A/N - As always, thanks to my readers and reviewers and followers. Your feedback is what makes writing worth it, so please continue! Let me know how you like it...good or bad, input is always welcome.
To answer a few questions:
Kagoq is pronounced "kay gock". It's an Icelandic name (slightly modified) that just fit the character. Other characters already introduced (such as Asrior and Valtur) and those yet to be introduced have names that I spent a great deal of time researching. They are often drawn from old Norse names and usually have a meaning that fits their role in the story. Later on, I'll expand a bit more, including the awesome meaning of Asrior's name.
Also, it might be a while before Loki's eyes are opened regarding Asrior-who she really is and the life she has led with her father. Despite his 'reformation' and reconciliation with his family, he remains 1) quick tempered 2) extremely impulsive, and 3) still rather arrogant. As the blurb for the fic says, he will act out on his convictions before he really gets that he still has a lot to learn.
He'll learn...but it won't happen right away, which is too bad for Asrior in the short term.
In the long term, well...maybe it gets better. Really better :).
I probably will update once per week...though if I have a spurt of productivity combined with free time, that could increase to every four to five days or so. The story is very well plotted out, but sometimes putting actions to paper (or computer screen) takes time.
If you have questions or want to see me talk/complain/gush about how the fic is proceeding, I'm on tumblr at tigermcqueen (dot thingie) tumbler (dot thingie) com
Thanks to guineamania for being beta.
And, really, thanks for reading. This chapter's a wee bit shorter. I really and truly hope you enjoy it (and let me know what you think!).
Chapter 3-Persuasion
Life in the mining villages was as different from her life with her father as day was from night, and Asrior took great solace there. Though mountains were higher than the hills she'd lived in as a child, the land reminded her much of her birthplace. Small cottages dotted the land around the villages, and everything was green and flowering under a golden sun. Her days passed quietly, each the same as before; she would help her landlady, Geror, with housework, trying to learn as she did so, and then venture into the villages to buy things needed for the house.
It was much of what she dreamed of for the future with Kagoq.
During her trips to the villages, she listened for talk of the king's men; and early on, she'd discovered that a large group of those soldiers had left shortly before her arrival. It was also said they came and went on a regular basis and should be back soon. Based on the information she'd overheard in the city, she'd guessed that Kagoq was routinely moved from place to place. Asrior decided to wait for his return.
The stay would not be unbearable given the growing contentment she was starting to feel.
The emotion did not happen quickly, and sometimes she still was taken over by apprehension. Valtur would not stop searching for her, and though the metal-filled mountains was supposed to drive dark elves away, Asrior still wore the iron medallion and carried the crude iron weapon she'd hastily fashioned before leaving the city.
But afternoons spent sitting and thinking by the lake calmed her, and she'd spent some of her precious coin on the local cloth; Geror had sewn a dress for her, a simple and lose one that did not rub against her scars. Asrior burnt the one she'd arrived in as soon as she was able.
And while she mourned the loss of her mother's gold chain, the only tangible connection she had of her, Asrior told herself that the sacrifice had been worth it. She was free of pain and endless fear, free of the armor and that despised dark land, and she lived without constant risk of retribution. She began to think her plans might somehow work.
For the first time in near memory, she felt something close to happiness.
….
"Really, this is absurd," Asrior muttered under her breath, turning the page of her book. "No one would put up with such if they had a choice."
She leaned further into the tree she sat against, and when the constant breeze whipped strands of her hair into her eyes, impatiently pushed them away as she read. Every once in a while, she would tut under her breath when one of the book's characters did something illogical, and when she could take no more, she scowled and threw the book upon the grass next to her in frustration.
"Wretched story."
The sudden snap of a twig behind her had her whipping her head around and pulling the hood up, even as a satin-tinged voice said, "No book, no matter how wretched, deserves such ill treatment."
Shock overtook her at the distinctive sound of Loki Laufeyson's voice, and instinct propelled her to swiftly gather her bag and rise, ready to run.
But he was standing between her and the path to the cottage. Worse, he led a giant horse by the reins, a sight which had Asrior stepping backwards compulsively, so that her slippers sank into the sandy dirt that led from the grass to the lake's edge.
A gust of wind began to push the hood from her hair, and her hand went up to hold it down. But her efforts were futile, for a swath of hair still fell over a shoulder and strands that escaped the hood were blowing in her face.
She tried to hide her panic, though the hand that held her bag was clenched so tightly that her knuckles ached, and her blue gaze darted, frantic, from Loki to the path to the horse and then back again. She willed her face to stay calm, and her heart beat so loudly in her ears that she thought the god standing in front of her must surely hear it.
But the God of Mischief and Lies was watching her with mild expectation as he waited for her to speak.
Asrior managed to croak, "I can assure you that this book is an exception. It is revolting." And as she looked from him to the horse again, it crossed her mind that she could throw her bag at him if it came to it, and her crude iron knife was in her pocket, too.
The look on his face was turning from polite curiosity to recognition, though, and he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing before he exclaimed, "Wait a minute… I know you. You're Valtur's daughter. You're the one from Svartalfheim who went missing from court, aren't you?"
The hand holding the bag lifted slightly, and though a part of her wanted to snap that she was more of Asgard than that other vile realm, her lips pressed together and she took another step backward.
But he was saying, "I have to say, it's been a long time since I have seen my brother so out of sorts." He sounded amused, and the look he gave her was that of fellow conspirator. "Your father is in a fine lather as well. Whatever your game, you have managed to do me a great service in the process."
He was moving forward, and Asrior, alarmed, cried out, "I do not want to go back."
Loki stopped moving, and the laughter in his eyes turned to confusion. "What was that?"
Her hand moved to her pocket where the knife lay, though she realized her weapons would be futile. He seemed to tower above her with an awful, graceful strength evident in the ease with which he handled the unpleasant beast beside him. But she lifted her chin in defiance. "I did not mean for anyone to find me here. I will not go back. You cannot make me."
She must have sounded desperate, for he put a hand up, as though warding her off, and began to step backwards himself.
"I didn't plan on it," he said, his voice soft. "I was just…entertained…at the trouble you caused. Such games were my specialty once."
"I do not play games," she said, and taking a deep breath, pressed on, accusing, "You do not trust my father."
"No. I do not," the god admitted, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "He gives me little reason to."
"Then you do not trust me, either." Her fingers wrapped around the iron weapon in her pocket despite its uselessness.
He pursed his lips, as though thinking. "No. I suppose I don't."
Asrior stiffened her back. "Then I should not trust you."
His lips tilted upward and a laugh escaped his lips, and, shaking his head, he confessed, "I wouldn't, if I were you." She was about to draw her knife out her pocket when he continued, "But I'm not going to take you back to the city, if that's what you're so anxious about."
Disbelieving, she challenged, "But I cause trouble for your brother."
He lifted a shoulder. "I am not adverse to my brother's overbearing sense of confidence being tested."
"But I have heard the talk about my father. Surely you think me in league with him and will want to…"
"You put too much stock in your importance." The green-eyes that gazed at her turned scornful as he sneered, "You are no danger to Asgard. If anything, your disappearance has accomplished what I failed to do, convince my brother to strengthen the lower countries. If you heard talk of your father, then you know that your kind has long wreaked havoc in these lands—but now, finally, Thor has allowed more of our warriors to patrol the lands as your father's guards search for you. For that, I must thank you."
Loki bowed exaggeratedly, his green cape falling over the golden armor encasing his shoulders as he did so.
Asrior simply stood there, for her stomach was suddenly at her feet. More king's men along with dark elves on the roads meant that it was unsafe to leave the area, despite the danger that Loki posed; and at some point, the hand holding her hood fell to her side so that her hair blew loose, and blood-red strands blurred her vision.
Loki spoke again, and boredom had crept into his voice. "There is no need to continue on this track. I have my own concerns to deal with while I am here, and I will not waste my time playing helpmaid to my brother or your father. Do not bother me with your exaggerated fears."
She shoved the hair from her face, noticing that he was looking into the distance, his expression remote, as though thoughts from faraway invaded his mind.
Asrior's eyes were still wary as she demanded, "What do you do here that is so important, then?"
His green eyes snapped to her, his lips thinning. He had taken offence at her impudence in questioning his activities, but instead of the harsh words she expected, he offered a test instead. "I'll tell you if you tell me. What do you do here, elf?"
She just stared at him, her mouth clamped shut, and after a moment, his face relaxed a little.
He nodded, as though they had reached an agreement. "I'll be on my way." But before he could move, Loki's eyes landed on the book she had thrown to the ground. Bending, he picked it up and looked at the spine, smirking at the book's title.
"You do not strike me as the romantical type." He sounded amused again.
"It was the last book the grocer's wife in Trond had," Asrior defended, her cheeks growing hot. "I have borrowed books from her since I arrived and have gone through them all. I told you it was repugnant."
He handed it back to her, saying, "Even so, you should not abuse it such. Everything, no matter how vile you may think it, has worth in someone's eyes. The grocer's wife enjoyed it, did she not? "
And then he moved, leading his horse to the path toward Sollstrand, giving her one last sardonic glance as he left.
Despite his assurances, Asrior spent the next two days in a constant state of worry. Her near-contented state faded with the specter of capture looming over her. She could not trust Loki and waited for him to appear any minute with a cadre of soldiers to take her back to the city; and when she managed to convince herself that her presence was insignificant to him, she worried that the king's men who watched the dark elves would make their way to the mines and discover her.
Asrior still went into the villages, keeping her hair braided tightly so no more strands could escape the hood, and she listened for gossip of soldiers returning to the fortress in Sollstrand or of news of a search for a dark elf.
But all she heard was rumblings of Loki's arrival. The villagers were rife with speculation that he was in the area to pay court to a well-connected goddess whose palace lay to the east; many thought he sought to extend his rule over the lower countries through an advantageous marriage.
She stopped reading at the lake, though, worried that the god would trap her again; but on the third day, when men in the village were exclaiming about the horse Loki had ridden out on that morning as he headed to the goddess's palace, she decided that it was safe to return for a short time.
It had been only a few days since she'd sat under the tree, but the sight of it filled her with release, and Asrior almost ran, eager to sink under its branches. She dropped her bag onto the grass as she got there, but before she could turn and sit, a glint of gold against one of the roots that jutted from the trunk and toward the lake stilled her.
Bending, she picked up a small book bound in green leather and read the gilt lettering on the cover.
Kringla's Travels
Asrior gingerly opened the book, and though she was startled when a slip of paper began to slide out of it, she managed to grasp it before it fell to the ground. A sloping, elegant scrawl covered the paper, and her eyes widened as she read.
I do not think you will not find these tales distasteful.
And if I am wrong, refrain from abusing the book. It is worthy to me.
Slowly, she turned and slid down the trunk to sit upon the grass, looking around as though expecting to see the God of Mischief and Lies watching her. She was alone, though, and after a moment, Asrior turned to the first chapter and began to read.
He was right. The stories of the ancient warrior Kringla's exploration of the Asgardian continent were engrossing. The surprise and apprehension Asrior felt when she found the book faded, and she stayed buried in the pages for so long that when she looked up, the sun was much lower in the sky.
"Damn," she muttered, gathering her items. She had not meant to stay so late out of fear that Loki would return to the lake, and when she began up the path to Geror's cottage, she looked around, afraid he would appear from thin air.
She stayed up late, reading under the light of a small torch, and the next day, after hearing word that Loki had again left to visit the castle to the east, she returned to the lake. There she finished the book, and began to reread the tales, though she kept a better eye on the time.
When the following day revealed little news of the god's movements, Asrior went to her spot to leave the book against the tree roots with a note of her own inside.
Thank you.
Upon her return to the lake the following afternoon, Asrior was not surprised to see that another book had taken its place. This time, there was no note.
….
Over a week passed, in which time she inhaled the second book and two others. The routine stayed the same; she would finish a book and leave it in the crook of the tree's roots, and the next day, another would appear.
After a while, the wordless interaction began nag at her. Asrior could not help but wonder when the god would make the exchange. Did he ride the path every day? Did he take that route to the road east to visit the goddess he courted? Did he watch for her, avoiding her spot when she was there?
And why in Odin's honored name did he leave the books for her at all?
One afternoon, after leaving her spot by the lake, she walked to the cottage and then backtracked, hiding in a copse of trees; she could see her spot there, and she waited to see if the god would appear. When the sun set with no sign of him, she left, telling herself she was being stupid.
But that did not stop her from rising at dawn the next morning and heading back toward the lake, telling Geror that she would be back later to help around the cottage.
Asrior sat for an hour, clutching the book she planned to return to him, and when she heard the sound of a horse's hooves, her heart flew into her throat.
Be brave, she thought, and she stood and turned to watch as Loki emerged from the path that came from Sollstrand.
He saw her almost immediately, but she could not see his face well enough to know if he was surprised or not at her appearance there. He dismounted from his horse and tied the beast's reins to a tree branch on the other side of the clearing, and he took his time walking to where she stood. His face was guarded.
She tried to think of something to say as he neared, but the god spoke first.
"I was under the impression you wanted to be left alone."
Her limbs felt funny as her nerves began to jangle, but she did not turn away when she spoke, nor did any tension show in her voice. "I do not want to be discovered, but you already know I am here." He just looked at her, so she pushed on, "I wanted to thank you. For the books."
"But you've already done so." He brushed aside her gratitude, and though something flickered in his eyes, he did not say anymore.
Not knowing what else to say, Asrior thrust the book she'd just finished at him. "Well, thank you again."
He took it and lifted a shoulder. "You're welcome." Then, when she just stared at him, he looked back at his horse. "I expect you'd like another one."
Annoyed at him and the conversation, she frowned, saying, "You really don't have to bother. You've been very kind, but I do not expect anything from you." She began to walk toward the path that led to the cottage. "I should be…"
"Wait." A hand on her arm stopped her, and when she looked up, she saw that Loki's face had transformed. Instead of the closed expression he'd worn, he now looked highly entertained as he said, "I don't think anyone has ever described me as 'kind' before."
The pressure of his hand against her arm was bothersome, and Asrior's tongue, which so often got her in trouble with Valtur, got away from her. "Probably because such an act is so rare at your hands."
Her body automatically tensed, and she immediately wanted to take the words back. But instead of growing angry, the god laughed and dropped his hand. Humor colored his voice as he said, "You are right about that. And I'm not really being kind now."
"You don't have to let me borrow your books," she pointed out, her voice matter of fact. "And you leave me alone."
"Yes, but the thought of anyone reading The Passions of Aphrodite and Mars out of lack of proper reading material offends me. And you're not the only one who wants to be left alone." He sounded almost friendly, and he again glanced at his horse, saying, "Allow me get you another book."
She nodded, and he gave her something close to a real smile before walking toward his horse. The animal shook its head at the god's approach, and Asrior watched with a sick fascination at his ease with it; he spoke lowly, a hand resting on the beast's neck, calming it, and then reached for a bag that hung behind the horse's saddle and dug inside.
When he turned to walk back, Asrior noticed that he did not wear his usual armor. Though still dressed in gold and green, his clothes were more formal, like the high lords at court wore. And his hair was shorter, slicked back from his face in a more careful style than he'd worn in the city.
He had the same look as the men who had courted her in hopes of gaining her hand in marriage, and she thought he must be on his way to see the goddess that lived in the palace to the east.
"Take this one," he said, holding out a thin brown book. "I hope you like poetry."
Her hand went out to take it automatically, despite her growing discomfort. She was treading on very dangerous territory, talking to him for so long. He was the God of Lies and not to be trusted.
"I should be going," she began, giving in to her disquiet. "You will want to be on your way."
Asrior began to walk past him again, and this time Loki let her go, though his words surprised her. "Actually, I was stopping here for a while." She stopped and turned to look at him. "I understand why you like this spot. One can hear themselves think here."
He was fixing the velvet of his shirtsleeve as he spoke, something like a shadow crossing his face, and it was clear his thoughts were on something removed from their conversation. The urge to ask him what vexed him surprised her, and Asrior frowned at the feeling and turned back toward the cottage.
She did not thank him again, offering only a vague sound of agreement as she left.
Talking to him did nothing to settle her thoughts, and for the next few days, Asrior left the cottage only for her daily trips to the villages, where tongues waged of Loki's movements and little else.
She even saw him once, riding his horse through the Sollstrand. A woman rode beside him, encased in silk the color of the sky and her hair the color of the sun. Asrior shrank deeper into her cloak as she watched them, her eyes lingering on the blonde's carefree expression.
Loki, though, looked menacing on his giant steed, his face impassive as he led the goddess from the village.
That afternoon, she stopped at the tree, lingering only enough to place the thin brown book of poetry on its roots. She was no longer filled with dread of discovery, but a vague uneasiness remained her constant companion. And the sight that met her the following day when she stopped by the tree to pick up her next book only intensified her feelings.
There was nothing there.
The book that she'd left on the roots was gone, but Loki had not left another in its place.
Asrior looked around, wondering if he'd left a note of explanation. But the grass held only a stray, flowering weed. She wondered if she had done something to offend him. She thought that perhaps Loki had left the village. Perhaps the goddess he courted had accepted his suit and his time was taken with new tasks now.
The feeling of unrest turned into something she could not place, and she turned, ready to run back to the cottage.
And then she noticed someone walking on the path from Sollstrand, and when she realized that it was Loki that approached on foot, the mixture of relief that filled her at the sight of him shocked her.
The god lifted a hand when he noticed her, and his steps quickened. Asrior, confused at her reaction, forced her face into its usual calm mask.
"Were you surprised there wasn't a book waiting?" He asked as he neared, but he didn't wait to hear her answer, moving past her instead to go to the tree. And he turned and slid down to sit, much as she usually did. "I meant to be here earlier, but I was delayed."
His voice was surly, and she shrugged as though it was of no concern. When she didn't move, he gave her an impatient look. "Aren't you going to sit down?"
Asrior sank gingerly into a seated position several feet away from him, and she watched as he began to open up a sack he carried.
"You did not ride this way this morning?" she asked finally, her own voice tense.
"No. I had…a free day, you might say."
He was frowning into the bag he was searching; and then she noticed that he pulled food from it and was placing it onto the grass.
"What is that?" Her brow knit, and the look he gave her was as disbelieving as his words were scathing.
"I thought you were somewhat intelligent. It's food."
"I can see that," she said stiffly. "But…"
"Food…" he continued, not listening to her, "and this."
He thrust a thick book covered again in green leather and gilt toward her, and it was heavy in her hands when she took it.
"This will take weeks to read," she muttered, opening it. It was a compilation of short stories from each of the nine realms.
Loki did not look up from his tasks as he mocked. "That's the idea." He began to lay bread and fruit on a cream colored cloth he took from the bag. "I grow weary acting as your walking library."
Something inside of her twisted at his words, and she glared at him, her voice growing hot. "You are the one who chose to leave these here." And she dropped the green-bound book onto the grass. "Take it. I told you before that I do not expect anything from y…"
"Are all elves as quick to take offense as you?" He spoke over her, and he lifted his head, staring at her as though she was an irascible child.
"You expect me to sit here and smile at your rudeness as though it is your due?" She could barely keep her voice from shaking, for anger was swiftly taking over her confusion at his mood. "And why do you persist in calling me that? My mother was of Asgard, and I was ra…" she stormed, but he ignored her, muttering under his breath, "Yes, Loki, all elves are like me. Ill-tempered, thin-skinned, disrespectful and ungrateful little…"
She began to stand, blood rushing to her face. "If that is what you think of me, then I will le…"
"Sit down!"
Her eyes widened at the force of the words, and he suddenly looked every inch the powerful, vengeful, dangerous god she had heard tales of. She was frightened, and the instinct to hide from him was great; but she sat upon the grass and locked her defiant blue eyes with his icy ones, refusing to look away.
Loki was visibly irate, but after a moment he took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, as though to control his temper. When he spoke again, he seemed to choose his words with great care.
"Asrior, if we are to talk at all, you must get accustomed to my pestering. It is the manner in which I sometimes speak."
The sound of her name on his lips startled her, though she supposed he had heard it often as her father railed over her disappearance from court; but she kept her face clear of emotion as she asked, "You wish to talk to me? It did not strike me as such just now."
He sighed and handed her an apple. Asrior took it, still wary, and as she took a bite, he said, "For days now, I have been subjected to nonstop, frivolous chatter. It is utterly exhausting, and it has had an ill effect on my mood."
Her face remained impassive, but her voice spoke volumes. "Really? I could not tell."
Loki threw her a disgruntled look. "I thought I might speak to you, as you seem to have a modicum of intelligence." He began to tear apart a loaf of bread, muttering, "But if you would rather be offended…
"What do you wish to talk about?" She asked, and though her back was still rigid and her voice cool, it was a peace offering. He looked almost grateful as he grouched, "Anything. So long as it's not gossip about court. Or ill-concealed bids for compliments about your beauty. Or what color gown you plan to wear next—because I do not know the difference between azure and cerulean blue, and even if I did, I do not give a damn how you look in it."
Asrior, who owned the one dress Geror had made and who washed it carefully every night before laying it by the fire to dry as she slept, almost allowed a dry smile to break through her severe demeanor. "I think I can manage that."
And so she began talking about the book of poems she'd just finished reading, her comments and questions stilted at first. But Loki was possessed of an extremely keen mind, and he answered her questions assuredly and asked deft ones in return, and soon, both of their sour moods began to ease.
The god sat back against the trunk of the tree as they talked, the breeze blowing one stray strand of his pitch-black hair against his fair skin. Asrior noticed that he dressed more casually that day. He wore neither his formal clothes or armor, but rather a simple tunic and leather pants. He looked relaxed, but his hands would flex at times, causing the muscle and cord in his wrists to tighten in such a way that she knew the powerful being she'd glimpsed earlier was thinly veiled by his outward appearance of serenity.
Even so, she forgot to be afraid of him at some point, and though they spoke only of the books she had been reading, the time flew by quickly.
The sun was sinking by the time she noticed, and when saw the look on her face, he too turned to the horizon and cursed under his breath.
His words were soft but heartfelt, and before she could think, Asrior asked, "You do not have another free day tomorrow?"
"No, tomorrow I again attend the Lady Hallerna." It was as though he spoke to himself, and he was staring at the fading sun in that way he had when his mind was far away.
Asiror's hands suddenly felt restless, and she picked imaginary crumbs from her skirt. "Oh. Yes. The goddess you pay court to."
Loki snapped back to the present, his brow vaulting upward at her words. "And what do you know about that?"
The silk in his voice was wrapped around steel now, and seeking to appease any ill will, she explained hastily, "Nothing, not really. But the villagers talk. They can see that you visit her often."
He grunted.
Taking the sound for agreement, she babbled, "I have seen her in Sollstrand. She is quite beautiful."
She tried not to dwell on the goddess, for the feelings she inspired made Asrior feel ashamed.
After abandoning her childish prayers to the gods, Asrior had faced her circumstances with pragmatism. She understood that she was the scarred, bastard daughter of Valtur the Unmerciful, and if she were lucky enough to escape his control, all she desired was a safe place to live out her days with Kagoq. Such a life was more than enough, and to ask for anything more would be greedy.
She did not like the bitterness she felt over the goddess's comfortable life or her physical perfection. Or her resentment over the fact that that the woman's likely future, filled with so much more than mere security, was something Asrior did not dare hope for.
Loki was making a scoffing sound under his breath, and he was looking at her as though she were simple-minded. "So? Asgard is filled with beautiful women."
"Then why do you court her, if it is such a chore?" she probed, hating herself for asking.
And though he frowned at her, he asked a question in return rather than berate her.
"Why did the men who paid you court do so?"
"For gold," she answered, her blue eyes meeting his without shame. "But you are a prince of the realm. Surely you are not in need of a fortune to sustain your way of life."
"No, I do not require a fortune, yet one in my position is at the mercy of other considerations." His face was like stone. "Duty, my dear elf, is seldom pleasant. I find that I do not like having my hand forced out of political expediency."
"So, it is the circumstances you dislike, not the goddess," she said, looking at her lap. "If that is the…"
He muttered darkly, "Neither are ideal."
"But why do you feel forced? The king did not marry for political purposes."
"Did he not? He forged bonds with Midgard with his marriage, or so he says. As king, he has the freedom to make such folly as to unite with such an insignificant realm." Then Loki was looking at her as though he suddenly realized their conversation had become personal. He began to gather up the remaining food and said, "And I have pledged my loyalty to him, and to the lands that I rule, and I will do what must be done."
Asrior understood that the subject, and her part in it, had been dismissed. She stood, picking up the new book from the spot where she had thrown it earlier, not knowing what to say next.
Loki, who had pushed himself to standing, gave her a considering look and professed, "You can be impertinent, but you do not babble."
He no doubt considered the words a compliment, but Asrior could not help her response. "And I thought you were supposed to have a silver tongue."
He laughed under his breath, his lips tilting as he regarded her. Asrior, for her part, kept her eyes locked with his, though it was difficult from her position. The god towered above her at close range.
"Yes," he said, and nodded as though he had made a decision.
"I should be on my way, my lord," she said, dropping her gaze after a moment. "It grows late."
Before she could turn from him, he said, "Do not leave just yet." And when she lifted her eyes back to his, he continued, "I find that my mood is much improved. I wish to talk to you again."
His words were imperious, an order; but something about his eyes spoke of isolation. It was unbelievable to think of, but Asrior wondered if the god before her was lonely.
The look she gave him, however, was suspicious, and he scoffed, "I merely wish to talk to someone who is not a fool. Even if it is an elf of Svartalfheim."
Biting back a harsh retort, Asrior simply looked at him. She was well aware that he thought her insignificant—but she had enjoyed the conversation as well.
Loki was watching her as she debated his wish, and it was obvious he strained to keep a look of patience about him the longer the seconds passed.
"I will talk to you again, my lord," she conceded, finally making a decision.
In the following days, the god would appear sometimes when she read by the lake. Always, their talk stayed on safe subjects. She seldom mentioned the meager, peace-filled life she led outside of their conversations, and she never spoke of Kagoq; and he never mentioned his reason for being in the villages. The closest glimpse she got of his courtship was when he'd leave with instructions about his next return, sometimes announcing he would be back the next day, sometimes days after.
She wondered what he did when he was not around.
Asrior was not sure when something changed, but at one point, their conversations began to alter. They began to talk less, sitting together to watch the water in silence instead. Sometimes she would point out the creatures around them—birds flocking toward the mountains, the little toads that hopped from the lake. He would stretch on the grass as though asleep, and when she'd stop talking, would open his eyes to command, "Keep going. It is restful when you speak."
Loki convinced her to take the hood from her hair, pointing out that his presence would attract the most attention should they be caught unawares, giving her time to pull it up. And when the days grew warmer, she removed the cloak altogether when he was around, not bothering to indulge in self-consciousness over the single, simple dress she always wore.
And then one day, as the god was sprawled on the grass beside her, a Peryton wandered from the woods on the other side of the clearing and approached the lake. Its antlers dipped low as it began to drink, and the brownish-green pelt that eased seamlessly into the bright blue feathers of its wings glittered in the sunlight.
Asrior, who had only read about such animals in books, put her hand on his arm and whispered, "Loki…look."
Her gaze was on the graceful creature at the water's edge, but she felt his arm grow rigid; and realizing that she had touched Loki of Asgard, prince of the realm, without permission and had used his given name in the process, she withdrew her hand, her head whipping around in horror.
But he was watching the Peryton, something that looked like triumph flashing briefly in his eyes.
"Have you never seen one before?" he asked, guessing correctly.
She shook her head, breathing a silent sigh of relief that she had not offended him before looking back at the animal. It was still drinking, either unaware or unconcerned over their presence. Beside her, Loki moved to sitting, and he leaned onto an arm so that he bent toward her.
"When we were children, we would sometimes visit a small palace near the Sea of Marmora, where it was narrow, with mountains on the other side; and it was said that Perytons lived there. Thor and I would order servants to take us over in hunt of them until Odin discovered what we were about and forbid it."
"Why did he do so?" she asked, her voice hushed; and she willed her hands to remain still, for she was greatly tempted to rub the spot on her neck was tingling at the sensation of his voice in her ear.
"It is against Asgardian law to kill such a creature," he explained. "And I suppose Odin did not want his son cast into a dungeon."
He sounded bitter, and though she wondered about it, she instead asked, "So what did you do when it was forbidden?"
"Went across the sea our own, of course." His voice warmed with the memory. "If he could not slay it, Thor was determined to capture one at the very least, and I was determined to save my brother from the inevitable consequences of his actions."
"Did you manage to capture one of them?" she asked, tearing her eyes away from the winged creature to look at the god beside her.
"Thor managed to corner one in the crevice of a cliff near the other shoreline. Perytons are extremely strong creatures, and they do not like to be backed into corners." His eyes caught hers as he smirked at the memory, and his voice held a laugh when he added, "What's worse, their mothers do not like it when their offspring backed into corners. I think that was the first time my brother was thankful that I was one to—as he would so often remind me—'play at tricks and illusions'. We were saved when I conjured a thick fog that suddenly overcame the area. A fog that was, um…too thick, actually. Recall, I said the sea was narrow, but our boat floundered for days before we could see our way back home."
Her eyes grew wide. "Did no one grow alarmed at your absence?"
"Odin kept an eye on us, no doubt. I suppose he wanted us to learn from our mistakes." Loki's face was more serious, and he had turned to watch the Peryton, which was moving away from the water.
It was a dangerous conversation, one filled with risks, but it had been years since Asrior had spoken such with anyone. She could not help from asking, "And what did you learn from your mistakes?"
"Not nearly enough." His face closed at that, and he leaned away from her, as though to end the conversation. But when he spoke again, his words surprised her. "When I am not at court, I am usually at Okershall, an old castle in Ringsfjord, which is central to the lands I rule. There are many Perytons in the forests there, along with a host of other creatures."
Warmth filled her, for Asrior understood that Loki was allowing their conversation to stray beyond the safety of books, even if talk of himself was forbidden.
"I have heard that Habrok's dwell in that country," she said, her voice soft. "Can you tell me about them?"
He spoke at great length about the creatures that lived in his lands, and the sun was once again low when she left for Geror's cottage; Loki returned for five days after, each time allowing the subjects to range beyond their previous restrictions, though he refrained from speaking of personal experiences.
But at the end of the fifth day, as she prepared to depart, he announced, "I will return in nine days."
Asrior ignored the fact that her stomach dropped and though she almost asked what drew him away for such length of time, she nodded instead. His next words surprised her, though, for he was never one to volunteer information.
"I must return to the City of Asgard. I have a legal matter that must be settled there."
He was going to have the marriage settlement drawn up.
The fact that such a thought at the news was her first one alarmed her, for she should be concerned about his venturing to the city where her father probably still dwelled. Talking to him was dangerous. She was becoming too comfortable with his presence, too sure that her peaceful existence in the villages would continue. She should find a way to put an end to their meetings.
"Aren't you concerned that I will turn you in?" he asked, smirking. "Shouldn't you be throwing accusations at me right now?"
Keeping her face composed, Asrior answered, "Why? I should wait until you leave and then leave myself were I so concerned."
"But you aren't going to leave, are you?"
"No." She looked him in the eyes at the quietly spoken question. He looked almost lighthearted. She wondered if the goddess Hellerna's acceptance of his suit was what put him in such a talkative mood the past few days. "I'm not leaving. Not yet."
"Why?"
Because I have to wait for Kagoq, and leaving without knowing where he might be is unthinkable.
She said instead, "I trust that you will not tell anyone that I am here."
"I won't," he said, his smile spreading so that he looked almost wicked. "Do you trust me beyond that?"
Asrior moved to walk past him as she muttered, "I would rather not say, my lord."
He put a hand on her arm again, and when she stopped, waiting for him to speak, Loki moved his hand so that he touched her cheek, lightly, with his fingertips.
Neither spoke. The god was regarding her thoughtfully, his pale green eyes moving slowly over her face; and though her stomach clenched under such close scrutiny, Asrior would not allow herself to look away. She was Birgitta's daughter. She was brave.
After a heartbeat more, dropped his hand, finally saying, "You called me by my given name once."
It wasn't a question.
Embarrassed, she began, "It was a slip of the tongue. I would not dare presume to be so forward with a prince of Asgard. Surely you know…"
"Asrior, if there is one thing I like about you, it is that you do no blabber. Stop."
She clamped her mouth shut and glared at him instead, for she had only been trying to apologize.
Loki grinned. "That's more like it."
"Do you require anything else of me?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"I will allow you to use my name." He said it as though he was granting her a great favor.
Asrior knew that his condescension should bother her, but she also understood that Loki was raised as the son of Odin, the Allfather. She was the bastard daughter of an enemy, belonging to a people responsible for many deaths—including his mother's. It was a wonder he even spoke to her given the contempt he held for her race.
And he did not turn her over to Valtur.
"Then I will do so." She dipped her head slightly in deference at his grant. "Loki."
But when she turned to walk up the path to the cottage, she told herself that he was dangerous, and though she believed that he would not tell anyone where she was, the instinct to hide from him overcame her again. She hoped that Kagoq would arrive back in Sollstrand when he was gone so that she could get him and they could find another place to live, far away where none knew them.
She hoped that the Lady Hellerna insisted upon removing to the city when the marriage agreement was signed.
She knew that whatever happened first—her leaving or his—that she would miss Loki when he was gone.
….
The nine days passed slowly, and Asrior spent much of them by the lake, looking over the water, toward the fortress and wishing desperately that Kagoq would return again so the two could make some kind of escape. It never crossed her mind exactly how she would get the dwarf away from the soldiers that guarded him, she simply knew that she must do so.
She had sacrificed too much not to succeed; and she knew that if she were caught by her father that her punishment would be severe. She would survive, but Valtur would not take care to keep the scars hidden this time. And he would take her back to Svartalfheim and lock her away and never allow her to return to the realm of her birth.
Asrior was desperate not to let that happen; she had endured too much, including the sacrifice of Birgitta's gold chain. To fail would be as painful as her father's cursed whip.
For the first time since her first few days in the villages, she let her mind drift back to her mother; and when she visited her, she sought wisdom for what came next. She had to find a way to get to Kagoq, and she could not let Loki's friendship—if it could even be called that—distract her from her plans.
So when she saw him waiting at the tree upon his return, she steeled herself, for she would tell him that the meeting would be their last.
Loki watched her approach with a careful look on his face. She wondered why looked so guarded, but when he spoke, it was with his usual high-handedness.
"You are late."
Arching a brow at his accusing tone, Asrior said, "I did not realize I was to be here at a specific time. And I do not have to come at all, if I choose not to."
"You choose?" His lips turned down, and his eyes grew hard as he jeered, "Do you think I make requests, elf? I am a prince of Asgard, and though I might clothe my words in civility, do not mistake that I expect to be obeyed."
Stung, she snapped, "You are the one so fond of reminding me that I am of Svartalfheim. You are not my prince."
Loki growled, his look so dark it should have frightened her; but instead of fear, Asrior's heart felt heavy. He sounded like her father when he spoke as such. She did not understand his mood, unless he knew she had grown too attached to their meetings and sought to push her away.
Her voice was barely a whisper when she asked, "Why do you talking such? I respect your position in this realm, and I do not seek to disrespect you."
He looked at her with exasperation, the anger in his eyes slowly fading. His voice was wry when he finally said, "For someone who does not seek to show disrespect, you have an awfully forward way of speaking, Asrior. And I told you, you must humor my moods."
"I do not think my offense was unfair; but I sometimes speak too sharply. I apologize." Her words were measured, and for a moment, she thought to tell him how her tongue had caused so many of her father's beatings. But her mouth refused to open as the words reached her lips, and frustration filled her at the curse Valtur had placed upon her. She finally managed, "The habit gets me into trouble."
The god seemed not to notice the odd pause as she tried to speak, snorting instead and muttering, "I can imagine."
No. You cannot, she thought, but instead gently pointed out, "You were rather impolite yourself."
"But I am tired," he offered, without apology. "I am not always pleasant to be around in that state." And then he sighed. "Please. Sit with me."
She bowed her head and sat, her hands held primly on her lap, her back stiff as she watched him.
Loki leaned back against the tree after he lowered himself to the grass and began to dig in his bag. "You are still angry." He looked up at her, his voice dry. "Maybe this will improve your mood."
Asrior watched as he pulled out a large book bound in purple silk and trimmed in gold and silver thread.
"I brought this back for you," he said, handing it to her. "I hope you like it."
She traced the rich material of the cover with her fingertips, reading the title, Aluar Nottson's Illustrated Field Guide to the Creatures of Asgardia. And when she opened the book to find richly colored drawings of birds and sea creatures and wood animal, she breathed, "It's beautiful. But I have not finished the short stories you gave me."
"This is a gift. It is for you to keep."
For a moment, it was as though the ground beneath her tilted, and the rush of emotions Asrior felt at his words was as surprising as it was strong.
"Why?" she asked, her voice a whisper, and she did not dare look up from the book. She had been a child the last time she had been given a gift—a brightly colored jewel box from her mother. It had been decorated with painted flowers and birds and stars, and it had not been homemade. She did not know how Birgitta had managed to buy it, but Asrior kept her most precious keepsakes in it—bird feathers, dried flowers, and a picture her mother had drawn of Sif. She did not know what had happened to it, for the men who took her to Valtur had not allowed her to go back for anything when they took her, despite her pleas.
"I do not think I will be back after today," Loki said, sounding solemn. "Hallerna has indicated that she will accept me as a husband. Her courtiers look over the contract as we speak."
It was what she wanted, Asrior told herself. What she had wished for. Yet her stomach fell at the words.
"Then I offer my felicitations," she said, keeping her voice even, and when she raised her eyes to him, her face was composed.
He grunted and began to play with his shirt sleeve, mumbling, "I will need them."
"If the married couples I saw at court are any indication, you will rarely be expected to see her. You can pretend things were as they were before," she pointed out, closing the book and holding it to her chest.
"But I will not be at court." He was scowling. '"I will be in Ringsfjord.I have been away from the lower countries for too long and they demand attention. I cannot pretend there, as I will be constantly attended to by my wife. And I cannot sneak off to talk to stray elves once I am so connected."
"Then I suggest you start to learn the difference between azure and cerulean blue," she said, her voice overly sweet, suddenly annoyed.
Loki's eyes widened. "Are you mocking me?"
Biting her lips to avoid saying worse, Asrior shook her head and admitted, "I suppose I regret that we will not talk again."
"Duty. Such an unpleasant thing." A half-smile touched his thin lips at that, and his voice was wry. "I did not look forward to it when I arrived here, but I have enjoyed talking to you, much to my surprise. My time here was almost bearable."
A mixture of emotions warred within her—annoyance at his half-compliments, gladness at talking to him again, melancholy at his departure—and Asrior knew she had to leave before she allowed her carefully controlled demeanor to crack.
So she stood, still cradling the book in her arms. "Thank you for this. I will take great care of it." And then, taking a breath to steel herself, she pointed out something she had dared not say before. "For one who says he enjoys the sight of his brother in distress, you are very loyal to him in actions."
"Do not romanticize my actions. I plan to wed as much for my goals as his. This is altogether a deliberate, well-reasoned act." He stood himself, and his gaze was far way again. "Even when I sought to wed someone for less dispassionate reasons, I was aware that some considerations trumped emotion."
Surprise laced her voice. "You sought to wed before?"
"Mmmmm, once," he nodded curtly, snapping back to the present. "A lady of Ringsfjord. But she wed another, and now Thor has tied me to her country for some purpose of his own."
Asrior tried not to think of the woman he once thought to wed who lived in Ringsfjord, or of Hallerna, who would marry him and live with him there. Such thoughts made her wistful, and she did not have time to indulge in such foolish emotions.
"I hope this time it works better," she said, allowing the smallest of smiles. "Goodbye, Loki." And when she turned and walked away, he did not stop her.
She did not expect to see him again.
