Loki got a later start than he intended this morning. It was well into midmorning before he was on his way to Danethar's house, but the delay had been necessary. Yesterday's conversation with Thor had shown him the error of his initial approach for this game. He'd underestimated the downstream effects his rumor would have. Apparently once someone kicked the first pebble it let loose an avalanche of opinions long held by the staff. Lesson learned; he would have to be more careful if he wanted this game to last.
So before he went to see Lilith, Loki had to make some adjustments. A quick foray among the servants gave him the opportunity to spread a different sort of rumor. One that would counterbalance the one he'd let loose yesterday. Hopefully by the time he returned to the palace, the new one would take hold. In the meantime, back to his assumed profession.
The cook was rolling out some floured dough on the counter when Loki entered through the back door. By now, she seemed accustomed to his comings and goings, so she didn't pause her work. He almost thought he could sneak upstairs without a word from the woman.
"Morning, Ilsa," he heard her say just as his foot touched the bottom stair. Loki suppressed a sigh and turned back.
"Good morning to you, Berda. Where is the Lady today?"
Now the woman did stop, dusting her hands on a nearby towel. She shook her head.
"Hasn't left her room- or the Master's. I don't know where she passed the night, but he left in a foul temper this morning."
"Isn't he always, though?"
"I think someone-" she glared at him "-has been telling tales up at the palace. He was in an uproar about it when I heard him pass through here a few hours ago."
"You think I said something."
"Not saying it is, but seems awful strange that the rumors start days after you come here. You know? Me, I know my place, but maybe you don't yet. Starting rumors might win you friends up at the palace, but all you're doing is making things worse here. It's been worse the past three days than in the month before you showed up."
He felt a twinge of guilt. Danethar's abuse wasn't the only thing that was worse lately than previously. Loki couldn't remember how long it had been since he'd felt guilty about anything, but since stepping foot in this house, the feeling had become an all too frequent plague on him. So Lilith wasn't the only one suffering.
Do you really consider one equal to the other, the voice derided him. How pathetic. Loki did what he knew best to drown it out: he lied.
"Honestly, I don't know anything about who started the rumors. I wouldn't do anything to hurt the Lady."
Berda didn't believe him one bit, judging by her expression.
"You keep telling yourself that, Ilsa. But I'll warn ya that the Master thinks you're responsible for it, and he'll be out for your blood if you keep it up. Stay out of his way or you'll find out for yourself the misery the Lady gets from him."
She went back to work, leaving him feeling more than a little uneasy. Not that Danethar could ever do anything to him. Loki had his powers to protect him, after all. But her censure and accusations about Lilith continued to scratch at his conscience. He didn't wait for that wretched inner voice to join in again and fled to the upper level. Once he saw Lilith- presumably in the same condition as always- the feeling would fade. She was probably in the garden or the music room.
Only she wasn't in the garden. Or the music room. Loki searched every public room before concluding that Berda had been right. Either Lilith was in her bedroom…or Danethar's. His hand rested hesitantly on the handle of the latter, but Loki didn't turn it. The initial curiosity of a few days ago had somehow transformed into dread. He no longer wanted to see whatever Danethar kept on the other side of the door.
Coward. Afraid you can't handle the tools used to inflict the- what did you call it?- collateral damages of your game?
Right on cue, the voice was back. Loki swallowed once and removed his hand. He refused to acknowledge any of its claims. He was just going to check the more likely room first. That's all. In the back of his mind, Loki thought he heard the echoes of mocking laughter.
The door to Lilith's room swung quietly inward, and he held his breath against a possible tirade about rude manners. As seconds passed with no sound from within, Loki realized no speech was coming. Instead of relief, the silence made him nervous. Still, all might not be as bad as he feared. Lilith could be asleep, despite the lateness of the hour. He debated whether he ought to call out through the door before going inside. Really, he needed to start acting more like the maid he was pretending to be.
You're stalling.
Of course he was, but Loki resented having it pointed out to him, and was goaded enough to get this over with. He squared his shoulders and walked through the open door.
The overturned bureau registered first, followed by the litter of personal effects strewn everywhere; they were all broken. For several minutes, he could only stare at the mess. It had been an orderly sort of place only a few days ago. Now, it looked more like the aftermath of a horrific battle. Trinkets and what he assumed were Lilith's private possessions were crushed- as if someone had deliberately ground them underfoot. Clothes had been torn from the wardrobe and shredded. The extent of the destruction had been both thorough and systematic.
Finally, he focused on what his brain hadn't wanted to see. He registered the unconscious woman sprawled amid the destruction, viciously beaten. Loki reacted without thought, crossing the room in three long strides. Kneeling beside Lilith, he checked for some sign that she was still alive. A thready and faint pulse beat beneath his fingers. She wasn't dead.
And what would you have done if she was? Would you mourn?
Loki didn't know. But right now he was in no mood to play games with himself. Lilith certainly didn't have time for it, either. She was in bad shape and needed medical help or she might actually die. He ought to teleport them to the healers in the palace for immediate care. Ought to, but couldn't. As concerned as he was for her condition, he couldn't just give up the game yet. Besides, he had skills enough to handle this himself.
First things first, he should probably get her off the floor. That would be easier if he weren't hampered by his current disguise. He weighed the risks of dropping it. Lilith was unconscious, and would be for a long while yet. So no chance she'd wake up and see him. And the cook wouldn't likely leave the kitchen, since she didn't seem to be the type to get involved or ask questions. At least not when it came to Lilith or Danethar. She seemed quite opinionated to others of her own class. Focus. With those two worries dismissed, Heimdall was his main concern. Asgard's Watchman might notice if he suddenly appeared so far away from the palace where everyone expected him to be. Loki glanced down at Lilith again.
The Hel with it. I'll deal with Heimdall if I have to.
Ilsa dissolved as he regained his true form, and he lifted Lilith to the bed. Where to start now? He'd learned to dress wounds on the battlefield and studied healing magic, but had little practical use for that knowledge up to now. Loki exhaled and began simply; assess the extent of her injuries, then sort out which ones needed attention first.
As he moved through his examination, the second half of his task seemed more and more difficult. Lacerations, fractured bones…internal bleeding. How in the nine realms was anyone supposed to live after receiving such a beating? Loki recalled Lilith's remark in the garden a few days ago. She'd hinted that Danethar might kill her for daydreaming. At the time, he'd thought she was exaggerating.
But she wasn't, was she? He's capable of it and your game might just give him enough motivation to do it.
You're not helping me with this.
Was I supposed to? You don't need my help, Prince. You don't need anyone for anything, remember?
With effort, Loki banished the voice. He had a task to complete. Internal bleeding- he needed to stop that first. Power flowed from his fingertips, which he laid over the worst of her injuries. He directed it to repair tissues and organs beneath the skin. For every second that passed, he was acutely aware that he was likely calling unwanted attention to himself. No doubt Odin put in place some kind of system to monitor him.
If he were to get away with this undetected, he'd have to work faster. Bones next. Loki kept glancing towards the door as they set and mended. To his continued surprise, no one came to stop him. Not a single alarm. Even after he'd finished cleaning up the surface wounds. Luckily, he remembered not to heal them completely. Lilith and Danethar would be suspicious if she showed no sign of injury. But at least by the time he was done, her condition seemed to be stabilizing. For a little while, he just stared at her. What should he do?
No doubt it would be at least an hour- maybe more- before she awakened. Under normal circumstances, healers would stand by to observe a patient for any residual signs of trauma or complication. This was hardly normal, and Loki couldn't afford to take any more risks than he had already. He should leave. Staying in here was only going to prolong the unpleasant feelings Loki was trying to ignore. In moments, his disguise was back in place. He was once again 'Ilsa'. He pulled the coverlet over Lilith and left the room.
Heimdall was alerted by a surge of power within Asgard. Not a large one, but enough to catch his attention. He recognized whose it was immediately- Loki. The Allfather bade him to keep an eye on what the God of Mischief was up to. Over the past few months, surprisingly little in that direction. But the sudden shift he felt told him Loki was back to his usual tricks. Now where was he? A scan of the palace found nothing. Heimdall widened the search to the streets beyond the grounds. When he finally located the god, he almost couldn't believe what he saw.
What was he doing in Danethar's home? And more importantly, what was he doing in Lilith's bedroom? At first, he worried that Loki had attacked her, although he had no idea why. Heimdall nearly raised an alarm to send Thor to rescue her, but held back one minute longer to be sure. As the events unfolded, he was glad to have waited. Far from attacking Lilith, Loki was using his power to…heal her.
This makes even less sense. What is he up to?
When Loki finished, he stared at Lilith for a long time. Heimdall couldn't be certain of it, but he swore he caught sight of an unfamiliar emotion on his face. At least unfamiliar for the God of Mischief. Concern. For some reason, he cared and worried about her. But just as quickly it appeared, the look vanished. Shortly after that, the image of Loki shifted and he changed into a servant woman.
So that explains how I didn't notice him there in the first place.
Now he had to wonder just how long Loki had been playing out his disguise. Days? Weeks? The Allfather was not going to be pleased to hear of this.
Can I tell him, though, he debated. I promised Lilith that I would ignore anything that took place in that house. But does that promise include this ruse with the God of Mischief?
Never had he felt so torn over loyalties. The situation warranted careful thought. Heimdall considered all angles, and in the end, he compromised. He'd keep his promise to Lilith insomuch as he would not alert Thor- or the Allfather. But he would send word to the Queen for a meeting. He'd suggest to her that she should take an interest in what Loki was up to lately. Frigga would know how to deal with the delicate situation without dragging the Allfather into things.
And perhaps now I've finally found a way to get Lilith out of that house, since she won't do it herself.
Several things struck me when I woke. I was on the bed, for one. Definitely not where I recalled losing consciousness last night. And secondly, my injuries were a lot less severe than they ought to be. I hurt, absolutely. But not as much as I should. Something was very much amiss here.
Well, you're not going to find out what it is from bed, are you?
Couldn't argue with that logic, so I got up. That's when I saw the state of the room. It was a total wreck. Either this had happened during the struggle, or- more likely- Danethar had trashed it after I blacked out. Nothing was spared. My only consolation was knowing that none of what he'd destroyed mattered to me. The only possession I had of any sentimental value had been my book, and it was out of his reach, thanks to Ilsa.
The clothes were annoying, though. The few decent gowns I'd had left were ripped to pieces. Nothing even to wear out to buy new ones, and I couldn't very well go around town in a sleeping gown. I glanced down at it. No, definitely not. Rust-colored stains dotted the pale lavender silk. Blood- mine, most likely. The quandary of what to do puzzled me for a while. And then I saw the tunic and leggings at the bottom of the wardrobe. Danethar must have mistaken them for rags, because they were still intact.
They'll do until I can purchase new clothes, I thought as I changed into them. I'll have to be quick, though, so Danethar doesn't catch me wearing them.
I emerged from my bedroom and immediately heard music coming from down the hall. Ilsa? She must have arrived while I was still unconscious and decided to wait there. I shrugged and made my way to the conservatory. The woman should have left, but I needed to talk to her, so it was just as well that she hadn't. Quietly, I pulled open the door and slipped inside.
Ilsa was indeed at the piano, playing a song I'd never heard before. Sad and brooding- inviting the listener to lose oneself in pensive contemplation. Although I had intended to announce my arrival, words failed me. She was so focused- so completely immersed in the music- that I couldn't spoil her concentration. Instead I watched and waited for Ilsa to finish, wondering what prompted her to choose such a somber melody.
When the piece finished, she leaned forward to cradle her head in her hands. I almost turned on my heel and left the room, not wanting to intrude on…well, whatever this was. Ilsa was not acting like anything I'd seen from her over the past few days, and it made me uneasy. Lying, scheming and irritating questions I could deal with, but if she was going to go melancholy and weepy on me, I wasn't sure I could face it.
A small noise must have betrayed my presence. Ilsa straightened at the bench and turned around. I saw nothing on her face that told me what she'd been thinking a moment ago. Almost as if I'd imagined that anything had been wrong. Perhaps if I asked her, she'd tell me what it was; perhaps she'd tell me another lie. None of my business, anyway. As someone who didn't like people asking too many questions about me, I wasn't about to go prodding into the mind of someone else without invitation.
"So you're awake," she said with a quick glance from head to toe. "And apparently out of gowns."
"Right on both counts. The latter being something I need to take care of as soon as possible."
"So…a trip to a dressmaker?"
"You sound surprised."
"I wasn't sure you would leave the house looking like…"
"Like what?" I asked irritably.
"They're going to know he beats you with the marks on your face. I thought people weren't supposed to know."
She couldn't know that the shops I frequented had no idea who I was or who I was married to. They may have noticed the occasional bruise or welt, but likely assumed I was a low-ranking Lady. If they thought I was a Lady at all. But her comment gave me a perfect opportunity for that talk I wanted to have with her.
"Somehow I don't think that will matter. I hear someone's been spreading rumors lately."
"It wasn't me," Ilsa protested immediately. "I told Berda the same thing when I got here a few hours ago. I never said anything to anyone about what goes on here."
I didn't believe a word of it.
"And you expect me to swallow that story."
"I know what it looks like, Lilith, but it's true. Do you really think I'd try to make things any worse for you?"
"Well someone sure is, and I'm looking at the most likely candidate."
"Why does it have to be me? You've got houses on both sides- occupied and fully staffed. Maybe one of them is tired of hearing screams and started talking."
Her point was one I couldn't completely discount, even though I wanted to. The neighbors hadn't interfered over the past few months, so I'd always assumed they couldn't hear what went on. But maybe they had and were just slow to take action. Ilsa must have seen that her argument was beginning to sway my opinion.
"You see? Any one of them could have just as easily said something, not knowing like I do what would happen when the rumor got back to Danethar."
I had to shut her up before I lost all sense of my convictions. No matter how plausible her theories might be, I knew deep down that she'd been the one to start the rumors. Not the neighbors. Not their servants. Ilsa. Whether motivated by ambition or just because she didn't have the sense to know when to keep quiet…didn't matter. But maybe now she was starting to realize the seriousness of the consequences and was trying to place the blame elsewhere. The almost desperate tone of her voice suggested that might be the case.
Can't finish the game now that you know the stakes, Ilsa? Well, I wish you luck in your lies. We both know what you did and what is going to come of it.
In the end, I didn't care if she wanted to pretend she had nothing to do with this. It just wasn't worth the effort.
"I'll grant you that, but your logic won't work on Danethar, I promise you. So if the rumors can't be stopped- by you or whoever else may have started them- then I suggest you stay out of his way. Indefinitely."
"What about you," Ilsa asked quietly. "I saw what he did- how will you stay out of his way if the rumors don't stop?"
"Storms blow over eventually," I replied just as softly. "Now come on- let's get going before it gets any later."
I didn't wait for her to answer me, and walked out into the hallway. Ilsa dogged my footsteps, albeit reluctantly. Whatever her strange mood today, I wasn't of a mind to ask her about it or placate her. If I could make do with my lot in life, she could make do with hers.
Frigga received Heimdall's message and found time to see him during the afternoon. After their meeting just the other day, she suspected he'd seen another gateway fluctuation. At least that's what she hoped he'd called her to the Bifrost to discuss. Every time he sent her a note these past months, she feared he would tell her Loki was caught trying to escape to Midgard. Or worse, that he'd tried to let something loose in Asgard.
Heimdall was waiting patiently for her when she arrived. She didn't see anyone else present- not even Sif. That should be comforting, but Frigga couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding as she sat on the chair he provided for her.
"My Queen, I thank you for coming," he began.
"No need to thank me, Heimdall. I am always happy to lend my assistance where I can. What have you seen that requires attention?"
Heimdall must have felt her apprehension, and shook his head.
"Nothing so grim to worry you, my Queen. Have no fear."
"But important, none-the-less."
"Well…yes. I saw something unusual today and felt I should inform you of it."
As she thought, he'd seen another fluctuation. Maybe this time he'd caught its source.
"A possible gateway in the warrior's quarter of the city again?"
"Noooo…nothing like that." The man actually fidgeted in the pause before he continued, but Heimdall pushed on before she could point it out. "Have you spoken with the God of Mischief lately- about how he's been occupying his days?"
The worry returned. Loki was indeed up to something and Heimdall had seen it this time. Frigga wondered why he didn't just tell her what it was, though. Why all this subterfuge? She thought back to recent conversations with her son.
"A few days ago he said he'd been spending time in the palace gardens. And Thor found him there again yesterday evening. Why?"
"Perhaps you should inquire a little more into his whereabouts during the day."
"Have you seen something?"
"I may have."
His continued reticence was becoming frustrating. Frigga frowned at him.
"Is there some reason you can't tell me what it is?"
Asgard's Watchman closed his eyes briefly, almost as if in pain. She almost regretted having been so sharp with him, but did not apologize. He took a deep, steadying breath and reopened them.
"Yes, but I swear to you the secrets I keep are not a threat to Asgard."
"May I inquire as to whose secrets they are?"
"Alas, my Queen, I cannot tell you that, either. If not for the discovery that Loki has become involved, I would not have put either of us in such an awkward situation by sending for you."
"Why send for anyone at all, then, if you can explain so little?"
"Because I believe some good may come out of what I've seen, but not without help."
"Specifically my help, you mean. Why not his brother or my husband?"
"My Queen," he replied with a wry smile. "In many ways, a Lady is more adept at ferreting out information. Especially in situations that call for a more subtle approach."
Meaning he didn't want to Thor or Odin to back Loki into a corner with an open confrontation. I'm guessing if that happened, whatever outcome Heimdall is hoping for won't come to pass. What could my son possibly be up to that would merit his approval?
Frigga set those thoughts aside and nodded.
"Thank you, Heimdall. I will be sure to look into this matter- carefully, of course- and unravel this mystery. Please keep me informed if his actions become a threat to the safety of Asgard."
"I will, my Queen."
Their meeting ended, she left the Bifrost and headed back to the palace. This evening, she'd call Loki in for a chat- just the two of them. Frigga had been intending to, anyway, so Heimdall had merely provided her with the proper motivation to see it through. And from what he'd hinted, the meeting could prove to be an interesting one.
