Chapter Text

At night it I woke, roused by a sudden cold, with which my gown and blanket could not compete. Ugh. My fingers were like little stumps of ice.
Though I didn't really want to, but I had to go back to the palace. Where in the worlds did that coldness come from?
With my blanket wrapped around my shoulders, tugged closely to my body, I started to find my way through the dark. Suddenly, I heard leaves ruffle in the shadows, and fear gripped my heart. Where my actually eyes could barely see a thing, my mind's eye showed me pictured of horrific monsters lurking in the dark.
My feet started to move quickly, taking me away from where I thought the sound had come from.
'Ahh!' I let out a frightened scream, not able to help myself. At the same time someone let out a pained grunt, shoved me into a tree and dug something sharp into my neck.
Then, as I was breathing heavily, the moon seemed to glow brighter, and my eyes could make out the face of the younger prince. His jaw was clenched in pain.
'Prince Loki, highness, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!'
The prince's eyes scanned my face and body, no doubt checking for weapons.
'May I see your hands?' he asked softly but urgently. I put them up, slowly.
He waited for some more seconds before releasing me. His facial expression didn't change much.
'You should let someone take care of that wound, your highness,' I said, without really thinking.
'What did you say?' He frowned at me. 'How did you know?'
Dazed I stuttered, 'I, I don't know.'
The prince leaned in closer, his eyes darkening.
'How did you know?' He repeated, threateningly.
'I don't know.' I replied again, my stomach twisting inside me.
He kept his eyes fixed, and I felt even more frozen than when he had pinned me against the tree with the dagger.
'I swear, your majesty, I just sensed it. It is a magical wound, isn't it?'
The prince looked thoughtful, while his fingers wandered to his side, softly pressing.
'I suppose it is, that would explain why it will not heal.'
'Did you let a healer look at it, majesty?'
Now the prince shook his head in utter disgust. 'My healing abilities do not demand their concern.'
'I do think this one does,' I said carefully. 'If you would let me, I could maybe offer some help.'
His green eyes glittered dangerously at me mentioning "help". I knew many had perished under his keen eyes, but wouldn't let myself be intimidated; I had seen real dangers. His brow furrowed slightly. Then he seemed to consider the circumstances.
'Are you one of Asgard's servant maidens?' He demanded.
'I am.'
'Therefore you can take an oath on Odin's staff, and your loyalty, an oath of secrecy?'
My body stiffened, telling me to run from this dangerous decision. But I had done too much running in my life.
'I can, and I will- If you would want me to.'
His face changed. Surprise flickered across his face. He hadn't thought I would that for him, I realised. But why, then, had he asked? To scare me away?
He let me go, his eyes distant.
Suddenly, he started walking back, and tripping I followed his long strides. My blanket followed like a cape, fluttering on the wind.

The prince immediately ventured to his own chambers, which were of almost impossible beauty. A bit hesitantly I remained in the doorway. My eyes were drinking in the surroundings; the silver, gold, pearls, gemstones, paintings, soft carpets and the dark wood.
'If you just came here to admire the chambers, you may go,' the prince sneered.
'I am sorry, your majesty.' I hastily shut the door behind me, and approached the prince.
He had taken his dagger, and looked me straight in the eyes.
'I do not ask you to do this.' The prince's eyes locked me, his tone solemnly. His expression was hard and cold, but I could sense some vulnerability underneath that mask.
What did I have to lose? I wondered. How would swearing an oath to one of the allfather's sons be such a terrible decision? He needed help, even if he was too stubborn to see.
'Then I will do it out of my own free will.'
'So be it'
He held up his hand, and without hesitation, I gave him mine. Withe sharp tip of the dagger, he carved runes into my skin. Blood welled up, colouring the symbols bright crimson.
Next, he did the same with his own hand, though the runes were slightly different. Intrigued, almost mesmerized by the strange curled and lines, I studied my hand. Then he grabbed my hand tightly, slightly pressing his palm against mine.
Concentrated, he started to chant.
I didn't understand the words; they were spoken in the ancient tongue of Asgard, the language of magic. Therefore, it surprised me that the prince didn't hesitate or needed assistance from written words. Then I remembered the rumours about his magic, some saying his powers were even greater than the Queen's.
When he told me to, I repeated after him. I knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do; using divine words I didn't even know, but I had made up my mind. Desperately, but made up it was.
While he was speaking, the runes started to glow with a brilliant green light. My head began to spin, like a giant's hands were twisting my brain inside my skull.
Suddenly golden ropes appeared around our entangled hands. It pulled tighter, and it burned. Was this supposed to happen? I looked up at the prince and met his surprised eyes. Probably not.
The ropes tightened even further, heating our hands, until they pressed too tight. Abruptly they burned into my skin. All overwhelming blackness followed.

Confused and dizzy I found myself lying on the carpeted floor of the royal chambers. As soon as I realised what happened, I scrambled up. The prince had succeeded in remaining upright, though only by stumbling backwards and grasping the solid desk. His eyes were a little off, and he seemed even paler than usual.
Uneven I walked towards him, stopping a couple times to steady myself.
'Majesty?'
'Stay there!' he hissed, gesturing that I should keep my distance. His green eyes were glaring at me, flickering. 'What did you do?'
'I didn't- That wasn't me! I sw-'
'Don't!' He rudely interrupted me. 'You have sworn too many oaths already!'
I nodded and swallowed. 'I am sorry. Maybe I mispronounced something?'
The prince squinted his eyes. 'What? No, you only failed to mention you have Magic in your blood.'
'Magic?' I stammered. 'I didn't know…'
The prince shook his head, and waved me away. 'You may go.' I lowered my head. I had messed this up. I shouldn't make this any worse. I was almost at the doors, when I heard a crashing sound behind me; the prince had tried to move, but his feet had given away beneath him, and he had fallen against the desk.
'Majesty!' I called out, running towards him. I reached out to support him-
'Do not move!' My body froze. Not because I wanted it too - I couldn't do anything else.
His arms were shaking, and he dragged himself along his furniture, until he lowered himself on the bed. One hand he pressed against his side. When he looked up again, he frowned. Some of the hostility was driven away by his astonishment.
'What are you doing?'
'I-I can't move, your highness.' And I truly tried. But I couldn't move my body. The control over my own body had been taken from me, replaced by the sensation of limbs made of clay, lain to dry in the burning sun.
'Oh,' realisation struck. Something of an amused smile formed, maybe even a bit pleased. 'That is interesting.'
Agitation arose, though mostly annoyance at myself; why couldn't I hate him? Why did I still feel so compassionate towards him?

Again I tried to move, and my face contorted. Even though I felt like dried clay, my mind's efforts to control my own body felt like ripping them apart.
'You may move.'
I gasped when I regained the control of my body. Because I had still been struggling, I now lost my balance, and had to make a swirling movement to stay afoot.
The prince chuckled-and winced. He grabbed his side.
'Am I still allowed to help you, majesty?'
He muttered something under his breath, but winced again. 'If you must.'
This time he let me approach him.
'Highness,' I said shyly, 'could you please pull up your shirt?' He did so, revealing what was quite a deep gash, surrounded by deep purple skin.
'Still eager to "help"?' the prince asked mockingly.
I didn't answer him, as I was too distracted by memories.
'It has been some time since I saw such a wound,' I muttered, only to myself, 'but wounds don't really change over time, do they…?'
Maybe the prince understood I wasn't really talking to him – or he just ignored me – whatever the case, he kept quiet.
I found my way to the bathroom, and got all the herbs and medicine I needed and knew from the herbal cabinet.
First I sprinkled some ice water from one of the purity springs, to make sure the wound was clean. Even though this part must sting, the prince held still.
Next I used a variation of herbs to create a healing mixture, which I applied before bandaging. When I was done, I stood there awkwardly, before I curtseyed and left him. My mind had stopped spinning, yet it had been replaced by a strange tugging sensation.
When I returned to bed, I looked at the small lines on my hand. I didn't know much about secrecy oaths, but this I knew, wasn't part of it.

Loki tried to read, but it didn't work out. Finally, he threw it through his chamber.
He studied his hand. This weren't traces of a simple secret-binding spell. These were runes he remembered seeing, he only couldn't remember their meaning.
He had to know what had happened. Had it been the blue-eyed girl? She had seemed so innocent, though she had resisted his glare, even though no one wanted to look him in the eyes. Asgard knew many enemies; she could have many ulterior motives. How coincidental had their meeting been?