Chapter 43
The next morning, I woke beside Loki in his bedroom. I lay there quietly in his arms, taking in my surroundings. The thought of us living together filled me with a deep, steady warmth. I snuggled closer to him, feeling blissfully content.
A small smile tugged at his lips, and I knew he was waking—already tuned into my emotions through our bond. We stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s presence.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
"Come in, Mother," Loki called, his voice still heavy with sleep.
Sure enough, the door opened, and Frigga stepped in with a knowing grin.
"Good morning, my dears," she said brightly. "I thought I might find you both here when Yara informed me Aurora had not used her room last night."
That familiar spark of mischief danced in her eyes—one I recognized all too well.
I tried to sit up, but Loki’s arm around me tightened, holding me firmly against his side.
"The reason for that, Mother," he said in an overly polite tone, "is that I asked Aurora to share my rooms with me. It seemed senseless to stay apart when we would simply seek out one another anyway."
I could feel his apprehension under the calm delivery, but Frigga’s expression softened into genuine approval.
"I understand, my son. You are bound to one another, so I see no reason to keep you separated. There will be gossip, of course—but with your courtship public, people could hardly expect you not to enjoy each other’s company."
Relief rippled through Loki, and his hold around me relaxed. I smiled. As always, Frigga was on our side.
And as for the nobles? They could gossip all they wanted. He was mine now.
I slipped from the bed, grateful I’d worn a nightgown. Grabbing my overcoat, I slipped it on just as Frigga came over and looped her arm through mine.
"It seems my son did not waste any time moving your things," she teased as we walked to the sitting area.
I grinned. "It seems so. I don’t know if he waited until after he asked or if he had the servants move my things the moment I left my room."
"My love," Loki said, following us into the room and taking a seat, "there was never any doubt about your answer. I had your things moved immediately."
I laughed at his self-assurance. He might act cool and collected now, but I remembered how nervous he’d been. Classic Loki—calm mask outside, soft and gooey inside. Not that I’d ever tell.
"So you see," I told Frigga, ignoring him, "I’ve been kidnapped. But as long as my kidnapper pampers me, I’m not complaining. Honestly, I’m just here for the bathroom. His is much nicer than mine."
Frigga burst into laughter. "My son, you have met your match. I fear for the palace when the two of you begin causing mischief together."
Still chuckling, she straightened. "Now then, I came for Aurora’s dress fitting. Will you stay, Loki, or do you have other matters to attend to?"
"I have no other obligations this morning. I would like to stay and see what you have created. I know time was limited, and you have likely focused on her gown. May I use my Seiðr to create any necessary jewelry or accessories?"
Frigga nodded, amused. "You may. Just do not drain the royal coffers."
I was about to ask what she meant when I remembered how Loki had made me jewelry once before. I’d assumed it appeared from thin air, but now I realized he must have drawn materials from the treasury.
Frigga summoned a servant, and Yara entered moments later. Her eyes sparkled when she saw me in my nightgown beside Loki.
"Could you bring the dress the seamstresses delivered this morning?" Frigga asked.
Yara bowed and returned shortly with a stunning deep green gown. I recognized the shade immediately—it was Loki’s signature green. Frigga took the dress and motioned for me to follow her to the bedroom.
Loki excused himself for a moment, speaking quietly with Yara—likely explaining the new living arrangements as promised.
Inside the bedroom, Frigga helped me into the gown. Halfway through dressing, Loki reappeared, taking a seat on the bed. His eyes already said everything.
Once the last layer was in place, I turned to the mirror. The dress was glorious. The rich green made my pale skin glow and brought out the fire in my hair. My eyes looked enormous, the color enhanced by the dress.
Frigga and Loki were both smiling. I couldn’t help but smile back as I spun slowly.
The dress fit like it was made for me. The bodice hugged my curves, and the layered skirt flowed with elegant movement. My cleavage was tastefully accentuated, and the gold trim shimmered with every step.
"You look beautiful, Aurora," Frigga said warmly. "Shall I call Yara to do your hair?"
Before I could respond, Loki stood. "That will not be necessary. I quite enjoy doing Aurora’s hair."
Frigga’s smile widened. "I love seeing this side of you. It seems all those years of watching me prepare for events were not wasted. I shall leave you two to it—there are still a few details I must see to."
She turned to Loki, mock stern. "Do not ruin her dress."
I laughed. She knew her son well.
Loki gave a polite bow. "Mother, I would never ruin her dress. I am not a beast like Thor. I would simply use magic to remove it and return it once I was done."
My eyes widened, and Frigga left the room laughing.
Loki turned to me and shrugged. "As long as she keeps insinuating I cannot control myself around you... I shall keep proving her right."
He grinned, all mischief and affection.
And gods help me—I loved him for it.
Now with the fitting done, I carefully took off the dress and hung it on the wardrobe door. Loki took my hand and led me to the bathroom. We took our time washing each other, making out lazily in the hot water. Afterward, we returned to the bedroom, where Loki took his time drying and curling my hair.
We decided to spend a quiet, relaxing day in his chambers until it was time for the banquet. We talked, read together, and took both breakfast and lunch in the comfort of his rooms. It was a lovely day, and before I knew it, it was time to get ready.
Loki helped me dress and took his time fixing my hair after it had gotten a bit mushed from slipping the dress on. He explained that he loved it curly and loose, so he braided a few thin strands and wove them into an intricate pattern, pinning them back while letting the rest fall freely around my shoulders. His fingers brushed along my neck, and I felt the familiar tingle of his magic. A moment later, a cool touch kissed my skin, and I looked down to see a stunning gold necklace appear—an intricately yet delicate detailed serpent with vivid green eyes.
He stepped in front of me and took my hands. Another shimmer of magic, and I found my arms adorned with matching serpent bracelets. Then came the earrings, delicate and elegant, and finally a golden tiara with green stones that glittered in the light. It all matched so perfectly with the dress that I stared at myself in the mirror, stunned.
The ensemble was perfect.
A large, beautifully crafted wooden box appeared on the vanity. It was intricate, full of little drawers. Loki opened them one by one, revealing a treasure trove of gold and white gold jewelry. Each set was more beautiful than the last. There was so much that for a moment, I feared he’d emptied the entire royal treasury for me.
I turned to him, mouth open, catching his grin.
“Loki, this is too much,” I said, standing. I felt deeply flattered, but also completely unworthy of such riches. “What will your mother say?”
Loki took my hands and gently sat me down. “Do not fret, little one. The serpents and the wooden box I created myself with magic. The rest of the jewelry already belonged to my mother. It was crafted long ago in preparation for a possible courtship. There is another similar set waiting in the treasury for Thor’s future partner. Normally, it would be presented to you as a wedding gift, but it is clear my mother wanted you to have it now. I could not have taken it otherwise.”
His words soothed me.
“I love the snakes,” I said, touching the necklace and kissing him. “The rest is amazing, of course, but these you made especially for me—and I love them.”
“I love how they look on you,” he said with a grin. “Like I told you before—the way my colors and symbols suit you, one might think the Norns crafted you for me.”
I wanted to grab him and kiss the life out of him, but he still needed to get ready. Luckily, he used magic for most of it, and ten minutes later we were on our way to the banquet hall.
The evening was perfect. From the moment we entered the hall, it felt like a bubble of warmth surrounded us. We were congratulated endlessly at first, which got a little tedious, but after that we spent the night dancing. The air was full of music, laughter, and joy.
Tonight, it wasn’t about politics or expectations. It was just us, wrapped in a halo of love, surrounded by friends.
That was when I felt it. A sharp, cold ripple of emotion spread through the air, brushing against my senses like static. I stiffened in Loki’s arms.
“What is wrong?” Loki’s voice echoed in my mind through the bond, never missing a step in our dance.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “There’s something off. I feel this strange, negative... jealous energy, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.” I focused on the sensation, allowing him to feel it too.
His eyes scanned the room with mine, but everyone looked to be enjoying themselves.
“It must be someone angry,” he said. “Perhaps some noble lady has been slighted and is plotting revenge from the shadows?”
He was trying to lighten the mood, but the unease clung to me. The feeling was deeply personal, like someone was directing it at me—or at us.
I knew Loki had admitted to sleeping with a few noble daughters in his youth. Maybe that explained it. Maybe someone in the crowd had once wanted him for herself and now resented me. Whatever it was, the sensation eventually dulled, and I forced myself to let it go.
We danced and danced, and for a while, I was in heaven again.
Then, from the corner of my eye, I saw a group of guards enter the ballroom. One walked directly to the royal table and leaned down to whisper something to Odin. It struck me as odd.
Loki must have noticed it too, because he smoothly guided us to the side of the room, slipping us away from the dance floor. Odin looked troubled. His gaze swept the room, first landing on Thor. He gave him a sharp nod, then turned to find Loki and did the same.
Loki squeezed my hand and led me toward the royal table.
“My sons,” Odin said as we approached, “please follow me.”
Thor and Loki both nodded and followed him toward a private reception room to the side of the hall. Loki released my hand, and I knew immediately—I wasn’t invited.
I stood frozen for a moment, uncertain what to do, anxiety creeping up my spine.
A gentle hand touched my shoulder.
“My dear,” Frigga said warmly. I turned to her as she stepped closer. “I saw Odin leave from the far side of the room. Do you know what is going on?”
“No,” I said honestly. “A guard approached him. He summoned Thor and Loki and asked to speak with them privately.”
Frigga’s hand found mine, and she gently pulled me along. “Come. You are part of the family, too.”
We reached the door and entered together. Odin was seated at the head of a small table, Loki and Thor on either side. He raised a brow when Frigga entered with me in tow but said nothing.
I took the seat beside Loki, and Frigga sat beside me.
“I was just informed by the guards,” Odin began, “that there has been an intrusion in the vault. It appears nothing was taken, but there are clear signs of magical tampering with the wards.”
Loki was the first to respond. “Father, do you know which item they were after?”
Odin shook his head. “I do not know which item specifically—or if they even sought something at all. What I do know is that the breach occurred in the elemental vault.”
That got everyone’s attention.
Loki and Thor launched into a rapid stream of questions, but I turned to Frigga quietly.
“What are elemental items?” I asked her softly.
Frigga smiled as she answered softly not to disturb Odin. “There are many magical items, but elemental artifacts grant the wielder control and power over a specific element—allowing them to channel and command its force.”
I looked at her for a moment, then motioned to Thor. “So, like Mjolnir? It gives Thor control over lightning?”
She shook her head gently. “Not quite. Thor has always possessed an inherent affinity for lightning, even as a child. Mjolnir does not give him that power—it allows him to focus and refine it. The hammer itself is a powerful lightning artifact, forged with ancient enchantments that perfectly complement his natural abilities. With it, he gains greater control and amplified power, making his elemental strength far more precise and devastating.”
She paused, then added, “That said, if someone else were deemed worthy enough to wield Mjolnir, they would gain control over lightning as well—but without Thor’s innate connection, they would not wield its power with the same mastery or depth.”
The vault contains items like Mjolnir—dangerous and powerful in the wrong hands. Fortunately, not all artifacts can be used by just anyone. Some extract a great cost from their wielder, while others are sentient and will only respond to the right bearer. Mjolnir, for instance, may only be wielded by one who is worthy. Thor is the only person in Asgard capable of lifting it. He has trained for years to become worthy and understands its power intimately.”
I nodded slowly and turned my attention back to Odin as he spoke.
“Loki, I would like you and Frigga to go down to the vault and determine whether you recognize the magical residue left behind.” Odin’s tone was calm, but I could feel the tension beneath it. “Thor, I want you to oversee the guard detail. Ensure the vault remains secured at all costs. Until we uncover the identity of this intruder, we must remain on high alert. Another breach will not be tolerated.”
Thor nodded in agreement, his posture immediately shifting into that of a general readying for battle.
Then Odin looked directly at me—and I blinked in surprise.
“I would ask you, Aurora, to assist Loki in examining the wards. I have witnessed the strength of your combined Seiðr. If there is any instability, I trust the two of you to restore it.”
I smiled and nodded. For once, I felt genuinely useful—part of something bigger than myself. Not a guest. Not a liability. I wanted to help, to be seen as someone they could count on.
“I shall summon the council and Elven investigators,” Odin continued. “If this breach is tied to Prince Muriel’s killer, it would explain why they came to Asgard. They may be searching for something among our vaults. Let me know at once if you identify the Seiðr signature.”
Frigga and Loki rose, and I followed them as we left the reception chamber and headed into the depths of the palace.
I had never been this far below the royal quarters. Loki explained that the lower levels were divided into two sectors: one housed the vault, and the other—much larger—was the dungeon. Both were heavily warded and required permission from the king or queen to access.
There was something unsettling about the atmosphere down here. The air felt dense with power, and a chill crawled up my spine. It wasn’t just the powerful wards—I could feel something else, a weight of emotion lingering in the dark. I imagined it was the proximity to the dungeon. Fear, rage, despair... it all clung to the walls like cobwebs.
As we continued down the stone corridor, we came upon a grand door—ornate and massive, inlaid with ancient runes. Loki barely touched it, and it opened silently to reveal a large central chamber from which long, alcove-lined corridors stretched out in all directions.
They moved quickly, as if they knew the path by heart. I followed close behind, glancing around in awe as we passed weapons, scrolls, stones, and strange magical relics encased in shimmering wards. The size of the vault was staggering—row upon row of alcoves stretching deep into the earth, each holding something powerful, ancient, or both.
So many things. So many artifacts buried in its halls.
Finally, they came to a stop in front of a corridor guarded by even stronger wards than the others. I could only assume this was the elemental section.
Frigga and Loki both raised their hands, and I felt a pulse of magic flow from them, awakening the spells around us.
Seconds later, Frigga nodded to Loki with a sad smile, then turned and walked away—leaving us alone.
“The magical residue here is identical to what was found in Muriel’s room,” Loki said quietly. “It is also the same trace that remained after the imposter fled the night he attacked you.”
I shivered.
“Can you show me how to detect it?” I asked, looking up at him. “It might be useful… If I ever run into him again, I’d feel safer knowing I can recognize his magic on my own.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded, pulling me gently into his arms so my back was against his chest.
“Focus on the energy of the ward,” he said. “Raise your hands—feel the power humming through it.”
I did as he asked. The magic was strong, like an electric current brushing my skin.
I felt a subtle tingle in my mind, and Loki spoke the spell through our bond. “Fyrvethra eldr sídren valkur,” he intoned—a low, ancient-sounding phrase that shimmered with meaning I couldn’t quite grasp. It felt like it belonged to the bones of the world.
“Trace the air with your fingers,” Loki instructed softly, lifting his hand to demonstrate. “Like this—two lines outward, a spiral inward, then draw down and close.” He moved his fingers with practiced elegance, forming glowing trails of light in the air. “You need not always speak the words aloud, but for now, say them in your mind as you complete the gesture.”
I followed his motion, mimicking the precise lines and spiral, as I whispered the spell in my mind.
The moment I finished, the vault came alive before me.
The ward shimmered into view like a living tapestry. Layers upon layers of magic glowed in different hues, overlapping textures dancing along the walls, floor, and ceiling. It was breathtaking. A kaleidoscope of woven light and power.
Loki’s arms tightened around me.
“As you already know,” he murmured, “every mage’s Seiðr has its own unique color. Mine is green. Yours is teal. The brightness and intensity vary by strength. The more powerful the magic, the more vivid the trace. Very few share exact matches. It is so rare, in fact, that we can dismiss it as coincidence.”
He lifted a hand and summoned a small flame.
With the spell still active, it burned a dazzling emerald green instead of normal firelight. Tiny, shimmering flecks of brighter, lighter green danced within the flame, sparkling like stardust caught in emerald fire.
Loki's brows knitted in confusion for a fleeting moment, but he quickly composed himself, returning to his lesson.
“As you can see, mine is quite bright.”
I mirrored him, summoning a flame of my own. To my surprise, my fire blazed to life—so much brighter than I expected, nearly blinding. But what struck me most was the color. It wasn’t teal anymore like I had anticipated.
It was greener than I remembered. Almost like—
“Has it always been this green?” I asked, frowning slightly as I stared into the flame.
Loki stepped closer, examining it closely. “No. It was definitely teal before. This is new.”
He studied the flame in my hand, his expression thoughtful. “Had you been born of Asgard, I suspect your Seiðr might have been blue—bright and clear, like the sky just before a storm. Most born to light carry such tones.” His voice dropped as he watched the flickering glow, no longer teal, but shimmering in soft shades of green. “But the dark magic you endured…and our connection, even in those early days—perhaps they altered it. Shifted what would have been, mingling it with my essence. That might explain how it became teal.”
He moved even closer, his hand hovering beside mine. “But this...this is no longer teal. It is green now. Not mine—not fully. Yours still, but changed.” His voice was soft, certain. “It is not the green of Asgard, nor the green of chaos.”
His gaze flicked up to meet mine, a subtle smile forming at the edge of his lips.
“It is something gentler. Like sea-glass bathed in sunlight. It carries the shape of my color, yes, but it is softened—tempered. A new hue born not from corruption, but connection.”
His fingers brushed mine gently, his smile deepening. “A green born of us.”
He waved a hand, removing the illusion over the rune on his neck. My Seiðr flared to life across his skin as it started to glow.
The color was identical.
“There,” I whispered. “It’s the same. It looks like someone added a splash of green into my magic.”
Loki let out a soft laugh, and I felt his relief ripple through the bond.
“What?” I asked, turning to face him.
“I believe you are exactly right,” he said, smiling. “It is incredibly rare for one’s Seiðr color to shift—but yours has. When our guardian bond evolved into love, our Seiðr merged. Some part of my magic is now with you, always.”
He cupped my face, kissed me deeply, then drew back with a glimmer of mischief.
“I suspect,” he said softly, “that I may be carrying a bit of your Seiðr inside me as well…”
His voice trailed off as he raised his hand again, summoning his emerald flame once more. As we both watched, those tiny flecks of brighter, shimmering green danced within the fire, sparkling gently against his own familiar shade.
His eyes widened in realization, then softened as a warm smile spread across his face.
“Well,” he murmured, clearly delighted, “this is unexpected.”
He looked at me with wonder, holding the flame closer. “These shimmering bits—I believe they are you. Your Seiðr entwined with mine. It seems our bond has altered both of us.”
He tilted his head thoughtfully, studying the flame closer. “It is not strong enough to change my magical signature completely—the wards on my chambers and here in the vault still recognize me without issue. But the shimmering flecks are distinct enough to be noticeable by someone intimately familiar with my Seiðr.”
A thrill of joy ran through me at his words, and he pulled me close once again, brushing a tender kiss against my forehead.
“It never ceases to amaze me how perfect you are,” he said as he kissed me again. “Even our Seiðr is inseparable.”
I couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered to life in my stomach. The way he said things like that—so casually, so sincerely—it set my whole body on fire.
“I can feel that,” he grinned. “Just know this vault is monitored, and anything out of the ordinary is magically recorded. While I do enjoy a certain level of voyeurism, the idea of my parents seeing us is not something I relish.”
My eyes went wide as heat surged to my face. I knew I was blushing like mad, which only made him laugh harder.
“Come here, my love. Let us continue the lesson,” he said, raising his hand again and summoning a flame.
After a few seconds, the fire flickered out, and I expected the emerald green to vanish with it. But something lingered in the air—a faint, shimmering glow. It looked like a magical echo, a soft afterimage where the flame had been.
Curious, I summoned my own flame, then doused it. The same echo appeared in its place. I waved my hand through the glow, but it passed straight through.
Loki grinned. “As you just saw, a trace of magic remains where the spell was cast. It shows you the exact location and shape of the Seiðr. The more power used, the longer it will linger.”
Sure enough, the faint glow of our magic was already starting to fade. I nodded in understanding.
I walked to the side of the door where Loki and Frigga had cast their detection spell. There, in the lower corner of the wall, was a dark, red, nearly invisible mark. So dark it almost blended into the shadows the pattern of the magic looking angry and pulsing.
“Is this it?” I asked, pointing.
He nodded. “Yes. It is the same Seiðr trace we found in Muriel’s room and after the imposter’s attack.”
The colors of the ward along the walls were beautiful—overlapping layers of shimmering colors and textures. Not one solid hue, like our own spells, but a kaleidoscope of magic woven together.
“Am I right in thinking these weren’t created by just one person?” I asked. “Because they don’t look like a single signature.”
I felt a flicker of pride from him through our bond.
“Yes, that is correct. These wards are ancient and powerful, and have been shaped by many hands over the course of thousands of years. It is the same with the Bifrost. Although you do not need magic to see its threads, the principle is similar.”
He motioned me closer.
“This next spell allows you to compare magical traces across time and space. I will show you.”
He turned toward me, then placed two fingers gently against my temple.
“Listen closely.”
Through the bond, his voice was steady and clear: “Minnask jǫfnuðr sýna.”
When you cast it, hold the memory of the trace you wish to compare against. Focus on it—let it anchor the magic.”
He gently withdrew his hand and lifted his own, showing me the gesture: a curve drawn in the air with one finger, ending in a slow spiral inward, like drawing a thread of memory back to its source.
“Now try it,” he said softly, “and I will give you the memory to compare.”
He touched my temple once more, and I felt the memory of the Seiðr trace from Muriel’s room flood my senses—sharp, dark, bitter magic. I held on to it, let it settle.
I lifted my hand and mimicked Loki’s gesture. The spell whispered through my mind like a breath of wind: “Minnask jǫfnuðr sýna.”
I focused, letting the magic settle into place. When I opened my eyes, the dark red trace on the wall was now layered with a second glow—one drawn from the memory Loki had given me.
The two colors overlapped perfectly. Same angry pattern. Same feel. A perfect match.
“I see how it works,” I said, a smile blooming across my face. “It worked on the first try.”
Loki gave a proud nod, his eyes bright. “Of course it did. You were made for this.”
“Now we need to inspect the inside of the vault,” Loki said, and with a wave of his hand, the massive door creaked open.
As we stepped inside, it became immediately clear where the damage was. Unlike the outer corridors, where the ward shimmered solid and strong, this section looked... patchy. In some areas the magic had dimmed to a pale, uneven hue. In others, the ward flickered like a failing light.
“As you can see, the ward is weakened,” Loki said, gesturing to the irregular patches. “I will try to restore these sections. With enough power, the weave should mend itself—but I will need your help.”
I nodded, and he moved to sit on the floor beside a flickering section. He patted the ground in front of him. “Come. Sit with me.”
I obeyed, settling down between his legs. As soon as I did, he pulled me back against his chest, wrapping his arms around me.
“I do not know how much energy will be needed to repair the ward,” he admitted, his chin brushing my shoulder. “It is difficult to gauge the full extent of the damage. I will not drain us completely, not while the murderer is still free in the palace. If it proves too much, we will return and finish the restoration over several days.”
I nodded again, snuggling into the warmth of him. I knew exactly what this entailed—he would do the work, and I would be his support, channeling my Seiðr into him when he needed it. My role might have been simple, but in moments like this, I never felt more connected to him. When he needed me—really needed me—it made me feel like we were two pieces of a single, seamless whole.
I watched as he raised one elegant hand toward the damaged ward. The moment his magic reached out, I felt the familiar pull and our power merging—his emerald green and my sea-glass shimmer blending together in fluid, glowing harmony.
The ward reacted instantly. Color surged through it like ink in water, rich and alive. Our combined Seiðr twisted into the fading structure, weaving itself into the broken spaces. It was beautiful—an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of color and energy.
I could feel his concentration deepen. The strain on our power was steady but not painful, like drawing water from a deep well. He was pouring it carefully, precisely. The scale of his control was mesmerizing.
A faint tingle stirred at the back of my mind.
“If I had known I could make you this proud just by performing magic near you,” his voice murmured through the bond, warm with amusement, “I would have done it far more often.”
I smiled, resting my hands lightly over his. “I’m always proud of you, Loki. But this—watching you do what you love, knowing how much work it must’ve taken to master this level of magic... it hits differently. Especially knowing you did it without praise. Knowing people looked down on you for even learning it. And you still did it anyway.”
I felt his magic stutter ever so slightly at my words. His emotions were a swirl beneath the surface—gratitude, disbelief, something deeper.
“You did not just learn it. You mastered it,” I continued softly. “Your level of skill is unparalleled. That takes strength and dedication most people can’t even imagine. And I’m so proud of you. So lucky that you’re mine.”
The bond between us pulsed. He was quiet for a long moment before he finally whispered, “I am honored by your words… and even more honored that you would claim me as yours.”
I grinned. “Yes, I claim you. You’re mine—and mine alone. Don’t you ever forget it.”
I wanted to kiss him—desperately—but I knew better than to interrupt when he was casting something this complex. So I stayed still, letting my magic flow through him. Letting him use me as a steady source, trusting him completely.
We sat like that for what felt like half an hour. Gradually, I watched the ward shift—those flickering sections grew steadier, the colors brighter, until it matched the strength of the surrounding weave.
When it was done, I felt our magic pull back, unraveling from the ward’s structure. I stood slowly, wobbling just a bit, my legs stiff from sitting. Loki stood with me, looking slightly winded himself. He didn’t look nearly as drained as he had after the Alfheim wards—but it had clearly taken effort.
“The ward is fully restored now,” he said, brushing his hair back as he caught his breath. “I do not believe we will need to return—at least, not unless another breach occurs.”
He turned toward me, concern flickering in his eyes. “Are you alright?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I feel like I just did a major workout, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“I am glad,” he said with a small smile. “I am getting the hang of controlling our Seiðr like this. It is reassuring that I can feel what you feel. Each time, it becomes easier—splitting the cost of the spell between my stamina and your considerable reserves to minimize the strain on us both.”
He was already smiling before I even said anything—I knew he could feel how proud I was of him.
“Now,” he continued, “since we are here, would you like to look around the vault?”
“Yes, please,” I said immediately. I was more than a little curious to see some of the powerful artifacts that had been hidden down here.
He took my hand, and we walked together through the long corridors of magical relics. One pedestal held the Casket of Ancient Winters, which could unleash unimaginable cold—but it would freeze the wielder as well. Loki explained it had once belonged to the Frost Giants of Jotunheim, who could withstand such temperatures.
Another display held a living flame, flickering unnaturally. “The Eternal Flame,” Loki said. “It grants full command of fire. But like the casket, it burns its wielder in return. It once belonged to the fire giants of Muspelheim.”
He showed me more, describing each item with calm precision. But my attention kept being pulled toward the back of the room. I wasn’t sure why, but something there called to me, pulling at something deep inside.
Loki felt it too. His grip on my hand tightened.
On a low pedestal rested two stunning bracelets—filigree, delicate, almost beautiful. There was no clasp, no hinge. They were solid bands, meant to be slipped over the wrist. The pull intensified the closer I got, and I shivered.
“I don’t know why,” I whispered, “but I really want to touch them.” I glanced at him nervously. “It’s scary. I know these things all hurt the person who uses them. But still, everything in me wants to put them on.”
Loki didn’t hesitate. He swept me up into his arms, carrying me bridal-style straight out of the vault. Only once we passed through the door and wards did he set me down.
“Do you still feel it?” he asked, watching me carefully.
I stood still for a second, then shook my head. “No… it’s gone.” The pull had vanished the second we’d left the vault. Loki’s shoulders relaxed as he felt the tension leave me.
“What were they?” I asked quietly as we walked back toward the main levels.
“Those are the most powerful items in the entire vault,” he said. “They are called the Elemental Bracers. Whoever wears them gains the power to control all elements. But like Mjolnir, they require worthiness. Unlike the hammer, which simply cannot be lifted if you are unworthy, the bracers must be worn. If you are not worthy… they will kill you.”
I blinked.
“They also demand a vast amount of Seiðr to wield,” he continued. “In the old days, they were seen as the ultimate challenge for any would-be master of Seiðr. Petitioners would beg the Allfather for permission to try. Many attempted it. As far as I know, none survived.”
“When my father took the throne,” he added more quietly, “he banned the practice and locked the bracers away. In truth, they are partially responsible for the dwindling number of powerful Seiðr-users in Asgard. So many of our most gifted ancestors died chasing that power before they could pass on their bloodlines.”
His voice dropped again, heavy with something I couldn’t quite place.
“Angrboda was after them too. I later learned she tried to manipulate my father—she told him she would leave me alone, if he gave them to her. She never got them, thankfully.”
I gently rubbed his arm. “I’m sorry I reminded you of her,” I said softly. “And thank you for telling me. I’ll stay far away from that part of the vault, I promise. I don’t know why I was so drawn to them, but I already have more than enough power. I’m not about to risk our future by being reckless.”
Loki slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me close as we walked. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but genuine. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
We made our way to the royal wing and found Odin and Frigga in one of the sitting rooms. Loki gave them a full report, and I could see Odin was pleased we’d managed to restore the wards in a single session.
Frigga, of course, noticed the fatigue on our faces instantly.
“My dears,” she said kindly, “thank you for putting in the effort tonight. I shall sleep better knowing the vault is once again secure. But I can see this has drained you both. I do hope you will not mind if I send you to bed early.”
Loki opened his mouth to protest, but I gave him a soft slap on the arm. “Don’t pretend you’re not tired,” I said with a grin. “She’s your mother. She knows you better than anyone.”
He sighed dramatically, then gave a theatrical bow. “Mother. Father. I bid you good night. Aurora and I shall, of course, follow your wise advice and retire.”
They both smiled and wished us a restful sleep.
We made our way back to Loki chambers, we briefly contemplated a swim, but the pull of Loki’s amazing bed was too much. We just helped each other out of our overly elaborate clothing, dropped it in a pile, and climbed straight into bed.
Wrapped in each other, warm and safe, we were asleep within moments.