A/N 1: and here we have another collaboration with midnightwings96 :D the sexytimes are all her, as with the last few chapters, and you're all gonna love it :D also, erm, just to be on the safe side, I'm gonna stick nice little trigger warning up here for mild self-harm-ish type stuff towards the end of the chapter. It's not really major but better safe than sorry. Anyway, read on, and second note's at the bottom :D
He'd lived over a thousand years. Still a youth by his people's standards, yet an ancient by those of other worlds. In those years, he had seen many things - battle, struggle, death, life, beginnings and inevitable ends - but one thing that he was unfamiliar with was change.
Asgardian life was a constant, rarely-changing thing. Lives that spanned millennia remained largely stagnant, lacking the urgency and ever-shifting nature of mortal ones. His life had been one of study, of quiet determination to be the equal of a man who would always be loved more than he. He had accepted his lot long ago, and had learned not to waste his time pursuing what could never be his.
It had never been easy, but it was familiar. It became his own personal standard of normal. Never-changing, stagnant, consistent. A thousand years of being told to know his place and learning how to make the most of that place.
One day, he would look back and think how ironic it was that it only took one day to change everything, and unravel every last thread that held him together.
Loki heard her saying his name, heard her heartfelt, almost frantic assurances that he hadn't hurt her, but he was far from fully present, and whether he did or did not hurt her meant little. He felt her hands on his shoulders and then on his face, and he batted her away, wishing she would simply leave him to his misery.
She begged to know what was wrong. How could he tell her when it was ripping him apart from the inside out to just think of it?
Ignoring her pleas, he opened his sore eyes and looked down at his left hand as it hung in his lap. The horror of that moment, where he'd watched his perfect pale skin turn icy blue, would never leave him. It would be imprinted on his consciousness forever. Going and confronting Odin and hearing the words spoken aloud was merely a confirmation of what he'd known as soon as that Frost Giant had touched him. As much as he would have liked to deny it, even a master of lies could not deny the truth of that moment.
He clenched his hand into a fist and lowered his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The sickest part of it all was how horrifically right it felt when the change took place. In the weapons vault, when he'd held the Casket long enough to feel his entire body take on its cursedly natural form, though his mind had recoiled with the deepest disgust, his body had inexplicably felt better and stronger than it ever had before, as if he were truly breathing for the first time.
It was perverse and unspeakable, all of it. His life, his skin, his eyes, his very name was a lie, one that he was sure was infinitely more damaging than any lie he'd ever spun himself.
And what was left of him now, now that he knew this truth? His brother banished, his father - not father - slumbering uselessly, his mother faithful at the sleeping King's side, and Loki himself sitting in his ruined bedroom one dark thought away from completely coming apart.
What was left, evidently, was the woman he loved.
He opened his eyes and gazed at her, almost unable to look her in the eye as she stared at him pleadingly. He hadn't even recognized her when she'd first appeared, leading him to that terrifying moment when he'd suddenly snapped out of his daze and realized that he was on the verge of choking her.
It was all very fitting, of course. Why wouldn't a monster try to choke the life out of the woman who was foolish enough to care for him?
She didn't even know, he mused as she continued to kneel in front of him. She had no idea that she was grasping the hand of an abomination, begging a revolting creature to just tell her what was wrong. She didn't have the slightest clue that she'd given her innocence to a monster and been his companion ever since. What would she say if she knew that she'd once carried the child of a creature she'd been taught to fear and loathe since birth?
And then it hit him, something that took his rapidly growing self-hatred and multiplied it to crippling heights. The child they'd conceived and lost in a miscarriage that was so incredibly rare among the Aesir and proved so nearly deadly to Aemilia - Loki and his repulsive biology had surely been the cause of it. The lie that Odin had told him had cost the life of his first and perhaps only child, and almost killed the woman he loved.
His tears sprang anew, and he buried his face in his arms as Aemilia continued to watch helplessly. He knew that she would run away as soon as she discovered the truth. It's what he would do, had he been in her position. It was only understandable. What had he ever done, other than hurt her? And this, the truth of why their child had died, would surely be the last straw.
He'd never forgive himself, so he'd never have the audacity to ask for such a thing from her.
"Loki, please... I promise you, whatever it is, you can tell me. Please, please, just tell me."
It killed him to do it, but he knew he could not stall any longer. The sooner he told her - showed her - the sooner she would leave and run away in disgust, and he'd rather get it over with now.
He lifted his head, meeting her gaze and not wiping the tears that were on his cheeks as he took a shaky breath. When he spoke, his voice was harder and harsher than he expected it to be, taking himself by surprise. "You want to know what is wrong?"
She nodded quickly. He noted tears in her own eyes, and he found it fascinating that she'd cry simply because he was crying. "Of course I do."
He stared at her blankly for a bit, willing himself to move and do what he knew he must. Before he could, she spoke again.
"... Is it Thor? What happened today, Loki?"
He laughed hollowly. "Thor was banished to Midgard. He nearly started a war between us and Jotunheim today. We would have all been dead had Father not shown up when he did."
The word Father felt suddenly bitter on his tongue, but to call Odin anything else felt even more wrong. Loki gritted his teeth as Aemilia processed what he told her.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I know it cannot be easy to lose your brother, but... I don't think this," she gestured to him and his room, "is the result of his banishment."
"It is not," Loki agreed, his tone flat and dead.
"Tell me," she urged.
He met her gaze, trying to figure how he was going to do this. Speaking the words only would be insufficient - she'd likely not believe him or think him mad. He had to show her, but he did not know how to drop his inherently-cast illusion and appear in his natural form - nor did he have the slightest desire to learn how do so - and he could not take Aemilia to the highly guarded weapons vault.
"I cannot tell you," he said. "I can only show you."
She blinked a few times, then replied, "Then show me."
He dropped his knees and let his legs straighten out before him, and he somewhat fixed his slumped posture as he sat up straighter against the wall. She straightened a bit as well, the skirt of her emerald gown pooling on the floor as she sat back on her heels. He gave himself a moment to look her over, admiring her beauty and loyalty that would be ripped away from him in a matter of moments.
He deserved no less, a nagging, growing voice from within spoke to him.
"Loki?"
He realized he'd been drifting off again. He pressed his lips together and looked down at his hands before bringing them together and then pulling them apart. A flash of green, and he Casket of Ancient Winters was in his hands.
"What's that?" Aemilia asked, even as his fingers began turning icy blue. He didn't dare look into her eyes. Instead, he stared stonily down at his hands, allowing the growing self-hatred to take hold as he grew ever more disgusted with the truth of what he was.
Cold, bizarrely pleasant energy washed over him as the color spread under his clothes and crept up to his neck. He heard Aemilia gasp softly as his face succumbed to the change, and he squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could, for two reasons. He couldn't bear to look at her as she saw the truth for herself, and he didn't want her to see the terror of his blood-red eyes.
"Loki, what... I don't understand," she said quietly. He clenched his fists around the handles of the Casket.
"I am not Odin's son," he said, eyes still closed, head hanging slightly. "This is what I am. A stolen trophy from the enemy. I am Laufey's son."
He heard only silence. He didn't so much as hear her breathe. An agonizing moment passed where he refused to open his eyes and simply waited for her to scream, wail in horror, or curse him before running away as quickly as she could.
Instead, he recoiled in shock and allowed his eyes to snap open when he felt her soft, warm fingers on his wintery cheek. "Don't! I'll burn you!"
She gasped and her eyes widened when her green and brown, perfectly Aesir eyes met his fully red Jotun ones. Her fingertips fell from his face and one of her hands covered her mouth as she inched back, and he knew this was it. She was disgusted, though not possibly as much as he himself was, and this was the end of their tempestuous union.
"Now you see me," he spat out, clutching the Casket and sneering at her for no reason before rising to his feet and sweeping past her. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, or why he was still holding the relic, but he simply wanted - needed - to get away from her.
He vanished the Casket and winced as the color began to slowly fade from his fingertips. Why did it physically hurt to lose this monstrous form and return to his desired one?
He was jarred from his thoughts when he felt hands grab his and spin him around. He opened his mouth to bark at Aemilia to go away, but her two fingers at his blue lips silenced him. He marveled at the fact that she did not seem to burn from the contact.
"Loki," she breathed quietly, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears as her fingers left his lips and began to trace over his chin, then his jaw, then his cheek. He did not know what his face looked like in this form, but when she traced deliberate patterns over what felt like raised lines in his skin, a picture began to come together in his head, and he shivered with disgust at the thought and contrasting pleasure at the sensitivity of those ridges to her touch.
He could only stare at her and wonder how she could touch him like this rather than scream and run. Her fingers shook slightly, but she seemed to hold little to no fear.
Color was draining from his chest and arms as she ran her fingertips over the pattern of lines along his forehead. Then she grasped his face in her hands, unperturbed by the cold, and she leaned up on the tips of her toes as she whispered, "Loki, you're beautiful."
He wanted to laugh in her face. Shove her away, point out the many, many reasons why she was an idiot to say such a thing. He wanted to, but he didn't. All he could do was hold his icy breath as she closed her eyes and kissed him.
The last of the blue left his face in the midst of the kiss. His arms hung at his sides and he could barely bring himself to return the kiss, let alone understand it, but she was insistent and bewildering in her determination to show her affection.
He pulled away when he could take no more. "How could you say such a thing?" he asked, holding her at arms' length. "How? I'm a monster, a -"
"You are no monster," she interrupted, clutching his shoulders. "You are still you, Loki, don't you see? This changes nothing of who you truly are."
He scoffed. "You speak nonsense. Clearly you do not understand in the least or you are too blinded by -"
"I do not understand?" she interrupted again, eyebrow raised. "Do I not understand exactly what it is like to discover that you are not what you thought you were? How it feels to know that your parents have lied to you every day of your life?"
He took her hands and yanked them from his shoulders. "Discovering that you are an illegitimate half-Vanir is not in the least comparable to this. Do not even attempt to say that it is."
"I know that it is different," she said, grasping his forearms and then grasping them again when he shook her hands off. "But I understand the betrayal and the shock. I do. What you must understand is that you are still you, regardless of the manner of your birth."
He laughed hollowly, perhaps a little madly. "Oh, indeed. In fact, this has only served to confirm everything I've ever suspected. It all makes sense now, does it not? Why I am different, why I have never belonged as Thor does. Why I am not beloved of the people. Why I am overlooked, a distant second best in all but an art that is valued by few. It is because I do not belong, because I am different."
"But not because of your blood!" she argued stubbornly. "You are different, and that is why I love you."
He froze as the weight of her words hung in the air between them. Once again, he found himself able to only stare at her, eyes wide and lips parted as she placed both hands on his face and forced him to look her in the eyes.
"I love you," she repeated, enunciating each word to convey the sincerity of them. "And while this is... shocking, and confusing, and frightening... this could never make me love you less."
"But..." he faltered for a moment, his eyes widening and taking on a young, innocent, confused look as he searched for words. "Don't you understand what this means? What I am? What I've done to you? What I've done to..."
The realization that dawned on her face told him that she hadn't understood until then. She paled a little bit, and her hands dropped slightly from his face as her mind worked.
"It was my fault," he half-whispered. "It all makes sense - why your blood ran cold, why the child could not live. Why you nearly died. It was my fault."
She blinked rapidly and shook her head, tightening her grip on his face. "No. No, it wasn't. How could you have known? No, it was not your fault. If blame should be placed on anyone, place it on those who knew the truth and chose to lie to you."
He sighed and again tried to pry her hands away. "Aemilia please, do not do this. Don't excuse me, don't pretend that any of this is all right."
"I know it's not all right," she said quietly. "I know that. But I do not, and cannot, blame you for what happened. I care not who birthed you, what realm you hail from, or what color your skin is under the illusions. I care only for you. You, Loki. I love you."
He shook his head, closing his eyes and allowing himself to lean into her touch. "You should not."
"I tend to do what I shouldn't," she said softly, leaning in close once again. "It's one of many things you've helped teach me."
He said nothing, closing his eyes as he expected her to kiss him again. But she didn't. Instead, she took him by his hands and led him to his bed, and he let her.
He stared at her as she gently sat him down on the edge of his bed, and he vaguely began to realize how fully and truly exhausted he was, in every sense of the term. It mattered little, however, and he felt his breath hitch as Aemilia knelt down before him and began gently removing his boots from his feet.
The fact that she hadn't run was more than astounding. Her heartfelt confession of love was beyond even his capacity for appropriate words. And now, as she discarded his boots and then gently rose from the floor, he watched her the whole way, maintaining eye contact when she leaned in and ran her fingers through his ragged hair, smoothing it away from his face.
"Do you remember when I first came here to live," she said, gently coming down to straddle his hips, still stroking her fingers through his hair, "and what I asked of you that first night? How I asked only that you not only care for me, but take care of me?"
Loki nodded, closing his eyes briefly as her nails scraped pleasantly across his scalp. "Yes."
"Let me do the same for you," she pleaded, looking earnestly into his eyes. "Please. Let me show you that I truly do mean what I say, that I love you with everything I have."
He didn't deserve her. Everything he'd done in the last day - ruined Thor's coronation, planted an idea into Thor's head that ultimately got him stripped of his powers and banished, and discovered the monster that lay beneath his skin - weighed on him like an anchor, trying to drag him down to inescapable depths. He didn't deserve her, but there she was, ready and waiting to be his lifeline, and pull him back from the abyss.
She pressed her lips to his, and he lost all will to resist. He kissed her back, hoping against logic that her warmth would be enough to thaw the ice growing within.
Her heart was broken for the man to whom it belonged. He was shattered before her, a confused mess of a man who was nothing without his own identity, his own sense of self. He was hurting at his deepest, most buried layers, cut to the core with the truth of his heritage.
She was willing to do anything if it meant saving him from the even deeper breakdown she could sense looming on the horizon.
If she had expected him to be gentle and reluctant when she leaned down to kiss him, she knew she'd been wrong when he met her lips harshly and brought his fingers to her hips to dig into them. She could feel his desperation within a matter of minutes, sighing when his teeth nipped at her lower lip and masking a wince as his fingers dug harder into her hips.
He was desperately grasping at her, lips kissing hers with a bruising force and his hands quickly traveling up to roughly grip at her hair. Aemelia was all too familiar with rough, but this was different.
He wasn't so much desperate to quench his lust, but to make sure she was truly there, accepting him. Loving him.
When he gave a particularly strong tug at her hair, she pulled her lips from his. "Loki," she said, but he continued his vigorous attack on her neck as if she hadn't spoken.
"Loki."
At her second call, he stilled with a burdened sigh.
Slowly, he pulled his face from her throat to look at her, his eyes weary. She could sense his unspoken surrender to her when his taut muscles relaxed underneath. His hands fell from her hair to gently rest on her hips as she gingerly traced his cheekbones and jaw with her fingertips. "Let me take care of you," she said softly, eyes locked onto his.
When he nodded finally, she placed a firm and gentle kiss to his lips before slowly pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. In turn, he turned her around and, with nimble fingers, he tediously unclasped her emerald gown and ever so slowly pulled the fabric away to reveal an equally green slip and creamy skin.
The ghosting touch of his lithe fingertips sliding her out of her dress sent a shiver down her spine. As he revealed more skin, his lips would follow with slow and gentle kisses.
When the dress was fully off, she turned back to face him, lids heavy and lips slightly open. The air between them was heavy and impossibly intense, both of them already breathing heavily. Their gazes were locked, a conversation of a million words occurring in just a few heat-filled glances.
Aemilia straddled Loki's hips once again, his desire prominently rubbing at her aching core. Never losing eye contact, he grasped the lace hem of her slip and pulled it over her head, the slip and slide of silk cool on her skin.
Now fully naked, Aemilia just watched as Loki took her form in. Despite the fact that this was not a new sight for Loki in the slightest, he had never looked at her with such passion and almost wide-eyed innocence before.
It was like they were making love for the first time.
As his eyes roamed, his fingers followed from her shoulders, the curve of her collarbone, the side of her full breasts and the valley between them, and down to the curve of her hips. He grasped her hips tighter, and Aemilia kissed him with everything she had. He immediately responded, arms wrapping around her torso to pull her closer. Loki and Aemilia both quietly groaned when her breasts deliciously rubbed against his bare skin.
It was not frantic.
It was not bruising.
It was just them, slowly wiping the hurt and despair from their minds and replacing it with their love for each other. If only for a little while.
Aemilia gasped into Loki's mouth when he palmed her left breast, gently teasing and pulling at her hardened peak. She ground her hips down on his arousal, earning moans from both of them at the friction. She lightly pulled at his hair, her nails scraping at his scalp. He then switched his attention to the other breast, all while exploring her mouth with his expert tongue.
Loki groaned when Aemilia pulled away, her hands flat on his abdomen. She slowly inched down his legs, all while kissing and licking the ridges and valleys of his muscles, particularly paying attention to the deep V at his hips. He clutched at the sheets in anticipation, desperately waiting for her.
She then pulled his pants down and off of him, tossing them behind her.
After taking him in for a moment, she looked up to meet his heavy green gaze. Never breaking eye contact, she lightly grasped his hardened length. His jaw clenched and dark eyebrows furrowed in response.
Slowly, she pumped him a few times before licking him from base to tip.
He clearly hadn't expected that since his hips bucked up towards her face in response, causing her to have to hold his hips down.
One more glance at his desire-ridden expression before she enveloped him completely. Loki's head flew back to the pillow while a loud, desperate moan tore from his throat.
His noises grew louder and louder fairly quickly, his control clearly shaky. Before he could release, though, she pulled away. But not to tease him. She just couldn't take it any longer. Her entire body hummed in desire and anticipation and the unbelievable love for the broken prince below her.
She cut off his groan of protest with a deep kiss, positioning him at her entrance at the same time.
Before she could sink down on him, he pulled her away and flipped them. Her legs immediately wrapped around his waist, his length rubbing at her pulsing core.
Aemilia looked up to meet Loki's shining eyes, her breath catching at the sight.
"Aemilia. My dear Aemilia..." his voice deep and rough, but never possessing such a gentle quality before. He seemed to take a deep breath before definitively saying, "I love you."
And then he sank himself deep within her, and Aemilia cried out from the onslaught of emotion and pleasure. Her heart raced at his confession, and tears suddenly sprang to her eyes. All the while, he was thrusting into her with a steady yet maddening pace, his eyes reflecting hers.
Her release was building rapidly. With each thrust of his hips, he pulled her closer and closer to oblivion, and he was clearly just as near to his end, if not more.
In between thrusts, she managed to flip them, and the deeper angle immediately shot a wave of pleasure through her. Aemilia, still on her mission to take care of him, adopted the same pace as Loki, bouncing on top of him to meet his thrusts upward.
Just as their release began building again with increased force, Loki pulled up to a sitting position to kiss her. They immediately wrapped their arms around each other, holding on for dear life.
Loki latched his lips to her throat as Aemilia quickly rose to her end. She clutched at his hair and Loki buried his face into her neck with a deep groan.
Overcome with it all, Aemilia moaned her love for him to the top of the palace, over and over. And the noises he made in return...
When Loki's thrusts became frantic, signaling his end, Aemilia pulled his face from her neck to be forehead to forehead with him. Their eyes met, both filled with tears.
"I love you, Loki. All of you."
Her words sent him hurtling over the edge with a loud groan, and she immediately followed him. Their bodies shook together as each wave hurtled through them, their passionate gaze never breaking.
It felt like ages passed where neither of them moved after, Aemilia eventually bringing Loki's head to rest on her shoulder, running soothing fingers through his then-slightly damp hair. They clung to one another amid silence broken only by the sounds of their labored breaths, and Aemilia's heart ached when she felt warm moisture fall on her neck, which his eyes were shut tightly against. He was holding her so closely, not close enough to cut off her breath but close enough to make her suspect that he was still afraid that she'd disappear if he let her go.
Drawing in a deep breath, Aemilia gently pulled him away from her, and the ache in her heart grew at the sight of his watery eyes that he made no effort to hide from her. She ran her thumbs under his eyes, wiping the rogue tears away, and then placed a soft kiss on his lips before easing off of his lap. She took his hand and pulled to tell him to follow her to lie at the top of the bed.
She couldn't help but think how innocent he looked as she lay on her back, tugging on his hand and guiding him to lay as he had many times before, draped at her side with his head nestled on her chest. That very position had been one of her first clues, early on in their relationship, that perhaps his attachment to her was running deeper than he cared to admit - he went from rolling away from her and only reaching out to play with the ends of her hair or tug her closer to have her again, to using her as a pillow, humming low in his throat with his eyes closed as she ran her fingers through his hair and held him close.
Now, the position felt even more intimate as he curled up around her, gladly nestling against her chest and winding his arm around her middle as her fingers settled in his hair. Before he got too comfortable, he reached down and grabbed the sheets to pull them up and over them almost as an afterthought. All the while, Aemilia couldn't help but silently fret over this unexpected revelation of Loki's true heritage.
It changed everything and yet nothing, at least as far as she was concerned. It was shocking and mind-bending, and if her heart hadn't broken already, it certainly shattered when he blamed himself aloud for the loss of their child. If it was true - and her instincts told her that it was - it was enough on its own to crush anyone, and inspire rage towards those responsible for concocting the lie. But it was only a part of the myriad of reasons why she knew that this revelation would change everything for Loki, if only in his own mind.
Her only hope was that he didn't let it change his identity. He was still him, regardless of how he came to exist, and she'd do anything she had to to convince him of that.
They lay in silence for some time, and Aemilia never ceased her fingers' movements in his hair, determined to see him to sleep before she closed her own eyes. She didn't speak, not wanting to say the wrong thing and break the spell of relative peace. Instead, she replayed the previous moments in her head, closing her eyes briefly as she recalled finally speaking those few, yet powerful words, to Loki, and hearing them in return from his own lips.
How long had she been waiting for that moment? How many times had she wondered idly what it would be like to hear him tell her that he loved her, even back in the days when she thought it an impossibility?
Her only regret was that the moment had been wrapped up in pain and grief rather than joy and happiness, but it had been born out of love all the same. She'd never seen him so vulnerable, so broken and breakable, and it meant even more to hear him proclaim his love in a state such as that. He hadn't said it to placate her, charm her, or as part of a plea or apology. It had been simply spoken out of truth, pure and unrestrained honesty from the mouth of a liar.
She didn't realize that she had begun crying again until Loki lifted his head from her chest and looked upon her face in concern.
"Darling?"
His voice, even speaking that single word, sounded dry and weary. She sniffed and shrugged. "I'm fine. Just... emotional, I suppose."
"I didn't want to burden you with this," he muttered, leaning over her and returning her previous gesture, wiping her tears away. "I didn't -"
"Your burden is my burden," she said without hesitation. "You've helped me carry mine, and now it's my turn to help you with yours."
He shook his head, looking away from her eyes. "I do not understand why you didn't run. Any other woman in your position..."
"I am not any other woman," she said, rising to sit up, forcing him to do the same. She took his face in her hands and said, "And I didn't run because I meant what I said. I love you. Nothing will ever change that."
He sighed, taking her wrists in his hands but not moving her hands, rather holding them to his face as he exhaled. "And I meant what I said as well."
She smiled. "I know."
They kissed, and Aemilia could feel his exhaustion in his touch. Once more, she pulled away and urged him to lie back down, and he obliged, this time turning her on her side and pulling her in tight against his body. She sighed and laid a hand over his that lay flat on her belly, closing her eyes as he nuzzled her neck and placed a kiss to it.
"Sleep, Loki," she said gently, squeezing his hand in hers. "You'll feel better after."
She knew that he may not, but the sentiment couldn't hurt. She felt him nod against her hair, and she settled against him and almost immediately felt the grip of sleep overtake her.
Behind her, Loki's eyes stayed open. He listened to her breaths even out and watched the rise and fall of her chest, occasionally moving his gaze to the ceiling, the wall, the state of destruction that his room was still in, but he never closed his eyes.
When dawn broke, he slipped out of the bed and quietly put the room back together with magic. Aemilia continued to sleep as he then set about his usual morning routine, going about it all numbly, avoiding his reflection in his mirrors, feeling a chilling amount of nothing before setting off to check in on Odin as he lay helplessly asleep.
He cast one last look at the woman in his bed, the one foolish enough to love him despite what he truly was. He loved her all the more for it, he knew, as he walked out of his chambers.
She awoke alone, and as disappointed as she was in this fact, she wasn't surprised by it.
Aemilia rose and prepared herself for the day in Loki's room, a little startled to find that it was all put back together perfectly, as if he hadn't utterly destroyed it the night before.
She threw on a dress of hers that she'd placed in his room for mornings such as these, and desperately hungry after barely eating the day before, she exited his chambers in search of food and nearly collided with Gunnvarr.
"Oh, there you are, child!" the servant said in relief, taking a calming breath. "I should have known to look here for you first."
"Sorry," Aemilia replied. "If you'd like, you can leave your duties be for the day."
"Oh, dear, I thank you, but I must serve in some capacity today regardless," Gunnvarr replied. "With so much uncertainty and rumors, the palace needs all the help it can get now."
"You mean... rumors of Thor and his banishment?" Aemilia asked, still in shock that the heir to the throne had actually been banished on the very day that he was to become King. Something about it all felt very... wrong.
"Yes, and the King! Have you not heard? The All-Father sleeps."
Every Asgardian knew what it meant to hear that Odin slept. Aemilia furrowed her brows. "He does?"
"Word spread quickly last night, from the guards to the servants," Gunnvarr replied. "The Prince called for help from the weapons vault, and the guards found the King asleep on the stairs."
Aemilia's frown deepened. Loki had mentioned none of this to her.
"Did the Prince not tell you himself?"
Aemilia glanced up at the servant and shook her head. "No. Thank you for telling me. Do as you please for the rest of the day."
Gunnvarr nodded her thanks, and Aemilia set off down the winding hallways. She knew, from her previous tours of the palace with Loki, that there was a special chamber that Odin slumbered in while under the Odinsleep, and it happened to be on the way to the Great Hall. She did not plan any sort of visit to the room, but she kept an eye out for it as she wondered exactly what had happened in the weapons vault between father and son.
A clamor ahead of the next corner she would turn stole her attention from her thoughts, and as she turned it, she faced the stretch of hallway along which the door to Odin's chamber lay. She saw a group of guardsmen lining the apparently open door, all of them in a kneeling position, and her steps slowed as she neared them. Whatever was happening, she didn't want to intrude or appear a spectator.
The absolute last thing she expected to see was Loki striding out of those open doors, Odin's legendary scepter in hand, shoulders back and head held high as if he'd just found new purpose.
Despite her shock, it made sense. The line of succession now passed to him, in Odin's sleep and Thor's banishment.
He paused when he stepped out into the halls and passed the guards, looking down at Gungnir in his hand and the ghosts of shock on his face. Before she could study him, his eyes snapped up to hers, and she realized that her heart was slamming in her chest.
He was King now. The arrogant Prince who had always insisted to her that he didn't want the throne now had it within his grasp, and despite the shock evident on his own face, she suddenly doubted if he hadn't once coveted the throne after all.
Suddenly snapping out of it, Aemilia blinked and stepped forward quickly, her gaze intent on his as she went. When she was just a foot or so away from him, she lowered her head and then knelt before him, placing her hand over heart.
Despite the strange, troubling events surrounding his ascension, Aemilia had no doubt in his abilities to lead the realm. A slight smile played on her lips as she lifted her head and looked up at him, finding a tender and slightly innocent look on his face as she spoke.
"My King."
He couldn't help the subtle smile that spread across his lips. He also couldn't help but bend down and curl his fingers gently under her chin, beckoning her to rise back to her full height.
He could think of nothing to say that would adequately reflect the storm swirling within, so he pressed his lips to hers in a breathless kiss that he knew would leave her knees weak. Some part of his mind registered that kissing her had been his first act as King, and it was almost enough to make him chuckle.
It may appear to the untrained eye that he'd orchestrated all of these events to reach this exact outcome, but he had not. In fact, this had been as much of a shock to him as it would be soon to everyone else. He'd been too distraught by the previous night's... events to realize that this was the logical next step for Asgard.
It hadn't been his intention. But, yet, the scepter was in his hands, and as his mother had told him only moments ago, Asgard was his until Odin awoke.
Oh, if he could only see Thor's face right now.
"I must meet with the Council," Loki said after the kiss ended. "I am afraid that you will see me very little today."
"I understand," she nodded. Of course she understood, the utterly perfect woman.
"Good," he kissed her cheek and gave her a smile before turning to sweep down the hall.
He walked away with his head held high, knowing full well the once in a lifetime opportunity that had just been handed to him. This was his chance to prove himself worthy, prove himself equal - if not highly superior - to his brother, and prove to Odin at last that he was good enough for this. Good enough to be loved and valued, no longer overlooked and cast aside into his brother's shadow.
It may have also been an opportunity to prove to himself that he was more than the monster he now knew that he was underneath his own illusions. But even that came a distant second to his primary ambition, which was to take his rightful place, at last, as a celebrated son of Odin, of Asgard, one who would hear only praises from the All-Father's lips when he awoke.
And perhaps, when that happened, it would ease the sting of the growing hatred that made itself known whenever he would think of the years of lies he'd endured, all of the little things that made sense now that he knew what he really was. All of those times that Odin had blatantly favored Thor, praising his smallest accomplishments while barely glancing at Loki's - understanding it all now made it no less hurtful and enraging. The precious life that those lies had cost made them unforgivable.
Those were issues that he planned to take up with Odin the very moment he awakened. For now, he had a kingdom to prove himself to, and a legacy to fulfill.
New purpose, indeed.
The palace was indeed in a state of whispers and rumors, and Aemilia spent the day rolling her eyes at some of the more ridiculous ones and frowning at the way nearly everyone spoke of Loki. Those who knew that he was now King automatically viewed him with suspicion and distrust, and she had to contain her urge to set those people straight more than once.
In the end, the naysayers wouldn't matter. Loki was King now, rightfully, and it was every citizen's duty to honor and respect him as such. She just wished that those who distrusted him so would simply keep their mouths shut.
Those were the thoughts swirling around her head after having a quick midday meal in the Great Hall, which was when she heard the sound of Sif's outraged voice coming closer as she made her way out of the Hall.
"... It is criminal! Did you see the look on his face? We must do something! It should be Thor on the throne, not -"
Aemilia turned the corner and came face to face with Sif and the Warriors Three, the former of whom dropped her voice as she saw Aemilia and muttered in conclusion, "... Loki."
Quickly, Fandral stepped forward and seemed to place himself as a buffer between the two women, before they could begin arguing. "Aemilia," he began quietly, "perhaps Loki will listen to you before he will to us - we've just come from asking him to end Thor's banishment, and -"
"And he refused," piped up Sif, rendering Fandral's buffer useless. "Refused to bring his own brother back home. Undoubtedly because he knows that if he did, he would lose the throne!"
Fandral sighed. "Sif -"
"No, Fandral," Sif said, pushing him aside and directing her attention to Aemilia. Her expression became pleading as she asked, "Will you speak to him? Surely if he will listen to anyone, it would be you."
Aemilia opened her mouth and stayed silent for a few seconds, processing what Sif was asking of her. "But... was it not Odin himself who banished Thor? Should it not be Odin who ends his banishment as well?"
Sif appeared flabbergasted. "It was done in a moment of anger! Thor behaved foolishly but he did not deserve banishment."
"I am sure that I would agree with you, but it was Odin's decision to make," Aemilia replied, "not ours. And not Loki's. When the All-Father awakens -"
"And what if he does not?" Sif asked. "Loki himself said that the Queen fears that he may never awaken. Is Thor to remain banished forever?"
"Sif, Loki has not had the throne for even a day," Aemilia replied gently. "Give him time and I am sure that if the All-Father does not awaken, he could be persuaded to bring Thor back."
Sif scoffed. "And give up the throne? No, I am sure that this is exactly what Loki wants. Something must be done, otherwise Thor may never return."
"How can you speak of him this way?" Aemilia asked, her own anger sparking now. "Has Loki ever proven himself disloyal or worked against the good of Asgard? You speak of him as if he has usurped power when he has inherited it."
Sif tightened her jaw and answered, "And how would you feel if the roles were reversed? If it was Loki banished and Thor sitting on the throne, refusing to bring him home? What would you say then?"
Aemilia opened her mouth, but no words left her lips. The truth was - and they all knew this - Thor would defy any order to bring his brother home. It would not even be a question.
Sif gave a dark smirk. "That's what I thought."
Sif then stomped past Aemilia, whose eyes rose to Fandral's and became pleading as she stepped forward and took his hand. "Fandral," she said quietly, "please - Loki needs support right now, not... not this. Not distrust and suspicion. He is under more stress than you could possibly imagine, more than I can tell you."
"It's a difficult time for all of us," he replied. "And I'm afraid that he is not making it any easier."
"Just give him a chance," Aemilia urged, giving his hand a squeeze. "Please. He won't ask for it himself, but he needs it. He needs your support."
Fandral sighed, remaining quiet for a moment before patting her cheek and replying regretfully, "It's more complicated than that, dear, and you know it."
His hand then fell along with hers, and Aemilia watched in disappointment as Fandral left to catch up with the others. Her sense of unease was growing, it seemed, with each new development, and this one was no different.
Loki's first day was nothing short of eventful. He'd earned the wrath of Sif and the Warriors Three, met with Odin's council and gave the old men on it a smooth speech that seemed to make them happy enough, considering the situation, and he also managed to visit Thor and tell him a lie of epic proportions before departing and paying Laufey a visit on Jotunheim. Despite the fact that he'd earned the suspicions and distrust of Sif, each Warrior, and Heimdall to boot, all within a manner of hours, the pieces of his plan were falling satisfactorily into place.
Thor was out of the way on Midgard, powerless and now deeply grieving for a father who was quite alive, unbeknownst to him. He hadn't taken quite as much pleasure in that lie as others, but it was necessary, and in any case, it had been highly amusing to see Thor covered in mud and at the mercy of mere mortals in their ridiculous governmental facility.
The fact that Loki couldn't pick up the obnoxious hammer was neither here nor there. He'd expected little else, though it would have been nice to have been proven wrong.
Stepping foot into Jotunheim had been another necessary displeasure, and he had just returned from the realm when he sook the refuge of his chambers for the remainder of the night. The rooms were empty, and he was grateful for the solitude.
Before he knew it, he was changed out of his formal, Kingly armor and in far more casual clothing, sitting in front of the warmth of his suddenly roaring fireplace on the golden floor. He blinked and furrowed his brows, a bit unsure as to how he'd gotten there, and why he was sitting in front of a fire.
His gaze drifted down to his hands as they stretched out slightly before him, the flames bringing warmth to his fingertips and making them tingle with the difference. He could see them, in his mind's eye, turning icy blue, and his mind flickered back to the last hour, and how he'd seen and spoken to Laufey for the first time with the knowledge that he was speaking to his biological father. He had stood on that freezing realm, knowing that he had been born and abandoned on it, and for the first time, he understood why the cold had never seemed to bother him. He understood many things he never had before, and as a result, he would take even greater pleasure in destroying the realm and every living being upon it.
Starting with the monster who had given him life and then left him to die.
Maybe he would feel better after that, he reasoned, rubbing his hands together and noting how perfectly cast his illusion was. How ironic that he'd spent years perfecting the art of illusion, never knowing that his best work was what he'd been casting on himself all these centuries without even realizing it.
Then, suddenly, he was in his washroom, again unsure of how he'd gotten there, or why. He was leaning over a small basin of warm water, staring at himself in the mirror, and his thoughts picked up where they'd left off, admiring the illusion of his appearance.
It really was impeccable. His appearance never flickered, never wavered, never slipped into a state of blue or unnatural cold. He could almost believe that it was real, and that his Jotun form was the illusion.
If only.
An odd, curious thought later, Loki's left sleeve was pushed up to his elbow, and a dagger materialized in his right hand. He didn't think twice before pressing the tip of the blade to the deceptively pale skin of his arm, and he barely winced as he dragged it down a thin, horizontal crimson line. His eyes focused with utter concentration on the light but steady stream of blood that dripped off of his arm and into the basin, finding relief in the fact that it was still red and still warm.
It was a bit hypnotizing, watching the blood flow and feeling the sting of the self-inflicted wound. He was so deep into the strange moment that when he heard a gasp from behind him, his instincts took over and he whirled around, slamming the intruder to the wall and pressing his dagger to their neck before he could fully process what he was doing.
When he found himself staring into familiar, wide green and brown eyes, reality returned to him and he dropped the dagger like a hot coal. He took his weight off of Aemilia and clutched her face in his hands. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't see you, and I just... I'm sorry."
"I'm fine," she assured him breathlessly, though the tension in her body said otherwise. "Loki, why are you bleeding?"
Oh. He had already forgotten about that particular wound, in the confusion of the previous moment. Aemilia took his left arm gently in her hands and inspected the still-bleeding cut. He frowned when he saw that some of the blood had ended up on her dress when he'd shoved her against the wall.
She eyed the cut, then the slightly blood-stained dagger that lay at their feet, and then his eyes as she asked, "Did you do this to yourself?"
Rather than answering, he ran his right hand over the cut and watched it disappear. "Don't worry yourself, Aemilia."
"Loki," she began, her face the picture of concern, but he silenced her by disengaging and walking away, back into his bedchambers. She followed him, as he knew she would, and he wished she hadn't seen that particular moment. She would undoubtedly make more of it than it was.
He shrugged off his tunic and left it on the floor for a servant to pick up, extinguishing the hearth with a wave of his hand and glancing back to Aemilia to find her watching him cautiously.
"Come to bed," he said quietly. He then turned away and focused his attention on tossing back the sheets and furs lining his bed.
But before he could climb into the bed, two small hands on his shoulders turned him gently around, and he tightened his jaw in annoyance.
"Aemilia -"
"Are you okay?"
He almost laughed in her pretty face. If there had ever been a loaded question, that was it.
"I am King of Asgard," he said, voice flat and tired-sounding even to his own ears. "Why would I not be okay?"
She didn't flinch at his sarcasm. She simply stared at him with so much concern that it would have given even Frigga envy. "Loki..."
"You cannot sleep in this dress," he pointed out, bringing his hands to her shoulders and running his fingers under the sleeves of the simple blue dress she wore.
"You should not deflect," she sighed as his hands reached around to her back to find the bindings of the dress. "I only want to help."
"And you do," he assured her, untying a piece of fabric and finding victory when the dress then became loose enough to remove. "Raise your arms."
She did, and he grabbed the skirt of the dress and bunched it in his hands before pulling the garment over her head, leaving her in a white lace-trimmed slip. The movement ruffled her hair, and he ran a hand through it to smooth it down before pulling her close for a kiss.
It would be easy to revert to what he knew best, what they used to be, at least in theory. But he knew there was no going back to that, especially after the previous night, and his chances of kissing her into a stupor strong enough to stave off her questions were slim.
The kiss was easy, simple, beautifully familiar and comforting. Even after just one day of rule, he knew that his true allies were few, and those that actually trusted him were even fewer. Where would he be without this woman, who was there to remind him of who he was to her in the midst of this chaos?
After he pulled away from the kiss to get a breath, he brushed his lips across her cheek and then brought both of them down into his bed. He didn't let go of her, so she ended up half on top of him as they settled, and he couldn't help but to kiss her again, and again.
Touching her made him feel like himself. It was similar to watching blood drip from his veins and finding relief that it wasn't blue and frosty. Feeling her warmth and the contentment and comfort that came with her touch relieved him in the same way.
Surely, if he were a monster, he wouldn't be capable of the love he felt for her. Right?
He had all but kissed the breath out of her when she pulled away, a faint giggle on her lips.
"Stop making me lose my thoughts," she protested with a smile on her face as he ran his fingers through her hair and smiled back.
"But it's so easy to do, darling," he replied, thinking back to earlier that day, when she had left him almost speechless as she kneeled to her new King.
There had been no hesitation, no distrust, no suspicion. Just acceptance and respect, and something else that he was no longer afraid to give voice to.
"I love you," he told her softly, sincerely. And oh, how he did.
"And I love you," she replied, the light in her eyes and smile on her lips giving away how much she loved hearing those words from him. "But I can love you better if you talk to me, and tell me what is truly wrong."
He sighed in resignation. His little singer never gave up. It could be equally admirable and annoying at times.
Accepting his fate, he rolled her to the side, and proceeded to tell her about his day. He left out the parts about Thor and Laufey - naturally - but he withheld details of nothing else. He admitted how unsurprised he was at the immediate suspicion and dislike he encountered from the warriors and Heimdall. He told her that he was aware of the whispers and rumors, and he told her that none of them mattered. He had a plan for Jotunheim, for achieving peace between the realms once more. She asked what that plan was.
"You'll see," he answered vaguely. "I expect that the Jotuns will strike again, as they know of a way in that we do not. When they do, we will be ready. And I will ensure that they never dare challenge us again."
She seemed to accept this answer. It was as close to the truth as he could get.
She then told him of how Sif had begged her to urge him to end Thor's banishment. He snorted at the warrior woman's attempt, but Aemilia's account of how she'd urged Sif and the others to support Loki left him feeling a bit warm. And guilty.
She trusted him so implicitly, yet he was lying to her about many, many of his actions. He deserved her as much as a common rat deserves precious jewels.
Eventually, at some point in their talks, he ended up in a familiar place. Nestled with his head on her chest, ear to her heart, it was like coming home. His entire existence and purpose may be tied up into an intricately woven web of lies, but there was only truth in her embrace.
"Aemilia," he murmured against her skin, somewhat sleepily, as her fingers ran their soothing path through his hair.
"Hmm," she hummed in response. He knew that if he looked up, he'd find her eyes closed, close to slumber that he knew would elude himself tonight once again.
"Sing for me."
He didn't have to specify what song, because he knew that she knew, and he knew that she would oblige.
The first lines of the lullaby reached him as deeply as they had the first time she had sung them to him, maybe even more so now.
Silence all your lonely cries
Sleep until your tears are dry
Darling, you'll find peace in time
As I sing this lullaby
Would he find peace in time? Would he even manage to sleep this night, or any of the foreseeable next?
He could almost believe it when the words were spoken from her lips. He'd die someday still wholeheartedly believing that there was sorcery in her voice.
And our love through darkness
Don't forget to keep believing
With love forlorn
In love we'll find our way
My love
Those lines brought a faint smile to his lips. The first time she had sung them to him, he had wondered what it would be like to hear her speak such words to him and mean them. Now he knew.
He closed his eyes as she finished the song and softly sang its final lines, but he knew that sleep would not come this night any more than it had the last.
Aemilia kissed him one last time after she sang, and he murmured his love for her against her lips once more. He savored the feeling of her smile against his mouth, and then a few moments later, she was asleep, and he was not.
He knew that the next day would prove to be among the most pivotal of his existence. He couldn't have fathomed quite how pivotal it would truly be.
A/N 2: Ooooooooohhhhhh major major things are a-coming! I have to thank each and everyone of you reading for keeping up with this story and taking the time to read each super long chapter :D Also, super extra mega thanks to midnightwings96 for contributing her own writing to the story and always providing excellent feedback and help when the chapters start getting a little screwy here and there. I don't have much else to say this week, other than I love you guys, and I can't wait to get started on the next chapter :D much angst ahead :D