The following morning, Aemilia stood outside and watched as her mother's servants carried her belongings to a readied carriage outside in front of the house. None of the servants spoke to her, but a few of them gave her sympathetic looks as they passed by. She could assume that Ayre had forbidden them from speaking to her.
Speaking of her mother, she was nowhere to be found on that chilly morning. Not that Aemilia expected a final goodbye, nor really wanted one.
Someone she did want to see, however, did come to say goodbye. She heard his heavy footsteps behind her as she clutched her light cloak to her shoulders, and when she turned, she gave her father a small smile as he approached.
He returned the smile, seeming even older today today than usual. He had a head full of light brown, graying hair and a beard to match, and light blue eyes that were sad as he looked upon Aemilia. He had been a fierce, well-respected warrior in his day, and he still had the large frame to show it. But now, he looked every bit the sad father, rather than the aging warrior.
"Father," she nodded slightly, the word sounding strange on her tongue, knowing he was not her true father. But he was the only father she would ever have, and she certainly had no desire to push him away.
He stood beside her, looking out towards the carriage as he sighed. "I feel as though I've failed you greatly."
She shook her head, looking up at him. "You've done no such thing."
"I have always known the truth," he said, still staring at the carriage. "And it never changed my love for you. But I fear that I was too distant, too... occupied with other things, when I should have made you my focus."
Aemilia shook her head again, unsure of what to say. Haidr had been no more distant than any other Asgardian father was to their daughter. It was simply the way of the family, for the mother to concern herself with the children while the father took care of everything else. And Haidr had always made an effort to have days meant just for the two of them, where he would take her hunting or go to the opera with her, and that was more than she could say of other fathers she knew.
"I did not know that you felt so strongly opposed to the marriage. I never intended to have you pushed into an unwanted marriage."
Aemilia sighed, glancing towards her feet. "It's over now. It matters not."
Silence fell for a moment or two, and Haidr said, "Your mother drank herself into a stupor last night, after your argument. She said something about a Prince."
Aemilia closed her eyes with a slight groan. She wondered how long it would take for Ayre to spill the secret to all of society, or if she would refrain to hide the shame of it all. It was a toss-up.
"You must be exceedingly careful when dealing with the royals," Haidr said. "Especially the younger son. Tales of his treachery and mischief are numerous and widespread."
"I know," she said. "But he and I are no longer acquainted."
"I hope, for your sake, that it remains that way," Haidr said. "I only want what is best for you."
"My lady," a servant who came scurrying up to Aemilia from the carriage said, "It is time to depart."
She nodded, then glanced up at her father once more before he pulled her into a tight embrace. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd hugged him.
"I love you, my daughter," Haidr said as he pulled away. "I will see to it that you return home in due time."
Aemilia nodded, giving him a smile as she forced herself to let go. "I love you too, Father."
Her heart felt immensely heavier as she turned and began to walk towards the carriage. For a brief moment, she considered asking her father to reverse the banishment, but even if he were to agree to do such a thing, a part of her wanted nothing more than to prove herself to Ayre, prove that she could survive this punishment just fine and endure it with grace and strength.
So, with a deep breath, she climbed into the back of the carriage, and with a final look towards her father and the only home that she had known for over three hundred years, bade a silent farewell.
It hadn't taken long for Aemilia to nod off in the carriage. She knew that the home of her slightly poor cousins was about an eight-hour journey, and she had barely slept after the previous night's events, so when her eyelids began to grow heavy, she did not fight the lure of a nap. She did, however, quickly jerk awake when the carriage came to an abrupt halt.
Straightening herself, she peeked out of the carriage windows and saw that they were stopped in the middle of the city, which meant they had not gone far at all. Her driver was speaking to a plump little dark blonde-haired woman draped in a light pink dress who was standing next to a carriage of her own, and they appeared to be having quite the spirited discussion.
Before Aemilia could emerge and find out what was going on, the woman scoffed at Aemilia's driver and then marched on over, opening the carriage door herself.
"Lady Aemilia?" the woman said, brown eyes open wide as she smiled brightly.
"... Yes."
"The Queen has sent me to come and collect you, dear. Come along, I will move your things over to my carriage for you."
Aemilia's eyes widened. "But - what?"
"I don't believe I stuttered!" the woman said, sounding exasperated and amused at the same time. "Come along, child. We wouldn't want to keep Her Highness waiting, now would we?"
"I... no," Aemilia said, allowing the woman to all but yank her from the carriage. She looked at her driver, who was watching helplessly and appeared slightly panicked as the Queen's servant made quick work of the transfer. The next thing she knew, Aemilia was in the royal carriage, wondering why in the world this was happening. Her questions were answered when the servant piled into the carriage with her and instructed the driver to go.
"If I may ask - why did the Queen want to see me?" Aemilia asked as the carriage slowly began moving.
"She heard of your banishment, of course," the woman replied with a smile, as if it was the obvious thing in the world. "She told me to come and fetch you and your belongings, so I would think it's a safe bet that she intends to keep you at the palace for a bit."
Aemilia stared dumbly and asked, "To live?"
"Well I would reckon so, yes, my lady," the servant laughed.
"But... how does the Queen even know of my situation?"
"The Queen has her ways, my dear, the Queen has her ways."
Aemilia slowly turned her gaze out the window and found herself stunned. This was certainly a shock. Was she really to stay at the palace?
Stomach twisting suddenly with anxiety, Aemilia swallowed and tried to wrap her head around the news. If life would stop throwing these shocking developments at her and at least give her a moment to breathe in between them, she would greatly appreciate it.
The ride to the palace was quite short. In no time at all, Aemilia found herself standing in the courtyard in front of the large main entrance while the servant - whose name was Gunnvarr - began filling her arms with Aemilia's belongings and shoving them at a few nearby male servants.
It was a bright, gorgeous day, around noon, and Aemilia took a moment to look around her, then quickly wished that she hadn't. On the other side of the courtyard, from the direction of where the stables lay out of sight, came a black horse carrying the Prince that had caused so much of her current predicament. Their eyes met across the distance as if a magnet lay between them, drawing their gazes beyond their control.
Her insides performed an impressive flip, and suddenly she wondered if he knew of his mother's intentions - or perhaps he was even behind them. She wondered if things would change now that she was no longer engaged, if he would come after her again, and if she would give into his advances if he did.
It was a slightly idiotic question. She knew she would give in.
But just as quickly as the moment came, it went. He broke the eye contact first, gripping the reins and riding off without another look back. His gaze had been blank and borderline cold, so she assumed for the time being that he did not have anything to do with her summon here. It remained to be seen if he knew why she was here or if he thought she was simply there for another rehearsal.
"All right, come on!" Gunnvarr said cheerily, having now emptied the carriage. She led Aemilia into the palace entrance and continued, "Your things are being sent to the room that we've set up for you. That is where I'm taking you now. I do hope it is to your liking - if it is not, do not hesitate to tell one of us servants."
Aemilia nodded gratefully. This was so strange. "Thank you."
"Oh don't thank me, my lady," Gunnvarr smiled over her shoulder. "Thank Her Highness."
Aemilia was opening her mouth to reply when a loud booming sound made both her and Gunnvarr look up. She somehow wasn't surprised to discover that the booming sound was Prince's Thor's voice as he approached them with a huge smile.
"Lady Aemilia!" he bellowed as Aemilia came to a halt. Gunnvarr paused but did not linger to overhear their conversation, instead politely crossing the hall to converse with another servant. "I heard the wonderful news!"
Aemilia smiled uneasily, allowing the Prince to grab her hand and customarily kiss it. "Might I ask what news you speak of, Your Grace?"
"That you've come to stay here, of course!" he grinned, releasing her hand. Then he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and added, "Loki must be overjoyed."
"He... I do not know his feelings on the matter. I've only just found out myself," she supplied with a shrug.
Thor looked mildly confused for a moment before his smile spread across his face again. "Ah, well, in that case, allow me to be the first to officially welcome you to the palace. It is our honor to have you here, my lady."
"Thank you," Aemilia smiled, grateful that he didn't seem to be aware of the circumstances that had brought her here.
"You are very welcome," he smiled back, then tilted his head slightly and asked, "Did you see mine and my brother's fight yesterday?"
"I did," Aemilia nodded, a flash of Loki's little parting bow suddenly bursting in her mind's eye for the hundredth time. "It was very... well, I don't think I breathed the entire time that I watched."
He laughed. "Yes, I can see why you would. My brother fought admirably, but you see, some of us do battle while others do tricks. As he and I illustrated yesterday."
Aemilia's smile faltered a bit but Thor's did not, and she looked up into his vivid blue eyes and wondered if he could truly be as dumb as she perceived him to be in that moment. "I suppose that's true. Although I would consider placing an unliftable magical hammer on Loki's chest to keep him from rising to be quite a trick of its own."
Thor stared at her for a moment as his smile slowly shrank. "Well..."
"It's not as if that spear that he was wielding could match the strength of Mjolnir," Aemilia added. "It was not a fair fight by any means. And, if I may speak so boldly, I suspect that without the aid of your hammer, the result may have been quite different."
"You do speak boldly," Thor replied, seemingly unsure of whether to be offended or amused. He seemed to be tilting towards the latter.
"I am only being honest, my Prince. I admire both you and your brother greatly. And equally, as I believe all of Asgard should."
From the corner of her eye, Aemilia could see Gunnvarr watching the exchange, and others whispering amongst themselves as they walked by. She quickly put a smile on her face and turned back to Thor, saying, "In any case - thank you very much for the welcome, my Prince. And congratulations on your coming coronation."
She gave him a curtsy then, and walked past him, hearing quick footsteps behind her that belonged to Gunnvarr. The servant quickly caught up and began leading Aemilia towards her room once more, as the soon-to-be King watched her leave with a vague smile on his face.
"Be mindful of your surroundings, child," Gunnvarr whispered as they walked the halls. "This palace is full of rumors and your arrival is sure to only spark more, especially when others see you carrying on with a Prince like that."
Aemilia didn't say anything, unsure of what Gunnvarr knew and what she didn't. She seemed to be a rather unusual servant, very motherly and even outspoken, and she suspected the Queen had chosen her to tend to her arrival for those very reasons.
The room that had been prepared for her was on the same wing as Frigga's and Loki's rooms, but on a much lower level, so it did not take a long trek to get there. She expected to be blown away by the luxury that she would find there, and what she found did not disappoint.
The room was easily twice the size of Aemilia's room back at home, which was hardly small itself. There was a sitting area, a study, and the bedchambers themselves, which housed a huge four-poster bed that reminded her greatly of Loki's bed. There was a balcony outside of two large glass doors shielded by shimmering white curtains, and the view of the city from it was unlike anything she'd had back at home. But, in Aemlia's opinion, the true wonder to behold was the bath.
Nothing could compare to even the most standard bath in all of the palace, which hers may or may not have been, but it mattered little. The bathtub was large and ornate, nearly big enough to swim in, and from the one bath she'd shared with Loki in the past, she knew what sort of oils and salts and healing bubbles would be at her disposal. The water itself seemed to be made of different stuff from the rest of Asgard's water.
As soon as Gunnvarr had finished her fussing and left Aemilia to herself in her new room, the first thing that she did was head straight for the bath, leaving everything to be explored later. It gave her time to think and also managed to relax her in a way that was greatly needed at that point in time.
She spent her intentionally incredibly long bath mulling over everything, trying to figure out exactly what the Queen's motivations were in bringing her here. Was she merely lending a helping hand to a girl in need, or was she also attempting to play matchmaker, now that Aemilia was no longer spoken for by another? And how exactly the Queen had known of her current situation to begin with was quite a mystery.
Absently, Aemilia wondered how Ayre would react when she learned that Aemilia had been royally intercepted on her way to the outer provinces. She did so wish that she could witness that reaction.
Underlying all of her thoughts, however, was a growing anxiety that crept up further every time she thought on Loki, and the fact that eventually, one way or another, she would inevitably run into him. Whether he would seek her out - or she him - or if it was a coincidence like with Thor in the halls, it would surely happen in time. And, judging by her reaction to the long-distance eye contact in the courtyard, she shuddered to think of how she would feel standing in his presence once more.
The water in the bath never ran cold, despite her very long time in it, and when she finally wandered back out into her bedchambers - in a robe supplied by the palace that felt as if it were made of actual silk-spun fur - she found a tray of assorted foods awaiting her on a table in the sitting area.
She'd literally bathed well past lunch, so her stomach growled in appreciation of the sight as she made her way to the tray, but before she could so much as pluck a single berry from it, Gunnvarr came bustling in and stopped her.
"Oh, don't spoil your appetite, my lady!" she exclaimed with a smile. "I've just now come to have you prepare to have supper with the Queen in her chambers."
"Oh," Aemilia said, a bit surprised by the servant's sudden appearance.
"I've also come to tell you that the Queen has seen fit to put me in your service while you are here, my lady."
This didn't surprise Aemilia at all. She smiled. "I see. I will give the Queen my thanks over supper."
Gunnvarr smiled back and then marched towards Aemilia's new enormous closet. "Well, then, let's get you dressed and ready."
By now, she had achieved a certain level of comfort with the Queen, so Aemilia didn't feel overly anxious as Gunnvarr led her down the halls towards Frigga's private rooms. She had changed into a flowing coral-colored dress and Gunnvarr had yanked half of her hair into a hold at the back of her head - she wasn't a particularly gentle handmaid - and her face showed no trace of any of the tears she had spent the previous night shedding. She looked wonderful, but she was rather lightheaded and quite in need of food, so her steps were a bit more hurried than they normally would have been.
Once outside of the Queen's doors, Aemilia stood and waited while Gunnvarr knocked softly. She let her gaze drift down the hall, down to where she knew Loki's room lay, and she didn't turn her gaze away until the door opened.
Another servant had opened the door, then smiled and motioned for them to enter. Aemilia complied, then smiled herself as she walked in and saw the Queen sitting regally at her table. Frigga smiled and stood as she dismissed the servants with a slight wave of her hand. "My dear. It's good to see you here again. I am glad you made it safely."
Aemilia bowed slightly before she felt herself being pulled into a light hug, and after Frigga released her, she smiled and said, "Thank you, my Queen - I am incredibly grateful for what you've done for me, but I am a bit... confused."
"Confused?" Frigga raised an eyebrow. "Why ever so?"
"Well... I am meant to be punished and serving out my punishment in poverty and ridicule," she pointed out. "I was not anticipating being offered safe haven here at the palace by the very Queen herself."
"I am aware of your struggles, dear girl," Frigga said comfortingly. "And I believe that such a 'punishment' would serve neither you or or your family well. You are welcomed to stay with us as for as long as you would desire."
"Thank you," Aemilia replied, genuinely floored by the Queen's generosity. "But - if I may ask - how did you know of what happened?"
Frigga then cast her eyes downward slightly and smiled, about to reply when the door suddenly burst open and an extremely, painfully familiar voice filled the room.
"I'm here, Mother - what is so 'urgent' that you demanded I come here on such short..."
Loki stopped short when he saw Aemilia standing next to his mother. She froze as well, watching his slight shock give way to a cool mask of indifference. She tried to do the same, school her features to appear not to care at all that he was there, but as always, she was a poor liar.
He turned his eyes to Frigga, looking wholly unamused. "Mother."
"I'm glad you made it, my son," Frigga smiled. Then she feigned a look of surprise and sighed apologetically, "Oh dear - I've just remembered, your father requested I join him in the Great Hall for dinner." She turned to Aemilia and gave her hands a brief squeeze. "Do forgive me, my dear. But," she let go and turned towards Loki, "do not have the supper I had sent here go to waste on my account."
Loki glared softly at Frigga as she kissed him on the cheek, then disappeared from her chambers with a satisfied smile on her face. Aemilia shifted slightly on her feet when the doors noisily closed behind the Queen, and when she chanced a look back up to Loki, she found that he had turned his glare to her.
Silence stretched for one long, comically awkward moment, until Aemilia decided that it was ridiculous. "Loki."
"Quite an informal way to address a Prince."
Oh. So this was how he was going to act. Wonderful.
Still glaring at her, he eventually walked past her and deposited himself at his mother's table, removing the lid from the dinner tray with a lazy hand. She watched for a moment, until she rolled her eyes and quickly walked to the table herself.
She sat across from Loki and didn't flinch when he looked at her as if she was insane for having actually sat there. "Is this truly how you are going to behave?" she asked.
"What else would you prefer?" he asked.
She answered with a question of her own. "Do you know why I am here?"
"I assume that my mother foolishly thought it would be wise to meddle following one of your rehearsals," he muttered. "Though I don't understand why you went along with it. Surely your fiancé must be wondering what's keeping you."
"Then you do not know."
He looked up at her and replied mockingly, "So enlighten me."
She took a deep breath, her hunger momentarily forgotten as she gathered her words. Loki ate in silence as he waited for her to speak. She decided that he only needed the abridged version of events for now. "I refused to marry him. So my mother banished me. And the Queen had me brought here when she learned of it."
Genuine surprise flickered across his face. It softened his previously hardened features, and she felt her insides begun to squirm traitorously. She knew that he would always have this effect on her - it was inescapable.
Surprise gave way to suspicion on his face. "She brought you here? To stay?"
"Yes," Aemilia replied. It was always difficult to read him, but right now, it was impossible.
He turned his eyes back to his plate after a moment, carelessly shrugging. His next words shouldn't have cut her, but they still did. "Then she is indeed meddling foolishly."
He stabbed a vegetable with his fork, as if it had personally wronged him, and he laced as much venom into his words as he could muster. He stared at his plate, refusing to look back up at her.
All things considered, he was actually being quite mild compared to how he wanted to act.
If this silly girl thought that she could reject him and push him away for some ridiculous morality-based reason, then expect to pick up where they'd left off simply because she was stupid enough to go and get herself banished and lucky enough to be rescued by his mother, then she was more foolish than he'd taken her for.
Even if it was taking all of his self control to not flip the table over and take her right there on the floor. Well, perhaps not that floor - this was his mother's room, after all, and he wasn't entirely without decency.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you've no wish to see me," he heard her say quietly. He still didn't look up. Looking up would mean looking at her, her eyes, her lips, her soft hair that he craved to feel running between his fingers. "I had just... hoped that it wouldn't be like this."
"Hope can be quite a disappointing thing," he supplied, his tone bored. "What did you hope for?"
"I won't speak to you unless you look at me."
He snapped his eyes up and glared at her with as much derision as he could manage. He noticed that she was breathing through her mouth, even trembling slightly. She must have been exceedingly nervous.
She gave him her answer. "I do not know what I hoped for. But I do not want your anger."
"Hm. But what is it you told me that night that we first met? 'We do not always get what we want'. It's true, is it not?"
Truth be told, he wasn't sure what he was aiming for. He could think of no desirable outcome that would result from his taunting words. It just felt good to watch the hurt and annoyance flicker across her face when he spoke them.
"What made you snap?" he asked casually.
She actually perked up some at his question. Her sad expression became... determined. She raised a brow and replied, "He kissed me. Really kissed me. Long and slowly. Deeply. Out in my mother's gardens, during our engagement party."
His jaw clenched, and she saw it. He cursed his own stupidly jealous reaction. She'd drawn it from him on purpose.
"And I hated every moment of it."
"And that was enough to make you break the law?" Loki asked, trying to block out the revolting image of that guardsmen jamming his tongue down Aemilia's throat.
"It was enough to make me see that I would rather live a life in exile than live a miserable lie with a man I do not love."
"And yet here you are, not in exile, but a palace, dining with a Prince."
Aemilia shrugged slightly. "Your mother is a generous Queen."
He nodded. "Far more generous a Queen than I am a Prince."
She was silent for a moment. He didn't take his eyes off of her this time.
"You act as if I wronged you by refusing to be your whore while I was engaged."
Anger stirred within him at her words, anger that was largely not even her fault, but the fault of everything else that the last few days had held for him. But she was the closest target, and she was looking at him as if she could see right through his skin, so he coiled and struck, because he didn't know what else to do. "You act as if you were ever anything more to me than my whore."
He expected the swiftness with which she shot out of her and rounded the table to slap him. Unlike the other times she'd struck him in the past, he didn't enjoy it in the least.
"You poisonous bastard," she seethed at him as he looked up at her with narrowed, angered eyes. He saw the genuine hurt etched on her face, and it wasn't satisfying. It made his stomach turn. "If you're going to call me such a thing, at least have the decency to believe it when you say it."
He stared at her in slight confusion. She merely looked at him in disgust before adding, "Your lies mean nothing if they lack conviction."
He watched blankly as she turned and left. His cheek still stung, but the sudden, wrenching ache in his chest at watching her leave stung much deeper.
She didn't walk, but stomped back to her room, feeling her hands and palms become unnaturally heated as her anger amplified the magic in her veins and pushed it down to her very fingertips. Now she understood why Loki always broke things when he was angry - she had to actively fight to not break something, and she wasn't typically one to smash things when angry.
She cursed him inwardly with every foul word known to her tongue, again cursing her stupidity in picking this infuriating bastard to fall in love with. Of all of the available men in Asgard that she could have had, she had to pick the most emotionally immature, ragingly possessive, painfully confusing man of them all.
For a split second when he'd uttered that word, a word that he'd never used to describe her before, she almost let it crush her. If he had meant it, she knew it would have changed things. But it was glaringly obvious, after all the time she'd spent with him and how well she knew his face now, that he did not mean it even slightly. And that made her even more angry.
That he would say what he had strictly for the purpose of lashing out, to purposefully and unnecessarily complicate matters, made her want to scream. Loki made everything so much more difficult than was necessary - how did he not see this? He was working furiously against himself and his own interests and didn't even realize it.
When she finally reached her room, she threw herself inside of it and was relieved to find it empty of her new handmaid. She began pacing back and forth, eyes closed, trying to calm down the energy coursing through her veins before it escaped her containment and broke her beautiful new room.
Meanwhile, Loki wandered off towards the Great Hall, intending on having a word with his mother and expressing his deep disapproval of her actions. But before he could so much as glance her way once he'd arrived, Thor appeared out of nowhere with a huge cup of ale in his hand, blocking his view of the entire hall.
"Brother! There you are!"
Loki sighed. "Yes, here I am."
"You," Thor grinned, slapping a hand on his shoulder, "must be very pleased with today's events."
Loki looked up at Thor with utterly unamused eyes and replied, "Do I look pleased? Where is Mother?"
Thor furrowed his brows and slowly dropped his hand. "But... has something happened between you and the lady?"
Loki rolled his eyes. "Thor, I am truly in no mood to discuss -"
Thor suddenly raised a finger and interrupted the younger brother. "Now listen, brother - I spoke to your Lady in the halls today when she arrived, and she is perfect for you. Truly. Do not let her slip away from you."
Thor's voice was giving him a headache. "Thor -"
"She's so... outspoken! Very rare among maidens. And honest, which I suppose makes her your opposite but -"
"Thor, I really -"
"And she's quite fair!" Thor went on, another big grin on his face. "In fact, if you hadn't already staked a claim on her, I myself might -"
That was it. "Never mind," Loki muttered, turning around and leaving Thor to his ale and his friends. He couldn't stand to talk about the girl one more damn time to anyone, not even Frigga. Perhaps especially not to Frigga.
It hadn't taken long for Aemilia to get her anger under control. Once she did, she sat the desk in the study section of her chambers, lost in thought.
She was sure that most women in her position would not want to see Loki any time soon after what he'd said to her, whether he'd meant it or not. There was a certain amount of time required to punish a man for such an offense, but she had no desire to punish him like that. In fact, his outburst had left her wanting to do nothing more than march right up to his room and not leave until she'd penetrated his ridiculous defenses, because the truth was, she knew she meant something to him.
She didn't think he loved her - she wasn't so bold as to hope for it either - but she knew that he had grown attached to her in their affair, far more attached than he seemed to even realize. And after she had been the one to end it, she supposed that it only made sense for a man such as Loki to treat her badly when faced with her presence for the first time following the split.
She could give him time and hope that he came around. She could wait for him to mature a bit emotionally - and he surely needed to - before she attempted to even try to get close to him again. Or she could recognize that nothing had really changed, that he was still a terribly bad idea, and that she should endeavor to keep from becoming entangled with him again.
Any of those ideas would have made an abundance of logical sense.
But, Aemilia was here, in the palace due to the kindness of the Queen, cast out from the only family she'd ever known, and still reeling under the truth of her parentage that she had learned only one night ago. She was alone, horribly unsure of what the future held, and she did not want to spend this night sitting in her room overthinking it all until she fell into a fitful sleep.
If there was one thing Loki had taught her, it was that if she wanted something, and if she had it in her power to take it, then she should. She thought back on all of those times that he had simply appeared before her, regardless of where she was or what she was doing, and taken her as he pleased. She thought of all those times he'd growled the word "mine" into her ear, all the ways in which he acted as though he owned her, and her choice became clear.
She stood up from her desk and walked out of her room with renewed purpose.
He couldn't read. He couldn't think. He couldn't focus.
He couldn't even spend five minutes plotting his brother's downfall without his thoughts turning to that infuriating girl. She was easier to cast out of his mind when she wasn't under the same roof as he. Knowing she was so close, that she would be sleeping in his own home for the foreseeable future, made her that much harder to keep out of his head. And now was far too crucial of a time to let his mind slip like this.
He had read the same sentence on a page of the book that sat open before him on his desk for the fifth straight time when a knock on his door caught his attention. He looked at the door and narrowed his eyes - servants didn't knock like that. This knock had started off strong and then became weak, almost timid, at the end, like whomever was knocking had begun to lose their nerve.
He wasn't surprised, then, when he walked to the door and opened it to find her on the other side, staring at him defiantly. Of course it was her. But that was where her predictability ended.
He opened his mouth to say something sharp just before she literally pushed past him and forced her way inside of his room. He hadn't been expecting it, so he hadn't been able to stop it.
"This is ridiculous," she stated as he closed the door. When he whirred around to face her, she took a step closer to him. "Absolutely ridiculous."
"What makes you think you can storm into my room like this?" he spat, making sure there was an edge to his voice.
"At least I had the courtesy to knock, which you never bothered to do for me," she retorted. "But I did not come here to fight with you."
He snorted, leaning against his door with his arms crossed. "Yes, I can imagine what you came here for. Sorry darling, I'm not in the mood."
"I didn't come here for that either," she said, her time becoming just a bit quieter.
"Then what?" he challenged. "What could you possibly want from me?"
He watched then as she let out a breath, casting her eyes off to the side as her shoulders sagged fractionally.
"I came here to talk to you."
He eyed her skeptically. "You came here to talk to me, after what I said to you during our last conversation?"
She looked him in the eye. "I know you didn't mean it."
"Can you really be so sure?"
She didn't hesitate in her response. "Yes."
He might have been more annoyed if she hadn't been right, but unfortunately, she was. Even when he'd considered her to be little more than a greatly fascinating plaything to obsess over, he'd never thought of her as a whore. And not just because he was her first and only lover.
She was staring at him now, and he felt that irritating and familiar sensation of being seen through to his very bones. Then she spoke again. "Believe it or not, Loki, I've come to know you over these months. I wouldn't claim to always know when you are lying, but I knew today. And it wasn't the first time I've seen beyond your falsehoods."
"And now," he said, straightening up and letting his arms fall to his sides as he began to slowly walk towards her, "after being cast out from your own family and being taken in by virtual strangers... you come to me. For what? Familiarity? Comfort?"
His tone wasn't exactly mocking, but it wasn't gentle either. He stood before her, quite closely now, and looked down at her from his full height. She met his gaze unflinchingly. "Yes."
"Nothing else?" he inquired, leaning in closer until her cheeks flushed at his proximity.
She answered as honestly as she could, her eyes dropping to his lips briefly before meeting his gaze again. "For the moment."
He gave a tiny, barely perceptible smirk. "All right."
Then he turned and gestured towards his couch. She followed him there silently, and he wondered if she was thinking about the last time they'd found themselves on that very same couch. It was certainly high on his mental list of personal favorite memories.
Once they were seated, he on one end and she on the other, close enough to him without being awkward but far enough to reman respectable, he waved a hand meant to tell her to begin. It was slightly pompous, but he was a Prince, and he didn't care anyway. He watched as she took a breath and began.
"I didn't tell you the full story."
It only took a moment or two for her to remedy that. His eyes widened when she told him that she'd told her mother of their affair, and had identified him as her lover. He wasn't angry that she did so - he had little to nothing to lose from anyone knowing - but he was greatly surprised that she would acknowledge him to her parents. Though not as surprised as he was that she was apparently the offspring of a long-running adulterous affair.
"And your father is dead?" he asked, for the sake of clarification, when she was done telling her tale.
"He died a week ago," she replied.
"What was his name?"
"Eileifr," she paused. "Why? Have you heard of him?"
The slightly hopeful tone of her voice made him feel genuine pity for her. He shook his head. "No. But you could ask my mother. She keeps close ties with the Vanir."
Aemilia nodded. "So much has happened in such a short amount of time... I did not intend to burden you with my tale of woe. But it's become quite clear to me in the last week, and especially the last day, how used to your company I have allowed myself to become."
He looked away at those words. He felt her gaze on him remain.
"The fight... it wasn't fair."
He clenched his jaw. He had no desire to speak of his and Thor's fight.
"You should have won."
"Enough," he said quietly. "It's over."
"I've just laid myself out quite plainly before you," she pointed out. "You do not need to act around me as you do in front of the others."
He looked at her, trying to fully understand exactly what had brought her here, to his room, tonight. "Tell me why you came here tonight. The real reason."
"I've already told you."
"You've told me a partial truth."
She sighed, reaching a hand up to run it through her hair as she glanced away. "I don't think I need to say the words for you to understand."
"No, but perhaps I wish to hear them anyway."
"There are no shortage of things I'd also like to hear, but as you made so abundantly clear earlier," she smiled, "we don't always get what we want."
He returned her smile, leaning forward a bit, resting his elbows on his spread knees. He let the smile fade from his face before he spoke again. "I nearly came for you last night."
"Why didn't you?" she asked softly.
"My attention was required elsewhere." He watched her as she nodded, tilting his head slightly as he spoke again. "After all that's happened... I admit that I am surprised that you are here."
"I am not here because I am weak," she said, slowly rising to her feet. She took slow steps away from the couch, and he watched silently for a moment, letting his eyes fall over her form.
"I never accused you of being weak."
"I used to think that I was," she said, moving in the direction of his two closed glass doors that led to his balcony. He rose and quietly followed her, watching her curiously. "I used to think that I couldn't say to no you. But I did."
"Yes you did."
She placed her fingertips to the glass, staring out at the darkened but vividly colorful night sky. "I don't have to anymore."
He stood behind her, close enough to smell the soft, clean scent of her hair but not close enough to touch her. "No you don't."
"And I don't want to." She turned, and as she faced him, she looked up into his eyes, and he felt a stirring from somewhere deep within. "I hated saying no to you."
"Then do not."
Despite the simmering rage and hatred that sat now at the far edge of his mind, he felt a semblance of peace for the first time in what had felt like ages. Having her this close, feeling her warmth radiate from her proximity, hearing her words in his ears, it was enough to calm the storm within, even if just for a short time.
"It cannot be like before," she said. He ran his fingertips along her cheek and relished her responding shiver.
"What would you ask of me?" he asked softly, eyes running along her lips and then down to her neck, places that called for the touch of his mouth.
"Do you care for me?"
He tucked her hair behind her ear, lips quirking a bit at her question. "Surely you know the answer to that."
"Say it."
He liked her like this. She'd grown in the last week, gained a clear strength in the wake of what would have made a lesser woman weak. "Yes, Aemilia. I care for you."
"Then take care of me."
It was a soft little plea, and he understood fully what she meant without her having to elaborate. Caring was not just an abstract concept, or a mere thought or emotion. It was an act, with many different forms and interpretations, even more so the act of taking care of another. And he had never performed such an act before.
She touched his face and added, "I will always take care of you in return."
Her words were an unexpected jolt to his very core. He was reminded of something she had said before, the night that she had refused him, something that had also brought a shock to his being...
Do you not know? Am I not pathetically obvious enough in my emotions for you to grasp what you've become to me?
Her feelings for him were enough to drown him. They were etched so clearly upon her beautiful face, swirling even in her eyes, and the only way to breathe was to dive deeper, immerse himself within her dangerous depths.
He'd been a fool to ever let her go.
He kissed her, and it was breath to his starving lungs.
She was trembling, though not from fear or anxiety. She was open and exposed, vulnerable and breakable in this moment, and she was trusting him to take care of her - him. Loki, mischief maker, liar, trickster, and so much more, held her in the palm of his hand, and he knew it.
His kiss was soft, sweeter than any she'd tasted on his lips before, and his fingers in her hair clutched and held her tightly but gently. There was an edge of desperation in both his kiss and his touch, something that told her he needed this as much as she did. She buried her hands in his hair and pulled him close as she lost herself in his kiss.
He broke away with an almost silent gasp, resting his forehead against hers as their eyes opened and met one another's gaze.
Only a week ago, she'd thought she would never have this again. It was unthinkable.
"Do you hate them?"
The whispered question took her aback. She drew away slightly to have a clearer look at him. "Do I hate whom?"
"Your parents," he said. "For lying to you. Do you hate them?"
She shook her head. "No. My father... I hold no anger for him. I don't believe that I will ever forgive my mother. I despise her at the moment but I do not hate her, exactly."
He furrowed his brows slightly and asked, "How?"
She furrowed her own brows in return. "Why are you asking me this?"
He looked at her for a moment longer before his arms slowly unwound from her, and she felt slightly bereft as he turned and began slowly walking away. He ran a hand through his hair, and she followed him as he walked seemingly without aim.
"Is it not the normal, expected response to a loved one who's wronged you?" he asked, coming to a stop between his bed and a table that sat nearby. "To hate them?"
"Not for me," she replied, suddenly understanding the reason for his line of questioning. "Do you feel as if you hate your brother?"
She was met with silence. She continued to stare at the back of his head as she added, "You cannot have true hate without love. That's what I've heard, anyway. And I do believe it."
"Is that why you once told me that you hated me?" he asked, turning slowly and meeting her gaze once again.
"I believe that you are deflecting," she smiled in return.
"I am only curious," he shrugged, a tight smile on his own lips.
She wondered what was going on inside of his head. There was something different about him now, something that he was trying to hide. She assumed that it had to do with Thor, and the events of the last week.
She then acted on instinct, closing the distance between them and drawing him into an embrace. She stood on the tips of her toes as she wrapped her arms around him, breathing against his neck and trying not to laugh at his somewhat stiff initial response. His arms hung at his sides and she could just imagine the slightly confused look on his face.
But after a moment, one of his arms finally moved, and his hand came to rest gently on her back. His other hand rose and brushed her hair back so that he could lower his head and nuzzle her neck just slightly.
Every nerve in her body had been called to life the moment he'd kissed her in front of the glass doors, and they were still alight now as she simply held him in her arms. She wanted him, needed him, but the thought of being slammed against a wall or thrown on to his bed was almost unbearable.
So, she asked him for something that she'd never before wanted to ask for, in the form of a soft kiss to his lips. His equally soft response and lack of roughness from either his hands or his lips was more than she could have hoped for, an answer to what she'd feared was a silly request.
Despite his soft touch, she was still panting when they eventually broke apart for a moment. His hands rose to cradle her face, and he appeared amused as his eyes swept along her lips and cheeks, on up to her eyes. "I can nearly hear your heart pounding."
She replied by placing a hand directly over his heart, through the thin fabric of his shirt. He'd shied away from this very touch once before, but this time, he didn't flinch. "And I can feel yours pounding just as hard."
He responded with another kiss, and his arms stayed wrapped around her as he slowly walked her backwards, towards his bed. He didn't break the kiss as he eased her down to his sheets, and just the act of being laid down on his bed rather than tossed to it or simply conjured into it was a new experience.
His lips barely left hers as they began undressing the other, their movements unhurried, though there was a desperation amid the languid movements that gave them a sense of urgency. Despite it, she savored every brush of his fingers against her skin, the way that he actually left her dress intact and wearable as he pulled it from her body. She felt a slight thrill at this, as if it were her first time with him, and in a sense, maybe it was.
While she was already lost in bliss, Loki seemed to be in the midst of a great struggle. He lay over her, his shirt discarded on the floor on top of her dress, kissing her neck and trailing his fingers down her chest, and she could feel his slight tremble. She couldn't tell if it was because he was holding back, or because he genuinely didn't know how to do this.
He lifted his head and kissed her lips, shuddering against her as her tongue met his, the skills that he'd taught her coming back to haunt him. She took advantage of his seeming weakness and rolled them over, pushing him down on his back without letting her lips leave his.
His hands pushed up the thin little slip that she wore as her fingers curled in his hair, and even still, she felt his hands shaking just slightly as they ran up her sides.
"I don't want you to hold back," she said, breaking away to meet his eyes, and her breath caught at what she saw in those green depths. He was actually nervous.
"I'm not," he replied, confirming what she saw and felt.
For once, she felt like they were on equal footing. He didn't know how to be gentle, and she didn't either - she knew only what he'd taught her and what they had shared previously. At least this time, they were slipping into uncharted territory together.
She brushed a few runaway strands of hair from his face, taking a moment to commit to memory what vulnerability looked like on that beautiful face of his before she kissed him again. He moaned lightly into her mouth and then rolled them back over.
Things moved only slightly quicker then, her hands moving to the waist of his trousers and getting them halfway off before he disposed of them, and the rest of what he wore, fully, adding to the pile on the floor. She reached for him and pulled him back down to her, latching her lips to the pulse on his neck as his hands slipped away the last little scrap of fabric on her hips. She sucked lightly on the sensitive skin and pulled a groan from his throat, just before he placed a hand in her hair and gently pushed her head back down to the pillow that lay underneath it. He kissed her with the same quiet but smoldering intensity that she saw in his eyes, and his hand stayed in her hair while the other slid over a breast and tortured it.
She felt him against her thigh, hard and needy, but he set out to touch and kiss every inch of her, as if it really was the first time and he wanted to memorize her all over again. She watched him as he kissed down over her collarbone, over the swell of her breasts and teasingly on the peaks of each, entranced by the sensations but also by his closed eyes and the determination of his set brows. He was still shaking, and now so was she, but it was subtle and she barely noticed.
His lips and tongue traced over her ribs, nearly tickled her when they reached her sides and then sent fire trickling down to her depths as he kissed above and then under her navel, growing slower the lower his mouth crept. Her fingers slid into his hair, and occasionally his eyes would peer up into hers, though they never lost their intensity.
The first touch of his tongue to her core was too much, and her voice was stifled by the unrivaled intensity of his touch - she could not have cried out no matter how much she wanted to. Loki, however, faced no obstacle in letting out a deep, almost relieved-sounding moan at that first touch, and it surprised her as much as it aroused her.
If he'd had his way, he would have dragged it out, and he was trying to, judging by his lazy but intense pace and pressure. But she was far too sensitive, too close after only a moment or two of his attentions, and she found her voice again as she helplessly fell apart.
He rode out her end with her, letting her down easy and not letting her go until she was still and quite limp before him. He looked up and her eyes were closed as she panted, her chest heaving up and down as her mind slowly returned to her.
She opened her eyes when she felt him crawl back up her body, leaving a trail of kisses on her skin until he reached her mouth once more. His kiss was desperate - not hard or demanding, but full of need and something else that she couldn't place until he broke away and looked into her eyes.
"I need you."
One sentence had never meant so much, encompassing so many different things, with so few words.
The words spilled from his mouth before he could help it, and he blamed her. He blamed everything on her, and he needed her all the more for it.
The storm that she calmed was still there, still on the edge of his mind, but he could not feel it or sense it now. Nothing could have drawn him away from this moment, not even his anxiety that came with realizing what he was about to do.
She seemed stunned and yet quietly joyous at his words, and he let her pull him down for a sweet kiss. For all the times they had done this before, in this same bed, he understood full well the difference in the atmosphere in this time, as well as the difference in her and even in him. This was something more, something terrifying and unknown and wonderful.
This was also his last moment to turn back and save himself, to spare them both the potential consequences.
But he let the moment pass and shifted against her until he felt their bodies align just right. He was on his elbows, hands on either side of her head as his fingers twisted in her hair, and his eyes stayed on hers as he pushed forward, filling her completely, at last.
Her eyes slid shut as he stilled and so did his, and he dropped his lips down to her parted ones as he remained unmoving for a moment. This was new and far more daunting than he ever would have expected.
When he could no longer stand to be still, he began to move slowly, tentatively, differently. One of her hands stayed in his hair, at the back of his head, while the other held on to his back, and he opened his eyes to chance a look into hers. The desire and affection he saw spurred him on, and he closed his eyes again as he gave in to instinct he didn't know he had.
For the first time, he took the time to simply feel, to perceive every last sensation and feeling that passed between them as he moved. He let his hips just roll against hers and savored the kisses she placed along his jaw as she made her way to his lips, all as the quietly blissful sounds she made sent him further into the most wonderfully foreign daze he'd ever fallen victim to.
He could not speak, and wouldn't have even if he could; now was not the time for his usual lascivious words or his occasional attempts to draw the same out of her. Her touch was all he needed, and the blindingly sweet affection he saw every time his eyes caught hers.
He wondered if it was love that he saw in those beautiful orbs.
If it was, was it also love that made him act this way, take her this way, feel this way about her?
With a groan, he rolled them over, just so he could watch her move on top of him. He thought she looked magnificent, worthy of her own throne as her hair fell in tumbling waves down her shoulders, framing her beautifully content face as she took over. His hands roamed her legs, her hips. stomach, and breasts, every inch of her that he could reach, until it was too much and he had to feel her underneath him once more.
Time meant nothing, and neither of them were racing to the end or craving it; this time it was about the journey more than the destination.
In the midst of his bliss, as he kissed her long and slowly and maintained the languid but deep pace, he felt a shiver of surprise and pleasure as she suddenly clenched around him and gasped into his mouth. He slowed down to keep from spilling over himself and watched her climax play out on her face, wondering if it had taken her by surprise as well.
Her grip on his hair loosened as she became limp once more, and he couldn't help but kiss her face as she tried to catch her breath. He kept his movements slower but did not stop them, waiting until she began moving with him again to resume their previous pace.
Finally, he found himself able to speak again, if only for a short moment. He brushed his lips against her ear, breathing heavily as he whispered with more emotion than he meant to allow, "You are beautiful."
He felt her shudder against him, then felt her hands take his face and pull his lips back to hers. She kissed him softly, then held his forehead to hers as she looked up into his eyes.
He reached up a hand and covered one of hers that held his cheek, gently taking hold of it and drawing it away, to the small space between their faces. But instead of letting go, he looked at their joined hands, then, keeping his eyes there, entwined his fingers with hers. His eyes flickered to her surprised ones for just a second or two, and he realized that he'd never held a woman's hand like this before.
He moved their tangled hands down to the pillow, beside her head, then took her other hand and gave it the same treatment as he felt himself suddenly overwhelmed. He couldn't draw this out any longer.
He kissed her with a gentle but fiery passion, and she returned it with equal fervor, clutching his hands tightly and rocking her hips up to meet his as he sped up by just a fraction. They stayed like that until the end, intertwined and locked in a consuming passion that neither had ever known before.
His end washed over him and left him gasping, made all the more powerful for the time he'd taken to get there, as well as the breathtaking tightness around him as he sent Aemilia spiraling off into her third release of the night. The intensity of it was a shock, taking him by intoxicating surprise, and for the first time in a long time - perhaps in his life - he found himself truly satisfied.
In the daze that followed, he was brought back to life by soft little fingers moving gently through his hair. He was utterly exhausted, completely spent, and his eyelids felt impossibly heavy as he rolled himself off of her at last.
Heavy as they were, he kept his eyes open to meet the gaze of his lover, and as he came to rest on his side, he watched her thought process unfold across her face.
She was as satisfied as he was, possibly overjoyed even, but he saw confusion and even a little apprehension in her eyes. It took a moment for his sluggish mind to catch up and realize that she was silently fretting over what would happen next. Once he realized it, he quickly set her mind at ease.
He reached out and pulled her close, nestling her against his chest and holding her tightly, assuring her that tonight, there would be no foolish parting of ways or sleeping away from one another. Tonight she would sleep in his arms, and he didn't care if it was wise or not.
He pulled away from her for a moment, only so that he could snatch up a tangled sheet and throw it over them. He caught her eyes as he began to lay back down, and he wished he could forever capture the pure contentment in her eyes. But instead, all he could do was kiss her forehead, then her lips when she offered them.
He didn't say a word, because for once, he didn't think words could possibly do justice to what now lay between them. It was enough, more than enough, to see the little smile on her face after he kissed her, and to hear the contented exhale that left her lungs as she settled into his arms and closed her eyes.
The storm could, and would, return to his troubled mind tomorrow; for now, there was only peace.
A/N: see, guys? That angst wasn't drawn out, now was it? :p That's not to say there won't be more to come, of course (because there will), but still :) This is probably my favorite chapter so far, next to the opera one, and I've been dying to write it for what feels like forever. It actually ended up the way is planned it in my head, which is rather rare, so I'm extra excited about it :D Thank you to all the reviewers/faves/alerts/lurky lurkersons, and to midnightwings96 for all of her usual awesomeness. Hope you guys all had a lovely and angst-free Christmas! One of my gifts was an autographed, framed Loki pic, so be jealous, people! :p lol. Oh, and since this story broke 200 reviews (YAY!) I owe you guys another bonus chapter, which I haven't started yet but it'll be coming at some point soon. Thanks again for all of the amazing feedback, you guys are awesome :D