This chapter would not stop bugging me, so I sat down and wrote it all in one sitting! It's the longest one so far, which I didn't expect, and if you liked the supernatural theme in the last one you should love this one! I didn't get as much Loki in as I wanted to (I cut it off at 8k words) but I promise he'll be in it a lot more in future chapters!
No real warnings for this chapter; a smidgeon of horror I guess? But nothing bad. Enjoy!

The next day, you rise with determination. The walks you and Loki had taken have been stopped in light of the panic surrounding the capital, and you enjoy being able to sleep in. But not for long; you've a mission in mind, and it buoys your steps. Firstly you pick out a gown. It's green like a forest floor, and the neckline dips lower than most autumn wear, but not so much as to be scandalous. Then you darken your lashes and use a tiny tin of ointment to colour your lips to a blush.

Loki doesn't like citrus smells, as far as you're aware. Your hands hover over your selection of perfumes, deliberating. Nor is he fussed on overly-sweet smells. So you settle on a bottle of Vanir perfume; it's smoky, and subtle, like cinnamon, and you rub it into the hollow of your throat and behind your ears. Your morning bath has lent a curl to the ends of your hair, and you leave a few draped down your back while you arrange the mass into a quick updo.

When you're done and after spending a brief time with your son, you go to the Allfather's quarters. The amount of sentries on the doors are ridiculous - six to every corridor, and you feel watched as you pass through. Odin's room is large and golden - gaudy, you think to yourself. He lies under the shimmering golden dome that protects him while in the Odinsleep, and Frigga sits quietly at his bedside, weaving her loom.

Out of courtesy, you make a soft noise and she looks up. Her eyes are tired, and you get the distinct impression she's been crying. Going to her, you embrace her softly. "How are you?" you ask.

Frigga smiles at you weakly. "Fine, my dear, just fine. And you?" Her eyes go over your face and she brightens, "You look lovely! I'm glad to see you up; so much death of late, I feared you may have taken it hard."

"I'm not unaffected," you murmur. "But Lorelai would not want me to spend my days crying over her."

The Allmother pats your hand in comfort, "I know, sweetling. I'm sorry."

You clear your throat quickly, before you can linger on the topic too long and inevitably get caught up in emotion. "Nor would the Allfather wish for you to neglect yourself," you say gently. "Loki and I are worried for you."

Frigga waves away your concern, though you can see she's touched. "At least you agree on something," she replies lightly. You give a forced laugh. "But don't worry about me, truly. I know well how to manage."

Your eyes go to the old man unconscious in the bed. It's unfortunate that the cause of Frigga's suffering brings you so much relief. "How is Odin? Eir said-"

"Fine, fine." Frigga's voice is uncharacteristically rushed. Her hands twist together. "It's only... well. We're both getting older I suppose." You wait, wishing her to say more. After a beat, she obliges you. "You know," her voice is tremulous, "he was unwell before Thor took the throne even. He does too much." She slips her hand over his, lying against the blankets. "The boys do their best, but he's always felt responsible for them."

Silently, you think that it's less out of duty and more out of egoism that Odin does all he does. But of course you can't tell her that. "He has certainly always been a hard-worker," you reply diplomatically. "Perhaps too much so."

"That's what I tell him," the Allmother says, and you can hear a tinge of desperate frustration in her voice. "But the closest he's come to relaxing is when I convinced him Thor was ready to take over - you remember, after his last sleep. He was so worn down, so tired, yet it still took me having to explain that his life was in danger if he continued as he was. We fought for days," her voice shakes.

You murmur sympathetically. "At least he listened," you offer half-heartedly. Frigga bites her lip, and you decide to push a little more. "It's good of him to worry over his sons," you say, though it's a bitter thing to have to compliment a man you depise, "but perhaps... this is a sign."

Her brow crinkles. "Of what?"

"That he needs to step back again, needs to let Loki do things alone. After all, he helped Thor-" you hate saying the words but it must be done if you're to be free of your domineering father-in-law - "and he did wonderfully. He should let Loki have the same chance."

"I know," Frigga says quietly. "But he's so dedicated, so diligent..."

Tyrannical, you think. Selfish.

She's quiet again, and you decide not to push any more. You've not come to upset her; only to volunteer a solution that would hopefully benefit you all. "I'm sure he'll be well again," you say kindly, hugging her once more, "and then we can all think on a solution."

"Indeed," the Allmother murmurs, her eyes thoughtful. You can tell she's mulling your advice over.

You rise. "In the meanwhile, please take care of yourself," you beseech her, "anything you need; companionship, food, Magni - you know where I am." You glance at Odin's still form. "Let me know how he does?"

She smiles up at you, happier than she had been when you'd first entered. "You're a sweet girl," she says warmly. You smile back, though a little guilt rests on your shoulders. But you can't help hating her husband. "What are you doing today?"

"Taking Magni to visit Mother."

Frigga nods approvingly. "Good; wish her well from me." She bids you farewell and you leave her.

For the first time in months you go to the throne room. Court is in session as you step inside, and a murmur goes up when you quietly take your place on the steps below Hlidskjalf. Loki gives no indication that he pays any attention to your entry, but you can feel his eyes on the nape of your neck. You've made it in time - Lorelai's parents stand aside, waiting their turn to speak to Loki.

But before they do, a heavyset, fierce looking man with hazel eyes is called forward. He looks vaguely familiar to you. "Loki," he says loudly, angrily, and the air shifts. Behind you, Loki inhales and you get the distinct impression this is not the first time this man has come forward.

"Lord Harbard, if this is regarding what we spoke of-"

The man interrupts him furiously. "Of what else should it be? My daughter is dead, Loki - I want vengeance."

Sif's father, you realise. Your stomach turns when you think of the fate of the Warriors Three and the Lady. Loki speaks again, testily. "I have told you, Harbard, if you wish for assistance from the crown, you will have it."

"I'm not speaking of money!" The man explodes, his thick black hair gleaming in the morning sunshine. "I want blood! My Sif was murdered," there's a furious, malicious tone in which he says the word, and you can see people in the crowd glancing askance at each other. He steps forward, right up to the steps where Loki sits, and his resemblance to Sif is even more striking close up.

"I assure you," Loki grits out. "The guilty party will be discovered, and when they are, you may have them."

"I already know who did it!" There's accusation in his voice and the whispering grows. You stare at Harbard, willing him to shut up, to not provoke your husband.

"Do not forget to whom you speak." Loki's voice rings out coldly. "If you've a name, give it."

His words are full of warning but the man is angrier. "Aye, I have a name!" he roars. "Loki Liesmith!" The court explodes in mutterings, some amazed and some sympathetic, all enjoying the spectacle. Loki snaps at the Einherjar and they march forward to seize Sif's distraught father. Your eyes fly to Loki; is he going to hurt the man? Rage simmers in his green eyes and you can see it grow as he listens to the noise from court.

"You're a murderer," Harbard continues to roar, fighting against the soldiers who restrain him. "Kinslayer! You don't belong on that throne, you don't deserve loyalty! And anyone else who supports you is just as rotten, just as vile-"

"Put him in a cell!" Loki commands, rising to his feet furiously. "Do not release him until he's fit for civilised company!"

Still struggling, still cursing, Harbard is dragged from the throne room. Several people slip out after him, and when the doors close again there's a hum in the room.

Loki speaks again. "Court dismissed," he says shortly, striding down the steps. Lorelai's family look aghast, and you motion reassuringly to them before following him into the side chamber, the doors closing behind you and muting the excited discussions that are being aired in your wake. Loki storms around the table, upon which a jug of water sits. He pours himself a glass and downs it rapidly.

After setting the glass down, he speaks. "Enjoy the show?"

You eye him cautiously. You'd hoped to catch him in a better mood. "It was certainly entertaining," you reply neutrally.

"I suppose you agree with him." Loki's voice is hostile. "You'd love to see me thrown to his mercy, wouldn't you?"

You hold your hands up. "Loki please. I haven't come to fight with you."

That seems to calm him a little; his fists drop from his sides to rest on the tabletop. His tone is more civil. "Why are you here?" he questions, more curious than rude. "You never attend court anymore."

"I have something to ask of you," you say. Norns, you hope this works. Thor had once remarked that you could charm... - you pray he's right and not just empty flattery.

Loki seems intrigued. His brows raise high. "Oh?"

You drift towards him, so that he can get the full effect of your perfume and your eyes. "The next people waiting to speak to you wish to relocate to Vanaheim. They have a son; he's a soldier. He wishes to stay and I wish to add him to our household guard."

Loki links his hands behind his back. "Why?"

"They're Lorelai's family," you say quietly. "He's her younger brother - I want to help him."

He's silent while he considers your request. It doesn't take him long, "Very well."

The smile that spreads across your face is genuine, even if it is tinged with relief. "Thank you," you murmur. He simply inclines his head, but as he does you notice his eyes linger on your neckline, and he inhales. "I also ought to tell you that I'm taking Magni to visit my mother tonight." You're sure to infuse the right amount of lightheartedness into the words so that Loki has no reason to think anything amiss. "I'll stay there and be back in the morning."

His brow creases and he stirs. "You'll be gone the night?"

You hum. "It's just... with all that's happened, I'd like to get away for a little while. And I haven't seen my mother in some time now. I'll take guards," you quickly add. If he thinks you're going to try and run away, he might never let you go.

"It's dangerous."

"Several guards."

Loki's expression remains displeased, but you're being so amicable that he has no grounds to argue on. "And you'll be back in the morning?"

"Before noon. I just want a change of scenery, someone to talk to."

He looks at you and his mouth opens - but he closes it again quickly. Instead he says, "You'll miss our dinner."

"We can move it to tomorrow, can't we?" It's a struggle to keep any trace of annoyance from your tone; you endeavour to sound as agreeable as possible. It works.

"I suppose." Loki sounds resigned, though you can't imagine why. His eyes narrow the smallest bit. "Tell the guards if anything happens to you I'll have them strung up." Your eyes widen. It can only be a threat.

"I'm sure everything will be fine," you say weakly. He nods and you sigh internally with relief that it's over. As you move to the door, he says your name and you turn back.

His eyes look you over, slowly. "Make sure to take a warm cloak. It's getting colder." Unsurely, you nod. Loki folds his hands behind his back once more. "Well, enjoy yourself. I'll see you tomorrow."

You reply politely, and leave as soon as you're able.

Loki is true to his word; by noon Lorelai's family have departed with his consent, and Arik is in the barracks. You have no intention of trying your capricious husband's patience - you assemble a small troop of guards and inform them of your plans. But before you leave, there are two more you wish to bring with you; in truth, the only two you trust.

Haldier appears when summoned and you're relieved to see he's sober, though his face is grim. He listens dutifully when you ask him to join your guard and agrees with no compaints. You eye him critically. "Are you... well?" you venture.

He shrugs. His hair is oaky brown, his eyes the colour of the sea. "As much as I can be." The man's voice is hoarse.

You glance around - in the courtyard soldiery and servants mill about, not paying much attention. You move closer to him. "I saw you at the funeral. Why didn't you come down?"

"I didn't want to see her," he replies simply. "Not like that."

What can you do but nod? You know only too well the grief he endures. "She'd have been happy you were there," you tell him softly. He nods, eyes downcast. Quietly, you continue, "You know her brother, Arik? He's here, I've made him a part of my household guard. Will you watch over him?"

"Of course. But I have to tell you, I don't think keeping him in the barracks is wise, my queen."

Your face is sharp. "What do you mean - why?"

Haldier's clears his throat, lowering the volume of his words. "There are rumours among the men. Many of them believe Loki had a hand in it."

"Why?" you're shocked. That he was guilty of Thor's murder you could believe; could understand why anyone would believe it. But he'd been far removed from Lorelai's death. "There's no real reason... Do you think he did?"

Haldier shrugs. "I don't know what I think. He was in the feasting hall, we could all see him. But he was angry with her; and she was disobeying him..."

The inflection in his voice makes you cringe. "Haldier... I'm sor-"

"I don't blame you," he says, and you can see he's not lying. "It was her idea, she was adamant that she had to see you.."

You're silent for a moment while you weigh whether or not you should share what you know with him. He begins to look uncomfortable, and you reach a decision. "Thank you, for that. Haldier," you take a breath, unused and still unwilling to vindicate Loki. But Lorelai's dead, and you want to know her murderer more than you hate him. "I truly don't think it was him." The man is evidently surprised so you rush on, "when... it happened... I don't know if she had fought back or what, I didn't see... But there were pale hairs under her nails, Haldier. Very pale. If Loki did kill Lorelai, why would he need a disguise to do it? Nobody was about and hundreds of people can vouch for his presence in the feasting hall."

The soldier's eyes are bright with intensity as he absorbs your words - but before either of you can continue, you catch sight of red hair and step away. "Arik," you call. The boy looks around and comes towards you. "Not a word," you warn Haldier under your breath. Arik's too young to be caught up in such dark proceedings; you had no wish to distress the boy further.

"Your Grace," Arik bows and you smile at him gently.

"Did you say goodbye to your parents?" you ask kindly.

He nods, "They're leaving tonight; the house is being packed now."

You smile at him again. Poor child, you think. He was not much younger than you had been when you'd first been left alone in the capital, and you knew well how overwhelming it could be. "How are the soldiers treating you? Do you like the barracks?" Arik answers evasively, and you glance quickly at Haldier. "There's something I wish for you to do," you tell him. "I'm going on a trip tonight and I'm taking a few guards for protection - would you join me?"

The youth brightens a little. "Of course, my queen," he replies. "Where are we going?"

"Only to my mother's village; but it's a few hours ride and it's in the mountains, so you must be aware of your surroundings. Haldier," you gesture and the man steps forward. Arik recognises him, as you hoped he would, "will be coming too - any questions or worries you have, and you may raise them with him. Understand?"

"Yes, my queen," Arik replies, and you're happy to hear he sounds more upbeat.

"We're leaving shortly," Haldier tells him. "Go get some things, and be quick about it."

Arik instantly falls into soldier-mode; he nods and quickly marches off. You turn to Haldier, who also looks a little less glum. "Remember, you say quietly, "not a word."

The ride is long and there's a cold breeze in the air, but you love it. It's been an age since you've ridden your horse properly, and you ride ahead of the carriage which holds Magni and his nurses, the soldiery racing to keep up. The wind whips across your face and you grin unabashedly. With the awful events that have befallen, you've forgotten to do the things you enjoy, and you promise yourself to go riding more often.

"You look happy," Haldier comments, a wheeze in his chest as his horse falls into line beside you. There's some distance between the two of you and the others, and given the grief you both share there's a comradery between you now. "I didn't know you were a horsewoman."

"I'm an excellent rider," you laugh. "I've been doing it most of my life."

"Lorelai hated riding," he says wistfully.

You glance at him. "Not all types of rising, as I'm sure you well know." His eyes widen comically and he seems lost for words. You laugh at him.

Haldier shakes his head. "I sometimes wondered," he confesses, "how it was that you and Lorelai were so close. You were so different. But I think I understand now."

You smile sadly. "She made me laugh," you tell him. "I didn't always find her appropriate and I think she thought I was too serious, but she always made me laugh." He returns the smile and you fall into silence. Glancing back, your eyes fall on Arik, trodding next to the carriage. You beckon him forward and he urges his horse into a gallop. "We're almost there," you assure him when he's caught up.

The youth looks somewhat relieved; there's weariness on his face. "My mother makes a wonderful vension stew," you tell him, knowing the boy's appetite. "I'm sure she'd be happy to make some - unless you'd rather stay in the village inn with the rest of the men?"

"Venison stew sounds like Valhalla," Arik replies hungrily. You smile at him.

"Good! Tell the others that when we reach my mother's house they may go and find rooms in the village; it's small so they won't be far away if anything happens. You and Haldier can stay with me."

The boy does as he's told. Haldier watches him go, before speaking. "Loki won't like it.""Loki doesn't have to know," you say quietly. Haldier pauses and then nods - and suddenly warmth blooms in your chest. For the first time, you're starting to feel like there are other's on your side - like you're a queen again, and not just a pretty ornament.

Late afternoon is wearing on by the time your small party has gone through the mountains, slowed down by the carriage. When you reach your childhood village; a large circle of farmsteads and homes, with several streets and taverns, you're glad to be down from the horse. Going straight to the carriage, you can hear Magni's cries from inside, and you take him from the nurse who hold him.

"Did he sleep at all?" you question her and she shakes her head. That pleases you - he'll sleep soundly tonight. "Here," you give her a small purse of gold and silver coins as the second nursemaid steps down from the carriage, "you've both done enough for today. You may take the night off; there's an inn at the village and some shops you may like to browse before they close."

The girls' eyes light up. "Really?"

You smile at them. "Really. Just don't drink too much and be ready when I need you in the morning." They sing their gratitude before scarpering off, and you smile over Magni's head.

"Your Grace," one of the Einherjar addresses you. "Where now?"

"That's my mother's house-" you point out the farmstead, where a young man is ploughing the field- "I'll stay there for the night, and Arik and Haldier can stay with me, the rest of you may spend the night in the inn."

Most of the small group seem happy enough, but the soldier who had spoken frowns. "Only two guards?" he questions, uncertain. "King Loki-"

"King Loki doesn't know how small my mother's house is," you interrupt him. "I suspect none of you want to be packed in like sardines, and I would like to enjoy the evening with my family. Do you think he'd object to that?" It's clear the man is hesitant to fall into Loki's bad graces; he wavers but does not agree. You smile at him sweetly. "Sir, I've every confidence in your abilities. If anything does go wrong, the village is so small that you'll know almost immediately - and I'll have two guards with me anyway. Besides, it's such a small place, I doubt harm will befall us in one night. Wouldn't the King rather hear how dutiful you were, than how uncomfortable I was?"

That gets him - he nods. "I'll have the men do a quick survey of the area, check the parameters. Don't hesitate to send for us, your Grace."

"I won't," you assure him. Finally the guards move off, and you walk the semi-familiar path to your childhood home.

The arrival of a royal entourage has evidently been noticed, because your mother is waiting anxiously at the door. As you approach her, you're not sure what to feel - anger, happiness, betrayal? But her face has fresh lines and it all melts away when you see how the happiness in her expression.

"My dear!" She hurries forward, pulling you into a hug. Magni is sandwiched between you as you return the gesture, and she pulls away to dote on him. "Come in, come in," your mother says, urging you inside. "Sigurd! Bring fresh wood and milk, I've guests." The boy you'd seen tolling in the field shouts back and she closes the door.

The house seems even smaller than you remembered compared to the expanse of the palace. It's still daytime, so there's no fire in the small hearth and the curtains are open. "Oh, you didn't say you were coming!" she frets, but you can hear how delighted she is.

"I wanted to surprise you," you reply, setting Magni on the fur in front of the hearth. He stretches out curiously and begins crawling about.

Your mother comes over with cups and a plate in hand. "I thought you were too angry with me," she says. "You've not even written."

Ashamed, you look down. "I was unhappy, mother."

She hands you some water, knowing your dislike of mead. "And now?" she asks hopefully.

Suddenly, your mouth is too dry and the words stick in your throat. Of course she didn't know, how could she? Drinking the water rapidly, you take a breath. "Lorelai's dead, Mother." Saying it brings a lump to your throat.

Your mother is shocked into silence and she flounders for words. "What? Lorelai? But..." she trails off, eyes wide. "Oh... the poor girl. What happened?"

"She..." If you tell her that another person; another person close to you has been killed, she'll worry. "She had an accident. It was only a few days ago."

"No," your mother says in dismay. "You were good friends... Oh my dear..."

She comes and sits beside you, pulling you into her arms. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to let tears escape as she comforts you. Frigga is wonderful, but she's not your mother. "I'm okay," you say unsteadily. "I'm fine. Just... upset."

"But of course," your mother says soothingly. "Of course." At length she releases you, and wipes the wetness from under your eyes. Magni calls happily from the floor, a welcome distraction, and she lifts him, asking you a million questions about what she's missed.

By evening Arik and Haldier arrive; you've already asked mother not to mention Lorelai and she readily agrees. She apologises that they'll have to sleep beside the fire in the living room but they're both very gracious about it and you can tell she likes them. Arik especially warms to her - he helps her make the venison stew he's been promised, and she laughs at his cheek when he steals the odd bite.

You're happy to see the diversion is helping the young man not to dwell on his grief. All four of you settle down to a warm meal, and afterwards Arik looks sleepy. Haldier is quiet, but you think even he seems a touch more content. Before the redhead can doze off however, he pats his shoulder and rises to his feet. "Come on," he says, "we need to do one last patrol before you think about sleeping. It won't take long."

To his credit Arik does not complain - and they disappear off into the darkening evening. When they're gone again, you and your mother sit in cosy silence - Magni lies sucking his thumb on the fur in front of the fire, and you rise to draw the curtains. There is still an undercurrent of unsaid tension between yourself and mother, and when she speaks it doesn't surprise you.

"How is your marriage?"

Her voice is quiet and she doesn't look at you, sipping the warm drink in her hands. You sit again before answering her. "It's... ongoing."

She is quiet again before asking. "Does he hurt you?"

"No," you answer immediately. To his credit, Loki has never once laid his hands on you, and you won't spread lies about him. "No, he doesn't hurt me." She looks relieved, and you feel guilty for not coming to see her sooner. "Have you received your payments?"

"Yes dear, don't worry about that." She shifts a little. "Are you getting along?"

"With Loki?" She nods and you sigh. "As well as one can, given the circumstances I suppose."

She bites her lip; a habit you've inherited. "You were friends once. Perhaps-"

"I think that's asking a little too much," you say. She doesn't argue, and you have to ask, "Mother?"

She looks at you. "If you thought Loki might hurt me, why did you agree to it?" It takes concentration to keep the hurt from your voice, and you know she hears it anyway. Your mother lowers her eyes and does not reply. But your anger has waned, so you sigh and change the subject. "Odin has fallen into the Sleep."

"He has? We must pray for him." You roll your eyes. "What happened?"

You shrug carelessly. "He's old; I suppose it's nature's way of telling him to slow down."

"He does do much," your mother mutters sympathetically. "It cannot be easy, having lost one son and another unprepared. The Allfather's been handling it wonderfully, everyone agrees."

"Do they?" you say coolly. "And what do they say of Loki?"

She pauses. "They say... Not much." You can feel she's evading the question but it's not of much concern to you. "Asgard is well," your mother continues, "and that is the important thing."

Everyone takes to their bed not long after Arik and Haldier return. It's early, but the long ride and heavy food have sent you all into a lethargic state. Magni falls asleep quickly when you rock him in your arms, and you kiss your mother goodnight. She tells the two soldiers where to find more wood for the fire if it goes out in the night and brings them extra blankets before disappearing up the stairs.

You wait until the house settles and you can hear light snoring. It's tempting to fall into bed - but you have not come this far to give into tiredness now. You tuck a blanket over Magni and then lift your fur-lined cloak over your shoulders. There's a breeze outside, and it rattles the windows softly.

Quietly, you move out into the upstairs corridor and close your bedroom door. The house is dark, and you edge down the stairs; avoiding the second to last step where there's a squeak in the wood. Both the guards are fast asleep. Or at least until you unlatch the door.

"Your Grace?" Haldier sounds half-asleep half-alert and you glance at him. He stares at you. "What are you..."

You raise a finger to your lips and shake your head. A long moment passes, and then he rises. He doesn't bother putting his armour on - only lifts his sword and jacket, and then follows you. When you're outside in the cold air, you whisper, "You don't need to come. I won't be long."

"Where are you going?" he asks, hesitant.

You cast your eyes to the mountains not far from the village. "I need to speak to someone."

"Who?" When you don't reply he shifts uncomfortably. "Your Grace, I am charged with your safety."

"I'll be safe; it's not far. And I'm taking my horse, so I'll be back even sooner. I know I can trust you Haldier," he sighs. "You must not speak of this.

Uneasy, he sighs. "Very well, your Grace. But can I at least know where you're going?"

"Only to the mountain."

His eyes widen and his head turns towards the forested peak. He doesn't argue with you any more. "If you aren't back in some time, I'll come looking."

You smile. "Thank you, Haldier." Quietly, he retreats back inside, and you lift your hood, hurrying to the stables where your horse is. You fumble in the darkness - memory only serves so well, and you stub your toe twice before managing to unlock the stall and lead the animal out. "Be quiet," you whisper to the animal, petting it gently. The chestnut mare is obedient as you lift yourself onto her back. Then your moving, across the field and into the treeline, far from the lights of the village.

It's fifteen minutes at a gallop through the forest, and then another twenty up the base of the mountain. When the terrain becomes too steep, you stop and tie your horse to a tree. It's truly dark now - the moon shines high above you and damp leaves crackle and snap underfoot. You pause for a minute, listening to the air. No wolves howl and no creatures move, so you continue upwards.

Finally, when you're gasping for breath, you see it. The dark wooden hut; it resembles a temple with its sloped roof and rune markings, but it's not made of gold nor are there candles or incense. Cautiously, you approach the door, taking your time. No light comes from inside, and you begin to wonder if it's derelict. But you won't know unless you try - and you so desperately need to know.

Steeling your resolve, you lift a hand and knock the door.

"Come in."

The voice that calls out is hard to distinguish; neither soft or harsh, and your movements are wary as you push the door open and step inside. Lowering your hood, you part your lips to speak when the Seer talks again. "You've come about your husband."

A chill goes down your spine. Dumbly, you nod. The Seer gestures with a hand. "Come. Sit. Or stand, if that be your preference."

Sitting would be the polite thing, you reason, so you do. The long brown robes the Seer wears are thick and heavy, and shroud their features from your view. All you can make out are two glittering black eyes. After a moment of silence you question, "How did you know I was coming?"

"I didn't."

"Then how-"

"Queens, kings, allfathers. Maids, soldiers, stableboys. You all want the same thing; answers."

You swallow. "I have sought answers, in the temple. The Norns gave me none."

"Priests." Their voice is full of scornful laughter. "Pomp and display - what need do the Norns have for that? They do not ask to be worshipped. They ask for nothing, and they give nothing."

The statement makes your stomach sink. If even a Seer could not help you, what else would you do? Travel to the darkest corners of the realms, search the darkest magics? Such practices required heavy prices - too heavy for you to bear. "So you cannot help me?"

"Me? No. Nor can the Norns, I fear. But there is one; perhaps two, who you may ask of."

Your eyes widen. "Thor?" The Seer nods and something bright and fierce flares inside you. "You've spoken to my husband?"

"He has come to me," there's an odd lilt to the Seer's tone; a sort of muted reservation. "The first time his face was split wide open and I could not understand him for his lips were too mangled to form words-" you clap a hand over your mouth, tears of horror stinging your eyes- "he had not the power to summon a storm, and he was gone in an instant. But the second," now there is glee in their eyes, "the second... He shone bright as a beacon, and his fury was great."

Your hearth thrums, and you lean forward, "Did he say anything about me? About his son?"

"It lasted but a moment; he did not speak."

You're hardly listening. An idea - a wonderful, thrilling idea occurs to you and the words burst from your lips, "Can you bring him back to me?"

The Seer laughs at you. "His soul is restless; enough so that he has the will to appear to me. But no - not even the mighty Thor can cheat death." Their words don't surprise you, but they crush you all the same. The Seer continues, "Have you anything of importance to ask? I've not the patience for silence or riddles."

"Yes, I do." You steady yourself with a breath. "I want to know who killed him, who killed my friend. Her name was-"

"Lorelai."

You're becoming used to the eerie foretelling of the Seer and it doesn't trip you up, "Yes. Ask them who."

The Seer is silent for a moment; a withered finger rubs against the table. "I must warn you, rarely do the dead speak. You've a better chance here then in your temple, but the answers are not guaranteed. And if they are," their black eyes fix you in place, "you may not like what you hear. You are sure-"

"Yes," you hiss. "Yes I'm sure. Ask them."

"Very well."

The Seer stands - their movements more agile than you expected from a person who appears ancient. As they bend to ladle water from a bucket into a bowl, you offer, "I can do-"

"Quiet."

You bite your tongue as the Seer slowly fills the wooden bowl with water. The liquid sloshes as it fills, and drips down the sides. They amble back to the table, and set the bowl in front of them. Lowering themselves back into the chair, the Seer leans over, their robes almost swallowing the bowl from view. You crane your neck forward.

Placing those spindly fingers on either side of the bowl, the Seer hums, moving it back and forth until the water whips around the bowl. "Thor," they call, "Lorelai. You are needed - come, for a moment." The bowl continues to move - the water continues to overflow. Outside, the breeze beats against the windows. "Thor, come. Lorelai, come. You are called."

Madness, you think as they chant. You've truly reached the edge of desperation, and embarrassment wells inside you. What would people say, if they knew-

A distant echo of thunder makes you go cold.

"Thor," the Seer calls out, loudly. "I've company; someone you'll recognise." The thunder grows, and they hiss at you, "Call him."

Your lips won't cooperate, his name falls from your lips clumsily. "Thor," you whisper.

"Louder child!"

Again, "Thor."

A sudden, electric flash of lightning ricochets outside the door; you jump out of your chair, the hairs on your neck stiff, your hands shaking. The wind howls angrily and all the while the Seer calls Thor's name. You can't look away from the door - the storm grows, louder and louder until you fear you're going deaf - you clap your hands over your ears, eyes wide and lightning flashes violently.

"Close." The voice is almost familiar; but too unearthly and loud, and you wince in fear. "Close."

The door shakes in its hinges and you stare at it in horror. You don't want to see him, you realise dimly as the walls shake, he should be dead and gone and you don't want to see him. Terrible visions of Thor; mangled and corpselike in the doorway fill your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut. "Thor," you whisper. If this is your husband then he'll listen - he's never once scared you. "Thor, enough. Please."

The thunder recedes; the lightning stops. The door is still. The wind is calm.

"There." The Seer's voice is steady - but in it, you detect a tiny quiver. "You have your answer. Now leave me."

You don't need to be told twice. You move quickly towards the door and open it with shaking fingers, quickly. But before you leave, you hesitate. "Thank you," you say numbly.

The Seer inclines their shrouded head and you slam the door shut.

The next morning you rise late - a consequence of your midnight adventures. Magni is downstairs being fussed over by your mother, and she smiles at you when you enter the living room. "Palace life has made you lazy," she scolds lightly. "It's well past breakfast."

Haldier meets your eyes for a second before looking away. "It has," you agree.

You stay for lunch, and then until you can't put it off any longer. Arik and Haldier go to round up the soldiers, and you dress Magni in warm clothes for the journey back. He's been endeavouring to say his first word, and it finally forms. "Ma- M- Mama!"

You laugh in delight and poke his nose. "Mama," you reply.

He screams happily, "Mama! Mam- Mama!"

"Oh, your nurses are going to love this," you tell him smugly, wandering out to the carriages where they wait. Your farewells are brief and sweet, and then your back up on your horse and the long road back to the city stretches out in front of you. Both Arik and Haldier are in higher spirits then they had been when you'd left, but as the afternoon wears on and Asgard comes closer, a cloud descends upon you.

"Close." Your dead husband's voice had said. Close.

Haldier doesn't pry, which is a relief, and then you're riding back through the city, where people wave at you and smile. You slow your horse to wave back, but it's half-hearted. Close. When you reach the palace courtyard again, it's as though you never left; it's busy with everyday activities, soldiers marching, women chatting, horses neighing. You accept the hand of the Einherjar who helps you down.

Magni's nursemaids appear in your peripheral, looking every bit as frazzled as you'd expected. In their arms, the tiny boy chatters away, differing variations of the word he's just learnt. "Take him to my chambers," you instruct them. "I need to settle my horse."

Turning back, you thank the soldiers for their service and dismiss them - Arik wanders after them. As they go, a man brushes past, and you recognise him with a start. "Lord Harbard?"

Sif's father stops short. He's wearing the same clothes he had yesterday, and he looks at you coldly. You balk at his expression but endeavour to enquire after him. You had admired the Lady Sif, though you'd never been close - she had always been kind to you, and loyal to your husband. "How are you, sir?" you ask.

"How do you think?" he demands. "Better than your husband expects, I imagine." Behind you, Arik hangs back, eyeing the angry man uncertainly.

You search for a diplomatic response. "We all mourn for your loss, sir. Lady Sif-"

He barks out a humourless laugh, "All? I don't see Loki mourning. And why would he, when he has all he could wish for."

You shift uncomfortably. It's a sentiment you've thought often enough yourself, but coming from someone strange it seems much more vicious. "We are doing all we can, sir-"

"All you can? Liar; Loki's doing nothing - why would a murderer investigate his own crime? should be ashamed." You flinch at his hateful words. "Marrying the man who murdered your husband? Thor's turning in his grave."

"You don't know anything about my husband."

"Which one?" Harbard shoots back. "My daughter is dead, your husband beside her, and you share the bed of the man who murdered them! I'd wage my life he killed that poor girl too, but that doesn't matter to you does it?"

Tears are in your eyes but you blink them away try to keep your voice calm; it would do no good to have a screaming match with a bereaved father. "My lord, I understand your grief, but-"

"Do you?" he demands angrily, fists clenched. "Do you now? You're no better than a whore; honour and loyalty mean nothing to those who can be bought."

"How dare you - I am your queen."

"You're a traitor," he hisses. "A traitor to Thor and all who served him, as my daughter did-

"That's enough," Haldier interrupts him harshly, shoving him away. "Go back to your wife, Harbard. Sif would be ashamed of you."

Harbard's eyes burn as Haldier marches him away; a mix of grief and danger. "No," he replies. "Sif would want vengeance."

Loki clears his throat. "I didn't tell you yesterday; you looked lovely. That colour was very flattering on you."

"Thank you," you answer automatically. You can't stop thinking; about the Seer's words, about Harbard. About Thor. When it's obvious you've nothing to add, Loki speaks again.

"You seem... quiet tonight. Is your mother well?"

"She's fine." Close. "I'm just thinking about Lorelai." He has no reply to that and the meal continues in silence. Covertly, you glance at him. He seems guiltless enough; if a little stressed. But Loki is a great deceiver. Your heart pangs painfully - what else could Thor mean? Who else could he be speaking of? And yet a small part of you hopes that Loki is not what you think - that something somewhere has been misunderstood, and that you won't have to share the long years of your life with Thor's murderer.

There is a way, it occurs to you, to gain a clearer understanding. To give Loki a chance to let the seed of hope grow in you. So you say, "Actually, there is more. I was thinking about Sif's father today too."

Loki's lips thin. "Why?"

"Well maybe in some ways, he's right. Maybe we aren't doing enough-" Loki stares at you silently and you swallow- "maybe there's more we could do to find who did this to Thor, to the others."

"I'm doing all I can," he replies shortly. "Don't worry yourself."

Frustration makes you sigh. "But what are you doing?" you question. "Surely more of an effort could be made..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

You can't explain why you suddenly so desperately want him to give you a reason to doubt his guilt. More than ever, you wish he was the same boy you'd known all those years ago. You could read that boy. You could talk to him. Now, all you can do is insist, "But Loki, I really think-"

"I don't want to talk about Thor," he snaps.

His words make your heart sink. Close. Why would a murderer agree to a closer investigation of their crime? Deflated, you sink back into your seat, staring at your plate. Moisture fills your eyes, and you want to scream. Why did he have to do it? Why couldn't he have been a good man? You could have dealt with your circumstances better then.

No more is said, and you go to bed in silence. All night you lie on your side, staring blankly into the dark. Beside you, Loki's breathing is even. You don't sleep a wink.