Chapter Text
“Time’s up.”
Loki sighed and stared down at his tablet as the screen blanked as the tutor retrieved the test. He had three problems left and he wasn’t sure about half the answers he figured out on the previous ones. He put down the stylus and looked over at his brother, who appeared disgruntled. “You should have given us more time.”
“I’m sorry, Prince Thor, but timed tests are timed for a reason. This doesn’t change simply because you are older and the problems more complex.” The redheaded man scrolled through his tablet and tapped the screen. The papers they’d written on one of the minor outbreaks of fighting on Vanaheim appeared on their respective screens.
Loki didn’t bother to look at his, rather more interested in Thor’s reddening face. “What’s wrong?”
Thor lifted his head and glared at Loki. “I’m sure that you know the correct answer to the question.”
The tutor sighed and interrupted before Loki could wind his brother up further. “Loki correctly examined all facets of the problem and showed that there was little that could be done to prevent the fighting from occurring. You merely focused on describing the strategy and tactics of fighting the conflict itself. That was not what I asked of you, my prince.”
Thor turned to glare at the tutor. “It’s what ended the matter. How is that not the most important thing?”
Loki could tell, from the pinched brow, that their tutor was holding back a sigh. He’d been fighting this battle with Thor for years now. Loki said, “Sometimes, how it ends isn’t as important as why it began. If you know that, you can help prevent similar occurrences in the future.”
Thor shook his head but before he could respond, the clock placed on a waist-high cabinet in the corner of the room chimed twice. The tutor said, “That’s it for the day, then. Prince Thor, read the next two chapters in your political theory book. Prince Loki, I need your paper on religion on Svartalfheim in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. That had been done days ago. There wasn’t much information about Svartalfheim in the library. But he supposed the tutor knew that.
Thor jerkily nodded his head, stuffed his tablet into his shoulder bag, and stood up, the wooden chair scrapping across the tile floor. The tutor winced but said nothing. He turned to tidy up the classroom as Loki stood, only now flicking through the comments the tutor had left on his paper.
When he left the room, the door automatically closing behind him, he nearly dropped his tablet when he ran into his brother. “Thor! You can’t stop in front of doors like that!”
His brother crossed his arms. “How do you do that? You’re ahead of me in mathematics and science and you understand politics. I’m older than you and it’s not fair.”
Loki slipped his tablet into his bag and shrugged. “Studying magic, I suppose. I need to know how it fits around them and to do that, I need to know them. Also, I like knowing how and why people think like they do.”
Thor shook his head. “But it doesn’t make sense half of the time. It seems as if would be easier to fight everything out.”
“Then there would be no one left to farm. And armies need to eat.”
“You’re right, they do.” Thor uncrossed his arms. “Are you coming to the training yard with me?”
“I have an essay to research and write for Mother.”
Thor snorted. “Another essay? Loki, you’re going to ruin your vision.”
“I have to compare and contrast three different schools on how to create and maintain illusions and then do an in-depth study on my preferred method. Forgive me if I need to spend time in the library.”
Thor placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “If you emerge from the depths of the stacks before supper, you know where to find me.”
He walked off whistling, his mood better but not fully restored to his usual good cheer. That, Loki knew, would come about with trading blows on the training sands.
Loki shook his head. He kept up with the requirements necessary for one of his rank and had even discovered a love for throwing knives in recent years, but he’d prefer to be in the library. There was so much to learn-- especially if he could sneak into the sections that his parents and the librarians felt he was too young for.
* * * * *
Loki walked into the library, dropped off two books at the circulation desk, and nearly ran into one of the visiting Alfen diplomats on his way around the holographic display of Yggdrasil and the Nine Realms placed in the center of the library. “Pardon me!”
The redheaded Alf smiled at him. “No worries, your royal highness. I was not watching where I walked, either.”
He moved out of Loki’s way and Loki half-turned to watch him walk out of the library, wondering what he was looking for in here. He shrugged to himself and decided to ask the man later. It was likely of no importance: the main room in the library was open for any guest and there was ordinary fiction to peruse in it. But there was no harm in indulging his curiosity later.
He shifted his bag on his shoulder and hurried down the aisle leading to the metal door and the steps beyond it that allowed access to the rest of the library’s vast collection. He walked down to the third level and exited the plain stone staircase, weaving his way between bookcases until he reached his favored alcove, the one with that allowed afternoon sunlight in through diamond-pane windows to shine on the large table and cushioned bench seats. He sat down, spread his books out on the table, tapped his tablet awake, and sent his tutor the essay on Svartalfheim religion.
He stared down at the tablet and then up at the dark wood bookcases filled with leather-bound books in front of him. He already had two disciplines ready to synthesize into the paper-- he’d already written the section about which he preferred-- but he didn’t have the third. It was likely a test of his research skills, as Mother had only offhandedly mentioned a few others. He rubbed his forehead and pulled the nearest book over to him to at least finish the compare and contrast section with the material he had at hand. It wouldn’t take him long.
After another hour, he put down the stylus and stacked all of the books to one side. Time to stretch and he could just as easily do that while hunting for the third method in the section on illusions.
He set a light ward so no one would bother his belongings and headed off into the stacks, running his fingers along some books he’d already read and some which he knew were too advanced for him but wanted to read regardless. But he wasn’t going to risk the consequences of overreaching his magic: he’d already faced nosebleeds and days of exhaustion but he would not risk death. Not when he knew he would eventually be able to read them without risking it.
He sighed and turned the corner of the aisle to finally reach the section on theory of illusions. The shelf at eye level covered his preferred method, but he scanned the shelves around it, pulling books off at random to skim through them but always putting them back. None of them looked the slightest bit interesting. He ran his finger along the top of the row beneath the one he perused and the sudden dip of his finger brought him out of his scanning pattern.
He frowned and pulled the short book off the shelf. The Art of Wizardry. The gold leaf lettering shown against the black leather in the library’s dim light. He’d never seen the book before, but it looked new, which probably explained that. And he knew enough about wizardry to know that wizards could make illusions.
He smirked. Wizardry was a form of magic, if only technically, and not one that he’d be able to use without being offered and accepting the Oath. The book prickled in his hands and he sighed. Mother would probably make him redo the entire essay if he used wizardry as his third. So he grabbed one of the other books and tucked both under his arm. Reading the former would just mean the essay would take a little longer than he’d thought. Or he could wait until he’d finished writing-- but he didn’t want to. There was so much about wizardry he didn’t know, and even if this book was likely about wizards using illusions in artworks, it would still be more interesting than another book pontificating about why its theory of illusion was superior to all others.
But he did put The Art of Wizardry on the other side of his tablet when he reached his alcove and curled up with the other theory book. Better to write the essay first so he could read for pleasure without disappointing his mother.
* * * * *
After supper and spending an hour working on his essay, Loki shut off the tablet. He’d spent enough time on it today; he could finish it tomorrow afternoon. He spun his chair around and stood up, heading over to the green couch placed underneath the windows. The Art of Wizardry lay on a cushion, waiting for him to open it, despite him not having completed his essay.
Loki settled himself into a corner of the couch and pulled the book over to him. He ran his fingers over the soft leather cover and flipped open the cover, skipping the index and heading straight for the introduction.
Wizardry on Asgard is not an unknown Art. It is respected as it is in all cultures where wizards can practice openly, for the battle to slow the heat death of the universe is never ending and always worth fighting. However, there are those who disagree about the respect wizards receive.
For those chosen few who become wizards, the rewards of wizardry are great: to fight in the war against the Lone Power, to correct wrongs done, to keep the universe and everything in it alive for just that little while longer.
There are dangers, of course. Each wizard must pass an Ordeal upon taking the Wizard’s Oath. Upon passing, wizards will be placed on errantry when they are needed. Often, errantry will put wizards in harm’s way and many wizards die of it. This is a risk that all wizards willingly accept; it is written in the Oath.
Wizardry requires learning the Speech, the language that the All-tongue is closely descended from. The Speech allows a wizard to communicate with trees, animals, mechanical objects, and with all manners of being. Life exists even in places non-wizards would not expect. The Speech, of course, is also the language of wizardry: all spells are written in it and mastery of wizardry requires mastery of the Speech.
This manual will help you learn it, and more besides, if you choose to take the Oath.
Loki slammed the book shut, holding in at arm’s length and staring at it. He swallowed, once. No wonder he had never seen this book before: the Powers had placed it in the library specifically for him.
He took a deep breath and reopened the manual.
Think carefully before you decide you want to risk the dangers and the rewards. There is no shame if you choose not to: for choice is at the heart of the universe. Wizardry does not live in the unwilling heart. But if you choose to swear the Oath, you will be one who fights in the front lines of battle-- and you will be welcomed wholeheartedly.
Loki flipped the page, hardly daring to breathe. There on the next page was the Wizard’s Oath in simple black text on white paper, set alone on the page.
He stared at the words, nervousness and elation twirling in his stomach. Did he want to do this? Did he want to fight in the battle against the Lone One? Would he be willing to give up his life if needed? Did he want to prove that he could be more than the prince second in line for the throne, one who never seemed to measure up to what most of court wanted from him?
Yes, to all of it.
Loki took a deep breath. “I swear in Life’s Name and for Life’s Sake that I will use the Art solely in service to that Life. I will fight in the battle to guard growth and ease pain. Despite that battle, I will take no life without need. I will fight to preserve life in its varied forms. Nor will I change that life unnecessarily: only when its growth or that of its system are threatened, or if they threaten another. In the practice of my Art, I will put aside fear for courage and death for life, when it is fitting to do so-- until Universe’s end.”
The room echoed him slightly and a chill went down Loki’s spine. He stared at the Oath another minute and then gently shut the book and placed it on top of the pile of unread books on his end table. Tomorrow he would look through it. Tonight he needed to consider the magnitude of his actions-- and how he would inform his parents.
* * * * *
The next morning, in the hour before luncheon, Loki knocked on his mother’s workroom door. She bid him enter and greeted him with a smile. “How is your essay coming along?”
Loki closed the door and toed off his shoes, padding across the carpeted floor in socks. “I should finish writing it this afternoon, but I’ll need more time to edit it, of course.”
“Then what is the pensive look for?”
Frigga patted the bench next to her and Loki sat down. “What do you know about the Speech?”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Ah. I wondered if you’d stumble across any reference books on wizarding illusions.” She sighed. “It is not an offense to not be offered wizardry. Many worthy people are not and the Powers keep their secrets as to why that is. As for the Speech-- if you wish to learn it, I don’t think it would be terribly difficult. Non-wizards use it for interspecies relations, though we in the Nine Realms prefer the All-tongue.”
“Why?”
“Lying is impossible in the Speech and what else is diplomacy but carefully concealing truths?”
Loki snorted. “Gaining the upper hand so your people don’t suffer unduly? The art of manipulating people to do what you want them to? But there has to be some trust that truths are told or agreements would break constantly. Look at Father’s truce with Jotunheim-- it’s held for over six hundred years.”
“But how much of that is due to the Jotuns being unable to travel?”
“I don’t know; I’ve never been there.”
Frigga wrapped an arm around his shoulder and squeezed him. “And you have no reason to go.”
“I’m still curious, though. We don’t have many books about them.” Maybe his manual would have more information.
“You’re curious about everything, Loki. Maybe you need to direct it a bit more-- toward your illusions, perhaps?”
Loki smiled. “One of these days, I’ll be able to fool you.”
“Yes, you will-- and I look forward to it. Now, I need to finish this tapestry before luncheon. I’ll see you later this afternoon, dear.”
Loki put his shoes back on and left her workroom. He trailed a hand against the cool metal walls. He’d had an opportunity then to tell Mother that he was a wizard, but it had slipped through his grasp. But there would be others; he’d been a wizard for less than a day.
He stumbled a bit that and sat down on a nearby bench overlooking one of the rivers leading to the great edge ocean. What would his Ordeal consist of? What would he be called to do? He didn’t know anything about Ordeals save that they were dangerous-- and his manual was in his room so he couldn’t look it up in any depth before luncheon.
* * * * *
Between one thing and another, he didn’t have the time to look it up at all until late evening. And even then, his manual was of little help. It said merely that each Ordeal was personal.
Loki rolled his eyes. If the Powers didn’t want to give him details, then why tantalize him with hints? Given that wizardry worked on belief, maybe They didn’t want him to contaminate it with how he thought it should go. Or maybe the test included him walking blindly into it.
That… seemed the most likely option. Wizardry was about helping the universe and that trusting that the Powers knew what They were doing even if They never told him the reasons. And if They wanted to test his commitment to the Oath he had sworn by not giving him information, then he would simply have to handle that and work out what to do on his own.
He flipped to the directory, stared down at his entry on the page (still listed as Probationary) and then went to the section on the categories of spells. That at least was basic information he’d need no matter what happened.
He fell asleep on his couch reading and woke up at midnight with a crick in his neck. He groaned, shoved the book off his lap onto the cushion next to him, and rubbed his neck before standing and getting ready for bed. Too many nights like this one and he’d be useless for everything: his training master would hound him out of the ring, which Thor would never ignore; he’d disappoint Father by not being at his best when there were diplomatic guests in Asgard actively working (rather than the usual day-to-day dealings with the embassies); and Mother would not work with him on magic unless he could stay awake without relying on tea or another stimulant.
He woke up only slightly rested the next morning and cursed that he had to spend all morning in the training ring. He could have used the time to sleep. He slid out of bed, stumbled into his bathing room, and got ready for the day. He peered at his chin in the mirror, but as usual, there was still no need to shave. He kicked the door frame on his way out. Something else Thor would lord over him: at least this was harmless but annoying.
When he walked by the couch, he looked at his manual and picked it up to place on his desk. If he was facing his Ordeal, he needed to stop treating it like pleasure reading and actually study it. Even if it meant sacrificing his magic lessons with Mother.
* * * * *
Loki pushed open the knotwork-carved wooden doors of the royal family’s breakfast room. Thor was already discussing something with Odin, the former waving his fork full of sausage around in the air to emphasize his point. Frigga looked up from reading something on her tablet and gave him a soft smile. “Good morning, Loki.”
“Good morning, Mother, Father,” Loki said as he walked over to the buffet. He choose a plate of scrambled eggs, a slice of bacon, and a pile of fresh fruit. He sat down at his normal place across from Odin. “Thor, chew with your mouth closed.”
His brother gave him a look, but shut his mouth. Frigga asked, “Did you sleep well?”
He glanced at Odin before picking up his fork and stabbing a melon square. “Not as well as I could have.”
“Why not?”
Loki sighed. “I stayed up late reading and fell asleep on my couch.”
“Loki, we have talked about this--”
“I know, Father. I try not to, but this was important.” There.
“I’m sure it wasn’t as important as making sure you’re well rested for the feast tonight.”
Loki bit his tongue and took a deep breath. “I was reading my wizard’s manual.”
Thor dropped his fork with a clatter on his porcelain plate and Frigga’s face lit up. “That’s wonderful! You knew yesterday; that’s why you asked--”
“You’re a what?”
Loki met Odin’s eye. “I swore the Wizard’s Oath two nights ago. I am listed in the manual as a probationary wizard. I will shortly be undergoing my Ordeal.”
Odin’s mouth worked. “I never imagined that you would be offered this. Loki, becoming a wizard places the universe above your duty to Asgard. You are second in line for the throne! It is a betrayal of everything--”
Loki stood up and put his hands flat on the table. “It is not. You raised us to protect Asgard and the Nine Realms and what better way to do that than by actively fighting the Lone Power?” He gestured at Thor. “Everyone knows he will be king. And this is what I want to do. It is no less of a service.”
Odin stood up. “If you do not renounce your Oath-- and I know full well you are able to-- then you will no longer be in the line of succession. I cannot have a possible successor who would leave Asgard on a moment’s notice if his duty as a wizard called him elsewhere.”
“Fine.” Loki stormed out of the room, ignoring Mother calling after him. Thor had done nothing but stare at him. Once the door slammed shut, Loki rubbed his face. That had not gone as he had expected.
He returned to his room, summoned a servant to bring him a plate of toast and boysenberry jam, and sat down at his desk to look at his manual. He had a little while before he had to leave for training. The book flipped open to the directory. Loki froze when he saw the new listing underneath his name: On Ordeal.
* * * * *
Loki kept his mind on the target, hitting it more often than not and using his magic to retrieve the knife after every throw. His instructor Ari came over to him after the fifth off-center throw. “Loki, what’s wrong?”
Loki kicked the sand and threw the knife at the target again, this time hitting dead center. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Then keep watching where you aim. If you master controlling your anger now, you’ll have an advantage on the battlefield.”
Not that he was likely to see one, not with Odin’s fury. “Yes, sir.”
He kept his focus for the rest of the time on the field-- and then his anger flared again when he spotted Thor leaning against a column. “What do you want?”
Thor huffed. “To talk, brother. I’m not upset at you. I just thought--”
“Not here.” Loki marched up to the royal wing with Thor at his heals. Once they were safely ensconced in the privacy of Loki’s chambers, Loki put his knife on the table where he kept the rest of his weapons and glared at Thor. “What were you going to tell me?”
“That I’m happy for you. It’s an honor, Loki. Father knows that.”
“Father thinks I’ve betrayed my responsibilities to Asgard. If we were any other family, I know he’d be happy. But we aren’t and he isn’t.”
“It was a shock, Loki. He’ll change his mind.”
“Have you ever known him to?”
Thor shifted his weight. “At times, when doing so is the wiser course of action.”
Loki moved into his main chamber. “And what do you think?”
“I think both of you are right-- but I also know that you would make a good king even if you are a wizard.”
Loki thinned his lips. Even if. “Even if. You’re more on his side than you realize.”
“Loki…”
“Just go, Thor.”
Loki didn’t turn around to watch him leave, but he heard Thor walk out of the room and close the door behind him. Loki sank down onto his couch and glared at his manual. “You said wizards were respected on Asgard. Why didn’t you mention that the All-father thinks of us as little better than traitors? Or maybe it’s just me.”
He leaned back with a sigh, tilting his head up and staring at the stone ceiling. The problem was that he could see the validity in his father’s opinion. Maybe that was why he was a wizard: it sounded like communication and diplomacy were just as important, if not more so, than the actual spells. And he was learning to become an effective negotiator, far more than Thor was.
That was why it hurt to hear he’d no longer be in the line of succession: he’d never stopped hoping Odin would choose him to be king instead. And he’d set the last nail in the funeral boat of that hope himself.
He sighed and stood up. He needed to bathe before luncheon-- but there was enough time for him to have a long soak: and time enough to read more in his manual.
* * * * *
When Loki knocked on the door and slipped into Frigga’s workroom for his magic lesson, she stood up and hugged him. “Oh, Loki, I’m so proud of you.”
“I--”
“Don’t apologize. I assumed you’d. It’s my fault for you not finding the opportunity to tell me yesterday. Please forgive me?”
“Of course, Mother.”
They sat down on one of the cushioned benches lining the walls. Loki looked at his hand and then up at her face. “Father… Do you think he’ll ever be proud of me?”
She placed a hand on his cheek. “Oh, Loki. He’s proud of you now. He knows how rare wizardry is and how precious. But you upset his hopes for you.”
Loki snorted. “The ones where I counseled Thor to no avail? The ones where I’m the scapegoat of everything going wrong in the palace simply because I like mischief? The ones where peers laugh at me because I’m spending more time learning magic than learning all of the weapons I possibly could?”
“No, Loki. The one where you became a respected advisor to the throne and Asgard’s ambassador to the Nine Realms.”
Loki shook his head. “How does being a wizard mean I’m incapable of doing that?”
Frigga sighed. “Wizards rarely lie, Loki.”
He blinked. His manual had mentioned that it was impossible to lie in the Speech. But to not lie at all? Impossible on the face of it. But wizardry relied on the truth… He would need to think on this later. “And negotiations can rely on falsehoods being believed.” He shook his head. “But that’s not all they are. And that’s not all ambassadors do.”
“He’ll come to see it as an advantage in time, Loki.”
“Not that it will make much of a difference. If I’m removed from the line of succession, then court has no reason to listen to me.”
Frigga straightened. “You won’t be removed. I will not allow that to happen. Being a wizard is not a disqualification and I will notallow court to think otherwise.” She sighed. “Not that anyone outside of our family knows.”
“Heimdall.”
“He has no reason to not keep this quiet until we wish it known.”
“Mother, I’m on Ordeal. It may not be possible to keep it secret even if I wished to.”
She sat back. “You… want it known?”
Loki took a deep breath. “If I pass my Ordeal, yes, I do. If I am to start being more honest, then I will not keep this a secret.”
Frigga embraced him. “You are growing into a fine young man, Loki.” She released him. “How did your manual come to you?”
“I found it in the library.” He pulled the book out of his bag and handed it to her. “I don’t think you’ll be able to see it for it what it really is.”
She glanced at the title and flipped through the pages. “I see very little. Only the introduction and the index is written in the All-tongue.” She handed it back to him. “Which simply means that this is your book, Loki.”
He smiled and slipped it back into his bag. “I know. They can’t be stolen or lost or misplaced-- and you need to be a wizard to read them.”
“I believe it is a security issue.”
Loki nodded. “It is. Not simply against the Lone One, but against those who could conceivably use the information to cause harm.”
“The same reason we keep some information classified. It’s nothing strange to me.” She kissed his forehead. “That you will learn things I have not: I have always hoped you would find your own way out from under the shadows your father and brother cast. You’re doing that, Loki, by your own choices. And those choices are something you should be proud of.”
Loki smiled. “I am, despite the trouble they have caused.”
“Good. Now, I think it is time both of us prepare for the feast.”
He nodded and stood up. “Thank you, Mother.”
She smiled. “You’re my son, Loki. I could do no less.”
* * * * *
Loki stared down from his seat at the high table at the carousing guests, many of them already in their cups even though the feast was only half over. He sighed and leaned forward to look at the diplomats seated on the far side of the table. They were seated with members of Odin’s council and he could not help but wonder what the diplomats had heard about him from the councilors.
At least Thor was behaving himself. But then, tensions in their family were already running high and he likely didn’t want to bring Mother’s wrath down on himself. Besides, the head diplomat had brought along his elder daughter and Thor had not taken his eyes off her the entire meal.
Loki stabbed a piece of broccoli stem with his fork. He’d have skipped the feast if he could have. He hated being in the center of attention when most would compare him with Thor: Thor who had gone through the worst of his growth spurts and was bulking up nicely-- the image of a proper Asgardian. Loki was still well aware that he looked like a child and too many treated him like one because of it.
He took a deep breath and ate the broccoli. If he behaved petulantly, it would give them one more reason to think that. And it would make it harder on him when the truth about him being a wizard was told: he knew people would wonder if he even deserved the honor. He would not give them more ammunition.
After the feast ended, servants swiftly moved in to move many of the tables to the wall so there would be space for dancing. When the music began, Loki stayed near the walls, watching the men in their metallic tunics and women in their long dresses spinning around.
Sif came over to him with a wry expression on her face. “I suppose that we had better dance soon enough. I rather doubt Thor will think of me when he’s preoccupied.”
Loki snorted. “At least he won’t do more than mere infatuation. As they’re leaving in two days, the distance will work well enough to calm him.”
Sif raised an eyebrow. “The time is coming when he’ll do more than stare. At least she doesn’t seem to mind the attention.”
“Why would she? She’s attractive and knows it. And knows better than to refuse the attentions of the eldest prince of Asgard.”
Sif turned fully to look at him. “You sound bitter.”
Loki shrugged and sipped from his cup of watered wine. “When it seems as if it’s all but sworn that Thor will ascend to the throne? I know how people talk about me, Sif. I hear them sometimes.”
“Maybe if you acted more… normal.”
Loki bit back laughter. “Like you do?”
Sif twitched her dress. “Point scored. Maybe if you made more of an effort on the training grounds? Proving that you’ll at least be able to hold your own in battle might help.”
“When Thor has had decades more experience than and excels at almost every weapon he tries? I’m better at the staff and the svärdstav than swords, axes, and hammers-- and now I’m learning throwing knives. None of that--”
“Odin has Gungnir.”
Loki shrugged. “I don’t think that matters. How much of what he does is excused because he is the All-father?” He shook his head. “I know I’m different, Sif. At this point, I’m going to stop denying it. I need to work within my own strengths.”
Sif gave him a strange look and drained her goblet, putting it on the table behind them. “Then prove your strength in dancing to me.”
“Certainly, my lady.” He quirked a smile and escorted her onto the dance floor.
When the music stopped at the end of the song so the musicians could switch places, they left the dance floor. Sif headed over to a group of noblewomen her age and Loki stopped long enough to grab a goblet of water before weaving through the crowd to step onto the balcony.
He leaned against the railing, sipping his water, and let the bustle of the crowd and sound of music fade into unintelligibility. He looked up at the stars. What kind of life was out there? What would he see? What would he do?
When a boot scuffed on the stone, Loki turned slightly to see the diplomat he’d nearly run into in the far corner of the balcony, likewise leaning on the railing with a goblet in his hand. Loki straightened and went over to him. “Good evening.”
The redheaded man smiled. “Good evening, Prince Loki. How are you doing?”
“Well. Yourself? Did you find what you were looking for in the library?”
“I did! It’s not much, I suppose, but there’s this author here whose books are banned on Alfheim. I like reading her when I visit; there’s usually one or two more books in the series.”
Loki tilted his head. He’d never considered that books written on Asgard would be banned elsewhere. “What author?”
“Ah. I… I believe her books are more appropriate for an adult audience, your royal highness.”
That nonsense again. Odin had given him the talk about how not to sire bastards a while ago. He knew full well what sex was. “I believe that should be for me to decide.”
“Of course, your royal highness. The author is Alví Laugudottir.”
“Thank you.”
The Alf stared awkwardly for a moment before blurting, “Forgive me for asking, but are you sure you are doing well?”
Loki sighed and bit back his temper. “I am well.”
“Tensions at table seemed… fraught.”
Loki said, “It is a family matter between the All-father and myself. It does not affect the diplomatic proceedings and thus is none of your concern.”
“I just… An outside eye can be useful. And I have a son your age at home. I may be able to explain why your father…”
“I doubt it. I did something he disapproved of. That is all.”
“Ah. Can you not stop doing whatever it is?”
Loki stared at the man. “This conversation is done.”
He walked away, back into the hall, his temper nearly at the point where he’d be tempted to join Thor in upending tables if he thought it would help. What sort of man-- no, what of diplomat would dare to question him like that? Had he really thought gaining Loki’s confidence would be that easy?
He slammed the goblet down onto a table collecting empty ones and went to find the head diplomat and one of his parents to make his excuses and also to warn his parents about the overly curious diplomat. He did not want to be in this room a moment longer.
He took the long way back to the royal wing, wandering through one of the gardens to let the peaceful night calm him. It did not entirely work, so he made his way back to his chambers and curled up on the comfortable seat on his balcony, his manual unopened in his lap.
He didn’t want to let the diplomat’s words in-- but they had already sunk hooks into his mind. What would happen if he gave up wizardry?
He would remain in the line of succession.
Father would be pleased.
Father would also think him less for breaking an oath-- but he would not be surprised Loki had done it given the other promises he’d broken.
Mother… would not fully understand.
Thor would likely be relieved nothing would change.
The court would never know that Odin considered him to have betrayed Asgard.
And what would he do?
He’d know he’d have set the heat death of the universe forward just that little bit. He’d broken an oath he’d meant and wanted to swear. He’d know the Powers would be disappointed, though they’d never let him know that. And most of all: there would be so much knowledge that he could learn that would be forever out of his reach.
Loki looked down at his manual and traced a finger along the title. He wanted to fight the Lone One. He wanted to slow the heat death of the universe. And that meant keeping his wizardry, no matter how disappointed Odin would be.
Loki felt a sense of peace steal over him now that his decision had been made.
* * * * *
The next morning, after a breakfast taken in his chambers, Loki knocked on the door to Odin’s study. “Enter.”
Loki pushed open the door and shoved it closed behind him. He walked to stand directly in front of Odin’s massive desk. His father looked up from the paperwork and speared him with his gaze. “What is it, Loki?”
Loki took a deep breath. “I will remain a wizard.”
Odin leaned back in his chair, his expression changing from annoyance to concern. “It is a hard life, Loki.”
“And being king is easy?”
Odin half-smiled and then sobered. “Your mother convinced me not to remove you from the line of succession officially. Unofficially, however? You will not be allowed to sit on the throne.”
Loki took a deep breath, not letting the sick feeling inside of him to gain precedence. “Who will know of this unofficial arrangement?”
“Just our family and Heimdall. I will not risk you being harmed, Loki. Removing you officially would do that.”
“Yet you were considering doing so.”
“Your mother knocked sense into me, son. That was one of the reasons why.” He sighed. “I also talked to the Planetary Wizard. She assured me that as long as you are under the age of majority and living in my household that the Powers That Be would respect my wishes regarding you being placed on errantry outside of the Nine Realms: namely, that you not be.”
Loki nodded. “And if errantry requires me to leave the Realms regardless?”
Odin sighed and rubbed his forehead just above his eye patch. “Then you will leave. This abrogation of my authority over you is one of the reasons I feel you have betrayed Asgard: you no longer answer directly to me.”
“As long as your orders do not conflict--” Loki stopped. Yes, he saw Odin’s point. “Father, I want to be a wizard. If I give this up…” He took a deep breath. “I will behave as I ought to as an Odinson. Being a wizard does not change my loyalty to Asgard. It has been and always will be my home. Nothing will change that.”
“I am glad to hear that, my son. But you answer to other Powers now.” He stood up and walked around the desk. He stood awkwardly for a moment before resting a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “It is not only your loyalty I fear for. I fear that I will lose you, Loki. It is the part of a father to be concerned for the well-being of his son.”
“Thank you, Father.” He could point out that Odin could just as easily lose Thor on the battlefield, but now was not the time. “I will leave you to your work.”
Odin squeezed his shoulder and released Loki. “Go well, son.”
Loki bowed slightly and left the room. When the door closed, he leaned against it and let out a breath. Now to return to his room to grab his weapons for morning practice.
But when he entered his chambers, his manual lay open on his desk. He frowned and walked over to it. None of the servants had been in to clean; it was too early for them to arrive. So who had been in here and what were they hoping to find?
When he peered at the open page, his mouth dropped open. It had not been open to the Oath as he’d half-feared, but to the directory: where he was now listed as a journeyman wizard. His Ordeal had been completed.
He sank down into his chair. But he hadn't done anything: he hadn’t gone off-world. He hadn’t fought the Lone Power. Instead, he’d decided to keep his Oath in the face of near-universal disapproval. Even the Alfen diplomat had advised him to stop doing whatever his father disliked.
A chill went down his spine. A diplomat-- or the Lone One? He would likely never know.
But if that was all that was required for Ordeals, why had his manual mentioned how dangerous they were? He rubbed his forehead and resolved to seek out this Planetary Wizard his father had mentioned. Maybe she would have an answer. But until then…
Loki snapped the book shut. He could not spend all day thinking in circles. He grabbed his throwing knife and left his chambers.