the Final Judgment
Overwhelmed by plans you were not privy to, you hurriedly retreated to your bedroom. Quietly you undressed and let yourself soak in the bath for a while, trying in vain to clear the noises of your mind.
As your mind wandered you thought, but what if I don’t want to end the contract? My father can’t live forever perhaps it would be best to outlive the cunt…my hexes are typically reliable. Compared to a week ago, locked in your room unsure if you would live or join Jocelyn and your mother, this was much better. Loki seemed to be a different man than what you had heard, and you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. You knew your duty was for your kingdom and her people, but you felt defeated.
Sighing you rose from the bath, more confused than when you entered. It would be easy to quit but, your mother deserved a better legacy than a daughter who refused to fight for her homeland, for her people. Wasn’t that the entire point of being their queen, to protect them?
Returning to your bedroom, you noticed a new plush robe laid out on the bed. As you lifted it up, you were enveloped with the smells of the forest. Although you couldn’t see in the dark, you knew the fabric had been dyed a rich and dark hunter’s green. You pulled it on, and at long last pulled yourself into bed. Between the woodsy scent of the robe, and the cool breeze coming in from the balcony, you were lulled into a deep sleep.
You dreamed of Loki, the two of you walking barefoot in the forests of your childhood, stopping to note every blossoming memory. When you woke the next morning, you could almost feel the grass on your feet.
Halla was surprised to see you so relaxed and couldn’t hide her smile as she entered the room. You blushed lightly as she shot a questioning glance at your state of undress, prompting you to tie the mysterious robe closed. Had she been able to, Halla would’ve laughed at your faux modesty. As you stood to greet her, she pressed a small package into your hands.
The paper faded away with a flick of your wrist, revealing a note and a worn and delicate book.
I apologize for not being able to give you this in person,
upon waking this morning Thor and I were called away on royal matters.
I wished to leave you with some reassurance of my intentions.
The neatly scrawled note wasn’t signed, but as with most documents penned by a person with some magic, it held traces of it’s author. You were surprised to find Loki’s magick didn’t feel abrasive or maleficent, but curious. You sat down and opened the book, dropping it in shock as you glanced the first handwritten page. Halla stooped to retrieve the book, but upon glancing the page froze.
Desperately you grabbed it from the floor and ran your fingertips over the letters, feeling the familiar spark of magick. The book had been written by your mother, it’s leather binding showing her neat stitches as confirmation. The inscription read, “to my oldest and most dear friend, may this volume inspire magicks for you and your kin, forever yours -Rowena”.
You instructed the servants that you were still tired from the night’s festivities and wished to be left alone. You spent the day, sitting on your bed, surrounded with the smells of the forest, reading through the pages. Towards the center of the volume you found different magick traces in the marginalia. The languid looping script, belonged to Loki’s mother. Running your fingers over the notes, you felt her warmth. The responding notes, expanding on her ideas were certainly Loki’s, although it wasn’t as concentrated nor developed as the note he had sent you that morning, the magick was certainly his.
Towards sunset Halla brought you spiced mead and a little bread to tempt you from your focus. You nibbled lightly demonstrating a new spell, until Halla snatched the book away.
You started to reprimand her, stopping as she traced the rune for “why” into your palm. You grasped her hand in yours trying to sense what she wanted to say to you. All of her thoughts settled on wondering why. She was right, you didn’t know why this book or why now or why he was helping you at all. But you knew how to find out.
The next day you awoke early, determined to play the palace’s women at their own game. To loosen their tongues you dabbed peppermint oil behind your ears, and wore a dark tunic and leggings. You felt no matter what they’d have something to say and if that was the case, you could at least live as you liked.
You started at the servants’ quarters, where they were more than willing to talk on and on. Unfortunately, for the record, you already knew the rumors surrounding Loki’s fall from grace, and the heroism that restored him to his father’s favor. That was all anyone seemed to be sure of. Some women told you he was a wild brute of a man, driven mad with power. Others insisted he was some sort of deviant set to ruin his family’s good reputation. But mostly, you found they only knew he was not Thor; and little else mattered in comparison to the bulkier, happier brother. It was as if, instead of living as a prince Loki existed as a shadow content to live being despised as if he desired it.
The other women milling about were of no help. The few gathered outside gossiping and working at some sort of sewing or project, laughed at your questions. They could only recount more rumors of vague encounters, resigning instead to ask if you would join them in the sun, sketching or practicing whatever craft you enjoyed. They seemed sincere but, your craft was primarily writing, one best suited for solitude. None of them seemed bothered in the slightest with your admission and excuse.
Returning to your room you paced the floor lightly, contemplating seeking out the soldiers. Enough women were within their ranks that someone must’ve heard something, or seen something concrete in the sense of character. But even that felt like an unlikely source of information. Your options were dwindling, and you needed to know more if you were to believe his proposition as an ally.
You wandered onto your balcony, stretching your arms over the railing, letting the wind run over your skin. The little whispers caught along the gusts reminded you of the stories older women would tell when you were a child. Stories of the spirits that were so far from the goddess that they could only be heard on the wind.
Halla brought your evening meal as the sun was setting, pulling you back into your room. She moved as if possessed tying you up in blankets, terrified at how cold your skin had felt. You had stood on the balcony possibly for hours, not once feeling the cold covering your skin. You were comforted by Halla’s care and attempted to assure her of your health. In the end you promised to rest for the evening, and ate your meal followed by a very hot cup of tea.
Although there were no real whispers on the wind, the time in contemplation had given you an idea. Although the library was largely comprised of archives and noteworthy volumes- there should be some account of your betrothed either from a contemporary or in His late mother’s collections. It was worth a try, even if you found nothing, it would be a delightful place to relax and enjoy the quiet company of the tomes.
You waited until Halla returned to her own rooms to leave your’s. The library was lit by the soft glow of yellowed lamps, and became almost cozy once you lit a fire in the grand fireplace. You were tempted to choose a volume and curl up near the fire, losing yourself entirely to its contents. Yet the curiosity gnawing at your mind won out.
After an eternity of combing the racks, you found three books with some promise. One recounted the royal family, another a collection of the Allmother’s letters, and the last a record of the incidents surrounding the Allmother’s death, and her son’s subsequent redemption.
The latter you started but ultimately could not finish as each page hurt to turn, the memories of the Allmother and your Queen Mother too fresh in your mind. The history also resulted in little new information but did confirm some of the rumors regarding Loki’s escapade on Midgard. It was common knowledge he had been controlled by a much stronger force, yet it comforted you to see it written out.
The letters offered your best chance, filled with little things mother’s carried with them and shared slowly over time whether they knew or not. Halla eventually found you out, and unable to force you back to your room, brought you tea and a shrug to keep you warm. Had she not looked so concerned you might’ve laughed, the room was plenty warm enough. Time past and as footsteps approached you almost laughed, wondering what more Halla might’ve wanted with you. You were surprised to see Thor enter the room instead. He stopped short surprised at seeing you as well.
“My Lady, I hope I am not disturbing you,” he said.
“No worries,” you said smiling opting for a little white lie, “I felt restless and longed for a good book.”
Thor looked puzzled for a moment before deciding to speak plainly, “we’ve just returned and I had thought Lady Sif might be hiding away in here.”
You smiled lightly, “No, I haven’t the pleasure of meeting her yet, however I hear she speaks quite highly about you… and hardly anyone else.” Thor blushed lightly at being found out, and awkwardly mumbled a ‘goodnight’ before turning from the room.
As he left you quickly stood, needing to put away these books and retire. You’d read more than enough of the letters to have a good grasp of things, but desired time to think before being confronted. Unfortunately, you’d hardly moved to return the first volume when you sensed someone approaching from the hall.
You glanced about you quickly to see if any of those volumes might serve as a cover, only to find none that would make any sense in tandem with the others. No matter how slight, you knew Loki would notice the discrepancy. You entertained the idea of lying, acting as if you were about to retire, and those books were not yours. That you’d already sorted yours away and someone else had left the three volumes out.
As Loki entered the room, you resolved to tell the entire embarrassing truth if required. He was one man you could not fool with a simple lie. He was in an intense state of disarray, as if whatever matters they’d taken care of had turned violent. You couldn’t help but think, it wasn’t a bad look for him.
“Did you know your lady’s maid is quite concerned?” He started, chastising you.
You scoffed and leaned back on the table you had been standing in front of. Trying to string words together, surprised by his concern, “there’s no reason for Halla-“
“Are you sure? She sounded quite determined that you were freezing to death.”
“And do tell me, my Lord how she told you that? Unless you listened to her thoughts uninvited.” You spoke in jest, fully aware of how he heard you that second night thinking about his hair, and how he asked you to look at him during your debut.
Loki smirked instead of giving an answer, for the first time glancing at what you had been reading. The open pages held a letter he recognized immediately as being in his mother’s hand.
He stepped forward looking closer, “and pray tell pet, what subject have you been studying that’s brought you to my mother’s private things?”
You permitted a light blush to settle over your face, “the subject, my Lord? Naturally, you.” You shifted your gaze in a coquettish manner, away from his person.
“I had wondered what sort of man proposes treason as a wedding present,” you teased lightly snapping your eyes back to his.
Loki grinned and stepped closer, standing lax, his arms behind his back. “And tell me pet,” he said sardonically, “what sort of man am I?”
You were enjoying this too much. You raked your eyes over his lithe form under the guise of studying him. The darkness of his hair illuminated the deep green of his eyes, and although he was slim you could see the strength written in his muscles.
“You’re hardly a man. Not as I’ve known them.” You started, slowly walking around him as if you were an animal circling its prey. “There’s something more to you. Something much darker, smarter…stronger-“ You lightly dragged your fingertips over his back noticing the tension curled up like a spring in his shoulders.
Returning in front of him, you batted your eyes and produced a coy smile, “Tell me dear husband, is that the kind of man you are?” You tried to remain serious, but couldn’t as you saw the bewildered expression on his face. You laughed lightly, and relaxed back onto the desk covering your mouth.
“I’m sorry my Lord, in truth I was trying to find a reason why you would aid me but unfortunately, that-“ You gestured implicating your previous list, “-was all I truly discovered. You’re quite elusive.”
Loki scoffed lightly, unable to hide the smile that came to his face. Of course you knew all the stories of his past, his true heritage. But considering he bore witness to the public showings of your trauma, you elected to spare the rehashing of his. But you saw the reservation he still held, unsure if your acceptance was just another joke. If you were going to have any sort of a partnership, he needed to know: “I don’t care what you are,” you said lowly now unable to match his gaze with the weight of what you were saying, “I’ve no reservations about who you are or what you’ve done. How could I? You’ve been promised a bride, while all I can think of is war.”
For a moment there was perfect silence, no thoughts, no sounds- not even from the fireplace. But then- the air tensed like a storm preparing to break.