"Send her to me," the king ordered.
Of course, the guard's reply came, "Yes, my lord."
As he waited for his personal servant, one of many, Loki, King and Ruler of Earth sat on the edge of his enormous bed, his face hidden as his raven head rested in his hands. Once again, he could not sleep.
This was a frequent reoccurring problem. Oftentimes, he would settle down for the night only to feel restless. At least, this is what many of the servants were told, that the king grew restless at night. But in truth, it was anxiousness he felt, that and—though he would never admit it—fear. Loki felt a deep fear, echoes of the past mixed with visions of the future, both of them filled with loneliness and consuming power.
On nights like this, oftentimes he would send for his maid-servant, Sophie, and he would amuse himself with her until he fell asleep. Many servants thought that he would merely bed her then send her on her way, but he did not. The young girl was above that in his eyes; he reserved the whoring for the concubines and those girls with low enough self-esteem to sell themselves to him in hopes of reward, protection, or romantic favor. All of these he scorned, though not without playing their game first.
But Sophie… Ah, Sophie was different. Of course, he would tease her, toy with her, prod her a bit, but only ever just enough to make her uncomfortable. Then his game would be up. He had no appetite of that kind for her. No, she was far too interesting to be used as nothing more than a pleasure-full release.
As the massive door to his room was opened and a young girl in a pale blue cotton gown slipped into the room, Loki immediately rose up and assumed a more commanding stature. He didn't wish for the maid to know of his anxiety. Contrary to his belief, however, she did know. And she had compassion for him because of it.
Closing the door and turning towards her king, she kept her eyes customarily low and curtsied daintily.
"You sent for me, my lord?" She asked.
"Yes," he answered, strolling closer to her. "Lift your eyes, my dear." She did as she was told and he abruptly reached out and pulled her against him by the waist. She let out an involuntary squeak of surprise. "Let us dance," he chuckled at her wide eyes.
"But there is no music, sire."
"Sing to me of dancing," he commanded. He paused as she darted her eyes to the side, presumably searching for a song. "Can you do that, maid?"
"Yes, I believe so, my lord. A slow song, sire?"
"That could be agreeable, relatively slow," he smiled as he already had her hand gathered in his and began to sway.
"The best things happen while you're dancing.
Things that you would not do at home come naturally on the floor.
For dancing, soon becomes romancing,
When you hold a girl in your arms that you've never held before."
Deciding to tease her a bit, he drew her close and lay the side of his face against hers. His warm breath ghosted over her ear. He expected her to squirm or flinch away slightly, but he was quite surprised as she giggled softly before continuing to sing:
"Even guys with two left feet, come out alright if the girl is sweet;
If by chance their cheeks should meet while dancing.
Proving that the best things happen while you dance."
As she finished, but they danced on, she inquired, "Have you heard this song before, my lord?"
"No, my dear, I have not. Sing it again."
"Very well, sire."
As she sang it at his request, she wondered at how tightly he seemed to be clinging to her. It was almost as if she were his teddy after a nightmare. When the song was again concluded, he loosened his grip on her and stepped away.
"Did you truly bring me here to ask me to dance, my lord?" She asked with a knowing smile.
"Don't be ridiculous, girl," he scoffed.
"Then for what purpose have you summoned me, if I might be so bold as to ask?"
He turned to her with a sly smile. "Perhaps I've finally decided to invite you into my bed."
She was hardly disquieted in the slightest. "Or perhaps you've brought me to you in regards to a more common complaint than an empty bed."
His features fell a bit and he nodded grimly as he turned away once more. "Perhaps."
He sat on the edge of his bed.
"Have you seen the court physician?" She inquired, forgetting usual formality and his title as she came and knelt as his feet. Her stance, though on her knees, did not betray any submission, but merely concern. "He could likely prescribe a relaxing draught for you."
"And risk getting poisoned?" He tutted. "No."
"Why did you take him on if you do not intend to allow him to treat you?" She asked softly.
He narrowed his fierce eyes and gently tapped her lips with a forefinger while he tightly held her chin in his other hand.
"Sophie, Sophie," he scolded. He only used her name when a punishment was eminent. "You are becoming informal again before your king. You know better."
"I'm sorry, my lord. Please forgive me."
"Hmm, perhaps," he answered, releasing her face and moving back from the edge of the bed. "Come sit here."
Although a bit hesitantly, she did as she was bid. As he moved towards her after she had settled herself on the mattress, she flinched ever so slightly. She had never been in the same bed with him before. He settled his head in her lap and she breathed in relief.
"Sing to me," he murmured, closing his eyes.
She gazed at his weary face for a moment. He sounded so tired, so sad, so alone. She felt a flash of pity for the poor man. Perhaps "Rest Now, my Warrior" was not the best choice.
"May I select a more appropriate song than the usual, my lord?"
He opened his eyes and looked up at her in surprise.
"Are you raising your preference above mine, my dearest Sophie?" He asked a bit dangerously.
Her eyes were soft.
"No, sire. I'm not. I want you to rest and I think this song I have in mind would do you good to hear. If you do not like it, then I will sing the other."
"Very well, humor your womanly intuition and soothe me," he chuckled.
"As you wish."
"When I'm worried and I can't sleep,
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings.
When my bankroll is getting small,
I think of when I had none at all,
And I fall asleep counting my blessings."
There was something unusually soft and tender about her voice tonight. So much so that it caused Loki to gaze up at his maid in wonder for a moment, curious as to why she sounded so loving. She was looking away from him as she sang this first part, but then she turned her blue eyes back down and, seeing his eyes upon her, she did the unthinkable: she smiled kindly.
"I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads,
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds."
It was here that she did something she had never dared to do before except on request. Gentle, stroking fingers were lifted to his soft black hair. They seemed so comforting. Continuing to stroke his head, she gazed directly down into his eyes.
"If you're worried and you can't sleep,
Just count your blessings instead of sheep,
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings."
Her fingers moved to the side of his face and she lovingly held onto his far cheek as her other hand tended to his raven hair.
"When you're anxious as you can be,
Please have faith and call for me,
And we'll fall asleep counting our blessings.
If you're worried and you can't sleep,
Just count you blessings instead of sheep,
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings."
An unexpected hand was laid caressingly against her face as she gazed down into her king's eyes. He moved to sit up and turned towards her.
"My king?" She inquired uncertainly.
"Oh, Sophie," he said softly. Taking her face in his hand, he brought his lips dangerously close to hers and held them there. "Are you falling in love with me?"
"I always and never will, my lord," she answered cryptically. Yet, he somehow knew what she meant. "I wish I could, but I know you would cast me aside."
Unpredictably tender and genuine-seeming, his mouth met hers. They simply kissed. There was no passion, nor lust, nor heat except for that in the girl's cheeks. She had just allowed herself to press her own lips against his, when he pulled away.
"I'm not so sure," he teased.
"Lay down your head, your highness. You must rest."
"And you aim to take care of me, do you?" He asked, amused as he complied.
"Yes, I do," she stated boldly. "And I will do so whether you wish it or not," she leaned down to his forehead and kissed it, "my king."
"Oh, do you now?" He asked challengingly. "What makes you think I'll allow such insolence?"
Suddenly, he sat up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down into the warm blankets with him. She let out a small surprised shriek and he chuckled as he held onto her tightly, burying his face into her sweet-smelling loose mane of bronze. He could feel her quick breaths as she fell completely still, afraid that he was about to go beyond teasing.
"My dear, I'll let you help me, but only because I see no other servant better qualified." His voice had lowered into a growl. "And if you do love me, then I am well pleased and I might be persuaded to keep you."
"I'm afraid I would disappoint you, my lord," she whispered. "I am not merely a warm body nor someone to offer you comfort and I refuse to be cheaply won, though I am but a servant."
"This is precisely why I would keep you," he whispered into her ear.
"You sound as though you're tempting me. I am also not one to be seduced by anything but marriage."
"I care not for the qualifications, I will do whatever it takes to win you."
"Ah, so now you're desperate, are you, my lord?" She laughed softly.
"No," he answered very quickly. "I merely see something I want."
He was obviously lying, though he hid it very well.
"I see," she smiled. "I see." There was a pause. "Sire? What do you wish of me? To stay? To sing? To leave?"
His arms wrapped around her tighter and he rested his head against her.
"Stay," he commanded. "And call me Loki, just once, and tell me you love me… I… I would like to hear you say so."
Her eyes turned even more gentle at this request and she tried to loosen his grip.
"May I turn around, my lord?"
"NO!" He answered with a painfully tight squeeze of his arms around her. "No, stay like this." His voice was almost brittle.
"As you wish," she answered then leaned her head back against him. Savoring the singular taste of the word, she took her time saying his name. "I will obey you, because I love you… Loki."
"Ah," he sighed almost too softly to hear. "My Sophie, only mine Sophie… sleep now. Let us sleep now."
"As you wish, my king."