Darcy's POV
Loki and I work hard to make our remaining days count. He does as promised and keeps me in his bed as much as he can. When we are absolutely required to be somewhere, we attend together if we can and rush through our events if we must be separated. Every moment we spend together only does more to convince me that leaving him could be my undoing. I just can't fathom seeing my best friend every day for half of my life only to suddenly have him torn away from me. Pain tears through me, hot and searing.
The sun is just beginning to rise. Normally, I would enjoy the sunrise, as it is a thing of beauty, but today, it may as well be an axe swinging to sever my head; today is the day I leave.
Loki's arm pulls tighter around my waist. I wonder if he even slept. I barely did, and not for sexy reasons. The dread kept us up most of the night, leaving very little time for intimacy. Still, it was wonderful to spend my last night here in his arms. I know even at this early point in my life, that I will cherish him forever. As long as I live, I will never love another as much as I love him. Sighing, I turn around to look into his eyes. After a moment, he leans forward to kiss my forehead.
"Come, let's get dressed. There is something I must show you before you go."
Confused but willing, I comply and am soon dressed in what I wore yesterday. I'll have to change into something more formal before I go to meet Father, I remind myself, doing my best not to cringe at the quickly approaching reunion.
I expect Loki to reach for me so we can teleport to wherever he wants to go, but instead, he offers his arm and we begin a slow and silent walk through the castle. The world is still asleep, save for a handful of servants rushing around to get the palace ready for the day. They bow quickly to Loki as they go along but otherwise avoid eye contact, knowing better than to stare at the prince openly escorting a woman so early in the morning.
"Does it bother you that they don't bow to you as well?" Loki's sudden question breaks the heavy silence.
"No," I answer honestly, having considered this before today. "I haven't done anything to earn their respect. I don't employ them, I don't protect them, and I don't command them. Why should they show deference to me?"
Loki lets out an odd sound, sort of like a growl. "They should. You are the chosen one of an Asgardian Prince."
I stop walking and turn to give him a soft smile, doing my best to keep the sadness out of my eyes. "Not officially."
He places a hand on my cheek fondly, but there is regret in his words. "Would that I could, darling."
"I don't doubt you. I never have, and I never will." The words leave my mouth without thought. For some reason, I just know he needs to hear this. And it's true.
A strange mixture of relief, love, and pain colors his face, although he is quick to mask it with a pleasant expression.
We begin our walk once more and are soon in a sort of attic in one of the castle's turrets. Loki releases my arm in favor of grabbing my hand and pulls me to the edge of the room.
"An old painting?" Surely he must understand my confusion. It's just a shabby painting of a door, nothing special.
Loki grins with a hint of that trademark mischief and my stomach flutters. Not taking his eyes from mine, he reaches straight into the painting and pulls on the handle of the door.
"An old, magic painting," I say, catching on.
Loki's grin does not last long, and I begin to grow apprehensive. Why is he showing me this?
"Loki?"
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and it is apparent that he does not wish to say what he planned to.
But he does.
"Darcy, you know I love you, but I" he falters, giving me time to register the sharp pain I feel stab in my chest, "I cannot continue to be in contact with you once we are separated." He looks me in the eye then, the hurt clear on his face. Loki so rarely openly shows his emotions, so I know how deeply he must be feeling right now.
"I understand." Despite my declaration, tears prick at my eyes and are soon falling down my cheeks.
Loki pulls me into a hug, tucking me under his chin.
"I truly understand, I promise," I cry into his chest. "As terribly as it will hurt to never see you again, I think it would be somehow worse to hold on."
"Yes," he breathes, unable to put any strength behind the word. "However," he clears his throat and his voice comes back sounding slightly stronger, "this painting is connected you. Should you experience an emergency, write a letter and picture it appearing inside this door. I have a simple spell surrounding this painting that will alert me whenever something is placed inside the doorway, such as a letter from you." His previously formal voice softens, and he looks me earnestly in the eye. "I shall check it straight away."
I squeeze his hand in thanks, touched that he would prepare this and offer his eternal aid, and lean against him in silence.
The tolling of the bell alerts us, and I squeeze my arms around him once before pulling away.
"We best be getting back so we can get ready." I chuckle, although there's no true humor in me. "Can't have the whole castle know we're screwing, right?"
His snort matches mine in terms of gaiety, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless. "The way you were screaming last night, I'm sure they at least have their suspicions."
A surprised scoff bubbles from me and I lightly smack him on the arm.
He smirks, true mischief in his eyes once more. "Not that I'm complaining. No, I adore every noise that comes from your mouth, especially when it's wrapped around my-"
"Okay!" I cut him off, actually laughing now. "We get it, we get it, you're a sounds guy."
His face scrunches up as we begin our walk. "A 'sounds guy'? Whatever does that mean?"
I shrug one shoulder. "You know. The noises your partner makes during sex turn you on."
He shakes his head in fond exasperation. "Dearest Darcy, wherever do you learn all these terms?"
"Books." Duh.
He scoffs. "You and I must favor entirely different literature."
I grin, turning to walk backwards so I can tug on his hands. "That's what makes us so fun."
And for just a few moments, we've forgotten what lies ahead.
{***}
"Lady Darcy, I am here to escort you out of the castle." The guard's voice is gruff and uninterested as he speaks through my door.
"Coming," I call, although, in reality, I am stalling for time. "Dagmar," I question, "are you sure this dress is right?"
Dagmar surveys my appearance before nodding. "Yes, my lady. All of my research shows that this is the appropriate dress for a woman of your age and status in Alfheim."
I wear a long, pale white dress that sweeps the floor when I walk. Thin golden ropes criss-cross the bodice and encircle my arms, the sleeves are long and sweeping. The dress is entirely impractical and much too light for my complexion, but I suppose it doesn't really matter. Truly, I don't have high hopes of impressing anyone at the moment.
The guard knocks again impatiently.
"I said I was coming," I huff, annoyed.
Aware that I am unable to delay the inevitable any longer, I turn to Dagmar. "Thank you, I mean it."
She curtsies. "You're welcome, my lady. I wish you the best of luck and all the happiness you may find in Alfheim."
With that, I steel myself and stride to my bedroom door.
{***}
The walk to the horses feels like a death march. Nobles and prominent Asgardians line the path, doing their duty of seeing the King's Ward off. Some look uninterested, others gaze at me with respect and fondness. Still, I can't focus on much more than my breathing. At the end of the long, straight path lies the Royal Family. Thor, Odin, and Frigga look pleased. Loki wears a mask of indifference and keeps his eyes away from me.
"Lady Darcy," the king begins when you reach him. His speech is loud and meant for the Asgardians making up his court, not for me. "It was with open arms many years ago that I welcomed you into my home and my family. I am happy to have provided you with an exceptional upbringing and the finest amenities Asgard has to offer. It is with great pride and a touch of sadness that I now send you back to your father, as I have come to have much fondness for you." Lie. "Still, I know you are off to your home and you will be well cared for. My family and I hope to make your acquaintance in the future, and encourage you to remember how Asgard has helped you when you one day sit in a position of power."
I curtsey low as protocol dictates, though because I have ever dwindling respect for Odin, the action is an empty one. "Of course, your highness. I extend my deepest gratitudes to you and your family for taking such wonderful care of me all these years and for sharing what you have. I, of course, will always keep Asgard and its people close to my heart."
Speeches done, a servant arrives to help me onto my horse. On the way, Queen Frigga takes my hand and squeezes it, looking kindly into my eyes. "I have complete faith in you, my dear. Please know that I have thought of you much like a daughter all these years, and though it breaks my heart to see you go, I know you are off to greater things. You will be wonderful."
My breath hitches and tears prick my eyes. I'm touched. "Your majesty, I have always had the highest respect for you and truly appreciate every way you guided me and helped me through these years. You've been a wonderful mother, and I do hope to see you again."
Tears appear in her own eyes, though she hides them well. She squeezes my hand once more before releasing me to the servant who fulfills his duty of getting me safely onto the horse.
I ride with Thor on my left and Loki on my right. As we leave, the people cheer and wave, though I don't hear much over the ringing in my ears.
"Look, Lady Darcy, many commoners have come to see you off! They must truly love you." Thor's comment piques my interest enough for me to turn around. I'm shocked to see that the spaces behind the lines of nobles are packed with Asgardians, all waving and smiling. Hesitantly, I wave back, and their cheers increase. Huh, who knew?
Thor encourages his horse to pick up speed, and Loki and I do the same, not looking at each other. We race from the castle and across the Rainbow Bridge. The wind whips my face, but Dagmar's intricate braid ensures that my hair will remain neat and presentable. All too quickly, we arrive at the end of the bridge. Thor moves to help me off the horse, but Loki huffs and takes his place, lightly gripping my waist. He still does not look me in the eye.
"Come now, brother, this is no time for possessiveness. You know Lady Darcy belongs to you no more now than she did back in the palace. It is time to let this silliness go."
Both Loki and I ignore him, although I can see the anger brewing beneath Loki's surface. The three of us enter the golden dome, and the closer we get to Heimdall, the faster my heart beats. Still, I throw my braid over my shoulder and square my shoulders, doing my best to put on a confident air. Fake it till you make it.
Heimdall greets us with respect and instructs us on where to stand. I have only traveled by Bifrost once before, and that was when I was very young, so nerves flutter up in my stomach. Discreetly, Loki takes my hand, and I let out a breath, grateful for him.
Light fills me without warning, and I understand that the magic of the Bifrost must be different than what Loki wields because when I travel with him, we are encased in darkness. In the next second, my feet hit solid ground and I stumble. Both Thor and Loki reach for me, having anticipated me being unbalanced. Once steadied, I take in the room. It's not near as grand as the place in which Heimdall resides, but I can tell that this room holds importance. The boxy room is a pale, silvery white, much like the color of my dress. The podium we land on is adorned with light colored jewels that glow slightly underneath us. Eight guards in decorated silver armor stand in front of the exit, blocking our path. They immediately drop into low bows, their attention focused on the two princes on either side of me.
"Rise, valued comrades," Thor speaks, and I can feel Loki's annoyance at Thor delivering the command. Thor's releasing the guards from their bow shows his rank to be superior to his brother's.
A man clad in ornate silver robes steps forward. I hadn't noticed him before.
"Exalted Princes of Asgard, we are humbled to be in your presence."
I do my best to hold in a huff. I'm right here! Isn't anyone excited to see me? After all, this is my home...supposedly. I do my best to shake the bitterness off, although a small amount remains.
"And we are here to complete a task," Loki's voice is cool and detached, and my heart begins to ache.
"Of course," the man in the robes snaps to attention. "If you will follow me, I will escort you directly to the Chief Diplomat."
The man turns and begins to lead us down what seems to be a very long and wide tree branch, with the set of guards following behind us.
With each step, I hear the blood rush in my ears. My stomach feels unsteady, and I must keep blinking in order to hold my focus. Get it together, Darcy, you cannot seem as frightened as you are. Hold your head high and walk with all the confidence you can muster. I do my best to take the advice I just gave myself, and soon I begin to feel slightly better.
That disappears the moment we enter the castle.
The tall spiral stretches up into the sky, its silver color looking rather dull. I'm sure it is meant to look grand in the moonlight, based on its color and shine. I can't help but compare the building to Asgard, which feels much more like home to me than this place. The man leads us on a path to what I assume is the throne room, but no true monarch reigns here; Odin and his family control all of the Nine Realms, but they have a stronger hold on some than others. Although he is not a ruler, he is the highest ranking official in Alfheim, so it is my father who occupies the throne.
I gulp.
He looks like me, I suppose, with his dark, wavy hair and pale skin. But he is of much taller stature and his eyes are a deep brown. Marks and wrinkles line his face, showing his age, his years of fighting, and the stress of his job. As Chief Diplomat, he wears not armor but sweeping, heavily decorated robes. They are the palest, purest white one can imagine and adorned in braided gold ropes, much like the ones on my dress.
He begins to walk forward.
"It is customary, I believe, to kneel when addressing Princes of Asgard." Loki surprises me by being the first to speak, his voice a calcluated mixture of coolness and apathy.
A flash of hardness enters my father's eyes before he gives a bright smile. "Of course. Please accept my forgiveness, your highnesses." He kneels, bowing his head in deference to the men at my sides.
I have yet to be acknowledged by anyone.
Unable to stand it any longer, I clear my throat.
My father truly looks at me for the first time. Once Thor gives him the okay to rise, my father puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me over.
"Hello, my child. Welcome home. You hardly look as I remember."
"That's what happens when you don't see someone for many years." I'm a bit disconcerted by the resentment in my voice, and I can see that it makes everyone uncomfortable as well.
"Yes, well," my father clears his throat and looks away, removing his hands from my shoulders and taking a step back. "I am glad to see you now." I can see the truth in his eyes, and my heart slightly softens towards him. I don't have many memories of my time on Alfheim, but I know that my father (when he was around) was kind towards me.
"Your Majesties," my father steps back so he can see both the princes. "I extend my deepest gratitude for you seeing my daughter safely into my home."
"We do it gladly," Thor answers, smiling at me. "Although I am saddened to have her leave Asgard, I know this is her home and she will have a wonderful life here."
Loki says nothing, his mouth set into a hard line. My father seems uncomfortable under his gaze, so he turns his full attention to Thor.
"She will. I have a most prestigious marriage lined up for her, and once it has been planned, I will be sure to extend an invitation to her gracious hosts."
He's talking about me like I'm not even here. Anger wells within me, begging for my attention. I take a deep breath in the hopes of calming myself. At the noise, Loki's eyes dart to mine, the first time he's truly looked at me since this morning. Now, pain and panic take over my body, and the weight of desperation strains my chest.
"My family will be thrilled to attend if we are able. But now, I'm afraid, my brother and I must return to Asgard." Thor's words show a clear intention of them leaving, and my eyes go wide.
Just as my father dips into a bow, I hear a strangled voice call out a word.
"Wait!"
I'm shocked when the echoes tell me that the voice was mine.
All eyes are on me, with clear feelings of confusion and annoyance emanating from my father.
"It is customary, I believe," I accidentally repeat Loki's words from earlier, and I can feel his pride, "to extend an invitation of dinner to my escorts."
The hard line of his mouth tells me that my father is not pleased with my habit of speaking freely. He quickly schools his expression though and enthusiastically agrees.
He certaintly is a diplomat.
"My people and I would be honored to host you."
Thor beams, amiable as always. "We are delighted to accept! Forgive our armor, we were not prepared to dine."
Loki smirks and, with a flash of green light, he is dressed in proper Asgardian dinner attire.
Father stares on in shock. "Well," his voice is dry, and I can hear his fear, "the rumors are true. A sorcerer stands before me."
Loki's smirk deepens.
"If it pleases your highnesses, I will have my servants escort you to rooms so you can prepare for dinner as you like. It will not take long for the food and hall to be prepared."
"Yes, that would be nice," Thor agrees, offering Father a kind smile.
I can tell that Father readily accepts this after Loki's hostility.
"Wonderful! Darcy," he is the first person outside of Loki to use my familiar name, and it strikes me, "your handmaiden, Ragna, will escort you to your chambers and ready you for dinner."
Ragna, a girl in her middle teens, steps forward and curtsies first to the princes, and then to me.
The first time someone has bowed to me. It makes me uncomfortable, if I'm being honest.
She sets off, and I realize I am meant to follow her. I do so, forcing my feet to take action. From behind me, my father assigns groups of servants to Thor and Loki, and they are led down a different hall.
Ragna and I do not speak as I am led through the intricate, winding hallways. We climb many sets of stairs, which makes sense because the castle is in the shape of a tall spiral. Finally, on a floor high above the ground, we reach my chambers.
Ragna holds the door open for me and I step in, observing my new living space.
My chambers extend over a series of five rooms: my bedroom, bathing room, sitting area, tea/dining room, and my personal library. Each room is long and narrow, most likely to accommodate for the height of the castle. The room itself is that same pale, silvery white that Alfheim seems to favor. My bedding and furniture are green, just enough to remind me of Loki and his chosen color, but it is completely the wrong shade. It's much too light and like the green found in nature, as opposed to Loki's ornate and deep emerald. It's all wrong. My chambers are beautiful, and certainly more decorated than my room in Asgard, but I find myself missing my previous chambers, with their warm, welcoming oak walls and deep purple accents. My eyes catch a table in the sitting room, and my heart sinks upon realizing that my magical flowers are not there. But why would they be, I think bitterly. Those belong on Asgard, along with everything else that I treasure.
"Are your chambers to your liking?" Ragna has a high, timid voice, and I can tell that she fears me. I wish she wouldn't.
"They're lovely," I breathe, trying to keep the hurt and bitterness out of my voice. This is your home now, Darcy. Better get used to it and just let Asgard go. But it hurts.
Ragna can sense my displeasure. "The Chief Diplomat did not know what you favored, so he ordered the room to be decorated grandly, but in Alfheim's neutral colors. If something is more to your taste, let me know and I will have it changed immediately."
I think on this. "Will I be in this room long?"
She nods. "Even when you are married, you will keep these chambers. Your husband has his own as well, and you will meet him in his chambers when he calls for you."
My stomach twists. "He's here in the castle now?"
"Of course. He must work closely with your father to learn all he can so he is prepared when the time comes for him to take over as Chief Diplomat."
I scowl. "And he did not see it polite to greet me?"
Ragna shrinks under my tone, and I immediately feel bad. "I am sorry, my lady."
I sigh. "No, it is I who must apologize. My day has been long and the nerves of returning got the best of me."
Ragna smiles, and the beginning of trust shines hesitantly on her face. "All is forgiven, my lady." She pauses. "Would you allow me to re-do your hair? It is lovely, but wrong for traditional Alfheim style."
I nod and follow her to the dressing table, doing my best to not seem attached to the traditional Asgardian braid.
Ragna allows me to stay in the dress, praising my previous maid for "nailing" Alfheim attire. "It shows your rank," she explains, smoothing my dress out from below me. "The higher in status you are, the lighter your clothes." It's then that I notice her dress is a light brown. Seeing my gaze, she nods. "I am a servant, so my dress is brown. But," I hear the pride color her voice, "I am handmaiden to one of the most prestigious figures in Alfehim, so that elevates my rank. If I worked in the kitchens scrubbing dishes, my dress would be dark brown. The kitchens are the lowest one can go." I hear resentment in her voice, and wonder if she once occupied a position there. As Ragna continues talking to me, her voice becomes more confident and chipper. I can tell she is pleased to be here and will become even warmer to me with time. Perhaps one day, when my resentment and fear fade, I will have a friend in her.
A bell rings, and Ragna straightens. "That signals dinner. I will escort you there and remain standing a few feet behind your chair. Should you need anything at all, simply wave your hand, and I shall appear."
"Alright, thank you."
She nods, beaming at my thanks. Perhaps servants aren't treated as well here as they are in Asgard, I wonder.
I follow Ragna down countless flights of stairs before she takes a hallway to her right. After a left, we enter a large dining hall, comparable in size to the one in Asgard. Due to my long descent, I am the last to arrive, and the men all wait standing behind their chairs. As they are higher in rank than my father, Thor and Loki take the heads of the table, and my father takes a seat in the middle. Ragna leads me to the one across from him and pulls out my chair. Once I am seated, the men sit as well. Interesting, I think. In Asgard, you just sit an eat, regardless of who is there. Yes, you stand for royalty, but you don't wait for everyone to be in attendance.
The table is fairly long and feels much too big for the four of us, but soon the food is brought out and I wonder if the table is long enough. Roasted boar and hens and something else I don't recognize are the main dishes, with countless varieties of fruits, vegetables, and breads surrounding them.
Thor grins and begins an easy conversation about how his friend Volstagg would adore this meal. Father extends an empty invitation of hosting him sometime, and Thor gives a pleased response that holds as little meaning as did Father's invitation.
I take advantage of Father and Thor's distraction to glance at Loki. He wears his usual mask of apathy, but I know him well enough to see past it. His hand grips his knife tightly, and he stares blankly at his food, not eating. It is plain that he is in as much distress as I am. But we cannot allow it to show, because if Father finds out that I have been sleeping with Loki, all will be ruined.
But would that be so bad, a rebellious voice within me questions. You wouldn't have to marry that guy-my face scrunches as I realize I do not even know his name- and you would be sent back to Asgard.
Inwardly, I sigh. No. Your duty is to your family and your realm, not to your heart and desires. Besides, it is unlikely that Asgard would take you back.
In hopes of covering up my emotions, I drink from my water.
Dinner is filled with casual conversations that hold no real meaning. I don't know why I forced the invitation, as this is no true time with Loki. Still, I just can't bear to see him go and will stall for as long as I can.
But time moves on and runs out all too quickly.
Before I can prepare myself, Thor is standing, and the rest of us must follow.
"I wish not to worry our parents any longer. Brother, we must return to Asgard."
"Of course, I apologize for having kept you too long," my father begins politely, but I don't hear the rest of the conversation.
He's leaving. He's really going, he's going to leave me here. My breathing picks up as panic sets in. I try to swallow, but can't around the huge lump in my throat. A white-hot feeling burns in my stomach, and I bite my lip, begging myself to calm down. Ragna steps forward to pull back my chair, and I have to push against the weight of my dread in order to stand up.
My footsteps drag as I follow Father, Thor, and Loki to the entrance of the castle. The same group of guards and the man in the ornate robe wait to escort the princes back to the Bifrost Room.
Thor turns to me, smiling kindly. "Lady Darcy, I am so glad to have made your acquaintance and wish you all the happiness in the world." He bends down to kiss my hand and then turns, allowing Loki the opportunity to do the same.
He doesn't.
Instead, he nods curtly and turns on his heel, striding towards the exit.
I know why he did this. I saw the pain in his eyes and notice the strain in his shoulders as he fights the urge to turn around and run to me.
That doesn't mean it hurts any less.
Without another word or glance my way, the princes leave.
Numbness settles within me. He's truly gone.
When he has completely faded from my view, I speak, although I don't take my eyes off the horizon.
"When will I meet him?"
"Your fiance?" Father's voice is gruff and disinterested. "Sometime soon. He is a very busy man, you know."
"Of course." My words are polite but my tone is dead.
Father looks at me worriedly, unsure of what to do. "Perhaps sleep will do you well, my child." He points at Ragna, who flits to my side and leads me to my room.
I keep it together as she helps me out of my day dress and into my night clothes. My expression is blank as she brushes my hair and removes the makeup from my face. I mutter a polite, "thank you," as her dismissal. She curtsies and leaves.
It's the feeling of the cold, empty bed, so foreign from the welcome embrace of Loki in his own, that breaks me.
I sob well into the night.