A/N: I'm so grateful people are still reading this story. Today's chapter is gonna be a short filler, but I wanted to keep the dancing and Loki's reactions and thoughts contained in one chapter –and it seemed fitting for a chapter focused on the relationship to be the 50th chapter.
Enjoy!
Chapter 49 –Death and the Dwarf
In the beautiful rooms of Valaskjálf, the Dvergar Brokkr could not get his hands to stop shaking as he tried to wash his face. He felt sick and drained, barely able to stay standing as he scrubbed, the memories of what had just transpired repeating in his head over and over and making him shiver once more. The sensation of the thread sliding through his skin continued on even though the threads appeared gone, and every time he even thought about that völva and that wolf he could feel his lips snapping together and being held there by excruciating pain.
Most vividly though, he could remember King Loki, Queen Frigga and Princess Sigyn standing above him, like cold statues, looking down their noses at him as if he was scum on their shoes. If he hadn't been so stupid as to be distracted by Frigga's flirtatious purrs about seeking a jewel as beautiful as Freya's Brisingamen and willing to offer similar terms of payment, he would have seen the moment she threw her spell at him and perhaps deflected it. Instead, he had been immobilised and forced to lie at the former queen of Asgard's feet as she demanded answers about a thing long past. Then for Loki to stand and act as if it were all a mere interruption of his time, for Sigyn to take the sides of the Aesir –who said the Vanir princess wasn't a slave to the Aesir cause was a liar! –it was debasing and humiliating! He, Brokkr of the Dvalin Clan, had been humiliated like a common thrall at their feet, and for what? For taking a payment to create a weapon to defeat an enemy? If it had been Odin who had requested it, the Aesir, in their hypocrisy would praise it and its use.
"Bastard Odinson! Whore of a Vanir!" he growled to himself as he scrubbed harder, trying to remove the sensation of being covered in his own blood. "I'll make them pay, I swear I will!"
"Oh I don't think so."
It was as if a wind from Jötunheim had swept in and extinguished every light in the room. The soap slipped from his calloused fingers, and Brokkr looked up into the mirror above the sink. He screamed. The half dead woman behind him smirked.
"Dear Brokkr, have you no respect for the Queen of the Dead?"
Brokkr whirled around and tried to run for the door, shrieking as he slammed into it and it did not move.
"No! Please no!" he wailed, clawing at the door as the woman advanced on him.
"Brokkr," she crooned, "Calm down. I am not here to take you to Niflheim, it is not your time."
Brokkr's screaming faded away as he shrank to the floor, trembling. "Please, please… please."
"Brokkr," she called again, voice as light as air, "Look at me."
"No, no, no," muttered Brokkr, shoving his fingertips into his mouth and biting on them to keep from shrieking.
"Look at me!" she commanded and Brokkr shrieked, looking up at her and crying out again at the monstrous being. Her dead flesh was grey and mottled, fused with living tissue. A single green eye stared down at him in contempt.
"Now," she purred, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hel Lokadóttir, Queen of Niflheim, Ruler of the Dead… sister to Fenrir the Great Wolf."
Brokkr's eyes widened and he started screaming again.
"It was her! It was her, I swear it was her!"
"The Golden Völva?"
"Yes! I swear it was her, she just told me what to do and what to say,"
Hel smiled, making her teeth show on her dead side even more, "I believe you, don't worry."
"You –you do?" asked Brokkr in astonishment.
"I do." Hel stepped closer and stared down at him. Brokkr cowered at her feet, trembling with fear, "But then again, what does that matter? You knew you were causing pain to someone, it was just unfortunate for you that it was the child of Loki and my baby brother."
"It's impossible! How can you be his daughter? Please-"
"Cease your whimpering, I grow weary of it," said Hel irritably. "I am Lokadóttir, and that is a fact that you will never speak of. Nor will you say a word against my family or Asgard, and certainly not against the king. In fact, you will return home and sing the king's praises. Now, tell me the story of the Golden Völva, the truth and nothing else!"
"I already told Lo- the king!"
"I wish to hear it again. I want every detail and nuance."
"I…"
Hel rested her hands on her knees, leaning forward like a mother talking to her small child, "Brokkr, it may not be your time, but that doesn't mean I can't take you with me. And if I did, do you want to know what the rest of eternity would be like for you?"
Brokkr pressed back against the door as Hel delicately plucked at her singular glove, revealing bone and rotting flesh with the nails hanging off. This hand reached for Brokkr's face, and he screamed.
It was time to get ready for the third Ostara display. Once more Abjörn dressed Loki, but it was much more uncomfortable this time. Loki had to clench his hands into fists to keep himself from striking Abjörn every time the man rested the washing cloth on his skin. He tried to ignore it by thinking about Sigyn, and what he would say to her. He had considered going before the festival started, but felt it would be better to wait, he needed to think about what he wanted to say. He needed to think about what he wanted to hear.
The idea that Sigyn would let herself be put into an eternal marriage with someone she thought of as a father and teacher, just to try and reach him made Loki's stomach turn. He would never let it happen. As he sat in the water he found himself thinking about their marriage, about his repeated thoughts on the matter before he had lost control.
Their marriage was a fact. It always would be.
Yet Loki could feel that there was more between them now than just his problem. Something was happening with Sigyn, something she had not yet confided in him. Not that Loki blamed her for it now, he had not exactly been a good listener lately. Still, he had a nagging feeling there was a problem he still couldn't see between them, and until he could see it, he did not want to mention it. There was enough trouble between them, without adding more. He sighed and leaned his head back.
"Abjörn, how long have you been married?" he asked, looking at the balding man.
"Longer than you've been alive your majesty," said Abjörn with a smile.
"And you enjoy it still?"
Abjörn shrugged, "It's not the same as it was when we married, but nothing ever is after that much time."
"Do you get bored of your wife?" asked Loki as Abjörn started to comb his wet hair. It was getting too long, he'd need to cut it. Abjörn chuckled,
"Well, your majesty, you'll find that, eventually, all men do. It's simply how it goes. One woman is not enough for us." He patted Loki's shoulder, "You are young, and have yet to love the same woman for a thousand years. Once you have you will understand."
"So… you just… cease to love her?" asked Loki, frowning.
"It is not to be cruel, it is simply our nature to want more than one woman, especially after she has borne children. Women find their contentment and solace in motherhood, in a way we can never understand. They do not need more."
Loki thought of Sigyn, of Sif, of Hlin and Ilmr. "I see… you really think they don't want more? That they might want to study or fight or any other things?"
"They are passing fancies, they never stay with them for long. My wife was very fond of plants and cultivating them –she even spoke of becoming one of Idunn's assistants. But when we married she realised she was happy at home with our children. Women belong at home, where they can indulge their softer natures. Men belong in the world."
Loki recalled Mýrkjartan declaring that a terrible ratio of space. He wondered just how happy Abjörn's wife had been to give up her dreams. Perhaps, Loki mused bitterly, he felt a greater pang of sympathy for women staying in the home so much because, in essence, Angrboda had turned him into her little house wife. Angrboda had gone out and hunted for food, while Loki had sat by the cradle and worried over rashes, fevers and coughs. Angrboda had been a good huntress, but she had not always been successful, and those times they had been hungry. Loki had known he could have done something if he had just been let outside!
Maybe that was the answer, make every idiot who thought it was easy to be stuck at home with children all day take a turn, and see if they thought the same afterwards. He imagined Abjörn sulking at the fireside as his wife cheerily bid him goodbye as she went to spend time with her friends in a tavern, or even just went to work, here at the palace where she would rub shoulders with the highest ranks and serve the king. It would have amused him if it hadn't been so gallingly unlikely.
"Abjörn, get me some wine," he ordered irritably.
Abjörn nodded and went to fetch it, allowing Loki enough time to pull a vicious face behind the man's back like a child. It made him feel slightly better, but not by much. He would have to do something about that while he had the chance. Sverrir would definitely support him, and possibly Dag, which would be useful.
Abjörn gave him his wine and knelt behind him to resume his work, "If I may your majesty, are you considering a marriage?"
"I believe it's worth thinking about," said Loki carefully.
"Well, there are many eligible women in this realm who would make fine queens."
"Including your daughters?" asked Loki with a smirk.
"Why of course your majesty, my girls are good and proper, they would make you a fine wife and mother to your children," said Abjörn without a hint of shame. Loki's smirk widened.
"Well, as lovely as I'm sure they are, I think it would be better for Asgard if I married someone like Queen Aetril, or one of her daughters, or the Princess Sigyn," he said, running his fingers through the water. There was a moment where Abjörn stilled and there was silence, then Abjörn leaned in, all but whispering,
"Forgive me your majesty, but I don't think the people would take marriage to an outsider very well."
Loki's hand snapped into a fist and he clenched his teeth, "Why not?"
"Well, those women could try all they want, they'll never be Asgardian," said Abjörn, sounding genuinely sympathetic about it.
"And that's the best thing to be, is it?" asked Loki tightly.
"Well… of course your majesty," said Abjörn, again sounding so very genuine.
"My mother is of Vanaheim, and she is most loved."
"It was different, your father was already married to her when he was crowned. There was little choice in the matter."
Loki drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment before speaking again,
"You know, I believe I am clean." He got out of the bath and said nothing while Abjörn dressed him, quietly seething. He wasn't feeling any better about his behaviour with Sigyn, because he had all but called her a whore for threatening to leave him, because he had ignored her and snubbed her, and allowed her to take the blame for his own hubris. So many times she had reached out to him and he had rejected her. His stomach squirmed as he recalled her face when he had been about as passionate as a bit of wet lettuce about her kisses. His insides squirmed more when he thought about what she had said, that she no longer trusted him as a lover. His seiðr drenched mind had found it ridiculous, but now he was horrified. Trust was the most important thing between them, it was the thing they had grown and nurtured like a plant between them until it was solid and strong as Yggdrasil. Although it wasn't entirely his fault, he had never asked for any of this, he had managed to damage it quite badly, and he knew he had to repair it.
Abjörn finally finished dressing him and stepped back. Loki tugged on his sleeve, then picked up the Crochan Orb and slipped it into a pocket, just in case. It was a reassuring weight as he looked at himself in the mirror.
"Leave me," he ordered Abjörn. Tonight he had shed his usual ceremonial armour for something more form fitting and relaxed. He ran his fingers over his hair, making sure nothing was out of place, then examined his hands. If he looked long enough he could make out the various runes that were under his skin. He inhaled slowly and looked up at his face. In a few minutes he would be standing before Brokkr, whom he had just allowed to be tortured, before Frigga, whom he had banished from the palace after the festival, before Aetril, who knew he was not as in control as he pretended, and before Byleist, his half-brother who definitely suspected something about Loki now that he actually stopped to think about it and realise how dangerous that was.
Loki had to sit down before his legs gave out, breathing hard. This was meant to be his element, but he didn't think he could face any of them, knowing that he was a walking explosion waiting to happen, knowing just how vulnerable he was. Would they notice the difference in him today? Would they find it suspicious? How was he meant to deal with each of these people when his head was all over the place?
He closed his eyes and tried to think. What could he do?
There was nothing to be done about Brokkr –Hel was taking care of him, although just what she would do to ensure his silence, Loki had no idea. Queen Aetril, well he would just have to charm her, and humbly accept her generous offer and do all he could to not look at Berach who no doubt knew all and would throw an insufferable smirk his way. As for Byleist, Loki had no idea what to do about him. He would just have to think on his feet, because he was out of time. Sigyn's display would start as soon as the sun was gone and he would not be late for it. He drew himself up and got to his feet. He could do this. He was Loki Silvertongue, and he was Odinson still, king of Asgard and husband of Sigyn. He could do this.
The guests were all waiting for him in the palace atrium, being attending by Frigga, Sverrir and some servants. Striding up to them, Loki gave them his best smile,
"Good evening my friends, I trust you are all well rested and looking forward to tonight's spectacle."
As one they all looked at him with some surprise, Aetril's lips quirking in a curious smile, Byleist's eyes narrowing in suspicion and Sina and Cadoc looked at him with slightly tilted heads. Frigga just looked alarmed. Loki did not let his smile slip.
"Everything is prepared your majesty," said Sverrir quickly, gesturing to a serving girl who stepped forward with a tray of cups, "The princess has asked that you all drink this, it is a special brew from Vanaheim."
Loki recognised the smell and picked it up at once, as did Aetril and Berach. Cadoc, Byleist and Sina hesitated as Loki realised Brokkr was not among them. What was Hel doing to him?
"What is it?" asked Byleist.
"It is a brew to relax the mind and excite the body," said Sverrir with a wicked grin. "The perfect thing before what we are about to enjoy."
"It will not kill you," said Berach softly, his sharp eyes fixed on Cadoc.
"I would never imagine the darling princess would conceive of such a thing," said Cadoc sharply, grabbing his own cup. Sverrir picked up a cup and offered it to Byleist,
"Your highness, the princess ordered yours be cooled to a more palatable temperature."
Byleist extended a large hand and accepted the cup, "Is that why she queried me about Frost Giant eating habits?"
Loki smirked, "Possibly, but she's innately curious about everything, she would have asked anyway."
"I'm starting to see that," said Byleist, looking hard at Loki again. Loki tried to remember if he had said two words to Byleist properly in all the time he had been here. That would have to be remedied.
"Shall we go?" asked Cadoc, after downing his drink. He already looked a little flushed, his eyes dropping to Aetril's pert little breasts that strained against her dress. Now that he saw them, Loki was having trouble not looking himself as he held the still full cup in his hand. Was it safe to drink this after everything? He decided not and ran his thumb over the rim of the cup, sending its contents away into the nearest river.
"We cannot leave yet," said Aetril with her usual bright smile, "Dear Brokkr is not yet among us."
"Where is the dwarf?" asked Sina, pointedly standing away from Byleist as best he could without being out of the group. Loki glanced at his mother who was standing demurely at his shoulder, she gave him a tiny shrug.
"Perhaps someone should go and find him," he said, knowing there was nothing else he could say. Sverrir instantly ordered a nearby servant to do so.
"Your majesty, I could bring the Ambassador to the field when he is found, if you wish to proceed without him?" said Sverrir as the servant hurried away. Loki spread his hands to his guests,
"What think you?"
"It would be impolite not to wait," said Aetril, her pale eyes fixed on Loki's face.
"He's already impolite for being late," said Sina shortly. Loki chuckled,
"Excellent points, and they put us at a standstill. Stay or go?"
"I believe it is your decision your majesty," said Berach, pulling at his open front shirt so it sat better on his shoulders. Loki inhaled, trying to decide which was the smarter move, when shuffling footsteps made them all look around.
"Brokkr!" cried Aetril as the dwarf lumbered up to them, "You're grey as stone, are you alright?"
The usual red and tanned dwarf was as grey as a goose, his face was drawn and his eyes were sunken in. What in the name of the Yggdrasil had Hel done to him?
"Yes good Brokkr," said Loki in as concerned a voice as he could manage, "You look positively ill. Are you sure you are up for this final night of festivities. I would hate for you to put yourself out, if you are unwell."
Brokkr's eyes flicked up to Loki and it was impossible to miss the absolute terror in them. It went beyond what Frigga had done to him. Brokkr had seen something that had absolutely shattered him.
"I… I am a touch ill your majesty. But I would not miss this night for anything but… but death herself."
Loki smiled and clapped the dwarf on his shoulder, "I am glad to hear it. The princess would be very sad if you missed tonight." He gave a bright smile to everyone, which clearly confused them, "Shall we?"
As he led the way, he beckoned to Sverrir and muttered in his ear,
"How bad have I been the past few days?"
Sverrir inhaled and paused before answering, "It… there will have to be some damage control."
Loki sighed, "Fantastic."
Next Chapter will be pretty much dedicated to Loki and Sigyn's relationship –I just need to figure out how to write non-explicit, tasteful erotic stuff well, -the dancing is especially hard. Hopefully this will be enough until I can figure that out.
Night's Darkness
