Starchild

Interlude 8

There is no bigger tragedy than the one surrounding Asgard's library. It is the biggest collection of books I have ever seen, held in a beautifully carved room that should have been accessible to everyone - however, only royalty and intellectuals had permission. Most of the time, Father and I were the only ones there.

—What's the conflict in that one? —

The biggest table was always filled with books and papers as we worked on our own things; Father would write anything, from plays to decrees, and I would read any books she gave me, or simply, draw her concentrated face.

—A bastard son. —she smiled, —He grows up normally within royalty, but when the folk find out they start questioning whether he should receive the throne or not. —

Of course. I chuckled. —You are projecting. Let me guess, the answer is yes, he should get the throne? —I grabbed a paper filled with mistakes and crumpled it, throwing it at her,

—Obviously. —she easily caught it. —I know peasants will agree. I mean, many of them already know I'm not Odin, and they don't mind. They understand my focus on culture, and if they like it, I will keep working on it. —she shrugged, —I rule for the people, not against. Doesn't matter if I'm illegitimate. That's what Mother told me to do. —

Frigga. She was a good queen, and fortunately, Father was following her path.

—Mothers know best, but fathers do too, and as your father, Starchild, —she pointed at me with her quill, —I must ask you to rule for the people, whenever you become queen. Will you? —

But, for some reason, I didn't focus on the last part. Sure, I would rule for the people, but it didn't seem that important to me at the moment.

—Does that mean She is my mother? —

Her eyebrows rose, in confusion and surprise, but then, she smiled softly. —She's not your mother, Star. She only created you. —she said, —You don't need a mother. You have me, your father. —