AN: I wrote this for the 2014 LDW Fanfiction contest, and to my utter surprise, this story won! Please enjoy, feel free to leave a comment if you like.
The air smelled like apple blossoms and rain, and she tipped her head up to see the stars, the planets, the galaxies spinning and shining so far above her. Her thoughts spun just as crazily, and her eyes shone star-bright with unshed tears. For years, she had worked at the palace, one more unimportant servant girl amid a faceless, nameless rabble. Her work was important and she valued every moment she spent outside of the small, cramped living quarters where the maids slept, but she desperately craved something else, something that would fill that deep, dark place in her. That secret void that she kept hidden behind bright smiles and between the covers of her leather-bound diary. She wanted to matter. She wanted to mean something. Tonight, she had been given that choice, but the circumstances...
She shivered in the slight breeze.
How can I refuse such a request...but how can I live with myself if I do?
Every day since his imprisonment, the Queen had sent her to the dungeons with Loki's meals and whatever items she could smuggle in to her son. Frigga did not explain her reasons for choosing this particular servant, and she did not presume to ask. The fallen prince all but ignored her, never deigning to look at her or acknowledge her presence aside from a dismissing wave of the hand. Just as it had always been.
Perhaps that was Frigga's reasoning for choosing this particular servant girl. She had been serving Loki since the prince had reached adulthood; polishing his armor, keeping his quarters clean and tidy, drawing his bath. All in silence. In truth, she had grown rather fond of the prince, found him interesting and, if she could be honest, quite handsome. But, as always, she had kept it to herself. It was not her place to act on such feelings, to act above her station.
Needless to say, she had been heartbroken when two years ago, Thor and The Allfather had returned from the splintered remains of the Bifrost, grieving the loss of the second prince. Odin said he fell, but Thor swore that Loki had let go, had thrown himself into the void. Of the two, she was more inclined to believe Thor. She went about her tasks in a dazed state, acting and reacting but nothing more. Until news reached her of Loki's survival, of his attempted coup over Midgard. When she heard that Thor would bringing home his wayward brother in chains, her heart felt split, torn straight down the middle. As overjoyed as she was to hear that he still lived, she was horrified when she discovered the atrocities he'd committed against a people that had done nothing to him. The lives he'd taken, the damage he'd wrought. It was unthinkable.
Odin had sentenced him to a lifetime in the dungeons, to be considered no more than a common criminal for his deeds. Agony, for one who was once in line for the throne.
At first, she had been more than happy to accomplish the tasks Frigga asked of her, if it meant she could see him again. But quickly, that happiness faded and shrunk as she saw what he had become. His handsome face had become gaunt, dark shadows looming around his eyes and prominent cheekbones now sharp enough to cut. He was thin, he stood with his shoulders defensively hunched. And he would not look at anyone.
Her heart broke for him again and again, shattered anew with each journey into the dungeons. She endured her pain in silence, unwilling to complain or despair. After all, was this not what she wanted? To continue serving her prince?
Earlier that day, while she had been carrying freshly pressed linens across the courtyard, Frigga had approached her. Suprised, she'd smiled and curtsied as best she could around the rather heavy basket.
"Good day, your majesty."
The queen nodded. "And to you." Her eyes were guarded and apprehensive, and the girl's stomach had curled back on itself. "May I speak with you?"
"Of course." After finding another maid to carry the linens into the palace, she'd rejoined Frigga in the courtyard, who had invited her to walk through the garden. For a long while, she had been quiet, her eyes fixed straight ahead. Every second that passed in silence made her stomach churn. Was something wrong? Finally, she'd cleared her throat, breaking the tension.
"What is it you wished to speak to me about, my lady?"
The queen had sighed, glancing over at her. "You've been tending to Loki for a long while."
Slowly, she had nodded, not quite understanding. "Yes."
Frigga had smiled, and the servant's discomfort eased. "I believe you are good for him, my dear. It's why I chose you to serve him in the dungeons. I can trust you, and I think..." She'd paused, choosing her words carefully. "I hope you may be able to help bring back that part of him we lost."
Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand."
Under the shade of a sprawling oak, there had been a bench, and Frigga sat, indicating that the servant should do the same. Once seated, she continued. "By now, you must be aware of the feelings Loki had for you."
Her confusion doubled. "Feelings, my queen?"
Again, that smile graced her features. "You did not know." She continued,"Loki was rather enamored with you from the beginning. It was he who requested for you to serve him personally all those years ago, and over those years, he grew quite fond of you. He said nothing because he did not believe his affections returned."
The air around her seemed to have grown rather thin as she sat, stunned by this news. She thought back to those days before Loki had gone mad with lust for power. Had there been some sign she missed? She remembered smiles, accidental brushes of his fingers across hers. Even a few light-hearted pranks played on her. Had she been a woman of noble birth, yes, it would have seemed as though Loki had feelings for her. But she was a servant, a common woman with no worth or titles to speak of. Why should someone like him want someone like her?
"I..." She swallowed. "I did not want to presume to act above my station."
"Hm." Again, those regal eyes grew cloudy. "He was always different when you were around. Happier." Frigga had turned to her, her expression grave. "I fear that the boy I loved is gone...but there may yet be hope. You may be able to bring him back."
Her heart seized, held its breath. "How," she whispered. "What could I do?"
"Tonight, I can arrange for you to go to him. I know there is some part of him that loves you still. Give yourself to him. Make him remember what it is to love another."
A pillar of granite could not have been more still than she. Her heart dropped into her stomach, which in turn twisted with dread. Frigga had seen her freeze, saw her expression go blank, and had stood, her face lined with regret and sorrow.
"Of course, the choice is yours, and you do not have to make up your mind now. I will send for you tonight, and I hope to hear your answer then."
The queen had left, and she had not moved since. Her back was stiff, her eyes tired, but she could not move; her thoughts kept her immobile. She did still hold feelings in her heart for Loki, feelings that with a little nurturing could be called love. But who he was now, that twisted, broken, corrupted shell, was not the Loki she had grown so fond of. The Loki she knew was ruined.
But could he be fixed?
Do I have the power to fix him?
As the stars continued their cold, indifferent paths above her, a young boy wearing a messenger's stole approached her, bowing slightly. "Queen Frigga has requested your presence, miss."
Her cold hands clenched, her decision made, and she stood on legs that trembled, following the boy into the palace through twisting corridors, until she found herself at the golden doors that guarded Loki's old chambers. To her knowledge, no one had been inside since his fall from the Bifrost, not even Frigga. Smiling ruefully, she touched her fingers to the runes inscribed around the doorframe, feeling the familiar tingle of Loki's magic in her fingertips.
She heard her name, turned to see the queen approaching, and dipped into a curtsy. A warm hand took hers as she encouraged her to rise. "Have you come to a decision?"
Her lungs filled with air as she took a deep breath. "I have, majesty." Her hands twisted together nervously, fingers still icy-cold. "I cannot deny that Loki frightens me. I hate to see what he has become, a monster twisted by hatred and bitterness. It wounds me to see him so. Every time I enter his cell, I mourn the young prince I once knew." Her voice shook, eyes shimmering as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Frigga was nodding sadly, as if she already knew her answer and was pained by it.
"And that is why," she continued, her back straightening, "if there is anything within me to heal him, I will give it. I cannot let him remain what he is if I have the power to fix it."
She saw Frigga smile, hope returning to her eyes. "Thank you, dear." She paused. "This means a great deal."
Before she could say anything else, Frigga took her arm, pulling her down the hallway. "Come. If you are sure about this, then we must act quickly."
An hour later, they were making their way down to the dungeons, their footsteps as silent as possible against the dusty stone. The guard's eyes flickered to them, but ducked away, and she had assumed they had been bribed or threatened to look the other way. Once inside the giant doors, Frigga laid her hand on her shoulder.
"Are you still certain about this? If you wish to change your mind-"
"No." She shook her head. "I will do this. I cannot turn away now." The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Even if I wanted to."
The queen gave her a wry smile. "I cannot thank you enough for this. I will return for you at dawn."
She nodded and filled her lungs with damp, musty air as she left, the doors closing behind her with the sound of a fate being sealed. Holding her head high, she walked down the wide corridor, grateful that the walls were made opaque at night. Her stride was long, purposeful, the graceful scissoring of her legs hidden by a long forest green cloak, the hood drawn over her head.
And then, her heart in her mouth, she reached Loki's cell. There was a flat pad on the wall, and she pressed her hand to it. Frigga had convinced the guards to make it recognize and accept her touch so she could lower the solid shields around him, revealing instead the barrier woven of powerful magic. Loki was lying awake, staring at the ceiling with his hands laced behind his head. When the shields lowered, he sat up, his brow arched curiously, those too-bright eyes widening slightly as he saw who it was.
"Well, well," he muttered, sitting up and raking back his unkempt hair. "It's a bit after hours for you, isn't it?"
"Forgive me if I disturbed you, my prince." The slight hardening of his features at the title did not escape her notice. "I've come on behalf of your mother."
Loki chuckled darkly. "They haven't told you then? Frigga is not my mother."
She knew of his heritage, of his adoption into the royal family. One more dirty secret that only the palace staff was privy to. "I know of your parentage, highness."
"Hm. You always were a nosy little creature." He rose, his movements fluid and leonine, and approached the barrier. She flinched when he came close, closer to her than he'd been in years, and he grinned down at her, seemingly pleased by her discomfort. "What's the matter, my dear? You look nervous."
Gathering her courage, she found the strength to raise her eyes to his. "If I may be honest?" He nodded tightly, and she let out a pent-up breath. "You frighten me. I see you like this, and I cannot help but think of all the innocent blood on your hands. I cannot help but to dwell upon the lives you took. It makes my heart sick." She swallowed, her lips bloodless and trembling. "I cannot bear to see you like this. Locked up like..."
"Like what?" His grin had become nothing more than a feral baring of his teeth, his lips curled in a silent snarl. "An animal? A criminal?" Loki chuckled, dark and deep. "My pet, that's what I've always been."
"I remember differently. I remember a young man full of life, full of hope. A man who would sit with his scrolls all night just to watch the sunrise." She closed her eyes against the flood of memories, realizing now just how precious they were. She gripped them tight, held them in her heart like a drowning woman clinging to floating branch, and took her first breath knowing the truth of what the queen had revealed to her. "A man who...who loved me."
His face, for a split second, went completely blank before a derisive smirk hitched up his lips, though his eyes stayed guarded. "Did Frigga tell you that," he growled. "I merely desired you, that's all."
Tipping her head up, her eyes bright and full and sincere, she let the green cloak fall from her shoulders, revealing a sheer, golden gown that clung to every curve of her body like a second skin. A thrill of triumph flickered warmly in her as she saw his eyes go dark and hazy with sudden lust, his gaze dropping to feast on the sight of her.
"And do you desire me still?"
Her voice was low, scarcely to be heard over the odd thrum that vibrated from the barrier, but his entire form stilled as if she had shouted it at him.
"Why are you here?" His voice soft, suspicious. Scared. A raw fissure cleaved her heart in two at the sound of it.
"To give you what you desire." She raised her hand, fingertips close enough to feel the slight warmth given off by the magic barrier. "Be it my body, my willing submission, or my love, freely and unconditionally. I'm here to remind you what it means to love and be loved by another."
"Is that so?" His stance was still guarded, defensive, but he smirked, shrugged, and gave a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Then by all means, my dear, come in."
Offering him a smirk of her own, she pressed her fingertips to the barrier and watched his smug expression melt into astonishment as her hand passed through unscathed, followed promptly by the rest of her. Once she was inside his cell, the shields rose once more, sealing her inside with him until morning. For a split second, she felt a flicker of panic at being trapped, but she tamped it down as Loki approached her, looking at her with stunned curiosity.
"How-?"
She held up her right hand, and around her ring finger was a band made of delicate gold, set with a stone that was not quite opal, not quite jade, but shifted in color between the two. Smiling, Loki took her hand and examined the small piece of jewelry, muttering, "Frigga. Of course."
"Before you start scheming, highness, you should know that she enchanted this so that it works only for me. If you took it from me you would still not be able to pass through the barrier."
His laugh was short, derisive, a mirthless expulsion of breath. "Clever." His eyes drifted up to hers, the color flickering as something in his gaze softened. She could almost see the memories in his eyes as he trailed his fingertips softly down her cheek. "You've changed. You're not the shy little slip of a thing I remember."
Her voice choked, she pressed her hand over his. "We've both changed."
"Yes, well." His stare darted away from hers, focusing at some point on the wall behind her. "Some of us for the better and some of us...not."
Those fingers slid over the line of her jaw, tracing slowly down her neck, and her eyes fluttered closed at their touch, her head leaning back to expose her throat to him. His body tensed, his eyes becoming hooded and dark at her response to him; the subtle shifting of her hips toward him, the slight arch of her throat against his hand, the parting of her lips as she sighed. Loki stilled, drinking in the sight of the woman he had loved since youth, the woman he had thought never to see again now standing before him and offering him a gift more precious than she knew. His fingertips grazed over her collarbones, stopping just where he could feel the beat of her heart, faster than expected.
"Be my possession tonight," he breathed.
Color blooming high on her cheeks, she nodded, wishing she had the nerve to tell him that she had always been his.
Before she could draw her next breath, his lips came crashing down on hers, his hands demanding as they dragged her against him. Her moans melted against his tongue as he slipped it into her mouth, turning to push her against the wall, every curve of her body molded firmly to his. Long fingers twisted in her hair, tugging as she nipped at his cupid's bow. Finally, Loki let the girl breathe, gaze dipping to savor the sight of her breasts rising and falling with her rapid breath. His lips quirked at the sight of her, flushed and panting from a kiss alone, and he traced the tip of his finger down the delicious line of her cleavage.
"Look at you, pet," he crooned. "I've barely touched you, and you've already begun to unravel." She shivered as he took her earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently as his hips pushed against hers, his arousal hard and unmistakable against her stomach. Breath hot on her neck, he let his fingers acquaint themselves with the swell of her breasts, laughing as she arched up into his touch. "You're going to enjoy this."
His hands fisted in the neckline of her dress, and with a sharp yank, he tore her bodice open all the way down to her navel. Breathlessly, she protested, "The queen allowed me to borrow this-"
"Then I'll send her my apologies in the morning," he growled, his head dipping down to take one hard peak in his mouth. Inwardly, she praised the architects who had designed these shields to be soundproof as she yelped, daring to cup the back of his head and hold him to her, fingers winding between the soft strands of his hair. Tongue flicked, lips pulled, his mouth bringing her body to colorful, thrumming life at first one breast, then the other. She writhed, hips undulating against his, worrying her lips with her teeth as he suckled. His hands were hard on her, almost bruising as they sank into her flesh, taking no pains to be gentle. She bit back her discomfort, silenced her whimpers, reminding herself that tonight was not for her, but for Loki. What he demanded of her, she would give without complaint or reluctance.
His hands lifted the delicate bell of her skirt, pooling it around her hips, and slid his hands under her thighs, lifting her and wrapping her legs around his waist in one fluid movement. With an animalistic growl, his tongue slid between the valley of her breasts and up to her neck, teeth latching onto the spot where her blood raced beneath her skin. Loki, still nibbling and sucking and marking her neck, lifted her from the wall and carried her over to the cot that served as his bed. Instead of the rough wool blankets given to the other prisoners, Frigga had smuggled soft furs down to him, and for that the girl was grateful as Loki laid her down on them, his weight settling atop her. With a few insistent tugs, the tattered remains of her borrowed gown fluttered to the floor, and his hand cupped her womanhood, bare of undergarments. She bucked as his fingers dipped and plunged into the pool between her legs, her tongue stuttering on the first syllable of his name.
"Lo-!"
His brow arched at the incomplete cry, his fingers curling and pumping, drawing more of her wetness out. "What was that, my dove? I didn't quite hear you." His thumb circled her clit as his fingers reached deeper, three impossibly long digits stretching her, filling her. Again, she tried to call out his name, but ingrained propriety would not allow to be so informal, even in this state. Not once had she called him by name; there was always a title in the way, separating them into master and servant.
"L-!"
Her hands clawed at the furs as Loki fluttered his fingers against a spot inside of her that made her positively shriek. "Let go, my shy little servant. Let me hear my name as you're meant to say it, on a broken moan of esctasy."
His thumb pressed down hard on her clit, a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and her legs trembled as she abruptly came, vision blurring as she finally keened out his name.
"Loki!"
"That's better," he crooned, his clothes melting off of his body in a shimmer of magic. In the stark, unforgiving light of the cell, she saw how pale he was, the shadows lying deep in his collarbones, the hollows in his eyes. For a moment, her eyes welled with tears; for all his battles and all his sorrows, for all that he bore the marks of his transgressions, he was still beautiful. As he laid himself in the cradle of her thighs, his hardness pressed searchingly to her folds, she blinked the tears away, hoping he had not noticed.
Loki lowered his lips to her ear, hips rubbing slowly against hers. "Tell me that I'm the only one to make you feel this way," he purred. "Tell me you belong to me." His hand slid beneath her hip to lift her, to press her more tightly against him. "Tell me that this," he growled, jutting his hips forward so that the head of his cock slid against her clit, "is all mine to use as I wish." Beneath his demands, she heard wavering notes of pleading, almost silent begging of acceptance.
Tell me I am not a monster.
Tell me I can be loved.
Tell me that I am not irredeemable.
Her hands cupped his face, thumbs aligned to the sharpness of his cheekbones as she lifted her hips to his. "Every inch of me is yours, Loki, if you wish to claim it. I surrender myself to you."
And claim her he did, with one powerful, fluid thrust. Their cries were a vibrantly struck chord as they were joined, the first notes of a symphony. Loki bared his teeth beside her throat, the white startling against the purple mark he'd left, the breath that carried her name raising goosebumps on her skin. With barely a moment's allowance for adjustment, he began to piston his hips in a punishing rhythm, her back rocking against the furs as she wound her legs around his waist. Being completed, being full to the seams of her soul with him hurt her heart with how wonderful it felt. This was right. He was right.
She clung fiercely to him as he pulled her upright to straddle his lap, his mouth leaving constellations of bite marks across her chest. With one hand splayed out on the bed behind him to keep them steady and the other clamped tightly to her hip, he pounded up into her, throwing his head back when she rolled her hips down to meet him.
"Yes...oh yes, that's it," he murmured against the slope of her breast. "Do that again, pet."
And she did, losing count and rhythm as they moved in synchronization, their movements as fluid and sinuous as if they'd been rehearsed. The sounds she made were as foreign to her as they were to Loki, pleasure like this a first for them both. Her head dropped to his shoulder, arms tight around his neck and her hands buried in his hair.
"Loki, oh yes, more!"
Loki growled at her demand, all feral teeth and primal sinew, and threw her back onto the bed, his hands circling her ankles and pushing her legs up, her thighs parallel to her sides. With each thrust, each powerful slam of his hips against hers, he struck something, some secret spot inside of her that made galaxies burst behind her eyes. Her body was cracking, becoming unlaced; he was breaking her apart, and she wanted nothing more than to be shattered.
As the two of them writhed and bucked, shivering despite the heat of their friction, Loki wrapped an arm around her thigh and began rubbing her clit mercilessly, swallowing her scream in a possessive kiss. The taste of her pleasure filled him, the triumph of it pooling warmly in his stomach as his orgasm wound him tight. He wanted to tell her he loved her, wanted to scream it for all of Asgard to hear, but fear choked his heart, made it cold.
Awash with sensation as she was, the poor servant girl lost all control, twisting and arching and keening and moaning his name, liking the taste and texture of it on her tongue. As the coil in her stomach wound tight, as the sound of her body beginning to fly apart became too loud, she shut her eyes, turning her head to the side. But then, oh, the gentle grip of his fingers on her chin, bringing her head back to center as his lips brushed hers, the breath expelled by his whisper all the kiss she needed.
"No. Keep your eyes on mine." Her heart about to burst, she opened them and was filled with green so deep and alive she feared it would swallow her up. A smile touched those eyes. "That's it, pet."
A snap of his hips, the insistent rubbing at her clit, and she was broken, flying, pierced to the core by pleasure that burned with the heat of a new star. Bones did not break, muscles did not tear, but still she was destroyed. The world went black for a span of seconds, and when she floated back into her body, she saw Loki lying in pieces beside her, panting and trembling and looking at her like she was made of gold. Even now, in the most vulnerable of circumstances, color still rushed to her cheeks.
"What?" She whispered, trying to cover herself, but Loki's hands caught hers.
"You're stunning like this. Lips parted and swollen, hair a mess, barely able to move." For a moment, in his eyes shone that same radiance she'd seen when he was young, but it flickered and died. "It's a pity I won't get to see this again."
She opened her mouth to assure him that he would-after all, how could she not come back to him after that?-but she closed it, realizing that he was right. Smuggling books and furs and soft robes down was one thing, but Frigga could not risk sending her more than just this once. And Loki was not going to be released this side of Ragnarok.
"Loki, I-"
"Shh." He pressed his fingers to her mouth. "Don't spoil this. Don't say your goodbyes just yet." His arm laid heavy over her middle as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Let me just be with you. Let me savor what we have left."
In his voice she heard the tattered remnants of the young man she knew, and her newly broken heart came back together as she realized that he was still in there. The man she loved, the man who had loved her, was still alive and fighting to be free. He could be saved. He could be redeemed. Her eyes met his without shame, without shyness, and she knew that he remembered. He remembered what it felt like to be loved.
In his arms, she rested. Wrapped in his embrace, she was safe and at peace. They did not sleep or even speak, but kept silent watch over each other until one of the bribed guards, shielding his eyes modestly, came to inform them that Frigga had come to collect her. Draping one of Loki's furs around her in an attempt to cover herself, she stood, stretching deliciously sore muscles. For a moment, she hesitated, looking back to see him sitting up on the bed, still gloriously naked and trying to mask the pain of their parting. Then two silent steps brought her back to him, and she kissed him with a slow-burning tenderness that made her ache anew. She poured every ounce of her love into the kiss, urging him to taste it on her tongue, to feel the warmth of it in the hand she pressed over his heart. And when at last she could linger no more, she broke away, following the blushing guard out of the prison. Frigga waited outside the doors, sunlight breaking over the horizon and painting the realm gold. She took a deep breath, and smelled apple blossoms.