "For you, my dear, I would move the very stars themselves," he replied, a genuine warmth infusing his words.

She ducked her head as a blush rose to her face at his words, her heart skipping several beats in her chest. "I don't know if my sisters would like that very much, but. . . thank you. I. . . I don't know what to say."

He reached out to cup his hand against her cheek, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. . "You don't have to say anything," he whispered, his gaze softening with unspoken understanding. "Just know that I am here for you, now and always. It's you and me, until the end."

As she rose up on her toes to press a kiss to his lips— a fleeting promise of more to come— she murmured, "me and you, until the end."

✧ ✧ ✧

A L F H E I M

After Eleanora had told Frigga the truth of their excursion— she wasn't about to lie to the woman who'd helped develop her abilities so much— it was no difficulty to invent a story to explain their trip to Odin. A quick jaunt around Niflheim (with the claim of searching for the magical relic that Loki had used as their excuse— which turned out to be not that much of a lie) and a cloaking spell later— Loki had been practicing so that he could rely on his own power to cover two people— they found themselves back on Alfheim.

The warm, green world of Alfheim was a blessed change from the freezing temperatures of the realm that they had just left. As they stepped through the portal to the other side, Eleanora closed her eyes as the sense of homecoming struck her. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed Alfheim, with its fields full of light, the tall, ancient trees and spindly glass buildings. Of course, Asgard was beautiful, but there was something entirely. . . otherworldly about Alfheim that it could never hope to replicate, as if then whole realm were floating on air.

Loki used Elin's seiðr to find their way back to her home, explaining, "this is how I tracked you; all sorcerers have a magical signature on the world. Yours was, obviously, more potent than your mother's which made you easier to follow, but this is hardly a challenge."

The blonde rolled her eyes at his bragging tone, resisting the urge to point out how much he sounded like Thor in that moment. In any case, she was happy that he was so confident in his skills. As they traversed the familiar paths of Alfheim, Eleanora couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over her. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blossoms and the soft glow of the realm's warmth eased the constant tenseness in her bones— something that she didn't even know was there, but only felt once they were away from Asgard. Loki led the way with practiced ease, his steps purposeful and sure.

It was not too long before the familiar fields of her home came into view, the small cottage nestled amidst a grove of old-growth trees. She could hear the sounds of farm life from where they stood and she longed to go and run her fingers through Celestia's mane. But as her husband took a step out of the woods and towards her small house, she caught his arm and tugged him back into the shadows as apprehension filled her.

"What's wrong?" Loki asked, his voice low and filled with concern as he turned to face Eleanora, his eyes— always so green on Alfheim— searching hers.

"I. . . it's just been so long," the blonde replied worriedly, frowning as she gazed at the familiar landscape. It had been just a year— hardly any time at all to an Asgardian or a Star— but it felt like it had been a lifetime. "My mother. . . what if she's angry at me?"

His expression softened, almost appearing guilty, though it lasted for just a second as he answered, "she won't be. Darling, your departure wasn't your fault; if anything, it will be me she's angry at. We'll explain everything to her, together, and we'll make it right. From what you've told me about her, she's much like my mother, which means she'll understand. If she were anything like my father, on the other hand, you'd certainly have something to worry about."

The god's attempt at a self-deprecating joke to cheer her up seemed to do the trick, and Eleanora gave him a faint smile. She nodded, and had never been more grateful for his steadfast presence as she took his hand. Together, they walked up the worn path to the door of the cottage, to which Eleanora announced their presence with a knock.

It didn't take long for an answer to come since her mother never strayed far from their house. The door creaked open to reveal Elin's youthful features. She had been young when she'd taken on the role of being a mother and appeared, at most, a few decades older than Eleanora herself. Despite not being biologically related, they did look alike as they shared the same coloring in their features, though that was where the similarities ended.

As she caught sight of her daughter, her eyes widened and became glossy with tears as she reached out and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "Eleanora," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "Oh, stjarna, you're back."

Tears pricked at the corners of Eleanora's own eyes as she returned the embrace, feeling the weight of her mother's love and relief wash over her. For a moment, they simply held each other, the year of separation melting away in the comfort of each other's arms. For most of her life, Elin had been the singular person she'd known in all the Nine, and to be apart from her for so long had weighed heavily her.

"It's been too long, mom," Eleanora murmured, her voice muffled against Elin's shoulder. When they finally pulled apart, the older woman stepped back to look at Eleanora, her hands resting on her daughter's shoulders as she took in her appearance.

"You're home," she said, a mixture of joy and sadness in her voice. "But where have you been? What happened?"

"That's. . . a long story," she began, glancing over at Loki, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during their reunion. "Before I tell it to you, there's someone I want you to meet. Mom," she continued, slipping her hand into the god's once more, "this is Loki, Prince of Asgard. And he's my. . . husband."

At the words of Asgard, Elin's open expression became suspicious and cold, regarding the man before her hostilely. "Prince, you say? Eleanora, have you forgotten all the stories I've told you about that place?"

"Of course not," the blonde reassured her quickly, her tone taking on a hard edge. "But not everyone shares Odin's beliefs, you know. Loki married me to protect me from his father."

The prince took his hand from his wife's grip, but just so he could place it supportively on her shoulder. "Lady Elin, I understand your apprehension, given the tales that circulate about my father's— and even my own— questionable actions, but I assure you, my intentions toward your daughter are nothing but sincere. It is thanks to her that my view on Stars and their place in the world has changed. I would do anything to protect her and keep her from the fate my father mistakenly believes is her destiny."

"Pretty words from the Silver-tongued Prince," Elin commented dryly. "A well-earned title. I will reserve judgment for now. Perhaps my understanding of your relationship will come as you share your tale," she conceded, her tone still guarded. "But know this, Loki Prince of Asgard, if you ever break my daughter's heart, you will answer to me."

While he had no intention of doing such a thing, her words caught his interest. She had specifically said break her daughter's heart, and that had been the extent of her threat. She seemed to have a better understanding of his character than he'd expected since she didn't say 'betray my daughter's trust'— which would have been a perfectly logical addendum. Loki appreciated the distinction she'd made and readily agreed to her promise.

✧ ✧ ✧

Once they'd finished telling Elin everything that had happened since the night they met, they settled down into rustic life, at least for the few days of their visit. Eleanora had to admit that it was amusing to watch Loki stumble as he attempted farm chores since he was naturally so good at everything else. Of course, he wasn't really trying to help since he turned his nose up at mucking stalls and anything to do with 'dirty work.' Eleanora just rolled her eyes and teased him for being a diva. She watched with a mix of amusement and exasperation as the god attempted to avoid getting his hands dirty while he delicately sidestepped a particularly muddy patch, and the Star couldn't help but shake her head.

"Really, Loki?" the blonde chuckled, watching him wrinkle his nose at the sight of the manure pile. "I've seen you face down witches and even your father, but a little dirt sends you running?"

Loki sighed dramatically and waved his hand at the soil that had dared to mar his clean boots. It vanished, leaving the toe polished and shining once more. "Darling, you know I'm more accustomed to battles of wit that face courtly life than muck and manure."

Eleanora shook her head fondly. "Oh, spare me your grievances, Loki. You're acting like a spoiled prince."

He straightened, a playful glint in his eyes. "But my dear wife, I am a prince, and a very charming one at that."

She laughed as she returned to her chores. "Hmm, prince doesn't feel quite right. How about Drama Queen instead?"

"Alright, alright, you caught me," he admitted, stepping closer to her and wrapping an arm around her waist. "But you have to admit, farm life isn't exactly my forte."

She cast her gaze around the barn for inspiration, looking for something that might subdue his complaints. Her eyes fell on Celestia, who was watching her with soft brown eyes. Gasping with excitement, she grasped his arm and tugged him over to the stall. "I know something that's in your forte— horseback riding! Doesn't all royalty know how to do that?"

"Are you stereotyping royalty, darling?" the god asked with mock indignation. At her unwavering eager gaze, though, he nodded. "I suppose we could go for a ride."

"I have something better in mind," Eleanora countered, the downright mischievous twinkle in her eyes making him reconsider the horseback ride in favor of magically soundproofing her room for the next few hours. "I am going to race you."

"Race me?" he repeated, lifting a skeptical brow. "You do know that I've had years to practice my riding skills. My natural talent would be an unfair advantage to you."

The blonde remained unphased as she smirked up at him while she scratched Celestia's muzzle with her hand. "Then I suppose you have nothing to lose. After all, to the victor belong the spoils. To the loser. . ." she trailed off to meet his eyes as she continued, "also belong the spoils."

That certainly made him curious, and he gave her an interested look. "What spoils?"

She smiled brightly in return. "My heart, of course."

They had both horses— Celestia and her mother's mare, Estella— tacked up in short order. Before Loki could even make the offer to help Eleanora up on her mount, he'd found her already sitting on top of the horse. Surprised by the skill he didn't know she possessed, he joined her on Estella.

"Okay," the Star began, "here's the course. For a true test of expertise, we'll do cross country: through the woods, across the meadow, forge the Rockhaven River and end at the ruins of Algorn's last stand, which is about a quarter of the way to Stormhold. Since you don't know the way, you can use that seiðr-tracking spell to follow me."

"How generous of you, darling," the god retorted lightly. "Any rules?"

She sent him a 'really?' look. "I'm racing you. If I set any, you'd only break them."

"But that's the fun of it," he pouted slightly. "Just give me one so I can at least have the pleasure of doing so."

The blonde sighed. "Fine. How about no illusions, then?"

"That's just a hindrance to me, but very well," he conceded with a sly smile. "After all, what illusion could I possibly create to throw you off course?"

"I'm sure you'll figure out something," was her long-suffering answer. "Ready?" He was about to confirm that yes, he was, but then she added very quickly: "set-go!"

She shot off without warning, leaving him in Celestia's dust. Not for long, though, as he spurred Estella into a canter to catch up with her. When he was right on her tail, he called after her, "that was a dirty trick, darling! You're going to wish that you hadn't done that!"

Eleanora didn't spare him a reply as she urged her mare faster, faster, alight with joy at the speed with which they travelled. The wind whipped at her braid and stung her eyes. The green of the forest blurred together as she focused on the sound of her horse's pounding hooves. Her heart pounded with adrenaline as her happiness poured forth from her in a show of brilliant starlight that shone around her. She lost track of where Loki was for some time as she raced through the woods, intent on getting to the other side. All she knew was the path under her horse's feet and the surety of Celestia's strides. 

A fallen tree loomed before them, blocking their route. It wasn't just any tree, either; it was an Alfheim tree, which meant its trunk was the width of at least four men standing abreast, too tall to jump over with any mount, regardless of the rider's skill.

Still, Eleanora almost didn't notice the obstacle until it was too late. Loki had seen it coming from a distance and veered out of its way, expecting his wife to do the same. When he realized that she was still running towards it that he let out a shout of warning, his voice sharp with worry: "Eleanora, change course!"

She heard his yell, but there was no time. The tree was drawing closer by the second and there was no way she could avoid it. So, she fell to her backup plan. Summoning her source— which wasn't hard, considering the celestial glow that was already surrounding her— she focused on one of Frigga's lessons. It had been about shaping her light; rather than just using her power as an explosive, she had the ability to form it to her will and use it as a weapon, as an extension of herself.

Concentrating hard, the Star pictured a ribbon of light forming in her hand, curling out from her grasp like a whip. Opening her eyes, she took an instant to admire the fact that it had worked before she lashed it out, the light cutting through the tree as easily as a hot knife through butter. With another slash of her light-whip, the part of the trunk that lay in the middle of the path disintegrated into ash, leaving the way clear for her to pass through. Flushed with her success, Eleanora let the weapon disappear and rejoin the silvery glow that surrounded her.

She burst from the other side breathlessly, and Loki could only stare at her in awe as she continued to canter onward. He knew she'd been practicing with his mother, but, once again, that had been a skill he hadn't expected her to have. As he returned to his previous pace, he made a mental note to no longer underestimate his wife.

As they cleared the woods, the meadow spread out before them, filled with lush, tall grass and wildflowers. Neither rider stopped to admire the view as they pounded onward, the only signs of their presence being the imprints of their horses' hooves on the ground and Eleanora's bright laughter that trailed behind her.

Loki was still farther behind than he would have liked to be and it certainly wasn't his intention to lose, so it was time to pull a trick. It didn't take long for him to create it, being relatively simple spell work-wise. As his horse thundered on, he thrust his hand in the Star's direction. A dense forest appeared around her, with towering trees that made the way forward impossible to see. Eyes from unknown creatures peered out from the blackness— a traditional haunted forest.

Although Eleanora knew that it was an illusion, animals were always skittish around magic. Celestia reared, forcing her to hold on tight as her mare came to a grinding halt. Loki took the advantage and rushed forward, taking the lead. He only heard the tail end of his wife's accusing, "you cheat!" before the wind snatched it away.

The blonde glared at the 'dark woods' in front of her, knowing that Celestia wouldn't keep going. She summoned forth a sphere of light into her palm. With a grunt of frustration, she lobbed it forward, into the darkness. The light expanded, intensifying until it bleached the illusion of color, turning it gray before it faded completely. Beaming at her accomplishment, Eleanora broke Celestia into a canter once more.

✧ ✧ ✧

In the end, they decided to call it a tie; they had both arrived at Algor's last stand within seconds of each other and neither could tell who beat who. As they slid off their panting horses, Eleanora went over to take her husband's hand. She placed his palm on the left side of her chest, above her heart. "Your prize, my prince."

Loki's eyes softened as he felt the steady beat of Eleanora's heart beneath his hand. He leaned in to press a tender kiss against her forehead. "You've always been my greatest prize, darling," he whispered.

The blonde smiled up at him, her own eyes shining with affection. "And you, mine," she replied tenderly, squeezing his hand gently.

They went over to the tree that had grown amongst the ruins, letting their horses graze on the nearby grass to recover from the race. Loki sat with his back against the trunk and tugged the blonde down to sit between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her as the warmth of the afternoon settled around them. She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes, relishing the peaceful moment after the exhilaration of the race.

She had missed this Loki, the one who didn't have to keep up appearances for court or strove to impress his father. She noticed that he was freer, away from Asgard, like when he had been on the pirate ship. It wasn't that he was cold at the palace, exactly, but he was certainly more. . . formal. Eleanora wished that they could move to Alfheim and start over just so that he would have less expectations placed upon him. But, she also knew that he would quickly grow bored of that kind of life, especially as used to the upheavals at the palace as he was.

So, she could only revel in the moments where he could be this untroubled and tuck those memories away for later, when she needed the reminder of happy times the most. Regardless of how Loki behaved, though, she knew one thing: she loved him, no matter what version of himself he presented to the world. It had been inevitable, she knew; he was her glorious purpose, after all. It was only a matter of time then, until she realized her true feelings, and she fell gladly.

It had been such a perfect day, such a perfect visit— one that Loki himself had suggested, and had willingly gone out on a limb to get for her; it just felt like the right time. So, as she lay curled up against him, Eleanora let the three little words slip from her lips to breathe them into life in the sunlit air: "I love you."

At first, Loki thought that he hadn't heard her correctly, but a god's hearing was impeccable. He froze, then, not quite knowing what to do. He'd never spoken those words to anyone, not even his own mother, who was arguably his favorite person in the world. He'd only ever felt that way about one other person, and look where that had gotten him. (Well, into a relationship with a woman who was his equal in every way, but that was only after he'd suffered through the indignity of a broken heart— and even that was too strong; he had never loved Sif, but she had been the first person he'd ever had true feelings for.)

Still. . . even with all of his skill as a wordsmith and his title of a Silver-tongue, he was struck speechless by Eleanora's simple proclamation. The silence between them stretched out, growing so long that now it would be awkward to say anything at all. Chancing a glance down at the woman in his lap, he noticed with some relief that her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly, one of her hands resting in a light fist against his chest. Even as his expression became impossibly fond, he felt a guiltily grateful as an excuse presented itself: she had probably uttered those words in a drowsy state and didn't know what she was saying. He released a breath, relaxing against the tree as he realized that he wouldn't have to reply.

But, what he didn't know was that Eleanora had only been feigning sleep; as Loki had failed to respond to her sentiment, she had grown embarrassed at her admission. To save herself, she pretended that she hadn't said anything at all and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the ache in her heart.

✧ ✧ ✧

"Won't you come back with us, mom?" Eleanora asked Elin that evening, which was to be the last they would spend in Alfheim; they were going to return early the next morning to prevent any suspicion from arising.

The trio was sitting around the small table in the main room of the Healer's cottage with the extra chair having being the milking stool. Eleanora had chosen it as her seat so as to prevent Loki from complaining further, giving him the other proper kitchen seat. It was a bit funny as it put her at a slightly lower height than the other two. Candles had been lit to fight off the encroaching night, filling the house with a warm, golden glow. A fire crackled in the hearth as well, causing shadows to dance on the walls.

At the woman's question, though, her mother shook her head, her bright expression faltering. "No," she replied softly but firmly. "I can't. I will never go back to Asgard."

"Why not?" the blonde wondered, frowning at the pang of disappointment she felt. "If you did, we could be together all the time! If you stay, I don't. . . I don't know when I'll be able to see you next. It might be longer than a year."

Elin sighed and shook her head again, glancing over at Loki with the same guardedness she'd greeted him with two days ago. "I don't like to talk about it," she began slowly, and Eleanora was surprised by the grief that clouded her mother's blue eyes. "Although it happened a long time ago, sometimes wounds are too deep that not even time can heal them. There is. . . one story that I haven't told you."

"Which one?" the Star prompted her mother, the usual eagerness in her tone to hear a tale curbed by the sorrow she heard in Elin's words.

The older woman met her eyes solemnly across the table. "The night that the heavens delivered you to me. I won't tell it with him here, though," she added pointedly to the god.

"I thought you were going to reserve judgement?" he countered.

"About your relationship with my daughter, yes," Elin answered coolly. "But in matters concerning your father, I will withhold comment. I do not wish for his wrath to be brought to my doorstep."

Loki puffed up indignantly. "I work only for myself and as this concerns Eleanora, I can assure you that whatever you have to say will not reach my father's ears."

"Right," the Healer said dryly, "and I'm supposed to believe the word of a liar?"

"Mom!" Eleanora cut in sharply. "Leave him alone. Whatever story you're going to tell, you might as well say it to both of us to save me the trouble of sharing it with him later."

The two women held each other's gazes for a moment, with Elin being taken aback by her daughter's protectiveness over the prince. The god merely sat smugly in the aftermath of her defense, pleased that she would take his side. Finally, Elin relented and her shoulders slumped a little in defeat. 

"Fine," she allowed tiredly. "Well, here it is."

Elin spoke for a long time then, starting first with the visions of a bright light that she had seen in her dreams many months before the Star had fallen. It had led her to watching the skies, waiting to see that same streak of illumination light up the night sky. It had happened on the day that Asgard had won the battle against Jotunheim: in the same hour, the same second, that the other Star, Aðalbjörg, let out her last breath, Eleanora fell to Asgard. Busy with the aftermath of the battle, Odin couldn't get to the Star in time, allowing Elin to find her first.

Magnus, the soldier that she'd fallen in love with, was the first person that she went to with news about the Star. She knew that she could trust him with her life, and with the life of her new daughter as well. She had urged him to keep the girl— whom she decided would be called Eleanora— safe and not alert the king, even though doing so would be considered treason. It hadn't taken much convincing before the soldier agreed, knowing that a baby would need more protection than the Allfather.

The Healer said that if things had worked out, Magnus would have been Eleanora's father. But, unfortunately, not everything went as smoothly as they had hoped. Both Elin and Magnus knew that they couldn't hide a Star in the palace forever, and that Eleanora shouldn't be brought before the king— not after what had happened to Aðalbjörg. So, they devised a plan to escape the palace late at night and find somewhere else to live, away from Odin's machinations.

One of the king's informants had alerted him of the Star's presence. Determined to have this Star as well, he set out to find her, going so far as to track the fleeing trio with his seiðr. They had been cornered in the woods outside of Asgard's main city where a river flowed out from a cave. ("The passageway between worlds! We used that!" Eleanora had interrupted as recognition dawned on her.) Magnus was holding his own as best he could with some help from Elin, but she hadn't been trained to fight like he had and was of little help with a baby in her arms.

The soldier was outnumbered ten to one, not including the Allfather. As they were driven back into the cave, Magnus told Elin to follow the tunnel while he held them off; maybe there was a back entrance they could use to escape, and he would join them when he could. It was futile, they both knew, and she hadn't wanted to leave him, but they had the Star to think about. So, with a final, loving glance towards the brave soldier, she fled into the cave. Half expecting to be met with solid rock, she was surprised when it had kept going. . . and going. . . and going, until she emerged on the other side to a completely different world.

"And that is why I can never go back to the palace," Elin finished sadly, her gaze downcast to the wooden surface of the table. "There are too many memories— both good and bad— that I would have to relive, not to mention what the esteemed Allfather might do to me if he ever found out that I was the one who stole his precious Star."

"I understand, mom," Eleanora replied, reaching across the table to gently squeeze the older woman's hand. Although she wished that it could be different, she would never want to risk the only family she had— whether that be Elin or Loki— in any scenario.