Silver and Scales
Chapter Twenty-Five: My Passion Echoes off the Walls
The sensation of having a god enter one's mind, the feeling of having an intruder invade one's thoughts was similar to the paranoid phenomenon of having somebody stare into the back of a man's head. It was what Midgardian men and women could compare to the awareness of having somebody staring at them—though, when eyes would fixate on the suspect who would be glaring into the back of their head, the suspect would be reading a book or gazing out the window. It was the faintest of consciousness. Any long-term prying could result in the target or victim to become skittish, very aware that their inner thoughts—the inner workings of their brains—were being excavated and shuffled around like pieces of a puzzle or pages of a book. It was the minor branch of magic, a psychic abilities learned by the slightest accomplished sorcerers and the specialized selection of mortals.
Vyperia sat in Loki's bed, crumpled into a small heap of a pool of self-loathing. She scorned herself for being so unsympathetic and nonchalant about such a touchy subject. Her stomach was a pool of anger that swam through her veins. While she had been particularly hurt that Loki had not moved past the small bump in their relationship—having not told him earlier about his true parentage—Vyperia only wanted to find a way to rebuild the fallen reliability between she and Loki. Her care for him drove her to harsh criticisms of how she handled his confession of distrust. She hadn't expected him to be so honest about it; though she wished that he had said that there was a chance that it could be rebuilt, even after years of half-truths and insecure falsities.
She had thought that he had forgiven her, truly, her silent trespasses; but now it was clear that he was still wounded by how Vyperia had said nothing to him about his father, Laufey. Vyperia's flawed apology, merely empty words to Loki, had been trifled with guilt, inner scorn, and uttered fault. Vyperia's thoughts raced, and she wanted Loki to infiltrate her mind.
I'm so sorry for what I said. I'm sorry for what I did. I'm so…so…sorry.
Vyperia held close the bed sheets in her fists.
She could go to him, to find him…and do what? Apologize again and make him more annoyed than what he was now?
No. He wasn't annoyed. Loki was furious with her. If he was annoyed, he would have said something that was equally painful to her. Instead, he had stayed quiet and walked out of the room. He couldn't bear to be around her. Loki left the room, unable to stay close to her any longer. As she thought of this, Vyperia began to disdain what she had so easily stated from dripping sarcasm.
She closed her eyes.
The inner working of a psychic's mind was like a choreographed layer of tunnels. Each road, each tunnel, each little path led to a different cerebral cortex that was connected to an individual person. Vyperia's mind searched for the racing thoughts of Loki, though she could find him nowhere in the connective grounds.
He could cloud her path, to block her from her intrusion. Loki's illusion and powers could blunt all of her will and strength to figure out where he was or what he was doing. Vyperia abandoned the attempt swiftly after she realized this.
Unable to decide what it was that she should do, Vyperia slid out of bed quietly, leaving the barren space of warmth that had offered no comfort to her. Her body glowed in the moonlight that shined through the opened bedroom window. She reached for her robe and pulled it over her shoulders, wrapping the sash tightly across her waist.
Vyperia left the bedroom wordlessly.
Her eyes met the shining golden handle that had taken a fierce beating from Loki just minutes earlier. Vyperia held it open with care, stepped through the lit passage, and closed it behind her with a soft click. Even the closing sound sounded as frightened and gloomy as she felt.
Strolling through the empty corridors, through the bare passages, and down a dark hallway, Vyperia entered the grand throne room. Her green eyes cascaded over the dark chamber with little cheer.
Then her eyes fell upon a silhouetted body, sprawled over the throne's arms.
She felt apprehensive as she looked upon Loki, who sat in his father's chair with a book in his pale hands. His eyes were focused upon the pages of the thick novel. One hand absent-mindedly stroked the spine of the column as his eyes paced to and fro, engrossed in the words that pulled him out of his reality.
Vyperia strode toward him uneasily. She said nothing as she came toward his throne chair. The steps that led up to his place of seating seemed like the valley of walking on shattered glass as Vyperia neared them. She crossed her arms and folded them tightly against her chest as she approached Loki, who paid her no heed—and if he did know that she was in his vicinity, he chose not to grant her a passing glance.
Loki's legs were strewn over one side of the arm of the throne. His hand propped up his head on the other arm as he continued to read the pages. After a swift examination of the rested book in his lap, he licked a finger and flipped the page.
Vyperia said nothing as she stood beside him. The tension in the large room tightened the growing knot in her chest, and it tensed her stomach to the point that she would suffocate under the silence. She bit her lip uneasily.
A thick reserve fell upon them in the stillness. The only occasional sound was the small crinkle of the book as the page was flipped.
"This is the longest time," said Loki's low voice, "that you have gone without pleading."
His tone was stricken with irritation. Vyperia stepped back to stand behind his throne, unable to look at him any longer without growing annoyed at his hindrance to look at her.
She said nothing in return.
"You obviously have something to say to me," continued Loki, "or else you would not have sought me out to simply stand around, lurking in my personal space."
"You know perfectly well what I have to say," Vyperia answered coldly.
"That is quite a frost in your voice; though I am fairly certain that it was you who instigated this fight—"
"I meant nothing by what I said in the bedroom and you should have known…" Vyperia stopped herself short as she realized that her tone was, in the very least, disrespectful to the king of Asgard.
When she hadn't finished her sentence, Loki's diverted from the interesting pages of his novel. He didn't seek the eye contact between them, but his fast pacing eyes disrupted their course as he concentrated on the gravity of their conversation.
"I was wrong to say what I did," Vyperia admitted with closed eyes.
She eased her way back to stand in his line of vision, though he made no effort to look at her.
"I should have been more sympathetic to your cause. I—"
"I don't require your sympathy, merely your allegiance," remarked Loki crossly.
Upon that note, he bookmarked his place and closed the book. Loki straightened in his seat, throwing his legs over the up-right position of his seat to sit properly as king. He laid the book on the floor beside his throne and looked upon her visage crossly.
"Have I not shown the validity of my allegiance time and time again?" Vyperia snapped angrily, stepping in front of him.
Upon hearing the frustration in her voice, he met her blazing gaze with cold authority.
"Have I, for years, told you that I have been nothing but faithful to you?" Vyperia continued irately. "What more is there to say? What else can I do?"
He merely looked at her.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?" Vyperia screamed into the silent chamber, glaring at him.
Loki stared at her as if she had performed a mastery feat of magic. The passion in her voice filled the empty hall—her words echoed off the walls and it was if several women cried out to their husbands a question of relentless fury that had been bottled for years. Vyperia heard her voice call from the medium level up to the ceiling. Hearing the disgruntled rage and broken pain in her tone, Vyperia winced as if she had been harmed with her own words. She sighed and passed a hand over her face.
Loki gazed at her.
"I'm sorry, Darling…" whispered Vyperia, her voice broken.
She felt her eyes burn.
"I'm so sorry," she muttered, shaking her head.
Loki watched her utter with a silent pest upon her shoulder. He saw a steady stream of tears quietly fall from her eyes to quickly trail down her cheeks. She quickly wiped her cheeks as if it was disgraceful to see a queen weep. Loki made no attempt to comfort her.
"I just…" Vyperia's words forestalled her attempt to find a meaning for her emotional outburst.
Loki leaned back on his throne.
"You are my wife," said Loki gently. "It is natural for you to feel frustrated."
"My frustration," said Vyperia quietly, "is not led by the burden of the throne, or by the brink of war that Asgard nears every day. Jotunheim is not my political dilemma. I care not for that race, but I do not envy or hate them, my lord."
She met his eyes with the look of one who attempted to hide potential sadness with a hidden smile.
"I am a goddess, Loki. I cannot hate the race of Frost Giants or the less evolved race of Midgardians. Have you learned nothing of what my duties are or what I am?" She made that false smile as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. "What am I to you if you do not trust me?"
"I trust you, but how could I possibly know that you cannot be enticed by promised gifts of power? It is in your nature," said Loki, "to crave power and identity. If you should be given such things, will it make it easier to leave me for a life more prodigious than what I have given you?"
"What makes you think such unlikely scenarios?" asked Vyperia incredulously. "I have loved you for a thousand years. I have fought with you on the battlefields—you saved my life once, and I thanked you for that. We've gone behind your parents' back night after night to keep what we have alive. We played together. We fought together. I love you in every way that can be possible…"
She stepped toward him as he sat upon his throne.
"Why should I choose raw power over what you have given me?" she said quietly. "We fight. We hurt each other. We are lethal to each other. I need you more than you know, Loki." She smiled. "Without you, what have I to offer to anyone who decides to court me?"
Loki listened to her as if she were pleading for a man's life. Her case was valid, but it was like her words were carefully blended with passion, for truth. Loki gazed at her, slightly touched by her soft plea, but shook his head.
"These are but words," said Loki.
"Words?" Vyperia hissed incredulously.
He said nothing in return but saw the frustration increase upon her beautiful face. She shook her head indignantly.
"What little effect I have on you!" she cried out irritably. "You would have me on my knees to beg you to accept what I have to say!"
He considered it.
"Yes."
She stared at him, put out.
"What?" Vyperia said, her voice quieted.
Loki's frown slowly upturned into a mischievous smirk.
"I would accept your forlorn apologies if you did precisely as I tell you."
Vyperia looked at him, taken aback.
Her anger was doused and now she was relit by a sudden—unexpected—stir of arousal.
"What?" she repeated.
Loki shifted in his throne to comfortable set his hands upon the arms of the chair. He smiled at her with the familiar charm and appeal that many times had lulled her into primal urges, the same that slowly tangled her stomach with carnal pleasantries. Vyperia's brow furrowed with a lovely perplexed expression on her reddened features. The crimson flush in her cheeks paled and turned an adorable pink tinge as she looked at Loki, stunned.
"You heard me," he said. Amusement flicked upon his tongue as he indicated the floor in front of him. "Kneel."
She hesitated.
Loki's blue eyes penetrated hers with distinct arousal.