A/N: sticking this up here at the top today because I want to lavish the appropriate praise and gratitude upon midnightwings96 for her help co-writing a major portion of this chapter. Without her help, input, and tweaking of this chapter, it would have been rather horrible, so I bow to her thank deeply thank her, and you all should too, because she saved you from reading crap :D I know nothing of opera, or theater in general really, so everything good and detailed about the opera portion of this (including the entire storyline of the opera itself) is all thanks to her. What can I say, she's totally freaking amazing :D Also, my continued thanks for the reviews, alerts and favorites, it brings me joy every time I get a notification in my inbox :D Happy Thanksgiving to all as well, and I hope you guys enjoy the longest chapter yet :D
Nearly a month after the palace banquet, Aemilia awoke in her bed at dawn in a marvelous mood. Her hard work had paid off, and tonight, she was making her debut performance in an epic drama beginning its run at the city theater. Once she had gotten over the shock of landing the role, excitement and nerves had set in, and she had spent nearly every waking moment throwing herself into the role and making time only for the occasional hour or two with her parents or friends, and of course, her nights with a certain insatiable Prince.
To her surprise, Loki had agreed to leave her be the night before, to ensure that she got plenty of sleep prior to her debut. His behavior in general continued to confound her, and she would have stopped trying to track his exhausting mood swings if she weren't fascinated by them. As it was, the more she tried to understand him the less she actually did.
She sighed against her pillow, lying on her stomach as she brushed away thoughts of Loki and focused on the day ahead. She ran through her schedule for the day in her mind as she rolled over to her back, then abruptly lost her train of thought when she collided with a hard chest.
She looked up and blinked away her surprise at the sight of Loki, in a thin green robe with gold accents throughout and on the cuffs of his sleeves, on his side, propped up on his elbow and looking wonderfully like he'd just rolled out of his own bed to just causally appear in hers.
"Good morning," he grinned, his voice hoarse enough to convince her that he really had just rolled out of bed.
She laid her forearm over her eyes and sighed, "I wish you wouldn't make a sport out of showing up at the most unexpected times."
"I've merely come to wish you good luck," he said with a smile, tugging her arm off her eyes by her wrist. She responded by playfully glaring at him.
"I have much to do this morning," she said, trying to sit up and finding herself thwarted by Loki's hand that suddenly came to rest under her collarbone and urged her back down.
"As do I," he replied, the rasp in his voice deliberate now as he moved to hover above her. "But I wouldn't want you to begin your big day feeling... less than completely relaxed."
"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow as he pressed some of his weight down on her, bringing one of his hands to her hair. "Yes, I am sure that your motives are purely selfless."
"You don't believe me?" he asked before dropping a soft but quick kiss to her lips. Ironically, it was now nearly always he who initiated their kisses, and he who would be loathe to end them.
"I believe no words that leave your lips," she replied, trying not to gasp a little as he kissed her neck. She couldn't help but slide her hand into his beautifully sleep-mussed hair, letting her other one settle on his shoulder as his own hands busied themselves pulling up the skirt of her nightgown.
"Smart girl," he grinned against her neck. He then moved his lips down to her shoulder, where he bit her skin gently and quickly soothed it over with his tongue before she tightened her hold on his hair and wrenched him back up to kiss him unexpectedly hard. Her hand that had been on his shoulder slithered down his chest and then tugged on the tie of his robe before bypassing the fabric in favor of the bare skin underneath.
He chuckled and grabbed her wrist away when she grasped him, placing her hand beside her head as he ended their kiss to say, "Now, now... I'm here for you, remember?"
She opened her mouth to retort and restate her skepticism, but then a sudden, single long finger sliding within her left her speechless - when had his hands even roamed down there, anyway? - and he smiled at her sudden inability to speak. "I'm curious... do you walk about all day in a constant state of readiness, or is it simply the mere sight of me that makes you gush like this?"
There was no way in all the realms that she was going to answer that one honestly - his ego was out of control enough as it was - so she kept her mouth shut and hissed as a second finger joined his first. She let herself start moving against him when his thumb started toying with her, applying enough pressure to make her squirm and wriggle for more but not enough to bring any real relief. "I could ask you the same, you know."
He'd been trailing his tongue along the dip of her neckline when her voice roused him. "Hm?"
"You -" she faltered as his fingers curled, then forced herself to recover. "You're always ready, too, the very moment you show up."
She felt his smirk as he kissed her jaw, and his voice was low and alluring as he spoke. "Would you like to know why that is?"
She couldn't answer, because his tongue was licking a trail to her ear and his hand was still working at a leisurely pace and if she tried to speak, she'd just squeak and embarrass herself. "Before I come to take you for the night," he said against her ear, "I think about all of the things that I plan to do to you. I think of the way you look in my bed when you're lying there at my mercy, gasping my name as you take what I give you like the wanton creature that you are."
Aemilia felt that by now she should be able to toss lascivious words back at him, play his game and make him as affected as she was by his talk, but every time he got on a roll like that, she could do little else but half-groan in response and try not to unravel then and there.
"You plague my mind," he continued, nipping at her earlobe, letting his fingers quicken their work by a fraction, and he groaned a little as her nails bit into his shoulder. "Your smell never leaves my skin. I think of your lips, your skin, your taste - it makes my mouth water even now to think of it."
She moaned when he kissed her then, brought close to her peak by his words, but he withdrew his fingers and slid down her body before she could so much as blink. His own words had inspired him, evidently, and he slithered under the blanket still covering her from the waist down and didn't hesitate to sate his thirst for her.
She decided that she wanted to wake up every day like this and allowed her head to roll back into her pillow, every nerve in her body coming to life at the swipe of the Prince's tongue. She wouldn't hold out for much longer, and she looked down towards him only to frown when she saw nothing but her light violet-hued blanket - why was he under there to begin with? It was odd, because he was always so showy and keen on eye contact for this sort of thing. She started pushing clumsily at the blanket, about to just rip it away when a sound at her door made her freeze in horror.
Her eyes shot towards the sound and widened in terror as she watched the knob turn, hearing her mother call her name simultaneously. She felt Loki freeze against her, but instead of simply vanishing as she expected him to, she watched his legs that had been dangling off the foot of her bed simply become invisible as the rest of him flattened beneath the covers. Then the door burst open and she tried not to completely panic.
"You are awake," Ayre said, stepping halfway to the bed and planting hands on her hips. "You should have been up and at breakfast twenty minutes ago!"
"I -" Aemilia faltered instantly, feeling a shot of pleasure rocket through her as Loki, bastard that he was, resumed his work as if he'd just been stopping for a breath.
"Dagr will be here within the hour," Ayre went on. "He offered to escort you to the theater and he will, of course, be attending with your father and I tonight."
Aemilia opened her mouth to protest - she didn't need an escort to go to a place she practically lived at - but then there were two fingers adding to her torture and Loki was suckling her with enough force to make her fall apart three times over if she hadn't been fighting it so hard. She was going to kill him.
"Are you well, darling?" Ayre asked in concern, taking another step forward. "Your face is flushed - are you feverish?"
Valhalla, take me now, Aemilia thought miserably, able only to reply in a voice much too high pitched, "No, Mother, I am fine. I will be ready when Dagr arrives." Loki briefly detached from her long enough to bite her thigh, she suspected as punishment for saying her intended's name. He then redoubled his efforts, and she had to fight desperately hard not to succumb to him.
Ayre nodded hesitantly. "I'm sure you're nervous, dear, but you have nothing to fear. Today will be your day of triumph."
Aemilia tried to return her mother's unusually warm smile, but it came out as more of an odd grimace as she nodded too quickly. "Thank you, mother."
"I shall be awaiting you in the dining room," Ayre said, finally turning and heading back towards the door. "Do hasten - we know Dagr has a penchant for turning up early."
Relief washed over Aemilia as Ayre walked through the doorway and began to close the door. "Yes, I know. I'm coming." She then realized how poorly chosen her words were and covered her face with her hands in mortification as the door creaked shut and Loki laughed at her expense. She was going to actually kill him.
Her door shimmered with magic - just about ten minutes too late, she noted angrily - so she tore the cover away from Loki as he became visible once more, meeting her gaze with eyes positively sparkling with mischief as his mouth urged her to stop fighting and give in.
"I am going to kill you," she seethed, trying to sound menacing and angry but instead sounding more breathless than anything. She then dropped back down on her pillow and gave in at last.
The anger and sheer terror she'd just experienced didn't detract from her climax at all, and she would never admit if it actually managed to heighten it instead. She also stayed completely silent, not daring to give Loki the satisfaction of hearing a single sound of pleasure leave her lips, and she bit a hole in her bottom lip in the process.
She breathed a sigh of relief when it was finally over, her body turning utterly limp and anger ebbing for just a moment as she began recovering from her ordeal. When she begrudgingly opened her eyes to look down at Loki, she found him to be sort of lounging between her legs, cheek resting on her thigh as he looked up at her with far too much joy and amusement on his face. Once their gazes locked, he started casually licking off his fingers, and that was when Aemilia rolled her eyes and grabbed him by his hair and hauled him up to her.
She sat up as he kneeled before her, and she knew he expected the slap that her palm delivered to his smirking face.
"Oh, now that's not nearly hard enough to teach me my lesson," he teased, so she slapped him again, harder this time.
He purred - actually purred - and Aemilia could have slapped herself for taking on a lover so deranged as to enjoy being slapped in the face as hard as possible. He simply smirked more and raised a brow to her. "I await my punishment, my lady."
She cursed at both herself and her lover as she pushed him down to his back, not having the will or desire to send him away without his own satisfaction. But she'd make him work for it.
The look on his smug face said it all as his head hit her pillow and she straddled him, and she controlled her urge to slap him again. She didn't have the luxury of time at the moment, truly having to prepare herself for the day very soon, so she couldn't torture him with a long wait. In fact, if he didn't play along, there was little that she could do to torture him in turn, but he did say that he was awaiting his punishment. Fair enough, she decided.
"Hands on the headboard," Aemilia said, and he gave her a briefly unimpressed look before doing as she said, reaching behind his head and placing his palms flat against the wood. "Keep them there," she added before abruptly sliding herself over his length and taking him in.
She quickly regretted taking away the use of his hands, because to her shame, she missed them greatly. She didn't even feel all that angry anymore, and the realization made her wince as she rode him briskly. He seemed just as frustrated as she was, however, and that was a small comfort.
"Can't you take that thing off?" he asked irritably, scowling at her nightgown as it covered all but her legs and some of her neckline, pooling at his waist and preventing him from seeing anything of what was happening.
She responded by grinding down against him, making him hiss as she replied, "Don't talk unless I tell you to."
That earned her another arched brow, then a small little smile as he again decided to play along. She then leaned down, pressing her lips to his neck and tangling a hand in his hair as she controlled their ever-quickening pace, and she moved and kissed and touched him in ways all meant to make him shake with the need to touch her in return, and it worked.
She saved kissing his lips for when she could sense him nearing his end. When she did, she kissed him hard and heard his nails scraping into the wood beneath his palms, and the sound spurred her to break away and lean her forehead against his as she whispered, "Say my name."
He chuckled low in his throat, breath coming in hard rasps, and he replied, "Darling, I will shout your name from this very rooftop if you let me touch you."
"Your hands stay where they are, or you'll finish by them," she said daringly. She kissed him again, nipping at his bottom lip, and she glanced towards the headboard when she heard the wood begin groaning under his hands. He was gripping a portion of it now, and she knew that it would simply split into pieces if she didn't let him move. If a broken headboard wouldn't have been such a hard thing to explain to her parents later, she would have let him break it, but instead she rolled her eyes and muttered, "Fine, touch me." Bastard.
His hands were under her nightgown scouring every inch of her skin before she could blink. His arms encircled her and held her in place as he thrusted up into her, harder and harder, and she pressed her lips to his once more when he knew he was at the cusp. "Say my name, my Prince."
Aemilia hadn't expected him to take hold of her by the back of her neck and look her in the eye as he followed her command, but he did, and he moaned her name out like something between a prayer and a curse as he found his end. It made her wish that she had done this long ago, back when he'd first made her do the same for him. It was sinfully intoxicating, and his gaze was far more intense than she could grasp.
She watched every stage of his release, watched as it slowly slipped away from him and left him with closed eyes and starving lungs as he held her close, and when he eventually opened his eyes and caught her gawking, he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he smiled lazily and brushed her hair behind her ear. "I am beginning to suspect that I shall never tire of you, little one."
Thinking him fully ridiculous to say such a thing when they both knew it wasn't true, Aemilia simply drew herself up and carefully extricated herself from him with a look that she hoped conveyed her lingering anger. "How lucky I am."
She then rose from the bed, as she should have twenty minutes ago, and rolled her eyes at his response of, "Indeed."
When she turned to glare at him, she found him to be gone.
Loki had taken the time only to refasten and fix his robe before vanishing himself back to his room in the palace. He appeared in the middle of his chambers, wearing a look of smug satisfaction that faded as soon as he turned around and nearly knocked into the ridiculously broad chest of his brother. Who was smiling so broadly and stupidly that it instantly killed Loki's fantastic mood.
"Brother," Thor greeted with a slight nod.
"Is there a reason why you're lurking in my chambers at this hour?" Loki asked, taking a step back and eyeing Thor warily. "If you've lost your hammer again, I'm rather sure my bed is the last one it would turn up in."
"How does the Lady Aemilia fare?"
"Who?"
Thor narrowed his eyes and followed Loki as he wandered across the room, never losing his grin. "You do not need to lie, Loki, I've known the identity of your mystery love since the banquet. I know you think me slow, but am not that slow."
Loki gave an unimpressed shrug, his back turned to Thor as he stalled at his desk and poured a small cup of juice from a tray that had been sent to his room in his absence. Thor added, "I assume she is the reason why I came here to find you gone, only to watch you reappear a moment later in only a robe and wearing a rather satisfied smile."
Sipping the juice, Loki turned to Thor and raised a single brow. "If you've a point to make, brother, I suggest you make it."
"Well, as pleased as I am to see that you've finally found someone who can hold your interest - Loki, she's nearly engaged."
Seeing no point in continuing his ruse of denial, Loki replied, "Yes, I've noticed."
"Do you plan to interrupt the engagement?"
Loki furrowed his brows. "Interrupt? You mean -"
"She's of a respected, noble family - her father Haidr fought alongside Father many years ago - if you wished to make her your own, I am sure that Mother and Father would approve, but you must act quickly if -"
Loki couldn't stop from laughing at Thor's words. "You think I wish to marry her? I assure you, brother, I have no desire to chain her to my side for all eternity, and I doubt she desires it either."
Thor's expression faltered a bit as he searched for words. "But... oh, Loki," his expression suddenly darkened, "surely you do not intend to make an adulterer out of the lady."
The sort of resigned disappointment in Thor's voice made Loki almost sneer in annoyance. "I can tell you in full honesty that I do not intend to make anything out of the lady."
"So you will leave her be, then, when the engagement is official?"
Despite his own words and insistence to the contrary, Thor's words made Loki's jaw clench and his chest feel terribly tight for a brief moment. At this point in time, he truthfully did doubt that he would ever leave her be completely, and the thought of another man bedding her was as excruciating as it had ever been. "As much as I love these heart-to-hearts you insist on having from time to time, I really have no desire to discuss my private affairs further."
"Private affairs - Loki, are we not brothers?" Thor asked incredulously as Loki magicked his usual clothing on without so much as a blink. "What happened to the days when we were in one another's confidence with matters such as this?"
As he did many times with Thor, Loki bit his tongue and did not let loose the myriad of sharply conceived answers that instantly flowed through his mind. He simply controlled himself and answered smoothly, "She is but a momentary distraction. I will tire of her soon and move on, as I always do."
Thor looked a bit crestfallen at this proclamation, and Loki tried not to roll his eyes. "For your sake, I hope that's true. Otherwise you will live to regret allowing her to be married to another."
"Don't worry yourself with such nonsense," Loki said, running a hand through his hair and walking smoothly past Thor and towards his bedroom door. "Now come along before we miss breakfast and must bear Mother's wrath."
They made it to breakfast just in time, Loki appearing as aloof as ever and Thor looking mildly worried, which grated on Loki's nerves as he sat dutifully at Frigga's side and Thor sat where Odin normally did. The All-Father was busy elsewhere in a meeting with his advisors, and it was not uncommon, so neither brother bothered to ask of his absence.
"And here I thought you boys would leave your mother to dine alone," Frigga said with a smile.
"I can't speak for Thor, but I'd never dream of it," Loki replied sweetly, and Thor nearly rolled his eyes.
"It is not I who caused our tardiness today, Mother," Thor noted, but he didn't elaborate further.
"It matters not," Frigga said softly, watching as her older son dove unceremoniously into a plate of sausages, while her younger one eyed him in distaste before setting to his own meal with all the delicacy of a haughty prince. Night and day, they certainly were. "Have either of you plans for this day?"
Thor held up a hand as he swallowed a large mouthful, then said, "I shall be training until darkness falls."
Frigga nodded, then turned to her other son. "And you, Loki?"
"I've nothing to do of particular importance," he shrugged, which meant he'd be holed up in his room in a sea of books and probably about fifty copies of himself wandering around as he continued to master the art of concentrating elsewhere while keeping his copies conjured. It was more exhausting than anyone gave him credit for.
"Good," Frigga replied. "Then you can accompany me to the opera tonight. It is opening night for one of my favorite shows, and the Lady Aemilia is playing the main role. I was quite impressed by her when she sang for the court recently."
Thor had choked on a gulp of water at the sound of Aemilia's name, and It was a testament to Loki's self-control that he didn't turn the water to mud and really give Thor something to choke on. Instead, he smiled at Frigga and replied, "Of course I'll accompany you."
She smiled in turn and then glanced at Thor. "You are welcome to shirk your duties for a day and come as well."
Loki wondered what would win out in Thor's mind, his hatred of sitting through something that held no interest for him, such as an opera, or his love of tormenting Loki. He made a prediction in the matter, and it turned out to be accurate.
"I... fear that I would fall asleep and offend the Lady," Thor said, honesty evident in his tone. "I would not want to reflect poorly on the family with such a show of disrespect."
"I understand," Frigga said gently, and Loki couldn't help but wonder if Thor had said something to her regarding his relationship with the singer. It seemed too coincidental, and Thor had never been very good at keeping his mouth shut. In any case, Frigga then turned to Loki and said, "Be ready by early evening."
Loki nodded, then glanced at Thor and scowled at the knowing look he was getting from his older brother. Things like this were precisely why he had tried so hard to keep Aemilia to himself.
The day had gone by in a dizzying blur, and Aemilia was an excited mix of nerves and anticipation by the time the show was a half-hour away from beginning. She was in her dressing room, looking into the mirror and adjusting her fiery-red wig atop her head as she drew in one of many deep breaths to come. Nerves were unavoidable, but she relished the rush that could only come with the stage. She'd only felt it to this magnitude once before, when she sang for the King those months ago. Despite the slight terror of the thousands of faces in the audience analyzing her every note and move, Aemilia couldn't deny that anticipation and absolute freedom that came with the stage couldn't be matched.
Her costume, the first of several she'd don tonight, was a simple peasant's dress, the kind she'd never worn before in her life unless it was for a production. It was a drab beige that washed out her complexion with the help of the wig, and the effect was intentional. The wig was swept into a bun at the back of her head, leaving small tendrils to fall and frame her face, and she only wore enough makeup to even her skin tone and enhance her eyes.
She was about to warm up her vocals when a flurry of movement at the door gained her attention. She turned in her seat to find one of the production's producers standing in the doorway, wearing an excited look on her slightly aged face as she said, "My lady! The Queen is here - Queen Frigga and Prince Loki, they have arrived and will be in attendance tonight!"
Aemilia didn't know why she was surprised, but she was. "I... oh. That's very exciting, indeed."
"Don't be nervous," the lady said quickly. "You've sang for them before, and you will be brilliant tonight. I just wanted to let you know."
"Thank you," Aemilia said sincerely, just before her vocal teacher rounded the corner and bypassed the producer to enter the room and begin her final vocal preparations before the show.
Aemilia's family and soon-to-be betrothed were in attendance as well. It was another crossing of her two lives, intersecting somewhat uncomfortably and leaving her with a small sense of unease in the back of her mind. She wouldn't entertain the feeling now, not when she had an opera to perform, but having her intended and her forbidden lover under the same roof and very possibly crossing paths at some point almost made her feel lightheaded with anxiety.
But that was a worry for another time. For now, with an exuberate cheer from her castmates, she made her way to backstage.
And with a deep breath, the house lights went down.
Showtime.
Loki sat beside his mother in the most elaborate box seat, reserved for those of importance such as themselves, and he was sprawled lazily in his seat as he scanned the others in attendance below him with mild disinterest. Frigga, by contrast, sat elegantly in a flowing gown of aqua, a peaceful gaze upon her eyes as she glanced at her son in amusement. "Bored already, darling?"
"Not at all, Mother," he replied, giving her a small smile as he looked away from the other seats. "I have been looking forward to this."
"I am so very grateful that one of my sons shares my interests," Frigga smiled back. "It has been eons since your father has accompanied me to the opera, and I'm sure you recall what happened the last time I dragged your brother to one."
"He began dueling with one of the audience during the intermission and nearly wrecked the stage, then fell asleep during the third act," Loki recalled, with an equal sense of derision and affection.
Frigga chuckled, and Loki let his eyes wander again, this time landing on the moving silhouette of Aemilia's intended as he led her mother and father to their assigned seats in the orchestra section, four rows from the stage. He felt the inklings of rage tease at the back of his mind at the mere sight of the lumbering fool, but he deliberately extinguished the anger with his sheer willpower and reminded himself that Aemilia despised the man nearly as much as he did. If only the guardsmen knew who had already taken what he sook, who had already tainted her body and mind with his searing touch before Dagr had even had the chance to properly kiss his would-be fiancée.
If he could, Loki would bind the man to a chair and make him watch as Loki took Aemilia, repeatedly, as many times as it took to make him and all others see that she was his and nobody else's, that she craved his touch above all others and always would, and that her satisfaction was his to command. He would laugh at the man's distress, take joy in it, revel in it, and only when he had his fill would he let the man limp back to his pathetically dull life, having eternally learned his place.
"What's so amusing, Loki?"
Realizing that he'd been staring at the back of Dagr's head and smirking slightly as he'd enjoyed his twisted fantasy, Loki blinked and instantly schooled his features. "Nothing." He had to remember, his mother was arguably the sharpest, most damningly perceptive person that he'd ever known, and she had the tendency to see through him at times as if he were translucent. He had to take care of how he appeared and acted in her presence.
"It's nearly starting," she said as the house lights dimmed, and Loki nodded and further relaxed in his seat.
He couldn't wait to hear her voice again.
When the curtains had risen and the show had begun, and her first note of the evening washed over the the audience sounding for all the world like an effortless waterfall, Loki closed his eyes for a short, blissful moment. When she sang, he had to wonder if she possessed some unknown sorcery to make such a sound spill from her lips. Her coloratura voice was high and delicate, jumping from note to note with ease, yet her voice rang through the audience with an amazing amount of power.
He opened his eyes and directed his full attention to the stage, to her, and let his mind still as he watched intently. She played a young maiden, Katrine, born into poverty and doomed to a future of the same, and the first act began with a heartbreaking scene of tragedy that would shape her character's future.
She sang fearfully, clutching a little girl to her arms - her sister - on a wooden staircase in her family's home, comforting the child as their mother and father fought viciously below them, in the kitchen. A loud, ominous thud put an abrupt end to the song, and the stage fell eerily silent as Katrine hurried down the stairs, sister in tow, towards what the audience knew would be a tragic scene, and indeed, there she found the grisly sight of her mother laying on the kitchen floor, blood oozing from her head and pooling at the feet of Katrine's father.
Loki winced slightly at the cry that filled the air. The father claimed innocence, claimed that it had been an accident, and Katrine responded in a wild, nearly inhuman rage - the stage rumbled and glass fixtures overhead shattered, and in a voice that held so much raw emotion while remaining unbelievably beautiful, Katrine raged at her father while her apparent gift for sorcery was revealed.
The scene ended with the father issuing a threat to Katrine that forced her magic to subside and earned her submission - that if she kept on with such sorcery, it would get her killed, just as it had gotten her mother killed. He then stormed from the scene after that confusing threat, with Katrine falling to her knees beside her fallen mother, singing mournfully and hauntingly for the loss of her one living parent, her sole ally and secret teacher of magic. Her beige dress was now smattered with blood stains, and her eyes were as red as her hair as she wept through the song, and not a single eye of the audience was cast anywhere but fully on her.
She let out one final note, impossibly quiet and tortured note that somehow rang through Loki's ears in a way he'd never heard before.
When the single light illuminating her figure died, Loki startled back to life as he glanced to his mother before focusing back on the darkened stage. The show had barely begun, but his expectations had already been exceeded. Perhaps it was time to stop underestimating Aemilia at every turn.
The story wound on, showing the further deterioration of Katrine's life in the wake of her mother's death. She practiced magic in secret as her father put her to work, forcing her to maintain the family home as her mother had, and all the while she suffered his verbal and occasional physical abuse. She protected her little sister from his abuse and dreamed of an escape, a way out of the hell that her life had become, all as hatred and anger twisted her heart into a shadow of the innocent thing that it had once been. She learned lethal spells from books that she had stolen and hidden, and some nights she would be sorely tempted to use them on her father, but she could never bring herself to do it.
Then one day it all changed. A new King was crowned, and a grand celebration was thrown in the city for all citizens, nobles and commoners alike. Katrine's father insisted they attend, and she put on her best dress - a golden, tastefully fitted gown that her mother had made herself when Katrine came of age - and put a smile on her face as they arrived at the celebrations.
Loki shifted slightly in his seat. He knew the story vaguely already, and he knew how the following scenes would progress, and he wasn't sure how he'd like seeing them. In the midst of the drinking and laughing and frivolity, the new King took a turn through the crowd, earning favor with his subjects by taking the time to speak to them and sharing in the festivities, and the odd effort would pay off immensely as he charmed them all. He was young and handsome, tall and blue eyed with short waves of gingery-blonde hair beneath his crown of gold, and the smile only fell from his face as he noticed the one maiden in all of the crowds who was not also smiling.
He approached Katrine, setting into motion a series of events that changed both of their lives forever; he found her glum and slightly weary appearance to be a mystery beneath her beauty, and she, having had a bit to drink, could not have been more stunned to have gained the attention of a King.
Loki watched the two sing together, eyes and hands and voices portraying the simple beginnings of seduction, and he didn't particularly like it. He did take satisfaction in the fact that even though the King was clearly talented, the only purpose his voice served was to enhance Aemilia's. He noticed, as the King whisked her away towards the celebration's end, that she looked at the man the same way that she had looked at him the night he first kissed her, on a balcony of his own palace. He wondered if she drew on that experience to act the scene out; that, he didn't mind.
Katrine realized that the King's interest could very well be her way out, a way to rise above it all and have a life she could have only dreamed of before - she need only play her role correctly and carefully. And she did, ending the night in the King's bed.
Somewhere in the midst of this, Frigga had turned her eyes to her son to find him utterly enthralled by the show, but something... peculiar about his expression had caught her attention. He was always more serious and studious than others, his expressions always more intense and focused, but there was also something else this time. It didn't take her long to realize that his eyes were fixed wholly upon the lady on the stage, the same lady whose name had made Thor choke slightly over breakfast, and the same lady with whom Loki had danced rather closely with at the recent banquet. She had noticed all of these things, and now they were beginning to make sense.
Frigga smiled and turned her eyes back to the stage. Oh, how her son loved to court trouble.
It was during the short intermission that Frigga's voice roused Loki from his almost meditative-like state.
"She's to be engaged, you know. To one of our own guardsmen."
Loki quickly turned his eyes to his mother, his expression deceptively blank. He considered playing it off, or lying, or both, but Frigga merely tilted her head knowingly, as if she could read his mind, and Loki realized there was no point. "Yes. I know."
"She is lovely," Frigga remarked. "Is she aware of your interest?"
Extremely, indecently so. "Yes."
"And does she return it?"
Loki was quite sure that Frigga was asking a rather scandalous question in a decidedly non-scandalous way. "Yes."
She sighed, and it was a long, subtly worried sigh. "Loki... you know what would happen to her if someone other than myself or your brother were to find out. She could be stripped of her title, disowned, banished."
"I know, Mother." His clipped tone made it clear that he didn't want to discuss it further, but Frigga ignored it.
"Do you care for her?"
The question made him nearly panic. He didn't expect to have such a reaction to it, but he truly didn't know the answer - he understood very little of the hold that Aemilia had over him, and he understood the feelings that she evoked in him even less.
Frigga took his silence as a yes. "She is not engaged yet. You know that once she is, very little can be done."
It was a simple, true statement, full of implications that almost made Loki laugh. "First Thor, and now you assume that I would want to be betrothed to this girl."
Frigga paused, choosing her next words carefully. "I assume that the son I raised would not so carelessly toy with a girl's heart and then leave her to an undesired marriage once you've had your fill of her."
"Then perhaps you should convince Father to revise Asgard's laws on marriage, Mother," Loki replied with a shrug.
Frigga didn't flinch. "Act aloof as you always do, Loki, but I know you. And I've never watched you look at another the way that you look at her." She watched Loki's face almost fall at her words, as if he hated to hear such a thing, and she added quietly, "I've always told you that you are blind to nothing in all the nine realms like you are to yourself. It is true."
The intermission concluded as she finished speaking. Loki turned his eyes to the back of Dagr's head once more, and this time, he didn't bother to suppress the anger that sprang up within him.
The story continued with Katrine and the King embarking on a torrid affair that, on Katrine's part, was inspired equally by ambition as by lust. She no longer slipped quietly through each day, no longer waited in the shadows for her life to begin someday. She took her fate into her own hands, letting her vivid red hair fall in long waves down her back, painting her face as the noblewomen did and strikingly dressing the part of a King's mistress, in deep purples and midnight black, though she longed and schemed to be much more than just a mistress. She worked tirelessly to win the King's heart, and when he promised her that he would take her and her sister away from their plight and make her his wife - his Queen - she suddenly had all she could have ever dreamed of and more.
Loki had no trouble pouring himself back into the performance after the unexpected conversation between he and Frigga, once again focused wholly on his lover's voice and performance as he watched her dart around the stage in a state of bliss. He suspected she felt every bit as blissful as Katrine did - he'd never seen her so alight with joy and so in her element as she was on the stage. This was so clearly what she was born to do - anything in life that would take her away from it would be nothing short of a tragedy.
While her inner joy would surely remain, Katrine's came crashing down in flames on the day she was set to move into the palace with her little sister. She had them both ready, secretly so to spare them from their father's potential wrath, for a carriage to come and take them away from their wretched pasts forever. But the carriage never came - what did come was a wave of gossip throughout the land, alerting all to the news that the King was to be married within a week, to a noblewoman who was not Katrine.
Rage, jealousy, betrayal, and desperation - he could feel it all flowing from Aemilia - Katrine - and he had been looking forward to this part. He wanted to watch her sink her teeth into this part, the dark turn of events, and see if she had what it took to pull it off.
Katrine, fueled by her swirling, dangerous, jilted emotions, had found the woman promised to the King and had mercilessly killed her by nightfall. Then, when the King retired to his chambers for the night, expecting to find his betrothed waiting in his bed, he found Katrine instead, laying there with a look of unadulterated revenge and power. When he demanded to know where his betrothed was, Katrine, with a strong, bellowing chord from orchestra, held out a hand and he was lifted up in the air by an invisible force, choking, as she proved to him just how powerful she truly was.
Loki smirked - Aemilia made quite the enchantress. He could watch her like that all day, despite the violence of the scene; her fiery hair flying beautifully around her magnificent, fury-filled face as she sang with a voice like silk and brought a King to his knees with the force of her mind. It was twistedly beautiful.
The King saw no choice but to give in to Katrine, and in mere days and one more scene, they were married. Katrine had it all - she and her sister were safe in the palace, she had a throne, wealth, a life that was only just beginning. She was Queen, and nothing would ever change that - she would be sure of it. She would steal and lie and kill to keep what was hers, and by the way the King glared contemptuously at his new wife from his throne next to hers, she knew what must be done next.
Corrupted by the lure of power and the fear of what fate awaited herself and her sister if the King were to decide to dispose of her, she decided to act first. A simple spell upon a palace servant, through one turn of her hand and a smile upon her lips, and the King was dead - poisoned, they said, by a servant. And oh, how the Queen mourned her fallen newlywed husband, and the kingdom their beloved young King.
But Katrine had unknowingly made a fatal error in her haste. Barely accustomed to life in the palace, she had not thoroughly checked her surroundings when she cast the spell upon the servant, and there had been a maid who watched it happen from behind a curtain. The maid told a guard, who told one of the King's advisors, who allowed the tip to be leaked to the public. And on the day of the King's funeral, the Queen's subjects turned against her.
Aghast and disgusted that their Queen was no more than a lying witch who had usurped the throne and killed an honorable King, word spread throughout the crowd that day, as night fell and the King was taken to Valhalla. Katrine sensed the murmurs and the rising ire as she walked hand in hand with her sister away from the funeral as it ended, felt the stares and the piercing glares from under her black mourning cloak, and yet she couldn't stop what happened next.
It was one foolish subject who jumped out from the crowd and screamed "Witch!" as he hurtled a blade through the air that damned them all. The blade swished through the air as Katrine's sister jumped mindlessly in front of her, the sweet girl not yet corrupted by life and thus still innocent and pure enough to know no better than to lay down her life for a killer, even if that killer was her own sister. The blade pierced her heart, and Katrine screamed loud and raw enough to shake the very roots of Yggdrasil to its foundations.
She held the dying girl in her arms, innocent blood staining her arms and chest just as greed and hatred had tainted her soul and set into motion the events that had caused this to happen. It was her fault, her doing, and yet when it had all began, she had done it for her sister - to protect her, to keep her safe from an abusive father, and give them both a life with a chance at real happiness. Everything she had done, every terrible deed, every sin, it had all been for a purpose - and now that purpose lay dead in her arms.
The ground trembled beneath her as grief gave way to rage. The heavens opened up and her skin began to burn as she stood slowly, eyes burning and self-hatred erupting into open flames that seeped through her skin and also began to swell up through the ground and rain down from the sky. She did not lose control, but instead gave it away to her magic and allowed it to raze the city to the ground, with her in the midst of it, burning hotter than any of the others. The flames bent to her will with the rising chanting of her voice. Gone was the delicate, silky smooth voice, and what was left was an unbelievable, mature voice that consistently crescendoed to a point where it seemed to rattle the entire theatre in its power. Katrine greeted death with the knowledge that she fully deserved it and that she would never find peace in either life nor what lay after it. And she decided to bring everyone else down with her. And with one final note, her voice reached immeasurable heights, all the rage and hurt and beauty pouring from her glorious throat.
Visually, the show was stunning - the effects, especially that of the fire, Loki knew to be the work of some semi-talented sorcerers behind the scenes. He could have made it look even more realistic, but for what it was, it was gorgeous. But none of it would have mattered without its star, who truly brought the story to life and brought it so beautifully to its finale; an entire city, an entire kingdom burned to the ground by a misguided enchantress who had been trying to do good in all of the worst ways and, in the end, lost all that had ever mattered to her and all that had ever made her who she was underneath the layers of hatred and anger that had so warped her.
The applause was deafening as soon as the stage lights went dark. Loki felt an odd sense of pride swell in his heart for Aemilia, a pull of happiness that he imagined was magnified many times over for herself, and sure enough, when it was all over and she and the rest of the cast stood to take their bows to the audience, she smiled in a way that he thought she deserved to smile every day.
He watched her shining eyes sweep through the audience, and he felt another odd pull within when her gaze met his for the first time that night. He gave her a small, subtle smile as he continued to clap for her. Then he slowly rose to his feet, his smirk pulling more at his lips; she gave him the widest smile that her lips could physically give.
Beside him, Frigga watched the silent exchange. She didn't say a word, because the two smiles had said more than enough.
She felt high, drunk, and dizzy, all in the best ways possible - and the rush hardly ended with the show. Adrenaline continued to course through her veins, swirling with relief at how shockingly well it had all gone, and Aemilia spent the next hour positively bouncing along the theater as she was congratulated, hugged, and praised within an inch of her life.
She was in such a fantastic mood that the sight of Dagr popping up with a bouquet of red roses for her didn't make her roll her eyes or internally gag. Instead, she gracefully accepted the flowers and even gave the idiot a hug, and didn't begrudge him when he lingered by her side as others continued to stream steadily though her arms.
She was shocked back into a semblance of reality when the Queen and her son came elegantly into view, the crowd parting effortlessly before them, and really, she shouldn't have been shocked. A glance to Loki's amused eyes as he strode haughtily towards her was all that she allowed herself before she focused on the Queen and curtsied well in advance of their arrival - far be it that she appear to have any sort of comfort level around any of the royals when she wasn't supposed to.
"My Queen," she said lightly, shoving her bouquet of roses to Dagr before adding politely to Loki, "Your Highness."
To her shock, Frigga opened her arms and drew her into a warm embrace. "My dear girl," she cooed as Aemilia hugged her back and looked at Loki over her shoulder, who was smiling lightly at his mother's antics, "you were lovelier tonight than mere words can say - congratulations."
"Thank you," Aemilia said, bewildered, as the Queen released her with a smile. "I - thank you."
Frigga nodded, then glanced back to Loki and said, "My son enjoyed your performance as much as I did, I dare say. Didn't you, Loki?"
Loki gave his mother a look so quick and subtle that Aemilia almost thought she'd been seeing things, but then Loki stepped forward and met her gaze and she lost her train of thought.
"Indeed," he said, reaching out for her hand. To everyone around them - with the possible exception of Frigga - he looked no different than he ever did, but Aemilia could see the mischievous sparkle in Loki's eyes, and as she placed her hand in his, a wave of anxiety washed over her.
Raising her hand slowly, he said smoothly, "The beauty of your voice is paralleled only by the beauty I see before me now."
She stared openly at him - it was so unlike him to say anything like that, and for a moment she couldn't understand why in the world he'd pick now to say it. But then he brought her hand to his lips, and as he brushed a soft kiss over her skin, he looked at her briefly before darting his eyes over to glare at Dagr, who quickly cast his eyes to the floor as if embarrassed, and suddenly it all made sense. But that didn't stop his kiss from sending sparks of heat through her hand and up her arm, nor did it stop a faint blush from creeping up her cheeks when he lowered her hand and brushed his thumb over her knuckles before releasing it, back to sending her searingly deep eye contact that she could only pray wasn't visible to anyone else but her.
It was roughly the fourth time that day that she decided that she really needed to kill him.
"Thank you, your grace," she eventually stammered out, glancing back at the Queen to find her wearing the same pleasant expression as before. She hoped that meant that her face wasn't the big, bright, and shining display of guilt that it felt like it was.
"Of course," he replied, again glancing at Dagr, and only Frigga noticed the twitch of his hand as he did so.
"We will be sure to invite you to sing for the court again soon," Frigga said sweetly and sincerely. "It would be our honor to have you again."
Aemilia gratefully thanked her again, not noticing how Dagr began to itch his face suddenly until his eyes widened and he handed her back the bouquet. She glanced at him and almost gasped when she saw his face covered, out of nowhere, in big angry red blisters - blisters that were oozing even as he covered them with his hands and sprinted away in bewildered humiliation.
Loki barely tried to hide his smirk. Frigga did hide her internal eye-roll as she repeated her congratulations to Aemilia and then bade her farewell, and Loki turned to follow her out, but not before winking at Aemilia just for the hell of it.
"Was that truly necessary?" Frigga asked as she and Loki walked away.
"I've not the slightest idea what you speak of, Mother," Loki replied, wishing he could have made the blisters a permanent change rather than ones that would fade in an hour.
After a night full of light-hearted celebrating with friends that made Aemilia feel more normal than she had in months, she returned home still on a high and just the slightest bit tipsy, enough to warm her fingertips and get her thinking about what the rest of her night would hold. She still wanted to throttle Loki for his various antics throughout the day, but he'd saved her from having to deal with Dagr for the rest of the night with his blister trick, and the moment her eyes met his in the audience at the end of the show had lingered in her mind more than she cared to admit.
She didn't want her celebration to end when she came home - surely she shouldn't begrudge herself that, right?
She went up to her room, dressed in a dark blue dress and with her hair down and loose over her back, and she couldn't stop smiling as she opened the door and stepped inside. It was empty, for the moment; she turned and closed the door, and when she turned back, Loki was an inch away from her, holding a single, perfect golden rose in his hand with a solemn look in his green eyes.
She couldn't help but gasp at the flower - it was straight from the Queen's gardens, she knew, one of the special kinds that only grew there by her signature magic. If Loki had felt the need to outdo Dagr's red roses, then he certainly had, but she didn't know if that was why he had it.
"That's..."
She fell silent when he lifted the rose and trailed its outer petals over her cheek. It felt like silk against her skin, and when coupled with the way he was looking at her, it was a surprisingly sensual touch. "Beautiful," she finally finished, just before he ran the flower over her lips.
"I've seen better," he said, barely above a whisper. She then gently reached up and took the rose, as he dragged it down the front of her neck towards her chest, and pried it away from his fingers before walking away to place it somewhere safe. Being magically bred, it didn't require water the way other roses did - in fact, if the rumors were true about the Queen's roses, once picked, they never died.
She placed it on top of her dresser, knowing that when she turned around, he'd be there a breath away again. She was counting on it.
She turned and reached out, finding him exactly where she knew he'd be, and she grabbed him by his shoulders and yanked him to her, kissing him with a fierceness that seemed to take even Loki by surprise. She then pushed him up against the nearest wall with a dull thud, standing on the tips of her toes to reach him with her hungry lips, enjoying his mildly dumbfounded reaction to her unusual aggressiveness.
"Take me to your room," she breathed between kisses, and as soon as she uttered the words, his arms clamped around her waist and he vanished them to the middle of his room, a few steps away from his bed. She noticed that, and she pushed him back when he tried to push her toward it. "The wall," she said, and he raised an eyebrow, but he didn't argue. He took her wrist, and the next thing she knew, he'd tossed her against an open expanse of the wall between his bookshelves and went to work devouring her lips as he grabbed her and lifted her up. Her legs wound around his hips instantly and she let herself moan when he ground against her, pushing her hard into the wall, and she coaxed a moan out of him when she bit down harder on his lip than she'd ever dared to before.
Her hands reached between them to fumble with the laces of his pants, and somewhere in her head, she thought it was hilarious that he'd showed up in her room with a rose, possibly attempting romance for the first time, and she responded by demanding that he take her against the wall and biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed. But, he didn't seem particularly displeased with the change in pace, and he ripped off her undergarments from under her skirts the same moment she finally managed to get his pants pushed down some, and he wasted no time slamming inside of her and making a painting above their heads shudder with the force of it. It was perfect.
She grabbed his hair and held on as he moved roughly against her, and he brought his lips and teeth to her neck, but she didn't feel like dealing with any lingering bite marks, so she pulled on his hair, hard, and he groaned with pleasure before raising his head back to hers and kissing her lips. She thought back to how much he'd enjoyed being slapped earlier that day, and then she pulled even harder on his hair, making his head jerk back and expose the pale column of his neck to her eyes, and his moan in response was shaky and loud. She drank up the sound and then sank her teeth into his neck, the way he liked to do to her, hard enough to leave a mark that would last for days, and this time his response was somewhere between another moan and a growl, louder this time. He grabbed her by her hair and slammed her back against the wall, making her yelp, and his eyes blazed as they looked into hers.
He looked like he was going to say something, but instead he growled again and clutched her to him as he suddenly spun them around, and she squeaked in surprise when she felt herself slam down on top of his desk. Papers crunched beneath her and he picked up just where he left off, moving fast and hard and kissing her just as roughly, and she would give a sharp dig of her nails in his back here and a bite of his lip or neck there, and the harder it was, the louder he'd groan. His sounds were addicting, and they alone were enough make her fall apart underneath him and give the night a fantastic start.
When he'd finished in a heap of satisfied moans on top of her on the desk, they moved to the bed and then began anew once they got around to shedding their clothes, and it was a wonderfully well-practiced routine by now. What they weren't fully accustomed to were conversations after, but somehow that night, they breeched that barrier as well.
He had gotten up to fetch them both cups of water - she giggled at that as she made herself comfortable under his sheets, the idea of a Prince serving her as she lounged in his bed - and she tried to keep her eyes on his when he came sauntering back, but they drifted down anyway.
"Like what you see?" he drawled before easing down into the bed and handing her her own cup of water.
"No. Not at all. I'm here against my will, after all," she replied sarcastically with a smile before sipping the cup. "Sorry about the... lip."
The bite was already nearly fully healed, she could see as he took both cups and set them aside, and he gave her a skeptical look. "Why should you be sorry for something I enjoy?"
She shrugged, shifting to her side as he leaned back against his headboard, no parts of them touching as of yet. "I don't know. I wouldn't want to hurt you."
"You flatter yourself to think you could cause me true pain," he mused.
She wondered if his words had more than one meaning, referring to more than just physical pain. If it was a reminder of how little she'd ever actually mean to him, despite his possessive behavior and actions that were beginning to make her fear otherwise. She couldn't decide which would be worse, meaning nothing to him or being loved by him.
Not that it mattered in the end. "Those blisters were impressive," she said absently, watching him slide down from the headboard and move to his side to face her, though the distance between them remained.
He smirked, propped up on his elbow. "I was being merciful. I could have turned him into a rat and had him trampled by your adoring fans."
She rolled her eyes. "He may be a bore, but Dagr is -"
"Don't say his name," Loki quickly hissed, the change in his tone briefly stunning her.
"I -"
"Not in my bed," he added. "Not when you're with me. Don't speak his name."
She nodded, searching his eyes for something that would explain his words and actions but, as always, finding nothing. A moment passed, and he began toying with the ends of her hair as they spilled over her pillow. She watched his fingers idly play with the strands for a moment, then stilled his movements by closing her hand around his wrist. His eyes flickered up to hers, but she kept hers on his hand as she brought her other fingers up to trace the lines on his palm.
"Shall you read my fortune?" he asked with amusement.
She shook her head, smiling slightly at his words. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Have I ever said that you cannot?" he countered.
She shook her head again. "Can anyone learn magic?"
She looked into his eyes earnestly, and he studied her for a moment before he answered. "Yes and no."
"Yes and no?"
"Every person born of Asgardian blood has the capability of performing magic," he said, "as well as those born of some other realms. But not everyone can... harness the energy within themselves to use it."
"Oh," she said, watching his hand turn hers over and copy the treatment she'd given his, running his fingertips along her palm.
"Thor, for example, has neither the patience nor the care to reach deeply enough within himself to learn the most basic functions of magic. My mother tried, briefly, to teach him when we were children, when he became jealous of what I could do, but he got bored quickly and lost interest."
She smiled slightly, very unused to hearing Loki speak of his family to her at all. "He was jealous of you?"
"I've been doing magic since I was only months old," Loki replied. "It was unintentional, of course, but I was born with the natural ability that others have to work to master. Some are simply not suited for it - Thor is one of them."
He seemed to be rather happy with that fact, Aemilia noted. His eyes narrowed slightly and he asked, "Why do you ask me this?"
"I... well, you will probably laugh at me."
"Tell me anyway."
She looked up at him, then back down at his fingers as they traced the blue weave of veins on her inner wrist. "Well... when I was a child, my mother and father took me to a royal parade in the city square. I found it all terribly boring, as any child would, but I behaved myself and waited patiently for it to be over so I could go home and play. Towards the end, I had almost fallen asleep on my father's lap, but then a bright light woke me up. I remember opening my eyes and seeing the most beautiful bursts of colors I'd ever seen lighting up the sky, all flowing directly from the hands of a prince."
Loki's eyes had softened, and Aemilia had to look away to find her voice to continue. "I asked my mother what it was, and she said that it was magic, that the prince was skilled in magic. I asked her if I could learn to be skilled in magic as well, and she told me that it was not appropriate for a girl of noble stock like myself to learn such a thing. I asked her a few more times as I grew up, but she forbade it every time."
"People are scared of what they do not understand," Loki replied. "It's all fine and good when it's parlor tricks, some fireworks here and there, maybe a lighthearted prank or two, but anything more and people begin to fear you. Treat you differently."
"Has that happened to you?"
Loki gave a light shrug. "My mother nurtured what my father would have extinguished. She taught me what I know. I care not if others think me dangerous because I can do more than they could even imagine with just the will of my mind."
"Are you? Dangerous?"
Loki smirked, his fingers trailing to her chin as he remarked, "For you, yes, immeasurably so."
She rolled her eyes with a small smile. "Can you teach me?"
His smirk faltered a little, and she instantly regretted asking the question. She was on the cusp of telling him never mind when he replied, "It is much easier to learn as a child. Learning as an adult, when you've shown no natural ability prior, is... it's not impossible, but it is unlikely."
She nodded quickly. "I understand. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."
He fought a smile as he ran his thumb along her lower lip. "That was not a no, Aemilia." Her eyes snapped up to his and widened slightly, and he added, "I can try to help you tap into the energy within you, but if you cannot, there is nothing that I can do. It is not easy, and you will have to have impeccable focus. Do you understand this?"
She nodded quickly, unable to believe that a childhood dream might be within her reach after a lifetime of thinking it was but a mere stupid wish that would never come to fruition. "I... yes, yes, I understand. Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," he replied. "It is hard work to harness something you've lived with since birth but never noticed. You won't find it the least bit enjoyable, and it will be exhausting. And tedious. And it will be all for nothing if you do not succeed."
She answered without delay, and it made him grin in response. "When do we start?"