Chapter 37
Loki returned to his own rooms just before sunrise, promising to come for me within the hour.
Yara, already awake, had noticed the guards. When she asked about it, I told her something had happened—but that I wasn’t at liberty to share the details yet.
“I trust you completely,” I reassured her. “But it’s not good news… and it’s better to wait for the official word.”
I was still staring blankly at my wardrobe when a knock came at the door. Yara opened it, and a moment later, Frigga swept into my bedroom with several garment bags draped over her arms. She placed them carefully on the bed, then turned to Yara.
“I will help her dress,” she said gently.
“I had these made for you last night,” Frigga said solemnly, unzipping the bags to reveal rich, dark fabric. “They are respectful in tone. Elven in design, though altered to suit our court. They are not black—you were not formally courting—but it was clear to everyone that you were close. You cannot wear mourning colors, but dark purple strikes the balance. It signals both loss and nobility. Grief and respect.”
She laid the dresses out one by one. One was particularly elaborate, with dark armor plates resting beside the skirt. I couldn’t help but touch it.
“That one is for a funeral,” she explained. “King Merinor will decide if it will be held here or in Alfheim. If you choose to attend, I would advise wearing that one. But for now, I suggest this.”
She pointed to a flowing gown with elegant silver stitching and long, sheer sleeves. It looked the most elven of the set.
“King Merinor will likely appreciate the gesture,” she said. “He will arrive later this morning.”
My heart sank. I hadn’t thought about the king yet—what this would mean for him. I didn’t know what had happened after the garden, but to lose both his wife and now his only son… I couldn’t imagine that kind of grief.
“Does he already know?” I asked as she helped me into the dress. “Or will he be told when he arrives?”
“Odin left for Alfheim before dawn,” she said. “We thought it best the king hear it from the Allfather himself. Odin will escort him back to Asgard. Heimdall has already informed us they should arrive around eleven.”
I glanced at the clock—it was already 9:30. I still had time.
Frigga helped with my hair, weaving it with care and adding only my tiara—she left the rest of the jewelry in its case.
Once I was seated again, she took my hand. Her grip was warm but firm.
“I would like you to stand with Thor and Loki today,” she said. “I want the court—and the Elven delegation—to see you beside them. A united front. A show of strength and of trust.”
I could feel the weight in her words. Her worry.
“What aren’t you saying?” I asked gently. “Please, Frigga. Just tell me.”
She hesitated, clearly torn between her role as queen and as mother. She sat beside me, looking weary.
“King Merinor is… unpredictable,” she said. “I do not know how he will respond to this tragedy. He may become our ally in the search for his son’s killer. Or he may blame us. For failing to protect him. He could sever our alliance. He could even push for war.”
I swallowed hard. “And you think I can help him… forgive Asgard?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I know you. And based on what I have heard of your time in Alfheim, I believe he likes you. I also understand that you would prefer to keep your distance after what happened during the Sun and Moon Festival. But if there is anything—anything at all—you can do to soften his view, it would mean a great deal.”
I stared at her, uneasy.
“How far are you asking me to go?” I asked, voice sharper than I intended. “Please don’t sugarcoat it. I don’t have experience in diplomacy. I need to know what you’re actually asking.”
Her eyes widened. “No—nothing like that,” she said quickly. “Odin and I hoped you would speak with him. Comfort him, if possible. As a friend, nothing more. If he makes any kind of advance, I expect you to leave and come directly to me. I will make it clear that it is unwanted. You are not to do anything that goes against your will.”
Relief flooded through me, sudden and sharp.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a sheepish smile. “For a second, I thought… well. I thought you were asking me to seduce him to keep Alfheim on our side. I owe you so much, Frigga, but I couldn’t do that.”
She stood and pulled me into a hug.
“I would never use you that way, Aurora. You are my daughter. I would sooner declare war on Alfheim than ask that of you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered against her shoulder, clinging to her warmth.
When we stepped back into the sitting room, Yara’s eyes widened at the sight of my dress. Frigga must have noticed too, because she turned and beckoned her forward—
“As you can see from Lady Aurora’s attire, she is in mourning,” Frigga said softly. “Prince Muriel’s life came to a very tragic end last night. I will not go into details, as there will be an official statement later today. I have laid out several gowns for the coming days and events. Please assist her with her wardrobe as needed. And, Yara…” Frigga’s voice grew firmer. “I must ask for your discretion. This is not to be spoken of until the Allfather gives formal word.”
Yara nodded and bowed deeply.
Frigga turned to me. “I will go and prepare myself. It may be best if you take breakfast in your rooms—perhaps with Loki, if he is available. The king will address the court at eleven fifteen. At noon, there will be a private gathering with the royal houses of Asgard and Alfheim. Your presence will be required for both.”
I nodded, and Frigga gave me a gentle squeeze of the hand before she left.
Yara approached, and I could see the compassion written across her face. I raised a hand before she could speak.
“Yara… I really appreciate it. But please, not right now.” My voice trembled. “I’ll fall apart if I talk about him.”
She understood—she always did—and offered a quiet bow before heading out to find Loki.
I sat near the window, trying to steady myself. The knock came minutes later. Loki stepped inside, dressed in formal leather gear, the color a darker green than usual. His presence was grounding.
“Are you alright?” he asked, taking a seat beside me.
“I’m trying not to fall apart,” I admitted. “Your mother made it clear that appearance is everything today. If I cry in front of the court, they’ll start speculating about my relationship with Muriel, and I just… I can’t give them that.”
Loki gave a slow nod. “We will only be in the public eye for the morning. When we retire to speak with King Merinor, you will be free to grieve—however you choose.”
“Not quite however,” I said, sighing.
He tilted his head slightly, confused.
“Your mother asked me to help placate King Merinor. To keep him from blaming Asgard for what happened. She thinks I may be able to soften his stance.”
Loki stiffened immediately. “She asked you to what?”
“Not like that,” I said quickly. “She was very clear—if he makes any advances, I am to leave immediately. She said she’d rather start a war than ask me to do something against my will. I believe her.”
He ran a hand through his hair, visibly agitated.
“I understand her intent,” he said after a pause. “But I do not like her placing that burden on you. Thor and I have centuries of diplomatic training. You do not. And I know how uncomfortable this sort of court posturing makes you.”
“I’ve been welcomed into your family,” I said gently. “Frigga refers to me as a daughter. That comes with responsibility too. If I can help prevent more loss—especially war—then I’ll do what I can.”
He didn’t answer, but I could feel the tension in him ease. Yara returned then with breakfast. I forced myself to eat something, though nothing tasted right. Still, I felt a little steadier by the time we stood to leave.
Thor met us in the corridor, also dressed in a darker version of his formal armor. We walked in silence, sticking to the servants’ passages to avoid curious stares.
Near the side entrance to the throne room, Frigga stood waiting. She wore a dress identical in design to mine—but so dark a purple it nearly appeared black.
Loki gave a small smile. “Mother… you are making a statement today.”
She laughed quietly and slipped her arm through mine. As we walked, I felt the tingle in the back of my neck—a soft bond nudge.
“She is dressed to match you,” Loki’s voice echoed in my mind. “Normally, only a daughter may wear a gown that mirrors the queen’s. The only difference is the shade. As Queen of Asgard, she is the mother of all her people—and thus required to mourn each of them as family.”
A murmur rolled through the crowd as we stepped inside. Odin must have entered just before us. The court quieted as he banged his staff against the floor.
“Today is a dark day,” he said as he rose. “A terrible tragedy has come to light. Let it be known that such crimes are not tolerated in Asgard.”
He paused for effect. “Prince Muriel of Alfheim—our royal ambassador—was found dead in his chambers last night.”
A wave of shocked whispers swept the hall.
Odin allowed them a moment, then struck the floor again for silence.
“I will not rest until the one responsible is found,” he bellowed. “A reward will be issued for any information that leads to the capture of his murderer. There will be a full investigation. And I warn you all—anyone who obstructs this investigation shall be held in contempt of the crown.”
He sat, then continued more calmly.
“Tonight, we will hold a banquet in Prince Muriel’s honor. All nobles are expected to show the royal family of Alfheim the respect they are owed. They have long been our friends and allies. Today, both of our kingdoms grieve.”
He looked out across the court, his voice heavy.
“Go now. Return to your families. Hold them close. If this has taught us anything, it is that life is not to be taken for granted.”
The room remained silent long after he finished. Then Odin and Frigga stepped down from the dais and crossed toward us. Odin’s face, always so composed, showed the strain beneath. I could feel his emotions—he loved his sons dearly. I wondered if they knew.
He led us to a smaller reception chamber nearby. A fire burned in the center, surrounded by comfortable benches. There were refreshments laid out on a long table to the side.
Frigga and Odin took seats near the fire. Thor drifted toward the wine. I glanced at the time. King Merinor would be arriving soon, and dread began to settle in my chest.
I poured myself a small glass of wine and leaned against the wall. Loki and Thor joined me just as the side door opened.
King Merinor entered with two Elven nobles trailing behind him—faces solemn, postures stiff. I recognized them from the royal table in Alfheim. Their emotions were smug, self-satisfied… and carefully masked beneath grief. I guessed they were next in line for the throne.
King Merinor greeted Odin and Frigga first. The embraces were polite, the condolences spoken softly.
I watched him carefully. Outwardly, he was composed—grieving, yes, but measured. Inside… he was in agony. I could feel it. Pain. Regret. Guilt. Loneliness. For all his faults, he had loved his son.
When the formal greetings ended, he turned and walked toward us.
Loki and Thor greeted the king and offered their condolences, which Merinor accepted with a nod. After a moment, the two brothers turned to make their way toward Odin and Frigga to extend their respects to the other Elven nobles.
Thor moved without pause, but Loki hesitated, clearly reluctant to leave me alone with Merinor. I met his eyes and gave him a small, reassuring smile—a silent confirmation that it was alright. Only then did he follow after his brother, though not without a final glance back.
There was a pause as Merinor’s eyes shifted to me. I saw his gaze linger on my dress. He didn’t say anything, but I could feel the weight of the moment between us. He looked just as uncomfortable as I felt.
I motioned toward my gown, trying to break the silence.
“The Queen and I thought it would show respect for Muriel,” I said softly.
A sad smile tugged at his mouth.
“Muriel would have liked it.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I began, trying to keep my emotions in check. But the moment I said his name, the weight of it all came crashing down. I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks.
Muriel had looked so much like his father, and the image of him lying motionless on that bed flashed through my mind. I winced.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, turning away to collect myself.
A warm hand landed gently on my shoulder, coaxing me to face him again. When I looked up, Merinor’s expression was soft.
“Please,” he said quietly, “do not apologize for grieving over my son. I know you left Alfheim under strained circumstances. I know that, at that time, the two of you were no longer close… but it warms my heart to see someone who grieves for him as I do.”
He paused, then added with genuine remorse,
“I beg of you, forgive my foolish behavior in the garden that day.”
I could feel how sincere he was. Before I could answer, he continued.
“I also hope you would do me the honor of calling me by name.”
I wiped my cheeks and managed a small smile.
“You’re forgiven. And I would be honored to call you Merinor… if you’ll do me the same courtesy and call me Aurora?”
His eyes drifted to a pair of chairs near the wall, away from the rest of the nobles. He motioned for me to join him, and I followed. I could feel the eyes of his court on us, their suspicion sharp. They clearly did not like me being alone with their king.
“Aurora,” Merinor began after a moment of quiet, “Odin told me that you were the one who found my son.”
I nodded. “Yes. I received a letter. It was from Muriel—he asked me to check on him. He wrote that I might find clues in his notes. He believed the person responsible for the thefts and murders in Alfheim had come to Asgard.”
I took a deep breath before continuing.
“I found the notes in his room. Scattered. Torn. Ink spilled everywhere. It looked like someone had rifled through everything in a rush. As I moved through the room, I felt a tingle of magic. There was an illusion cast over the bed… but I had no idea what it was hiding.”
I tried to steady my voice. “I rested my hand on the bed and felt that it was wet. I returned to the front room, summoned a light, and that’s when I realized… it was blood.”
My hands were trembling again. I folded them tightly in my lap to try and hide it, but he noticed.
“I am sorry to upset you,” he said gently. “But I must ask. Can you tell me more?”
“I understand,” I murmured, taking a small sip of wine before I went on.
“As soon as I realized it was blood, I contacted Loki, Thor, and Frigga. I waited for them in the front room. I… I couldn’t go back in there alone. When they arrived, we returned together. Loki and Frigga examined the magic. They didn’t recognize the trace—it took both of them to break the illusion.”
I paused, the image of Muriel’s body burned into my memory. I closed my eyes for a moment, but it didn’t help. I flinched.
“You were there,” Merinor said gently. “When the illusion fell.”
I nodded. “Yes.” That was all I could manage. The tears were back, and I wiped them quickly away.
“Why did you look?” he asked. “You already knew there was blood.”
I shrugged. “I needed to see. I needed to know if it was really him. I kept hoping it was some kind of trick, something to get our attention, to… to make us come together again. I thought maybe he’d be sitting there, laughing at how gullible we were.”
I shook my head. “I never expected… that.”
“I understand,” Merinor said softly. “You needed the truth. I know that feeling all too well.”
He paused, then looked at me more intently.
“Aurora, may I see the letter my son wrote to you? I would like to know his last words.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, “but I’m not sure where it is. Odin or Frigga were the last to have it.”
I glanced across the room and caught Frigga’s eye. She was already watching us. I gave a small wave, and she made her way over immediately.
“Daughter, how may I assist you?” she asked, her voice kind but firm.
The nobles near us all turned their heads, visibly startled by her use of the word daughter. She had never called me that in public before.
Frigga was definitely doing it on purpose, and I decided to follow her lead.
“Mother, Merinor asked if he could see the letter Muriel sent me. Do you still have it?”
Frigga nodded and reached into the sleeve of her gown.
“I thought he might ask. I am glad you requested my daughter’s permission, Your Majesty. It was a private letter, and I am pleased to see it respected.”
She handed the folded parchment to Merinor, who took it with care. He examined the seal and the handwriting before reading the letter in silence. When he finished, he handed it back to Frigga.
“It has already been documented and checked for magical or physical traces,” she said to me as she returned it.
“Would you like to keep it?”
“Yes, please,” I said, managing a small, grateful smile as I accepted the letter.
It probably seemed silly, but with Muriel gone, the letter felt like the only piece of him I had left. I had returned all of his other gifts in Alfheim. This was all I had now.
“You wish to keep the letter?” Merinor asked, sounding surprised.
“Yes,” I admitted. “To remember him by. When I ended our relationship, I returned all of his gifts. I didn’t want him to think I had kept anything because of its value. This letter… it’s different. It has no worth to anyone but me.”
I hesitated. “Unless, of course, you wanted it. To remember him by.”
I held it up, offering it to him.
He gave me a full, genuine smile. “No, Aurora. It is yours. I am honored by your offer, but those were his final words—and they were meant for you. You should keep them.”
He paused, then added, “I do have one more question, if I may. What were the gifts my son gave you?”
I blushed. “He and Loki gifted me two sets of knives. Since they were from both of them, I kept them—but I had Loki change the design. Muriel had embossed them with his royal leaf pattern. I didn’t know the significance of that at the time. He also gave me a handwritten book and a white gold circlet. I returned both in Alfheim.”
Merinor studied me for a moment. “He gifted you a handwritten book?” he asked, and I suddenly remembered that it had been a secret.
My eyes shot up. I could see the curiosity—and growing intrigue—on his face.
“My, that must have been a special book,” he said with a faint grin.
“Please don’t be mad at him,” I said quietly. “You’ll find the book and the circlet among his belongings anyway, but I want to explain. I have this talent—I can absorb a lot from reading something just once. Muriel once found me reading a book on Elven dancing. He laughed at first, thought it impossible to learn a dance from a book, but then he watched me do it almost perfectly. Just from reading the instructions.”
“That truly is an incredible talent,” Merinor said, surprised. “But what was the book about? And why would I be angry?”
“I was about to leave for Alfheim. Muriel was nervous for my safety. He and Loki gave me the daggers, but just owning them wasn’t enough—I needed to know how to use them. And there wasn’t much time left to teach me.”
I saw the realization dawn on his face.
“He hand-copied one of your family’s heirloom texts, translated it into all-speak. He redrew the diagrams, enchanted the illustrations so they moved. He even added little notes, tailoring it specifically for me. It must have taken him days to finish in time. It was the kindest, most thoughtful thing he ever did. I studied it before I left—it helped a lot. I still need to work on my strength, but it gave me a real foundation.”
Merinor stared off for a moment, his expression unreadable.
“Please don’t be mad at him,” I said again, softer this time. “I returned the book—it’s somewhere among his things ether here or back in Alfheim. I never shared it with anyone. I knew how precious it was.”
He looked back at me. “I am not angry. Not at him, not at you. A week ago, I might have been. But now… I am simply ashamed. I never realized how deeply my son cared for you. I thought he was playing some political game. But the effort he put into that… and the letter you received… it’s clear now. You mattered deeply to him.”
He shook his head. “It only deepens my regret over how I treated you in Alfheim.”
I placed a hand on his arm. “There’s no point dwelling on what we can’t change. We can only learn from it and try to do better.”
“You are a kind woman,” he said after a moment. “I see now why my son cared for you… and why Odin’s family holds you so dear.”
I grinned. “They’re the kind ones. They took me in and gave me a second family.” I glanced toward them. Loki was pretending not to look at us, but I could feel how unsettled he was, not knowing what we were discussing.
“Do you think you’re ready to rejoin them?” I asked gently.
Merinor nodded. “Yes, I have much to discuss with Odin and his sons about the investigation.”
He placed a hand on my arm. “Aurora, I want to make you a promise. I will personally go through my son’s belongings—both here and in Alfheim. When I find the gifts he gave you, I will have them returned. They belong with you.”
I blinked, surprised. “Thank you… but if I may ask—please only return the book. I didn’t understand the meaning behind circlet when I accepted it. Knowing now what it symbolized, it feels wrong to accept it again.”
He smiled. “Then I will have it changed. I shall have the circlet engraved with the Elven symbol of friendship. It will stand for your place as a cherished friend to the crown of Alfheim. That, I believe, is a far truer reflection of your standing with us—because that is how I see you.”
I smiled. “Thank you. I’d be honored to accept it.”
Merinor took my hand, and we walked together to rejoin the others.
There was some time spent talking—quiet conversations drifting between memories of Muriel and shared silences that felt heavier than words. No one seemed ready to move on, not really. Eventually, the discussion shifted toward the investigation. Odin, Merinor, and the others began outlining plans, their voices laced with anger, distrust, grief, and the need for justice.
I listened for a while, but it was exhausting and distressing. My head buzzed, my limbs felt heavy. I asked permission to return to my room, and no one questioned it.
As soon as I entered my room, I sagged into a chair. I was completely drained, but I noticed a letter resting on the little table beside me. I opened it and was relieved to see it was from Sif. She had heard about Muriel and offered her condolences and support. She briefly mentioned how she and the others were faring, but mostly, she just wanted to lend a warm shoulder—and I was grateful for it.
I swapped my clothes for a nightgown and walked to my bedroom. The moment I saw my bed, a vision of Muriel flashed through my mind. I hated how simple things like a bed could pull me straight back to the night before. I really needed to get a handle on this. I flopped face-down onto the mattress, trying to push the image away.
A tingle sparked at the back of my neck.
“Are you asleep already?” Loki’s voice brushed through my thoughts.
“No. I’m currently face down on my bed trying not to think about last night. It’s going to be tough to get any rest, I think. Apparently, even looking at a clean bed can trigger some things.”
I felt Loki’s compassion flicker gently through the bond.
“Want some company? I’m in my own bed and having the same problem,” he admitted.
I smiled. “Stay there. I’ll come over—maybe a strange bed will do me some good.”
I climbed out of bed and pulled the Loki book on my bookcase. I had never used the hidden door before and was curious to see his room. It was even larger than mine and looked a lot like his library—filled to the brim with books, curiosities, and papers piled everywhere. A small hallway split off with a few doors on either side. One opened, and there he was.
I walked over, and he took my hand, gently guiding me with him into his bedroom.
His bed was a different shape from mine—larger, with dark columns carved with serpentine designs. As I’d suspected, the bedding was green and decadently luxurious. He slid into bed and held the blanket up so I could join him.
“This is the first time you’ve been in my room,” he said as I curled into his arms.
“I hope it helps,” I murmured. “My bed was giving me the creeps. I know it’s childish, but it’s the same shape as the one in Muriel’s room. I got flashbacks just from looking at it.”
Loki hugged me tighter. “I hope mine is more comfortable, then.”
I chuckled. “With you next to me, I could sleep comfortably in a field. So if this plan fails, I’ll just drag you outside and sleep there.”
Loki grinned. “If that’s what it takes for a decent night’s sleep, just say the word.”
I listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and my eyes grew heavy. It was absurd how safe I felt in Loki’s arms. I really had to be careful with this whole sleeping-together situation—I was getting way too dependent on the way he held me.
But it was the most perfect nap.
When I opened my eyes, Loki was still sleeping beside me. I studied his room—elegant, detailed, and saturated in rich shades of green. I turned to look at him again and couldn’t help but smile. His face was totally relaxed, his features softened in sleep.
It wasn’t that he normally frowned all the time, but aside from his more mischievous moments, Loki usually wore a serious expression. I’d noticed that around me—especially when we were alone—he looked much more at ease. But even that didn’t compare to how peaceful he looked now.
It was like he wore a mask for the rest of the world. One built on mystery and power. Maybe it helped maintain the image Asgard expected of him. After all, his position wasn’t to be admired—it was to be feared. Unlike Thor, who was praised for his strength and charm, Loki was all calculation and shadow.
It still hurt to think about how Odin had shaped that image—how he used both his sons as political pieces. I understood that ruling meant making hard choices. I even understood Frigga asking me to speak kindly to Merinor. But Odin… he had turned his children into weapons.
Loki shifted in his sleep, unconsciously pulling me tighter against him. A small smile curved his lips, and I wished I knew what he was dreaming. I stayed still, savoring the warmth and quiet, and let my eyes drift shut again. Maybe, just maybe, I could fall back asleep too.