Chapter Text
It was the first time Syn had been allowed to accompany her father to a Summit. The last one had been held in Vanaheim, when Syn was still in the nursery. She remembered it vaguely. Boe had been old enough to complain he didn't get to go. and Mother had taken them to the seaside for a couple of days to get their minds off of it.
This year, it was being held in Asgard, and since Odin had small children, Mother and Father had decided the whole family should go and visit. Boe could play with Odin's sons and Syn was supposed to sit quietly and practice her needlework while her mother chatted with the other queens.
That got boring after about ten minutes. And it took another twenty minutes for the queens' conversations to get sufficiently animated to distract her mother so that Syn could slip away without being questioned. When her absence was noted she'd probably be in trouble. But only when they found her.
She and Boe had been shown the royal gardens and the training ground the princes and private guard used. Syn liked gardens and plants and strongly considered wandering around there for a bit. But if she had only a limited time for fun, she was going to make the most of it. So she tucked up her skirts and climbed the wall into the training field where the boys were running around.
Boe was having a pretend sword fight with an equally blonde boy she assumed was one of the princes. Another boy, one with dark hair, was sitting the shadow of the wall reading a book.
Syn dropped down onto their side of the wall and went over to the boy with the book. "Why aren't you fighting?”
He looked at her. “It’s boring, I don’t like fighting.”
She glanced over at the boys. "I don't either, but they keep saying I'm not allowed to do it which only makes me want to more." She sat down in the dirt next to him, skirts fluffing out around her. "I'm Syn. What are you reading?”
“I’m Loki.” He held up the book. “It’s about a boy who finds a magic dragon.”
She titled her head to read the title. "Oh! We have that one. I read it last winter. There's a whole series.”
“I just started. Don’t tell me how it ends.” He smiled at her. “So you’re the Princess?”
"I am. That's my brother, Boe." She pointed at him. "I presume that's yours?”
“Yes. Thor. He’s the oldest, and my father’s favorite.”
"Boe's the oldest," she said. "And he's everyone's favorite.”
He gave her a solemn nod of solidarity. “I think it’s boring to be the favorite. You always have to do what people expect. And they look at you all the time.”
That had been partially a lie. She suspected he wouldn't mind being favorite at all. But he was right about the rest. "I managed to sneak away from Mother's boring tea.”
“Sometimes they have good cookies. But that’s about it.”
She nodded. The cookies had been good. "I'm going to go look at the garden," she said. "Since the others are being boring." She could usually convince her brother to let her play fight with him. But he had Thor today, and didn't need her, so her arguments wouldn't work.
Loki looked at her. “I could show you where all the good spots in the garden are.”
Syn grinned and got to her feet. "Come on then.”
He pulled himself up and dusted his clothes off. Thor and Boe didn’t even seem to notice when they left.
The garden was as pretty as she'd hoped. Loki did, in fact, know all the good spots, including a little hiding spot in the hedge maze, and tree with wide branches that was excellent for climbing. They ended the afternoon up there, tucked in the branches, him with his book and her with her knitting, relaxing in companionable silence.
“You’re a princess,” he said. “Why do you knit?”
"My nanny taught me," she replied. "I like having something to do with my hands, it helps me listen. Before she started teaching me needlework I used to tear things up, or twist my skirts so they were wrinkled beyond help.”
“Do you make things?”
"I do. I've made a couple blankets, and a pretend cape for Boe. And she's promised to teach me socks this winter.”
“Socks are small compared to blankets. I bet that takes five minutes.”
She laughed. "Socks are complicated. They take four needles.”
He tilted his head. “Do you have magic?”
"I do, but I'm just starting to learn how to use it.”
“My mother is teaching me.” He held out his hand, and made little fireworks in it. Grinning, she reached out and wiggled her fingers, a shower of sparks flowing from them. He moved his hand closer to hers, until his fireworks touched her sparks. To her surprise the seemed to merge, making something large and colorful.
Startled, they broth stopped, but Syn was still grinning. "That was neat.”
He grinned back. “I don’t know how we did that.”
"Me neither. Even Boe and I can't do stuff like that yet.”
“I hope you come to visit more,” he said. “We should be friends.”
Syn's only real friend was her brother, and even he liked to ditch her to play with the noble's sons. So this pronouncement made her beam. "I'd like that.”
That was the last time Syn went to Asgard for over one thousand years. Before the next summit could be held, Asgard invaded Alfheim. Odin accused her father of treason and plotting against him, lies that anyone who knew her family should be able to see through. Soldiers swarmed the palace. She saw one cut her mother down with a halberd, while she hid in a cabinet.
Boe picked up a sword from a fallen guard and tried to fight back, almost losing his own life in the process. Syn stopped the Asgardian from killing him, earning herself a long scar on her left arm. She learned that with enough motivation, her magic could throw a grown man across a room. She also learned that, if necessary, she could half carry her brother a very long way.
A fleeing servant took pity on them and put them on a wagon heading out of the capital. They ended up in a town far in the country called Lakefire, where a shepherd and his wife took them in. They grew and thrived in Lakefire, learning magic and weapons as well as shepherding and farm work. As she grew, her time as a princess and the opulent halls of the palace sometimes seemed like a dream. She thought, sometimes, that she could be happy as a shepherd's daughter. Marry a country man and have babies. Let Asgard keep Alfheim under its thumb. It didn't effect them.
But Boe didn't forget. It was no dream to him. He was the heir and he had been wronged. And while he grew up happy in Lakefire, he wanted Asgard and Odin to pay for what they'd done. And, as always, Syn went with him, in the hopes she could prevent him from getting himself hurt.
It led to a battle they weren't prepared for. For the second time in her life she watched an Asgardian strike her brother down with a sword. And it ended in her second trip to Asgard, this time in chains.
She was placed in Asgard’s prisons, in a shimmering gold cell. Odin looked at her with contempt, told her her brother was dead—as if she hadn’t seen him take a sword to the hilt in the chest—and that she was alive because his wife had a soft heart.
She wondered what lies everyone had been told. She wondered if Odin believed the lies himself.
The worst part of the prison was boredom. She spent the first day testing the bars of her cage. Her magic worked, but couldn't permeate the barriers that held her. The second day she paced, ignoring the taunts of the other prisoners.
The third day she ate her breakfast then sat in the center of the cell and meditated. If there was nothing to do here, she would pretend she was elsewhere.
The fourth day, she had an unexpected visitor. Well, not so much a visitor, as the translucent, flickering projection of the man her friend from the garden had become.
She studied the illusion a moment, tilting her head and squinting. "You must be very good at that, for me to see it.”
“I’ve been told my skill at magic is exemplary.”
"Good for you.”
“Did you really start an insurrection?”
"I did," she said, picking at a loose thread on her rough hewn gown. "It didn't go well.”
He was peering at her. “Why?”
"We weren't ready. We had fighting experience but not battle savvy. I wanted to find a tactician, get support from nobles. But my brother-" She paused, swallowing the rough stab of pain thinking of Boe caused. There was a hole inside her that was never, ever going to heal. Her whole family was gone. "He was impatient.”
Loki was still watching her, remarkably hard to read. “If you by some chance were set free, would you go home? Or go off and find somewhere new?”
"I would go home," she said firmly. "I've lost everything else, I refuse to lose my realm as well.”
He nodded, and then said, “In the mean time, don’t make trouble. And I’ll see what I can do.”
She arched a brow and was about to ask what that meant, but he was already gone.
*
Asgardians loved to brag. Nothing entertained people at banquets quite so much as boastful tales of battles. Loki had heard a lot of them over the years. From his father, from his brother, from his friends.
The thing that interested him, that fascinated him, was what they didn’t brag about. No one ever talked about what happened on Alfheim. Not the first time, and not now, though they had a captive princess in their dungeon. A princess all the realms had been told were dead.
Loki was certain his mother knew more than she was saying.
"You know I try not to involve myself in your father's politics," she said with a sigh, picking at a misaligned thread in her loom. "My counsel is not invited.”
“He was always quite clear that Hoenir’s children were dead. It was a peasant uprising, wasn’t it? And they called Asgard for help?”
"I was unaware the children had survived until your father showed up with the princess as a prisoner. They must have been smuggled out of the castle, but she's hardly in the mood to explain.”
“I’m starting to think I should try asking.”
Mother glanced over at him. "Why the interest?”
Loki sighed. “I don’t know. I feel sorry for her, I suppose.”
She went back to her weaving. "Your father keeps many secrets. Some are for his benefit. Others, I think, are for mine. Be careful where curiosity takes you. Some things you can't unlearn.”
That was how she dealt with the sides of Odin she didn’t like. She just didn’t look. “I didn’t promise to love him, Mother. I don’t have to.”
Her hands stilled and he wondered if he'd hurt her. "Fair enough." She started weaving again. "There are still things a man may not want to know about his father.”
“Perhaps I’d like to see him as he is, not how I wish he’d be.”
"As you say. Well, you can trust anything she decides to tell you. The royals of Alfheim can't lie.”
That actually made him turn and look at her fully. “I did not know that.”
"Several generations back, an ancestor of hers betrayed an ancestor of mine. They cursed the royal line to be unable to commit such a betrayal again. Over the years it has twisted. No one of Alfan royal blood can tell a lie and they see the lies of others. Glamours don't work on them, nor do illusions. Nor do forgetting spells.”
No wonder she was impressed she could see him. “That is interesting to know.”
Mother smiled. "I thought you might find it so.”
Loki ought to mind his own business. He knew that. He just wasn’t very good at doing what he ought.
He got sucked into some sort of meeting about military endeavors with his brother that seemed to mostly involve bragging. He spent most of it thinking about the princess downstairs.
"Is everything all right?" Thor asked when they were walking out of the meeting. "You were quiet. Even for you.”
“What do you know about Alfheim?”
Thor shrugged. "Not much. And nothing that makes sense, if I'm honest.”
That was an interesting comment. “What confuses you?”
"Little things. It was supposed to have been a peasant uprising that killed the king, but now the peasants support the prince and princess. Who were supposed to be dead. Hoenir was an ally and friend, but no one was ever tried for the deaths. The prince and princess went to war against the Steward. But they're the rightful rulers, they should have been able to just present themselves and have the throne. It's very easy to determine if an Alfan Royal is legitimate for not.”
“Those things don’t sound particularly little.”
"I suppose I mean that any one of them could be explained away, but taken as whole." He paused. "We both know there's darkness in our family's history. Look what happened to the Dark Elves.”
Loki wondered, idly, if Syn knew more about history than he did, because she couldn’t be told sanitized stories. “It does make one wonder.”
"It does." Thor was not as. . . doggedly inquisitive as Loki, but he was far from stupid. He clearly saw the cracks in their father's stories and lies. His out look seemed to be that he would fix it when he was king. Which was probably little comfort to the people being stepped on.
Odin called for Thor again, and he went, because Thor was dutiful. Loki went down to the library. He had some research to do. And perhaps the princess would like some things to read.
Later that night, after supper, when the guards were changing over and no one was paying much attention, he went down to the prison in person, glamoured so only she would know who he really was. Under his arm he had a small stack of books for her.
She was as he had found her the day before, sitting cross legged in the center of her cell, eyes closed, breath slow. She opened one eye when he stopped in front of her and her brow arched. "Back in person this time?”
He held up the stack. “I thought you might like some entertainment. I recall you liked to read.”
Her other eye opened and she studied him a moment. "I do.”
Loki nodded, and used his magic to move the books over to her side of the barrier. She picked up the top one and glanced through the first few pages, then moved to the next one. When she got to the last one she held it up. "Complete History of Alfheim?”
“I am…interested in your review of its accuracy.”
Her brow arched again, this time accompanied by her mouth quirking up into a smirk. "I may need a red pen.”
That was an easy thing to grab, and he had one materialize atop the book.
Her mouth quirked farther up, the other side threatening to get involved. Picking up the pen, she twirled it between her fingers. "I'll be thorough.”
“Thank you, your highness,” he said, bowing his head.
Her eyes narrowed, as if she suspect he was teasing. But she didn't say anything, inclining her head in dismissal.
*
The history book should have been filed in fiction. The first half wasn't too bad. Its story of Syn's great grandfather betraying the Vanir king was sensationalized but not necessarily wrong. Several things after that had been tweaked. Odin's father, Bor, clearly hadn't liked her grandfather, Oison and several of their encounters were portrayed differently in her history lessons than they were in this book.
When it came to the death of her parents, she really got to work out her red pen. Her father was portrayed as a weak man, hated by his people. A peasant uprising was blamed for his death and she and Boe were listed as dead. She scribbled notes in the margins and blank spaces at the end of chapters.
The book more or less ended with the institution of the Steward and the "union of the realms." On the blank last page she wrote, in big letters, "Has he told you about Hela?”
Loki returned for the books, and brought her new ones. He came back that evening, very late.
“Who is Hela?”
Well, that answered that. "Odin's eldest child. And the reason my parents are dead.”
He stared at her in silence, and then flicked his fingers. There was a flash of green, and then he was in the cell with her. “Tell me.”
He was taller than he looked standing outside. Syn made a point of not moving. "Before he married your mother Odin had a daughter. Named Hela. She was his general in 'uniting' the realms." She made quotes with her fingers. "Mostly by conquest and bloodshed. When everyone was dead or under his thumb, he decided he was done. Hela wanted to keep going. There were realms outside the nine she had her eye on. Odin couldn't stop her, so he locked her away somewhere and erased her from history. Including casting a very powerful forgetting spell on all the realms. A spell that didn't work on my father, or his.”
She could see him straighten a little, and take a breath. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and she realized he was angry. Sure enough, there was danger in his voice when he spoke. “And when Odin discovered that…”
"He couldn't risk having that information out." She twirled the pen he had given her from one finger to another. "I knew some of this from what I had heard from my parents. Some is rumor and inference. My father knew Odin's deepest secret. And eventually, that meant his death. I don't know if there was a catalyst for that. It's possible my father made a threat. The attack wasn't long after the realm summit we met at. That timing is enough to make me suspicious.”
“Stands to reason if he thought you knew, he’d kill you, too.”
"I was informed I'm alive because Frigga has a soft spot. I have no idea why that was enough to save my life.”
“My mother avoids what she can, and interferes with what she can’t avoid, I believe.”
"I'd have preferred the axe to a life in this cage," she informed him.
He inclined his head. “Stick around, you might get it.”
With a gesture at the barrier and walls around them, she said, "I don't have much choice.”
His gave her an enigmatic smile. “You might be surprised.”
Syn didn't trust people who spoke in riddles. And she certainly didn't trust any Asgardians. "Why are you talking to me?”
“Because I think this entire situation is wrong. Because I don’t know what else he’d do to protect his lie.”
He was telling the truth, which was interesting. She had always imagined the people of Asgard quietly believing everything they were told. Certainly anyone who lived in the palace had a vested interest in believing the lies they were fed. A royal house that held peace at the end of a blade couldn't afford naysayers. "Odin fancies himself a unifier. Ask the people of Jotunheim, Muspelheim, and Niflheim how united they feel.”
Loki inclined his head, and after a moment said, “You don’t trust me.”
"Not a bit.”
He held out his hands, not quite at her, just in her general direction. He closed his eyes, and slowly his hands turned blue. It disappeared beneath his sleeves, and then reappeared at his neck and crept upwards to his face.
She watched it, equal parts fascinated and stunned. When he opened his eyes again they were red and she could see the tribal lines on his face and wrists. Reaching a hand out she held it a fraction of an inch over his hand and could feel the emanating cold. "You're Jotun.”
“Supposedly I was abandoned, Odin found me after the battle and brought me home.”
"An infant as a war prize." She took her hand back and his skin slowly turned back to normal. "You understand what he's like better than others.”
“I do. And I understand I am not his flesh and blood. And now I know his terrible secret.”
"You aren't afflicted with a truth curse.”
“No, but I am occasional afflicted with a conscience. Occasionally.” He sounded displeased but resigned about that.
Hope was a dangerous thing, when one had lost everything. "Don't help me on a whim. I've lost too much already.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you mostly I was helping myself?”
"Yes," she said immediately. Altruism she didn't trust. Selfish reasons she understood.
“It would piss my father off immensely. Something I think I would very much enjoy doing.”
She smiled a little. "What if I told you I wanted him dead? Would you still want to help me?”
“Depends, would killing him let my demon sister loose? I suspect it would.”
Well, it had been a hypothetical. Still, she wasn't used to debating with someone on her level. It was refreshing. "He deserves punishment for what he's done.”
“I can’t say that I disagree. But it would be difficult to arrange that from in here.”
"Very true." She twirled the pen again, glancing down at her hands. Her nails were chipped and there was a crack on her knuckle that she hadn't bothered to heal. "If you decided to help me. I suppose I would accept it.”
A smile spread scores his face. “Well, then. Don’t get too comfortable.”
"I'll do my best.”
Loki nodded, and then vanished in a flash of green.