The Cobalt Dress
I don’t think I’ve ever stared so long at my own reflection.
Not because I like what I see, no—that’s not why my jaw’s hanging open. It’s the fact that I look like an American Girl Doll that sneezed and accidentally birthed a thousand ruffles.
“Are there any others left?” I turn to the young handmaiden who’d dropped off the collection of dresses.
She shakes her head politely, otherwise refusing to speak to me. I can’t say I blame her entirely, I’m not sure I’d have anything nice to say, either. At least this dark cobalt dress is in my color wheel, and from the chest up, I’ll look more or less presentable.
The strange, hook-shaped iron I’d also been given seemed pretty intimidating at first—it might’ve produced lovely curls if I hadn’t decided to stick with my natural waves. I did use the iron to flatten them a bit though, to give them a slightly more ‘intentional’ appearance. With the slightest bit of powder and makeup, I’m good to go by nightfall.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself—again and again on my ride down in the glass elevator. The handmaiden, Yliana, was supposed to ride down with me… But there was no room in the elevator for both her and my skirt. I stare down at it contemptibly as the elevator settles onto the pad, and shuffle out awkwardly as soon as the doors open.
Just in and out—I don’t need to stay very long. I can say hello to everybody and be back in my room in no time at all.
I turn to the right, headed toward a small hallway leading to one of the halls I’ve never been in before, where the event is being held. Thankfully, there’re no people in the hallway to see my awkward waddle, probably because of my own slight tardiness. If anyone asks, I’ll blame it on the skirt somehow, and move about the event very slowly. No one will argue with that—or me, if they want to keep breathing.
From around the corner, I can see that the doors are closed—even more so, it turns out I’m not alone out here. A tall, lean figure is standing before the door, with his back facing me. I stumble over my ridiculous heels as soon as I see him, and he turns toward the abrupt noise. A pair of light, blue eyes connect with mine immediately.
Loki—of course it’s Loki. Standing tall and proud, half-turned with his arms crossed, in his usual gleaming suit of black—no cape this time.
His soft, widened eyes fall suddenly to my dress, and visibly stiffen. I freeze in place, staring at him intently as his lips curl inward against each other slightly, pulling the corners of his mouth down in an expression of great restraint. I’d like to think my makeup covers the hot embarrassment that’s filling my cheeks.
I sway in place awkwardly for a moment—trying just as hard as he must be, to find something to say.
“Um…” I mumble, letting out a slight chuckle as I gesture to the dress. His eyes dart up to mine. “Think you could, uh—do something about this?”
The subtle hint of an amused grin suddenly grows into a broad smile, as he bursts into laughter. “Oh I’d be happy to,” he croaks, parting his arms with a wave of one hand.
A familiar flurry of rushing fabrics breaks out over my skin with a flash of light and pressure—lifts me slightly off the ground. I look down to see the ruffles gone—replaced by a sleek, form-fitted gown of a slightly deeper shade, gleaming under the bright lights of the hallway with its off-shoulder neckline, and loose sleeves tumbling along my arms. A delicate, sheer sash trails over my shoulder from the center of the cleavage, completing the elegant look.
I run my fingers over the soft fabric, squinting to see the invisible threads before dropping my hand down, and sighing heavily with relief. “Oh thank God…”
“You’re welcome,” he responds sarcastically.
I look back up at him, tightening my lips. “All because you’re here,” I mutter quietly with a nod.
A glimmer of doubt passes over his eyes as he nods in turn. “I couldn’t very well leave when you’re still angry at me.”
“And the tesseract?” I ask.
“Someplace safe,” he says, stepping toward me.
“So,” I pause. “If I told you I’m not angry, you’d go?”
“No,” he says tightly, holding my gaze.
Tension flickers in my chest, and I bob my head slightly. “Alright, well….” I mumble, gesturing to the door. “We should probably go inside,” I raise my hands up. “How do I look?”
Loki tilts his head slightly, eyes passing over me once. “Regal.”
I grin. “Regal?”
He nods, eyes softening as he peers at me at with a grin. “Like a queen,” he pauses, raising a brow. “I would know.”
I grin, holding every other muscle in my face frozen tightly—subduing the tide rising in my chest. I swallow hard as he steps toward me suddenly and turns—offering an arm as his eyes flicker up to meet mine. He’s not smiling anymore, and actually, I really can’t read his expression at all. It’s neither impressed, nor threatening, nor amused in any other way. Simply calm and contemplative, like he’s waiting on my acceptance or denial.
I look down at it for a moment before reaching up and under it, grasping the chill, leather sleeve as I step up to his side. “I think we’re late,” I sigh, looking up at his face. “I hope no one notices…”
Loki furrows a brows and nods intently. “Oh, sure,” he says—before waving a hand demonstrably through the air.
My head turns sharply as the double doors suddenly swing open, revealing the mass of people standing and dancing within—who probably wouldn’t have have noticed us otherwise. I turn my head slowly back up at Loki, but he simply smiles amusedly and pulls me forward gently, leading me into the hall. Guess he wanted to make an entrance.
The hall, though, is truly a sight to behold—the most beautiful room I’ve seen thus far. Not only do the walls and ceilings tower inordinately high, they’re also carved and embellished with beautiful fixtures, murals and chandeliers, which mirror brightly against the pale, beige marble beneath our feet—creating the illusion of enormity.
More than a few faces turn toward us, some eyeing us in between the turns and spins of their dancing. I glance up at Loki—who, by the contented look on his face, seems to be enjoying the attention much more than I am.
He turns his head, gazing down at me with a handsome grin. A contagious one—as the corner of my mouth curls with it, and I pull my shoulders back pridefully, tilting my chin up toward my mischievous counterpart as we stride forward.
“Lara!” I hear a woman’s voice calling my name. I turn to see the queen walking briskly toward us, along the edge of the dancing crowd—wearing what’s only a slightly less atrocious version of the dress that I’d had on just moments before.
Loki leans toward me subtly. “Guess who picked your dress,” he whispers, and I squeeze his arm tightly before reaching back out to her in a quick embrace.
“Oh you just look so lovely!” Valaryn beams. “Where on earth did you find this dress?”
“It’s Asgardian,” Loki interjects, bowing his head respectfully. “Thought we might present a bit of our own heritage, for this fine occasion.”
I eye him curiously. The softness in his voice and fluidity of his movements—when he’s not aggravated or bitterly bored, he has the markings of a dignified gentleman.
“Isn’t that right?” he looks at me.
I widen my eyes. “Hm?”
Loki chuckles softly before looking back up at Valaryn. “Seems she’s a bit distracted.”
My eyes trail back toward the sound of her bright, cheery laugh among the music in the background. “Oh that’s alright,” she says, placing a hand endearingly on my shoulder. “Tonight is exactly for that—distractions and celebration.”
I grin, lowering my chin. “That it is…” I mutter quietly.
“Well I’m glad to see you both here,” she says, looking between us. “I’d heard a little something from my youngest that one of you might not come,” she raises a brow at Loki.
“A minor disagreement,” he grins politely. “Nothing to be concerned about.”
“Good, good,” she nods her head, and turns to gestures toward the tables on the far end of the room. “There’s plenty of food and refreshments to go around—if you’ll excuse me though, I’ve a quick matter to see to. Be sure to dance, now!” Valaryn grips my arm and turns, striding briskly away from us.
“Dancing,” Loki mutters slowly. “Haven’t done that yet, have we?”
I raise a shoulder gently, and let it drop as he leads me around the edge of the dance floor—toward the tables.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, turning me slightly.
I look up at his searching expression, not quite knowing what to say. It’s not like I’ve forgotten everything that led up to this moment, and it’s not like we talked about any of it. Not with total honestly, at least.
“Nothing’s wrong,” I say calmly. “Just not looking forward to any speeches.”
“No—stop,” he pulls on my arm, stopping me in my tracks. “What is it, really?”
I peer up at him for a moment, parting my lips as the music stops abruptly on a high note. We both look back at the circle of dancers dispersing to our left, as Weylan steps into the cleared opening—clad in the fine, embellished robes of a king, and holding a golden chalice in his right hand.
“Welcome all,” he smiles as the crowd dies down, and lifts both arms in a welcoming gesture, as his deep voice resonates throughout the hall.
Loki and I glance at each other once more as he shifts to my side, facing the king.
“Now that we’ve all gathered,” he turns and grins at us demonstrably. “I’d like to personally thank each and every one of you. Not only for attending this celebration, but for each contribution that you’ve all made in light of recent events. I do believe that now, there is great reason for us to hope for nearing peace. And in light of that, I invite you all to continue on with us—continue on in courage, and in strength. Victory is on the horizon,” he turns to us, and raises the chalice. “And of course, we are grateful to our honorable guests, who have brought it within our reach.”
Nearly a hundred eyes turn and peer at us, some raising their own goblets in our direction. I grin slightly, lowering my chin respectfully as my only response.
“Tonight is for you,” the king nods at us, and then the rest of the room. “For all of you!”
A wave of applause breaks out among the crowd. In the corner of my eye, I see Loki turn and peer at me for a moment. I glance around us—passing over every single face except for his—until he raises his hand in front of me.
“Will you dance with me?” he asks in a low voice.
I look back at him, and then down at his hand, as nervous tension flickers in my chest. With the multitude of eyes on us, I raise my hand reluctantly, placing it on top of his warm, callused palm. Loki’s fingers curl slightly inward as he grasps it, and I inhale sharply at his first brave step onto the floor—leading me out into the center.
I look around at the line of people staring at us— slowly beginning to realize that no one else is following us onto the floor. My eyes widen as soon as I realize that the lights have dimmed slightly as well.
I exhale nervously, prompting Loki to look over at me. “Alright?”
I shake my head slightly. “Not really,” I mutter quietly as we reach the center. I can’t even remember the last time I was nervous to perform in front of a crowd.
Then again, I can’t remember the last time that one person made me as nervous as Loki does.
His grip tightens for a moment as I step in front of him—laying my right hand on his shoulder. “Well… Perhaps I might offer a solution.”
“What?” I whisper, as a soft tune slowly begins to play.
“Open your mind to me—tell me where you’d rather be.”
Home. I blink, and the word appears in my mind.
Back in Los Angeles. Back in some bar with my friends, or some rooftop exhibition under the stars. I’d practically forgotten altogether that I’m an artist, that I have a life and a career somewhere far away. It all feels so out of reach now, like a glimpse of some possible life that passed me by like an image. One that I could envision, and even paint, but is otherwise overtaken and annulled by the new reality of my life.
“Close your eyes,” he whispers.
I shut them briefly, furrowing a brow at the sudden freshness against my skin, and smell of fresh rain against asphalt. Darkness slowly appears beyond my eyelids, and I open them again to the sight of towering skyscrapers all around, with city lights glinting softly and casting shadows across our faces on either side—while we stand motionlessly at the top of the tallest building, in the center of a wide, black, glossy surface that mirrors us perfectly from below.
The gentle melody goes on around us as my breathing pauses, and I look back up at Loki—staring searchingly at me, lips slightly parted.
His throat bobs slightly as he grins. “You lead,” he murmurs.
Wetness tinges my eyes, as I wonder whether the massive override barreling against my guarded heart is a threat.
“Just dance,” he says, sensing my hesitance. “Whatever you see—I’ll see it as well.”
With an inward nod, I pull away—gliding my hand down his leather sleeve until it’s in his hand. I step away, letting my arm flow freely about me before spinning slowly back toward him—where his hand appears at my waist, shortly after the gesture plays out in my mind.
Placing my own hand over it, I tilt my head slightly as he steps closer behind me. Feeling his breath on my cheek, I turn and meet his gaze for a moment as I curl my arm out slightly in front of me. A quick thought flickers in Loki’s heavy eyes as he sees the dance in his mind, and reaches out to take the back of my hand, pulling it inward. His palm rubs gently against the back of my hand as I guide them back around, and out to the side. I step forward, holding his gaze as I stride around him in a small circle, linked only by our fingers slightly intertwined.
With the image of returning back to our starting pose, Loki pivots slowly toward me. With one brush after another, the movements grow more fluid and bold as every turn and spin films in my mind, and passes through his.
And here we are. Here, with the skirt of my dress flowing gently with every motion, in the crisp, dark vastness of the illusion. Lightness blooms in my chest with every grin and moment of closeness between us, until the music rises to its final notes, and the flash of a gentle kiss permeates my mind.
He pulls me closer in with the finishing notes, with a quick, tender brush of lips that arrive and stay pressed against mine until the end of the song. The first, real moment between us. Neither a dream, nor the illusion of one.
As the darkness dissipates beyond my closed eyes, I pull away slowly, peering up at his soft, uncertain expression for a moment. Movement suddenly captures my attention from all sides, and I look around to realize that others had filled the empty space around us—hidden aptly by Loki’s illusion.
We lower our hands to our sides as the song comes to its fullest end—painfully aware of every inch of contact, and step away as we slowly begin to clap with the rest of the crowd.
When it dies down, I turn slightly to the side, glancing back up at Loki’s dazed, uncertain expression once more before striding calmly off the floor—in the direction of the door, where the crowd is thinnest and easiest to pass through.
I can practically feel their eyes on me as I approach them at the edge of the room, and I look up to see some of them jumping inquisitively between myself and someone behind me—Loki, no doubt. I slow down, letting it seem intentional, and pause briefly as I step past the line of people, and my eyes lock on the wide open double doors.
They’re so close… And I’ve been here all of, what? Fifteen minutes? The densest fifteen minutes of my life… Probably a socially appropriate amount of time to go without addressing my need for oxygen—but if it’s not, I’ll pretend it is.
I turn and stalk toward it—really needing just a minute to compose myself, that’s all. Let the redness drain out of my cheeks, and maybe dunk my heart into a bucket of ice cold water and liquid courage. Then I can go back in and frolic among these people just a tad bit more.
My pace picks up as soon as I’m in the hallway, and my heels click loudly all the way until the second hall. I exhale sharply as soon as the glass elevator comes into view—but I’m not alone.
“Lara-” Loki says.
“I’m sorry, I just…” I turn toward him, raising a hand up as I shake my head slowly. “I just need some air.”
“I know,” he says in an understanding tone. I pause, watching as a faint thought passes over his softened expression. “And… I know where we can go for that.”
***
Wow.
I didn’t even know this place existed—and maybe I’m not the only one, since there’s no one else up here.
The glass elevator brought us to the highest level of the tree, to a grandiose platform built amidst the topmost branches. It’s high enough for pockets of mist and fog to pass both through the branches over our heads, and against the dark, gleaming surfaces around us—which stretch across a considerable length, and rise upward on the sides in two demi-circles that are lined with faint, glimmering lamps along the edges.
The rest of it is empty—dark and empty—save for one, simple bench at each of the far ends, set just before the railings. And beyond the railings—even from the center of the platform, I can see the view is breathtaking. Loki had provided me with a cloak on our way up, but it does nothing against the bone-deep chill that permeates my skin as we tread closer to the edge—heels clicking and echoing loudly against the walls.
A gentle ray of moonlight pours over my face as I lay a hand on the icy, metal railing, and a heavy breeze lifts the hair off my frontside as I lean over it—looking down at the multitude of small twinkling lights below. From this high up, they’re just the tiniest sparks of life. Even the roots, and bright, glowing veins of the neighboring trees are small from here.
I grasp the metal tightly, feeling its corners press against my hand. “When did you manage to find this place?” I whisper breathlessly to Loki.
“I had time,” he responds.
I tear my eyes away from the ground below, turning toward him as he strides over with his hands behind his back—heading slightly to the side, where he can see the view over my shoulder.
I lower my chin, turning to lean against the railing. “Well done,” I grin.
Moments go by as we admire the scenery in silence, while the nighttime breeze continues to blow strands of hair out of our faces intermittently.
I couldn’t begin to remember the last time I experienced this type of peace. Amidst the whirling madness, somehow I’ve managed to find a stagnant space.
Well—I didn’t find it. Loki did. And then he showed me.
My hands are pale and cold as I push against the railing, standing up straight to turn back toward him, and his eyes jump to meet mine without any other movement.
“You didn’t leave,” I say.
His eyes sink back down to the view.
“Why didn’t you?” I ask, peering at his blank expression.
Thoughts flicker across his eyes for a moment, until he finally looks up at me defeatedly. “A most unfortunate reason, really,” he says in a low voice, striding over to the railing beside me, to lean against it. “It seems you’ve grown quite dear to me, and…” he pauses. “The idea of leaving you without protection was nauseating.”
A grin tugs on the corner of my mouth as I turn, leaning against the railing along with him, and leaving just a foot of space between us. “You think I need it?”
“I suppose not,” he shakes his head. “But I’m not very good at this.”
“At what?” I tilt my head against the breeze.
Loki presses his lips together. “Navigating these… things.”
“Yeah,” I pause. “I figured that, when you called me an encumbering nuisance.”
Loki blinks his eyes regretfully, before turning toward me sullenly. “I didn’t mean that.”
“No, you did,” I nod, and a brows rises with his widened eyes. “But it’s alright. If it’s just who you are—words don’t matter to me anyway.”
Twice I’ve told him to leave. Twice he’s had the chance to walk away—once with the stone. Whatever conflict he’s been experiencing, that’s spilled over into his words, doesn’t matter.
Loki pauses. “What matters to you, then?” he asks in a low voice.
I look up at him, and my heart warms at his thoughtful, searching eyes—even the subtle anxiety in his expression.
“Choices, of course,” I say softly, shrugging as I look away. “I have no allusions of people being perfect. From the start, this…This whole thing hasn’t exactly been a fantasy. Despite that,” I pause, considering my own words. “And despite the things you want, you’ve still made the choice to stay—again and again,” I look up, smiling at the gentility washed over his face. “That’s real—and it’s better than fantasy.”
He grins, glancing to the side. “I-” he chuckles. “I’m not sure what to say.”
I laugh quietly in turn. “Don’t say anything, we can just…” I pause, sliding my hand against the railing slightly as I step back. “Head back.”
“Wait-” Loki reaches out suddenly, clasping his left hand heavily over mine—pinning it to the railing. He shakes his head. “I… Don’t want to—not yet.”
I peer at him for a moment. “Okay,” I nod, practically whispering.
My eyes dart down to his hand as it wraps firmly over mine. I look back up at Loki and grin, lifting both our hands off the railing as I turn to the bench, and guide us both to it—retaining a firm grip. I lower myself down onto it, with Loki beside me, and wince as I set my other hand down to shift closer to him—feeling the icy chill of the bench that barely manages to penetrate the cloak and dress spilling out in front of me.
Leaning against him slightly, I lay my left hand over his—resting our intertwined hands between us as we look out at the view.
“I love you,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence.
I could swear my vision went dark for an instant. I look up at him, at his illuminated profile staring blankly ahead into the lights below.
“I just,” he blinks, turning his head slightly. “Wanted you to know.”
So that’s why he wanted to stay. My lip curls as Loki glances in my direction, noting the grin before meeting my eyes.
I nod lightly. “I know.”
“There’s something else I wanted to tell you, that I’ve given much thought to,” he shifts toward me. “When all of this is over—it’s not the stone I want.”
I lower my chin, listening intently.
“I want you to come to Asgard with me,” he continues. “For the time being. I’ve things to amend, things I thought I wanted… But it all feels different now.”
“What do you mean?”
Loki parts his lips hesitantly. “I…” he pauses. “There are other things I want.”
I shake my head lightly, furrowing a brow. “I don’t understand…”
“I’ve made mistakes that I need to address, in light of what I’m asking of you,” his voice sinks. “You wouldn’t have a place in Asgard without me.”
“Why wouldn’t you have a place there?”
“It’s complicated,” he says. “Thor—my brother and I… We were in Svartalfheim. And with how things ended, he think I never returned.”
“What?” I ask. “How is that possible? You were in Asgard when we met.”
“I was, but my brother doesn’t know that. As I said—I’ve amends to make.”
“I see,” I whisper quietly. “And… After that, you want me to stay in Asgard.”
“You don’t have to answer me now, I understand it may be daunting.”
“No, I understand—you’re delaying our goodbye,” I smile. “When all of this is over.”
Loki peers at me for a moment, before shaking his head lightly. “I don’t want there to be one at all,” he says with a terrible softness.
Getting damn warm under this cloak… Might just be my heart jumping into overdrive, but there isn’t a single word that’s coming to mind. Absolutely nothing—so I continue staring back at him for a few moments, waiting for my brain cells to start firing again.
Finally, I exhale lightly. “I’ll think about it,” I say breathlessly. “I mean, it’s a big decision. Not like moving across cities, you know?”
“I know,” he says quietly, and nods. “Whatever you decide.”
I turn my head back to the view momentarily, until Loki releases my hand to shift even closer to me—wrapping one arm over me, and tilting my chin up toward him with the other.
I only catch his tranquil eyes for a moment before he leans in and presses his soft, cold lips tenderly against mine. His fingers brush my jaw as he reaches behind my neck and pulls me closer, until I’m close enough to lean my head against his shoulder—melding against him blissfully for who knows how long.
[to be continued]