Three days had gone by since Loki had last seen Aila, since she manifested in his chambers. As requested, she'd kept her distance—as was needed. Loki would rather have had her hidden away as he planned the next couple of days, instead of having her traverse the hallways where she might encounter the king of Niflheim once more.

He rounded the corner, into the courtyard where his intended company was spending the afternoon. A gentle harp played in the corner of the yard, servers walking around in billowing white gowns. Glancing around at the gardens surrounding the tables, Loki recalled the last time he'd taken guests here—when Althar had drenched Aila wholly with that soup, and followed up with a repugnant attempt to assault her.

His pulse ticked at the memory, then calmed as he approached one of the tables. All at once, six pairs of eyes snapped up toward him.

"Forgive my tardiness," he said as Frigga, Odin, Thor, Lilette, the King Veris, and some advisor looked his way. Lilette seemed pleased at his arrival, albeit a bit reluctant after their last encounter. "I lost track of the time."

"That's alright," said Frigga as she patted him on the shoulder, looking a bit dismayed—as though he'd just joined an unpleasant conversation. "We were just discussing some…educational reforms in Niflheim."

"Reforms?" Loki said, turning to the king.

King Veris sat back in his chair, gesturing to the man beside him. "My consul, Ragar, has drawn it all up. I've entrusted him to organize relations in the coming future, to bring children to Asgard from our most noble families in reforming magical education."

Loki furrowed a brow, glancing at Frigga as she donned a particularly dour look. "I don't understand," he said. "What do the children of Niflheim have to do with reforming education in Asgard?"

Ragar leaned forward. "It's not about your manner of teaching the craft," he said. "It is merely the opinion of the people of Niflheim that magic should not be reserved to the occupants of the First Realm."

"And it is the opinion of the First Realm that those who study the nuances of magician-ship should do so at their own peril," Odin said calmly. "There is no reason for us to be responsible for the upbringing of young practitioners in another realm."

In the corner of his eye, Thor slid Loki a terse look. Understanding slowly blanketed him as he realized the nature of the conversation he'd just joined—the razor's edge that they were walking upon.

"Do you practice magic, King Veris?" Loki asked.

A muscle ticked in the Veris's jaw. "No, young prince. I do not."

His eyes narrowed. "But you would like to."

"There are many things that I would like," Veris said.

Oh, yes. He surely wanted many things—such as the ability to fortify his courtiers with magic. The war of the realms had been ended with a treaty, and Niflheim was the last to fall into agreement at the behest of the realms. Over time, the study of seidr would not remain among the noble classes alone, and Niflheim was unstable enough as it was without another layer of means to challenge Asgard—a fact that, judging by his expression, Odin was fully aware of.

Loki's eyes swept to the Allfather, sipping wine and popping a grape into his mouth. For a brief moment, he almost felt sorry for the old man—even now, he was toeing the edge of another war with another realm, and he was oh-so practiced at displaying a cold front in the face of peril.

"I wonder," Loki began, looking toward the king. "You must have some understanding of magic to conceive of its usefulness. Have you known someone who practiced?"

"Yes," Veris stated vaguely, taking a sip of his wine. "And I would have my daughter become one such person who is versed in the subject."

He'd known at least one person—and who might that be?

"A prospect she favors as well," the king said, turning to his daughter. "Don't you, darling?"

A tiny smile cracked the edge of Lilette's lip. "Power for the sake of power is how the ruling classes keep their subjects in order," she said. "Of course that knowledge would be invaluable."

Frigga cleared her throat, and took another bite of her tart. Should Lilette ever successfully attain this goal, it would be a sour discovery to be told on the very first day of class that magic was an extension of oneself—not a means for gaining a new power that was never granted to her.

"Knowledge for the sake of power yields the makings of a wise ruler," Odin said, reiterating that rule. "Power for the sake of power is the last resort of a monarch who's lost the respect of his people."

"You would know all about that…" Thor mumbled under his breath.

All eyes fell on him, but the Allfather merely sipped his wine as though it hadn't happened. Only in the terse way that he set the goblet down was there any indication of the rage simmering beneath his skin.

"I would know all about instilling fear, my son," he said. "And instating consequences upon those who challenge the laws of Yggdrasil."

"Your laws, you mean?" Thor said bitterly, and Loki's brows rose at his brother's bold tactlessness—for once, he appreciated it.

"You know, this wine is delicious," Frigga cut in, smiling at King Veris—whose curious eyes roved back over to her. "You brought it from Niflheim, did you? Your lands must be rich with agriculture to create such a product."

"Yes, contrary to public perception," Veris said. "Niflheim is quite green. We adhere to the highest standards of upkeep."

She smiled. "Your people must be very grateful to you for that."

"We strive to keep the inhabitants of our realm fed and satisfied. The gladder our residents, the more loyalty we foster among them."

Loki bit back a smirk. Those words were a pretty depiction to hide an ugly picture, perhaps coached by his advisor to paint the image of diplomacy. The ruthless savagery—the 'loyalty'—with which the armies of Niflheim fought was precisely what made them so dangerous.

"Do you offer land and subjects to your noble families?" Loki asked as he sipped his wine, stifling a grimace—the wine was putrid.

"Yes," said the King. "Niflheim is very large, and I cannot possibly see to subjects at the furthest reaches of my kingdom. I suppose the mountains of Asgard do not level enough for such an arrangement to take place?"

"No," Loki answered with a pointed chuckle. "Our 'arrangements' are quite different."

"How do you mean?"

"You might say that the serving classes of our palace adhere to their own system of authority," he said with a casual lilt. "The servants answer to the noble classes, and slaves answer to all of the above—though the latter rarely deigns to spare a sentiment in their direction."

Veris pinched his brows, amusement sprawling across his features. "And yet, I've heard that you have done so."

"Yes, I believe you've met my serving woman," Loki said joyously. "She's quite the remarkable character—I expect she deserved to be struck to the ground?"

The light smile faded from Veris's expression, the mood around the table shifting.

"Y-Your words speak of high expectations," Lilette said, cutting in with a hint of desperation. "You don't mean to imply that a creature with no education, no prospects or training in the graces of nobility could merit such praise?"

"She is not a creature," Frigga cut in, the sharpness in her gaze dispelling the softness of her voice. "I find her to be very intelligent and likable, for all that she is—exactly as she is."

"As do I," Thor said pointedly. "Aila is a wonderful person."

"Aila?" the king murmured tautly at the older prince. "Is that her name?"

"It is," he answered. "Quite the gentle name, at that—just as she is."

"Aila is not gentle when she needs to be," Loki said, answering his brother's glance with an appreciative smile. "She bleeds when she is hurt and then smiles so that you don't shed a tear on her behalf."

"Or trouble yourself with an impossible matter that she means to handle alone," Frigga added.

"I did not realize you were all so well acquainted," Odin cut in tersely.

Loki looked up, seeing Ragar's curious expression before looking back at the Allfather. "Perhaps we ought to invite her to our next luncheon, so that you may see these things for yourself."

"Absolutely not," said Odin.

Veris's gaze was fixed upon his plate, Lilette had gone utterly pale. Slowly, the king pushed back from the table. "If you'll excuse me, I have matters to attend to."

Loki narrowed his eyes as their entire company rose, Ragar and Lilette scurrying to trail after their king, tossing a quick 'goodbye' to the table before following him across the courtyard.

"You three…" Odin said as he followed suit, tossing a napkin onto his plate. His voice deeper and more menacing now that they were alone. "Should you ever speak another word to Veris or his subjects, there will be dire consequences."

Loki sat back, tossing one leg over the other. "Now, how am I supposed to marry that princess if I can't speak to her?" he said, and Odin's eye snapped toward him in shock. "What, you think I haven't noticed all the hints she's dropped?"

"Silence," Odin said. "You'll say nothing."

Loki pressed his lips together, wondering how much the Allfather knew—whether he'd decided that the risk of exposing Niflheim's lost princess wasn't worth the risk of losing an alliance. Was he even aware that Lilette had come here with those intentions?

He watched as Odin left, disappearing through the archway he himself had come from. For his part, over the last few days, Loki's suspicions had run high. Now, he was all but certain.

Frigga and Thor met his stare, looking equally disconcerted. Slowly, his expression fell as well.

"It is true, isn't it?" Loki said darkly, looking between them.

They knew what he meant, and Frigga was the first to cast her gaze down to the plate, touching the edge. "I'm afraid there's no room for doubt," she said. "By Lilette's appearance alone, I'd have thought that Aila was sitting at the table." Sadness touched her face. "She has her father's eyes…"

"What do you think will happen to her?" Thor asked, worry lacing his tone. "Where do we go from here?"

"I suspect she will need the three of us before the end," said Frigga. "For whatever dangers the king will send her way, she will need our help."

"And she will have it," said Loki. "To think of all that blood spilled throughout her life—the blood of a princess dressed in rags."

Silence swept over the table as his words sank in.

"But she doesn't know that." Frigga shuddered. "And to think of the violent ends that this may lead to…"

"If we play our cards right, that won't happen."

"How?" She looked at him. "How can you predict that?"

"Come now, mother…" Loki smiled sadly, wishing he had more to say—something sharp to quip. "We'll think of something."

Cloaking spells were difficult to master, but judging by the two satchels of supplies hidden beneath my bed, I'd managed to master it. Food would be a difficult thing to come by once we were out, but as soon as Davos was well enough to travel, the small amount of dried fruits and meats that I'd collected would last us at least a day outside of Asgard.

Nighttime had fallen, and nearly everyone was back at the catacombs. Davos was already asleep, and Dina and Eros sat nearby. Guilt rang through me each time I looked in their direction from my bed, the small pit of fire flickering against their faces. Months had gone by since their wedding, since I had given a speech at the ceremony—and spoken of trust and friendship and love. Now, I was going to leave them behind for the time being.

In the morning, Davos and I would smuggle ourselves out along the trade route to Vanaheim. Cloaking objects was easy—people were another matter. It was an intense struggle to cover Davos the other night when we had practiced, so we agreed with Dina and Eros that they would wait until the news of two escaped slaves dissipated and follow us after. Wherever we ended up, we would meet at the nearest village of the first transfer point in Vanaheim.

Of course, they didn't know about our magical advantage…and guilt had torn me apart for it. I had no way of knowing what would happen when they tried to leave without it, especially if they chose to bring others along with them. Unless the village was to our liking, we would wait one month before moving on, before losing hope that they would join us anytime soon.

I ran my hands through my hair, propping my knees onto my elbows as I closed my eyes and sighed. Loki's face appeared in my mind once more, just as it always had. Throat constricting, tears rose furiously at the image of him—his back turned toward me, eyes cast in some distant place that I could never reach. The last threads of attachment would be the hardest to cut, through the mass entanglement of thoughts, conversations, kindnesses and fleeting bouts of touch between us. I would leave Asgard, declare myself to Davos if he asked, and never see the prince's face again.

Perhaps someday, I would even forget it. When I was far from Asgard and all its poisons—both literal and figurative—I would be free to bear children and look upon their faces, to see the love and brightness of a future in their eyes. And I would forget, because my heart would be full.

"You look troubled," said a feminine voice. My eyes snapped up to the boots that had appeared before me soundlessly, roving up the ragged clothes until I reached green eyes.

"L—" I stammered, heart racing. "Lydia?"

It was Loki—in his slave form. Lydia.

Tall and slender and elegant as ever, she peered down at me. "Only a few days away, and you're already crying?"

"What are you doing here?" I said, standing from my bed as she strode toward me slowly, a deadpan look splayed across her features.

"I told you I would call when it was time," she said. "Don't you remember?"

"Time for what?" my voice rose slightly with agitation.

Her green eyes fell to my lips, then to the company still awake around the nearby fire pit. Dina picked up on the sound of my voice, furrowing a brow.

"Perhaps we could talk about this elsewhere," Lydia murmured. "Alone."

Pain tightened in my chest as I stared up at her, unaffected by the hardness in those eyes. Somewhere in the ruins of my heart, I was happy to see Loki again—even though, in less than a few days' time, he'd would learn of my disappearance from the comforts of his chambers. Perhaps deigning to let the news settle with with some maid or noblewoman.

I looked around at the dark cavern, then back at Lydia. Dread and anxiety had already coiled tightly within me, ready for the whirlwind that this conversation held in store. "Fine,' I said, nodding soundlessly as I brushed past her.

Footsteps fell in tow behind me as I led us out of the cavern, down some crumbling tunnels and into the infirmary—or what was passably written off as one. A mountain creek was our only source of water down here, and the space was built around it strategically to care for our wounded. Several fresh beds and tables were scattered throughout the area, with the barest supplies that I had yet to—minimally—raid.

I closed and locked the wooden door behind us, guilt rising again as I peered down at the pitiful resources my people would be left with. A simple roll of gauze and stilts at every table. No disinfectant. Empty bottles to collect the water trickling nearby, glinting in the light of the sparse torches.

And then there was Lydia, strolling leisurely to the edge of the stream. "Don't they worry about the quality of the water?" she murmured quietly as I approached from behind, her dark silhouette framed by the light of a single torch hanging above the creek. "Doesn't it pass through the city's sewage?"

"No," I said, coming up beside her. A flash of green, and Loki appeared again in his true form, peering at me with no expression, a dark cloak covering his decidedly ordinary apparel. "This water comes from the mountains."

Silence.

"I suppose they have to keep you all alive if you're to be of any use," he said quietly.

I fell silent, swallowing thickly. "Why did you come here?"

"I told you," he said. "I would call on you when it was time to return."

"Why?" I said, my voice rasping a bit. "I don't understand why that time would ever come again."

Loki was silent for a moment, then faced me. "What's there to understand about it?"

"This arrangement can't be easier for you than it is for me." It was a struggle to keep calm, to keep my voice from betraying the pit of despair it rang from. "To see me—like this." I gestured to my surroundings. "You've seen me bleed here, you've watched me starve. You've watched others abuse me. You know you can't stop it, so why? Why do you insist on hurting us both?"

His lips parted slightly. "Does it hurt you to see me?"

The reservoir of sadness within me ruptured just a little at that moment—the moment I opened my mouth to answer. Tears pooled in my eyes, flowing over the edges as I turned away from him, scowling as I stifled a gasp. Wiping my hand clear across my face, I turned back to him. "What do you think?"

His green eyes glinted in the torchlight, roving up and down the length of me. "I wonder—if you could see me with another pair of eyes, would you feel this way?"

I furrowed a brow. "What're you talking about?"

Loki faced me. "If you were not a slave," he said. "And my kindnesses were not held against a backdrop of such cruelty—would you feel the same way about me?" His fingers rose to wipe away my tears mechanically, pausing against my skin without a hint of softness—as though he'd had a second thought—and dropped down to his side as he turned away. "In either case, you're right."

I sighed, loosening some of the tension. "About what?"

"That this isn't easy." His were eyes fastened to the stream, voice dropping low. "I couldn't tell you when it became difficult."

"So stop," I said, voice tight. "Stop before this ends badly—or in death, in my case."

"You will not die," Loki said suddenly, eyes flaring up to me. "If I have any say in the matter, you will never face death in Asgard."

My shoulders dropped. "You know you can't prevent that."

"Maybe I can't—but I've found something that can."

I furrowed a brow. "…what?"

Loki faced me, expression steely with conviction. "I found your father, Aila."

My throat clenched, eyes widening. "W-What?"

"The King of Niflheim," he said, "is your father."

I stared at him, mouth agape. Slowly but surely, my thoughts began reeling through the memory of everything my mother said about my father—how he was a horrible, abusive man, how she ran to save my life and hid in another realm. Though in the end, the war had taken both our lives in ways she'd never expected.

"That horrible man?" I stammered. "It can't be. That—that would mean—"

"It would mean that royal blood is coursing through your veins," he said, canting his head around the infirmary. "That that same blood was spilled within these halls."

My head shook slowly as I looked up at him, trailing down his angular features—his jaw, his neck. In all the realms of Yggdrasil, I couldn't conceive of one where we could be the same. Equals in station. "This can't be true…"

Loki pressed his lips together, brow creasing as he stepped toward me. "I asked you to stay here for your safety," he said, "because I couldn't predict how these next few days would pass. I came here tonight to retrieve you—because yes, I was unafraid of the pain that it would bring you to see me again. To hear all this. Because now, I have means with which to protect you."

Shock rooted me in place, eyes wide as Loki stopped a breath away from me, his hands appearing on my waist.

"I will tell you everything, Aila," he said. "And you will be as certain as I am. You will understand that this place—these clothes—" he pinched my shirt, "depict your station just as well as they do mine. I am a prince of Asgard, and you are a princess of Nilfheim." Fresh tears streamed from my eyes as he studied me, tension pulling at the muscles in Loki's jaw and neck. The tips of our noses barely touched as some unreadable emotion shone in his eyes. "In the eyes of the laws of Yggdrasil, you are my equal."

A steady hand pulled my hair back from my face as I stared at him. My tears slid onto it as it pulled forward to my jaw, the tears cooled by the tendrils of Loki's breath against my skin. "What…does that mean?"

His face seemed taut, uncertain as his brow furrowed slightly. "It means—a lot of things. "

A shudder escaped me as I raised my hands to his shoulders, and Loki pulled back—stopping as I gripped the collar of his cloak lightly. "What does it mean to you?"

He paused, thinking it over. "It means that I have reason to be unafraid."

"Of what?" I whispered.

Those emerald eyes fluttered, then fell to my lips. "Of—" he paused again. "Of the things I want."

"From me?"

"From you."

My hands relaxed, pulling against his collar. Loki leaned in ever so slowly, brows furrowed as his soft lips caressed mine. One hand rose up my back, the other tangling through my hair, and my knees weakened as I leaned against him. One move after another, I speared my fingers through his dark locks while my heart raced.

Loki paused briefly, my eyes opening to see his gaze flicker toward the bed standing just a few feet away. My right foot shuffled back a step in response, his following reluctantly until my knees touched the side of the bed. My hand lowered to his neck, pulling him down with me onto the blanket. The mattress was just as hard as mine was, but it didn't matter at that moment—not as Loki's hands trailed every curve and crevice of my body, his lips caressing mine as he'd truly never allowed them to before.

I tugged at my shirt, Loki paused, pulling back to look at me.

"Take it off," I whispered, his eyes lidding as a hand appearing beneath mine, gripping the shirt.

One by one, each article of clothing slid from both our bodies, my breaths turning ragged as he kissed down my neck. Eyes closed, I tilted my head back against the pillow as his lips dragged over my skin, relishing the touch. I gasped sharply, eyes popping open as his lips suddenly closed over my breast, kissing and sucking as the rest of him shifted between my legs. Loki caught the tip gently between his teeth before returning to my lips, his tongue darting out to brush against mine.

My breath hitched as I felt him position at my entrance. My legs rose along his sides as he gripped my hip, his other hand back in my hair. The tears hadn't even dried completely, and yet, this was finally happening—

Loki groaned as I bit down on his lip gently, trembling beneath him as he slid inside me. Tendrils of pleasure and friction accompanied the fullness of him. I gasped as I released his lip, Loki's expression pinching as he looked down at me, pulling back to thrust again. There was no control, none of that iron-clad composure left in his eyes as he slid in again—and again, and again. After months of waiting and desire, stealing glances and gentle kisses in the shadows.

I broke away from his lips, stealing a breath of air as his thrusts grew harder and faster. My heart pounded wildly inside its cage as I gasped, clutching his neck as I moaned. The hand that had been on my hip swept into the air as, an unstable sheen of seidr coating us—the same that he had used to hide the sight and sound of us in the cavern. With one particularly sharp thrust and rapturous gasp in his ear, the rising spell dropped like a curtain. Something of a deep, frustrated groan vibrated against my neck, that same hand falling back to my my hip.

And I wanted—more.

"L-Loki—"

The thrusts slowed as he rose to look at me through lidded eyes. "What?" his voice came breathlessly.

"Harder," I squeaked.

His nose crinkled briefly as he rose further onto his knees, letting go with obvious relish. My hand flew to my mouth, stifling the sounds escaping me. Something tight coiled in my abdomen as he pounded hard against me in the greatest, most rapturous pleasure ever to be inflicted on my body.

"I—I'm going t-to—" I gasped as his thrusts grew even harder, and I came fast and hard as his hand gripped me bruisingly.

Sweat coated the entirety of my skin as he pounded into me one last time, groaning as he slammed into me to the hilt. The breath rushed out of me as we both collapsed against the bed, and for a time, the sound of the trickling stream was broken only by our labored breathing—my hands snaked around his shoulders, his hot breath warming my skin.

I stared up at the cavernous ceiling, relishing the lingering pleasure as Loki's arm tightened around me, his other hand trailing down my body. "Aila," he rasped against my neck, then murmured something quietly.

I furrowed a brow. "What?" The word came out in a chuckle.

Loki's arms shuddered as he rose slowly, kissing me again before resting his forehead against mine. "I said…" his voice vibrated, his breath fanning my cheeks, "we were born to be lovers."

Thank you all for the continued support. It means all the realms of Yggdrasil. :) See you next time.