Chapter Six - Acceptance Isn't Resignation

Maysa sat at the foot of the twins' bed, reading a story to them when Loki stepped into the doorway. The slouch of his tall frame and tight, conflicted expression hinted that the talk with her father had not gone well. Her heart sank, the weight of her disappointment settling into her stomach.

"One more," Magali begged when Maysa stood, closing the book.

Malae reached for her. "Don't go."

Maysa accepted their hugs and kissed the warm skin of their sunburned faces. "You'll see me soon," she promised, putting on a brave face.

The girls nodded, settling back against their pillows.

"Bye Loki!" Malae said and Magali repeated.

He tried to smile, but couldn't quite form it. There was a sad fondness in his tone as he wished the girls a good night.

Maysa joined Loki in the hallway. She knew she was right, so it wasn't meant as a question when she said, "He wouldn't do it."

"I'm going. You can stay, if you want."

This offer stung her already sensitive feelings. Why wouldn't she go with him?

"What did my father say?"

His gaze fell. "You should hear it from him — not me."

Lady Silva stepped into the hallway. She gave Loki and Maysa an insightful, embarrassed frown and gestured for them to come with her. When they entered the parlor, they found Antus and the five oldest of Maysa's sisters seated together, sharing the day's events. The group quieted and the sovereign grew uneasy as he interpreted his wife's expression.

"You want to do this now?" he asked.

Silva gave him a determined nod.

"I should go," Loki whispered to Maysa. "This is family business."

Maysa took his hand. She wanted him to stay with her, but was afraid from the determination in his gaze that he'd refuse if she asked.

Loki gave her a moment to speak, but she couldn't get her mind, heart and mouth to agree. So, with her hesitation, he withdrew his hand, turned and headed for the door, leaving without an indication of when or even if he intended to return.

With reluctance, Maysa took a seat next to Danna and Arianne, the youngest of those present at fourteen and twelve-years of age.

"Are you angry, Father?" Arianne asked. "Did you send Loki away?"

Antus remained respectful, though he seemed agitated by the question. "He left of his own accord."

Danna looked distressed as she asked, "He doesn't want to marry Maysa now?"

Collective eyes fell on Maysa, worsening the tightness in her chest. Her face flushed and her ear tips ached as she said, "He never wanted to."

This urged more questions from the girls, but Silva shushed them. She insisted to her husband, "Tell us the truth — all of it."

The most frightening and unimaginable words came from their father's lips. He told them of the discovery two years ago that he had been poisoned. The subtle toxin settled into his heart, weakening and continuing to deteriorate its tissues. In the time since, he'd spent nearly the entire treasury in search of a cure to save his life, but for naught. The doctors didn't expect him to last another year.

By marrying Maysa, Loki would be eligible to rule Zanjira when Antus passed away. Loki was expected to train and groom Aric, but it would be up to Silva to decide when the boy was ready to take over.

"Your mother and I need everyone's help," the sovereign said, his stoic gaze sweeping each tearful face. "Maysa and Loki will need you too."

"When will you tell Aric and the others?" Nyssa, the eldest, asked, wiping at her eyes.

"It would be best, I think," Silva said, "if we wait until it becomes obvious that your father isn't well. They are too young to be burdened with this."

The girls agreed that they would keep the secret.

"When will Loki come back?" Nyssa asked, stepping over to put her arm around the sobbing, inconsolable Danna.

"Probably not until he must," Antus said. "He has a lot to think about."

"Loki is nice," Arianne told her father, "but I want you."

He reached out for Arianne, drawing her into his lap and embrace so she could openly sob on his shoulder.

Unable to express the strange churning of her thoughts and emotions, and overcome with a desire to escape, Maysa evaded the others to get out to the hallway. Her mother followed, however, gathering Maysa in a loving hold.

Silva promised, "Loki will return."

Maysa sniffled. "Maybe he doesn't want to live in Zanjira and clean up Father's mess."

"Be respectful," Silva gently rebuked.

"No," Maysa said, her anger flaring. "Father doesn't really want help, Mother, or he would have asked earlier. He wants obedience… and I don't feel he deserves it from me right now."

Silva looked stunned and hurt, but Maysa was too mad to care. She walked away to find a place to be alone until bedtime.

Maysa awoke to being shaken by a frantic Nyssa, who had a tight hold on her. She scanned the surroundings with confusion. They were in the courtyard, it was early morning — the sun not quite peeking over the horizon — and they were both still in nightdresses.

"What happened?" Maysa had to ask when her brain failed to comprehend the situation.

"You were sleepwalking."

Silva and Antus had been alerted and met up with them and a few curious servants in the entry as Nyssa guided Maysa back inside the keep.

"Sleepwalking?" Antus said, also confused by the explanation.

Silva touched her hand to Maysa's forehead and cheeks. "Are you ill?"

Maysa pulled back, having become more oriented and steady on her feet, though irked by their attention. "No, I'm fine!" she insisted and moved around them to the stairs. "Leave me alone."

Later the twins wandered into her room, asking for her to braid their hair.

"Where's Loki?" Magali wanted to know.

"He went home."

"He didn't want to play?" Malae suggested.

Their innocent inquiries wounded her. "Something like that."

The next four days proved terribly long with few activities that could hold Maysa's focus. She avoided the family as much as possible, because they kept mentioning Loki and seemed agitated with her negative shift in attitude. Also, her parents tried to blame Maysa's moods on a sickness or too much sun rather than the obvious injustice set upon her by Antus.

Maysa retired early most nights, but didn't sleep well. In her dreams she was lost in a dark forest. Someone called for her, promising safety, and she eagerly searched for them, not wanting to be alone and afraid.

Another morning, Maysa woke to find herself out in the stables. Antus had grabbed her, but Nyssa stood nearby, wringing her hands as Maysa sorted through her muddled state. The sovereign ordered the servants to send for the doctor, and she was once again tucked into bed.

The doctor arrived in the early afternoon. He examined Maysa, but found nothing physically wrong with her. "I think your mind is overburdened with worry," the doctor told Maysa while Antus and Silva listened. "I realize there isn't much that can be done considering your circumstances, but do rest and allow the family to distract you from your troubles."

The next day, Maysa put forth more effort to interact, which pleased the little ones.

"I'm going to write Loki a letter," Saeli, the eight-year old, confided as they worked on her penmanship. "I'll tell Loki you miss him so much that you look for him when asleep," she rambled, "and that we're going to be nice if he comes back, and he doesn't have to change into animals for us if he doesn't want to."

Maysa forced a smile because Saeli's intent was sweet, even if somewhat upsetting. "In Asgard I met a great warrior named Heimdall who can see and hear anyone he wishes in the nine realms. Perhaps if you called his name and asked him nicely, he would give Loki your message."

The girl's eyes brightened. She had Maysa repeat the name then rushed out.

Within minutes Saeli gathered several of the siblings in the playroom. Maysa wandered down to listen in the doorway as the children took turns at the window, staring out at the night sky. They spoke to Heimdall, sharing the dearest of sentiments and making promises that they hoped would reach Loki's ears.

The game wasn't complicated, yet Loki stared at the cards, aware that the other players had been waiting for him awhile already. His third, or maybe fourth, drink was nearly gone, and he had been losing money as fast or faster than winning it.

A broad shadow fell over the table.

"We're full," the troll on Loki's left barked.

"I don't want to play," said Thor's familiar, condescending tone. "Come on, Loki. We're leaving."

Loki glanced up, surprised and irritated that his brother had managed to track him down in the vast city under the mountain. "Do you mind?" he snapped. "I don't have to be anywhere until the first of fall."

Thor hesitated, his imposing frame and stern glare easing with guilt. He pulled up a chair from a neighboring table and sat between Loki and a glaring goblin. "Fine. Finish your game," he uttered and stole the last gulp of Loki's beverage.

This did not help Loki's concentration. He threw down his cards, wearily stating, "I'm out." Then he stole back his mug, scooped up the last of his coins and headed for the bar.

Thor joined him, managing not to criticize when Loki ordered another drink. In fact, he got himself one. "Tell me about it," he requested, watching the room.

Loki laughed because it was beneath him to cry in front of thieves and cutthroats. "The part when I found out Father sold me to Antus?" he asked. "Or, that the elf's dying and expects me to save his impoverished sovereignty from annihilation?"

After a respectful pause, a weighty, "Oh," was all Thor offered.

Sipping his drink, Loki squelched his anger before continuing. "Antus tried to soften the blow by complimenting my abilities. I'm supposed to be flattered that he wants me to rule his people instead of you."

Thor turned to him. "Why didn't he want me?"

"Apparently you're overly trustful." Loki noted Thor's narrowed gaze and decided to tease him a bit. "Besides, you have that wide forehead and your jaw is much too square. Breeding you with an elf could have hideous results."

Thor gave him a nudge with his shoulder, glowering and chuckling at once. "You're intolerable."

"I know."

They sat in silence, taking the time to finish their drinks.

Thor paid the barkeep. He asked Loki, "Can we go home now?"

Loki scanned the tavern and its monstrous patrons. His mind felt dull and interest gone. "If we must."

Sunrise threatened when they walked into Loki's suite and found the waiting Odin, looking cross.

"Father," Thor pleaded, "don't yell at him. Please?"

"I am not here to argue," Odin said, his tone harsh despite his claim.

"Then you should leave," was Loki's snide response. "Because I do wish to yell and argue."

Thor closed his eyes, clenching his fists and shaking his head with exasperation. He addressed them both. "Can't you try listening to each other? This one time? Without a mediator?"

"That will do," Odin said to Thor. "You've found him and made your point. Get some rest."

The brothers exchanged knowing looks. Loki shrugged. There was no reason for Thor to remain and further agitate the situation.

Loki turned back once Thor was gone. His head was hurting and civility would be difficult. He rubbed at his brow and settled into his study chair.

Odin moved to take the opposite. It was an odd sight, his father's broad, distinguished frame seated at the small table with him.

"I'm listening," the king said.

"My destiny is being rewritten to fit another man's ideal, and I have no recourse other than death or prison."

Odin studied Loki, his features darkening with disappointment. "Why do you choose to see only the less favorable aspects of this situation?"

"Choose? You sold me to Antus. I have no choice!" Loki clenched his teeth, blinking back tears before muttering, "And neither does Maysa."

"You toss out her name as a mere afterthought. You selfishly cast her off so you could cavort through the realms and wallow in your sorrows."

Loki's heart stung at this accusation. "She needed to be with her family."

"Perhaps. Heimdall insists that all the sovereign's children want you to return — especially Maysa."

Loki stared at the tabletop, his wet eyes blurring and stinging.

With a mindful tone, Odin said, "There are some who believe you don't have the compassion or willingness to sacrifice that it will take to be a good King of Asgard."

Loki was puzzled. "Thor is your successor."

"And if he should die someday without a son old enough to rule?"

"We both know that is a minute possibility." Most of the kingdom's women would bed his brother if Thor felt so inclined.

"Surely Antus thought the same. He offers a chance to prove that you can put others before yourself and lead a nation to prosperity. It is my hope that you will get past your anger and embrace this opportunity."

When Loki did not answer or meet his gaze, the king stood. He stepped to Loki's side, placing his strong hand upon his shoulder.

"I have faith that you will rise to the challenge, Son."

Igus entered when King Odin left, bringing Loki some food, an elixir for his headache and running bathwater for him. The old man went about his tasks, knowing from experience just the right moments to speak or be silent to avoid provoking Loki's anger.

"I'm going to rest a few hours," Loki told him after a long, conflicted soak. "Pack a trunk for me with clothes for several days."

"Leaving again already?"

"Yes. I'll be in Zanjira with my…" He hesitated, searching for an appropriate word, and then simply concluded, "Maysa."

Maysa decided to lie down with Aon on her parents' bed for his mid-morning nap. After another instance of sleepwalking, she wasn't feeling very rested. She drifted off and into the same dark, foreboding dream.

It was a giggling Aon that woke Maysa later, delivering drool-drenched kisses to her cheek. She wiped her face with the blanket, rolled away from the baby and startled when she found Loki reading in the bedside chair.

His eyes shifted up from the pages to meet her gaze. "Feeling better?" he asked with sincere concern.

Aon still tried to climb on her. So, she sat up and collected him into her lap.

"A little. When did you get back?"

"Not that long ago. I spoke with your parents."

She assumed they'd told him everything. It seemed appropriate to admit her misbehavior in his absence. "I've been somewhat disrespectful to them."

Loki's tone turned playful as he responded, "I've also heard: defiant, argumentative, moody and distant."

Why deny what was true? Maysa shrugged. "It's all been a bit much to handle." She'd made a quick decision to omit the word alone from the end of this confession because she'd been surrounded by family the whole time and alone could imply that she'd perceived some wrongdoing on his part.

Aon wiggled out of her hold, sliding over the edge of the bed to make a run for the open doorway into the hall.

Loki's eyes followed after the tike before drifting back to Maysa. He'd adopted a guilty pout to his expression during the short transition.

"You heard about my sleepwalking?"

"Yes, and some varied theories on the cause."

"I'm sure they were very entertaining."

He gave no answer other than to chuckle.

Cheerful shouts arose from the distant playroom, causing Maysa to wonder if the youngsters were aware that Loki had returned. She smoothed her hair and scooted to sit on the edge of the bed closer to Loki.

"What's the plan?"

"I'm going to be staying in a guest room. I'll attend to business with your father during the day and assist with the children in the evenings."

Maysa leaned forward to examine the leather-bound volume in his hands. It was his spellbook. "When will you have time to study?"

"I haven't figured that out yet." He stood, holding the book to his front and offered her his free hand, which she took.

As they walked together in the direction of the playroom, Maysa recognized the calm settling into her system. She rested her head against his shoulder, feeling thankful for his presence.

In the week that followed, Loki considered his outings with Sovereign Antus to be opportunities for learning and observation. He needed to better understand the man's views, talents and shortcomings. Though tense at times, their overall interactions weren't as unpleasant as Loki had presumed. Antus took Loki's impressions and suggestions seriously, especially when they spoke of the nobles or anyone they met with who carried significant influence in Zanjira.

The nobles were curious about their ruler's soon-to-be son-in-law and seemed to conjure up excuses to request visits from them, which increased time spent traveling each day. Loki planned to make great efforts — and spend as little money as possible — to restore the keep because he felt it necessary to provide the ailing sovereign an appropriate venue to meet with and entertain guests.

"You're too responsive to their whims," Loki insisted. "We will get the keep in order and they can learn to call on you there if their need is urgent. Otherwise, they can correspond by messenger."

Used to a very different family dynamic, Loki tried to get a sense of continuity and normalcy out of the household routine, but came to realize it was a futile exercise. The youngest children had limited concepts of time, schedules or prioritization and rarely accomplished anything asked of them without supervision and constant guidance.

"It's a group effort," Maysa explained. "If you start to lose your patience, hand them off to someone else."

This clever tidbit of advice helped tremendously in getting through the most hectic of morning and bedtime rituals.

Saeli asked Maysa and Loki one evening while they made a cooperative effort to corral the twins for bath time, "Do you two ever kiss?"

Loki couldn't stop his vexed sigh before turning to the inquisitive eight-year old and declaring, "That would require us to have a few moments to ourselves, which clearly isn't possible around here."

Maysa snatched up Magali and headed for the tub, avoiding Loki's inquisitive glance.

He captured the wiggly Malae a moment later, secured her in Saeli's arms and sent them to follow Maysa so he could finally head to his room for some reading.

Maysa peeked in on him later when the baths were complete and the little ones were tucked in for the night. She leaned against the door frame, looking weary and contemplative.

"You did make a good point to Saeli."

Loki had to think for a moment to recall which dialogue Maysa referred to, since Saeli had a talent for persistent questions and useless chatter.

"Our time alone is limited," Maysa admitted. "In fact, this is the first real chance we've had to talk in a couple days."

"We shared a few moments yesterday morning," he reminded her with subtle teasing, "when I pulled you out of the stables."

She frowned, fidgeted and looked away. Everyone had wrongly assumed her sleepwalking would end when Loki moved in.

"We really should talk about the wedding," she countered, "or are we letting your parents decide everything?"

Loki went to her, taking her hands in his. Her eyes were so tired, yet studied him with apparent thoughtfulness.

He admitted, "I didn't realize the ceremony was that important to you. It could be too late to make changes."

"I know. We're just getting along much better now and— "

Loki interrupted her. "Let us inform your parents that we have business in Asgard and leave a few days early." He didn't think it fair to make any bride justify her thoughts and feelings about her own wedding, whether it was a political arrangement or not.

This recommendation pleased her for Maysa grabbed him in an enthusiastic hug, which Loki enjoyed because she lingered close with her head tucked up under his chin and cheek resting against his front. She felt warm, soft, delicate, yet also so strong. She smelled of soap, baby powder and sweat, a testament to her diligence as a caretaker to the little ones.

Maysa asked in a pleading whisper that surprised him, "Can we go now?"

Loki didn't ask her to repeat the request because he was certain that he'd heard her correctly, but he pondered why she was so insistent when it made more sense to leave in the morning.

Still, he would not deny her.

Since no one expected them, Maysa's rooms were dark when they arrived. Loki walked through using magic to light the candles.

"We'll speak with my mother in the morning," Loki promised. He turned to leave, but Maysa pulled him back. Her features became apprehensive, and she appeared unable to speak, when he asked what was wrong.

She started to ask, "Will you…?" then faltered again.

Thinking he might know what she wanted and wishing to help, Loki cautiously offered, "Stay?"

"I'm not asking you to make love or anything." Her eyes shifted down and an embarrassed flush rose on her cheeks.

"Of course," he said, trying not to smile for fear that she would think he was making fun of her timid request and explanation. "Take some time to get ready for bed. I'll do the same."

She managed a nod, turned and fled to the bathroom.

It didn't take Loki long to undress and wash up. He slept in lightweight undergarments only, but donned his robe for the walk back to her rooms. He'd expected her to need more time than he did, but found her changed and in bed when he returned.

Loki noticed that Maysa purposely averted her gaze when he cast off the robe and climbed under the covers, which led him to realize that he really had no idea what she wanted from him. Could he touch her? And if so, how much?

He focused on the candles, extinguishing them with a dismissive gesture. Then he laid on his back, shifting until his frame felt comfortable on the soft mattress.

Maysa interrupted the following quiet and stillness to roll against his side. He moved his arm, slipping it around her form to allow her to cuddle close. She resettled, laying her head on his chest, a gesture which felt both endearing and exciting to the prince. In the power of that moment, Loki almost didn't resent their parents' meddling and scheming.

"Is this alright?" the elf asked in a whisper.

"Yes."

"Your heart is beating faster."

Afraid that a discussion on feelings would take a poor turn, Loki assured her, "It will calm." He touched her arm that also rested on his front. His fingers skimmed back and forth along her soft skin until their breathing slowed and eventually fell into rhythm.

They both had to be on the verge of sleep. Loki's body felt heavy, and he barely registered it when Maysa made the faint, yet fearful utterance, "Don't let me go."