*A/N: Attention! The italics are NOT, and I repeat, are NOT real. They are visions that are part of Loki's torture (cause we all love to torture Loki :D)*
Three months later, Aemilia found herself thankfully in the midst of a well-established and quite successful new routine. Far from the bleak, dim existence that her life had become following Loki's fall, her days were now busy, productive, and considerably brighter. While the constant vocal, physical, and magical training would have seemed repetitive and possibly boring to an outside perspective, for her, it was a thing of comfort and also relief to be working towards clear goals that would only better herself.
Not only was she growing stronger in both body and magic, but her control over both was also greatly improving as well. None of it was easy, and Frigga was a kind but strict teacher, always pushing her to do better but never beyond her limits. She had never spent more time with the Queen than she did now, and as a result, she also felt closer to her than ever before.
In the same way, her additional combat training with Fandral had brought their friendship to new levels as well. He brought a level of fun to their sparring sessions that made them refreshing and enjoyable, though he didn't exactly go easy on her, either. He never let her forget that he had been expertly battling foes all throughout the Nine Realms longer than she had been alive, and yet as intimidating as that fact should have been, it was hard to be intimidated when he smiled and jested throughout each hour they spent at it.
Some days, she would take a meal with the Queen, and others, Fandral would invite her along to lunch with him and the rest of the Warriors Three, and sometimes Sif and Thor as well. Solitude was certainly no longer a problem, and it felt good to laugh more and be among friends once again, even if there was still a void very present that nothing else could hope to fill. That wouldn't change, but it was much easier to deal with when she was surrounded by what felt more and more like a second, much needed, family.
But that didn't mean that her first family was forgotten. In fact, on a particularly bright afternoon those four months later, Aemilia found herself walking more cheerfully down the halls of the palace than she had in some time, due to the impending arrival of her father for their first meeting in what seemed like ages. He had sent her a letter a few days before, asking if she would like to meet for lunch, and she had replied so quickly and enthusiastically that it had taken even herself by surprise. But she had missed him quite dearly, far more than her mother.
The air was warm and the sky above beautiful as she left the palace walls, making her way to the courtyard just in time to see a familiar carriage come to a halt. A smile spread across her lips as the door of the carriage opened and familiar blue eyes twinkled at her.
She had nearly forgotten how large Haidr was, watching his large frame step out the carriage and then move towards her with a warm smile on his face and his arms outstretched. Just like always, he utterly dwarfed her as he pulled her in for a hug, greeting her quietly, "Hello, my dear daughter."
"Hello, Father," she smiled into the embrace, the word not feeling as strange as it initially had when she had discovered her true paternity. Blood aside, he was her father, and whatever his faults in the past, there was no doubting his love for her.
He pulled away after giving her a squeeze, looking her over carefully as parents did and saying, "You look very well."
"You sound surprised," she smiled, though the reason he had to be surprised was nothing to smile about.
"Well, your mother described you very worryingly the last time she saw you," he explained. "But I see now that you have fared quite well without us."
She nodded, her smile shrinking a little. "She saw me during a... very difficult time. But I am better now. Much better." She then smiled and reached up to touch some of Haidr's graying light brown hair, saying, "And look at you! I've not seen you with braids in decades."
"Ah, yes, those," he sighed as they turned to start walking towards the palace entrance. "Not my doing, I assure you."
She smiled. "I think you look quite distinguished with them. I remember trying to braid your hair as a child and failing miserably."
"Yes, but you did succeed in putting so many flowers in it that I would find petals for days after."
She laughed at the happy memory, and they continued to chat pleasantly as they made their way towards the Great Hall. Once there, assembling their rather large plates was a quick process, followed by singling out one of the few unoccupied tables and sitting down across from one another at it.
Her father stared with surprise at the amount of food on her plate and asked, "My dear - has your appetite doubled since you lived with us?"
She chuckled and shook her head. "Not exactly. But I have grown used to eating this much, now that I am more... active, shall we say."
"Active," he raised an eyebrow. "Yes. I have heard rumors of your combat training with none other than the Queen herself."
"You have?" she asked, genuinely surprised to hear this.
"Well, your mother has," he amended. "And she passed the information along to me."
"Oh." That made more sense. As Aemilia avoided contact with Ayre, she could just imagine the woman prying info from her friends and acquaintances at court.
"She has also mentioned a particular rumor of you and Lord Fandral spending a great deal of time together as of late," he said, expression unreadable as to whether he approved or disapproved of this.
She rolled her eyes a bit and assured him, "It is nothing like that, Father. He is helping to train me, and we are friends."
"I am glad to hear it," he said as she then began to eat. "He may be one of our finest warriors, but he has a... reputation."
"Oh, I am well aware," she smiled. "But he has never been anything but respectful to me, I assure you."
He nodded, satisfied with her answers. "Good. And is your training going well? I never imagined you as one to train in combat."
"Neither did I," she admitted. "But it is coming along well, as well as I can expect. It was quite difficult at first. I had next to no strength and would tire quickly, but the Queen was patient with me. I feel much stronger now, though I know I have lot more to learn."
"Do you train in the arena?" he asked.
"I train with the Queen elsewhere, but I train with Fandral there."
"If you wouldn't mind," he said quietly, "I should like to perhaps watch for a bit one day."
"Really?" she smiled, surprised. She had for some reason feared that he would disapprove or dismiss her efforts, but perhaps she was projecting her expectations for her mother onto him. "I would like that."
"You have changed," he observed, but there was no trace of negativity in his tone. "You do indeed seem... stronger than before."
She paused, swallowing against the sudden swell of emotion in her throat. "I have been through a lot in a short amount of time," she replied, though Haidr didn't truly know the half of it. He knew of Loki's death, but not of the depth of their love nor the child they had lost. She couldn't bear to inform him of either thing. Subconsciously, she nervously fiddled with the ring that still rested on her finger. She had not taken it off once.
Haidr's deep blue eyes fell to her fidgeting hand, and she immediately froze. He looked back and forth between the rare stone and the obvious pain and discomfort in her eyes. He was silent for a long time before quietly asking, "Would you like to tell me about it?"
She broke his gaze to swallow back oncoming tears. She stared at the ring for a long time before she sniffed and looked back to her awaiting Father. "Perhaps…," she said, voice weaker than she had intended, "Perhaps, another time?"
Aemilia saw nothing but understanding and compassion in his gaze. He nodded before reaching across the table and grasping her hand. "I am sorry that you had to go through these things alone," he said sincerely.
She smiled sadly. "I've not been alone, Father, not truly. The Queen... she has been more of a mother to me than Mother has been in a very long time. I did feel alone at first, but the truth is, I was far more alone at home than I am here."
Haidr's expression became pained, though that hadn't been her intention. "I am truly sorry, Aemilia."
She shrugged lightly. "Anything you were at fault for, I've long forgiven you. I know you've never hurt me intentionally. Unlike Mother." Then she paused and asked quietly, "Does she know that we are meeting?"
He shook his head and causally took a drink as he said, "I didn't feel that it was necessary to share the news with her." She smiled, and he smiled back a bit humorously before adding, "Besides, I have no desire to be interrogated upon my return for every last detail of your appearance and what we spoke of."
"Indeed," she agreed, smile lingering on her face as they continued to eat.
The rest of the meal passed pleasantly, and Aemilia only realized then just how deeply she had missed his company. Over the course of the next hour, they agreed to make a routine of it and see one another weekly, then took a stroll through the gardens together. It was easy, not at all stressful or forced on her part, and the only nervous moment came towards the end of the visit, when they had reached the front of the gardens and the conversation had swirled back around to her training.
"I must ask," he said, his tone curious as he sat down on a small, ornate bench near some roses. She nodded and sat next to him. "How did your training come about? Surely you do not wish to fight alongside our armies."
"Oh no," she shook her head. "Actually, it came about because..."
... Because of something that neither of her parents knew about. The day had gone wonderfully thus far, and she was very comfortable speaking openly with Haidr, but she wasn't sure if she was quite ready to share her magic with him just yet.
"Yes?" he asked gently, sensing her hesitation. "You do not need to speak of it if you do not wish, but... if it is something you wish to keep between us, I assure you, I will not tell another soul."
She looked at him, carefully debating the matter within her mind for a good few moments. He was a battle-tested warrior, and had been most of his life; such men in Asgard held little esteem for the more delicate art of magic. He may think it a waste of time at best, and at worst, a dishonorable and shameful practice.
But, if false rumors of herself and Fandral had reached her mother's ears, then it was only a matter of time before ones regarding her magic did as well. Perhaps it was best to take the risk and confide in him, hoping for at least a neutral reaction over a negative one.
"I began my training because I was weak," she stated simply. "And I needed to be strong to keep learning something else that I have been studying for some time."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Singing?"
"No," she shook her head. "Though I have been working hard on that, as well." Then she looked at him hesitantly and asked, "Would you like me to show you?"
"Yes, I would," he replied sincerely.
She then rubbed her hands together lightly, taking a cleansing breath as she cleared her mind and tried to center herself the way that Frigga was always telling her to. Then she lifted her right hand a bit into the air, and as she stared at her palm calmly but intently, she imagined a violet rose blooming into life right in the middle of it.
Flowers were good exercises, Frigga had said, because the level of detail needed to project a good one required discipline of the mind and a fair amount of patience. She was learning how to have greater amounts of both, and it showed in the flower that appeared right in the center of her palm. It looked to all of the world like any other flower born of dirt and seeds, rather than magic and the will of her mind.
Tentatively, she held her hand towards her father and looked at him cautiously as he stared at the rose. She waited anxiously for a response for what seemed like forever, until he looked up and met her gaze as he said quietly, "Magic?"
She nodded. "I've been learning for a long time now. Even while I was still at home."
Though he looked flabbergasted, she could see no disapproval or disdain anywhere in his expression yet. She could tell, though, that he was figuring out the unspoken story behind her magic, and he confirmed as much by asking, "Did the Prince teach you this?"
She nodded. "I asked him to."
He touched the flower then, and she let it carefully drop into his own hand. "I had not the vaguest idea that you could practice magic."
"I didn't either, until I was shown how," she replied. Then she could not help but ask, "Do you disapprove?"
He looked up and met her eyes with confusion in his own. "Why would I disapprove?"
Her eyebrows shot up a little in surprise. "Well... typically, people do not particularly care for magic, particularly this kind."
"My dear," he said, gently holding the flower with one hand and placing his other arm around her in a comforting embrace, "I could not be more proud to call you my daughter."
Eyes instantly filling with tears at this most unexpected declaration, Aemilia let him draw her into a hug and closed her eyes, feeling no shame or annoyance in letting the tears fall. She had heard such things from him so rarely in the past that hearing it now was a pleasant shock, and something that she hadn't known that she needed until that moment.
"Thank you, Father," she said, her head on his shoulder. "I love you."
"And I love you, Aemilia," he replied. "I will do better to show you this in the future."
She hugged him tighter, just for a moment, letting him know how much she needed just that. She had expected none of this, and that made his acceptance and love all the more powerful.
He was not perfect, but neither was she. His blood wasn't the blood that ran in her veins, but in that moment, she had never been more convinced of how insignificant a thing that truly was.
"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 monster that he had always been - 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. "Of course I do. ... 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 to 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 the 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 heard her quietly ask, "How?"
Loki kept his back to her when he angrily replied, "My Fa—Odin found me as a newborn, abandoned in the aftermath of a war-ruined Jotunheim. He took me, and raised me amongst lies and deceit."
"You…you're a frost giant."
He finally turned around to find her standing 10 feet away from him, her face white as a sheet and her eyes wide in disbelief and shock. She blinked rapidly, trying to process this information. "My…my father use to tell me scary stories as a child about f-frost giants," she said, as if it were difficult for her to say those two words. "You're…," she paused, hesitantly looking into his still angrily red eyes, "You're a…monster."
Loki had expected this, the rejection, but that did nothing to cushion the blow of actually hearing her say that. He felt tears spring back into his eyes at her words. "Aemilia," he said quietly, taking a step towards her.
She immediately took a step back. "No. No, don't come any closer," she said, voice low in volume but laced with alarm.
He came closer anyway, desperate for her to understand. "Aemilia, I would never hurt you, you know that."
She avoided him, attempting to keep as much distance between them as possible. "No, I…I can't deal with this right now. I have to go." Clearly flustered, she turned and headed for the door.
Loki was just about to call out to her again when she stopped dead in her tracks with a heavy gasp. "Aemilia?"
"No. No, no, no, no, no!" she chanted in between strained inhales that quickly turned to gut wrenching sobs. "I spent weeks blaming myself, desperately trying to figure out why I lost it, what I had done to cause a miscarriage," she whipped around, hot tears streaming down her face and hatred burning her eyes, "but it was because of you! Because of what you are!"
Loki felt his heart drop to his stomach in horror. "Aemilia," he desperately pleaded, taking a step further, "I didn't know! I didn't mean to do anything!"
"It doesn't matter! Our baby is still dead and it's your fault!"
Both Loki and Aemilia were in full tears now, and when he finally reached her where she had pressed herself against the door, he grasped her shoulders in a final attempt to get her to calm down and see reason. She visibly flinched and grimaced at the contact. His voice came out in a broken whisper, "Aemilia, please. I didn't know…I didn't know…"
Her eyes met his, and they were filled with overwhelming grief, but he saw no pity for him anywhere in their green and brown depths, only disgust. "Let me go, Loki. I can't stand the sight of you."
It took Loki a long moment to fully process what she said, but with one final, guilt-ridden glance, he let her go, and she immediately turned and left as quickly as her feet would take her. She never looked back.
With a sharp inhale and flash of light, Loki was sucked from the vision in a panic, frantically shaking his head from side to side, as if he could somehow shake the false images from his tortured mind. Tears streamed down his face at what he just witnessed, despite knowing the truth and desperately clinging to it like a life line.
Aemilia was the only thing in his mind that had remained pure and light and true, and now they were trying to take her away from him.
"Your determination and will is impressive," the Other hissed, his voice echoing around him and invading his mind, "but it will not last. Freedom is life's great lie. As soon as you accept that, in your heart, you will know peace."
And then he was sucked into another vision, only to realize in horror that he was being forced to watch the same one over again. And again.
And again.
After Aemilia parted ways with her father, she met with Fandral for her afternoon training session. About an hour in, Fandral called for a break.
"So, you've had nearly four months of training now," he said as they walked to the side of the arena for a drink. Aemilia nodded, wiping some sweat off her temple. "I was thinking—and if you're not comfortable with the idea that's totally fine—I was thinking that we could also start lessons in a weapon of your choice," he said with a grin.
Aemilia immediately found herself grinning back at the idea. "I might be interested."
Fandral splashed some cool water onto the back of his neck before looking up at her through his blonde lashes, smirk still firmly in place. "In that case, let me show you some possibilities." She followed him eagerly to the display of various weaponry that was constantly kept at the arena. Aemilia felt slightly intimidated by some of the pieces before her, but kept her grin in place as Fandral begin.
Of course, he first picked up a sword. "First, the sword," he said, getting into a fighting stance. "While it is the most common of weapon in Asgard, very few truly master the art." He intricately swirled the deadly looking sword around before jabbing it at a fictitious being before him. Fandral held his stance for a moment before giving Aemilia a smug side glance, "Luckily, I am the deadliest swordsman in all the land, and so if you were to choose the sword as your weapon, you would be receiving a priceless education that most men would kill for."
Aemilia rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I'm sure. Utterly priceless."
"Quite right, my Lady," he said with a wide smile while he hung the sword back up and moved on. "Next, we have the bow and arrow, which I must discourage you from because one, it's not particularly useful in hand to hand combat, and two, I was never particularly drawn to the art so I'm afraid you would get a very poor education where archery is concerned."
Aemilia looked at him in mock surprise and gasped, "The great warrior Fandral is not as perfect as they all say? Oh, no!" The man heartily laughed at her sarcasm and her façade immediately fell to laughter as well.
"Well, I may not be the most adept at archery, but I am fairly skilled with our next option." He then pulled a gigantic, horrifying weapon from its display. It looked like it still had a few specks of blood on it, too, and Aemilia almost choked at the idea of using it. hilt. Fandral's knowing grin held firmly in place, he said, "The battle axe."
"Yes, clearly I am strong enough to wield a battle axe of that size."
"Of course!" he replied and handed her the axe. "Here, hold it." She looked at him warily before wrapping both hands around the hilt.
As soon as he let go, Aemilia almost fell down from the weight, but he grasped it again before she dropped it, laughing all the while. Glaring at him and his flushed, laughing face, she playfully slapped him on the shoulder. "Not funny," she said, though she was smiling the entire time.
He hung the axe back up. "Nope, it was actually hilarious," he jested back. "Now, let's move on. Next, we have the spear. Wielding a spear requires enormous amounts of strength and coordination. Loki was particularly good with a spear, just as he was with a dagger. A dagger can be absolutely lethal, but it definitely requires the most difficult technique. Also, unless you're throwing them of course, using a dagger requires you to get closer to the enemy than most people are comfortable with. However, it is the easiest to conceal." Fandral paused for a moment. Aemilia knew that he was hesitant when bringing up Loki, afraid to upset her. She appreciated his concern. "Loki would have been the best instructor for that, however I definitely know my way around a dagger well enough to teach you."
The previously light-hearted and humorous air around them had turned quietly solemn as she looked at all the weapons glinting in the sunset. She knew long before this afternoon which weapon she wanted to use and what would suit her needs the most, and despite the difficulty, it did not sway her. Looking back at Fandral, who was watching her expectantly, she said with a small smile, "With your instruction, I would love to learn how to use a dagger."
It took him a moment to acknowledge her answer, but soon he smiled back and bowed his head. "It will be an honor to teach you, Lady Aemilia." When he raised up, she could see an idea light up his face. "This calls for a celebration!" She couldn't help but chuckle. Fandral, though he seemed to have backed away from his normal escapades with maidens, jumped on any opportunity to drink and be merry.
"What do you have in mind?"
"Why, Lithasblot commences tonight, my Lady! It is our duty as Asgardians to celebrate the bountiful harvest with dancing and singing and a mug of ale in each hand!" As he exclaimed in glee, he hooked his arm with hers and skipped around, and the two fell into hearty, care-free laughter together.
After a couple of rotations, Aemilia replied breathlessly, "Well, if it is our duty, I say we must!"
Fandral's brilliant smile lit up the entire arena. "Wonderful! I shall spread the word onto Thor, Sif, Volstagg, and Hogun!" Then he started briskly walking—practically skipping—towards the palace.
Aemilia fell in line with him. Amused at his eagerness, she asked, "I'm assuming our training has concluded for the day?"
"Yes, yes. You've been training hard, Aemilia." He paused and Aemilia followed suit. "And you have come so very far in such a short time." He gingerly grasped her hand. "I am very proud of your dedication," he said, his blue eyes shining with sincerity, but then Aemilia saw a bit of mischief spark in their depths, "but you are long overdue for a bit of festivities and merriment."
He wasn't wrong. Aemilia had been nose to the grindstone for nearly four months now, and it had been intentional. It had thoroughly helped her cope with everything, and it still was. However…she supposed a bit of fun wouldn't hurt. She looked at him coyly and said, "…I do believe you're right, Fandral."
He laughed in exuberance and he returned his quick pace to the palace with a steady hand on her shoulder. When they entered the palace and had to part ways, he asked, "Shall we meet just before twilight, outside the tavern?"
She nodded with a smile, "We shall." Then, Fandral surely went to spread the news to Thor and the rest, and Aemilia went to find Gunnvarr to spread the news as well.
She found her handmaiden just as she was leaving her chambers, and when they met in the hallway, Gunnvarr greeted her with a smile and a chipper, "Good afternoon, my lady."
"Good afternoon, Gunnvarr," Aemilia smiled back. "How goes your day?"
"Busy as always," the woman replied. "Is there anything you need from me?"
"Yes, actually," Aemilia replied. "I plan to attend the festivities tonight and hoped that you could send word to Lady Elida and ask if she would arrive with me."
Gunnvarr's expression lit with pleasant surprise. "Of course I will! I am glad to hear that you will be attending the festival. It is about time you enjoyed some leisure time, if I may be so bold."
Aemilia smiled and replied, "You may always be so bold, Gunnvarr."
The handmaiden then briefly smiled back and said, "I will send word immediately to your friend, and I will be back later to help you prepare for the night."
Aemilia nodded, and as they began to part ways, she stopped and said, "Oh, Gunnvarr? Take the night off for yourself, as well. You deserve some leisure yourself."
Gunnvarr smiled brightly and bowed her head. "I am certainly in no position to argue, my lady."
Aemilia chuckled, and they said their goodbyes. She then turned, drew a breath, and walked into her chambers.
She liked the idea of the festival more and more as the day went on.
As the afternoon reached its final hours later that day, Aemilia walked quite nearly cheerfully from her chambers and through the hallways of the palace, having just received word that Elida had arrived and was waiting for her near the main entrance.
Since she had first met the rather small but no less talented lady, Aemilia had run into her at the theater a few more times and ended up making a quite unexpected new friend. They had made a habit of meeting for lunch a few times during the week after their separate rehearsals, and Elida had even visited her in the palace, much to the girl's excitement. It felt as if it had been ages since she'd had a female friend close to her own age—at least since her schooling as a child—and Elida's company always served as a light whenever Aemilia's own darkness came creeping in. She reminded Aemilia of Fandral, in the sense that she was an optimistic, friendly, and happy person. Her outlook on life was infectious, and her little quirks and unbelievable ability to trip on air—how the girl could be so clumsy while still dancing with as much grace and beauty of a swan was beyond Aemilia—always managed to bring a smile to her face. Aemilia always walked away from their times together feeling a bit better and more cheerful than she had going into them. Elida's presence at the festival was simply non-negotiable.
When Elida's shining blonde head came into view at the doors, a goblet of something in her hand as she chatted with a few other ladies, Aemilia smiled and hurried her steps along. Elida was looking in the opposite direction when Aemilia approached, and with a mischievous smile on her face, she reached forward and lightly poked the girl on her shoulder while saying her name. Predictably, Elida jumped and the contents of her cup splashed into the air but thankfully not on anyone or herself as she whipped around with an adorable little yelp and then broke out into a laugh.
"Oh, Nine Realms! I continue to embarrass myself in front of you every time we meet," Elida laughed, cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment.
Aemilia laughed with her and shrugged off her concern. "It's quite all right. Honestly, I couldn't resist. I know how jumpy you are."
"Yes, and it is not an enviable trait," Elida sighed. She then said with playful envy, "I suppose not all of us can be as poised as you."
Aemilia scoffed very lightly. "You are very kind, as always. And you look quite lovely today."
Smiling and briefly touching the intricate but still festival-appropriate hairstyle atop her head and smoothing down the soft, sky blue chiffon of her dress, Elida replied, "Thank you. And you as well, of course, as you do every day," referring to Aemilia's rich, deep blue gown and long, intricate braid.
Aemilia chuckled, "Much more of these compliments and I fear my humility might be dealt a significant blow."
"Good!" Elida laughed. "As well it should. Besides, have you seen yourself in your armor?" The exuberant girl had simply exploded with compliments and praise upon seeing her armor for the first time. That was a month ago, and she still mentioned it at least once every time they saw each other, much to Aemilia's amusement.
"I have," Aemilia chuckled, "but perhaps you could continue heaping praise upon me in the carriage, before we are late."
"Right," Elida said. As they turned towards their transportation, Aemilia had to dodge the puddle of what looked like wine from Elida's spill.
"You do realize we are headed for a tavern, right?" she asked.
Elida flushed a light pink before replying with a grin, "I was hoping a bit of wine would calm my nerves beforehand. You know how I am with first impressions."
"Oh, I definitely do."
Elida sighed at the memory of their first encounter before visibly straightening her posture, as if that would shake away her nerves. "I am not that anxious. Do not worry about me."
Aemilia grinned knowingly at her friend as they approached the carriage. "Good. You shouldn't be. You are only about to meet the Prince of Asgard and the most well-known warriors in all the realm, and spend the night celebrating alongside them."
Elida's face fell a bit as a servant opened the carriage door, holding it for her to enter first. "That is not entirely helpful, Aemilia."
Aemilia shrugged and carefully stepped up into the carriage after her. "... You will get used to it." She paused. "Eventually."
And with that, the two women headed off into the night, towards the festivities and celebrations happening in the very center of the city. The ride there was not long, and it took all of one peer out of the carriage window for Aemilia to spot both Thor's and Fandral's heads towering above the crowds.
After the carriage drew to a stop, Aemilia turned to Elida, lightly grasped her hand, and asked, "Ready, dear?"
She, too, had seen the Prince and his best mate, if her wide eyes were any indication. "As I shall ever be," the woman sighed resolutely.
"Good. Let's go." Aemilia all but dragged the younger woman from the carriage, weaving them in and out of the large crowd.
The festival was in full swing, hanging lanterns illuminating the twilight sky, the overwhelming smell of food from various venders in the streets, and cheerful music coming from every direction. It reminded Aemilia very much of the festival she and Loki had attended in Vanaheim, although this was much more proper and…well-behaved.
As they neared the tavern, Aemilia made eye contact with Fandral and waved. He smiled brightly in response and met her in the middle, grasping her hand and pulling her from the crowds with Elida right behind.
"I was wondering if you were going to make us wait all night!" he jested, releasing her hand and returning to Thor's side.
"It is beneficial to occasionally practice patience, Fandral," she said while bowing her head in greeting to Thor, who already had a mug of ale in his left hand. He seemed to be in a good mood today as well, Aemilia noted gratefully. It was difficult to see Thor without his usually pleasant and happy demeanor. She figured Fandral had something to do with that, too.
Aemilia then felt Elida at her side and proceeded to introduce her. "Thor, this is my friend Elida."
Thor looked down at the petite woman and smiled cheerfully, "Lady Elida, is wonderful to meet you!"
Elida was slightly open-mouthed at being in the large presence of the next King, but she managed to shake herself out of her mild trance before bowing her head and saying, "And I, you, your Highness!"
"And Elida, this is Lord Fandral, one of the Warriors Three and protector of the Realm. Not to mention my mentor."
"Lady Elida! I have heard many good things about you! It is a pleasure to finally put such a lovely face to Aemilia's stories," he genuinely stated, grasping her small hand in his and bending to kiss her porcelain skin.
Well, Aemilia thought, if she wasn't flustered before, she surely is now.
And sure enough, when she glanced over to Elida, her face was aflame in a rosy blush as she let out a tiny, nervous giggle. "I…I have heard many things about you, as well."
Still holding her hand, he looked up with a grin—he knew full well what he was doing to the girl—and said, "Only good things, I hope." He then glanced at Aemilia for confirmation.
"Oh, only awful things! I do say that Elida must get absolutely sick of me constantly complaining about you and your insufferable ego," she playfully replied.
Fandral released Elida's hand and wagged his eyebrows, "Oh, I'm sure."
Thor then interjected, "Let's bring this conversation into the tavern, shall we? Sif and the others are already seated, and Volstagg must be on his fifth mug ale by now."
"Finally! I need about five drinks myself!" Elida suddenly exclaimed. All three heads swiveled down to look at her with surprised expressions. She immediately blushed again and shrugged, "Because, well, meeting princes and lords and ladies makes me, uh, nervous. And my nerves always make me embarrass myself, like falling, tripping, or rambling…which I'm doing now…Anyway! I will, uh, be at the bar," she muttered, her rosy blush firmly in place. With a quickly said, "See you inside," Elida spun around and practically ran inside. Aemilia could only watch her disappear with amusement and slight sympathy.
Thor was the first to break the small silence, "She is certainly a very interesting girl, Aemilia." He didn't say it like a negative comment, simply an intrigued one.
The three then entered the tavern. "She is certainly unconventional. I find her to be an absolute breath of fresh air."
"I would agree! I can see why you said she lightens your mood," Fandral said, "I feel to be in a better mood as well."
"Are you sure that's not simply because of the ever-nearing prospect of alcohol?"
Fandral considered his answer and said with a smile, "Perhaps both."
The two men led her to their table in the very center of the tavern. Just as Thor said, Volstagg had just downed his fifth ale and was currently smashing his glass and yelling for another. Hogun, as always, sat in silence, peacefully sipping at his drink. And Sif—in her armor, per usual—was just polishing off what looked to be her second glass. They all greeted each other, and before Aemilia sat down, she made sure she saw Elida at the bar, who was waving for a drink.
Aemilia ordered a glass of wine to start, and the six of them fell into light conversation until Elida decided to join them. When she came up to the table, Aemilia noted that she already seemed much more relaxed than before and that she had a full glass of what looked like whiskey. She must have already downed one.
Aemilia had her sit to her right, since Fandral was to her left. That meant she was also next to Volstagg, making a hilarious sight. Considering the man's impressive height and width, Elida looked like one of his children in comparison. She quickly introduced her friend to the rest, which went rather smoothly, and they all fell into comfortable conversation once more.
It was all going absolutely wonderfully, until Aemilia heard a voice behind her that belonged to someone she never thought she'd have to endure again.
"Well, well, look who we have here. The dead Prince's lapdog, drinking away her sorrows."
Ilyana.
Aemilia's blood immediately began to boil as her mood was shot to Hel in a matter of seconds. She was frozen in her chair, unable to move a muscle after such an onslaught of emotions hit her as hard as being hit by the broad side of Mjolnir would feel like. Her eyes shifted to all of her friends, who had not heard the woman's obnoxiously shrill voice or noticed her putrid presence, thank Valhalla.
But, of course, the whore wouldn't take being ignored.
"Oh, dear, I do believe she's attempting to ignore me…or perhaps she's just simply stupid without Prince Loki at her side."
Somehow, despite her building rage and all-consuming hatred, something about that comment made Aemilia deathly calm. Gone was the uncontrollable emotions, what was left was an eerie type of peace that left only one thought in her mind: revenge.
She slowly rose from her chair, which got the attention of all of her table. She made eye contact with Elida for a split second, and the blonde immediately looked concerned for her friend, seeing the uncharacteristic burning behind her eyes. Aemilia lips up ticked into a calm half smile, and then she turned around to face Ilyana.
The infuriating woman looked the exact same—beautiful, tall, blue-eyed—save for one thing: her glorious white-blonde mane that had once brushed her lower back, was now cut up to her chin. It was with an enormous amount of pride that Aemilia realized that she had most likely had to shave her entire head after she scorched it with a flaming magical spider, and only just now was it starting to get some length back.
"Oh, excuse me, Lady Ilyana," she started. Her voice surprised even herself. It was steady, calm, lower, but had an underlying edge that was actually quite unnerving. "I did not hear what you said, would you please repeat it? And do go slow, it takes my simple mind some time to understand someone of your high intellect."
The woman sneered at her, clearly not finding her humorous. She went on with her taunting without so much as a blink. "So I hear you're trying to be a little warrior now. How…cute."
Aemilia said nothing, smile locked into place.
"And I hear Lord Fandralis your teacher, how wonderful!" She leaned in closer to whisper and Aemilia almost reeled back at her sickeningly strong perfume. "He is certainly athletic…of course, you wouldn't understand in thatsense." She pulled away, but then stopped as if a thought had occurred to her. "Unless of course, you've been fucking him, too. Please, Aemilia, if you would like to get into the business, I can certainly get you in touch with—"
"You know, Ilyana," she interrupted, "It is an absolute shame what happened to your beautiful hair. Who would do such a thing?"
She clearly hit a nerve, if her clenching jaw was any indication. With a visible swallow, she hissed, "You know exactly who did this! You're traitorous monster of a—"
Illyana stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as she saw what was sitting in Aemilia's upturned, right palm.
It was a large, black spider.
At Ilyana's sputtering, Aemilia felt her smile turn into a devious grin, eyes aflame with hatred. The older woman jumped when the spider started crawling up Aemilia's arm and over her shoulders at an alarming speed. It made its way, circling and taunting the entire time, to her left hand, and as soon as it reached her palm, it burst into white hot flames, causing the blonde to yelp in surprise.
And as fast as it ignited, it disappeared with a quick flash of green light.
Ilyana's realization of who the realperson was behind her burnt hair turned from shock to hatred in a mere moment. "You bitch!" she screamed through the tavern, utterly silencing the entire establishment.
Aemilia saw the enraged blonde's outstretched hand fly towards her cheek. The new warrior sprang into action, catching her hand with ease in a surprisingly tight hold. She may still be a novice in combat, but she could certainly take on this weak, ignorant girl. The two women made eye contact for a split second—shocked blue and vengeful green—before Aemilia whipped the taller woman around so fast her head spun and twisted her arm behind her with strong grip, threatening to dislocate her shoulder.
Ilyana yelped in surprise and pain, and Aemilia saw tears brimming in her big eyes. Good.
"Now that I have your attention," she began, "you will not speak to me again. You will not approach me or my companions, and if I hear of you speaking ill of Loki one…more…time,"she growled, "you can rest assured that I will find you and make sure you never speak again. Am I clear?" Ilyana only whimpered, and Aemilia in turned pulled her arm back a bit more. "I said, am I clear?"
The woman frantically nodded, desperate to get out of her hold.
Aemilia smiled, "Wonderful! Now get out."
Ilyana ran out without looking back.
The tavern was deathly quiet, all eyes on Aemilia, and as she turned around, she saw Fandral on his feet with one hand on the hilt of his sword and all the others staring with shocked expressions, to say the least.
"Oh dear," Elida said, breaking the silence, her hand on her heart as she stared at Aemilia with wide eyes. "I cannot tell if I am utterly terrified or if I just fell in love with you a bit."
Aemilia smiled and relaxed her stance, her rage completely dissipating into just warm and buzzing adrenaline. Everyone else relaxed as well, including Fandral who placed a hand on Aemilia's shoulder and said to the table, "Well then, as you can see, my training has indeed paid off."
"And my mother's," Thor replied, giving Aemilia a wink and a smile filled with what looked to be an older brother-type pride as Fandral helped her back to her seat. "I am impressed!"
"And I am relieved," Sif interjected, looking at Aemilia appreciatively. "I have waited far too long to see that... woman put in her place."
Aemilia took a sip of her drink and smiled back a little surprised, then became even more surprised when even Hogun chimed in, "She is more serpent than woman." For one as silent as him to express such an opinion was truly a damning indictment of Ilyana's character.
Aemilia then glanced to Elida, who was still eyeing her with a mix of wariness and dreamy admiration. "The... spider is gone now, yes?" Elida asked in a small, cautious voice, making Aemilia chuckle.
"Yes, it is gone. Don't worry. I only conjure it for those I particularly despise, not those I am particularly fond of."
Elida sighed in relief, and then Volstagg set down his drink with a thud before declaring, "Ah, well then! As entertaining and welcome as that was to witness, let the celebration continue!"
"Agreed," Fandral said, signaling to a passing barmaid for another round of drinks. He then turned a grin on the table and said, "Might I suggest a drinking game?"
Volstagg howled with assent, and Aemilia rolled her eyes at Elida while Sif laughed and said, "Oh please. You boys must enjoy losing."
Thor joined in on the chorus of male "oooh"s that followed her remark, and Volstagg replied with, "Ha! We shall see who emerges victorious! What game shall we play?"
All eyes then went to Thor, and Aemilia got the feeling that he was always the one in the group to lead such activities and decide what to do. He smiled and appeared to think for a moment before his eyes lit up. "While I was on Midgard, my friend Darcy told me of a game that she played with others at her place of education. It is called 'Never Have I Ever'."
"What is this game?" Volstagg inquired with great curiosity.
"Well," Thor explained, "we each take turns stating something that we have never done. Whoever has done it must take a drink."
"Ah," Fandral grinned, leaning forward on the table. "I think I shall like this game very much. Who will go first?"
"I suppose that I will," Thor said, pausing as he thought of something to start with. "Ah. Never have I ever proposed marriage."
Hogun and Volstagg groaned before taking a drink, while everyone else refrained and Sif said, "What kind of start is that?"
Thor shrugged with a challenging smile and said, "Well, you take the next turn and show me how it's done, then."
"I shall," she grinned at him before looking around the table and saying, "Never have I ever bedded a woman."
Aemilia laughed as every male at the table groaned before taking a drink, but then small, inconspicuous movements to her right made her look at Elida. With big, innocent eyes, she quietly took a drink herself, and Aemilia's eyes widened in surprise. Fandral noticed this as well, and soon everyone was looking at her swiftly reddening cheeks.
Elida shrank a bit in her chair, her seemingly ever-present blush firmly in place, and then let out a tipsy giggle. "It was only one time," she shrugged, grinning slightly. "After an opening night. Nerves and adrenaline, you know. And she was very pretty."
Fandral then leaned forward, looking at her with a growing grin before urging, "Well, don't stop there, my lady. And then what happened?"
Elisa's blush intensified and she giggled nervously again before Sif across the table scolded, "Fandral! Don't embarrass the poor girl."
"Oh no, it's all right," Elida smiled, who was starting to get a slightly dazed look in her eyes from all the alcohol she had consumed. "I would be curious, too! It's only natural, I suppose. What I mean is," she lazily waved her hand as if that would help her explanation, "I would be particularly…intrigued of the topic of two men, too. The prospect is compelling for both genders, in my…uh…opinion, to hear about and…see. And I am going to be quiet now." She took another hearty drink, clearly deducing that she wasn't drunk enough, and avoided the heavily amused gazes of the entire table.
Aemilia chuckled and patted the girl's hand as Sif signaled to Hogun to go next. He took a moment to think, and then he said quietly, "Never have I ever dressed in women's clothing."
Of course, every lady present had to drink, and Aemilia nearly sputtered hers everywhere when she saw Thor and Volstagg both drink as well. "Oh, you both must explain!"
"I have quite a few daughters," Volstagg shrugged. "Enough said."
Thor smiled before setting his drink down and explaining, "Well, I once lost Mjolnir..."
"You lost Mjolnir?" Aemilia asked with wide eyes, wondering how that was even possible.
"Yes," he sighed. "It was a long, long time ago. I had to take it back from a giant who had stolen it, and he demanded the lady Freyja in marriage as payment for it."
"This is the best part," Fandral grinned, leaning back in his chair and slinging an arm across it.
"Of course, we would not give her as payment, so Loki's brilliant idea was to dress me up as a bride and make the giants think that I was Freyja and get the hammer back that way."
Aemilia actually did sputter that time, just a little bit. "Are you jesting?" The idea of Thor dressed in wedding garments was…thoroughly entertaining, if not a tad scarring.
Thor shook his head with a grin. "Oh no. Loki dressed as my bridesmaid, and those giants were quite dim, so the plan actually worked. He would give the weakest excuses when they became suspicious. For example, I ate an entire ox at the wedding banquet, and he told them I was only that hungry because I had been too nervous to eat earlier with my wedding anxiety."
Aemilia laughed along with the rest of the table, though the touch of pain to her heart that came with the mention of Loki's name came just as it always did. But she did not dwell on it, choosing instead to enjoy laughing and thinking fondly of his memory as the game then went on, this time with Volstagg's turn.
"Hmm... ah, I've got it. Never have I ever been out-feasted, even at the heartiest of feasts!"
Of course, Aemilia did not drink, and neither did anyone else aside from, to her surprise again, Elida.
"How very full of surprises you are," Aemilia smiled warmly at her as she drank.
She smiled back and gently wiped the corner of her lips as she replied, "I fear I will be unconscious before this game even concludes."
"Fandral, you are next," Thor said.
He grinned and brought his fingers to his chin and trim goatee, contemplating for a good few moments before saying, "Never have I ever been in a committed relationship."
While this wasn't surprising to Aemilia, she still glanced his way as she, and everybody else at the table drank. All except Elida and, most interestingly, Sif and Thor, who both began to drink but then did not. Aemilia noticed this and found it quite peculiar, if not very telling and likely interconnected.
"Anyway, your turn, dear Aemilia," Fandral said, grinning at her as she took a breath and then smiled as she began to think.
Truth be told, there were plenty of things to choose from, but perhaps not as many as those around her may have thought. She decided to go with an easy answer. "Never have I ever kissed a person of my same gender."
She expected Fandral to mutter about "technicalities" and drink, a reference to the time that Loki had taken on his female form and quite epically "pranked" Fandral. She did not, however, expect Thor to drink.
"... I must once again ask you to explain," she smiled.
He sighed and said, "I was once very drunk at a particularly... spirited celebration, and as we all know, male light elves can be particularly fair, and..."
"Oh dear," she laughed, feeling the alcohol flowing within her veins loosen up her laughter and make her feel quite warm.
"I nearly took the man to bed, and Fandral here didn't do a thing to stop me," he said with a pointed glare.
Fandral shrugged innocently. "Why should I have? I merely thought you were perhaps trying something new," he chuckled, indicating that he did not think that at all.
Thor sighed, saying, "Well, eventually I noticed evidence that he was not a woman before anything else could happen. Nothing against those who prefer such things, of course, but it is simply no desire of mine."
Sif then sighed, "He was quite beautiful. The two of you made quite a sight."
"Why have I never seen anything like this?" Elida lamented, drinking despite the fact that it wasn't time for the next turn yet. "Little wonder that everybody speaks so highly of palace celebrations, if beautiful men kiss one another at them all the time."
Aemilia suddenly burst into giggles, serving as further confirmation of how good she was starting to feel from the drinking, and then Elida laughed along with her as the game resumed.
The next interesting moment came during Sif's next turn, where she said, "Never have I ever had a threesome." Thor, Fandral, and surprisingly (or perhaps not) Hogun drank, and Aemilia hid a grin as she drank as well.
Thor and Fandral both stared at her in surprise, and she dissolved into laughter again.
"Really?" Fandral asked, curiosity sparkling in his eye, and she swallowed her drink and nodded. "Who in all of the Nine Realms would Loki have allowed to share his bed with you?"
"Himself, of course," she grinned.
Thor laughed and immediately knew what the circumstance must have been, but Fandral still needed further clarification. "Himself? Do you mean... his magic?"
She nodded, feeling slightly heated at the wonderful memory of that night. "Yes."
"I thought he only made illusions of himself." When she smiled and shrugged, Fandral raised his eyebrows and said, "Well now. Nobody mind me. I merely need a moment to be speechless and highly impressed."
Aemilia laughed, and then the game continued on with its blessedly light and fun nature. Poor Elida at her side drank so often and had such a low tolerance that she was the first to succumb to the alcohol, laughing and giggling until she ended up snoozing on Aemilia's shoulder. Meanwhile, the game eventually got sidetracked by stories that were told to explain or elaborate on certain topics, and the true drinking contest came down to Volstagg and, surprisingly, Sif. Even more surprisingly—though maybe not—Sif won.
Eventually, late into the night, when the game had officially fizzled out, Fandral leaned over to Aemilia and quietly invited her to take a walk with him outside. She had agreed, and after asking Sif to watch over the still-sleeping Elida, she followed him into the cool night air.
Despite the late hour, the festival was still in full swing, lanterns burning brighter and music playing louder than ever. Also, a large group had congregated into the center of it all, dancing, singing, and laughing with merriment. She heard a large, pounding bass drum that seemed to beat the same rhythm as her buzzing pulse. She wasn't completely drunk, however she was definitely more affected than she had been in a long time, and she loved it. This was the most pleasant and care-free she had felt since even before Loki's fall, and she couldn't help but slightly sway to the driving music.
Fandral pulled her from her trance with a light hand on her elbow and his closeness to her ear, "May I have this dance, my Lady?"
Aemilia immediately nodded with a large smile, and Fandral grasped her hand led her into the crowd.
She could tell he was fairly drunk, too. He always had a sense of relaxedness about him, but it was particularly pronounced now, his limbs loose and freely guided by the music. Also his normally frequent laughter was now fully unleashed, and his light, happy laughter only managed to raise Aemilia's spirits further.
When they finally reached an opening amongst the dancing bodies, Fandral pulled her close, left hand tightly grasping her right, and the other settled on the curve of her hip. The two made eye contact, both pairs lit in excitement, and Fandral half-yelled over the crowd, "You ready?"
And with her exuberantly exclaimed, "Yes!" they were off.
Dancing with Fandral reminded her of dancing with Thor. It was care-free, relaxed, and filled with such genuine happiness that it compelled Aemilia's heart to feel the same. Unlike Thor, however, she could keep up with Fandral. She didn't feel as if she was being dragged behind him like an afterthought. The two were completely in-sync with every step. Dancing with Fandral held none of the intensity that Aemilia felt when she had danced with Loki, nor was he as elegant as Loki (then again, who was?). It was just two people who had grown very close to each other through friendship and grief.
They eventually reached the outer rim of the crowd, just by the musicians. Aemilia's attention was momentarily distracted by them, and just as they approached the tavern, she tripped over Fandral's feet.
She let out a yelp as she pulled Fandral with her. Instinctually, Fandral tightened his grip on her waist just as she gripped his arms like a vise, and they slammed into the side wall of the Tavern, thoroughly ending their dance. As soon as the two made eye contact, they burst into laughter with her giggles and his charming roar of a laugh.
They stayed like that for who knows how long, Aemilia practically in tears from her giggling. And when they finally calmed down, she looked up from his chest, which she had just realized had been where her head had rested amongst her laughter. Her widening green-brown eyes immediately landed on his turquoise ones, and it was then it dawned on her how very close they were. His arms were still wrapped around her waist, her hands were still gripping his arms, their still heavily-breathing bodies were completely pressed against each other, and their faces were a mere a hairs width apart.
Her delirium with her current position and the still prevalent alcohol in her veins made her subsequently wonder how in Valhalla they had ended up here.
She didn't move, though, seemingly frozen to her spot, and neither did he. That is, until he did.
Shyly and almost self-consciously, Fandral slowly leaned in and closed the minute distance between them in a small, gentle kiss.
Aemilia remained frozen.
He lingered there, his lips soft but his goatee slightly rough, which made for an oddly pleasant juxtaposition. He eventually pulled away for a split second, and they made eye contact yet again. She could tell he was asking for permission, but Aemilia—somewhere deep in her hazy, surprised mind—couldn't find it in herself to agree or refuse.
But Fandral decided for her, kissing her again, with just the slightest more pressure, attempting to get some reaction out of her.
She didn't realize she was tentatively kissing him back until she already was. It wasn't anything intense—it was much too unsure for that—but it wasn't a mere peck either.
It was only until she realized that she actually was enjoying it that she came to her senses. With suddenly very sober eyes and a gasp, Aemilia pulled away, her breathing picking up speed as it dawned on her what she'd just done.
The guilt she had been overcome with upon his passing had been—as of recently—receding more and more, and she was finally finding her happiness again. But within mere seconds, the flood gates had opened again, and Aemilia was hit with a tidal wave of guilt that made her wrench herself from Fandral's grip and take two steps back.
Her heart was pounding out of her chest.
"Aemilia," Fandral started taking a step towards her. He clearly looked very concerned and guilt-ridden, too, but that did nothing to soothe her. "Aemilia, I'm so sorry, I don't know—"
"No," she interrupted, unable to look at him anymore. Floundering, she stuttered, "N-No, I just…I need some air." Of course, she was already outside, but Fandral knew what she meant and painfully watched her bolt away from him into the tavern.
As quickly as she could manage without raising too many questions, she bid all her friends goodnight and had Sif help her get Elida to the carriage. Thankfully, she did not see Fandral anywhere.
The carriage ride was both the shortest and the longest trip Aemilia had ever experienced. She was still in such a state of inner turmoil, her mind was occupied the entire way, but at the same time, she was desperate for the solitude of her chambers where she wouldn't have to bury any emotions for the sake of public eyes.
However, when they finally reached the palace, she realized that the still heavily intoxicated and barely conscious Elida was in no state to be sent home, so she brought the girl to her chambers.
She had hoped Gunnvarr would be there to help her, but it was with a pained sigh that she realized she had given the maid the night off.
Still holding everything she was currently feeling at bay, she got Elida into her bed, and the girl started lightly snoring the exact moment she hit the blankets. After she was settled, Aemilia got out of the room as fast as she could, since she couldn't find solitude in her own chambers.
Her mind was still racing from the kiss, and she blindly walked the halls—all the while twisting and turning the ring on her left hand—until she came upon a door. It was with dread that she realized where her feet had subconsciously taken her.
She hadn't been in there in months, which only worsened her guilt, but she took a pained breath and forced herself to go inside before she could talk herself out of it.
Tears immediately sprang to her eyes at the sight of everything, just where it was supposed to be, as if Loki was merely on a trip and expected to arrive any day now. The golden furniture, the shelves upon shelves of immaculate ancient books, the desk even littered with papers covered in his elegant script…Aemilia could barely take it.
As she passed the washroom, she couldn't help the horrible image of her miscarriage flash before her eyes. Loki had been so terrified of losing her, and he almost did. It was ironic how she had lost him instead.
Then her eyes fell onto his magnificent golden bed with the luxurious, silken, green sheets. So many memories. If Aemilia compiled all of her favorite, most cherished moments in her relatively short lifespan thus far, the vast majority of them all happened right there, in that bed.
She had been momentarily distracted for a short time, but eventually the very recent memory of her kiss with Fandral flashed through her mind. Her subsequent guilt came back full force, practically screaming at her in Loki's voice.
Not even a year I've been gone, and you're already moving on to another! Did I really mean so little to you?
She knew she was overreacting. She was young, it was actually expected of her to eventually move on. But she had loved Loki—and still did—with every fiber of her being, and he had made such a lasting impact on her, that the idea of even contemplating being with another seemed like she was dishonoring his memory.
Letting out a shaky breath that did nothing to ease her tormented mind, she laid down on the bed, desperate to be as close to Loki's memory as possible.
And perhaps she was crazy, but for a moment, she thought she had smelled his intoxicating scent still lingering on his pillow.
Loki was in a hurry. He was late for a meeting with the Elders, and as King during Odin's absence, his presence was mandatory.
He just had to stop by his chambers to retrieve a few documents he would be addressing in the meeting.
Upon arriving at his door, his hand hesitated to turn the handle. He swore he heard something inside. It couldn't have been Aemilia, since she had avoided him since he had revealed his Jotun origins.
He cocked his ear to the door only to reel back in bewilderment when he heard a muffled but very distinct moan. Who in all the Nine Realms would have the audacity to go into his chambers and—
He froze, his blood turning to ice as soon as he cracked the door open to see who the trespassers were.
Fandral was in his bed, hastily kissing down the neck of the woman beneath him as he thrust into her, deep and fast. Their moans filled the air along with the distinct smell of arousal.
Then, a delicate, creamy white leg hooked around his waist and used it as leverage to flip them over, and that's when he knew.
Aemilia sat atop Fandral like a goddess, her auburn waves brushing her lower back as she arched. He was still inside her, but she took her time, teasing him, pulling groans from his mouth with each deliberate roll of her hips as she planted her hands on his chest.
His hands were everywhere, her hips, her hair, her stomach, until he reached her perfect breasts to cup one in each hand. A low whine came from her lips as her head fell back and her eyes shut in ecstasy. Fandral's eyes were dark with blatant lust; he looked at her as if he was starving for her, like she was the only one that could cure his hunger.
Unable to tease any longer, Aemilia kissed him hard once more before slowly rising on his length only to quickly sink back down. Both of them loudly moaned at the sensation, and it set Aemilia to a desperate rhythm as she began to bounce on top of him, meeting his upward thrusts.
As they both desperately chased after their mutual releases, Fandral sat up without breaking their ever-increasing rhythm, and moaned into her ear, "Say it. Please, say it for me, Aemilia."
His mouth set her neck on fire with kisses as his right hand snaked in-between them, touching her, circling her.
Aemilia's moans reached new heights at the added contact, and she shakily gasped, "I love you, Fandral. I love you, I love you, I love you."
He kissed her again as she began to tense, hurtling towards oblivion. "Tell me that it was always me," he groaned, beginning to lose his self-control as well.
"It has always been you," she moaned, tears welling up in her eyes. "You, and you alone."
His arms wrapped around her like a vise and he rest his forehead on hers. Gazing deep into those green and brown, he whispered, "I love you, Aemilia."
And with a final gasp, she fell over the edge in waves, her entire body trembling and clenching, which made Fandral follow with a deep groan. They clutched at each other's sweat-soaked skin and never broke eye contact as they rode their aftershocks together.
Then, still connected, they collapsed in exhaustion onto the sheets together, her porcelain body sprawled over his, utterly limp. Fandral never let go of her, despite his still trembling limbs.
And Loki had seen and heard everything.
With a gasp and a jolt, Loki awoke from his vision for the last time. He had lost count how many times he had witnessed that scene days ago. The first time, he had woken in tears, desperate to shake the illusions from his mind. But as time went on, his denial of the Other's truth had turned into grieving betrayal. But from that, his betrayal had eventually morphed into something else.
When his eyes opened from that final vision, there was no reluctance, no doubt. They were cold, calculating, and vengeful.
And for the first time since his capture, the Other revealed himself to Loki, in all of his horrifying, grey, and cloaked visage. With a raspy, cracking growl, he uttered three words.
"You are ready."
Even though it had been the wee hours of the morning, Aemilia was eventually able to fall asleep, entangled in Loki's abandoned silken sheets. That had been her few hours of solitude, but as morning came, it was time for her to go back out into the world and take on life again. She still felt guilty about the night before, but her initial overreaction had definitely settled into acceptance.
She performed a glamour spell that immediately corrected her messy, fallen hair and changed her dress. Valhalla forbid that the nosy people in the castle think she spent the night with someone while on her way back to her chambers and a surely snoring Elida. As she opened the door to leave, she couldn't help but look back into the room for a few extra moments, though, trying to take in as much as possible. With a slightly burdened sigh, she slowly closed the door and headed to her own chambers.
When she neared her room and turned the last corner, she froze in her tracks.
Fandral was in front of her door, fidgeting and looking as if he couldn't decide whether to knock or not.
Well, this conversation is certainly happening sooner than expected, Aemilia reluctantly thought. Despite her slight panic from lack of preparation, she knew a talk between them was inevitable. With a determined straightening of her shoulders, she called out, "Fandral?"
The warrior nearly leapt out of his skin, clearly not expecting her appearance. His blonde head whipped around with a surprised expression etched into his features as he exclaimed, "Aemilia!"
"What are you doing outside my chambers?" she asked even though she already knew why. She walked up to him, but stopped with a generous five feet between them.
The man almost looked shy, casting his eyes down to the floor before slowly meeting her gaze. "I, uh, I just thought I might…check in on you. See how you were doing."
A tiny smile quirked at her lips, touched at how worried he was about her well-being. Not that she blamed him. Aemilia definitely had given off the impression that she was not fine after their kiss when she all but ran out of the festival crying. "I'm fine, thank you," she said genuinely. Fandral nearly breathed a sigh of relief.
But his relief was immediately replaced with worry as soon as she continued with a tentative, "Perhaps you would like to take a walk with me in the gardens? So we could talk?" Blue eyes wide, he merely nodded his consent, and then the two silently made their way to the gardens.
When they approached the Queen's roses, Aemilia was the one to break the silence, albeit pitifully. "So…"
It worked, though, because that prompted Fandral to air out his thoughts. "So…," he stopped walking and turned to directly face her, "I'm truly sorry, Aemilia. I had no right to make any advances of any kind towards you without your permission, and it was insensitive and cruel to subject you to any feelings of guilt or regret. I just—"
Aemilia held up her hand, indicating him to pause. He was obviously very conflicted about his actions, and she respected him all the more for his heartfelt apology, but she would not accept it.
"Fandral, you have nothing to apologize for."
"But I—"
"Yes, you did," she stated. "But I did, too. You did not force me into anything; everything I did last night was of my own volition." He stared at her, clearly not knowing what to say. "Know that I hold no ill will towards you."
Fandral's brows furrowed, puzzled. "But, afterwards, how you reacted, I thought that—"
"That was me realizing what I had just done and then feeling the subsequent guilt towards myself. Even though Loki is gone, I felt as if I had wronged him somehow," her voice wavered, and she looked down to the light colored pebbles that lined the pathway around her feet.
There was a long, poignant pause between the two of them, who were clearly unsure of what to say at this point. Thankfully, though, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Aemilia found great reassurance to know that their comfortable dynamic—despite this slightly uncomfortable topic—was still intact.
Fandral finally spoke, his voice soft, "You know, ever since the moment I met you, I had always thought you to be extraordinarily interesting, talented, and beautiful. I was compelled to be around you. However, I had never even considered you ever meaning more to me than just a very good friend once I realized you and Loki were with one another. Even if I had, I wouldn't have acted on it, because I would never had done that to Loki or put you in such a bad position." He took a moment to pause and she finally looked away from the ground to meet his eyes again. She had full faith that he meant every word he was saying. In fact, she'd never seen Fandral look quite so serious in all the time she'd known him.
With a breath he continued, "Even though I am still young, I feel as though I have lived a fairly long life, and even though I have made many accomplishments and experienced many things, I am now starting to realize that I have no one to really share them with. At the festival, I admitted to never being involved in a serious, committed relationship with another." She nodded in acknowledgement. "I would like to grow from my old ways and change that, and—even though what happened to Loki is unspeakable and I would change it all in a heartbeat for you if I could—I can't help but regard you as someone that I can see myself really committing to."
Aemilia was silent for a while after Fandral finished speaking, replaying his words over and over in her mind while also trying to determine how she felt in the matter. The thing was, she could completely understand and agree with what he was saying. They would make a successful, dynamic pair. They had a strong friendship that developed first to really ground them, they played off each other wonderfully, they knew each other very well (especially over the past few months), and they already cared for each other very deeply. And, yes, Aemilia would have to be blind to say Fandral wasn't extremely attractive.
If they were to take a chance, Aemilia had no doubt that they would eventually find love…but there was just one thing holding her back from that chance.
"I understand completely," she began, taking his hand. He watched her intently. "I, too, can see us making a very successful match, and I can't help but find the idea appealing." He quirked his lips a bit in a small smile but remained quiet. She returned his smile, but it slowly faded with her next statement, "But I'm not ready…and I cannot tell you in complete confidence that I will ever be ready." He nodded slightly in understanding, squeezing her hand in reassurance.
"Aemilia," he started, "I would be willing to wait for you, if you so desired. Of course, I won't wait forever, but I would wait long enough for you to make a decision on whether you wanted to go any further. And if not," he smiled warmly at her, "I would be happy to just be called your friend."
Aemilia couldn't help the wide smile from forming on her face. Fandral had just proven how dear of a friend he was, and she was so very grateful for him and his never failing support. Their conversation had ended up more positive than her most wild of dreams. And to think, the night before she had worried that their friendship could have been ruined. Now she felt utterly freed from her burdens from last night, because she knew that even if she never could take that leap and try something more with him, she was confident that she would still have her dearest friend by her side.
It was with great joy she realized that, one way or another, she was going to be okay.
eheh...eheh...ehehehehehehehe.
Sooooo that happened. :D
I gotta say, I'm sure some of you are going to want to murder us for the Fandral stuff, but...we're absolutely loving it. I mean, really. Who wouldn't want a Fandral by their side? And, you can't expect Aemilia to just lock herself in her room and wither away Bella Swan style for the rest of her very long (like 4,000 to 5,000 more years) life. We like strong female characters, hell yeah! *fist pumps*
Oh, and uhhhh (not) sorry for the Loki torture. We can't help it. :D
As you can tell, Team Damon and I both are pretty damn excited about the stuff to come, so let us know what you think with a review! *grabby hands*
And as always, thank you to the glorious Team Damon for her constant help and contribution to this chapter. Love you, babe. ;)
We look forward to hearing from you!
*Midnightwings96*