Though he was young yet, his steps were light and nearly silent as he trailed after the woman in his mother's famed gardens. Keen eyes, already so discerning for one so young, tracked her every movement, scrutinizing her to find out what was so intriguing about her.

He had been following her for the past half hour, ever since he had seen her talking with his father in a hallway; she had left with an enchanting smile on her face, while his father had been unable to mask the flash of frustration in his eyes. Never before had he seen anyone, other than his mother, get the best of his father. It bore investigating and maybe, if he was clever enough, he might learn a thing or two from her.

They had arrived at the heart of the gardens, where a stone bench, artfully placed and integrated into the beauty of the area, awaited any visitors. She sat there, always maintaining her regal pose, making the bench seem as a throne, fit for the queen of all the realms.

He was about to crouch behind a conveniently placed bush, when he spun around, startled at the bellow behind him.

A quick look was all it took to confirm his suspicions, and his smile, when it came, was a quicksilver slash of mischief and slightly vengeful humour.

Smoothing out his features, he waited patiently for the person seeking him to arrive, all intentions of observing his prey forgotten in the face of the culmination of his plans.

"Brother, there you are! I have searched for you everywhere!"

He allowed a look of bemusement to rest on his face – hours spent practicing in front of the mirror ensured that it was painfully genuine – as he responded,

"Well, here I am. What is it that you sought me for?"

With a huff of frustration, his older brother answered his query, voice loud and boisterous as ever,

"Come now brother, I know that you know why I am here. Someone saw it fit to dye my hair a most unmanly colour while I slumbered."

It was then that he finally allowed his eyes to trail up to the headgear on his brother's head, his furrowed brows a silent question for elaboration or proof.

His brother, ever the one to choose action over speech, reached up and ripped the headgear off his head.

He was sure that the very air stilled as his brother's pink-striped and braided hair was revealed.

He fought it, by the Norns how he fought it, but it was no use.

All too soon, his delighted laughter was ringing clear through the air, startling the birds and little creatures in the gardens around him. Through it all, his brother's face darkened with an embarrassed and angered flush as peals of laughter emerged from his mouth.

Finally regaining control of himself – and not a moment too soon if his brother's shaking was any indication, he turned his attention back to his brother and said,

"I can see why you might think I had something to do with this…work of art brother dear, given my penchant for similar acts. However, need I remind you that I am not the only one with the incentive nor means to accomplish such things? After all, it was not me whom you told 'fought like a woman in need of a man to protect her'."

As he watched the colour drain out of his brother's face, he mentally patted himself on the back for setting things up as seamlessly as he had. One might say that his efforts were a little too elaborate for petty revenge, but he was of the opinion that if one went out of their way to pay another back for some slight, then one had best do it spectacularly.

For his part, his brother, now pale with horrified realization turned a lost and pleading look upon him, no doubt expecting him to provide him with an out.

It was a struggle to keep his triumphant smile off his face, but he managed.

From her place seated on the stone bench, the lady known as Vana smiled to herself as she discreetly observed the little mischief maker.

She bit back the amused giggle that wanted to escape her beautiful lips.

Watching carefully as the dark haired child spun a web of truths that misled his fairer haired brother, she gained a contemplating gleam in her enchanting eyes.

Once she noticed that the golden haired child had departed, she spoke softly, her voice ringing in the silent gardens and startling the child crouching a ways away,

"Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we practise to deceive."

At the last word, her eyes came to rest on the exact spot where the boy was hidden, and she merely raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow as he rose up from his hiding place, dusting off invisible dirt from his clothes with the air of one who was unbothered by the events unfolding around him.

Gracefully gliding towards her position, the green eyed child paused before her and sketched an elegant bow, bringing a delightful laugh to her lips as he said,

"My fairest lady, I know not what you mean."

Casting a thoughtful look at him, she tilted her head to the side as the threads of fate sang to her, offering her glimpses of things to be, things that were, things that are, and things that would have been.

Making her decision, she patted the space beside her, inviting the boy to sit as she spoke,

"Come, my little spider, let me speak to you of tangled webs and how to avoid getting caught in them."

Here he stood once again, before his father, mother, and the advisors of the court, awaiting judgement for some deed he was supposed to have done.

His gaze drifted to the only other person close to his age who sat beside his mother.

His brother could not meet his eyes.

Swallowing down a snort of anger, he turned his gaze back to his impassive father, all the time eloquent words protesting his innocence falling from his lips, even as his attention wandered.

Here he stood again.

It seemed like only yesterday he had stood in the same spot, denying his involvement in whatever scheme had been carried out to disturb the cooks in the royal kitchens.

At the time, as was often the case, he truly had been innocent of the act itself…yet he had still gotten punished.

It is becoming a troubling routine, he mused to himself.

More often than not, his brother, and his band of four annoyances, would carry out some prank on some unsuspecting member of the court, often roping him into planning said endeavours since none of the others had his brilliance and cunning.

Yet, at the end of the day, when their deeds were unfailingly discovered, he usually found himself standing before his parents, waiting to be punished while his brother and his tagalongs averted their eyes from his.

Even as he swore to himself that this was the last time he would allow such a thing to happen, he knew that he was lying to himself; his youthful need to feel included by his brother would have him acquiescing to yet another hare brained scheme mere moments after dispensing with a few of his usual cutting words.

As his eyes drifted over the faces of those present, he took in their slight contempt as his words continued to fall into the open air; to them, there was no question of guilt.

Wrenching his gaze away from them, he focused once more on his father…and his heart skipped a beat.

Impossible, his mind cried out in denial.

Muttered words rose in the sudden silence as their owners shifted in surprise at the abrupt halt to his words.

He stood frozen in place with his face pale and his lungs still as his world was shattered and pieced back together again to form a wholly new image.

Only this time, the pieces fit as they never had before.

He was not stupid, quite the contrary actually, as he possessed an intellect that had baffled his tutors even as a child.

His intuition and perceptiveness had just revealed to him, clear as day, the truth of his existence.

He would always be second-best.

None was yet so brazen as to say it to his face, but he had always read in their closed off faces, in their distant manner, and in their fleeting glances, their judgement of him…their belief that he was lacking in some way.

He had not wanted to, but he had also seen in it in his own father.

When compared to his older brother, he always seemed to fall short.

Now, as lessons imparted to him by a visiting noble in a quiet part of his mother's garden years ago came to the fore, he analysed the fleeting look that had passed through his father's eye in the instant that he had glanced at him.

He must know the truth

It was a chilling thought and one that his brain shied away from, but for all that he deceived others, he had never lied, least of all to himself.

His father knew that he was innocent, and yet, he intended to punish him.

And as he gazed at the brother who would not look at him, and the father who would not see, he felt his heart freezing in his chest as years of efforts to gain the approval of his father – and in some way, of his brother – went up in flames.

Why…why…WHY, his heart cried, until from the depths of his mind, a memory came forth.

A garden, unrivalled in beauty, and seated in its center, a maiden so fair her beauty seemed to revitalize the very plants around her.

As he had sat listening to her words of wisdom, she had asked him,

"Tell me, my little spider, what would you do if one had performed a wondrous deed in your name…for your…approval?"

Gazing into her eyes had felt like gazing upon the heart of star. More hesitant than he had been before, he had replied,

"I would give him the praise he desires, that he may be moved to do the same deeds over and over again for my approval."

For a moment, she had merely looked at him, before a smile had spread across her face; one that had threatened to bring tears to his own eyes on account of the sorrow contained in it.

She had eventually turned her gaze onto a bird singing nearby before she had said,

"Perhaps you are right. Yet, why not withhold that praise, so that he might strive to do even better and better, hoping that then, he would get your praise?"

As she had looked at him with such sad eyes, he had felt something…a powerful life changing realization…lingering on the edge of his perception, just out of reach.

Now, that realization that had eluded him had just slammed home with the force of a dying star.

In his heart, black despair exploded into blinding fury as years of silent disapproval and hurt crystalized into anger.

He would show them, they who believed that he was naught but a trickster and mischief maker. He would become as they perceived him to be, so much so that they would wish for him to return to the way he had been.

Yet, just as he was about to completely succumb to the feelings of hatred and envy welling up in him, he glimpsed a pair of loving eyes – always so loving – looking back at him, and his rage abruptly cooled.

He realized another truth that he had previously failed to appreciate...his mother had always loved him, of that there had never been any doubt.

While his father had doted on his first son, regaling him with tales of glorious battles, his mother had sat with him, speaking to him of less violent wonders of the universe, sometimes singing to him, other times reading with him and teaching him of the numerous lands outside their realm.

She had always loved him, and for years, he had taken it for granted, constantly seeking the approval of his father.

No more

Focusing on his father, who now had an unreadable look on his face, he straightened his back and held his head high, sturdy defiance in every line of his adolescent body.

His father's powerful voice echoed in the hall,

"You have fallen silent all of a sudden. Tell me, does this mean that you have accepted your guilt in this matter?"

Steadily looking back at his father while those gathered watched on in interest at the break from the norm, his green eyes blazed with the new realizations currently redefining his world.

When he spoke, the people present shifted in confusion and slight discomfort at his words,

"As you say so, Allfather, so must it be true."

As the murmurs of the spectators washed over him, he allowed a small smile to cross his face.

She fought the urge to purr as she felt the fearful eyes of many of those present following her graceful stride.

Her slightly insane gaze surveyed those lying defeated before her and when it landed on the bleeding one-eyed king, she could no longer hold it in.

Many flinched as she laughed in maddened glee at their subjugation.

She had done it, finally, vengeance was within reach.

Turning her gaze from Odin, to his son, she merely raised an eyebrow at the defiance burning in his gaze.

Making sure that he was paying full attention, she slowly stretched her hand outwards and called with her stolen powers, relishing the defeat that bowed the golden prince's shoulders as Mjölnir came soaring into her hand.

Once more cackling in delight, she finally moved on, coming to a stop before the Queen of the Golden Realm, taking in her regal figure – beautiful even in defeat.

Speaking in a soft voice that belied her hostile intentions, she said,

"All the maidens of the Nine Realms envy you, dear Frigga, for having the unending devotion of he who is called Silvertongue."

At one of the monikers of the long absent second prince, many who had heard her shifted, though Frigga's expression did not change.

Knowing that she had already won, she felt no hesitation in twisting the knife currently embedded in the hearts of the people present.

Throwing her arms wide, she spun slowly, while speaking words that caused the faint feelings of discomfort to grow into suffocating guilt in the hearts of all but one,

"Weep, children of Asgard, for you have brought this reckoning upon yourselves. For eons, while you have delighted in your superiority over the other Realms you have left naught in your wake but bitter enemies at worst, fair weather friends at best. Yet, none had dared assail Asgard with might of arms for all knew of the physical prowess of her children. Neither had any dared attack with seidr, even as we saw that your reliance on might made you weak to its effects, for all who wield it know that Asgard is under the protection of the most powerful sorcerer in all the Nine Realms, Loki, the Dark Prince of Asgard."

The smile on her face only widened when people began to mutter in denial, refusing to believe that the person they had so ridiculed could have been protecting them for so long.

Speaking up, and cutting all voices short, she continued,

"While he dwelled here, no practitioner dared to so much as spit in the direction of Asgard. So, imagine our delight, when we had heard that Asgard had finally managed to drive him off – not for a short period of time as it had been in the past, but for decades. For the first time since his rise to fame among us, Asgard was without his protection."

She allowed her statement to sink in, delighting in the slowly dawning looks of horror, remorse, and sorrow on the faces of those present.

Now, slowly stalking towards the Lady Frigga, she drew her narration to a close,

"As soon as word reached us, my sisters and I conspired with all the practitioners who had a grudge against you…an endeavour that took us numerous weeks on account of the number involved. Finally, it was decided that I would be the one carrying out the assault, with the magical backing of all my fellow practitioners. And now, Asgard has fallen to me, and finally, we can have our vengeance."

Standing before Frigga, she slowly reached out to caress her head, speaking in a voice that all could hear,

"Know that I do not hate you, Lady Frigga, if anything I envy you for being the most important thing to him. For that reason, I will grant you the only quick and dignified death here, on account of my respect for the Dark Prince."

As her free hand came up, Thor struggled futilely against the magical bonds pinning him in place, while Odin slumped in defeat as another attempt to brute force his way through the magic failed.

Frigga's eyes showed no fear as magic gathered in the invader's hand.

Just as the blow was about to be struck, a cool voice interrupted her, causing her face to pale in fear and tension to seep out of Frigga's form,

"What do you think you are doing, Amora?"

Abandoning her hold on the Queen, Amora slowly turned to look at the person now standing before her.

From his hair, which was the blackness of the space in between worlds, past his face, which was as pale as moonlight, to his eyes, blazing emeralds like the stars in the heavens, to the soles of his black clad feet, he was the embodiment of power and magic; possessing a presence that caused the very fabric of reality to sing in rapture around him.

Swallowing in fear, she tilted her head up, marshalling her suddenly tattered courage to face down the man before her.

Even though she wielded the magical might of over fifty powerful practitioners, she knew not to take her new opponent lightly.

Giving no forewarning, she flung her hand outwards and loosed a magical discharge that howled through the air, leaving the scent of ozone in its wake.

Loki, for his part, merely sidestepped the assault as he began a slow and measured walk towards Amora, who continued to hurl attacks at him that he either evaded with enviable grace, or deflected with powerful magic.

No matter what she hurled at him, he kept on getting closer, relentless in his approach.

Suddenly, Amora threw her hand forward with a triumphant gleam in her eye, and though no magic leapt forth, she still looked victorious.

Frigga let loose a warning cry as she spied Mjölnir hurtling towards Loki's back.

Without even a hitch in his stride, Loki's right hand snapped back and grasped the mighty hammer, stunning all present as he effortlessly wielded it with an elegance that the more brutish Thor never had.

Pointing the hammer at Amora, he only gave her time to understand what was about to happen, before he called upon the power of the weapon.

Blinding white lightning roared from the hammer, striking Amora and tearing her body apart.

Deathly silent black lightning erupted from the hammer, striking Amora and tearing her soul apart.

Once the light show ended, and the thunder stopped rumbling across the room, ashes drifted down from where Amora had once stood, the only remnants of Loki's fury.

In the silence that descended after Amora's defeat, Loki's footfalls were still not heard as he glided across the floor towards his mother, ignoring the still bound forms around him.

Lifting her to her feet with gentle hands, he smiled down at her and said,

"I have returned, Mother."

And with a loving smile that seemed to light up the entire room, she replied,

"Welcome home, My Son."

A little background here. Fans of this fandom have differing views on Odin's parenting. I think he failed...woefully. So, here is my AU where Loki realized early on that Odin would never give him what he desired most, and so switched his loyalty to his mother, who loved him as his father never could. Under Frigga, Loki would be the model "Mama's Boy" including being the best at whatever he does to make her proud...namely, sorcery. So, in place of Odin's silent disapproval of his pursuit of the magical arts, Frigga's unfailing support will cause him to be even better than canon Loki might have been...to become a true god of Chaos.