It was becoming more and more clear to Aemilia, as time went on, that Loki didn't take her seriously. Ever. And she knew that it was her fault.
He thought that he had her wrapped around his finger, or perhaps one of the curved horns of his ridiculous helmet that he favored for formal occasions, and she couldn't entirely deny that it was true. He had a way of giving her what she desired but still leaving her in desperate need of more, causing the cycle to repeat itself like clockwork. He toyed with her, tormented her, and still she came willingly to his bed nearly each night of the week, then was loathe to leave it when he'd had his fill of her.
He thought he had all the power, and perhaps he did. But Aemilia was tiring of his attitude. She may share his bed, but he did not have her heart, and she was still quite her own person, and she could play games as well.
"Oh, this design is exquisite..." Ayre raved as she looked over sketches of Aemilia's dress design for the upcoming palace banquet. She and her daughter had come to their favored dressmaker's shop to finalize plans for both of their gowns, and Ayre treated this as the most important of business. "I am not entirely sure of the color, however... it's a bit pale."
"The color can be changed to anything you'd like, of course, my lady," the dressmaker, and elderly and remarkably talented woman, said quickly, and Ayre swiftly turned to face her daughter.
"Darling? Have you any preference for your dress's color?" she asked as Aemilia drifted about the shop, absently touching samples of rich fabrics that hung about, lost in thoughts that she kept wholly to herself.
Aemilia blinked, clearing away her thoughts as she approached her mother and took the sketch from her hands. The design was indeed beautiful - long sleeved fitted gown that flared beautifully at the knees into a small train, tastefully low neckline, subtlety embellished bodice. It was a bit more fitted and curve-hugging than what she was used to, but she had no qualms about pulling it off.
"Perhaps a deep scarlet," the dressmaker suggested. "With your skin tone, it would be stunning."
"No," Ayre quickly shook her head, and Aemilia agreed. Fashion was one of the few areas that they nearly were always of one mind about.
As she stared at the sketch, imagining herself wearing it to the banquet, dancing along the floors of the golden palace hall, she was suddenly struck by an idea that only she would know was truly devious.
"Deep green," Aemilia said, handing the sketch back to the dressmaker. "And the embellishments a light gold."
"Oh, why didn't I think of that? It will be stunning in contrast with your skin and hair," Ayre smiled, patting Aemilia's shoulder. She smiled back weakly to her mother, thinking it ironic that she saw fit to give her daughter a say in the color of a gown but not in the choice of a husband. But she bit her tongue, already deep in contemplation of other, currently more important things, like how to use this upcoming event to begin turning the tables on her domineering lover.
Aemilia began to both dread and look forward to the banquet with equal fervor the nearer it drew. She dreaded it because it meant the end of Dagr's training was also getting closer, and that meant their courtship would soon no longer be a stagnant, theoretical thing. However, she also looked forward to the event, because to her surprise, Loki had been called away on royal business to Alfheim along with the Queen, and the banquet would be the first that she had seen of him in nearly two weeks.
At first, she hadn't known what to do with herself when he was no longer whisking her away each night. The first several nights she had caught up on her sleep that he'd been keeping her from, but then she began to find herself unable to sleep at all. She missed him desperately, missed his touch and his titillating words and his enormous bed, and she could hardly believe how excited she became the closer the banquet drew.
When the day finally did arrive at last, she wake awoken by her mother before the sun had fully risen in the sky. Preparations for such an outing began at such ridiculous hours when Ayre was in charge, because according to her, such time was necessary for a woman to achieve her full beauty potential. Aemilia didn't protest, allowing her mother and handmaidens to primp and prepare her for the banquet, nearly giggling at the thought that while they surely thought they were polishing her up for Dagr, it was really Prince Loki who would reap the benefits.
The giggles came to an abrupt end, however, as Aemilia and her mother sat side by side in front of an enormous mirror, having their hair ironed by their handmaids. Most of the day so far had been full of pleasant and vapid chatter, but suddenly Ayre saw fit to turn to Aemilia and smile warmly at her as she spoke with a tone of sincerity.
"I want to thank you, Aemilia, for... behaving as you have in these recent weeks," Ayre said, her piercing dark eyes meeting her daughter's lighter ones.
"Behaving how?" Aemilia inquired.
"You have been handling yourself with a great deal of grace," she explained, "despite how I know you feel about the engagement."
"Oh," Aemilia muttered, looking away towards the mirror. "Well... it's not as if acting unpleasant would change anything, would it?"
Ayre paused for a moment, looking down at her hands as she gathered her words carefully. "You should consider yourself lucky, Aemilia. I am sure that you feel as if your situation could not be possibly worse, but it could be so easily."
At her sudden wistful tone, Aemilia looked up and met her mother's soft gaze. "What do you mean?"
Ayre sighed. "When my mother arranged my engagement to your father... I was infatuated with another."
Aemilia's eyes widened almost comically. "What? You've never told me-"
"It was foolishness," Ayre shrugged quickly. "Nothing but youthful foolishness. But it caused me much heartache, and I resented your father for the better part of five centuries for something that was no fault of his own."
Aemilia was stunned. "I... had no idea, Mother."
Ayre smiled and placed her hand over her daughter's. "I tell you this because you should be grateful to not be in a similar situation. Dagr is a good man - you will grow to love him. He will care for you and give you everything. His love will be the only love you've known from a man, and that is how it should be."
Aemilia cringed a little bit, guilt suddenly plaguing her mind as it processed her mother's words. What she and Loki had may not have been love, but it was certainly enough to cause a similar plight as the one Ayre was describing. And Aemilia was utterly alone in it.
For a moment, she considered telling her mother a very abridged version of the truth - that there was someone else who held her interest and did indeed make it hard to her to so much as look at Dagr. The thought of telling Ayre, of easing her burden of secrecy even if it was with the aid of lies, was terribly tempting - she had been keeping so much inside for so long, and she suddenly felt as if she were about to burst at the thought of at last telling even just a little of the truth.
The moment ended, however, with a sudden sharp burn on the back of Aemilia's neck from a moment's mishandling of the iron in her hair. She yelped and quickly grasped the pained skin, not surprised when Ayre proceeded to yell at the handmaiden who'd fumbled the iron and reduce the girl to tears with less than three full sentences. Along with impeccable grace and beauty, Ayre was a master of deeply cutting words, but only when she wished to be.
Aemilia's almost-moment of truth was long gone by the time Ayre calmed down and turned back to the mirror, once again engrossed in her task of getting ready for the banquet. It was just as well, she thought in resignation - the truth was her burden to bear, and it was best that she bear it alone.
"Oh... my sweet Aemilia," Ayre said emotionally, clutching her hands to her chest, "you... are exquisite."
Aemilia smiled and gave a twirl in her dress, having just finally finished her preparations for the banquet with fifteen minutes to spare before Dagr's scheduled arrival. Her dress, spun with Asgard's finest silk and tailored specifically to her body and nobody else's, put its sketch to shame as it clung to her curves and accentuated them without veering off into distaste. The deep emerald green was indeed a glorious contrast against her pale skin and dark hair, and her hair was a sight to behold all it's own - it had taken the help of three others to craft it into a side-swept spiral of curls that cascaded down her right shoulder from a crown of rose-shaped curls low on the back of her head. Not to be outshined, her makeup was just as luxurious and intricate; her eyes were a dramatic blend of the colors she wore, shimmering green and gold near her lash lines blended into black that extended dramatically around lids covered in darker shades of the two colors. Lightly blushed cheeks and a dark berry lip completed the stunning look, and Aemilia had never seen her mother quite so speechless before.
"Dagr may fall faint when he sees you, dear," Ayre beamed, and Aemilia returned her smile dutifully. It wasn't Dagr's reaction she was looking forward to.
As if on cue, a servant shuffled in to inform the two women of Dagr's early arrival, and Ayre smiled warmly as she placed a dark fur shrug on her daughter's shoulders. "Remember what I told you earlier, darling."
Aemilia nodded, wishing that doing so would make the slightest bit of difference. Only a moment later they stepped into the foyer, and there stood Dagr in his best, most decorated Royal Guard uniform, and he did indeed nearly pale in wonder at the sight of his would-be intended.
"... Forgive me, my lady, I fear I have forgotten how to properly speak," he said with a charmingly stupid smile, and Aemilia smiled back as he reached for her hand to kiss it.
From there, it was only minutes before he led her to the carriage that would take them to the palace. Her parents followed in one of their own, and Aemilia should have found it all rather more romantic when she did. As it was, she felt absolutely nothing unless her mind drifted to her destination - if she did, her stomach would flip before curling into a nervous knot. Then she'd glance at Dagr, and it would dissolve into numbness once more.
When they'd been on the road for just over five minutes, Dagr shuffled around the front of his uniform before producing a small black box. "For you, my lady."
"Oh," she said a little lamely, taking the box from him. She hadn't been expecting anything, but then, this was how courting was supposed to work. She lifted off the lid to find a beautiful golden necklace inside, a single square pendant hanging in the middle of the gilded chain. The pendant was clear and yet shone with many colors - it reminded her vaguely of Asgard's rainbow bridge.
"It changes colors according to your clothing or desire," Dagr explained. "It's a rare type of sapphire found in the caves of Nornheim."
"It's beautiful," she said genuinely, offering him a smile. "Thank you,"
"You are very welcome," he replied, watching her lift the necklace from the box and unclasp the chain.
"Can you help?" she asked somewhat awkwardly, not wanting his hands particularly near her but seeing no other choice. She wouldn't risk disturbing her hair and it would be inconceivably rude to not immediately put the necklace on.
"Of course," he said, taking the necklace a little too eagerly. Their fingers brushed and Aemilia fought an instant cringe before quickly mentally berating herself for such a ridiculous reaction.
She gazed out the window to her left as Dagr arranged the jewelry around her neck, and before she could stop herself, she wondered what it would be like to be in this exact situation with Loki instead of Dagr. She imagined the fingers on her neck to be longer, paler ones, ones that would trail down her arms and then grip gently to pull her into a warm embrace, just as lips pressed softly to her neck before becoming more insistent, eventually trailing up to her ear where he'd whisper...
"Are you well, Lady Aemilia?"
She opened her eyes - how long had they been closed?! - and quickly turned to her companion with a nervous laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry - my mother woke me before dawn this morning, you see, and I'm... just a little tired."
Dagr smiled. "I understand. We've only twenty more minutes until we reach the palace grounds."
She nodded, her stomach twisting back into a knot at his words. She planned on beating herself up about her poorly-conceived daydream later, but for now, she focused on bracing herself for whatever the night would hold.
"There you are!" Thor bellowed as he strolled purposefully into his younger brother's room without so much as a knock. Loki stood in front of a large stand mirror in the far corner of the space, putting the finishing touches on himself prior to the night's celebrations, and he wasn't fazed by the sudden intrusion. "How was Alfheim? Thank you for taking my place, once again - I owe you, brother."
Fiddling with the high collar around his neck, Loki gave a half-snort. "You always owe me." Originally Thor had been set to accompany Frigga to Alfheim, but Odin had decided that he wanted Loki to go instead near the last minute, and that had suited Frigga just fine - she preferred Loki's company over Thor's on diplomatic outings, but Loki hadn't been as pleased with the turn of events.
"Not always," Thor contested, wandering over to a small table where the remainders of Loki's lunch sat awaiting plunder. He grabbed a roll from the platter and glanced at Loki before commenting, "Have I ever told you that you are more vain than any woman I've ever known? How long have you been primping yourself in front of that mirror?"
Loki turned, the edge of his green cape trailing along the floor as he stepped away from the mirror. "If vanity is my worst sin, brother, then surely I'm on the path to sainthood."
Thor chuckled through a mouth full of bread, following Loki out of his room and into the hallways. "If only that were true."
Loki grinned lightly in response, and Thor raised a brow as they walked together. "And here I expected you to be in a most foul mood, being forced to suffer through another banquet you despise after having spent two weeks abroad among the Light Elves."
"I'm merely happy to be home," Loki shrugged. "I've so dearly missed the pleasure of your company."
"Yes, I am sure that it is my company that you've missed," Thor snickered. "Don't think I miss that spring in your step, brother. I know exactly why you're so happy to be back."
Just as they neared the Great Hall, Loki turned his head and gave his brother a half-smirk. "You might want to cease barging into my chambers for the foreseeable future. I wouldn't want you to suffer the same trauma I did that time we don't speak of."
"You mean that time you were drunk and mistook my room for your own and stumbled in and saw -"
Loki swiftly held up a hand. "We do not speak of it for a reason, Thor."
"To this day, Sif still thinks it was a servant who walked in and howled in horror before running away."
Loki grimaced at the unwelcome memory as both brothers turned and stood at the Hall's entrance. It was a flurry of activity and last minute preparations, spearheaded by the tireless Queen and her maids.
Loki had a good feeling about tonight. Almost too good, he realized as a slight frown curved his lips. The excitement he felt was a foreign, strange feeling, and it made him feel a bit unbalanced.
Thor clapped him on the back suddenly and smiled broadly. "Ready to help me show these Vanirs what Asgard is famous for?"
Loki pretended to contemplate his words and offered, "Belligerently drunken blonde princes who can't keep their hammer in their trousers?"
Thor's laugh boomed through the hall, and he clapped Loki's back again. "I've missed you, brother."
Loki had missed him too, though he wasn't about to admit it.
Walking through the palace gates on the arm of her suitor was a surreal experience. It felt like the two sides of her double life were meeting right in the middle, overlapping and meshing before her eyes as she and Dagr were welcomed by members of the court upon their arrival. Being raised in the nobility, she knew perfectly well how to smile, bow, and compliment her way through a crowd of high society, and felt perfectly comfortable doing so. But this time, for obvious reasons, she felt anything but comfortable.
The Hall was bustling and already utterly full when they arrived, many long tables already occupied by various families as the guests settled in prior to the All-Father's arrival. With his arrival would also come that of the Vanir delegation, and that was when the party would begin. If it was anything like the ones Aemilia had heard before, there would be dancing and drinking and all forms of merriment until the early morning hours, and if it was a true party, even a fight or two before the night was over. It was how things were done in Asgard, and the Nine Realms were already quite aware of this.
The table that Dagr led Aemilia and her parents to was half-occupied by fellow members of his regiment that had also been invited, and once they had settled at the table, Ayre whisked over some of her fellow noblewomen to join them. It was an odd mix of personalities; young, virile men fresh off of a month's vigorous training, and prim but loud older noblewomen who had no shame in ogling the men despite their millennia-long marriages to the men not currently seated with them. In the middle sat Aemilia, eyeing the ridiculously inviting spread of food on the table, light headed after not eating a single bite of food all day, wanting the banquet to begin so she could eat and hopefully regain some of her wits in the process.
She didn't see Loki or his brother anywhere. She did spy Queen Frigga near the head table, where the royal family would be sitting with the foreign delegation, but she quickly looked away. She'd briefly met the Queen when she sang here last month, and the All-Father as well, but now the idea of being in their company was distinctly uncomfortable.
As the minutes dragged by and her hunger and anxiety increased with each passing one, Aemilia conversed lightly with her mother and the other noblewomen to distract herself. Dagr was busy chatting with his fellow guardsmen, and Aemilia secretly hoped he'd keep it up for the duration of the banquet. She pointedly attempted to not smell the delicious aromas flooding her nose from the table and listened to the feminine chatter flowing at her side.
"... and the last time we entertained a delegation, three fights broke out before the night was over. All in good sport, of course."
"Men and their brutish ways. No wonder the Queen is always the first to bid farewell."
"Yes, and Prince Thor is always the last. As my son says, the true party does not begin until he pulls out his hammer."
"Oh my, I could take that several ways."
Ayre was the one who uttered the last line, and Aemilia rolled her eyes as the noblewomen giggled.
"Speaking of Prince Thor - he's just arrived. Prince Loki, as well. The All-Father must be on his way."
Apprehensively, Aemilia raised her eyes towards the head table. It was quite far away, and there were many heads blocking her view - including Dagr's - but she leaned forward by a few inches and watched as the two princes seated themselves next to their mother. Even from the distance, she could see that the brothers were talking and laughing amongst themselves. Thor was leaning in slightly, and Loki's arms were crossed over his armored chest, a grin on his face as he listened to whatever his older brother was telling him, and just when she saw his eyes begin to scan the tables, she leaned back and allowed Dagr to block her view once more.
She didn't want him to spot her quite yet. She didn't want him to see her seated first - she wanted him to see all of her, all that she had worn and done specifically for the purpose of toying with him, and that moment wouldn't come until later. For now, she thought it best to let him search.
A loud, ominous bang alerted the Hall to their King's arrival. Aemilia stood with the rest of the guests and returned Dagr's tentative smile when he turned to her and offered it.
And thus, the banquet began.
He couldn't spot her anywhere. It was beginning to grate on his nerves. Nearly as much as the Vanir woman who he somehow found himself seated next to as the feast began.
"So, you are the famous master of magic," she smiled, forcing Loki to look up at her. She looked a lot like a younger version of Frigga, which made some sense, as Frigga was a native of Vanaheim herself, but that served as an instant turnoff.
"Why yes," he smiled in response. The Vanir had been introduced to him not five minutes earlier and he'd already forgotten her name, which was highly uncharacteristic for him. "Though I would not want to appear boastful."
"Not at all," she smiled in response. "Word has it that you have even mastered the elements."
"Elements can never be truly mastered," he replied. "But your implication is correct."
"Hmm," was her reply as she brought a cup of wine to her lips. She tilted the cup up, then started in surprise when a block of ice clunked against her mouth. She quickly drew the cup away and Loki chuckled as she stared at the frozen wine.
"How original," she smirked as Loki nodded in agreement and brought his own cup to his lips. She twitched an eyelid and then watched as half of his wine suddenly rose up in a small wave and sloshed against his face - not enough to drip to his clothes, which she was sure that he wouldn't have found humorous at all, but just enough to go up his nose a bit and make him sputter.
"We are all masters of magic in Vanaheim," she said proudly as Loki wiped his nose. He smiled and appeared perfectly affable on the outside, perhaps even flirtatious, but on the inside, he wanted to slam the girl's face into a bowl of pudding.
Aemilia shoved a forkful of roast into her mouth and tried not to give in to the wave of jealousy threatening to break over her. She just had to keep looking at him, like the fool she was, and now she was watching him flirt with a statuesque Vanir who had beauty to rival the Queen herself. It set off a chain of unpleasant thoughts - was she his only lover? He'd agreed to her terms at the outset of their affair, but he was not exactly known for his honesty. Yes, he spent his nights with Aemilia alone, but what of his days? What of the last two weeks?
But she had no justification for her jealousy. How could she object to him flirting with or even bedding other women when she was here on the arm of her soon-to-be betrothed, wearing his gift around her neck, all under Loki's own roof?
She stabbed her fork into her pile of steamed vegetables and suddenly felt like a fool dressed as she was, but it was of no consequence - when the dances began, she would dance proudly with Dagr as Loki would surely dance with the Vanir woman, and she would prove to herself how little Loki's actions truly mattered to her.
How blissful denial could be.
By the time Odin led Frigga to the Hall's center for the night's first dance, Loki's mood was decidedly souring. He'd been scanning the Hall since he first walked into it, and he still had yet to see Aemilia among any of the tables. To make things worse, Thor was already on his way to being spectacularly drunk, and the woman at his side was doing everything in her power to attract Loki and failing miserably. But, as she was part of the delegation, he could hardly be rude, and now he had to ask the woman to dance. And he still couldn't remember her name.
Why couldn't she have just gravitated to Thor like every other woman usually did?
He waited until Thor made for the dance floor, quickly snatching up Lady Sif as he went, before resigning himself to his fate and smiling at the Vanir with his hand out. "Shall we?"
"Shall we?"
Aemilia blinked up at Dagr and then quickly smiled, placing her hand into his. "Of course."
By now the hall was awash with couples and their laughter, and Aemilia was feeling pleasantly numb after downing two goblets of wine. It was just enough to give her a pleasant buzz and make her fingertips warm, plus take the edge off her inner self-loathing, and at some point on their way to the floor, she decided that nothing was going to stop her from having a good time.
Dagr led her to the first open pocket of space amid the dancing couples, then bowed slightly to her as he raised her hand in his and then took her waist with his other.
"Are you enjoying yourself, my lady?" he asked as they moved gracefully along the floor. He wasn't a terrible dancer, to Aemilia's slight shock.
"Yes. Are you?" she asked lightly.
"Yes," he replied. And that was the end of their conversation.
Aemilia spent the next unknown number of minutes wracking her brain, trying to come up with something decent to say as they danced in utter silence. Every other couple around them was talking, laughing, and thoroughly enjoying themselves - she was merely counting the minutes until someone else would ask her to dance or she could go return to her table for another cup of wine, which suddenly sounded like a great idea.
She was so absorbed in morose thoughts that she did not watch her steps for a moment or two, and during those few moments, Dagr spun her gently in a twirl. Her heel caught on something on the floor, and she looked down to see green fabric pinned between her shoe and the floor. Quickly she raised her foot to release the fabric, and then turned only to promptly lose her breath when she opened her mouth to apologize to whomever she'd just impeded - who happened to be none other than Loki himself.
The prince looked down at his trampled cape in distaste and began snarling without so much as looking up to see who he was scolding. "Might I suggest you learn to watch where you're..."
His angry words died on his tongue when he finally looked up and saw his lover as the culprit. She was standing still, at Dagr's arm's length, suddenly frozen as Loki stared at her. His eyes seemed to widen fractionally as they took in her appearance, and his reaction was enough to banish her sullen mood and replace it with satisfaction.
"Your Grace," she bowed gently, "do accept my sincere apologies."
"Yes," Dagr interjected, "forgive us, Your Highness - we seem to have gotten carried away and did not see where we were going."
Loki's gaze moved from Aemilia to her intended, and he shot the man a pointedly bored glare. It gave Aemilia a chance to notice the Vanir Loki had been dancing with for the first time, and she found that the woman was glaring daggers at her while impatiently clutching the prince's hand.
Loki's gaze had ventured back to Aemilia when his mouth opened to speak, which was the exact moment that a sudden blonde blur flashed in between them. Aemilia blinked and found herself looking into the grinning face of Thor. "Lady Aemilia! Welcome back!"
Quickly she gave a bow and smiled. "Thank you, Your Grace."
"I hope you're enjoying yourself," he smiled. "Might I steal a dance or two?"
Aemilia opened her mouth but Dagr cut her off. "Of course, of course!"
And just like that, she was whisked across the dance floor by Thor while Loki stared in disbelief. Aemilia managed a glance to the darker prince as Thor led her away by a few feet, and she watched as Loki set his jaw and turned back to his own dance partner with a swish of his cape that somehow managed to look angry. At first she felt irrationally guilty, but then she remembered how she'd watched Loki and that woman throughout the entire dinner, and her guilt gave way to a sudden idea.
"You are even more lovely than I remember," Thor said charmingly, surprising her with how light his feet were as he glided her around.
"You're very kind to say so," she smiled in response.
"Yes, well, when last I saw you I was quite drunk, so I probably also owe you an apology for one thing or another."
She laughed, catching Loki watching out of the corner of her eye as he danced past them with the Vanir in his arms. "It's quite alright, Your Grace. You've nothing to be sorry for."
"You are very gracious," Thor smiled, and suddenly Aemilia understood why people treated Thor as he did - the man radiated kindness and likeability. It was impossible to speak to him and look at his smile without catching some of his natural cheer. "And a wonderful dancer!"
Loki danced past them again, and this time Aemilia giggled at Thor, loud enough for his brother to hear. She had the feeling that she was playing a dangerous game in doing this, but it seemed like a brilliant idea at the moment, after the night had gone as it had. It also helped that her slight buzz was giving her an extra kick of courage, not that she really needed one after seeing the way Loki had been stunned at the sight of her.
"Who did I steal you from?" Thor asked curiously. "He looked familiar."
"His name is Dagr. He is of the Royal Guard," Aemilia explained.
"Ah," Thor replied before again turning on the charm. "Well, he is a lucky man indeed if he has the pleasure of courting you."
She giggled again, perfectly loud enough for Loki to hear once again, and she glanced his way over Thor's shoulder. Loki was watching, growing ever more irritated by the looks of it, and she couldn't help gleaming some pleasure from Loki's clear discomfort. Thor spun her gently, and she could feel Loki's eyes travel up and down the length of her body before Thor pulled her back to him. She gave the older prince a bright smile and found herself genuinely enjoying herself for the first time all night.
But just as she felt as if she were hitting her stride, a servant interrupted their dance and whispered to Thor that the All-Father had requested his presence at the head table. Thor thanked the man and sent him on his way before turning to Aemilia and giving her a light bow. "Thank you for the dance, Lady Aemilia," he said, taking her hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to it. "I do hope it is not our last."
She smiled and curtsied to the prince. "I am sure it is not, Your Grace."
He left her with another infectious smile, and he was not but a few feet away from her before she heard a low, unimpressed voice behind her. "May I have this dance?"
She turned and found Loki, standing tall in his armor with his hand stiffly outstretched, his eyes a mix of irritation and desire as they once again drank her in. She wordlessly placed her hand in his, then inhaled sharply as his other hand took her waist and pulled her far closer to his body than either Dagr or Thor had to theirs.
Slowly he turned them and began their dance, sending shivers down her spine as he whispered near her ear, "Are you pleased with yourself, little temptress?"
It appeared that he had underestimated the girl, and he was not at all happy about it. Nor was he happy about the fact that seeing her in that dress in those colors had nearly reduced him to the behavior of an animal in heat.
But that hadn't been enough for her, no - she had to go and flaunt herself in front of him with Thor. Thor. She clearly had no idea that she was playing with fire.
As courageous as she had apparently grown in his two-week absence, he still felt her shiver when he whispered his question against her ear, and he knew exactly what effect his sudden proximity had upon her.
"Why shouldn't I be?" she answered as he danced her about, both of them looking off in different directions to keep from staring at each other and giving their relationship away.
"My colors do suit you well," he admitted.
"I wasn't aware that you had ownership over green and gold," she remarked, and Loki turned to look her in the eye.
"Don't try to play dumb, Aemilia. I've told you before, you are an abysmal liar."
"Judging by your tone, I can only assume that I have somehow displeased you."
He chuckled. "My dear, do not presume to know the extent of your effect on me. It may both surprise and frighten you at the present moment."
She stared at him for a moment before casting her eyes across the room, before her gaze became too intense. "I've missed you," she said, her tone feather-soft.
Loki felt an odd pull from within at her confession, but he quickly pushed it aside. He could think of nothing to say in turn, so he decided to simply let his eyes sweep over her once more. This time he noticed the gold jewelry around her neck. "A gift from your intended, I presume?"
"He said it's a rare sapphire found in the caves of Nornheim," Aemilia replied, glancing down at the pendant as it swirled with colors of deep green and shimmering gold.
Loki turned a more critical eye to the bauble, then laughed softly. "He lies. That is merely a diamond that has been charmed to appear as the rare sapphire does."
Aemilia looked at him skeptically. "How can you know that for sure?"
"Because I gave my mother a bracelet made with those sapphires not a decade ago, and I assure you, your intended would not have the means of gaining such such a jewel as I did."
She sighed lightly, as if not surprised at all. "At least your brother was kind enough to spare me from dancing with him any longer."
Loki snorted softly. "Yes, my brother, the hero."
She paused. "Are you jealous?"
"That's what you wanted, is it not?"
"I only assumed that one who loves mischief as much as you would appreciate the effort."
He chuckled yet again. "I'll not see you near my brother again, Aemilia."
"Are you forbidding me?" she asked in evident disbelief, looking up to him once more. "I am not yours to command."
His fingers on her waist curled tighter in their grip as his eyes blazed into hers. "Are you not? Did you not dress yourself in these colors to entice me? Do you remember nothing of what you told me the night I first took you?"
"I..."
"I could kiss you right here," he whispered, dropping his lips as close to her ear as he could without garnering attention from those dancing around them. "I could mark you as my own right here in front of the court and your dim-witted intended, and what would you do then? What could you do?"
"Are you threatening me?"
"I am reminding you who holds the power in our little arrangement, little one," he spoke fiercely but quietly.
She ceased her steps then, a small smile surprisingly crossing her lips as she replied after a pause, "Perhaps I would believe that, if one simple dress along with one brief dance with your brother hadn't brought about such a powerful reaction from you. Perhaps," she withdrew herself from his grip and curtsied before smiling at him sweetly, "I hold some power of my own."
The infuriating woman then turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Loki to stare blankly at her absence.
Meanwhile, across the hall, Thor watched the last few moments of their dance unfold and felt comprehension dawn upon him. When he'd gone to see why the All-Father had requested his presence, he arrived at the head table to find that Odin had not sent the servant who'd informed Thor, and that he did not require anything of him. Thor had nodded in confusion, then cast his eyes back to the crowd only to spot his brother and the Lady Aemilia in the midst of a rather close dance.
Suddenly, it all made sense. He doubted the servant had been anything more than one of Loki's projections, and he couldn't help but grin widely and shake his head at his brother's antics as he set off to continue enjoying the celebrations. He would make sure to congratulate Loki on his good taste later on, and probably mercilessly torment him with his newly gained knowledge for a very long time.
Aemilia walked away from Loki trembling slightly, unable to control the silly grin spreading across her face. She felt exhilarated to have finally exerted some control, and though she knew he'd probably make her pay for it later, she also knew it wouldn't be anything she wouldn't want. In fact, she couldn't wait to get home and wait for him to come and retrieve her - dancing with him in front of virtually all of Asgard had been a surreal, thrilling thing, made all the more exciting by the conversation they'd shared.
All in all, she had accomplished everything that she'd hoped to, and more.
Unfortunately, what awaited back at her table was less than desirable. Ayre was already extremely drunk, which meant she was going to become rather loud and obnoxious soon, and her father was nowhere to be found; Dagr was also AWOL, so Aemilia sighed and placed herself at her mother's side, where she ended up remaining for the rest of the night.
It was just as well - her appetite for dancing had been sated, and sitting with her mother meant less interaction with Dagr. She let Ayre have her fun for another hour before she collected her father and told him that they needed to go before Ayre embarrassed the family, and then she unenthusiastically tracked down Dagr as well.
She didn't see another sign of Loki once after their dance, and she tried not to think of it too much as she endured awkward silence on the carriage ride home with Dagr. She also tried not to think too much about what Loki would have in store for the remainder of her night, lest she drift off into another daydream in Dagr's presence.
The ride home seemed to pass blessedly more quickly than the ride to the palace had, and before she knew it, Dagr was walking her to her front door. Her parents carriage was just pulling up as they reached the door, and as always, Dagr took her hand in his to kiss it.
"Thank you for a lovely night," he said dutifully, and she smiled in turn.
"Thank you as well," she she replied. "And for the gift." Even though it's a fake, she added silently.
He nodded, smiling softly. "I know I've said it already, but you truly are stunning beyond words."
Suddenly, Aemilia's stomach started to squirm unpleasantly as she realized what Dagr was about to do. He was leaning forward slowly and looking at her lips, and she started to panic.
At the last minute, just as his lips were about to brush hers, she turned her head and deflected his kiss to her cheek. Dagr then pulled away and bade her a quick and justifiably awkward farewell as her father began hobbling up the walkway with the belligerent Ayre.
Aemilia took over from there, taking her mother's arm and taking it upon herself to get her safe in bed for the night. Her father wasn't the greatest with such things, and she didn't mind - it was unfortunately not the first and certainly not the last time she would have to tend to Ayre's drunkenness.
Her mother blabbed happily and obliviously until Aemilia had gotten her safely in bed, which was when Ayre caught her wrist and smiled as she slurred, "I know you don't like him... and that necklace is a fake... but he really does mean well, you know."
Aemilia slowly sat down on the edge of the bed and sighed - had she been the last to know about the necklace's authenticity? "I just... we have nothing to talk about. Nothing in common."
Ayre scoffed. "Like that matters. Please, Aemilia, I can't handle your naïveté right now."
Aemilia clenched her jaw and moved to stand. This was another reason why she tended to her mother when drunk rather than her father - Ayre was the quintessential mean drunk when she neared the point of passing out.
"No, no, no, don't leave, I'm sorry," Ayre said quickly, again grabbing Aemilia's wrist. "I just... darling, I just want to wring your neck sometimes."
Here we go, Aemilia sighed.
"You have this idealistic, ridiculous idea of what our lives as women should be, or what you want them to be, and it's not reality, dear! Life is not about... dream-chasing or freedom, or whatever - it's about duty. I know that better than you could possibly know. Everything I've done, everything I've sacrificed, it's all been my duty to you."
"You know that I have no idea what you mean by that, mother," Aemilia said tightly. "I've never asked you for hardly anything."
"No, nothing," Ayre scoffed. "You know, Aemilia, what it comes down to is - we do what we must, not what we want. It is the only way for women such as us to thrive in this realm."
"I don't believe that," Aemilia said softly. "And I don't know what happened to you that made you believe as you do, but..."
Ayre laughed humorlessly. "You happened to me, darling. You were born, that's what happened."
Aemilia froze as the words sliced through her mind like the icy weapons that they were. They shocked her to her core - even for her mother at the height of a drunken fit, that had been an unprecedentedly mean thing to say. She'd never said anything even remotely like it before, either - how was she supposed to process this?
She did all that she knew to do, which was leave immediately the very second she felt tears start to well up behind her eyes. She quickly left her mother's room and hurried to her own room, managing to hold in the oncoming wave of tears until she was safely inside with the door closed behind her.
She let go then, and let out a soft sob as she let her tears fall from her eyes. She didn't flinch when she felt a hand take hers from behind, and she didn't open her eyes when the hand let go. She knew if she'd open them, she would find herself in Loki's chambers, but even that was inconsequential at the moment.
What was she supposed to do after her own mother just confessed that she resented her very existence?
As soon as he'd touched her hand, he knew something was off. It wasn't until he'd teleported them to his room, however, that he noticed that she was crying. A lot.
He didn't do well with crying women. During the rare moments that he'd seen his mother cry out of sadness, it had made him feel so uncomfortable that he would have done anything to make it stop. He felt similar now, watching this woman that had earlier both infuriated and impressed him with her first attempt at tormenting him now stand shaking with tears before him. He simply stared at the back of her head for an awkward moment or two, hoping she'd stop and get over whatever was bothering her, but when that didn't happen, he gritted his teeth and led her by her forearm to his bed.
He sat her down on his bedside and watched in slight horror as she covered her face with her hands and cried even harder. He shifted on his feet and then walked away to grab the first two things he could think of that might help her stop blubbering before she flooded his room.
A moment later, he stood in front of her once more and cleared his throat. She dropped one of her hands to look up and found him dangling a handkerchief in one hand, and holding a small glass of dark liquid in the other.
"Thanks," she muttered, taking the handkerchief first and utilizing it before taking the glass next. He was surprised to see that her elaborate makeup had barely been smudged by her tears. "What is this?"
"Nothing harmful," he said vaguely, and she raised a brow to him before downing the glass in one gulp. She then grimaced and coughed, and he took the glass from her and set it aside before sitting next to her on the bed.
"That was terrible," she commented, still sniffling, though her tears seemed to have ceased for the moment.
"It was just a bit of liquor. With a bit of something added to help calm you down."
She laughed hollowly. "I would explain to you why I'm crying like this, but I know you don't care. So I won't."
He raised an eyebrow and replied, "If telling me will end this fit of yours then please, by all means, tell me everything." It was a selfish motive, yes, but he didn't really care.
"My mother told me, in her very own words, that my existence has more or less ruined her life. I do not know why, because I didn't stick around to hear more. I had heard quite enough for one night." Loki listened calmly, his expression impassive as she went on. "The strange thing is, she's never said anything like that before."
"Perhaps you ought not dwell on the words of a drunken old woman," Loki suggested.
"My mother's at her most honest when she's drunk," Aemilia muttered, staring at her hands. Then the glimmer of the necklace that she still wore caught her eye, and, she grabbed it by the pendant and snapped it clean off her neck before tossing it across the room. "Bastard and his fake jewelry. The gold was probably fake as well."
Loki smirked, his eyes catching again on her dress and the figure that it cut on her body. It really was something to behold - he almost didn't want to take it off of her. Almost. "Why did you wear that dress? Truly?"
She glanced up to him almost shyly. "Exactly why you thought I did. Did it work?"
"Why did you dance with my brother?" he asked, ignoring her question.
"Because he asked me," she answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Would you have had me say no?"
"You made sure I saw you with him," Loki said quietly. "You made sure I heard you laughing with him."
She sighed and again looked down at her hands in her lap. "I watched you with that... Vanir woman all night, and I thought I'd try to make you jealous. It was pathetic and stupid."
"It was effective," Loki stated simply, taking her by surprise. "And I meant what I said earlier. I'll not see you near him again."
He could see that she didn't have the energy to fight with him. She simply rolled her eyes and said, "I don't want your brother, Loki. I've told you before, I do not desire him as I desire you."
"I do not care for words of assurance. I am simply telling you to stay away from my brother."
Despite the slightly bewitched drink he'd given her, she didn't seem to be getting any less agitated. In fact, she set her jaw and glared up at him as she spat, "There are enough people in my life who order me about and take away my choices. I will not let you be one of them. I have no interest in your brother. There is no more to say about it. What do you think I will do? Fall prey to his charms, watch him swing his hammer around and fall helplessly into his bed? Do you think me that easy?"
"The very nature of our relationship suggests that we are loyal to nobody but ourselves," Loki pointed out. "You are sharing my bed while being courted by another and I took your virtue with the intent of ruining you for all other men - neither of us are trustworthy in the least."
To his surprise, she laughed softly and shook her head. "I think what frightens me the most is that I don't feel guilty about this. I don't feel an ounce of guilt for anything we've done."
"You shouldn't," he replied. "It's fun, is it not? Who does it hurt?"
"Me, I suspect, in the end." When Loki did not reply, she looked at him and sighed with a small shake of her head. "Why can't I speak to Dagr as easily as I can speak to you? I've tried so hard, and I keep trying to... like him, just a little bit, but..."
"But instead you dress yourself to entice me and find yourself once again in my bed after bidding him goodnight," Loki said. "Do you think your desires will simply change over time? Do you think that if you try hard enough, you'll cease to have need of me and find fulfillment with him?"
"The fact that you enjoy my misery makes me despise you as much as I desire you," she said quietly. "You are cruel."
"And yet here you are," Loki shrugged, "of your own free will."
She stared at her hands once more, shaking her head slightly at herself, and Loki reached out to her. His fingertips brushed over her shoulder and then the back of her neck, and he felt her relax under his simple touch. Thoroughly sick of talking, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, and her hand quickly rose to tangle in his hair and hold him closer.
She felt safe here, in the one place in all the realm where she knew she shouldn't. Holding him close and feeling his lips upon her skin brought a sort of demented peace within, and she suddenly felt like she could breathe again for the first time in weeks. The day had left her cold, reeling from the overload of emotions that she had endured since it had began, but now there was warmth and calm at last - and she knew it made no sense.
She let him lay her down and crawl over her, one of his hands sliding underneath her to unzip her dress at her back, and it was a care he'd never bothered to take with any of her other dresses. He peeled it down her body carefully, down to her waist and then easing the sleeves from her arms, for the first time finding not a stitch of anything else underneath. He ungently kissed every bit of skin of hers that he bared, growing more desperate and open-mouthed as he went, but he didn't kiss her lips.
After her dress was gone, he broke away to rid himself of his top half of clothes before suddenly grabbing her and placing her in his lap so that she straddled him, and he resumed attacking her neck as he pulled lightly on a fistful of her hair.
"Tell me what you want," she heard him growl against her quickly overheating skin, and her fingers twisted tightly in his hair in response. "Tell me."
"I want you to kiss me," she replied, inhaling sharply as he squeezed her breast neither gently nor roughly.
He chuckled low in his throat and raised his head to look her in the eye, a smirk on his face as he asked, "Where?"
He would have preferred the lewd answer, clearly, but it wasn't what she craved right now. Looking down at his lips, she moved her hands to his face and held them on each side of his jaw before softly pressing her lips to his.
They had kissed many times before, though with declining frequency as of late, and his kisses were never gentle. He plundered her mouth and dominated it, and taught her to fight back and play as hard as he did, but he never taught her how to do this, so she was on her own. He didn't react at first, staying as still as stone as she kissed him almost sweetly. When he didn't respond she tilted her head and kissed him again, and then again, until his lips finally moved just barely against hers. She took advantage of his lips parting just slightly and softly slid her tongue inside, operating on instinct and need, not caring if she did it skillfully or not. She repeated the motion again, and this time his tongue met hers, and his hand left her hip to cup her cheek as the kiss finally deepened.
For the first time, he didn't dominate her or take full control of their kiss; he simply let it happen, his hand staying on her cheek as her arms twined around his neck and pulled him as close to herself as she possibly could. The kiss was everything she wanted it to be, exactly what she had been craving from him for weeks, and it made the very center of her chest ache with contentment.
She could have stayed that way forever and would have been happy just to simply be held and kissed until she had her fill, but Loki eventually broke away to take in a heavy breath. His fingers moved to her hair and his gaze met hers as they both breathed through parted lips, and she expected him to move back to her neck and maybe flip her on her back to get things started. She was okay with the possibility - she was aching for him and she could feel him aching for her as she pressed into his lap. But instead, his hand in her hair pushed her back to him, and he kissed her again.
Of all the things they'd done, and all of the different times that he'd made her nearly forget her own name, she didn't think any of it had felt quite as good as this. He was holding her rather than grabbing her, kissing her slowly and exquisitely rather than bruising her lips, and his hands had never felt so soft as they did when they were holding her cheek or running up and down her back. It was perfect. She shivered when he all but purred against her lips, her good feelings swelling with the knowledge that she wasn't the only one being affected.
He broke away again, after her brain had nearly begun to melt, and her eyes opened when she felt his fingers take her chin between them. She looked up to find his green eyes heavy with desire as they bore into hers.
"You are mine," he whispered harshly. She nodded quickly, and he brought his lips a breath away from hers, still holding her gaze.
"Yours," she whispered almost too softly to be heard. She let her thumb trace his bottom lip, and her insides backflipped when he kissed it. She could do nothing but exhale raggedly and kiss him once more, wishing for the first time that she was truly his.
A/N: *grins* I hadn't planned on this chapter ending like this, but that's where it ended up going, and I'm happy with it. Not much for sexytimes this time around but they'll be back next chapter, along with the official start of angstytimes. Is that a term or did I just make it up? Idk, but I like it. Thanks so much as always to readers/reviewer/faves/alerters and to midnightwings96 whose help is indispensable as always. I've got a lot of good stuff coming up here in future chapters *rubs hands villainously* so keep sticking with me, guys :D thanks again to all of you!