"That ring on your finger means nothing," my sister said, glaring at me from across the table.

A mere two days had passed since Loki's surprise proposal. And on the morning of the second day—a great number of celebratory gatherings later—Lilette and I sat on one of the highest towers of Asgard's palace, where it was nice and cool. Despite the niceties we'd managed to exchange, the passing breeze did nothing to alleviate the heated tension that had settled between us.

"I disagree," I said through gritted teeth, wishing Loki were here.

"Unfortunately, yours isn't the opinion that matters—nor is your betrothed. The man in question is my father—" Lilette pursed her lips, catching herself. "I'm sorry—our father."

"I think you had it right the first time," I said, rising from my chair.

This whole thing was pointless. I wasn't sure what I expected when I agreed to meet with her like this, but Lilette had offered me nothing but idle threats. Albeit they were terrifying, but there couldn't have been truth to them—the King couldn't possibly spirit me away from Asgard.

My sister sighed. "Our father—"

"That man is no father to me," I interrupted. "Nor was he a husband to my mother. And if you've come here just to tell me that he's going to make some claim on me, you can take this message back to him—I lived my entire life on the behest of someone else. I will never adhere to that again. I'll end my own life before someone thrusts me back into that pit."

Lilette shot me a pointed look. "He's not going to bring you back to make you a slave, Aila," she said. "You have a blood tie to the King of Niflheim, and to his heir.." A pause of silence. "He's going to kill you, Aila. Not kidnap you. You will die, and then there will be no contentions over who should have the crown. There will be nothing that anyone can do to stop him."

"There's no contention now," I said. "Why on earth would any of the people in your realm accept me as queen, even if I did challenge it?"

"You have blood ties to those Chosen by the Alfather himself," she said. "You're as good as blood-tied to to the throne itself. As it would be for any one of the other realms." She shrugged. "Save for Midgard, I suppose. They have no monarchy."

"What would you have me do?" I balled my hands into fists. "I doubt you're telling me all this out of a newfound sense of sisterly love, so what do you want?"

"You're right, my intentions are strictly selfish." She rose from her chair and approached me, a dark look passing over her features. "I would have you take the crown."

You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. "Excuse me?"

Lilette leaned in. "I would help you get the crown. You would have your freedom, and no one would contest it."

Every fiber in my body screamed in distrust as I stared at her. "Why?" Through all the thoughts swirling around in my head, that was the only response that I could muster.

"Why what?"

Wasn't it obvious? "Why would you give up your own throne?"

Her eyes softened as mine did when I looked into the mirror, plagued by a sad thought rooted deeply in her heart.

"For the same reason you would take it for yourself—I, too, desire my freedom." Her look darkened even further. "I come of age in three months' time—when that happens, I will take the throne or I will not. Our bloodline was appointed by Odin himself, our people will want to see a proper ruler inheriting the crown. One of the Chosen of the nine realms."

I paled at the idea—three months' time was nothing compared to an entire lifetime of what surely consisted of tutors and guides preparing Lilette for queenship. "I'm not a 'proper' ruler, Lilette," I muttered. "It's almost irresponsible to even suggest that I should—"

"You would be a proper ruler if you disposed of the last one."

I blinked. "What?"

"This is the way of Niflheim, among the Chosen—the rising ruler must prove their worthiness by supplanting the last one. If you cannot gain his surrender, you will have to kill him," she said. "I suspect the latter would not fall to me, but…it may to you."

"That's barbaric and makes no sense," I said. "How does killing or supplanting the former ruler make me a better one?"

"It doesn't—it only makes you the stronger one," she said. "Our lands were long partitioned between one lord and another. Warfare is the way of Niflheim, and lands could only be stolen away from one ruler to the next."

"If your lands are making war, then why doesn't someone come and take the throne from the 'Chosen?'" I felt ridiculous just calling it that.

"Well, that's something you could challenge as queen, couldn't you?" Lilette said, silence passing between us. "And there are many more injustices you could address from that position of power—are there really no causes you would commit yourself to, as queen?"

It was like she took a dagger to my heart with that, sending my thoughts spiraling back to all my friends here—all slaves. But how could a queen from another realm help them here, under the Allfather's power?

"I wouldn't know the first thing about ruling…" I managed. "Even if what you're saying is true, I grew up a slave. I don't know the first thing about being royalty."

"I'm sure your prince would happily instruct you," my sister said. "And, besides. Once you have the crown, you would have every resource at your disposal. All that I was offered—you would have it, too. It might be difficult to catch up, granted, but the idea is foolproof."

I couldn't tell if that last part was a joke or not. "Your father would never let this happen," I muttered. "He's going to try to kill me—you said so yourself."

"He won't if you challenge him," she said. "As a member of this bloodline, you are entitled to it. He won't deny the contention, of course—I'm sure he'll think it's likely that he'll kill you within the first five minutes."

"Yes, and he would be correct."

"Not if I help prepare you," she said. "I have a vested interest in this, Aila. You don't seem to be grasping that entirely."

"What is your interest, then?" I crossed my arms. "Why are you so invested?"

Something flashed across her eyes. "All that your prince has done for you—I would do the same for the person I love. Unfortunately, the difference between us is that that person could never rule at my side by any measure of Yggdrasil's laws—instead, they are someone whose very life was threatened when I first refused to seduce one of your princes and bring home a king," she said, her voice a bit hard.

She gave me a venomous look, but I could only stare at her. "What do you mean?"

Lilette smirked. "You are not the only one who knows how to play a role, sister. I know well what I am giving up—a life of lies," Lilette said, the edge of her voice sending chills down my spine—there was an authenticity to it that I'd never seen before. Like this was the real woman behind the facade. "I ask only one thing of you in return, once you have your crown and all the power that comes with it."

"What's that?"

"Protection," she said. "As queen, you could grant me the protection of the royal court. I could travel the realms and be free of my ties to Niflheim."

"And what'll you do if I fail?"

"I will continue what I was brought here to do," Lilette said through gritted teeth. "Won't you at least consider this?"

My mouth opened and closed, but I was afraid to answer it—even if I wanted to consider it, I was afraid to say the words out loud.

Lilette sighed when I said nothing, then looked away with a pained expression. "For heavens' sake, go talk to your prince about it—and whoever else you must consult," my sister said. "But the longer you wait, the faster the clock bears down on us. Our time is finite as it is."

I shook my head. "There's nothing to discuss, Lilette," I muttered slowly. "I understand what you're saying to me, but I can't do this."

She slid me a dark look. "Then we are all doomed."

And with that, she blew past me out of the courtyard.

I stalked up the hallways of the palace, weighed down by my conversation with Lilette. By the severity of our conversation. Earlier, Loki had tried to persuade me to join him for a small luncheon in one of the palace halls, and I was on my way there, now. Heavens only knew if we would get the chance to discuss what'd happened today.

"Aila…"

I stopped in my tracks, recognizing the voice. I turned slowly toward the figure that stood on the opposite end of the hallway, other slaves looking over their shoulders as they passed by—small crates in hand. Watching them now, in the dress I was wearing, was nearly unbearable—though it was child's play compared to staring into Davos's eyes as he approached me with a once-over.

"So, it's true," he mumbled. Silence passed between us for a moment as we stared at one another—so close, but still so far away. "You're marrying him."

I swallowed thickly, loosening my composure as I faced him. "If you're going to ask me how it happened, I don't fully understand it myself."

"I wasn't going to ask you that."

I wasn't sure how to interpret his expression—had no idea how to read the myriad thoughts passing across his eyes. "I know you're still angry with me, but—"

"I'm not angry with you."

I blinked. "What?"

"I'm not angry," Davos repeated, a touch of softness gracing his features. "I understand. Given the choice, I'm not sure I would've chosen me, either."

"It was never about choosing between you two—"

"Wasn't it?" A hint of bitterness.

I reared back a little. "There's things you don't understand about this," I said. "Things about me that're happening, that I'm finding out about one by one—I couldn't leave, not yet."

"But you could leave me here?" he said, gesturing behind him. "Leave us?"

"I haven't left you Davos," I managed to say, though his words cut through me like a knife. "I've been…looking for ways to make amends for—"

"—for abandoning me?"

I pressed my lips together. "It's not that simple. You don't understand—"

"I think I understand just f—"

"Stop interrupting me," I snapped. And the way his eyes fell instinctively to the ground—I almost felt ashamed for a moment. "Don't do that, Davos."

"Do what?" he asked pointedly, still staring at the ground.

"Don't treat me like I'm one of them," I said.

"You are one of them, now."

"How can you even think that?"

His eyes jumped up to mine. "Do I need to list the ways that you will never again be treated as we are?"

"That still doesn't make me one of them," I said. "They don't care about the things I care about."

"And what's that?"

A light scoff. "If you really need to ask me that, I wonder if you ever knew me at all."

"I wonder that too," he said, his voice low. My closest friend, lover at times—now staring at me with a coldness he had never worn before. "Excuse me."

I had no answers to give him, no proof to offer that what I said was true. No good would have come from making him stay, so I merely watched my friend walk away, emboldened and enraged by the pain stirring within me. With my fists clenched tightly at my sides, I turned and continued down the hall, navigating the maze of the palace until I found the doors leading to the chamber where I knew the luncheon was—the smell of wine already wafting into the hallway.

Guards opened the doors for me as I approached, and I strode through them into the hall of pillars and tables laden with food and drink, with servants meandering back and forth with trays of champagne glasses. My skirt hissed against the ground and suddenly became the only sound in the room—multitudes upon multitudes of eyes turning their attention on me. The chattering noise of voices quieted to an utter silence as they stared.

I scanned their faces one by one, feeling naked beneath the weight of their stares. Among the crowd, there was only one pair of eyes that watched me softly, flecks of emerald set against his pale skin. There was an open space at the center of the room, dividing it between the two of us—myself and Loki.

The Prince and the slave.

It struck me, suddenly, that this was the very room that I'd accidentally tipped a tray of food onto him. It was also the room where my mother had died.

There was barely any emotion as Loki peered at me, half-turned away from the group he'd been conversing with. He made no sign of moving in my direction, nothing to indicate that he would come and save me from the awkwardness I felt. Only the slightest arch of his brow—giving the distinct reinforcement that I was to stand on my own two feet, now.

Because I was no longer a slave.

I was no longer the Prince's slave—I was his betrothed. By whatever strange twist of fate or succession of choices that led us both here, we were equals in the eyes of Yggdrasil, just as he'd told me the first night we'd made love.

In the eyes of the laws of Yggdrasil, you are my equal.

My skirt began hissing again as I strode toward him across the room—holding his gaze and emboldened by the approving curve of Loki's lip. As I drew nearer, he turned further and further until he faced me completely. Not a single person spoke—not as I approached him, and not as I drew my hand forward and placed them on either of his shoulders, rising up to kiss him gently. Loki's lips were soft and pliant as they moved quickly—tenderly—against mine, parting with a smile I didn't immediately return. His free hand slid around my waist.

"And where were you this morning?" he purred quietly, his eyes gleaming the way they had last night—all of last night.

I suppressed the rush of heat that rose at the mere thought of it. At the press of flesh and blinding ecstasy. The way his mouth had closed over my breast, explored between my legs—circling rhythmically then plunging in. The way he'd held my wrists above my head, the covers slipping down his back as he rose, driving into me—

I hadn't told him where I'd planned to go the following morning, nor who I'd planned to meet. By the way he watched me now, there wasn't a hint of suspicion—nothing to suggest that he was faulting me for something I shouldn't have been doing. There was nothing but trust.

Trust and freedom, autonomy—my autonomy. Freedom to do whatever it is I wanted.

"Let's talk about it later," I muttered, slowly hearing the voices surrounding us resume. "There's something I need to tell you, later."

He leaned in secretively. "Tell me now, my love."

I took his hand in mine. "Later."

The doors opened again behind me, and I shifted to Loki's side as the Allfather and (rather distressed looking) Allmother entered through them, conversing among themselves—and another figure that strode in beside them. My heart leaped into my chest as I faced Loki, inching toward him instinctively as I heard their footsteps come closer. I could've sworn he suddenly grew taller beside me.

"Don't hide," he whispered in my ear. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."

It wasn't the Allfather or the Allmother I was afraid of. Frigga had unabashedly expressed her great happiness and congratulations to us, and even Odin himself made an obscure statement about it. It was the man I hadn't seen in days now, having decided to make an appearance tonight.

"I'm not ashamed, I'm frightened," I whispered back.

"You've nothing to be frightened of." Loki squeezed my hand.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about…"

His eyes hardened, but it was too late to discuss it further. We were no longer alone. For a moment, it was nothing but an awkward silence as I turned and faced Odin and Frigga—and the King beside them. All the hall had gone silent again, and I couldn't help but wonder if they all knew the history between us.

"Daughter," my father said, making a face like it was vinegar on his tongue. If there was any confusion before among the courtiers, it surely was gone now. A servant approached the party, offering his tray to them. The King exchanged a look with the young man, whose eyes immediately fell to the floor like he was a slave. My father passed two of the glasses to Odin and Frigga, and held a final one out to me.

I stared at it, then him. "No. Thank you."

"Come now, we're both here, aren't we? We must attempt some reconciliation, should we not?" he said, but there was no sincerity in the voice. I ended up taking the glass from him, watching as he raised his to me—and only to me—as though my attention was most important in the entire room. "Tell me, have you seen your sister today?"

Alarm feathered through me, in no small part because of the venomous tone he took. "No, I haven't."

"Strange. I could have sworn she'd promised to meet me here." The King raised his glass. "To your new betrothal, daughter," he said, eyes flashing toward Loki. "My apologies for not extending my congratulations earlier."

"Oh, we hardly noticed," Loki answered with equally veiled disdain, pulling me closer. "Didn't we?"

I met his eyes as Loki sipped his wine, his parents doing the same—with oddly distinct expressions, almost like they felt they were intruding on something. Granted, this was hardly the way I expected my first encounter with the king to go following the proposal, but still…

I could feel his eyes burning holes into the side of my head, even as I stared down at my wine glass.

He's going to kill you, Aila, Lilette had said. You will die, and then there will be no contentions over who should have the crown.

It was gross to consider the King's entitlement to my life, and I wondered if even the Allfather could step in on my behalf, if such a scheme were brought to light. Would he risk unrest between the realms to protect me?

I looked down at the glass, at the liquid swishing around inside. I was the only one who hadn't drunk yet.

I hadn't noticed the servant again until he moved away just then, the red liquid swishing as the rest of the room settled on me. Dozens of eyes staring right at me, though none of them had quite affected me the way that Davos had. The way he looked down to the ground in my presence.

Just as the servant had to the King—

My brow furrowed with a strange realization. The slaves of Asgard were obligated to lower their eyes to the ground in the presence of nobles, but all servants knew that that obligation did not extend to them—in fact, they prided themselves on it. They were the caretakers of the palace, not its prisoners. They all knew that.

I narrowed my eyes as I looked up at my father, who watched me with a smirk. When I looked over, the servant turned abruptly from his backward glance in my direction, beelining across the room.

I held my glass out to the King. "I don't like champagne."

"Oh?" He arched a brow. "I wasn't aware you'd tried it before, given your—circumstances."

I gripped the flute tighter, anger roiling through me. "Is that all you thought my circumstances would bring to fruition? An ignorance over drinks?" I gritted out. "Perhaps ignorance in other areas is more what you anticipated." I thrust the glass closer to him, seidr pouring from my hand. "Why don't you try the champagne first, tell me what tastes to look for before I have my sip?"

The grin that curled over his lip was utter malice. "I can certainly do that for you," he said. "But I have my own glass to sample from—"

"Do you?" I said as he glanced down at his—empty—flute. I pulled back my seidr at that moment, and I could swear I heard the subtle puff of a smirk from Frigga's direction. "Well, go on, father, have some of mine."

His expression grew cold with distaste, and he didn't move.

"Drink," I ordered, magic flowing through the air from my lips. All the room grew quiet. There was a twitch of movement—the slightest flinch—as my father's hand rose to my glass, his eyes never leaving mine. The flute lifted from my hand to his mouth, the golden liquid slowly tipping upward.

"Actually—" He stopped, surprise coming over him as I took back the glass and held it between both hands. "I think I'd prefer the surprise," I said, "I do appreciate it, though, father—how you dote on me, already."

A finger suddenly drew across my neck, Loki tucking one of the strands of hair back with a subtle look of pride and approval. The King said nothing as I took a single step closer to him, lowering my voice, seidr coating it a little so only the closest company could hear—could feel the wrath in my voice. "If we're going to try to kill each other," I all but growled, "it should be worth something, don't you think?"

If looks could kill, the one he shot me should have dropped me dead. Once upon a time, it very well might have—but I was not that girl, anymore. I no longer lived just to survive, and I'd had one too many brushes with death to be fearful of a little poison.

And with the soft reminder of the seidr running through my veins—of all that I had been taught, that I had learned—I realized that I didn't need anyone's permission. I needed no one's council. Before me stood either an opportunity or a sentence—one that no one could change or influence. My life had been guided to this point by the man who would become my husband as well as many others—but from here, its direction would be entirely of my own doing. Not even a husband could change that.

No one but me.

"What do you say, father?" the words plumed out like venom with every breath. "Let's make it worth a crown."

Lilette would need protection, I realized at that moment. Before she even left Asgard, I would need to ensure her safety—if not death, then from punishment.

I smiled at my father's wrathful gaze, remembering how Lilette had smiled—how she'd played her part, and wore it like an achievement. "You know, I'm quite partial to the winter solstice, you know," I crooned charmingly as I looked to the side, as though perusing the would-be audience I imagined would appear that day, as well. "How about it, father? Are you up for a little challenge?"

Not. A single. Movement.

His lips peeled back with the greatest effort I'd ever seen it take a person to smile. "Of course," he ground out. "Daughter."

I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Take however sorry you think I am, and multiply it by a thousand. :( I swear, I never stopped reading all your wonderful comments, and really really never intended to take this long to finish the story. I will never abandon it, I swear. These last few months just got...so hard.

(read on for my stupid sob story-otherwise, I will see you next week!)

Basically lost the job that was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Currently going through a months-long breakup with someone I've dated for a decade and known for half my life (love's really hard to write about atm). Grad school and mental health went into the toilet, I became severely agoraphobic... but I finished my IRL book, so that's a plus! I'm querying agents like a crazy person now and working on my next novel (faerie enemies-to-lovers yaaay). Already got rejected by my dream agent, but I revised and am trying again, soooo... kinda moving forward, still kinda dead on the inside.

I'm still planning on finishing this within the next two months. Lately I've been privately writing a Hogwarts story for my own escapism/mental health, about the "next" Tri-Wizard tournament. Featuring romance with aged up characters (headcanon college-level because I'm an adult now, I don't feel comfortable writing romance about young characters). Mostly for my future self, because Hogwarts/Harry Potter is my comfort place and I often go back and reread my books for highly-specific escapism lol, but I'll post it up here sometime soon too, mostly because it'll be a good medium to read from later on. Maybe it'll make someone feel better someday, too.

Man, I overshare so much in these ANs lol. I always found it fun when my favorite authors did it, though. Anyways, I hope you guys are all doing well. Sorry again for the delay. And for oversharing. Wherever you are on the other side of this screen, I'm wish you happy holidays and an awesome new year as I type this. :) Til next time!