So this chapter mostly deals with the fallout from the last, but it also sets up a few things and characters that are going to be major plot points for Loki and Reader not too far down the line. Thank you to Sybill for reviewing; I'm glad to hear that the last chapter came as a surprise, and I hope you enjoy this one!
No warnings needed, and happy reading!


"I don't understand," Odin says, "how could this happen so close to the palace?"

You stare down at the floor with stray tears wetting your cheeks, hands clenched tightly. Lorelai's blood still stains them, and you can feel the blood on your dress hardening. Frigga's arm is around your shoulders as she tries to comfort you. She stares worriedly as the Allfather grills the guard who found you. "Were the gates shut?"

"All but the main gate, Sire."

"And the guards were at their posts?"

"Yes Sire - Halfdan and Bragi were on duty."

"Then how," Odin thunders, "has this happened? Have my soldiers suddenly lost their wits?"

The man rushes to answer, but it's clear he has no true ideas about the situation. "Forgive me Sire-"

"Father."

The sound of Loki's voice makes you raise your head. He pauses in his stride to take in the scene; Odin shouting at a frazzled soldier, Frigga sat on a chaise beside you, who iswearing a cloak and covered in blood. A strange look takes over his face at the sight of you, and he steps towards you when Odin speaks again. "Loki, finally, I see someone has had the foresight to fetch you-" he glowers at the einherjar, who shifts uncomfortably- "perhaps you can make some sense of what in the Norns is going on?"

"Then is someone going to tell me-"

"Lorelai's dead," you say before anyone can rush to explain the situation. Your voice is steadier than you'd expected. "Someone murdered her."

"Who?" Odin demands, looking back at the Einherjar again.

"Uh - a lady of the court, Sire, I believe..."

Loki is looking at you closely, and you see his gaze move over the state of your appearance again. He says nothing, but looks to Odin. "Father." He gestures for the soldier to leave, and the man wastes no time in marching from the room.

Odin turns to him angrily, "I was in the middle of-"

"I need to know what's going on!" Loki exclaims. "Now will someone please tell me what we know?"

"Very well! Your wife went for a midnight stroll, and somehow ended up witnessing a murder on your very doorstep! Some woman was stabbed to death right under our noses!"

There's a buzzing in your ears. "She wasn't some woman," you say, "she was my friend." Frigga's hand squeezes your shoulder.

"That's worse!" Odin thunders. "Someone close to the royal family was murdered on our watch!" He glances quickly towards Frigga, and you can see worry in his face. "Double the guards; especially around the royal quarters. And Loki, look at the state of your garrison."

Loki's eyes widen. "My garrison?" he growls. "As you keep reminding me Father, they're your soldiers - if anyone's to blame for their ill-training it's you."

"What?" Odin hisses.

"Odin," Frigga warns.

You tune out the sound of their bickering, staring at your hands again. You want to wash them instantly, wash the reminder of what had just happened away. Not even an hour had passed since you'd found Lorelai, but already it seems fake - like a dream, a sordid nightmare. You can feel yourself tremble a little and you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"...were you doing out there?"

The silence that answers the Allfather makes it clear that his question is directed to you - again you glance up at his disapproving face. "I went to see her."

"At midnight?" he sneers. "An odd time for conversation don't you think?" You lower your eyes again. You can feel the weight of Loki's stare on you, and it unnerves you more than Odin. "Why can't you control your wife, Loki?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well I can only assume that you had no idea that the Queen of Asgard has been wandering the palace grounds at midnight..."

"It's not his fault," you say, but neither of them are listening to you.

Loki's voice is rising. "That's neither here nor there! Someone has been murdered, and you're too busy scolding me to let me deal with the situation-"

"I will deal with the situation!"

Frigga's voice intercedes, "Odin!"

"No, I am king, and I will! It is my duty to-"

"It is your duty to listen to your Father! Or have you forgotten that I have taken you in and given you everything..."

"I do listen to you!"

You wince as their shouting grows; now they stand almost nose to nose, Odin burning red with indignation and Loki pale with rage. Beside you, Frigga is tense, her hold on you loosening as she tries to keep them both in check. Suddenly there is a strange cry; a gasp, and as you look up Odin staggers back, a hand on his chest. Loki stops speaking, suddenly alarmed, "Father?"

There's a crash as Odin falls gracelessly to the ground - Frigga jumps up and flies to his side instantly, as does Loki. "Odin?" She questions worriedly, her hand in his.

The Allfather suddenly seems much older; he gasps shallowly on the floor, clutching her. "Frigga... I need..." he wheezes. Loki shouts for a healer, kneeling at his mother's side.

Standing slowly, you watch them in silence. Perhaps you ought to go over and offer help, run and fetch Eir, but as you look at Odin's weak face you feel nothing. Morbidly, a small part of you hopes he will die, that he'll surrender to being old and finally leave you in peace. "What's wrong with him?" you ask.

"He's not well," Frigga whispers in distress. She leans over her husband fretfully, trying to comfort him, "I told you Odin, you need to rest..."

"Mother," Loki begins, but is interrupted by the loud arrival of a party of healers. They swarm around, checking the Allfather's and vision and muttering abruptly, before directing him onto a stretcher.

"Be careful," Eir says as he's lifted. As Odin is carried from the room, she stops Frigga with a hand, turning to Loki. "He needs to rest," she warns, looking at Frigga. "As I told him before, he's not as young as he once was; he cannot keep doing this."

Frigga's voice is upset, "I know, I tell him all the time, but he doesn't listen..."

"You must make him," Eir tells her. Their conversation devolves into hushed whispering, and you frown, stepping closer to try and hear. Then Eir straightens and marches out after her charge, the Allmother hurrying close behind her. Loki begins to follow then pauses, hovering in the doorway.

You stand and look at each other, and you can tell he's wrestling with what to do, where to go, who to follow. "Are you alright?" he asks. You nod, and he glances after his mother and father. "Do you need me to-"

"Go, Loki," you say tiredly. He waits a moment longer, before guilt crosses his face and he leaves you.

Now alone, silence falls as Loki's footsteps die away. You look at your hands once more and then slowly make your way to your chamber. Odin's voice echoes through your mind over and over. Some woman? Your only friend, who had been nothing but loyal and who had suffered for it, considered merely as some woman? It makes you sick with anger.

When you finally arrive, you place the hairs carefully into your jewellery box before washing your hands methodically and running a hot bath. As water fills the huge tub, you tiptoe to where Magni lies and check on him. You want to touch his little head, hold him close and not let go, but he's sleeping peacefully and you won't wake him. So instead you press a tiny kiss to his satiny cheek and retreat back to the bathroom.

It's a relief to get the dress off; it sticks and peels to your legs, leaving traces of blood, and you kick it into a corner. Sinking into the water, you scrub every inch of your flesh until it's tinged pink and the bathwater is cloudy. There's blood in your hair too - how did it get there? You wash your hair with sweet-smelling oils, anything to try and wash away the gory memory of Lorelai, lying dying in your arms. When you're finished you watch the water drain away.

The nights are growing too cold for silks - you pull on a soft velvet robe, the colour of a summer plum, and comb your hair. On the way out, you grab the discarded gown.

You know you won't sleep yet. So you go to your lounge, where the fire is low in the hearth. Kneeling on the floor, you prod it until gentle flames are coaxed from the coals. When they've grown into a crackling inferno, you toss the dress onto it.

Settling back onto your lounge, you curl your feet under yourself and watch as it shrivels and smokes as the bright flames lick the fabric away to dust. It's soothing; but under the heaviness of the shock which leaves you paralysed, there is anger. Thor's death had shaken you to your core, upended your world and left you grieving - but Lorelai's death sparks something deep inside you.

Perhaps it had been because you had witnessed it, or perhaps you'd simply had enough of death. Whatever the reason, you're sick of sitting, sick of waiting, and fury boils inside you. Rising, you fetch the box and open it, and take out the hairs to study them closely.

They are long and fine - so fine that you cannot properly make out their exact colour, other than that they are pale. You wonder if Lorelai had fought her attacker, or if it had simply been fate that the murderer had left this tiny trace in her grasp. You mull it over. Haldir was brown-haired, and he was the only other person who had known that she would be there. Asgard had no shortage of fair-headed citizens. Perhaps if you went through the lists of the guards who were on duty...

A gentle knock comes at the door, making you jump. Quickly and carefully, you drop the hairs back into the jewellery box and close the lid just as the door opens quietly.

"I thought you'd be asleep," Loki says softly. You shake your head, wrapping your robe tighter around you. He moves over to where you sit noiselessly - it's always unnerved you how silently he can move - and hesitantly takes a seat on the lounge too. He doesn't speak.

At last, it's you who breaks the quietness. "I disobeyed your orders. You told me not to see her." Loki says nothing. You look at him searchingly. "Aren't you angry?"

He shrugs. "It's hardly a surprise. You've never been good at doing what you're told. What did surprise me," he continues, "is how long it took you."

There's not much point in keeping secrets now that Lorelai's gone. "I did... I did go see her-"

"Right after I told you not to? I know." Loki's voice is calm; the total lack of anger or disappointment takes you by surprise and you stare at him. "I also know that you were writing her letters - sent through her lover, I assume?"

For the first time, worry creases your brow. "Are you going to punish him?"

Loki sighs. "No."

You relax a little, but you have to ask. "How long have you known?"

"From the start."

"How?"

His voice is blunt and tired. "I know better than to believe that it was I who made you happy." The honesty makes you uncomfortable, and you look away. There's no point denying it; he's not a fool and you're not a liar. It's obvious that he's uncomfortable too, because he changes the subject abruptly. "Where's Magni?"

"Sleeping," you answer. He nods. "What about the Allfather?"

Loki sighs again. "Eir has put him into the Odinsleep. These events have worn on him greatly." You nod, internally relieved for the break from your father-in-law's suffocating presence. "Mother is with him. I know how fond she is of you; see if you can remind her to look after herself?"

"Of course." You hesitate. "It always surprises me... how dedicated she is to him."

"They love each other," Loki replies. "She's the only person he listens to - if he's in the mood to listen, that is." He sounds dispirited, and you glance at him, taking in the circles under his eyes and the heaviness in his shoulders.

"You should sleep," you tell him.

His eyes flicker towards you, then away again. At length, Loki unfolds himself from the couch and stands. He pauses. "I thought you should know," he speaks quietly, "I've had her body sent for preparation, and then to her family in the morning."

All you can do is nod. It's so ridiculous, so absurd...

Loki waits, then moves towards the door before hesitating again. "I know what you think of me," he says with determination. You glance at him, and his gaze locks onto yours. "I didn't do this."

His hair is the furthest possible contrast to paleness. You say nothing.

Loki flexes his hands uncomfortably. "Well then," he says, and you wonder why he's still standing there. "There are guards stationed at each end of your hall. If you need me, you know where my rooms are." Once more, you nod, turning back to face the warm fire. He stands there in silence, and then you hear the door close softly behind him.

When he's gone you remain sitting there, moisture in your eyes as you watch the fire die.


There aren't just guards in the royal quarters; there are guards everywhere. They march around, somber and attentive, and Asgard's palace takes on an odd feeling of watchfulness.

News of Lorelai's murder spreads quickly, and though people may not know her name, the grisly story - sometimes dramatized and sometimes underemphasised - scares the citizens, both common and noble alike. Several families depart from court for their country estates, and the servants walk back to their homes in groups.

The following afternoon, you go to visit her family - a retinue of Einherjar with you. She's been laid in the lounge while people pay their respects and make preparations. Her mother is nowhere to be seen, but her youngest brother Arik and father Ragi stand at her side, like two stone guardians. They both have red hair, and for some reason it brings tears to your eyes. They are polite and offer you refreshment, but you decline. You've not come to be a burden, only to pay your respects.

Her father appears to be taking it hardest. You've never known the man to be without a smile or a belly full of laughter, but all joy is gone from his face.

"Foolish girl," he says at last. His voice is choked.

"She wasn't a fool," you say quietly. Ragi says nothing, staring down at his daughter's corpse.

You speak again, hoping to comfort him. "I promise you, she won't be forgotten. Whoever did this will pay dearly-"

"Pay?" He turns abruptly, voice tired. "I don't want vengeance, or repayment. Will that bring my daughter back to me?" He shakes his head, "No. I know you mean well Your Grace, but I want nothing more than to lay her to rest and retire myself. I'm tired of war."

Arik says nothing, but a scowl crosses his face. You glance between them, then lay your hand on Ragi's arm. "I understand. I'll leave you in peace now; if you need anything, don't hesitate to call on me."

The older man murmurs a thanks, and you leave him with a heavy heart. In the hallway, you swing your fur-lined cloak over your shoulders, bracing yourself for the autumn air when footsteps follow you. "Your Grace?"

You turn to see Arik standing there awkwardly, hands clenched. "Hello Arik," you greet him gently. He's young - when you and Lorelai had been taking lessons from Frigga he'd still been a child running around with a wooden sword. He's grown now, almost as tall as his sister had been, but he's still youthful enough to lack a beard. "How are you?"

He shrugs, "Don't know." He hesitates. "It's odd, this." Your confusion must have shown, because he rushes clumsily to explain. "I mean, how things have worked out... You're a queen and Lorelai's dead." His voice breaks and you step forward to embrace him. The boy sniffles against your shoulder. "It's not fair."

"It's not fair," you agree quietly. For the first time, a little of the rage that lives inside you seeps into your voice, "It's not fair at all."

The youth pulls back, rubbing his eyes in embarrassment. "Father's moving us to Vanaheim after the funeral; it's tonight by the way." You nod, feeling that he's about to ask something of you. You're right. "I don't want to go," Arik looks angry. "I want to stay, and find out who did this, and when I do I want justice for my sister."

Though it's a solace that someone feels as you do, your heart sinks a little at his words. "Oh Arik... You're so young..."

"I'm training in the army! I was sent to one of King Loki's encampments last winter, he can tell you how good I am! General Tyr says that I should be a soldier in just a few years - please, please, let me stay here," the desperation in his words is charged by pain, and your heart goes out to him.

You rub your face with a deep sigh, "Arik, it's not fair on your father-"

"He'll let me stay if you ask for me," he pushes. "I can be a guard in the palace, or a squire for one of the generals, I don't mind! But let me stay, please! Someone has to help Lorelai!"

You hush him, worried that his father will hear his outburst and be angry. "Alright," you tell him. "I'll think of something you can do and ask your father - but you can only stay if he gives his permission, do you understand?"

"I don't need his-"

"Arik," you say sternly. A scowl appears on the young man's face, and you explain gently. "Your parents are grieving, Arik. I can't blame them for wanting to keep you safe."

"They should want to help," he argues, "Father doesn't even care about who did it! When King Thor was murdered everyone was angry - Lady Sif's father is still searching for anyone who knows anything! But nobody cares about my sister."

You sigh. "I do. You do. Others are bound to care. We all know it's not right Arik, but not everyone has the strength or will to fight against these things." He still looks angry, and you don't know what else to say. Instead you tell him that you'll attend the funeral, and that you'll call for him soon, and leave the family to their grief.


All along the path back to the palace, Arik's words echo through your mind. He's right, though you hadn't the heart to agree with him. People don't care that Lorelai is dead, that her was murder was a miscarriage of justice. Anger pushes you in the direction of the temple, and you command the guards to wait outside.

Inside is quiet, and you bar the door. What you have to say to the Norn priest verges on sacrilege. You trace the familiar steps to the altar, and kneel and light the candles; now six, one more added for the memory of your friend. You mutter a perfunctory prayer, and then stop.

"Why?" You say aloud. "Why is this happening?"

Nothing and no one answers you, and you only become angrier. "How much suffering do you weave?" you ask viciously, "Why do you put such terrible people in this world?"

"Your Grace?"

The sound of the priest's voice makes you rise from the ground, dusting off your skirt. He bows dutifully. "My apologies for your loss."

"Which one?"

He falters. "Both, of course, my queen. If I can be of service, please let me know."

You doubt he even knows Lorelai's name. "Thank you," you reply, "There is something I would ask of you." He bows again, the long sleeves of his golden robe swinging. Your voice brooks no argument. "I want to speak to the Norns."

The priest freezes, mouth opening. "My Queen?"

"Now."

Again, he stands agape. "But, your Grace... such a thing..."

"There is a murderer - likely murderers now - among us," you hiss, "and they are taking the people I love from me. I deserve to know why, and I will know the names of the guilty parties. The Norns wove these threads and they will give me the answers I seek. I demand it."

"But..." The priest's protests are lost as you turn and enter the side chamber which holds the Norn-pool. He scurries after you anxiously. "Please Your Grace! The Norns are not to be meddled with!"

"They have meddled with me far more than I with them," you snap, unclasping your cloak. He darts forward to take it from you, seeming resigned. You dip a foot into the water. It's cool, and makes your skin prickle. You've seen the priests do this from time to time - often in trying times, such as when the Allfather had fallen into the Odinsleep, they would enter the pool in their golden robes and pray, and return with wisdom.

You don't seek wisdom - you demand answers. So with a breath, you step into the water, fully-clothed, until you're in to your waist. The priest hovers at the edge of the pool, looking uncomfortable. "One must be anointed-"

"What now?" You interrupt him, lips trembling from the cold.

He deflates. "It is an old rite; you must submerge yourself fully and pray. When you rise again, if you have not angered them, you will hear the answers you seek."

The prospect of dipping yourself fully under the icy water is off-putting, but you take another breath and shut your eyes to do so anyway. The water makes teh tip of your nose and cheeks go numb, and as soon as you're beneath the waves you begin to pray ceaselessly. Please, Norns, please. Tell me who, show me. A name, a face, anything...

When your lungs burn and you can take no more you rise to the surface, spluttering and gasping. The priest leans forward, eyes wide, and you listen hard through the pounding of your heart, waiting to hear them speak.

There is only silence.

You pray again, even harder, and wait again. Nothing. "Please," you say despairingly. The priest stands back uncomfortably. The ongoing quiet fills you with fury and you raise your voice. "Answer me! Norns!"

There are no voices, no visions. Only the coolness of the water on your skin and the chattering of your teeth. Rage builds and builds, until you're scrambling out of the pool and tearing your cloak from the priest's hands; you fling it around yourself and storm through the temple, through the doors, and all the way back to the palace.

Once you are back in your room, hands shaking from the biting cold, you quickly undress and wrap yourself in a warm robe before retrieving Magni from his nurses. He's babbling happily, and you think you catch the beginning of mama. "Oh my darling," you mutter to him. Sadness fills you as he settles happily in your arms, trying his best to complete the word, and all you can think is that Thor should be here too.

Water fills your eyes but you blink it back furiously, swaying your son in your arms. He begins to fight to be put down and you oblige him, watching carefully as he pulls himself up on the leg of the sofa and tries to walk on wobbily legs. You follow behind quietly, waiting to catch him when he falls.

Would he be angry with you, like Arik was with his father? When he was older, would he be disgusted that you'd married the man who murdered his father? Hate that you'd let him hold him, that you'd accepted his companionship?

You pinch your nose hard. You weren't doing enough, you realise grimly. If it had been you murdered, Thor would have found the person by now - would have exacted justice.

But you can't kill Loki, and you can't lose Magni. You can do nothing but wait and search and try to find some answers. You hope it's enough.


Lorelai's funeral is small and private - you stand apart from the main group, mostly consisting of her family. You've worn black to mark the occasion, and after her parents and brother have said their last words, you take a brief moment to say your goodbyes also. She's been dressed in a fine pink gown that covers the gruesome wounds that lacerate her torso, and her mother has adorned her with her favourite jewels.

She looks alive, and you don't know whether it comforts or unsettles you. You drop a kiss to her cheek for the last time, and tell her you love her. "I'll have vengeance for you," you whisper. "And we'll laugh about it in Valhalla."

The boat is set adrift, the prayers are sung, and Lorelai's spirit rises to join her ancestors. You wipe your eyes as you watch, then turn to her family. Her parents stand on the shore, arms around each other tightly. Arik's fists are clenched. You wait patiently until they turn away from the shore, and then approach Ragi and his wife. Arik watches hopefully.

"I hear you're going to Vanaheim?" you ask.

Ragi nods, eyes shifting over the horizon. "Aye, we just need the King's consent. Away from all the rumours." And memories, you think sadly.

"I understand," you murmur. "If you ever want to visit Asgard again, you know there is always a place for you here. Will Arik be going with you?"

Ragi nods, but his eyes glance towards his son and they are troubled. Arik glares back. "Yes."

You pause, hesitant to breach the topic, but Arik's eyes hold you to your promise. "It's a shame, he'd make a fine soldier. I wouldn't mind having him in my guard."

Lorelai's father looks at you sharply, "You wouldn't?" To your relief he doesn't sound surprised or annoyed - in fact he sounds hopeful. You nod. Ragi looks at his son's angry face again and then back to you. "He loves Asgard," he says quietly, "he's always wanted to be a soldier. But he's young..."

"He is," you agree, ignoring the glare that the young man sends the pair of you. "But my offer still stands."

Ragi is silent as he thinks it over. Under his arm, his wife speaks. "Lorelai loved him," she says weakly. "She wouldn't want him to be unhappy on her account. Ragi, he wants to stay."

"I do!" Arik says determinedly.

His father sighs harshly, then turns back to you. "Are you sure?" he asks. You nod and he returns the gesture before turning to his son. Arik watches him fiercely. Ragi grips his sons shoulders hard. "You be careful, stay out of trouble," he tells him. Arik nods fervently. "You come see your mother and I often, you hear? Be good, make me proud."

"I will Father," Arik promises.

You step away to allow them some space to say their farewells - and catch a figure leaning against a tree up on the hill. You squint to make them out; Haldier. He's drinking from a flask, and you dread to think what state he's in. When you turn back, Arik is speaking to his mother, and Ragi comes towards you. Despite the heaviness he carries, there's a proud light in his eyes.

"He's a good boy," he says thickly.

You nod. "I'll look after him," you promise.


I took the idea of the Norn-pool from AoU, when Thor goes into the underground pool to communicate with water spirits. This story isn't really supernatural, but elements of that will be added in (you'll see next chapter!) because I kinda wanna push the otherworldly aspect of Asgard in this story. It's not just space vikings in a pseudo-earth.

Next chapter will have much more Loki; I'm glad you all enjoyed their interaction last chapter, but there are a few more bumps along the road yet. I'm happy to say that Reader is starting to move past her grief now and take some action, and I cannot wait to write it! Thanks for reading!