When the phrase "Thor's brother" had reached Carthrine's ears for the first time, she would not deny now that her first thought was of a shorter, skinnier, more rambunctious version of the elder god himself. Someone just as boisterous and maybe as equally reckless, with a just-sprouting beard and tangled blonde hair that screamed "rag tag warrior!" at the top of his lungs.
The man that stood before her, then, could not have surprised her more.
Tall, was the first thing she noticed, and lean, genuinely lean, clad head to toe in (her breath hitched again) black matte armor. His hair held no hint of gold or bronze as the others; instead, it was the color of shadows, slicked firm against his head and ending below his shoulders.
And his eyes. Oh Hel, his eyes. Carthrine grew faint. Crystal blue. Raking over her slowly. All of a sudden, Carthrine felt very, very naked, and her slowly building confidence was dashed so strongly, she leaned hard on Thors arm to keep herself steady.
"Brother!" Thor's face showed bewilderment, followed swiftly by a shocked and hearty grin. "I thought that you were insisting upon your rest."
"Ah, but that was before the news of our honored guest had reached me." His words were like silk, or satin, or anything else that was smooth and dusky and liquid against her ears. "That would deprive her most grievously, would it not? I hope you have not exhausted her, brother. She seems more than faint."
Upon noticing her visible weakness, Carthrine immediately straightened herself, returning to her correct posture with as much dignity she could muster.
"Prince Loki," she said, bowing her head gracefully, "A pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure, my princess, is very much mine," he responded, stressing each syllable as he reached for her hand. Slowly, he drew it upwards, pressing his mouth to her skin languidly. This was a gesture common amongst the royalty of both realms, so Carthrine had grown more than used to the feel of a man kissing her hand. But something about the way his lips lingered over her knuckle made all the hairs on her arms stand on end, as if it was the very first time ever.
Oh yes, she thought to herself. Prince Loki was a charmer in this nest of vipers, it seemed.
Fighting the urge to ask for his lips to be placed much more intimate places, Carthrine pulled her hand back sharply, resisting yet enjoying the feeling of being trapped within his stare. "I fear," she tentatively began, gaining her bearings, "that Prince Loki must be far too tired from his journey to do something as trivial as dance. I am sure he needs his rest, in his current delicate condition."
He immediately understood the jab, and made a point of taking her hand back again, more forcefully, with a strength that let her know she was helpless.
"Lies and slander," he hissed through his smile. And without a second glance behind her she was out of Thor's arms and his is, the music flaring once again to signal the start of a much swifter, familiar dance.
Carthrine settled into Loki's arms, reminding herself of the feeling of slipping under crisp, silken bedsheets. She let her torso brush against his, his hand creeping up to the small of her back and stroking its curves gently. She knew that they were both being overtly forward, such improper behavior for a prince and princess, but Carthrine did not care in the slightest. And, if his behavior meant anything, neither did he.
"So, my lovely lady Carthrine..." he trailed off, the words twisting off his tongue as he scanned the crowd around them, "How do you find Asgard? Truly?"
She blinked, then laughed, realizing his parody of his brother's words from before. "Much more than what I had expected, in light of more recent developments," she replied. He smirked, and she continued: "So, I must ask you, my prince-"
"If I may be so bold to request the title 'my lord' instead, Lady Carthrine," he interjected and, upon seeing her confusion, added: "I find it a much more... invigorating phrase. Flattering, if you will, more relevant to our statuses."
"Ah," she said bemusedly, "I see. I must admit that is much tamer than what I expected."
His eyebrow quirked up. "Now what would that mean, princess?"
"From what I had judged of your people, my lord," Carthrine made sure to stress the final words with a hint of teasing sarcasm, "I expected a much more fancier title would be preferable. 'My liege', 'my superior', 'my master', 'my-,'"
"All of which you will call me later tonight, if you wish," he purred in her ear.
Carthrine froze.
In a moment, she realized she could not believe what was taking place in this ballroom, surrounded by people swaying and laughing and paying no attention to the strange girl who was burning in this prince's arms. Everything had been, and still was, moving so quickly, to the point where her heart was pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry. Here was this man, royalty, but still a stranger, treating her like a maiden to be seduced and won. She knew she should not let him have her so easily.
But oh, how she wanted to. How her heart betrayed her face, which was all but cool and collected.
"There is one particular thing," she said when she regained her voice again, "that I have yet to find in Asgard, Prince Loki."
"And what could that be?" he questioned, his face showing genuine intrigue as well as doubt to her intentions.
"A silent place to practice my craft," Carthrine responded, leaning back from his grasp to better view his face. She knew her change of subject required a change in space; they had been much too close, much too intimate… Slowly, Carthrine felt herself spinning back down to reality. "I... miss it, so to speak."
"What would such a craft be, perchance?" he asked, curiosity spreading over his features. Carthrine inwardly noticed how heavily his forehead creased; it was, for lack of a better word, endearing. "I can assure that there must be somewhere here that could satisfy your wishes."
Carthrine thought to herself for a moment, then, with a wickedly mischievous grin, replied "I shall not tell you. It would be much more gratifying for you to uncover what it is through your own skill, would it not? A challenge for what I hear may be one of the most brilliant minds in Asgard."
"Oh," his lips parted, and a smirk of his own appeared on them to mirror hers. "A test of my abilities. I do enjoy those. And what if I win?"
Before Carthrine had the chance to tell the prince exactly what his prize could be, the familiar thump of warriors boots began drifting in their direction. They both paused, aware that their conversation was not one to be overheard, and turned, facing the approaching figure with perfectly calm and collected faces.
"Brother," Thor announced as he stopped short of them, a smile playing on his handsome (in the majority's opinion, that is, not Carthrine's) features, "Please, allow the lady to rest! The Warriors Three wish to make her acquaintance, and it would be a great pity to introduce her if she be any more worn."
Loki immediately opened his mouth to deny the request, but Carthrine jumped in: "Oh, yes. Forgive me, Prince Thor. I fear I have neglected the people who have come on my behalf, and it would be rude indeed to deny them my company."
Her partner shot a questioning gaze at her, but Carthrine did not meet his eyes. She did not want to admit that she felt uncomfortable moving so quickly, so the distraction was a welcome excuse to take a sparing moment to collect herself.
Politely nodding at Loki, Carthrine attempted to detach herself from the grip he had on her arm; however, his hand only tightened.
"Allow me to escort you myself, then, my lady," he insisted, and upon seeing the determination to stay by her side, she did not object. Thor scanned both of their faces intently, then, his cape bouncing with his shrugging shoulders, he led them across the room.
The journey from one side of the hall to the other stretched out in front of her. Carthrine took the walk as the perfect opportunity to think, spacing herself out from the man who was grasping so firmly at her forearm. She had to admit, she was not expecting to find someone so bold, yet visibly composed in comparison to the other Asgardians. Many warriors here, she noted as she scanned the room, seemed already knee deep in drunken stupors, and the few that were sober were obviously married to the women latched to their arms. She began to wonder whether Loki was actually a warrior at all. He might have been something based more on talent, or skill, such as an archer or mage.
She felt his frame, his light footsteps, walking next to hers with a...
Strut?
Yes. She would call it a strut.
And she decided he was definitely a magician.
Where Carthrine came from, magicians had a certain air about them. A pride in their study and hard work, but a demureness that made them seem sensitive in their prowess. Loki lacked the second half of this behavior to a point, but she still ventured so far to say that he was a lot less obnoxious about his talents than the others probably had been. Not once so far has he boasted about his battles, or talked of some great victory over some great distance; no, his attention had been focused on her, and nothing but her, since he walked to her side.
Carthrine heard voices, and she looked up. Her eyes met four others, staring expectantly at her.
"Oh," she said quietly, realizing she had missed someone addressing her. "I apologize. I'm afraid I lost my head."
"Nonsense, madam!" said the soldier closest to her, clad head to toe in silver armor that covered his (pardon her observance) rotund figure. The man reached out, and preparing for the custom, Carthrine extended her hand, which he kissed. She held in the urge to laugh at the way his beard tickled her wrist.
"It is an honor to meet you, Lady Carthrine!" the man boomed, and, turning to the others, he gestured for them all to gather round. "We are the Warriors Three. I am Volstaag, this is Fandral, and Hogun, and our leader, Lady Sif!" The only girl in their company, a tall, strongly-built woman with an intense stare, chuckled mildly at his comment, then returned to her stoic demeanor just as quickly.
One by one, Carthrine allowed her hand to be taken by each of these gentlemen. The first was Fandral, a wispy man who looked to be the romantic, who lingered for a few moments too long as he kissed her knuckle; the second, Hogun, a dark and serious warrior to the nines whom barely changed expressions. Both of them seemed agreeable, she decided, with good intentions and brave spirits that were just a little too eager for battle.
Carthrine was at a loss what to do once she reached the woman at the end of the line. In a sudden display of boldness, she decided to curtsy, as a maiden would do to a warrior of much higher status. The woman, surprised, bowed her head in acknowledgement, and Carthrine instantly felt as if she were showing respect not often given to a woman who deserved it. Satisfied, she returned to Loki's side, his arm wrapping once again around her own.
"I see my lady and Prince Loki are enjoying their time together thus far," Sif remarked, and Carthrine immediately felt a laugh bubble up in her throat. The awkwardness was back.
"Oh?" Volstaag said, his chest puffing out heartily, "What say you, my lady? Has Loki been charming you with that fabled silver tongue of his?"
Carthrine turned to Loki, whose face had suddenly flushed in embarrassment. "Fabled silver tongue?"
"We should have warned you, princess," Fandral said jokingly, coming over and whispering loudly into her ear, "Prince Loki is nothing but a lying scoundrel! Truly a womanizer in the flesh!"
"Fandral, Volstaag, please..." Loki looked uncomfortable, his free hand moving up to squeeze his temples and hide his face. "Let the lady make her own choices about my character."
"Should I, prince?" Carthrine said, and his eyes found hers again. "Or should I take the advice of your friends? I fear they must know much more about your, as they would most likely put it, questionable intentions than I."
In a moment, the dark and seductive prince from five minutes ago turned to something akin to a petulant teenager, embarrassed by his older brothers in front of a girl he fancied. Carthrine could not believe the change, but, at the same time, saw a genuineness that may have been absent from his previous behavior.
He was just a man, she said to herself, smiling. Just a man at heart.
His hand tightened harder on her arm, a vice-like grip, and he leaned down to her ear. "You do not seem to mind these questionable intentions at all, you little whore."
Carthrine could not hold back her gasp.
The others, whom had been distracted by something Thor had said, turned to her quickly.
"What is wrong, m'lady?" Fandral said, concern weaving onto his pointed face.
"N... nothing," Carthrine choked out, straightening up to her full height and, with one hard pull, yanked her arm out of Loki's grip. "I simply misheard something. I fear I must be getting far too tired to continue my presence here."
Thor looked to her, affronted. "But my lady, you have only danced with two-,"
"Let her be, brother," Loki, striding back up to her side, patted an understanding hand on her shoulder. Carthrine mentally recoiled from the touch, but kept steady, forcing a smile onto her face. "The princess has obviously undergone much stress in her appearance tonight. There is no need to trouble her longer."
Stiffening, Carthrine looked to his brother, oblivious to the discomfort that she was writhing in. "Prince Thor, may I ask you to escort me back to my room? I fear I shall forget the way, and I need someone to depend on here in this foreign land."
"Of course, my lady," Thor answered, and, completely unaware of the death stare that occupied his brothers face, took Carthrine's arm and led her out of the room with haste.
"Did you enjoy yourself, Carthrine?"
"What?"
Carthrine started. They had both been walking in calm silence, and his breaking it by saying her name, with no title attached, seemed to shatter it like glass.
"Forgive me," he said quickly, "I forgot my manners."
"No, no. It is perfectly fine," she assured, and they both smiled at each other, in a gentle way that showed that neither had any strong feelings for one another beyond a solid, budding friendship.
"How did you find my brother, princess?" He cut into her thoughts suddenly, and Carthrine felt her whole body tense like a cat whose tail had been yanked. "It seemed that he spent more time talking to you tonight than he has with any other besides myself. I hope you understood his intentions were not to seem sly or unsavory. That is merely the type of person he tries to be."
"Oh..." Carthrine replied, her actual responses tumbling around in her head.
She wanted to tell Thor about what Loki had said, but, upon another few moments of thought, decided against it. It would not be best to cause a rift between brothers. In fact, she was almost sure that Thor would not believe her account at all. Yes, it would be best to just let it be. Maybe she just misheard...
The memory of his voice echoed in his ear.
Whore.
...No. She did not mishear a word.
"Here we are, my lady." And looking up, there were the large double doors to her room, waiting for her to escape into them. Curtsying to her escort, she quickly opened them and slipped inside, leaving Thor, all smiles, in her wake.