Chapter Four
~Then~
Dalla and I were sprawled out lazily on the grassy slope in front of our house as children played raucously in the street below - thrilled to be out past sundown - crickets hummed in the heat, and fireflies danced around us: all trying to take advantage of one last balmy night before Autumn's chill shooed us inside.
They say that every star in our sky was born in an Asgardian's final breath; and, as countless scores of constellations swirled above us like jewels across the sky, I wondered if the whole of our history were there, staring down upon us.
"Did you see us dancing, Aelìs? Do you think he thought I was beautiful?" Dalla asked for the third time that day.
"Of course, a man would have to be blind not to."
"But do you think he really liked me? What did his face look like?"
"Yes - I don't know - you were the one looking right at him!" I'd been too busy talking to him in secret, I thought as my heart gave a thud.
"He is so much taller than I thought he'd be! And so handsome! I don't know why people call him the Prince of Lies, he was so charming…."
Such had been Dalla's dreamy chatter all day. I tried to reply, half-listening, with affirming noises, not quite being able to get my own thoughts away from our clandestine meeting. I ran it through my mind over and over again; why did he want me to confess? So he could laugh about it later? He didn't seem to be making fun of me, but… with Loki you never knew.
We heard footsteps as our father returned home from work. "Hello girls," he nodded as he passed us.
Dalla didn't notice the stiffness in his voice, or urgency in his steps, too busy prattling on about Loki as she was. "I was certain he would call upon me today. Perhaps he was busy…"
I rolled onto my side to watch my father walk up the front steps and into the house. He disappeared for a moment, before passing the doorway, my mother following close after. He cast a subconscious look in our direction before pulling her into the study and shutting the door.
"Aelìs? Did you hear anything I just said?"
I turned back, holding a finger to my lips. "Shh," leaping up into a crouch, I beckoned to her to follow.
We crept up the lawn, slipping behind the bushes under our study window. My mother and father were speaking in hushed voices.
"So soon? Just like that?" My mother asked.
My Father's shadow passed across the curtains. "What more would you require? Should I ask the All-Father that the young couple get to know each other first? We cannot refuse."
Dalla and I turned to each other with thrilled, wide-eyed faces, silently mouthing our shock.
The front door opened. "Dalla?" My mother called out across the lawn, "Can you come here a moment?"
We appeared instantly on the step. My parents were standing in the doorframe, both glanced at me with worried glances as Dalla walked past them and into the study.
"You stay here Aelìs, darling," my father patted my head, "We won't be too long."
As soon as they were out of sight, I rushed back under the window. I couldn't make out their words, but Dalla's tone was odd, not like a girl who had just been proposed to by a prince.
The study door opened and I rushed out, up the steps and through the front door; an expectant smile on my face.
But Dalla was not smiling. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, one foot raised, ready to run.
"You got what you wanted," she said in a wounded voice, before rushing up to her room and slamming the door.
The next two days were a blur. My father hurried back and forth between our home and the palace, negotiating my bride-price. My mother flittered about, calling this tailor and that stylist, every now and then pausing to cup my face in her hands and smooth my hair back to marvel, "My little girl." I was prepped and primped, measured and manicured. However, through it all, the gaping absence of my sister was difficult to ignore.
She should be here beside me, I thought. I would do the same for her.
After my Dalla's slamming door had jolted dust from the rafters, my parents ushered me into the study and sat me down. My mother held my hands with joy, my father stood before us, a solemn crease between his brows.
I was confused by their conflicting expressions. "What's wrong with Dalla? Is she ok?" I asked, refusing to jump to conclusions.
My mother's smile fell for a moment, "She'll be fine, darling. There'll be someone else for her," she patted my hand, beaming once again, "Your father wants to tell you something."
I didn't hear him the first time. It was if my brain had short-circuited. Even when I caught up I didn't believe him.
"I know it's unorthodox, giving away your youngest daughter before the eldest, but a royal proposal comes once in a lifetime. Our family will never want for anything again; your sons and daughters will prosper, and theirs in turn."
"My beautiful girl," my mother embraced me, "To think, a Fengardson married to a Prince!"
And that was that.
On the morning of the betrothal ceremony, or handsal, a small knock on my door woke me from my slumber.
It was Dalla. "It's time to get up, sleepy."
"It's still dark," I mumbled into the pillow.
"We have to prepare you for Loki," Dalla sat on my bed.
I rolled over to stretch. "You make me sound like a meal."
"How are you feeling about everything?"
I sat up. "Does this mean you've forgiven me then?"
Dalla sighed. "It was never your fault. In all the silliness I forgot to be your big sister."
With a rush of gratitude I sprang forward and hugged her.
As she laughed, I looked down at my hands. "I still don't feel like it's really happening. Do not be jealous Dalla, for I am sure this is all part of some cruel trick."
"Don't be ridiculous, Aelìs. He would never go this far."
"He could have any girl in Asgard, and he is still so young, why would he choose me to be bound to for life? And why would Odin approve it? It doesn't make sense!" Being fifteen, and naïve as I was, the fact that my father was one of the most successful defensive weapon developers in Asgard could have anything to do with it never crossed my mind.
"Because you are far more beautiful and talented than you think, and Loki can see what an amazing woman you will become. Now, let's get ready."
Dalla ran me a bath full of perfumed oils, lovingly dried my hair, and helped me dress.
"Smile girl!" My mother said on our way to the palace. I tried, but I was so nervous. I couldn't shake the feeling that this was some enormous prank at my expense.
When we arrived I was greeted by a flurry of maidens and ushered through the halls toward the inner temple. Who are these girls? I thought as they stopped before the temple and pulled me into a room off the hallway. It was a lounge, the floor strewn with velvet cushions while silk drapes hung from the eaves. They sat me down on a carved wooden chair that stood in the centre of the room.
An older girl, perhaps 19, brought a beautiful gold-wrought circlet before me.
"We bring gifts from the house of Odin to honour the Prince's betrothed," She said, before placing it on my head. One by one they brought rings, cuffs, and an elaborate necklace, all platinum and gold, studded with priceless jewels. Finally they adorned my hair with flowers. The only girl that I knew apart from my sister and mother was Igrid, who hung back, a sour look on her face, until someone scolded her and she half-heartedly joined in. I suddenly found myself able to smile.
Finally, they declared me ready and pushed me out the door. Before stepping through the threshold of the temple I stopped. "There are so many people!" I said to my mother. Odin, Frigga, Thor, Sif, the Warriors Three, Officials, Royals, and Odin's wealthy inner circle were all present. A great deal more than the handful of people that would normally attend a handsal.
She tutted, "This is Prince Loki darling, not old Hans from down the street; what did you expect?"
In the midst of the crowd, with the mountains of Asgard rising majestically behind him, my soon-to-be-betrothed stood alone. He was dressed in fine robes of gold and green, velvet and leather. I suddenly felt plain in my lavender and lace gown.
My heart was beating so fast, was this really happening? I realised I was scared: of this being a cruel joke, of what was to come if it was real. Could I keep him happy? Could I really be a Prince's wife?
"Go!" Came my mother's harsh whisper as she pushed me in the direction of the altar.
My arrival caused a murmur in the crowd and, upon hearing my name, Loki looked up. He gave a warm, slightly nervous smile, just for me. I held onto that smile, feeling all my doubts slip away as I walked down the aisle of people toward him.
Finally, I found myself before him. He held out his hand, and I placed my hand in his, as he recited his vow:
"We declare ourselves witnesses that thou, Aelìs Fengardson, bondest me in lawful betrothal, and with taking hold of hands thou promisest me the dowry and engagest to fulfill and observe the whole of the contract between us, which has been notified in the hearing of witnesses without duplicity or cunning, as a real and authorized contract."
He spoke loudly, ensuring the whole room heard his every word, with shining eyes and a proud smile. When his vow ended, the congregation clapped for a short moment, and began to move about.
We spent a moment looking at each other with shy, secret smiles, but before we could say a word hands grasped my shoulders and I was whisked away.
"Mother," I struggled, "At least allow me to bid him farewell."
She ignored me, marching me out with a gracious nod for each well-wisher.
I turned back to look at him, and his mouth was moving - 'Wait,' it looked like; but it was too late, we were already out of earshot.
And that was how the Prince and I came to be betrothed.