O’ Deliver Me
Weeks went by on Asgard with Mobius as an official priest. He got his chambers, lavish with opulence. The wallpaper was white with shining blue curlicues, the trim on the top and bottom a gold of similar luster. The bed frame was bright mahogany with a smooth finish, and the duvet that rested below the wolf furs was a royal blue to match the goose-down pillows. It was an upgrade from his creaking nightmare of a bed back home.
He found himself making friends with the help around the palace, letting them become his comfort while adjusting to his life on Asgard. One in particular was Ingrid, Loki’s handmaiden. She was young and fair, with the smile of a thousand suns. She reminded him of his sister, so he kept her close. Ingrid Andersdottir, his close friend.
One evening, as he was brooding in the library, Ingrid found him. She leaned against a bookshelf. “Hello, stranger. Why the long face?”
Mobius glanced up at her, crossing his arms and leaning back. “No reason. Just thinking.”
“What about?” Ingrid plopped down on the sofa next to him, kicking her feet up on the coffee table.
“Get your feet off the damn table.” Mobius rolled his eyes and laughed. “Just… thinking.”
“Does it have anything to do with the bandage on your wrist?” Ingrid leaned closer, grabbing his hand. His wrist was wrapped in a bandage up to the elbow. “Shit. Yesterday the bandage was only halfway up the forearm. What happened?”
Mobius yanked his arm back. “Nothing. Just an infection. It’ll go away soon.”
Ingrid frowned. “Mobius, if you find yourself struggling, you need to know you are not alone. I am here for you if you need to share your pain, you don’t have to cause yourself harm!”
“Wha- I’m not hurting myself, Ingrid!”
“Then why do you have that bandage?” Ingrid grabbed his arm, tearing off the bandage. Beneath it was the brand that had been singed into his skin by the god of mischief. Sprouting up around it were what looked like glowing cracks that shone a bright blue. The sight caused Ingrid to gasp, recoiling at the sight. “Norns…”
“I know! I can’t place why they’re here, but I know! It’s hideous!” Mobius rubbed his eyes. “It came out of nowhere.”
“Son of an Earth Giant, Mobius…” she breathed. “Does Loki know of this?”
“No. I can’t tell him. I can’t bear to. He would look down upon me.”
“No, you don’t know what he would do.” Ingrid grabbed his arm, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You serpentine beast… how could I be so stupid as to believe you were an innocent mortal man?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ingrid! What do you mean?!”
Ingrid paused for a moment, her brows knitting together. She dropped his arm and stood up, speed walking to the floor. She pried up a floorboard and pulled out an old book. Dusting off the leatherbound cover, she sat next to Mobius again. “Do you truly not know what you are?”
Mobius slowly shook his head. “I just assumed I was ill. Some Aesir flu.”
Ingrid sighed, her fingers threading through the parchment to find an old illustration of an old god. Hair of grey, and eyes of blue, with cracks along his body. Above the illustration was a name, nearly worn away with time.
Janus.
God of Beginnings and Endings.
Mobius felt his head start to ache. “Who is Janus?”
“The god of beginnings and endings, the god of time. He’s Roman.” Ingrid leaned closer. “If I tell you this, you must promise you won’t tell Loki I told you.”
Mobius nodded. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Ingrid sighed, flipping another page. “Janus was a Roman god who strayed from his domain to meet the Aesir. At first, he wanted to be the conqueror of this kingdom, until he met Loki.” She shut the book, tracing the rough leather with her finger. “Janus was a conquerer at heart, and he saw Loki as another conquest. A beautiful deity with wide eyes and a lively spirit, he wanted them. He had to have them.”
“And… did Loki refuse?”
“Oh, not at all. They wanted Janus, too.” Ingrid handed him the book. “But they were terrible for each other. Toxic. Loki wanted to be loved, and Janus longed to possess them. Loki was slowly dying, and yet… they wanted more. When the rest of the gods tried to give him hell for it, Janus locked himself inside a human vessel so that one day he may rise again and have his kingdom with his consort.”
Mobius glanced at the cracks in his skin. “And he’s inside of me?”
“I hope not. I’d rather not see Loki react like an animal in heat to you having those blue buggers on your arm.” Ingrid shuddered. “Those were dark times.”
Mobius’ cheeks flushed a deep red. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Will you help me cover them?”
“I don’t know. By the looks of it, they’re growing.” Ingrid grabbed some charcoal from the fireplace and made a mark on his arm where the cracks stopped, watching them. It only took a moment or two for them to tear through the marking and move past it like wildfire. “Goodness… if Janus is in there, he’s very eager to get out.”
“How do I hide it?”
“Get yourself one of those gloves that goes all the way up to the shoulder. It’ll hide as much as possible. So long as Loki doesn’t try and take off your clothes, you’ll be fine.”
“Oh, Norns,” Mobius sighed.
Ingrid gasped. “You cannot be serious! You and Loki?!”
Mobius covered his face with his hands. “I know, it’s bad, but they’re so… is it a crime?”
“To shag a prince?”
“To get shagged by a prince, but yes, I suppose that’s applies.”
“No, I don’t think so, though I don’t recall a priest ever getting shagged by the god he served.”
Mobius managed a laugh. “Well, I’d suppose not.”
Ingrid shared that laugh with him. “You’re a special one, Mobius.”