Chapter 9
Today, I woke to the soft glow of light filtering into my room and realized I was beginning to feel at home in the castle. Most of my immediate uncertainties had been dealt with, and with the people I knew now, I felt I could carve out a happy life within the palace. Yet, one thing still nagged at me—the lack of memories. It was hard not knowing where I came from or how I had traveled through time from Midgard to Asgard. I was still lost in thought when Yara entered my bedroom.
“Good morning, Princess Aurora,” she said brightly, her cheerful tone pulling me fully awake.
We spent a few moments discussing my schedule so she could select a suitable dress. After a refreshing shower, I let her work her magic. The dress she chose was lovely—elegant yet not nearly as extravagant as the one I had worn the night before. While I had adored that gown, I was relieved that daily life in the palace didn’t require such elaborate attire.
She helped me dress, opting for minimal jewelry and a simple yet stylish hairstyle. She took sections of my hair, weaving a few small braids and securing them back with a delicate hair comb, keeping my face clear.
As the morning stretched before me, I remembered Loki mentioning his training.
"Yara, Prince Loki told me he would be training this morning. Do members of the royal family practice fighting regularly?"
A smile played across her lips. "In Asgard, warriors are held in the highest esteem, so both princes train almost daily to refine their skills. Nearly every morning, you can find them, Lady Sif, and the Warriors Three at the training grounds within the palace. It’s quite the spectacle, and a great many people come to watch. Originally, these sessions were meant for the guards and warriors to learn from their techniques, but when the princes are involved, noblewomen tend to gather in abundance," she added with a giggle.
I had to admit, my curiosity was piqued. The previous night’s dinner had been filled with tales of battles and brawls, but it was hard to reconcile those stories with the warm, good-natured people I had met. They all seemed so kind and carefree—it was difficult to imagine them as fearsome warriors, though I knew that was naive.
"Yara, would it be improper for me to watch them train? I must say, I’m very interested in seeing Lady Sif in action."
"Not at all! If you wish, I could show you the way to the training yard."
I could tell she was excited by the idea, and I smiled. "Yes, please! I would love some company—and the opportunity to ask a few questions."
Navigating the palace took us a good fifteen minutes, but I was pleased to find I still recognized most of the route Loki had shown me. Even so, I was grateful to have Yara as my guide and companion. She was proving to be quite funny, and we chatted the entire way.
When we arrived, I took in the vast outdoor field Loki had once described to me. The training yard was divided into sections—one with sand, another with grass, and an area filled with large obstacle courses and strategically placed poles. To the side stood a slightly raised tribune where spectators could sit, and Yara guided me to a prime spot. My newfound status was evident as people instinctively moved aside, allowing us access to the best seats.
"This training yard is reserved for the royal family and the highest-ranking guards and warriors," she explained as we settled in. "Outside the palace, there are additional training grounds for lower-ranked guards and soldiers. But as you can see, this one is for the elite. Other warriors are permitted to observe and learn, and it’s even possible for them to challenge higher-ranking fighters. If they win, they can earn a promotion. It’s how Lady Sif rose through the ranks so quickly. She challenged every level and, in the end, even bested Thor in single combat—though he wasn’t allowed to use Mjolnir."
The admiration in her voice was unmistakable. It was clear she held Lady Sif in the highest regard. Our conversation was suddenly cut short as a group entered the field. I recognized both Loki and Thor, with Sif and the Warriors Three following closely behind. Clad in a mix of leather and armor, they looked every bit the formidable warriors. Sif, in particular, struck a balance between strength and beauty—intimidating yet graceful.
The seats around us quickly filled with spectators. I watched as Sif scanned the crowd, her gaze locking onto mine. A smile spread across her face, and I returned it with a small wave. It seemed she had alerted the others to my presence, as they all began making their way toward me.
I stood as they approached, meeting them at the fence that separated the tribune from the field. Thor’s booming voice greeted me first.
"Aurora! How good it is to see you this morning! To what do we owe this pleasure?" he bellowed, his enthusiasm infectious.
I couldn’t help but smile. "Good morning, everyone. I must admit, I was curious about your training. I’ve never seen Asgardian warriors in action, and after hearing your stories last night, I thought I’d come and watch. But now, seeing you in full armor, I have to say—you all look absolutely terrifying." My playful remark earned laughter and smiles all around.
A mischievous glint appeared in Sif’s eyes. "Well, since this is Aurora’s first time witnessing Asgardian combat, I believe we should put on a proper show." She turned to the others. "We wouldn’t want her thinking all of Thor’s dinner-table boasting is unfounded."
Thor’s surprised expression at her teasing nearly made me laugh aloud.
"What do you all think?" Sif asked the group. "Instead of a standard training session, let’s make things more interesting. I propose a group scenario: Thor, Loki, and myself against the Warriors Three. To keep things fair, no magic, no Mjolnir—only training weapons. If you receive a killing blow, you leave the field. The first team to eliminate all opponents wins. And to make it even more exciting, we’ll use the entire training yard."
Excitement flickered across their faces. After a moment’s consideration, they all agreed, their eagerness evident. Thor bellowed across the field, announcing the match. As the others went to retrieve their weapons, Loki lingered. That signature mischievous grin was firmly in place.
"You know, if you keep smiling like that, I might think you’re up to something," I murmured, lowering my voice so only he could hear.
"Dear Aurora, I’m always up to something," he replied, his smile nearly taking my breath away. "Let’s just say I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to settle a score with Fandral, and this might just be it." With a wink, he turned and strode off to prepare.
I resumed my seat next to Yara, explaining the group scenario to her when a shadow fell over us. Looking up, I found myself face to face with a certain handsome elf.
"Good morning, Princess Aurora," he greeted smoothly. "I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, and I was wondering if I might keep you company during the match."
I wasn’t sure why he would want to, but I knew better than to alienate royalty. So, there was only one proper response.
"Good morning, Prince Muriel. It would be my pleasure."
With that, Yara immediately vacated her seat, allowing the prince to sit. I understood why—she was a handmaiden, and this was expected of her. But it still irked me that she had to give up her place just because someone of higher rank wished to sit beside me.
"So, as I understand it, there will be a display of skill from the princes, Lady Sif, and the warriors—at your request?" he asked.
I studied him, trying to get a sense of his emotions, but reading elves was far more difficult than reading Asgardians. Normally, I could pick up on a person’s energy with ease, but with Prince Muriel, it was like trying to grasp mist. This surprised me—last night, at the dinner table, his coldness had been palpable. Perhaps it had to do with the intensity of his emotions. Still, I pushed the thought aside and answered his question.
"Well, yes, there will be a demonstration, but not at my request—more because I’m unfamiliar with their skills. I told them I was fortunate to be raised in peace, with little exposure to warriors or combat. They must have taken that as an challenge because they surprised me with this display."
Prince Muriel nodded.
"You have been fortunate indeed. The life of a warrior is not only difficult for themselves but for those they love. Asgard, however, seems to glorify such a life. I sincerely hope your stay here remains as peaceful as you have known. But as you can see..." He gestured toward the field, where Sif and the others were taking their places. "Asgardians are a race drawn to violence."
Before I could respond to his rather grim observation, the demonstration began.
The warriors fanned out across the yard, each locking onto their chosen opponent. Sif honed in on Hogun. Volstagg charged at Thor. And Loki—true to form—scaled a series of wooden poles with astonishing speed, already taunting Fandral from above.
I was immediately struck by how fast Thor and Volstagg moved. Both were massive, yet their speed defied their size. They wielded training swords, swinging with the reckless intensity of men who relished the fight.
Sif and Hogun’s duel was different—measured, strategic. Hogun wielded a mace, Sif a sword. They circled each other, exchanging deliberate strikes, testing one another’s reflexes. Compared to the raw force of Thor and Volstagg, their fight was almost elegant—a dance of attack and counter, movement and anticipation.
Meanwhile, Loki and Fandral engaged in a battle of agility, leaping effortlessly from pole to pole. Loki, armed with a long stave, struck repeatedly at Fandral’s legs, attempting to sweep him off balance. But Fandral was nimble, evading every strike and making Loki chase him in a dizzying display of footwork.
The crowd roared in excitement, and more people filled the seats, drawn in by the spectacle.
Prince Muriel’s voice came close to my ear.
"And which of them do you find most interesting to watch?"
His eyes never left the fight.
"I'm torn between Loki and Fandral and Sif and Hogun," I admitted, also unable to look away. "Loki and Fandral’s fight is thrilling because of the sheer speed and height. But Sif and Hogun… it’s mesmerizing the way they seem to anticipate each other’s every move."
The crowd erupted as Loki finally struck Fandral, sending him tumbling from the poles. My breath caught—I worried he might land badly—but with incredible control, he twisted midair and landed almost perfectly on his feet.
Loki called something down to him, but I couldn’t hear it over the noise. Whatever it was, Fandral’s face turned red with frustration, and he immediately scrambled back onto the poles, determined to continue.
I couldn’t help but smile at his tenacity.
"It seems Prince Loki has a score to settle," Muriel remarked coolly.
"What makes you say that?"
"I'm familiar with his fighting style. While he has improved, at this moment, he is playing—not fighting. If he truly wanted to win, he could have bested Fandral several times already. But he’s toying with him, like a cat with a mouse."
As if to prove his point, Fandral was sent tumbling a second time. Loki’s laughter rang out across the yard.
Just then, Volstagg let out a mighty roar and charged at Thor. Thor tried to sidestep, but he lost his footing, and Volstagg capitalized on the opening. He struck Thor square in the chest, sending him stumbling back. Instead of anger, Thor threw his head back and laughed, clapping Volstagg on the back before leaving the field.
Volstagg immediately shifted his focus to Sif and Hogun, still locked in combat nearby. He barreled toward Sif’s unguarded back, aiming to take her by surprise.
But Loki was faster.
In a blur, he sprinted across the beams with impossible speed. At the final pole, he threw his stave high into the air and reached into his leather armor. Silver flashed as small daggers flew from his hands, striking Volstagg’s chest mid-charge. They must have been fake, but the effect was impressive.
Then, with casual precision, Loki raised his hand and caught the falling stave without even looking.
Fandral saw his chance. While Loki’s back was turned, he dashed across the beams with startling speed, sword raised for a brutal strike.
I gasped.
But just before the blade could land, Loki twisted, parrying the attack with his stave. The force of the blow, however, threw him off balance, and he tumbled from the pole, landing hard on his back.
"This is why Loki gets himself into trouble," Prince Muriel murmured, his voice close. "He’s so focused on creating chaos that he forgets the first rule of combat."
"And that is?" I asked, glancing at him.
"That the only safe fight is a finished one. No games. No theatrics. Just efficiency. A dead opponent cannot harm you."
On the field, Loki was slow to rise. Sif immediately moved to shield him, fending off both Fandral and Hogun at once. She was magnificent—keeping them both at bay with skill and ferocity.
I began to worry that Loki was hurt, but then he pushed himself up, gripping his stave once more. He called out to Sif, and she shifted position. Now, she faced Fandral, while Loki took on Hogun.
Prince Muriel sighed.
"Finally, he’s making the right choice. Hogun’s weapon has less reach than Fandral’s sword—he should have been Loki’s target from the start."
I suddenly became aware of how close Muriel had shifted beside me, our arms touching. The unexpected contact sent a shiver down my spine. I tried to adjust, but the crowded tribune left no room to move.
With the physical contact, I could now sense his emotions—jumbled, indistinct, yet unsettling. I couldn’t quite grasp them, but they made me uneasy.
Before I could dwell on it, Loki swung his stave in a powerful arc, striking Hogun down. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sudden noise making me nearly jump. I had been too distracted by the prince his emotions that I forgot the fight.
I could hear him chuckle lightly, but I ignored him as Sif and Loki circled Fandral, who made a valiant effort to fend them both off. With a swift swing of Loki’s stave, Fandral’s sword went flying, leaving him defenceless as Sif’s blade pointed directly at his chest. The tribune erupted in applause, and I seized the moment to put some distance between myself and the prince. On the field, Thor and the others congratulated the winners.
Out of nowhere, Prince Muriel took my hand and turned me toward him. Amidst the cheers, he spoke softly, his words meant for my ears alone.
“Princess Aurora, please forgive my frankness, but I must warn you against your friendship with Loki. He is not the sort of person who can truly befriend anyone. The company he keeps are merely Thor’s friends, tolerating him for his brother’s sake. As for Thor, he is blind to the dangers Loki brings. You are a bright woman, and I fear his friendship will only bring you harm.”
His grip was iron and painful, unyielding no matter how I tried to pull away from his grip. His eyes bore into mine, pleading. The firm contact between our skin heightened my empathic connection, turning his emotions from a blur into sharp clarity. I could feel his anger toward Loki, his unwavering conviction that he was doing the right thing.
But anger burned within me as well. Who the hell did he think he was? I barely knew him, yet he presumed to dictate my friendships? I knew Loki well enough to judge his character for myself, and I cared little for whatever history lay between them. Who was he to interfere?
“My prince,” I said coolly, deliberately omitting his first name as an insult. “I will not tolerate anyone speaking ill of my dearest friend in my presence. Who I befriend is my decision and mine alone. While Loki has told me of the strife between you, that is your concern, not mine. I believe he has learned from his past and has shown me nothing but kindness. Before offering such personal advice, perhaps you should consider befriending someone first. For if I must choose between the word of a stranger and the word of a friend, I will always choose my friend—no matter how high the stranger’s rank.”
A flicker of anger crossed Muriel’s eyes, but I held his gaze unwaveringly.
“Now release my hand before I make you. I may not have your strength, but I assure you, I have more than enough Seiðr to handle you.”
I hoped he believed my bluff.
His eyes flickered toward the training ground, and from the corner of my eye, I saw my friends approaching. Loki had undoubtedly noticed.
To my surprise, Muriel bowed, then lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it lightly. When he looked up, our eyes met.
“My apologies, Princess Aurora. My interference was well-meant. Should you ever find yourself in need of a friend, I am at your service.”
With that, he released me and disappeared into the dispersing crowd.
The moment he was gone, Yara’s voice reached me, filled with concern.
“Princess, are you alright?”
She gently took my hand, and I glanced down, seeing bruises forming where Muriel had held me too tightly.
“I’m fine, Yara.”
I was shaking slightly, more from anger than anything else. I pulled my sleeve down to cover most of my hand. Before I could say more, Thor’s booming voice rang out.
“Princess Aurora, how did you find the spectacle?”
I gave Yara a reassuring smile and turned to the railing. The entire group watched me expectantly. Pushing aside my lingering anger, I reminded myself that they had put on a show for my enjoyment. Taking a deep breath, I smiled brightly.
“It was a grand spectacle indeed! Never have I seen such skill and movement. If I hadn’t known you before, I might have been too afraid to ever speak to you all again.”
Laughter erupted from them.
“But wait, let me see if I can join you down there.”
I glanced around for a way to descend from the tribune, but the departing crowd made it difficult. Before I could decide left or right, Loki stepped forward, lifting his arms just as Thor jumped onto the railing and offered his hand. I couldn’t help but smile at them.
Taking Thor’s hand, I swung my legs over the railing. With a nod of thanks, I let myself fall into Loki’s waiting arms. He caught me effortlessly, lowering me gently to the ground.
“I truly can’t comprehend how skilled you all are,” I said, standing amidst them. “How long does it take to train to this level?”
Hogun answered, “Æsir men begin their training as boys to learn the basics. But growing up within the royal court, we were expected to surpass the average soldier.”
“Except for Sif, of course,” Volstagg interjected. “She—”
Sif cut him off with a smirk. “I mastered the same training the boys endured in just a hundred years, while it took them over five hundred.”
I laughed at the sound of their male egos deflating.
“Well, that’s the lesson I’ll take from this,” I grinned, winking at Sif. “No matter how skilled men are, there will always be a woman to do it better and faster.”
Thor let out a great roar of laughter, while Volstagg and Hogun chuckled. Fandral and Loki, however, looked at me with wide eyes, as if I had spoken the most shocking truth.
Looping my arm through Sif’s, I led her toward the exit of the yard. It wasn’t long before the men caught up. As we reached the exit, they excused themselves to freshen up after their workout. All but Loki.
He stepped into a corner, waved his hand in an elaborate motion, and in an instant, he looked as though he had never fought at all. His hair was immaculate, his appearance refreshed, his armor replaced by his usual attire.
I did my best not to stare, but Loki caught my reaction and smirked. I scowled and playfully slapped his arm.
“Showoff!” I scolded, but winced as I inadvertently used my bruised hand.
Loki caught my wrist before I could pull away, gently lifting my sleeve. The finger-shaped bruises stood stark against my skin.
The moment he pieced everything together, I felt anger flare within him. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice carefully controlled, yet seething beneath the surface.
“What happened between you and Muriel?”
I let out a slow breath, allowing my happy mask to slip. But before I could respond, a soldier entered the yard. I caught them glancing our way, their gaze lingering.
It must have been a strange sight—Loki and me standing in a secluded corner, his hand holding mine.
Loki must have noticed, too. Without hesitation, he shifted my bruised hand into the crook of his arm and, without another glance, guided me into the hallway.
We walked in silence, the only sound our footsteps against the stone. It wasn’t until we neared the library that I realized where he was taking me.
When we reached the grand room, he released my arm and motioned toward the stairs on the left—his private library.
I climbed the steps with him close behind. When I reached for the book that would open the passage, he merely nodded. I pulled it, and the hidden door swung open.
Something was different.
The space looked… neater. Some books had been rearranged, making the shelves look fuller. His desk had been moved toward the wall, creating more open space.
I was too drained to question it. The weight of everything—Prince Muriel, Loki’s unspoken emotions—settled heavily on me. Without a word, I sank onto the sofa against the wall.
Loki paced a few times, his steps measured, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sat beside me.
His voice was softer when he asked, “What happened?”
I exhaled. “I really don’t know,” I admitted. “He sat next to me and gave some insight into your fighting style. But when you finished, he took my hand and held it in a vice-like grip. I tried to pull away, but it was no use. The bruises came more from me struggling, than from him actively trying to hurt me.”
Loki remained silent, so I continued.
“I got mad because he had the audacity to tell me you’re a bad friend. That you’d only end up hurting me. That I should break off our friendship.” My jaw tightened. “Like he had any right to say that.”
Loki’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes sharpened.
“What did he say exactly?”
I hesitated, then sighed, knowing there was no point in softening the truth.
“He said you’re incapable of having friends. That the only friends you have are your brother’s. That the only reason Thor even tolerates you is because he’s too blind to see the danger in you.”
Loki exhaled slowly, his posture sinking into the back of the sofa. His eyes slid shut, and the sadness radiating from him was impossible to ignore.
I shifted closer, until our shoulders touched, and took his hand in mine. A gentle squeeze. A silent reassurance.
I wanted to tell him Muriel was wrong, but something told me to wait. So, I did.
Minutes stretched in silence. When it lasted longer than expected, I let my head rest against his shoulder, letting him feel I was still there.
His emotions shifted—sadness battling anger, then settling into something quieter. Eventually, as he regained control, only loneliness remained.
When I finally glanced up, I found him already watching me.
He turned slightly, angling himself so we faced each other more easily.
“Aurora,” he murmured. “You’ve probably noticed—I’m a private person. I don’t show my feelings. I prefer people to think their words don’t affect me, that I don’t care.”
His fingers curled slightly, his grip on my hand tightening just a fraction.
“But with you… it’s different. I know there’s no point in pretending. Even if I don’t show my emotions, you can still feel them.” He let out a slow breath. “That’s unsettling. I don’t know what to do or say in moments like this. Because I cannot pretend with you. So, thank you for giving me time to collect my thoughts.”
I nodded, letting him know I understood.
“I know Muriel is still angry about the past,” Loki admitted. “And while I will not share you what happened between us, I understand why he would say those things.
“He is right about one thing—Sif and the Warriors Three are mostly Thor’s friends. They tolerate me because of him.” His voice lowered. “I do not make friends easily. I can always tell when people lie, when they’re insincere. In a friendship, that makes things… difficult. It tends to ruin them before they even begin.
“My brother is the only exception. Thor almost never lies to me.”
His voice grew even quieter. “I confided in Muriel when we were friends. Told him things I do not tell most people.” He exhaled sharply. “And now, he is using my own words against me.”
His emotions spiked again, crashing into me like a wave. I loosened my hold on his hand, allowing the connection to ease just slightly.
“I’m sorry for all of this, Loki,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring it back up. But I knew lying to you about what he said wouldn’t help. But please believe this—I won’t let go of our friendship because of something in your past. Or because of what anyone else says. I need this friendship just as much as I feel you do.”
Loki looked at me for a long moment before offering a small, genuine smile. “I’m very glad to hear you say that, Aurora.”
I hesitated. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded.
“You said you find it hard to make friends.” I bit my lip. “So why is it different with us? I’ve only known you for a few days, but… you feel like the best friend I’ve ever had.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, my face heated. I glanced away, embarrassed by how easily I’d admitted it.
Loki’s fingers brushed my chin, gently tilting my face back toward him. His eyes softened.
“You have only known me for a few days,” he said quietly. “But I have worried about you, looked over you and cared for you, for years. Since you woke up, you have done nothing but show me kindness. You trusted me enough to let me see your memories. You never once lied to me, even when the truth was difficult. You defended me when you thought I needed it. And when I scared you—like in the clearing with Fenrir—you still gave me a chance to explain. You even forgave me.”
His voice caught slightly. He shook his head, his gaze dropping. “To be honest, in the short time you have been awake, you have been more of a friend to me than anyone ever has.”
I studied the man beside me—the loneliness in him, the quiet longing for connection.
Without thinking, I stood and took his hands, pulling him to his feet. His expression flickered with confusion, but he followed my lead.
Then, I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly.
He was taller, so my head rested against his chest, just beneath his chin. For a moment, he hesitated. Then his arms closed around me, pulling me closer. His chin rested on top of my head, and we simply stood there, existing in the silence.
After a while, he pulled back slightly. But instead of letting go, he sat back down on the sofa—bringing me with him.
I shifted, adjusting slightly to sit beside him, but he did not let go. Instead, he simply pulled me into his lap, my side pressing against his chest. His arms wrapped around me.
I should have felt nervous. Shy. But I didn’t.
Instead, I felt calm.
Loki’s emotions steadied, the storm within him settling. I let my head rest against his chest, my arms folded in my lap.
And for a long while, neither of us spoke.
We just sat there, sorting through the emotions neither of us knew how to put into words.
Loki’s breath was warm against the top of my head as he spoke again.
“What did you say to Muriel after he said those things about me?”
I smirked. “Oh, I might’ve told him I don’t tolerate anyone speaking ill of my friends. That I’m the only one who decides who I keep close. And that I don’t take advice from people I don’t even consider friends.”
Loki hummed in interest, and I continued, my grin widening.
“I also made it clear that if I had to choose between a friend and some high-ranking stranger, I’d always choose my friend. And then…” I let the words hang for a moment before adding, “I may have threatened to use magic to remove his hand if he didn’t let go himself.”
His laughter rumbled through his chest, shaking us both. I had to lift my head before I got dizzy from the vibrations.
“I am amazed he still kissed your hand after that,” Loki chuckled. “I would have been terrified you would fry my head off.”
I laughed with him. “Please, you would’ve known I was bluffing. I don’t even know any spells.”
His amusement lingered, but his eyes gleamed with something else—something thoughtful.
“Well,” he said, “that is something I can fix.”
Gently, he shifted me off his lap and onto the sofa before standing. He crossed the room to his desk, retrieved a book, then returned to sit beside me. For a moment, he hesitated, his expression unreadable.
“I need your permission to use a spell on you,” he finally said. “It will grant you the ability to understand and speak Allspeak. That way, you will be able to read most of the books in my library.”
I straightened at that. “Really?”
He nodded. “Normally, every Asgardian receives this spell growing up. It allows different races to communicate without language barriers. However, it does have its limits—some languages will not translate.”
His fingers tapped against the book in his hands.
“For instance, Old Norse—the runic language. That, you will have to study. The more complex and dangerous spells are still written in it.”
Excitement surged through me, and I nodded eagerly. “Yes! I’d love to be able to read these books.”
Loki still looked hesitant, as if waiting for any sign of regret. When I remained firm, he finally exhaled, then placed his hands gently on either side of my head.
He whispered words I didn’t recognize. A tingling sensation spread through me, buzzing like static along my skin before fading into warmth.
As he pulled away, he picked up the book and placed it in my lap.
I glanced down—and my breath caught.
I could read the title.
Basic Spells for Beginners was written in elegant, golden script across the cover.
A slow smile spread across my face as realization hit.
This was it.
My first magic lesson.