The Immortal Gazette: The Tale of Odin & A Most Suspicious Mood
The fire in the grand hall of The Immortal Gazette crackled softly, casting flickering shadows against the gemstone walls. Alice lounged comfortably on a velvet settee, a glass of something dangerously intoxicating twirling between her fingers. Beside her, Loki sat far too close, an arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his fingers barely brushing her shoulder.
And he was humming.
Loki—God of Mischief, King of Chaos, Prince of Trickery—was humming.
Alice smirked at something he whispered in her ear, leaning in just a bit closer. She giggled, looking far too pleased with herself.
And then came the creak of the door.
Rumplestiltskin strode in, immediately halting mid-step. His golden eyes narrowed as he took in the sight before him. His fingers twitched slightly, his grip tightening around the goblet in his hand.
Alice.
Loki.
Sitting together.
Too closely.
Too comfortably.
And Loki was happy. Worse—oddly happy.
Rumplestiltskin’s gaze flickered between them, and a sense of deep, profound suspicion settled in his chest.
“What,” he drawled slowly, tilting his head, “is this?”
Alice turned her attention to him with an expression of utter amusement. “Oh, Rumpel, darling, must you always be so suspicious?”
Loki—who was still humming—grinned, his emerald eyes gleaming with something unnervingly smug. “Relax, imp, we’re just… enjoying each other’s company.”
Rumplestiltskin’s jaw twitched. He knew Loki. He knew Alice. And whatever this was? He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Alice stretched like a cat, looking far too pleased. “But if you must pry, we were just about to discuss tonight’s lesson.”
Loki grinned, resting his chin on his hand. “Odin.”
Rumplestiltskin’s eyes flickered with intrigue, but his suspicion remained. He walked over, slowly lowering himself into a chair opposite them, watching.
Alice ignored his scrutiny, crossing one leg over the other. “Odin—King of the Norse Gods, Ruler of Asgard, the Wise One, the One-Eyed Wanderer, the god of war, wisdom, and poetry.”
Loki lifted his goblet. “And my dear, dear father.”
Rumplestiltskin sneered. “Oh yes, I’m sure you had a lovely father-son relationship.”
Loki smirked. “Oh, absolutely. *If you consider betrayal, banishment, and an endless cycle of ‘Why can’t you just be like Thor?’ a lovely relationship, then yes.”
Alice chuckled and leaned forward. “But Odin wasn’t just a king sitting on a throne—oh no. He earned his wisdom the hard way. He was a seeker. A man who sacrificed for knowledge.”
Rumplestiltskin—still eyeing them both—sighed. “Fine. Enlighten me.”
Odin: The God Who Paid for His Wisdom in Blood
Alice smirked, swirling her drink. “Odin wanted knowledge more than anything—but wisdom has a price. The first sacrifice? His own eye.”
Rumplestiltskin leaned forward slightly despite himself. “Explain.”
Loki smirked. “He sought the Well of Mimir—the source of infinite wisdom. But Mimir didn’t just give knowledge away. No, no. Odin had to prove how badly he wanted it. So he plucked out his own eye and tossed it into the well.”
Alice shivered dramatically. “Imagine that. Ripping out your own eyeball just to see the world more clearly.”
Rumplestiltskin snorted. “I would’ve just stolen the damn water.”
Loki chuckled. “Ah, but Odin was playing the long game. That wisdom allowed him to rule the gods and prepare for Ragnarok.”
Alice leaned in, her voice lowering. “But that wasn’t his only sacrifice.”
Rumplestiltskin arched an eyebrow.
“Odin hanged himself.”
Loki’s smirk widened. “On the great World Tree—Yggdrasil. He hung there for nine days and nine nights, wounded by his own spear, without food or water. And what did he gain?”
Alice grinned. “The runes. The very source of magic, of knowledge, of power.”
Rumplestiltskin exhaled. “So he sacrificed himself… to himself?”
Alice’s eyes sparkled. “Exactly. He was both the offering and the receiver. A god seeking more than godhood.”
Rumplestiltskin drummed his fingers against the table. “Hmph. Drastic.”
Loki chuckled. “Oh, but Odin wasn’t just some wise old man sitting around dispensing riddles. He was a war god, too. And he didn’t just send anyone into battle.”
Alice tilted her head. “Oh, Rumpel, do you know of the Valkyries?”
Rumplestiltskin’s smirk returned. “Ah. The warrior maidens of Valhalla.”
Loki nodded. “Odin’s personal army. The ones who chose who lived and died in battle. They gathered the greatest warriors—the Einherjar—to prepare for the final war.”
Alice lifted her goblet. “Ragnarok—the end of the gods. Odin knew it was coming. He knew he would die. And yet? He still built an army, still sought knowledge, still prepared.”
Loki sighed dramatically. “A tragic figure, really. All that wisdom, all that power, and in the end? Eaten by Fenrir—the giant wolf destined to consume him.”
Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Eaten?”
Alice grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. His sons avenged him. But Odin? His fate was sealed from the start.”
The fire crackled in the silence that followed.
Rumplestiltskin studied Alice and Loki again. They still seemed… off. And he still didn’t like it.
Finally, he leaned back, crossing his arms. “Fine. That was decent. But I’m watching you both.”
Alice’s smirk widened. “Oh, darling, I’d be offended if you weren’t.”
Loki simply kept humming.
Rumplestiltskin’s fingers twitched. Something was definitely wrong.
And he was going to find out what it was.
🖋️✨📜🖤
