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Loki loved spending time with his mother, especially if they got the chance to be away from Asgard. He was away from the responsibilities and expectations of being a Prince. He could be himself, learn about the world and its magic without prejudice looming above him.
This time in particular, they were visiting Alfheim. Those kinds of visits were absolutely the best in his mind. Elves held great appreciation for the arts, luxury (some might even say decadence , but perhaps Asgardian nobility was worse in that aspect), magic, and hitting targets from a distance. Asgardian hunting parties were all about catching up to the game and pierce it with a sword, or smash the head with a hammer.
Elven hunters though, were something else entirely. They always wore brightly coloured clothes, for the specific reason that a blood drop would show if it stained them. They took pride in managing to keep their clothes untouched, and it was a show of skill. Loki appreciated that kind of flair.
Music was the most beloved of arts amongst elves. Music didn’t demand tools like sculpting did. Anyone could sing if they could speak
And then, it was the mages. All elves had a hint of magic in them. To a large majority, it was a level of protection from other magic. Others had elemental magic, while some possessed a form of clairvoyance that few believed was possible. Frigga herself had a bit of it as well, but sometimes, she seeked council from another. This is what brought them here.
Here , being a small elf village in the middle of a forest, somewhere in the depths of the Realm. Hollow tree trunks housed the elven homes, and decorative carvings at entrances revealed their guests’ identities. Frigga’s hand hovers over carved runes reading wanderer , and knocks. The door opens by itself, and they walk in.
The single room is plain, a lush carpet and heavy pillows, and an elven woman showing something to an elven boy. Possibly she’s teaching him about clairvoyance, after all, that kind of mages were traditionally wanderers. They travelled from settlement to settlement, carrying nothing more than their meager belongings where they went. They either camped away from communities, or hosted in the guest homes different settlements had. Loki, to be honest, didn’t get it. What kind of life could one have by wandering? In Asgard, the only wanderers were thieves, beggars and charlatans. These, the woman and the boy, were probably like that.
His mother whispers a name and the woman catches it. She turns, and the stranger woman’s whole expression changes. It’s bright, enchanting, and she gets up and runs towards them, hugging Frigga and not letting go. She cries, and Loki thinks she’s too expressionless to be sincere.
“Frigga, it’s been a long while! I missed you. So much.”
Frigga returns the woman’s affections. “ Salistra ” she mutters, “forgive me, Mina.” The word is familiar to him. It means that this person is bonded to his mother as a sister, through magic, in a similar way Argardian warriors are bound through battle and are named shield brothers.
“Come, sit with me.” she says and drags them into the pillows. “You barely visit anymore, not even to consult me.”
“And for that, I apologise.”
“And I forgive you.” she turns to the boy, and smiles lovingly. “Son, darling, go play, lessons are over. Clint was waiting for you, wasn’t he?”
“Can Loki come too?” he asks, and the woman laughs. Loki just wonders how he knew his name. “If he so desires.” she replies. His mother sends him away with the strange boy.
The boy leads him out and it’s this moment that pays attention to what is wearing. Different layers of colourful fabrics, some plain, others decorated with patterns. There's a vibrant red that reminds him of fruit, a yellow bright as the sunlight. Another one is a shade of blue with horizontal lines that reminds him of stories of ice giants. A bracelet of golden thread and countless beads decorates his left hand. It hurts to look at it, if he were to be honest with himself, and he planned to let the other boy know as long as they were out of their mothers' earshot.
"Your clothes are an eyesore." he says, with no hesitation. The boy simply shrugs and, before having the chance to say anything, another one yells "your face is an eyesore!". A surprise, to be sure, because no one valuing their lives would ever dare speak to an Asgardian prince like that.
Another boy approaches, with a girl on his side. He has a shortbow and a half empty quiver on his back. The girl has a simple set of throwing knives strapped around her waist that make him envious. Both the bow and the knives have a fairly simplistic design, yet are extremely well crafted.
"I won't be responsible if the Prince decides to sentence you to death for being rude to him." the girl adds, but the three of them laugh quietly. It reminds him of his own longing to have close friends like that.
"I'm Nata." the girl introduces herself. "This idiot here is Clint. And you've already know Attuin, apparently." Loki nods.
Clint ignores him (rude!) to talk with the other elf boy instead. "You need to ask your mother to let you apprentice under the Smith! Your arrows are the best! It's a waste of talent to not do it."
"She promised she'll let me after I learn everything she has to teach me."
"And you believe her?"
It was the girl's turn to look offended. "Alta Mina keeps her word. She always did, and we all appreciate what she's done for us."
“He doesn’t have to get it.” Attuin replies. “Not everyone believes in it. And there are many who will lie and use it to take advantage of those who believe in it. It’s justified for him to think we’re like that.”
“You can prove it.” he finds himself saying. “She teaches you, right? You can try looking into my future, mr fortune teller .”
He nods. “Okay. Give me your hand.”
What?
“Don’t question it.” Clint says, and Loki hesitantly does.
Closing his eyes, while his pointer finger roams over the palm of his left hand, he begins his divination.
“You’re the kind of person that thrives in chaos.” he begins. “Others will claim that you are made of lies; yet this is only a half-truth. A perfect mirror. Parents, yet also not. How often have you been lied to?” he wonders to himself. Loki wants to say that he can see through lies, that he’s learnt how to do so, and how to force the truth out of someone. Yet the other doesn’t give him the time to do so, as he continues. “Do you count not telling the truth as equal to a lie?”
“Yes, obviously.”
“Have you not considered the Queen lying to you?” he questions. “Or hiding some truth from you?”
“She’s the Queen! What reason would she have to lie?”
“She could be forced; threatened.” he shrugs, and Loki just wants to use against him the strongest magic he can muster that moment. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“I will! And when I reveal to everyone what sort of a liar you are, you’ll beg for death!” he screams, and runs back to the house his mother is in.
“Is it true?” he asks, his voice trembling, and it sounds like he’s begging for it to be a sick joke, or a nightmare he’s going to wake from at any moment now.
Instead, Frigga runs to him, and lays herself on his feet. “I’m so sorry! You’re still my son, my baby boy that I loved the moment you smiled at me!”
The Alva walks closer to them. “A complex spellwork that only the caster can break, I’m afraid. Frigga can’t talk to anyone freely, unless the other knows what they’re talking about. Do you know what you have to ask?” and Loki does.
“Did you give birth to me?”
Frigga shakes her head.
“Who did?”
“Laufey. Odin stole you at the end of the war. But you’re still my son! I love you like my own flesh! Same as Thor, and he’s not my son by blood either.”
He doesn’t think at that moment, so he runs as fast as he can. He needs a quiet place for a bit, away from anyone, to think. He gets lost in his haste, but doesn’t get the chance to panic.
Attuin is there.
“I don’t need any kind of magic to tell she loves you.”
“I’m not her son.”
“Parents are those who raise us, Prince. Sometimes it overlaps with those who birthed us. Some others they don’t. It’s alright.”
“You don’t know how it is.”
“But I do. Mina is my mother. Not by blood, but she raised me, and I wouldn’t change that for anything in the world. I was old enough to remember being thrown away. She raised me, expecting nothing of me. I'm not as good as she is with the Crafts, but it makes her so happy when I ask her to teach me things.”
"What now then?"
"I don't know. But let's go back."
Now, turns out, they must leave. Frigga and Loki are to return to Asgard; the other two prepare to leave in favour of visiting relatives.
He can see the lie, right there. He confirms it later on, when Frigga begs him to act as if he doesn't know about his origin. Mina and Attuin leave so it'll be harder for Odin to find them. After all, it would have been so easy to arrest them and then have them killed.
They exchange a promise to meet again, Clint tries to be included, and so he does. Nata won't escape that fate. Before leaving, he takes one of his beaded bracelets and gently puts it through his left wrist. “It’s for protection.” he says. “And a reminder that you have true friends by your side.”
The words catch him by surprise. They’re honest, sincere. The other two nod. Friends of his own. Yes. He quite likes the sound of that.