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❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴛ ꒱


❝ IN EXCHANGE FOR A POWERFUL
CLOAKING SPELL, YOU WILL
 GIVE US THE LOCATION [. . .] OF
THE STAR. ALL OATHS ARE
BINDING. NO REFUNDS. ❞

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A S G A R D

Before Loki could truly set out on his quest, there was one stop that he had to make. He wasn't particularly looking forward to it, but it was a necessary evil. The Watcher of the Nine Realms, Heimdall, would be able to track his progress and report his movements to his father, which wasn't. . . ideal. He wasn't skilled enough yet to consistently keep up a cloaking spell that powerful and he didn't want to ask such a thing of his mother, who might feel a certain loyalty to her husband. He would rather Heimdall find it suspicious to not know his plans at all rather than tell Odin exactly what he was doing.

Being a man of shadows, he knew how to listen for echoes of discontent in the halls of Asgard's palace. He could conceal himself from the servants and listen to their gossip. Most if it was idle, yes, but there were a certain few, namely soldiers and prison-guards, who knew of more. . . unsavory beings who lived in the Realm Eternal (as much as his father pretended to believe otherwise.)

He had overheard rumors of three rather unscrupulous witches who lived in the outreaches of society. They were magically powerful and would undoubtedly have the strength to give him the spell he required. The one drawback was that he would have to give them something of equal value in return, but that was no matter. As a prince, he had access to much of the realm's riches and other resources that they might find worthwhile to trade for.

Their house (if you could call it that) was run down, certainly not up to the standards he was used to. It had once been a beautiful gothic structure, with black detail and gargoyle statues that guarded the entrance. There were large, tall windows that let in a surprising amount of light— for beings so entrenched in the dark arts, that is. It was backed up against tall outcropping of rocks that provided a natural barrier and a waterfall flowed behind it, crashing into a deep pool below. It would have been picturesque if not for the sense of evil that lingered even when the witches weren't home.

Masking his sneer of disdain at the poor upkeep, he wished that he could use an illusion to conceal his true self, but he could see their runes etched in the wood even from where he was standing. Loki remembered one of his mother's first, earliest warnings from her magic lessons: only the witch that casts the runes in a given space can cast their magic. So, he had no choice but to appear as he was, even if that gave the witches an advantage.

The door swung open before he even had a chance to knock; he suspected that the witches could sense another seiðr-wielder on their property. He straightened, creating an air of dignity and prestige around himself, even though he felt quite the opposite as he stepped into their territory. A sense of unease crawled over him as their magic stole his away, leaving him defenseless. There was no one immediately visible, though that did not surprise him; he assumed that they were seizing him up before they made their appearance.

Inside was just as ornate as the exterior. There were wide, sweeping staircases with handrails of wrought-iron. A dozen black, cobwebbed chandeliers hung from the ceiling. At the head of the room, a fountain sat between two of the curved staircases that lead up to the balcony on the second level. The interior would have truly rivaled some of the palace's more spectacular rooms had there not been a fine layer of dust that coated everything or the cobwebs that hid in every corner, or the mildewed smell that came from the faded tapestries.

"Ladies," Loki called into the silence of the house, his voice smooth as it took over the charm that he was known for, "you would not keep your prince waiting, would you?"

A woman materialized from the shadows and it took all of his royal upbringing to not jump back with revulsion. His sources had not warned him of how old the witches would be; indeed, this one appeared older than the Allfather himself. She had deep lines etched into every crevice of her face. Her hair was long and matted down her back, coiled in unkempt curls. Dark robes billowed around her form, but from her arms he could tell that she was skinny— gaunt was a more apt description.

"My prince," the old woman rasped, a deep croak that made it sound as if one good cough would help her speak more clearly. "My apologies to keep you. My sisters and I are not use to such. . ." She looked him up and down and not-so-subtly licked her lips. "Esteemed visitors. Have you been sent by the revered Allfather himself to rid us from his kingdom?"

The dark-haired prince forced a laugh, though to anyone else it would have sounded like careless amusement. "My dear lady, there is no need to fear; I am not here on my father's orders. I come on my own terms."

"Oh?" She began to walk around him slowly, as if stalking prey. He resisted the urge to shudder and instead searched for the familiar tug of his magic. As expected, there wasn't any. "And what brings such an honored guest to our humble abode?"

"I seek a spell," Loki said bluntly, deciding that getting right to the point was best. "I wish to keep my movements from my father and his entourage hidden."

He was grateful when the old woman stopped her circling when she was in front of him once again, but then she bared her teeth— broken and yellowed— in a resemblance of a smile. He wished she would go back to circling him. "You have come to the right place, my prince. After all, how do you think that your precious Watcher has yet to alert your father to send his forces to break down our doors? But if I may ask, why would a little princeling like yourself wish to hide from your father?"

Loki waved a dismissive hand. "Not important. Time is of the essence, I'm afraid. If you wish to aid me, I would reward you well for your efforts."

The witch chuckled, though it was high pitched and menacing— fitting her stereotype. "You are a bold one, certainly, princeling. Tell me, what would you give me—" There was a cough from somewhere in the room. "Yes, yes, of course. Us in exchange for such a powerful spell?"

"Riches?" he suggested. "Rare ingredients?"

She let out another one of her bone-chilling laughs, this time with a more mocking edge. "I do not wish for items from Asgard's vaults, prince. They are expendable and easily used up. This spell will require a massive amount of energy from me and my sisters. That is hardly a suitable exchange."

"Then what would you request of me?" the prince questioned her, spreading his arms as if to say 'ask away.'

"Information," the old woman replied. "Ideas are terribly hard to get rid of once introduced to the world, don't you agree? As prince, you have an ear to all the goings-on of the Realm Eternal." The last two words were sneered as if the nickname of Asgard was an insult.

Loki sighed inwardly. He'd been prepared to give up his most useful piece of information since he had full confidence that he could beat three witches in a battle if it came down to it (perhaps a little too much confidence for, as his mother always reminded him, he was still learning), but that still didn't mean he wanted to share the news about the Star. "Very well. The spell first, then payment."

The witch scowled. "Do you take me for a fool, princeling? How do I know that you have any information worthy of such an undertaking?"

"Of course not, sorceress," he agreed, his tone just barely apologetic. "It would only be fitting that I should tell you the nature of the news I bear. Perhaps you have already heard for yourself in your divinations, but there has been word that a Star—"

There were gasps from the unseen witches in the room. Two more old woman, both more decrepit than the last, emerged from the shadows with wide, hungry eyes. "Is that true, princeling?"

The witch he had been speaking with turned and snapped at her sister, "I thought I had told you to stay hidden, Helena."

Neither of the women would be cowed, though, as the thought of a Star was far too intriguing. Loki stood his ground despite the creeping disquiet as the three women, their expressions reminding him of snarling, stray dogs, crowded in on his space. The shorter of the trio— who had yet to speak— lurched forward and grasped the front of his leathers.

"Where is this Star, princeling?" she growled. Spittle sprayed from her lips and she positively reeked of desperation.

His mask of collected calm faltered for a moment as he cautiously tried to peel her fingers— more like claws— from the fabric. The lead witch (he assumed) grabbed her sister's arm and yanked her back. "Get ahold of yourself, Heidi. It does not do to assault our royal guest."

She flashed another yellow-toothed smile at him. "My apologies, my prince. My sisters forget themselves; I knew their manners would be deplorable, which is why I asked them to stay hidden." She hissed out the last two words in furious reproach. The old woman turned back to him with an attempt at a diplomatic expression. "It seems that your information is suitable for the task ahead. In exchange for a powerful cloaking spell, you will give us the location— as exact as you have—of the Star. All oaths are binding. No refunds."

✧ ✧ ✧

"You are a fool," the youngest witch, Heidi, snapped at her eldest sister. "You gave the prince all of the tools he needed to find the Star. How are we supposed to get its heart if he gets there first?"

The head witch, Herja, gave her sister a thin-lipped smile. "Watch yourself, Heidi. I am still your elder and you will treat me with respect. Or would you rather end up like our fourth sister?"

That earned a puzzled look from Heidi, momentarily breaking their tension. "We don't have a fourth sister."

Herja's smile turned sinister. "Exactly. Now, do you really think I would have given the princeling everything he asked for?" When both of her sisters glanced at each other apprehensively, she scoffed. "Of course not. Along with that helpful little cloaking spell he asked for, I wove an undetectable tracking spell so he will lead us to the Star and it will be ours for the taking."

"Very well," Helena allowed. While Herja was conniving and Heidi was jealous, the middle sister was the most mellow of the three. "What about the secret passages he asked of?"

"A passageway between realms?" Herja echoed the prince's tone mockingly. "Such an upstart, impertinent little thing. It is true that I gave him the answers he wanted, but not necessarily the ones he was looking for. After all, he only asked about a passageway— not the passageway. So, I gave him one that will take him to Vanaheim first. It will still get him to Asgard, certainly, but it will buy us enough time to catch up to him."

"That's all very well and good," Heidi said in a tone that implied she thought the opposite, "but how will we catch up to a prince with seiðr? Would you have us use a Babylon candle?"

"Now who is the fool?" Herja snarked. "You used the last one, Heidi, two hundred years ago. Do you not recall?"

"Perhaps we can obtain another," Helena offered mildly.

The eldest sister turned on her then, sneering at her stupidity. "Perhaps we can obtain another," Herja mimicked her. "Has your mind become as decrepit as your face, Helena? You speak as if such things are freely available."

"I know, sister, I merely thought. . ."

"Perhaps you shouldn't think," the oldest witch retorted. "I will not hunt for another Babylon candle while our prince takes the Star for himself. Idiot. There's no time to waste. If we must retrieve it on foot, then we shall. Let us decide who goes after our prize."

Heidi scowled and went over to one of the cages that lined the walls. The sisters kept all sorts of animals for their use, which they had hidden— just as they had concealed themselves— from the prince to make their home appear more hospitable. She unlocked a cage containing a ferret and picked up the squealing animal. Ignoring the little claws that scratched at her skin, she returned to her sisters. She placed the squirming rodent on the table. Picking up the nearest knife, she mercilessly stabbed it into the animal's flesh and tore through fur, skin and bone.

The ferret stopped struggling at once, falling limp on the surface. Disregarding its recent death, the three sisters closed their eyes and reached into its carcass in search of the main organs. Herja cheated and peeked through her lashes to make sure she got the winning organ. When they pulled their hands back, they opened their eyes and revealed their prizes.

"I've his kidney," Heidi announced.

"I've his liver," Helena said.

Herja smirked. "And I've his heart."

The trio went over to a cupboard and Helena opened the cabinet. The shelves were completely bare— minus even more dust— except for a single, grubby box. The middle witch sister lifted it up, pulling to free of the cobwebs that clung to its sides and placed it on the table underneath the cupboard. She lifted the lid almost reverently and the three witches stared at the shining item inside.

"You'll be needing what's left of the last Star," Helena murmured.

Herja pursed her lips. "There's not much left."

Heidi's face split into a grin that showed of her rotting, yellowed teeth. "Soon, there'll be plenty for us all."

The eldest witch picked up what was remaining of the last Star's heart— Odin had abandoned her corpse on the battlefield, the poor thing. It had burned itself out for Asgard and yet he did not even deign to give it proper burial rites. No matter; the witches had made sure to put their scavenging to good use. After all, he (or she) who consumed the heart of the Star was gifted with eternal life. And yes, Asgardians did live naturally long lives but for some, five thousand years was simply not enough.

The Star's heart glowed in Herja's fist as she lifted it to her lips, pulsing slightly as if it were still filled with life. She did not hesitate and stuffed the organ into her mouth with a triumphant yell. The change was noticeable immediately: her hair smoothed out into long, luxurious golden curls. Her face lost its deep wrinkles and became younger. Her body filled out in the right places and thinned in others, transforming into the figure of a beautiful young woman.

✧ ✧ ✧

A L F H E I M

Nighttime came late on Alfheim. As it was the home of the Light Elves, it was one of the realms with the longest daylight at any given time of the year. Eleanora took full advantage of this and often stayed out until the time it would normally be well past dark on other planets.

Today her chosen spot was at the top of a tall tree— one of the significant flora of Alfheim were its ginormous trees, which had trunks so wide that not even a giant could wrap their arms around them. Its branches started low and were thick all the way to the top, making for excellent climbing holds. At the top of the tree, Eleanora could see so far into the distance that she swore the spires of Stormhold standing out against the green of the lands. (This was largely untrue, of course, as the high mountains that surrounded the city mostly blocked it from view.)

Lost in her book, Eleanora was unaware of time slipping away until the light around her began to fade. Looking up in dismay, she could see the sun throwing its last rays over the treetops as it sank out of sight. Norns, the scolding she'll hear from her mother when she'll get home.

Before she could even begin her descent, a blinding, orange light appeared out of the sky. For a moment, it looked like a shooting star— except she knew what those were like, and this blaze of light was too direct to be a being falling from the sky. It was aimed right at her, but she was too frozen to even think about moving. The light was so intense that she screwed up her eyes against the glare.

If she had kept her eyes open, she would have seen a man at the center of the glowing light. He came careening towards her, too fast to stop, too fast to do anything but crash right into her. Eleanora let out a startled yelp as the force sent both of them tumbling out of the tree. Branches whipped at them from either side as they crashed towards the forest floor. She was certain she'd lost her grip on her book and she hoped that she would find it again after they landed.

When they finally did hit the ground, there was a sickening crunch that made tears spring to her eyes due to the pain that shot up her leg. There was also a heavy weight on top of her— the man that she had not seen before. He was sprawled against her, his head full of dark curls resting against hers with his face just above the dirt. His arms were on either side of her head— had he been protecting her during the fall? The thought made her stomach flutter. His legs were on either side of hers, thankfully not pressing against the one that she thought was surely broken.

It only took him a second to recover and, when he did, he placed his hands on either side of her head to push himself up, lifting his weight off of her. And— oh, his eyes were so pretty.

That was the first thing she noticed about him: they were a shifting blue-green. In the current lighting, they looked more green, like pine needles. The rest of his face only added to her initial observation: his dark hair curled around his ears, stopping at his sharp jaw. He had a regal nose, she thought— had she had experience with any sort of royalty. The longer she stared at him, the more familiar he seemed to become, as if she'd seen him in a memory, or a hologram, or. . . a dream.

Her heart stopped for a moment as she realized that this man was her dream-boy; she was certain of it. The mischievous sparkle in his eyes was there, spelling trouble for whoever was on the receiving end of his pranks. There was a slight curve to his lips as if he was in on a secret that no one else knew.

He hadn't said anything for the entire time they'd been staring at each other, as if he was taking her in, too. Then, he spoke. His voice was smooth and warm as honey, just as she'd always imagined, and it made her shiver. "You're just a girl."

Eleanora frowned, half-wishing he'd never spoken at all. "I'm sorry to disappoint you. Were you expecting something else?"

The man's expression became regretful and he shook his head. "My apologies, I did not mean to sound so blunt. When I had a destination in mind, I was not expecting you on the other side of it. However, I am more than pleased to be greeted by such a beautiful woman."

She blushed at his compliment and took back her previous wish. He could talk as much as he liked. "Um. . . may I ask why you're here? And why you were flying? Do you do that often? What's your name?"

He chuckled at all of her questions. "My, you're a curious one, aren't you?"

"It's not every day a mysterious man falls from the sky," she replied.

"Well, to answer your queries, no, I do not fly very often. In fact, that was my first time ever attempting to do so— hence the landing, which I apologize for, again. As for why I'm here, I'm seeking something for my father. And my name is Tristan." Loki chose to lie (expectedly) about his name as she did not seem to recognize him as a prince of Asgard. He could have cast an illusion on himself, but once he had captured her, neither his name nor appearance would matter. Besides, it was best to save his seiðr should something befall them.

That was when the prince realized he was still on top of the Star and he hastened to get off of it. He stood and offered her a hand. "How did you fair in the fall?"

Eleanora sat up and tentatively accepted his help, only managing to half-rise before she stumbled. He caught her, steadying her before she lost her balance. Wincing, she said, "I think I broke my ankle."

He glanced down with a look that could pass for concern. "But Aesir bones are reputably hard to break. Surely the fall was not that damaging?"

The blonde's expression hardened as she glared at him. "I'm not a drama queen, Tristan. I would not make up an injury just to be difficult. I live with my mother not far from here; if you would be so kind as to help walk me home?"

"Of course," Loki responded, though he had no intention of doing so. He offered his hand to her once more.

She leaned against him heavily to take the weight off of her wounded ankle. As soon as her hand was in his, the prince slid the metal chain that his mother had given him from his sleeve. The Star was too busy trying to stay upright to notice his movements. He did his best not to feel anything at all about the unfolding events as his father's voice in his mind reminded him that this was a Star— a tool to use in battle with no real feelings. Still, she had been nice to him about the rough landing, so he couldn't help but let a soft, "I'm sorry," slip out.

She turned to him in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

"For this," the dark-haired prince replied, latching the chain around her wrist. It glittered in the fading light. "Now, if I am not mistaken, this means you have to come with me. See, as I mentioned, I was seeking something for my father. That something was you, pet. I am Loki Odinson, and Odin Allfather has laid claim to the Star that fell after the Battle of Jotunheim."

Eleanora felt her blood go cold. She remembered the horror stories her mother had told her about Odin's desire for a Star. Any warm feelings she'd had for the man vanished (or so she tried to tell herself) as she tugged on the chain. Trying to project an annoyed front (rather than the panicked one that she was currently feeling), the blonde snapped, "hah, but of course! Nothing says fatherly pride like the gift of a kidnapped, injured woman! I'm not going anywhere with you."

A/n: another milestone! This is my first time ever writing an interaction between Loki/Eleanora, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Things will be off to a rocky start at first (thanks to Odin's influence on Loki's views about Stars not being people with feelings) but they will become fluffier/more romantic as time goes on :)