Well, helloooo again! A new update! Woo!
So, as it has become very clear in the reviews, pretty much everyone (aside from Team Damon and myself, clearly) hate our dear Lord Fandral. Now, let's think about this...you don't hate Fandral. You just...hate Fandral with Aemilia (Though, let's be honest with ourselves here, their relationship is actually very healthy and I would love to have a Fandral of my own. They just aren't Loki and Aemilia and I most definitely get that. But let's cool it with the Fandral hate, hmm?). If you love Fandral, I think you'll enjoy this chapter. If you love Loki even more (which I'm sure we all do), you'll really enjoy this chapter. My point is, don't skip anything in this chapter. I'm pretty sure this is one of the most eventful chapters to date with this story, and you're gonna want to be there for every step of the way, trust me.
HUGE NEVER-ENDING THANKS TO TEAM DAMON FOR BEING THE MOST WONDERFUL, ENCOURAGING, BEAUTIFUL BEACON OF LIGHT ANYONE COULD EVER ASK FOR. CAUSE HOT DANG THIS CHAPTER WAS A DOOZY TO GET WRITTEN. I'VE NEVER BEEN SO MENTALLY EXHAUSTED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.
Meanwhile, I'm going to put my hands in ice, because I just wrote 4k in one sitting and I never ever ever do that.
Drop us a review, if you like! We live off that stuff! Also, check out my tumblr if you'd like to chat with me about Ruin things, Marvel things, or just general things. take-me-tom-hiddleston :D
Anyway, here's the next chapter, and I hope you all enjoy! ~Midnightwings96
For a year, Heimdall had witnessed peace. Of course, there was always some sense of discord in the Nine Realms, but aside from a handful of minor disputes and the general – and fair – anger of the Jotuns as they rebuilt their icy fortress, all had been relatively quiet.
But like all things, that peace was destined to come to an end.
One calm night, Heimdall stood at his post, infinitely gazing into the universe from the jagged, fractured edges of the broken Rainbow Bridge. His golden sight flicked from world to world, Vanaheim to Svartalfheim to Alfheim and so on. His eyes went to Midgard, and at first glance all seemed quiet, so he moved on, but something stopped him.
Frowning slightly, he paused and turned back to Midgard with a focused gaze. The familiar, exhilarating power of the Tessaract drew him to its resting place, a remote holding facility in the United States. The cube was still in the hands of – so far - honorable Midgardians, one of which being Prince Thor's newfound companion Erik Selvig. Heimdall had watched him conduct harmless experiments on the power of the Tessaract over the past year, and it had remained stable, just as it had for the past 70 years.
But now, for reasons unknown, Heimdall could feel the fluctuating and unusual energy spikes emanating from the cube. It was clear that the Midgardians were not the source of this instability.
Concern etched into his expression when he realized that he could not see those responsible. That had not happened since…
The Tessaract flared, and the nearby humans slowly backed away as the cube erratically sparked with increasing strength. Then, with a huge, thundering noise, the Tessaract erupted into a bolt of blazing, electric blue light, leaving a flame-engulfed figure in its wake.
Heimdall's golden, all-seeing eyes widened when the flames dissipated.
Loki was alive.
As the months went by, Aemilia was busier than ever. Rehearsals for the opera had been consistently increasing as opening night inched closer and closer until there was a mere week left. This opera was proving to be one of the most difficult productions the young singer had ever experienced, in both technique and content.
Because it was a newly written show, she was unable to research upon her character as fully as she would have liked prior to her audition. The showrunners had only provided her with two arias and very vague context for them, and that was all she had to go off of.
After she landed the role, she finally had her hands on the full score and libretto, and was immediately struck with fear that she had made a terrible, terrible mistake.
Aemilia connected with her lead role almost painfully so. Obviously, because it was an opera tragedy, everything was incredibly dramatic and exaggerated. There were very clear and extreme differences between Aemilia's experiences and that of her character's, but the premise was so similar that it almost caused Aemilia physical pain. So much so that she was at first suspicious of the true reasons behind her being cast. After confronting Asmund about it – he was the only director she felt comfortable enough with to do so – and he assured her that was not the case in the slightest, Aemilia decided that this was just simply the worst coincidence in all of Asgard.
The setting takes place long ago, during the reign of Odin's father, Bor Borison, with Asgard on the brink of war with Svartalfheim. Aemilia's character, Helena, is a fiery, untamed, young noblewoman, stifled by what society expects her to be. She had just gone public, her parents actively searching for her future husband. One night, she accompanies some of her friends to a festival, where she meets a handsome, funny, charming, yet darkly alluring man named Eirik. He is the most interesting man she has ever met. They immediately are drawn to one another, and Helena is fascinated by tales of his wild adventures and all of the different cultures he had experienced during his life. He is the first man to ever push her to explore what the universe had to offer, and never accept to be normal in life.
That night, Helena beds him with no qualms over losing her virtue. And they both mutually decide to continue their affair, keeping it a secret from her family. All is happy, and they eventually declare their love to one another, only to immediately be met with tragedy.
Quite soon after that, King Bor declares war on the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim, and demands all able bodied men to fight with him. Being a highly skilled swordsman, Eirik has no choice but to go to war, leaving a desperate and terrified Helena with promises of undying love and his eventual return.
Unfortunately, Eirik cannot keep his promise, for he is declared Missing in Action after weeks of battle. The chances of his survival are impossible.
She silently mourns her lost love, unable to tell anyone of their affair, and a mere two weeks after Eirik's disappearance, Helena's parents arrange a marriage between her and a wealthy, middle-aged man of high upstanding named Halvar Kelbyson.
They are married before the month is out.
Halvar, who was amicable enough prior to their marriage, finds out that night that Helena is not a virgin. He tells no one of this, but rains the very fires of Hel down upon her. He abuses her in every despicable way that can be thought of and sends her into a deep, unstable depression. That abuse continues for two years, and with each degrading word and each night he took her against her will, a small piece of her once brilliant mind slips away.
One day in the market, however, during her only time of reprieve from Halvar, Helena sees a familiar figure in the distance. Upon further investigation, she discovers it to be her lost love, but he is not the man he once was. Her once lively and adventurous Erik was now mottled and disfigured, having lost an arm and acquiring extreme scarring and burn marks across his body. But beyond the physical mutilation, his mind was racked with extreme post-traumatic stress and nearly incapacitating depression and paranoia. Despite all of that, though, he still remembers his Helena, which inspires the most heart-wrenching duet Aemilia has ever had both the pleasure and torment of singing.
Helena and Eirik continue to meet in secret, but even though the lovers are reunited, there is no salvaging Eirik's mind. His condition worsens, and Helena decides that there is no way she can truly help him if she has to constantly leave him and go home to her monstrous husband. So, she seeks to ratify that.
But…divorce is simply out of the question, leaving only one option.
A few nights later, she plans to take Halvar's life. That evening, however, a messenger boy comes to her door with a letter. In horror, she realizes it's from Eirik, apologizing profusely for all the pain he's caused her. The letter explains how he tried and tried and tried to keep his promise of eternal love to her and heal from the wages of war, but he simply could not try any longer and that the call of death was simply too sweet to ignore.
He hanged himself before the messenger boy had a chance to even reach Helena's doorstep.
Thus is the beginning of what the cast had begun to call "Helena's Mad Scene." In an incredibly taxing aria, what is left of Helena's mind completely unravels, and she wreaks utter havoc. She fulfills her plan and brutally murders Halvar with a long and jagged dagger, spilling his crimson blood across the sheets where he sleeps and soaking her stark white nightgown. After Halvar expels his last, uneven breath, Helena collapses to her knees in a cacophony of despaired and insane wails of torment, screaming to Valhalla as to why such misfortune and misery had been thrust upon her. And in a horrifying declaration of how she can no longer breathe in a world where her only source of light and love had been put out, she plunges the dagger into her abdomen.
And then the curtain falls.
Needless to say, while Aemilia thoroughly enjoyed being in the theatre once more, she wasn't always in the best state of mind when she came home from a long rehearsal.
She was thankful she had Elida, Frigga, and Fandral to lean on. When she was with them, she felt okay. She felt happy. But, when she was alone at night, her dreams were racked with horrifying nightmares, the sound of Loki crying echoing through her skull with painfully vivid images of him falling into an eternal abyss. Ever since the first few weeks after Loki's death, she had been able to somewhat manage her nightmares. They were still incredibly potent, but occurred in a consistently decreasing quantity. But now, as the rehearsals became increasingly intense, and she delved further and further into the tortured soul of Helena, Aemilia feared that she was backtracking in her attempts to control her grief.
She put on a convincing show, though, because no one but Frigga had sensed something emotionally amiss with her, and that was only because they had to frequently be mentally linked during her magic training. The Queen showed concern, advising her to not take the role so seriously. However, Aemilia, a perfectionist if there ever was one, assured her that all would be fine. Aemilia had strong-armed the dam to her brewing instability closed, but given enough pressure, even the mightiest of dams can break.
Four months after she was given the part, during the theatre's first full rehearsal with the orchestra, Aemilia's dam shattered.
As she sang the final notes of the show and plunged the fake dagger into her abdomen, she was actually quite winded. That wasn't too abnormal, considering the nature of the song and the physicality involved, but a little voice nagged in the back of her head. Something was different.
At first, she ignored it, going backstage to wait for her cue for the curtain call. As her breath slowed, she realized how hard her heart was pounding. It wasn't moving fast, like the flutter of nervousness that she was accustomed to. It was just beating abnormally hard, like a fist was repeatedly pounding on her chest.
Concern and confusion etched into her features, but she quickly exchanged it for a scarily genuine, fake smile when she had to reappear on stage for her bows. She took the hands of the Eirik and Halvar actors and beamed into the imaginary audience, her heart still trying to stomp its way out of her chest. She tried to take a deep breath to calm her heart, but suddenly it felt as if her ribs couldn't expand any further. The amount of air she inhaled was alarmingly shallow, and the beginning flutters of panic blossomed through her. Her chest suddenly felt tight, like a large, booted foot was pressing down on her sternum. What is happening to me?
Meanwhile, Elida had been casually watching in the audience during her break. She had caught the tail-end of the last Act. Aemilia had been spell binding, tears shining down her face while her voice was still clear as a bell and incredibly deep with emotion. She looked very proud of herself as they went over the curtain call, but Elida saw the very moment that Aemilia's smile faltered during the bows. Her mouth was still shaped in a smile, but her eyes – previously shining and presumably happy – suddenly looked panic-stricken. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and eventually her lips downturned, her smile vanishing. As the actors left the stage, Elida saw Aemilia bolt towards her dressing room, and she immediately shot up out of her seat to follow.
Aemilia burst through her dressing room door, chest shallowly heaving and chills of full-blown panic continuously running up and down her spine. I can't breathe. I can't breathe! She frantically reached behind her to untie her too-tight corset strings, but when her fingers found nothing, she remembered she was still in the loose silk nightgown from the last scene. She could hear the heavy pounding of blood in her head with each labored heartbeat.
She fell into a chair, holding her head in her hands and desperately trying to take a full breath, but that only made it worse, and suddenly her hands started tingling. With a confused and muddled brain, she tried so hard to think. Asgardians didn't just fall ill like this. Then again, she was half-Vanir, and Aemilia was completely ignorant to possible diseases that Vanir could develop, if they could. The invisible boot pushed down harder on her chest as she frantically feared she may be dying.
"Aemilia? Aemilia!" With a nearly wheezing gasp, she whipped her head up to see a very concerned Elida, who had apparently been calling her name.
Despite her fearful expression, Elida's voice remained calm. "Aemilia, talk to me. What's wrong?"
"I – I can't breathe. I can't breathe." Her voice sounded foreign – too breathy – and muffled, like she was hearing herself talk through a wall. Or through the deafening beat of her heart.
Elida kneeled in front of her, gently resting a tiny hand on her knee. "What else? Come on, keep talking."
Hot tears suddenly started streaming down her cheeks as she started shaking. "My heart—it feels like it's about to burst from my chest, and my hands and feet are going numb! I—I don't know what's happening to me. I feel like I'm dying, oh my gods I can't breathe!"
"Aemilia, I need you to listen to me, okay?" Elida asked, placing her hands on her friend's cheeks, forcing the woman's tear and horror-filled eyes to focus on her. "Okay?" She nodded her head, a small sob escaping her lips.
"You're not dying. You're having an anxiety attack. Look at me. You are not dying."
What? "H-How can you know this?"
"Because, I've had them before. And I know. It starts with heart palpitations, then you can't take a full breath, then you start panicking, and then you start hyperventilating, and then you lose sensation in your hands and feet from lack of air. Trust me, I understand. So you need to listen and do what I say, okay?"
In between labored breaths, Aemilia nodded again.
Elida's big, steady blue eyes met Aemilia's and she said, "Repeat after me. I am not going to die." Another sob racked through her, the panic coursing through her veins overwhelming, threatening to take over her entire being. "Aemilia. Say it."
"I…am not going…to die."
"Say it again." Aemilia repeated it.
"I am going to be fine."
"I am strong."
"I can do this."
"I am fine."
"Inhale."
"Exhale."
Eventually, after what felt like years, Aemilia's breath slowed, and her heart eased along with it. Her hands stopped shaking, and the numbing, tingling sensation in her hands and feet disappeared. The boot finally, finally lifted. Tears still fell freely from her eyes, and when her body finally began to feel normal again, the aftermath of the trauma she just endured engulfed her with a vengeance.
Aemilia flung herself into the arms of Elida, unable to do or think of anything. All she could do for now, was cry.
After Aemilia's cries subsided, Elida insisted she go with her back to the palace, despite having another ballet class within the hour. Aemilia told her not to – for Elida would surely be scolded for missing class – but the tiny girl simply scoffed and said, "Our show isn't for another two months, and I'm the only one who can dance my part. What are they going to do? Dismiss me? Besides, I'll just tell someone I'm sick or something. My point is, I'm taking you home, and I'm not accepting no for an answer, alright?"
On their way back to the palace, the two women were walking arm in arm to Aemilia's suite when Thor turned the corner. Aemilia automatically smiled – she hadn't seen much of Thor lately, and she dearly missed him – and called out to him. He looked over to them, and Aemilia immediately saw how serious his features were. His blonde brows were furrowed into a deep frown, and his crystal blue eyes were cloudy with obvious concern.
The Prince attempted to school his features, but it was ultimately an ill attempt that Aemilia saw straight through. "Lady Aemilia, Elida! I wish I could stay and talk, but I must be on my way."
With huge strides, he went to pass them, but Aemilia caught his arm at the last minute. "Thor, is everything okay?"
He turned back to look at her, and his expression had settled into a much more believable neutrality, but she still could see worry simmering in his gaze. "Yes, everything is fine. There is simply a matter I must attend to in another realm. My father has just dismissed me. I'm afraid time is of the essence. My apologies, my ladies." And with that, he continued to storm down the hallway. Aemilia thought his countenance was rather…concerning, but Thor was a busy man, protector of all the realms. Except…the Bifrost was still broken. Aemilia did not know how he would travel to another realm without its aid, but she was definitely not an expert on the matter. He was surely very experienced with what was going on, and he would return with no issue.
After their encounter with Thor, the two women arrived at Aemilia's suite and were shoulders-deep in steaming hot water within the hour. Immediately upon their arrival, Elida had taken it upon herself to ask Gunvarr if she would draw Aemilia a bath to wipe away the day's weariness. After one look at her Lady's still-downturned face, the handmaiden quickly agreed and got to work, adding expensive, scented oils and salts intended to rejuvenate and relax.
The tub in Aemilia's washroom was extravagantly oversized, to where two – possibly three – people could comfortably wash at the same time. Aemilia was quick to extend the invitation to Elida, since she could tell the younger woman was not yet comfortable with the idea of leaving her alone. She wasn't too keen on the idea herself, to be honest. Aemilia hadn't taken a bath with another woman in at least a couple decades, but if Elida had no qualms, neither did she.
As the two women sat in the tub, Aemilia relished in all the steam and various scents floating about her. She still felt emotionally anxious from the day's events, but she was beyond relieved that the physical symptoms had dissipated for the time being. They sat in silence until Aemilia couldn't help but ask, "Elida, do not feel obligated to answer if you feel it too personal, but why do you have experience with what I have endured today?"
Elida, who was resting her head against the curved edge of the tub with her eyes shut, looked at her with a twinge in sadness in her eyes. "No, it's fine. Feel free to ask me anything." She took a calming breath. "My father died about 10 years ago. We were very very close, and I mourned him for a very long time. During which, I began experiencing all the things you did today. I have learned ways to keep it at bay over the years, but I still am challenged with it every now and then. It comes and goes."
Elida had never mentioned her father before, unlike stories she had of her mother and younger brother, so Aemilia had assumed that something along those lines had occurred. "I'm sorry," she replied, genuinely understanding her loss and subsequent challenges with grief. Valhalla, she understood.
Elida gave her friend a small smile in acknowledgement. "Thank you."
A few minutes of silence passed until Aemilia asked another question. "I vaguely remember reading of anxiety and the physical reactions to it many years ago, but that is all I've ever heard of it. When I couldn't take a full breath, I feared that something was deathly wrong with me…I've never felt anything like it before," her voice got quiet, her mind vividly remembering the panic and terror that nearly blinded her.
Elida nodded, a slightly irritated look overtaking her pixie-like features. "No, the average Asgardian is pretty much blissfully unaware of all mental illnesses, unfortunately. When I began experiencing regular attacks – by regular, I mean at least one every other day – no one in my family knew how to help me. Our family doctor brushed me off, saying I was in perfect physical condition, and told my mother I was probably just making excuses to get out of housework." She spread her arms on the edge of the tub and said with a snide tone, "Apparently, if you haven't been cut during a duel, lost an arm, or been impaled by a bilgesnipe, nothing could be wrong with you. Thankfully, my mother knew I would never make something like that up, but ultimately, I had to figure out my own remedies. You learn to manage it with time."
"But, if I were to develop a condition like you did, why wouldn't it have started a year ago when Loki died? Why is it only happening now?" Aemilia had been so sure she was getting better, and this was a bigger setback than she could have ever anticipated.
"I'm not totally sure. But…I have to be honest, Aemilia. You're so busy, you barely ever have time to breathe. You jump from training with Frigga to training with Fandral to rehearsing a, quite frankly, a genius but incredibly depressing show, without any chance to relax and just enjoy life. You reached your limit today."
"I…I know the show is heavy, and immersing myself in that role has definitely been challenging, but…at the same time, I've been so happy to be back at the theatre. And I have been taking time to just have some fun! Fandral has helped me a lot with that. We always have a wonderful time, and I love spending time with you, too. I feel like, while this show has been difficult, I've also been the most happy I've been since Loki's passing," she replied, completely bewildered of her circumstances.
Elida gazed at her empathetically and said, "Sometimes I will be having a marvelous time, and I will suddenly start to feel anxious for absolutely no reason at all. There is really no concrete answer or solution, but rest assured, I will help you in any possible way I can. Perhaps you should speak with Queen Frigga of this as well; she might have some herbal remedies or potions that could help. Also, a good bout of exercise always helps. I'm sure Fandral would be happy to oblige."
Aemilia quirked an eyebrow at that, and the blonde woman immediately realized what she said and added with a look of horror and a bright pink blush, "Not like that! I mean, with the sparring and such. Of course….the other way also certainly helps, but, not that—I mean, uh, you know what I mean."
Aemilia laughed for the first time that day, thoroughly amused by her friend's, frankly, adorable babbling. "It's okay! I understand what you mean." She still had a light ping tinge to her cheeks as she looked at Aemilia like she was about to ask something but chose against it. "Elida…you know I can read you like a book. What is it?"
She readjusted herself, sloshing the water around a bit, and stammered, "Well, uh, I was just wondering, if – forgive me if this is too forward – if…you and Fandral have, uh…been—"
"Intimate?" Aemilia guessed with a smirk and amused glint in her eye, enjoying watching Elida squirm.
Elida's big blue eyes flew up to hers, her blush back full force, and then muttered, "Well, ehrm…well, yes."
"Elida, we have been very close for a good while now. I should think you could ask me things of this nature without fear of me being offended."
"I'm sorry!" she squealed, "You know how I am with things like…that. I'm awkward! I know! Now, tell me before I spontaneously combust!"
Aemilia chuckled before answering, "No. Fandral and I have not been intimate. I told him from the very beginning that I wanted to take things slow, and thankfully he agreed. These past few months have been wonderful, but…no. We haven't taken that step yet."
"Oh…well, have you two done…anything?"
The corners of Aemilia's lips turned upwards, threatening to bloom into a full-fledged grin. "He…we may have passionately kissed against my doorway a few times when he escorts me back."
Elida's eyes went wide and she actually squeaked. "Oh gods, you can't just say something like that and not elaborate! You must give me details! Is he a good kisser?"
Aemilia looked at her. "Elida, did you ever think for one moment that Fandral wouldn't be a good kisser?"
"…Okay, you're right, I'm sure he's amazing."
"Indeed. He is quite…proficient, to say the least."
The two women continued to good naturedly talk back and forth until the water eventually ran cold, and Aemilia felt so relieved to have a friend such as Elida to lean on. She was incredibly lucky to have the ever supportive people in her life such as Frigga, Fandral, her Father, and normally – though not as of late, reasons unknown to Aemilia – Thor, but having a female friend near her age was something she never knew she really needed until she found the bubbly, bumbling, and impossibly charming dancer.
Once Elida had put on a fresh dress and Aemilia was comfortable in her favorite floor-length, ivory satin and lace dressing gown, the two of them embraced warmly before Elida departed. Aemilia, with appreciative tears in her eyes, thanked her multiple times for her help and support. Elida had certainly lightened her mood. Unfortunately, though, she would still occasionally feel a fluttering-type heart beat or her chest would be a bit tight, and the whispering of panic would immediately trickle down her back. Aemilia felt herself constantly trying to calm herself back down. She would succeed, and then it would eventually return.
She almost asked her friend to stay with her through the night, but talked herself out of it. When Elida's blonde head disappeared down the hallway, dread once again settled in Aemilia's heart. She was used to being at her lowest while she was alone, but now…she felt fear. Fear of panic overtaking her again and she be left to endure on her own.
About an hour passed, and Aemilia buried herself in Loki's book of spells and potions, desperate to keep her mind on something other than her anxiety. She twiddled with her ring around her neck as she read through the script. As she was looking through the ingredients of a temporary potion to alleviate all pain without muddling the senses, a light tap came from the door. Aemilia thought curiously. It was fairly late, and she wasn't expecting anyone…who could it be?
She stood, adjusting her robe, and quickly looked in the mirror to make sure she looked…well, emotionally sound. When everything was in order, she opened the door to see Fandral on the other side.
He looked thoroughly awake and positively chipper, dressed in a thin white tunic, brown leather pants, and boots. In his hands was a tray of various desserts and a big bottle of wine.
"Fandral?" she asked, confused. "What are you doing here? What's going on?"
He smiled brightly and answered, "Well, about an hour ago, I was walking towards your room to pick you up for the little outing we planned last week…" Oh, Valhalla, she had completely forgotten about that! They were supposed to go out dancing in a nearby village, and it totally slipped her mind amongst the chaos of her day.
"I'm so sorry, Fandral! I completely forgot. Today was…difficult."
He smiled warmly at her, not offended in the slightest. "It is quite alright. As I was saying, when I was on my way to your suite, I encountered little Elida. She told me that your rehearsal today was quite taxing, and that you wouldn't want to go out this evening." He paused before he interjected with an affectionate little smirk, "She is quite the curious, fiery little nymph, isn't she? I daresay she threatened to cut my manhood off if I upset you this evening! And then, once she realized she had apparently said that out loud to me, she flushed a vibrant shade of pink and started babbling in an attempt to cushion her previous statement. Once she determined she couldn't climb out of the hole she had been digging deeper and deeper, she simply said 'I'm going to stop talking now. It was lovely speaking with you, Lord Fandral, and good night,' and then bolted so quickly she practically evaporated into thin air!"
Aemilia already felt less frantic, just by merely basking in Fandral's presence. She laughed a bit at his tale of Elida, not surprised of their exchange one bit.
Fandral picked up where he left off, "Anyway, since Elida said you felt a bit unwell, I thought I might surprise you with a few desserts and a divine bottle of wine."
A surprised smile bloomed on Aemilia's face, never expecting this. "Fandral, you shouldn't have!"
He scoffed. "Of course I should! Now, if you would rather simply retire to bed, I can be on my way, but I would much rather drink this wine with you over Hogun. He's never one for thrilling conversation, as you know."
She chuckled, almost giggly at this lovely surprise. "Of course! Please, come in. I could definitely use a glass of wine. Or two."
Fandral wagged his eyebrows, "Or three. I promise I won't tell if you won't."
Aemilia grinned widely. "…Deal."
By the time Aemilia reached her third glass of wine, she was pretty happily buzzed. She hadn't eaten dinner, so the drink hit her harder than she had expected. Before she knew it, she was giggling at every single thing that left Fandral's mouth, whether it be intentionally funny or not. Her skin had a lovely flush to it, and she had been consistently smiling for the past hour. After the day she had, feeling like a normal person having a few drinks felt nearly euphoric.
The two of them had eaten the desserts to their hearts' content, and after that, Fandral had requested that Aemilia show him all the new spells and illusions that Frigga was teaching her. She was quick to oblige, lighting every candle in her room ablaze with a flick of her hands and conjuring images of flowers and small animals. In her inebriated state, she tried to cast an illusion of Volstagg, but failed miserably. She simply couldn't concentrate enough, and the illusion was hilariously distorted. Fandral had found that particularly hilarious, and he laughed so hard that he fell out of his chair, which sent Aemilia to her knees with laughter that wouldn't cease until her abdomen stung from the exertion.
They talked continuously until the early hours of the morning and the effect of the wine had dimmed. Eventually, once the conversation had lightened, they ended up casually lying on her bed, staring up at a rather impressive illusion of a tiny, bright blue bird, flying back and forth across the ceiling and occasionally chirping and settling to land on a book shelf or a chair. Aemilia's hand glowed bright green as she guided the bird from destination to destination.
Fandral quickly found his gaze leaving the bird to look at the woman next to him. Her focus was sharp on the bird, unaware of his eyes on her. She was truly beautiful. Her hair was completely down from its usual braids, falling in a shining, auburn halo of curls on her pillow. Her face was free of any and all makeup, clean and clear and pale, and the elegant satin and lace of her robe fell about her in almost ethereal billows of fabric, cinched in tight at her slim waist.
His eyes went back to her face. He wasn't daft. He knew something had happened earlier in the day. Despite her laughter, he could tell there was something wrong. In their few moments of silence, he could almost see an aura of sadness around her. Of course Fandral wanted to know what had exactly occurred, but…he refused to press her for information. Elida had clearly been the one she had confided in, and that was fine with him. He simply just wanted her to feel better.
"You are truly an amazing woman. An absolute wonder."
The bird quickly vanished. Aemilia's eyes widened a bit before she turned her head to look at Fandral. He was looking at her in a way that took her breath away and made her heart flutter…but for the first time that day, it was in a good way.
She didn't really know what to say, surprised at his staggeringly sincere words. She turned on her side to face him, and their eye contact never faltered. He looked absolutely lovely in the dim candlelight of her bedroom, his blonde hair perfectly tousled and the blue of his eyes absolutely sparkling.
He eventually followed her lead, rolling over to his side. Their bodies were only a few inches apart, and there was a pleasant, enthralling electricity that was passing between them. She suddenly felt his hand gently grasp hers, and she looked down to watch their fingers entwine, hers smooth against his calloused from centuries of wielding a sword. His touch was incredibly comforting to her still-anxious mind, and she relished in the sense of serenity.
When she looked back up to him, their faces were mere centimeters apart, and her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected closeness. She could smell the wine on his breath and the subtle, but very nice cologne he always wore. His eyes dropped down to her slightly parted lips for a split second before meeting hers again, his pupils blown wide.
He was clearly searching her gaze for permission, but Aemilia beat him to it. She leaned in and firmly pressed her lips to his. She poured all of her gratitude and fondness of him into that kiss, wanting him to know how much she appreciated his never-ending support, especially after today. He quickly responded, tightening his grip around her hand and slowly moving his lips against hers.
If the feel of his hand in hers gave her a sense of comfort, then his kiss almost wiped her mind completely clear of anxiousness and fear, and she wanted more. Aemilia deepened the kiss and placed his hand on her waist, where his grip immediately tightened, and parted her lips to allow his tongue entrance to her mouth. He truly was a fantastic kisser, and she relished in all the pleasant sensations that came with it.
His hand slid from her waist to her back, the slip and slide of her robe cool to his touch, and he pulled her body flush with his. Her fingers ran up his arm into his blonde waves, and she wrapped one leg around his hip, pushing him even closer. Fandral let out a breathy groan, pulling away from her lips to press hot, open-mouthed kisses onto her neck.
Aemilia felt her eyes slide shut, enamored in the little rushes of pleasure that came from every kiss and nip of his teeth. His gentle but needy contact continued to slowly distract her from the torment in her mind, and she reveled in it.
She relinquished her grip on his hair to push him to his back. He watched with dark, lust-filled eyes as she quickly straddled him. Fandral couldn't help but stare at her, hair wild, plump lips parted, breasts just barely contained in her robe. Valhalla, the very visage of her was enough to drive him absolutely mad. He ran his hands up her legs, the curve of hips, the sides of her heaving breasts, and further up to delicately cup her face. He pulled her down to kiss him once more, savoring in the feeling of her long, lithe, strong body stretched across his own. He could feel her barely concealed breasts pressing and rubbing against his chest as she kissed him, and he desperately yearned to feel her without the barriers of clothing. His fingers itched to take control, to flip them over and bring her to a mighty end with his hand and mouth, but he refrained. Four months prior, she had said she wanted to go slowly, so he would let her take the lead and do what she needed and was comfortable with. It wasn't overly difficult for Fandral to let her take control, anyway, for the view was truly extraordinary.
He was kissing his way down her jaw when he finally put his hands on her breasts through the satin of her gown, and they filled his hands so perfectly he groaned. She let out a shaky breath and leaned into his touch, gripping the thin fabric of his shirt like a vise. Her nipples hardened under his touch, and the coolness of the satin sent unexpected jolts of pleasure through her, sending quiet whimpers from her mouth.
Needing to feel his skin, she pulled him upright to tug off his shirt and he relinquished her just long enough to get the fabric up and off and onto the floor. Fandral's broad chest was quite the sight to behold: tan, taut skin across firm muscles that begged to be touched. She shamelessly ran her hands over his torso, tracing every dip and curve before sliding back up to his shoulders. He smiled a little at that, and when he caught her staring, an endearing little blush appeared on her cheeks along with a tiny smile of her own.
Their lips met again as Fandral slowly pulled her robe off one shoulder, exposing one perfectly full breast. He lightly teased her as he placed kisses down her neck and onto her collarbone. Aemilia's breath was coming quickly now, so worked up it was bewildering. When his mouth eventually replaced his hand, she let out her first real moan of the night.
The glorious sound echoed in Fandral's ears, making his pants increasingly tight. He strived to get more noises out of her, so he pushed the satin of the other shoulder down and set his mouth to her again. She ached terribly, and she couldn't help but to grind down on top of him, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal directly under her. The action caused them both to let out surprised noises of need.
One hand still on one of her breasts, he slowly snaked his other hand down her waist and over her thigh, slowly inching closer to where she was trembling for him. He had no desire to tease her, so, when she gave him a quick nod, he wasted no time brushing two fingers against her arousal. A moan flew from her mouth as soon as he made contact, and he buried his face into her neck and deeply groaned, "Valhalla, you're so wet."
He looked up to see her eyes shut tight with her head thrown back, bottom lip clenched between her teeth as she moved against his hand, seeking her own pleasure. He slowly circled her a few times before pushing one finger inside her, and she released a long moan that nearly made Fandral come right then. Every time she made a sound, it somehow heightened his own pleasure, as if, in addition to his own, he could feel what she was experiencing. He eventually added a second finger, curling them from within, brushing up against a spot that made her see stars. She was impossibly tight with only two of his fingers, clenching around him.
Aemilia furiously kissed him, whimpering every time she thrust down to meet his hand, and eventually she was riding his hand as she straddled him, her strong legs moving her up and down with ease.
Her voice started raising in pitch as she went faster, and Fandral watched with bated breath as she edged closer and closer to her end. But, just when he thought she was about to reach her peak, she reached down and pulled his fingers from her, whining as they exited her body.
He looked at her, confused as to why stopped, but before he could question her, she placed his hands back on her breasts and her lips flew to his in a bewildering, breathless kiss. Then, she ground down hard on top of him, ripping a moan from deep in his throat, and she quickly echoed him.
She quickly found the most perfect angle of her hips and quickly took advantage of it, the fast circling of her hips driving them both nearly blind with desire. Fandral was reeling at how he was reacting so strongly to her touch when he was contained in the tight confines of his pants, but with each otherworldly noise that exited her mouth, the less he questioned it and the more he started to feel.
Aemilia picked up speed, deliciously rubbing against him with a fury, each time edging closer and closer, and Fandral quickly found himself on the precipice with her. Their loud, careless moans filled the room more and more as they kept moving. They both felt the beginning of the end coil deep within them. Fandral tightly wrapped one arm around her, his free hand tightly gripped her hip, and he buried his face into her neck, his breath picking up speed.
Her cries suddenly raised in pitch and her nails dug deep into the skin of his back. Light exploded behind their eyes as they raced for their end, and with a loud noise of euphoria, Aemilia reached her release. The glorious sound that perforated the room as she rode wave after wave is what send Fandral over the edge with a groan, trembling in each other's arms.
They rode out the lingering aftershocks for what felt like hours until they finally began to catch their breath.
Cheek rested on her still heaving breasts, Fandral breathed with a soft chuckle, "That was…unexpected."
Aemilia lightly giggled in agreement, her body feeling looser than it had in…a very long time. Her mind was still buzzing with the euphoria of her release, making her feel incredibly light. With a gentle smile, she raised Fandral's head to look up at her. His warm blue eyes met hers, and she leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips, her fingers threading through his hair.
They stayed like that for a long time, just enjoying the experience of languidly exploring each other's mouths.
Eventually, though, when Fandral's arms tightened around her, Aemilia felt that same little spark of fire ignite once more. The kiss slowly grew more heated, and it only broke when they could go no longer continue without time to breathe. His lips quickly dropped to the underside of her jaw, peppering tiny kisses down her neck and to her collarbone.
He reached a spot on her neck that slightly tickled as his teeth grazed it, and she giggled, squirming away. He looked up at her affectionately with an amused, slightly wolfish grin, and suddenly flipped them over. She squealed in surprise as her head hit the pillow, and he watched in adoration as her little peal of laughter filled the air.
Fandral returned his lips to her neck and – after teasing that little spot once more – continued his journey down her body. Her robe was miraculously still on, but was impossibly twisted around her waist and tangled between her legs. One breast was still exposed to the air, however, and he couldn't help but halt his journey to take his time working her into a squirming mess.
Eventually he continued on, and his strong hands squeezed her hips as he reached her aching center, but he surpassed it. His fingers gently trailed down the silky smooth, pale skin of her left leg. Sitting upright, he admired the long, leanly muscular limb, completely unblemished aside from a few fading bruises from their training session the previous afternoon. He gripped her ankle and slowly pulled the leg to rest on his right shoulder. Fandral began trailing his lips and teeth up her leg, his destination clear.
Aemilia sighed, sinking deeper and deeper into the fluffy pillows beneath her. Her eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the light caress of his lips on her leg. When he eventually made his way over her knee, though, she could sense a faint, distant voice in the back of her head, but she couldn't decipher what it was saying. As he travelled upwards, the sensations grew painfully familiar, and Aemilia's brows furrowed as the voice grew louder.
Her heart picked up speed, and she swallowed hard, trying to shove everything down and to focus on Fandral, whose attention was zeroed in on her leg, blissfully unaware of what was happening. He continued his slow travel upwards. The voice screamed at her, but it was still indecipherable. She was so bewildered, torn between the sudden torment in her mind and the suddenly overwhelmingly familiar and intoxicating sensations that she was experiencing. The higher he went, the more breathless she became. Each kiss felt like a shot of electricity up her leg, and she hadn't felt anything like that since…since….
Fandral ceased his kisses, his hand clamped hard down on her leg, and firmly bit down high up on her inner thigh.
Aemilia could no longer hold back the floodgates in her mind, and suddenly she was transported back to what felt like a millennia ago. The grip on her thigh was tighter and cooler to the touch, with long, elegant fingers splayed across her skin. The bite was stronger, rougher, yet meticulously placed and immediately followed by a feather light kiss from thinner lips, absent of the light tickle of facial hair. The hair tangled in her fingers was no longer blonde, but black as the darkest night and smooth as silk. When the man slowly raised his head, vibrant, striking green eyes met her gaze accompanied with a devilish, mischievous grin.
When he spoke, his voice was deep, dark, and gravelly with desire. His gaze looking into her very soul, he lowly taunted, "Oh, Little One….look how far you've fallen."
With a gasped, "Stop! Stop!" that ripped through her entire body, the vision of her lost lover evaporated, leaving an alarmed looking Fandral in its wake.
"Aemilia?" he asked, but she pushed him off of her. He immediately moved, pulling his hands away as if he had physically burned her.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and the ring around her neck felt so heavy that it kept her ribs from expanding. Oh, gods, not this. Anxiety engulfed her entire body for the second time that day, and she struggled to push back the oncoming flood of tears. The image of Loki wracked her brain…his touch...his voice... Gods she knew that voice better than her own, and now her anxiety was using it to torture her.
And now the man that had been impossibly gentle and caring for her was watching her melt down in an alarmed horror, completely unequipped to know what to do to help.
She desperately tried to think back to earlier in the day and how Elida had coached her through it. Loki's voice still echoed in her head, but desperate to gain control of her body once more, she tried to drown it with her own thoughts. I am going to be fine. I am strong. I can do this. I am fine. Breathe.
With time, Loki's voice dimmed, and her heart calmed once more. She could breathe again.
A heavy exhaustion settled over her, but she welcomed that over panic any day. Sniffling and wiping at her eyes, she looked up to see Fandral knelt in front of her, blue eyes panicked and concerned.
…She didn't know what to say. How to explain. "I…I'm sorry, I…I can't—"
"Hey," he gently breathed, obviously relieved to see her better, "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything to me." Fandral wasn't sure what he had just witnessed, but he feared he had spurred it on, pushed her too far. "Did…Did I? Did I do anything to…?"
Her eyes widened in fright. "No! No, you didn't do anything. You've been perfect and so caring and patient and I—I'm so sorry."
He frowned slightly, hating how much she was blaming herself for what had happened. Grasping her hand gently, he said, "Don't apologize, Aemilia. This isn't your fault, okay? Please don't apologize to me."
Fandral paused, unsure of how to proceed. "Do…do you want me to leave?"
His question immediately sent a thrill of panic down her back. "No! Please don't leave me." She gripped his hand tighter, petrified of being left alone. "Could you…could you stay?"
"Of course," he replied, placing a tender kiss to the back of her hand, and relief spread through Aemilia's body.
That night, Fandral did not leave her side for a moment, and as Aemilia gave into the exhaustion, Fandral tenderly pushed a fallen strand of auburn hair behind her ear and followed her into slumber. Their hands remained entwined the entire night and late into the next morning.
"Will you not speak with me, Loki? Explain to me what is going on. What happened to you?"
"I have nothing to say that is worth the breath, Thor."
In all of his many years, Thor had experienced a great deal. He had visited realms beyond the comprehension of mortal man. He knew the thrill and rush of mighty power, only to have it stripped from him. He knew the sweet relief and gratitude he felt when that power was returned to him, a new man. He knew the rush of battle. And he knew the powerful love that could only exist amongst family.
But above all – and only recently, he discovered what it felt to experience true loss.
Despite the guilt he had for treating Loki with such frivolity and utter ignorance throughout their lives, Thor never doubted his deep love for his brother. He had been shocked when he was told of Loki's true parentage – it certainly put a lot of Loki's rash decisions into perspective – but the truth being revealed did not make Thor falter in the slightest. Genetics or not, Loki was his brother, through and through.
Upon Loki's death, Thor grieved. Valhalla, he grieved, wanting nothing more than to have his little brother at his side once more, talking him down from a preposterous plan or interjecting a snide remark that always managed to make Thor laugh.
When his mother returned with news over Loki's impossible survival, for the first time in months, Thor felt hope. One day, he would see his brother again, and they would be reunited.
He never expected their reunion would be like this.
They currently sat in the aircraft sent to take Loki to a supposedly secure holding facility. After the man with the colorful shield defused his quarrel with the man of metal, they rallied a still handcuffed Loki back into the aircraft. They had been in the air for fifteen painfully silent minutes.
Everyone had the better sense to leave Thor alone with his brother while they could. Loki sat silently across from him, refusing to let his steely gaze raise from the floor.
Loki's previous, nonsensical words rattled Thor's brain. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king! He didn't understand them. It simply didn't make any sense. Frigga had feared what Loki had endured had infected his mind and concept of reality, but Thor never expected this.
Desperate to get something out of his brother, Thor asked, "Do you truly not believe me when I say we mourned for you, Loki?"
Loki continued to stare at the floor for a very long time before his biting green glare slid up to meet Thor's wide, sad eyes. "Why would you mourn for me? I know you secretly desired for my removal. All of you did. You, Sif, Odin—"
"Mother? Would you slander our Mother's name for your false illusions?
Loki's eyes flashed at the word false, but then they softened in remembrance of Frigga. His memory of the gentle woman was the only untainted, pure thing left in his mind, and in all truth, he longed to see her again. However, despite his softness for his Mother—not in blood, but still certainly in bond, he refused to answer Thor.
"…And what of Lady Aemilia?"
Thor watched as Loki visibly stiffened, every muscle in his body taut and strained. His gaze widened in surprise before suddenly narrowing into alarmingly murderous slits, his mouth downturned in an ugly grimace. Before Thor could even contemplate why in all the Nine Realms Loki would react in such a way towards the mention of his past beloved, Loki sneered with a chilling growl, "We all know that lying, traitorous whore was the happiest of all for my 'death', all so she could be with her precious, heroic Fandral and whoever else she might fancy enough to open her legs for."
Thor reeled in surprised horror. Loki's delusions were even worse than he had thought. Thor had a front row seat in witnessing his little brother fall in love with Aemilia before Loki knew of it himself. It was obvious to almost anyone that he loved that young woman almost more than life itself, and for him to suddenly feel such animosity and hatred for her was...disturbing.
"Loki," Thor started, leaning forward in his seat, almost pleading with him, "You couldn't be more wrong."
Loki quirked an eyebrow in a humorless smirk. "Oh? Do explain," he stated, mocking sarcasm dripping from each syllable, "I suppose she cried for weeks, withdrew from her loved ones, found it difficult to open that pretty little mouth to sing while learning to endure my absence."
"Yes, she did," Thor said gravely.
Loki's eyes widened fractionally before settling back into his typical unreadable expression, but that fraction was big enough for Thor to notice how surprised he was. Loki said nothing, so he took that as an opportunity to explain further. "After you fell, I had to physically hold Aemilia back from falling after you. She was blind with tears and seething with rage that she directed at Father. She blamed him for your demise, and in her fury, she almost unknowingly broke the bridge further with her magic. Frigga had to sedate her to make her stop."
Loki's face remained passive, but his eyes were intently trained on Thor, his hands clenching in a tight, unrelenting grip.
Thor's eyes fell to the floor for a moment, terrible memories flashing through his head. Eventually, he took a deep breath and continued. "Father, Mother, Aemilia, and I held a private funeral for you."
Loki felt his guarded expression begin to crack. As Thor continued to retell such a conflicting story of what Loki knew, a deep, unsettling confusion began to blossom deep in his mind. None of this made sense. Nothing adds up.
"We filled an empty boat with various items in remembrance of you, and as it sailed off, Aemilia quietly sang a lullaby I've never heard of. It was quite beautiful, haunting—"
Loki shut his eyes tightly as he suddenly recalled a lilting memory. It was distant, familiar but also unfamiliar, but undeniably warm. His head, lying atop Aemilia's breast, their skin slick with a light sheen of sweat from their love making.
Silence all your lonely cries
Sleep until your tears are dry
Darling, you'll find peace in time
As I sing this lullaby
A clear, bell-like voice rang through his head, the lyrics serving as both comfort and torture, for he couldn't make sense of anything. He was just so confused.
And our love through darkness
Don't forget to keep believing
With love forlorn
In love we'll find our way
My love
Love and hatred battled in his exhausted mind, for he remembered loving her. By Odin, he loved her more than anything. But…he also remembered her betraying him, torturing him, ripping his heart out and playing with it as she told him lies and secretly met with another man. Why would she mourn as she did if she never loved him?
Thor's downhearted voice pulled him from his fragmented thoughts, "Only in these past few months has she returned to the theatre and begun to act like herself, but there's still a…darkness in her eyes that I fear will never leave. It's a sadness that I've seen in Mother's eyes, and in the mirror." Thor decided it best to not mention Aemilia furthering her magic lessons with Frigga, beginning combat training, and her brand new courtship with Fandral. Thor knew not how Loki could possibly know of it, for it only had begun a month prior, but he figured it would be better to leave that unsaid for now.
Thor watched as Loki's walls fell, his eyes open and wide as he fell deep inside his own mind, questioning reality. Thor took his image in, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the unnaturally blue glow of his irises and his leaner frame. Loki had always been slimmer and more lithe than Thor, but now he looked almost sick, his skin paler, his face almost gaunt.
Thor's heart yearned for the past, when things had been simpler, before his own idiocy and Loki's jealousy had infected and tainted their relationship. Before Loki questioned anyone and everyone's love for him. Back when Loki and Aemilia were happy and free to love each other. Before Loki lost himself in his true heritage and feared himself as a monster.
Thor prayed harder than he ever had that Loki would return to him and his loved ones once again, and he would try his damnedest to ensure it.
But for now, he and his new partners had to learn Loki's plan for Midgard.
The next day, Fandral reluctantly left Aemilia with a soft and chaste kiss, leaving her to meet with the Queen for another lesson. His departure sent a few pangs of fear to her heart, but knowledge of her upcoming schedule that day helped to distract herself. She was thankful to have a break from the opera for the day, and she looked forward to expelling some pent up energy with the help of magic. She also hoped to speak with Frigga about her recent development of anxiety. If anyone had an effective herbal remedy, it would be her.
Once she made her way to the Queen's chambers, she told the guard on duty to let her know of her presence.
The guard, monotone, stated, "Her Majesty is not to be disturbed."
Aemilia paused; certainly this guard was aware of who she was. It was no secret of Asgard that she and the Queen were close. "I've already spoken with Her Majesty. Perhaps there has been a miscommunication to you, but I am scheduled to meet with her."
"I apologize, My Lady, but the Queen's orders were very clear."
…Certainly something was awry. If Frigga was to cancel, she definitely would have told Aemilia beforehand. "I will not leave until I speak with Her Majesty," she said defiantly, daring the guard to oppose her again.
He exchanged a wary look with his fellow guardsmen before looking back to Aemilia. After a long pause, he said, "Please, wait here, my Lady," and entered the chambers, closing the large door behind him.
When he returned, Frigga was behind him, wearing a long, golden silk dressing gown with her long blonde tresses down to her waist. Aemilia's eyes widened. She had never seen the Queen in such a manner. It wasn't that she looked unruly – certainly not – it was just that she rarely ever allowed others to see her in such a casual state, especially when it was already into the afternoon hours.
Her eyes landed on Aemilia's, and she immediately saw how tired Frigga was. She looked as though she hadn't slept all night.
"My Queen—?"
"Aemilia," she said, coming up to her and enveloping her into a warm embrace. It was comforting, but somehow it concerned Aemilia further. "I'm terribly sorry for not notifying you in due time," she said, pulling away to look her in the eye. "I simply do not have the time to work with you this afternoon. I'm terribly sorry."
Aemilia grasped the older woman's hands. "No, no, it's completely fine." She searched her expression, noting how tense she looked despite the obvious exhaustion. "Is…everything okay, your Majesty? You seem…tired."
She sighed and put on a somewhat forced smile. "Yes, I am. Unfortunately, there's been some urgent matters the All-Father and I have been tending to for the past few days, but there is no need for you to worry, dear."
Something about her tone made Aemilia feel a sense of unease and doubt. "Are you sure? I'd be happy to help with anything you might need. I was concerned something was going on. I saw Thor yesterday; he seemed quite unsettled—"
"What did he say?" Frigga interrupted.
Aemilia looked at her with increasing concern. Despite her best efforts to exude a calm exterior, Frigga seemed almost…frantic. "He simply said there was an urgent matter on another Realm he needed to tend to. Of course, I thought travel between the realms was impossible without the Bifrost, but he didn't say anything further, and I didn't ask."
Frigga nodded, clasping Aemilia's hands tighter, "Good, good. Well, I'm sorry, but I really must get back to my work—"
"Forgive my persistence," Aemilia quickly interjected before Frigga could leave her grip and return to her chambers. "But…is everything truly alright? You're worrying me, your Majesty."
Frigga's features visibly softened. They looked grateful for her concern, but a sadness swirled around in the wise depths of her eyes. "Something has indeed…come to our attention, but you needn't worry, my sweet sweet girl. I will let you know if you could be of some help, thank you, dear."
Aemilia was still wary, but eventually she nodded, satisfied with that for now. Hugging her once more, she added, "You've helped me in so many unfathomable ways, it's the least I could do to help you if necessary." Aemilia, however, could not see how the Queen winced in guilt at that statement. When the two released each other, Aemilia also said, "Before you go, know that I would like to speak to you about some potions whenever you find the chance."
"Are you well?"
Despite her brain screaming NO in response to that question, Aemilia smiled through it—she was getting rather good at that nowadays. She just didn't want to add anything else to the Queen's very obviously full plate. "Everything is fine; just, perhaps, notify me whenever you have some spare time?"
Frigga smiled and nodded. "Of course, dear. I'll send for you as soon as I can." Then, the Queen was gone back behind her door, leaving Aemilia to a painfully free schedule and an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong, but she had no idea as to what.
For the rest of the day, Aemilia occupied herself by reviewing older spells and incantations and studying Loki's extensive book of potions and magic. Unfortunately, there was nothing there for anxiousness. Eventually, she grew tired of casting images of flowers or failing to trade places with a body double of herself.
For the rest of the day, she found herself at the training arena, where she practiced her aim with throwing knives. Aemilia had always been fairly coordinated, but it had taken months upon months of constant practice for her to finally begin to grasp the art. Very rarely would she hit her target, but she was beyond excited to finally see it becoming a more common occurrence in the past few weeks.
Actual sparring had come much more naturally to Aemilia. She enjoyed the thrill of it, the unpredictability. It quickly became a nice reprieve to her fairly monotonous schedule, and Fandral always managed to keep her guessing. He had told her not too long ago that she was close to surpassing his own training with daggers in close combat. While she was very proud of such a feat, she wondered who would continue her teachings. Sif, perhaps, but she and the warrior had never bonded very well. She held a lot of respect for the warrior, and while Aemilia felt Sif respected her, too, she always had a feeling that she also felt her to be naïve and, well, who knew what else. Perhaps she had once been right, though Aemilia felt she could certainly challenge that assumption now.
As she continued to go back and forth between throwing and retrieving the knives, she wished Fandral would randomly show up. If he did, they could spar until Aemilia was so exhausted, she had no hope but to immediately fall asleep as soon as her head made contact with her pillow. Unfortunately, though, he did not appear, so when her arm was too tired to throw any longer, Aemilia went back to her chambers for the night.
She did not sleep well, but at least it was free of any sudden attacks of panic or anxiousness or any lasting nightmares. Recently, that seemed to be all she could ask for.
She rose early the next morning to meet with her father for breakfast. They chatted amicably. Haidr updated her on her mother's recent antics—thankfully they were nothing of consequence—and Aemilia decided to not mention her recent setbacks. There was no reason to worry him, and she was sure that once she could meet with Frigga to discuss methods of treatment, she would be back to normal quite quickly.
After she saw her father off, she went to the theatre for a one-on-one rehearsal with her voice teacher. Maintaining a focus on technique rather than emotion kept her quite detached for the entirety of the few hours, and for that she was grateful. Once she was dismissed, she took the opportunity to meet up with Elida, who had been at the theatre preparing for an upcoming audition.
As the two women conversed, Aemilia took the time to tell Elida of what occurred between her and Fandral. It was a relieving outlet, and Elida was ever the helpful one in further advice and support. It was nice to have such a close friend that truly understood what she was feeling.
Eventually, the time came where Aemilia had to leave to meet with Fandral for further training. Elida had her own ideas. "Could I possibly come with you?" When met with Aemilia's confused gaze and a lone, raised eyebrow, the girl quickly added, "Oh, not to train, of course – though that would be quite a sight – but just to watch. I've heard so many stories and you've shown me your glorious armor, but I really am simply desperate to see you and Fandral in action." Aemilia's other eyebrow quickly lifted to meet the other, and Elida's eyes widened dramatically. "Not like…Not that kind of action, the sword-and-daggers-and-shields kind of action. Not that the other kind of action wouldn't be quite the sight—I mean, not that I want to see—"
"Elida," Aemilia pressed gently. The blonde froze mid-sentence, snapping her mouth shut and unable to hold back an adorable blush. "Don't hurt yourself, dear, I know what you mean." Elida winced and shook her head exasperatingly, earning a chuckle from her older friend.
"One of these days, I will learn to control my incessant babbling."
Aemilia cracked a grin. "I truly hope not. Your lack of filter continues to be one of the highlights of my day. But yes," she said, getting back on subject, "I would love for you to come with me."
That helped distract Elida from her embarrassment as she smiled brightly and clapped her hands in excitement. "Ah! I can't wait! Let's go!" she exclaimed, grabbing Aemilia's arm to pull her towards the carriage.
Fandral had welcomed Elida with open arms, inviting her to take a seat anywhere she liked while Aemilia changed out of her dress. Aemilia pushed particularly hard that day, and Fandral pushed right back. He never let her go easy, but this time, she had to really dig deep for all of the various techniques and sequences that he had taught her over the past year. By the time Fandral said they were done for the day, they were both drenched in sweat, panting, and their limbs were utterly aching.
Meanwhile, Elida had watched them so intently it was a wonder she blinked once. When they finally put up their weapons, Aemilia cast a quick glamour spell on them both so they could return to the palace looking presentable. When they returned from the weapons room, the tiny woman practically leapt from her seat in the stands to run towards them.
"Great. Odin's. Beard. That was the most mesmerizing thing I have ever seen!" she yelled, her tinkling voice bouncing off the arena in echoes. With how little she was, she looked almost like an ecstatic child, and Fandral nor Aemilia could withstand her charm. They both laughed heartily at her excitement as the three of them turned towards the palace.
"You!" she yelled, jabbing an animated finger at Fandral, "I've heard so many stories about you, but seeing you in person puts them all to shame! You moved so fast, my eyes could barely keep up with you!"
Fandral smiled widely, sharing amused looks with Aemilia. "I know," he said in clearly fake arrogance, "but it is nice to hear every once in a while," he grinned, winking at her.
"And you!" The finger then turned to Aemilia. "No wonder your legs are almost better than mine! And trust me, that's no easy feat." A giggle burst from Aemilia's lips. "You two are just so amazing! I feel horridly inadequate."
Fandral couldn't stop laughing at the young women's never ending babble. As the main walkway to the palace entrance came into view, Aemilia interjected, "Well, I highly doubt either of us can pull our legs over our heads and walk on our hands."
Fandral choked on nothing. "Excuse me, do what?"
Elida laughed at his alarmed expression and said, "Surely, Aemilia has told you of my dancing."
"Well, yes, but she's never mentioned anything about your affinity for contortion," he replied, eyes wide at the thought. Aemilia smiled, letting the two of them talk as she aimlessly watched guards and an occasional noble move up and down the walkway.
Elida shrugged, "It all goes along with dance. Nowadays, to have a successful career in dance, flexibility is necessary to…"
Elida's talking dimmed in Aemilia's ears as she distantly saw a familiar blonde head appear on the walkway, coming from the broken Bifrost. Thor was walking at a manic pace, his strides easily equaling three of Aemilia's. He was a good distance away, so she couldn't totally see his face, but it looked as though his expression was contorted inward in anger. Following much further behind was a large group of guards, huddled in a tight formation that moved slowly, their lines never faltering. Her previous, cryptic conversations with the Prince and Queen came back to the forefront of her mind.
Interrupting their conversation, she touched Fandral's shoulder, getting his attention. He followed her gaze, looking just in time to see Thor burst through the palace doors. "…Did Thor ever tell you anything about his mission to some other realm?" she asked without looking away from the group of guards, moving closer to get a better look. Fandral and Elida followed.
"No. He just told me it was something that would remain between the Royal Family. I figured it best not to ask further questions. He did look quite unsettled, though," he noted.
"I spoke with the Queen yesterday," Aemilia added. "She seemed off as well. I'd never seen her so stressed, honestly, not since...," she trailed off, sure she had seen…something for a split second.
"…Aemilia?" Elida called out in confusion as she walked ahead of them. She blinked multiple times, sure she was just seeing things. The formation just passed the halfway mark to the palace when a miniscule gap between two of the guards appeared for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Aemilia to see a streak of green and a glint of gold in the early evening sun.
A flurry of…some, unspeakable, indescribable emotion rushed down Aemilia's spine, sending her heart racing. No…, she thought. She was seeing things again, she had to be. Or it was simply nothing, and her overactive mind was filling in the blanks when it shouldn't.
Her breath started coming in short little gasps when she saw another flash of green, this time accompanied with an undeniable sight of long, raven-black hair.
Before Aemilia could even begin to process what she was seeing, her feet broke into a dead sprint without her own conscious demand. It's not real, it's not real. It's not possible, she chanted as her feet carried her closer and closer, desperate to know the truth.
An overwhelming stream of tears blurred her vision and streamed down her cheeks as she reached the walkway and the group of guards approached the door. Elida and Fandral's calls for her fell on deaf ears as they chased after her.
As the doors opened, she was still too far behind to catch up before they would disappear into the palace. In a rush of blind panic, devoid of all rational thought and reason, she stopped in her tracks when a frantic scream laden with desperation and disbelief ripped through her entire being.
"LOKI!"
The guards skidded to a halt, and utterly painful silence followed. She loosely recognized Elida yell her name behind her, the two of them still catching up, but she didn't even dare blinking as she watched and waited. Her entire body was shaking like a leaf, unbridled adrenaline racing through her veins and heart fighting to catch up.
But when the rear guards slowly parted to reveal the person in the middle, her heart stopped beating altogether.
Loki, her dead lover, stood there, alive and breathing and existing before her very eyes. She looked, seeing but unable to believe. He stood there, each limb in chains but seemingly unharmed. With bated, almost non-existent breath, his impossibly green gaze finally found Aemilia's, and for the first time in a year, something broken was realigned in Aemilia's soul. A never ceasing emptiness was suddenly filled, and a disbelieving sob flew from her lips.
His eyes widened at her visage, completely betraying his previously cool expression. They took her in, looking up and down her body in disbelief before returning back to her eyes. Time seemed to evaporate from existence, green meeting her teary hazel in an intense, bewildering mix of disbelief and shock.
She vaguely heard another call of her name and felt the definitive presence of her two companions finally arriving on either side of her, but she dare not move to even spare a glance to either of them.
Loki was the one to break eye contact. His powerful stare ignored the tiny blonde to her right altogether, but slowly slid over to a heavy breathing Fandral on her left. His once wide-eyed, open expression immediately mutated into something dark, sinister, and utterly bone-chilling. His eyes suddenly sparked palpable hatred and disdain. His stare flashed back to Aemilia, and his narrowed, hateful gaze did not falter, making her physically take a step back.
Then, before Aemilia's mind could even remotely catch up, Loki ripped his gaze away, turned back around, and disappeared with the hoard of guards behind the palace doors.
Unable to register anything that had just happened, Aemilia nearly collapsed in a fit of full-body sobs and anguished cries. Despite all of the incapacitating emotions she had endured the past year, this was beyond anything she could handle. She was filled with joy, and fear, and anguish, and confusion, and anxiousness, and hope, and a continuous, endless list of warring emotions that she simply couldn't make sense of. A constant stream of memories – both joyful and tragic – flashed through her head so hard it sent her reeling.
Her already panicked gasps turned into labored wheezing, and she blindly turned around towards Fandral and Elida, who were now yelling her name in panic.
Fandral had an unfaltering grip on her shoulders, trying his best to help but finding himself hopelessly at a loss. Elida had her dainty hands on Aemilia's tear soaked face, desperately pleading with her. "Listen to me, Aemilia! You're hyperventilating! Breathe!" When her pleas were met with nothing but strained sobs and nothing short of a severe emotional breakdown, Elida felt her own tears fall for her friend. She could no longer say she truly understood what she was going through, for she had never experienced anything like this.
Her sobs seemingly never letting up, Aemilia desperately gasped for air as her vision narrowed, her head feeling heavy and light all at the same time. Her footing faltered, and she blindly attempted to brace herself on Fandral, but suddenly all of her strength disappeared entirely.
In a rush of darkness, Aemilia fell into a motionless, limp heap in Fandral and Elida's arms.