When she awoke, she had no sense of time, no sense of anything. Her mind was a haze, her eyes heavy and begging for more sleep as she forced them open, and she didn't even have it in her to wonder exactly what was happening, or why she felt like a limp, dead weight all over.
She squinted as she made her eyes open fully. Firelight flickered on the wall to her left, which was a wall she didn't recognize, and with a groan, she tried to sit up.
Pain shot through her abdomen at the very same moment that a soft hand came to rest on top of her wrist.
"Lie down, dear. It's best stay still for now."
Stars that had overtaken her vision in a fit of dizziness faded when her head hit the pillow beneath her once more. So confused she was, it took her far longer than it should have to recognize whom the voice belonged to. When her vision was fully clear, she opened her eyes and found the Queen sitting at her bedside, wearing a concerned and gentle expression that confused her until it sparked her memory at last.
It hit her like a tidal wave. The pain, the blood, the screaming. Being whisked to the healing room by Loki as she'd felt herself freezing from the inside out, blood rushing and draining from her at a speed she didn't think possible. The last thing she could recall before everything went black was a twisting, sharp pain that had gripped her entire lower body, and Loki shouting at Thor and the healers that he wouldn't leave her until he knew that she was all right.
"I lost it," she muttered, barely aware that she was speaking aloud. Dull pain radiated through her belly, ringing hollow and leaving an aching emptiness in its wake. It spoke the truth before Frigga could.
"I'm sorry, Aemilia," the Queen said softly, her hand soothing over Aemilia's arm. "So terribly sorry."
Aemilia stared at Frigga, at a loss for what to say. Frigga hadn't even known that she was pregnant.
Was.
Her throat felt suddenly tight, but she managed to croak out a question that she needed answered. "What happened?"
Frigga sighed and gently began, "You hemorrhaged. Quite rapidly. You lost over half your blood, but Eir took exceptional care of you. There's been no permanent damage to you."
Aemilia blinked. Her eyes were dry, shock and confusion still her prevalent feelings as she asked, "But why? Why did this happen?"
Frigga shook her head, and Aemilia could have sworn that she saw the smallest flicker of regret cross the Queen's features before it vanished just as quickly. "They are unsure. But it was by no fault of your own."
Her head was spinning, her world reeling. "Loki - is he -"
"He's refused to leave your bedside since they allowed him back in, once your condition was stable. I only just convinced him to take a break and eat, not half an hour ago."
Hearing of Loki's devotion was a stab to her heart that barely distracted from the other pains washing over her. She remembered seeing the sheer panic in his eyes, reflected in her own, and it made her insides lurch to think about it.
How could something like this happen so suddenly? One minute she was pregnant - and conflicted about it, to be sure - and the next she was on the brink of death, as an unknown cause ripped the child from her very womb and left her struggling for her own life.
Things like this were so rare among the Aesir. She hadn't known a single woman in her family, or in any other, who had lost a pregnancy this way. This wasn't Midgard, where miscarriages were as common as births were.
In her confused and addled state, she could reach only one logical conclusion. Clearly, she must have done something to cause it.
Aemilia barely heard Eir shuffle into the room, and she barely acknowledged the healing goddess as she gently examined her. She took the potions offered and downed them each - one to replenish blood, one to speed the healing process, and one for pain - and answered Eir's questions robotically.
The pain potion took effect almost instantly, leaving a wave of numbness to wash over the pain in her body and briefly stilling her racing mind as she sighed in relief. Her eyes snapped open, however, when she heard very distinctly heavy footsteps sound from what she assumed was the doorway to her room.
"You can leave now, Mother, I..."
Their eyes met, and Aemilia's mouth ran even dryer than it already was at the sight of Loki freezing in place when he saw that she was awake. He looked nearly as badly as she felt; his eyes were red and hollow-looking, far from the bright depths of green that she was so used . His hair was haphazardly shoved back on his head and curled oddly at the ends, the tips dangling on slightly hunched shoulders that stiffened more the longer he stood there. He wasn't even dressed in his usual princely garb, but clad instead in just a green tunic and black pants, an almost crumpled-looking long black coat thrown over it. He was almost ghostly pale, and the strain and worry that he'd suffered under was starkly evident.
Frigga's hand on Aemilia's snapped her out of her daze. "I'll give the two of you your privacy. I'm here if you need anything, anything at all, dear."
"Thank you," Aemilia nodded gratefully to the Queen. Frigga gave her hand a slight squeeze before gracefully rising from her seat.
She paused briefly when she reached her son, placing her hand on his shoulder and giving him a reassuring, comforting look. Loki stared at the floor rather than meet her gaze, and when she left, he began quietly making his way to the seat that she had just vacated.
Aemilia watched him all the while, marveling at his disheveled appearance. She'd never seen him like this before.
He stared at his feet after he sat. Silence hung over them, so profound that she could almost see it wafting through the air between them. Loki's eyes were shining, and she stared, fascinated, as he seemed to fight to keep from crying.
He was completely still, aside from his hands fiddling with each other in his lap. She recognized it as one of his few nervous habits.
His voice caught her off guard and made her eyes snap from his hands to his face. "I thought I'd lost you."
The hoarseness of his voice and the fear laced with his words sent a jolt within her that cut through the numbness in her body. He was still staring at his hands, and she wondered if she looked so pale and terrible that it was why he wouldn't look at her. She had no idea how she looked and didn't really want to find out.
"How long has it been?" she asked quietly, frightened of the answer.
"Nearly three days," Loki answered quietly.
Her mouth fell open in shock. Three days? She had been unconscious for three days?
"I've been... pushing magic into you since they let me back in. Mostly to your heart, making it pump more blood more quickly to replace what you lost."
Now that he mentioned it, her heart did feel like it was racing almost painfully quickly. She looked at him - he still hadn't looked at her once - and realized that in the nearly three days she'd been out, if what Frigga said was true, Loki hadn't eaten a thing or rested while constantly pumping his magic into her to speed along her recovery. It was no shock then, how terrible he looked. But she couldn't help her shock at his actions.
"Thank you," she said, almost in a whisper. Her words made him finally meet her gaze and still his hands.
He stared at her for a long, nearly painful moment before looking away, and slowly lowering his face in his hands. He was seated close enough to her that with his head bowed, she was sure that her fingers could reach the top of his head.
Her arms felt like limp strings of nothingness, but she mustered up enough strength to reach for him. She slid her weak fingers through his hair, and almost immediately his hand rose to take hers and pried it away. He scooted forward slightly and placed his other arm on the bed, lowering his forehead to it and cradling her hand against his cheek.
Her heart, already under duress, fluttered and lurched as they sat there in silence. She wondered if his sadness and turmoil was all for her, or if some of it was for the baby they'd lost. She didn't want to ask. Either possibility would make her break through her current numb state, and she wasn't sure that she could handle that at the moment.
When he eventually raised his head, lifting up off of his arm and still holding her hand in his, he closed his eyes and then opened them, looking down while she watched a tear trail down his cheek.
He was unfairly beautiful even when he cried. Even when she was the one laying in bed, having narrowly escaped death, all she wanted to do was pull him close and comfort him. She wasn't sure who he was crying for, but just the presence of his tears amplified her own pain to impossible levels.
She tried to disentangle their hands and wipe the tear away, but Loki shook his head and held her hand to the bed. "I won't have you comforting me, Aemilia, not now."
She didn't say or do anything to reply, but instead kept observing him as he stared at their joined hands.
Eventually he spoke again. "When I found you... I tried to cast any spell that I could think of that would help you and the..." he trailed off, a moment passing before he righted himself and went on. "Nothing I did helped. Nothing."
Her memory flashed then, recalling Loki's hurried and hushed words that he'd spoken over her belly before Thor had burst into the washroom. It hurt everywhere, in every possible way, to recall those moments.
"I don't think anything could have been done, Loki," Aemilia said gently. "And you have done far more for me than I ever would have asked of you. I have only gratitude."
Loki scoffed, flinching at her words. "I've been all but useless to you, Aemilia. All of my knowledge and skill, and what good did it do."
Aemilia sighed, knowing there would be no getting through to him now.
They sat for a few more moments in silence until the creaking of an opening door and light footsteps garnered both of their attentions. It was a healer, bearing a tray of food, which was placed next to Aemilia's bed as the healer urged her to eat and drink.
"Also," the woman said before she turned to leave, "Prince Thor and Lord Fandral wish to see you now. What shall I tell them?"
Aemilia glanced at Loki, who looked slightly more irritated now but gave her a small shrug anyway. "They may come in," she replied quietly.
The healer nodded. "Eat. The sooner you do, the sooner you'll regain your strength and be back in your chambers. I will send them in after a few moments."
Aemilia nodded, eyeing the tray of food both warily and hungrily. She felt like she hadn't eaten in weeks, but her hunger was deep and uncomfortable enough to kill any potential appetite. She was going to have to force herself to eat.
"Can you help me?" she asked Loki quietly, gesturing to the food tray, and he quickly stood and did as she asked. He helped her sit up straighter in the bed, then carefully placed the tray in her lap before returning to his seat.
Luckily, the meal was light - just some soup, bread, and a little bowl of assorted fruits. There were two cups on the tray as well, one with water and one with juice, and she eyed it all unenthusiastically before decided to start with the bread first.
"Who knows?" she asked, breaking off a small piece of the bread with her fingers and meeting Loki's gaze. "The full story, I mean."
"My mother, my father. Thor, of course. I don't believe anyone else knows beyond Sif and the Warriors Three. And they wouldn't have known, had Thor not enlisted their help to try to drag me away from your bedside."
She chewed on the bread slowly, her jaw already weak from the effort. Being this weak was ridiculous. "I'm glad they did. I'm grateful for all you've done for me, but I would never want you to waste away or suffer on my account."
Loki glared at her a little. "The healers weren't doing enough. I had no choice."
She watched as he then quickly dropped his eyes, blinking a few times, returning to staring at his again-fidgeting hands. Her stomach grumbling stole her attention - now that she was eating, she was suddenly starving.
"I can turn them away, if you want," Loki muttered, breaking the silence. "My brother and Fandral."
Aemilia got to work on the soup, considering his offer silently. She was still trying to wrap her head around what had happened, and there was something acutely embarrassing about the way Thor had burst in at the worst of times. Just the thought of him, Frigga, Odin (especially Odin), Sif and the warriors discovering the truth as she had lay dying in a healing room made her want to curl into a ball and not let herself be seen for days. She assumed that it was a knee-jerk reaction to the innate shame that her mother had instilled into her since the day that she was born, how she acted as if such pregnancies were the very height of all that was undesireable and shameful.
Her mother, she groaned inwardly. If she only knew...
"Aemilia."
She snapped her eyes up to his and swallowed a mouthful of the soup. "I... no, it's all right."
At least it wasn't the All-Father wishing to see her. She had barely spoken to him or even seen him once since moving into the palace, and when compared to him, she would be positively comfortable and at ease with Thor and Fandral.
"Loki," she asked quietly, "I know that some servants must have seen or heard what happened. Can they be trusted to keep silent?"
Loki's jaw tightened before he replied, "The last servant who let slip something that I wished him not to is currently living in the form of a rat and serving the palace by feasting on the excrement of prisoners in the dungeon. I don't believe you have great cause to worry."
Aemilia was too exhausted and too compromised to be disturbed by what he'd just admitted to. And anyway, it wasn't the worst thing he'd done. "All right."
Just then, the door clicked open again, and this time unmistakably thunderous footsteps sounded through the air. She could almost feel Loki stiffen as Thor came into view, Fandral trailing behind him.
"I heard you've awakened at last," Thor said, for once speaking at a reasonably quiet tone that was not at all boisterous or gregarious. Aemilia gave him the closest thing to a smile that she could muster, surprised when he immediately strolled up to the bed and leaned down to give her a hug. "I'm glad to see it, my lady, very glad to see it. I am sorry."
Even more shockingly, his hug was gentle and not bone-crushing. She raised one weak arm to return the embrace and replied muffled against his shoulder, "Thank you, your grace."
"Please," he said as he pulled away, "no more of the formalities. I come to you as a friend, Aemilia, not a Prince."
"As do I," Fandral said, standing at Thor's side. "And as such, if you wish to kick us out so you two can have your privacy, please do immediately - I only wished to see you with my own eyes to ease my mind."
"I... appreciate your kind words and concerns, both of you," Aemilia replied quietly. Thor looked a slight bit more awkward to her than Fandral did - Thor looked at her in a way that bordered on pity, though he was visibly trying not to, while Fandral seemed more self-assured and relaxed. Perhaps it was because Fandral hadn't been the one to see her bleeding to death.
"If there is anything that either of us can do for you, anything at all, do let us know," Thor said sincerely. "And I mean it."
Aemilia nodded. "Thank you. Though I'm not sure that Loki has left much to be done."
Both men smiled, and Thor replied, "Yes, you have ever the faithful servant in my brother, I believe. Speaking of, Loki - may I have a word?"
Loki, who had barely acknowledged either man since they had arrived, glanced up at Thor and muttered, "Thor, I don't -"
"It will only take a moment," Thor replied, insistent. Loki sighed and got to his feet, sharing a brief look with Aemilia before reluctantly following Thor out of the room.
That left Aemilia and Fandral alone, and any fears of hers that they may end up in an awkward silence faded instantly when Fandral sighed and gestured to the side of her bed. "May I?"
She nodded, scooting her legs over slightly as the warrior sat on the right side of the small bed. "I admit, I am unsure of what to say to you," he said softly, meeting her gaze. "You don't strike me as the type who would particularly want pity."
She shook her head, now grazing the bowl of fruit on her lap. "No, not particularly. Especially when I barely comprehend what's happened."
He nodded. "Then in that case, just allow me to say that in the short time that I've known you, I've come to value you as a friend and a lady of great worth, and I hope that in the future - should you face an unexpected, difficult predicament - you will know that you can come to me with anything. My advice tends to not be the best in the realm, generally speaking, but I am a good listener, and what you tell me will never reach other ears if you don't will it."
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
He covered one of her hands with his and smiled. "Okay. Also... I feel that it behooves me to tell you that when the Queen finally convinced Loki to leave your side to eat and drink, he had exhausted himself to the point of his magic being completely depleted."
Aemilia's eyes widened. "Is... is that bad? Is he hurt now? Is -"
"No, no, no," Fandral quickly assured her. "No, he will be fine. I only wished to tell you because I know that he will not. He was on the verge of losing consciousness when the Queen made him go. I had to nearly carry him to his chambers."
Tears prickled at her eyes, and she fought them with all of her might, because once she started, she knew she wouldn't stop. "Thank you for telling me."
He nodded, giving her hand a squeeze. "He's heavier than he looks, you know. Nearly dislocated my shoulder with how heavily he was leaning on it."
A huff escaped her lips, the closest to a laugh that she could manage.
Meanwhile, just outside the room, Loki was fidgeting and fighting to keep an unpleasant swell of guilt from making him completely lose it.
Thor's hand was on his shoulder, and his words were a blur of concern and brotherly affection that made Loki think of nothing but how he'd arranged to have the best day of Thor's life utterly ruined. He was not fond of guilt, and his brain was not functioning highly enough to be able to bury the unwanted feelings under his justifications. Especially when Thor was blathering on and on about how he wanted to help he and Aemilia in any way that he could, and that he knew he hadn't been the most attentive brother as of late.
Any other time, Loki would have eaten it up and also been able to ignore the guilt. Right now, he could only scowl at Thor's shoulder and just barely keep the guilt from consuming him.
"Do you happen to know when she will be fully recovered?"
Loki blinked at Thor and replied, "I do not know. Why?"
"I only hope that she is back to feeling normal by the day of my coronation."
Loki almost sighed audibly in relief. He clung to that one potentially self-centered statement with everything he had and smushed the guilt down into an unknown mental abyss. "Can you truly think of nothing else, Thor? Even now? Even now you think only of yourself and your damn coronation?"
Thor's eyebrows furrowed and he quickly argued, "No, brother, of course not - I only meant that -"
"Never mind," Loki muttered, tossing Thor's hand away. "It matters not. Thank you for your help over the last three days. It's been greatly appreciated."
He spoke those words through gritted teeth, and Thor didn't stop him when he turned and walked briskly back into Aemilia's room. On some level, he knew he was being irrational, but he didn't care. Irrational and angry was better than honest and guilty. And anyway, a few days of Thor not being a complete idiot didn't mean he was any closer to being mature enough to be a competent King, which meant he had nothing to feel guilty about.
He barely blinked when he walked in and saw Fandral perched on Aemilia's bed, holding her hand. Any other time he would have had quite the reaction to such a sight, but he was too exhausted and too overloaded with unwanted emotion to do anything but glare long enough at Fandral to make him remove himself from the bed. Loki sunk back into the chair at Aemilia's other side and went back to fidgeting with his hands until his brother and the warrior left.
When they did, he still didn't look up. When he eventually did glance at Aemilia, he found her fast asleep.
The last thing he remembered before falling asleep himself at a highly uncomfortable angle was staring at Aemilia's steadily rising and falling chest, making sure she didn't stop breathing, and mentally berating himself for letting another tear slip from his eye.
Aemilia's sleep was fitful. Now that she had some strength back and she wasn't in a near-coma, rather than sleep like the dead, she drifted back and forth between frighteningly dark dreams and half-consciousness that was just as disturbing. She dreamed of blood, of listening to her own screams and Loki's panicked cries, and the distinct, terrifying feeling of being frozen to death from the inside out.
She awoke to Loki shaking her slightly, leaning over her and grasping her shoulders, begging her to wake up.
"You're safe, you're alive, darling, you're all right. Look at me - you're all right."
Her eyes locked on to the fierce, shimmering green eyes above her, and as she pulled her mind fully out of the half-conscious haze, she nodded quickly. She didn't trust herself to speak; the noise threatening to escape her throat was somewhere in between a scream and a sobbing gasp.
"That's better, darling," Loki's voice soothed as he ran his fingers comfortingly through her hair. "Just breathe. It's over."
But it wasn't over, she knew. It was only the beginning. Just as she'd had to adjust to the idea of being pregnant, now she had to adjust to the shock of a dead child and the changes that would bring between herself and Loki.
She hadn't wanted to get pregnant. It had been spectacularly bad timing to get pregnant when she had. There was nothing wise or smart about any of it, and yet it had happened, and they had agreed to keep the child and face the consequences.
Now the child was gone, vanished even more quickly than it had appeared. And she would forever think of the child as an "it", never even learning the gender.
A lifetime of potential, gone. Would the child have been a girl, with a mane of jet black hair, soft green and brown eyes and a voice like deadly silk, or a boy with reddish-brown curls and sparkling emerald eyes with a penchant for mischief? Would they have had a little Prince or a little Princess? A girl as beautiful as she was clever, a boy as charming as he was talented?
Would they have sang, or been a warrior, or had an early, natural knack for magic to rival their father?
What would their name have been?
"Aemilia... Aemilia? Are you okay?"
She shook her head, staring up at the ceiling and squeezing her eyes shut to fight the tidal wave of tears pressing for release. She sucked in a deep breath and all she could smell was the healing rooms, the herbs that permeated the air and cleaning solution used on the floors, and she was suddenly on the verge of a panic attack as she nearly hyperventilated.
"I want... I want my room," she managed to choke out, avoiding Loki's concerned and slightly crazed look. "I don't want to stay here any longer. The smell is... it just..."
Loki nodded quickly and took her hands in his. "Okay. All right. I'll have the healers move you. Do... would you like to come back to my room instead?"
She shook her head. "Not yet, Loki. Not after -"
"Don't say another word," he assured her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll take care of it, darling."
"Stay with me," she half-whispered, opening her eyes and meeting his own. "I need you to stay with me."
"Of course," he whispered back. "You have my word."
She released another deep breath, slowly calming down, and when she felt Loki press a small kiss to her forehead, she had to fight the tears again. She knew they'd come eventually, that she was only delaying the inevitable breakdown, but she didn't want it to happen there. In fact, the sooner she got out of there, the better.
"I will go find the healer on duty and tell them that I'm taking you back to your room," Loki murmured before giving her a last soft kiss and straightening up. "Will you be all right here alone?"
She nodded, hoping that she looked confident enough in her answer to reassure him. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Loki."
He didn't look very convinced, but he left a moment later anyway. She clutched the thin white sheet draped over her and suddenly realized that her other hand had been clutching at her belly the entire time.
She hadn't yet shed a tear. It didn't escape Loki's notice. But he knew she would, eventually. And he was frightened of that moment.
Getting the healers to agree to let her return to her room was neither easy nor difficult. They protested but Loki gave them little choice but to release her, and they met in the middle by agreeing to setting up a makeshift clinic in the vacated room next to Aemilia's. They would come and check on her and care for her while she rested in her own room, free from the smell and memories of the healing rooms, and both sides were satisfied with the compromise.
The transfer was uneventful, and Aemilia ate again once she was comfortable in her own bed. She urged Loki to eat as well and he did, sitting in a chair nearby and fighting the exhaustion creeping through his bones. Eating and napping some had returned a bit of strength to him but his magic was still elusive, and he knew it wouldn't return fully until he'd had a full nights sleep and perhaps several more proper meals. It didn't anger him as it normally would have, because he didn't regret any of his actions that had left him in this state.
A faint wincing sound caught his attention after he was finished eating. He looked up to find Aemilia done as well, and she held her belly as she closed her eyes.
"Do you need something, darling?"
"I think I need another pain potion," Aemilia said quietly.
Loki nodded and stood, walking to a table that held a bag full of provisions from the healers. They'd warned that she'd suffer cramping for up to another week, perhaps even longer - they weren't sure because her case was so odd.
He grabbed a glass vial from the bag and quickly brought it to Aemilia, taking her empty tray from her as she downed the liquid in one swallow. He then took the vial and tossed it on too of the tray and turned back to her, a frown on his lips as he watched her stare vacantly towards the foot of her bed.
"Can I do anything else for you?" he asked quietly. She blinked and shook her head, even as her hand grabbed his before he could turn away. She gave a weak tug and he gently slipped into the bed beside her, resting against the wooden headboard and gathering her to rest in his arms.
She was silent for an unknown number of moments, moments they spent staring and breathing and barely moving.
When she finally spoke, he felt his heart tear apart just a little bit more.
"It must have been something I did. Nothing else makes sense."
He closed his eyes. "Aemilia..."
"It must have been, Loki. I... I don't know if I should have eaten more, or maybe it was the wine I drank before I knew that I was pregnant. But this doesn't just... happen, not to us, not to Asgardians, unless they do something to cause it, something to -"
"Aemilia," he said more firmly, taking his hand from her back and placing it in her hair to gently pry her away so that he could look in her eyes. "Stop. You've done nothing wrong. You know that."
She shook her head, staring down at his chest, and he watched her eyes fill up with tears. He knew she wouldn't be able to hold them in this time.
"I'm sorry, Loki," she half-gasped, half-sobbed, and her eyes squeezed shut as two enormous tears slid down her face. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
And that was when the dull tearing within him became a sharp shatter. Loki's face paled as he watched her fall apart, his eyes widening fractionally and lips parting as the woman in his arms finally allowed the dam, and herself, to break. He pulled her close, holding her tightly as she cried into his shoulder and clutched at his tunic almost harsh enough to tear right through the thin fabric. She kept sobbing out apologies and he kept shushing her, telling her to stop, that she did nothing wrong, holding her tighter and tighter, and he barely realized that he was crying into her hair.
The heaving sobs wracked through her chest, and his hand running up and down her back did nothing to soothe her. His words weren't stopping the nearly incoherent strings of words leaving her lips, and it left him feeling utterly useless once again.
He closed his eyes and buried his face in her hair, holding a handful of her hair in a clenched fist at the back of her neck. He would have done anything, absolutely anything, if it would have brought her comfort and eased her pain.
But all he could do was hold her, and wait for the wave of grief and pain that she had spent all day holding in to subside. Eventually she stopped apologizing, stopped muttering indecipherable noises, and all that remained were her tears and the sobs that hadn't waned or calmed at all. She'd long since soaked through his shirt, and he was a little shocked when he realized he'd all but saturated the chunk of her hair that his face had been buried in with his own tears.
His fist in her hair relaxed, allowing his fingers to run soothingly through it as he moved his lips to her ear, trying once more to utter words of comfort.
It was such an odd, unnatural thing for him to do, but even that and his natural discomfort couldn't stop him. His sheer need to hold her close and comfort her was as dire as his need to breathe, as strong as his pain, as unexpected and terrible as his grief for the child he'd never have.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stop it," Loki said shakily into her ear. "I tried, I promise you, I tried."
Another wrack of a sob and the tightening of her fingers on his shirt was his only reply.
"I'm sorry that I've done this to you," he breathed, half-unaware of what he was saying at this point. It was all rushing out before he could think about it to stop it. "I'm sorry that I've hurt you. I've done nothing but hurt you since I met you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
She shook her head against his shoulder, her way of protesting what he was saying, but he held her head closer and continued his harsh whispers. "Don't ever let me hear you blame yourself again. Never again, do you hear me?"
She didn't nod, didn't acknowledge his words other than by sniffing heavily and taking a gasping breath. "You've been perfect. You should have been fine. You've not done a single thing wrong. I promise you, Aemilia. I..."
His brain suddenly kicked in and reeled back, just in time before he said something that wanted to escape his lips with such ferocity that it almost made his head spin. The words themselves didn't shock him, but his sudden overwhelming drive to speak them did.
He'd realized it at some point during the last few days. It may have been when Thor had said as much, or when he found himself wishing it was he who had been courting death rather than Aemilia. Either way, regardless of when or how, it was now an inescapable truth, and one that he couldn't trace the origins of.
He loved her. He loved her like he'd never loved another. It was a burning, consuming fire that made his chest ache and his brain spin and his tongue utter stupid things. It was an unspoken truth that had been his unacknowledged companion for so long that he had no idea when it had come to be.
Maybe he'd loved her from the very beginning. Maybe he'd loved her since the moment he first taught her to use magic and saw the childlike glee in her eyes at the first green glow of her hand. Maybe he'd loved her since the night she'd come to him, newly free and disgraced and banished, asking him to not merely care for her, but to take care of her.
Maybe he'd loved her since the first time he'd heard her sing. How could he know? He'd never know.
He wanted to say the words over and over, shout them from the rooftops if it helped her believe him, whisper them sweetly in her ear until she fell asleep - I love you, I love you, I love you - and until she said the words back.
But he didn't.
He didn't want the first time he ever said those words to her to be marred by pain and grief, overshadowed by the loss they'd shared and the dark cloud that hung over them tonight. He wanted her to believe them, to believe the gravity of him actually saying those words, not brushing them off as a perhaps half-sincere gesture of comfort.
So he kept the words inside. And when her tears finally, finally ebbed, he eased her down to her pillow and gently followed, drawing her to his chest and holding her close as her breaths slowly became less ragged and more even.
They fell asleep like that, arms entwined around the other and her breaths light on his chest as his chin rested on top of her head. They slept longer than either of them had ever slept at one time before, exhaustion bringing a blessedly dreamless sleep to them both.
While the night brought sleep for the Prince and his lover, The Queen was wide awake and angrier than she had been in centuries.
Frigga stood in the midst of Odin's chambers, standing between the King and the realm's most distinguished, legendary healer, Eir. The goddess was older than she, gray and wrinkled and wise, but as events had proven, tragically mistaken about a rather vital piece of information.
"You told us this would never happen," Frigga said quietly. "That this was impossible. That a man of his... true origin could not conceive with an Aesir."
Only three people in all of Asgard knew of Loki's true parentage, and they were all standing in that room. When Odin had first brought the tiny baby Loki to Asgard following the last Great War, Frigga had entrusted Eir with the truth, for the sake of Loki's health and well-being. According to the research Eir had conducted at that time, she had concluded that Jotuns and Asgardians were biologically incompatible, and unable to conceive a child together. Therefore, when he came of age, no intervention would be needed to prevent him from discovering his heritage by fathering a half-Jotun child.
Frigga had trusted Eir. She had also trusted Odin that keeping the truth from Loki was the wise thing to do. She now realized that she had been a fool on both counts.
"That is what my research told me, my Queen," Eir replied tersely. "Never has this happened before in any recorded history. Jotuns have bred with Midgardians, Light Elves, Dark Elves, but never one of the Aesir. It was said to be impossible."
"And a girl almost died due to this fallacy!" Frigga shot back. "What did you tell Loki when he asked why her blood ran cold from her body?"
Eir pursed her thin lips and answered, "I told him that her body had gone into shock and that her temperature dropped so low as to cool her blood."
Frigga grimaced at the healer's words. More lies, heaped on her son like invisible poison, building and building without him even knowing it.
"Something will have to be done," Eir said calmly. "If he is to remain ignorant of the truth, then precautions must be taken to ensure that he does not father another child."
"What are you suggesting?" Frigga asked incredulously. "That I cast an infertility spell on him each day without his knowledge? Slip a potion into his drinks at breakfast?"
"If I may speak bluntly, my Queen," Eir replied evenly, "you and the King both chose to withhold the truth from Prince Loki. You were both aware of the inevitable consequences. This is merely one that was not expected. If you wish to reveal the truth to him now, then please do so. If you do not, then I suggest precautions are taken to ensure that no further lives are lost due to this deception."
The words were cutting. Cutting, but reeking of truth.
"Very well," Odin finally spoke. "Thank you for your counsel, Lady Eir."
Eir bowed her head. "My King, my Queen."
A silent moment later, the King and Queen were alone. Frigga's voice was steady when she spoke, but her heart was unbearably heavy. "We must tell him the truth."
"The timing is not right," Odin said quietly, not meeting her eyes, staring at the firelight dancing across the golden chamber walls. "Not yet."
"It has been a thousand years," Frigga replied. "A thousand years of lies that have never felt right to me. And now those lies have cost the life of an innocent child. Our first grandchild, Odin. A grandson."
Odin's eyes suddenly met hers. "How can you know?"
Frigga drew a breath and spoke softly. "The night Aemilia began to bleed, I dreamed of a boy no bigger than a toddler. He had her hair and Loki's eyes. His true eyes, but the crimson didn't touch the whites of them. He was pale, and he appeared to be as we are, as we look, aside from his eyes. He was walking through the palace gardens, holding his mother'a hand. Then Loki appeared, taking his other hand. When they touched, a deep blue slowly spread through their fingers, and it didn't stop until the color had covered them both."
Odin looked away. Frigga found herself not caring in the least if he was uncomfortable by her vision.
"The boy was beautiful, Odin. They all were. They were so incredibly happy."
"The boy was not meant to be," Odin said simply. "I am sorry, Frigga. We must act in regard to our realities, not our dreams."
Frigga tightened her jaw. "It was my dream. And my dreams are a gift of my people, not meaningless visions to be ignored and discarded."
Odin shook his head. "Jotun children are not meant to thrive in the wombs of the Aesir, as we have learned from this tragedy. What would the truth have done to change this?"
"Perhaps something could have been done," Frigga replied. "A spell. Something to regulate her temperature and keep the child in her womb long enough to be viable outside of it."
"There is no way to know this, Frigga."
"If Loki and Aemilia had simply known what they were facing, that they are not the same race -"
"Enough," Odin suddenly bellowed, silencing his Queen. "What's done is done. The day will come when Loki must learn the truth and prepare to take his rightful throne, but it is not this day. These tragic events change nothing."
The finality of the King's tone was all Frigga needed to hear. But, never one to be a Queen that cowered at the word of her King, she took a deep breath and said quietly, "There is blood on our hands, Odin, whether you decide to acknowledge it or ignore it as you have always ignored the consequences of this choice. Of our choice. This has gone too far. Much too far."
She walked to the huge chamber doors, deciding to sleep in her own private rooms tonight. Before she opened them, she stopped, turned to face her husband and King, and said calmly, "Keep deceiving him as you will. Cling to the web of lies that I am ashamed to have helped you spin. But I cannot promise that I will not tell him the truth myself. You say these events changed nothing," she opened the door and put one slippered foot into the hallway, "but they have changed everything."
Odin watched her leave, and only when the door was closed and she was gone did the slightest flicker of emotion cross his weathered face. It disappeared just as quickly.
A/N: I think i broke my own feels with this one. I have the sads now. :( If anyone wants to really be miserable, look up "Gone Too Soon" by Daughtry and give it a play during or after reading this. *sighs* This one just hit me particularly hard because, honestly, with most of this story, I'm just making crap up and I have no idea what I'm actually writing about lol, like this super passionate affair-y stuff, major jealousy/identity issues, I don't actually relate to any of it. I think it's all fascinating and I love writing it, but rarely do I get to write about something I've experienced. But with the last chapter and this one, gah, it was like a freight train of feels and a free therapy session. I also realized that I should have put a trigger warning on the last chapter, so I hope it, and this one, didn't trigger any memories for anyone in an unwanted way.
On a lighter note, the review count stands currently at 39 for the last chapter - OMG *flails* And a bunch of them were ALL CAPS and full of Odin-esque HUARGHHHH yelling and can I just say that I LOVE ALL OF YOU AND YOUR SUPER EMOTIONAL RESPONSES AND I'M SORRY/NOT SORRY FOR BREAKING ALL YOUR FEELS. NO SERIOUSLY. I LOVE EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU. ESPECIALLY THE ONES THAT YELLED AND CURSED AT ME. *puts inside voice back on* But yeah. I have such amazing readers and I just keep throwing misery and angst at you in return and I feel evil, but at the same time, the story's called Ruin and any in-character Loki story is gonna be miserable most of the time, so you all knew what you were getting into, right? I hope? :P Anyway... now that I've thanked and gushed over you guys, I must do the same for midnightwings96, who continues to be indispensable and amazing and helpful and all-around fricking awesome, as you all know by now, but I can't say it enough (obviously). Now that I've blathered on and on and you've all zoned out now, I'm gonna go ahead and go now and sit here with my feels... I'd ask for reviews to make me feel better, but seeing as I probably still deserve to be HUARGGHHHH-ed at, I'll just... quietly... back away. *scurries off*