Anara wakes, the morning sun beating its way through her eyelids, her head pounding. Shading her eyes, she looks around, unsure of where she is. Realizing they all passed out in the Mead Hall, Anara remembers why she usually uses Jedi tricks to stay sober at events like last night's. The next morning is never pleasant. Anara wakes, the morning sun beating its way through her eyelids, her head pounding. Shading her eyes, she looks around, unsure of where she is. Realizing they all passed out in the Mead Hall, Anara remembers why she usually uses Jedi tricks to stay sober at events like last night's. The next morning is never pleasant.
On the couch opposite her, Fandral is spooned with a serving girl, and Volstagg is curled around a plate of some kind of meat. Sif shifts against her and groans, hiding her own eyes. Thor lies half off another couch, snoring loudly. Not seeing Loki, she wonders where he has wandered off to, until she realizes that her fingers are twined in someone's hair. Looking over the edge of her couch, she sees Loki curled up on the floor. A foggy memory surfaces of him coming to sit at their feet and she and Sif plaiting his hair into messy braids. Putting her head back down, she closes her eyes again, and drifts back off to sleep with Sif at her back.
Later that day, she wakes to find herself back in her room. She has no memory of how she got there. Gabrielle, looking a little rough herself, tells her that a very hung-over Thor carried her there and staggered off to his own bed.
After a long bath and some very strong tea, Anara makes her way to the indoor training area in a desperate effort to shake the effects of the previous night's celebration. The halls are eerily quiet, and the few people she does see look about as bad as she feels. She finds the training room deserted so she decides to work through some forms with her lightsaber. Though not a flawless practice, she does feel somewhat better when she finishes. She decides to head back to the Mead Hall, to see if anyone else is up and sober yet.
Walking into the hall, she finds Loki at a table by himself, his head bowed over a steaming mug, his hair, free of the braids she and Sif subjected him to the night before, falling forward to cover his face. She smiles and shakes her head at the memory. They all had had WAY too much to drink by that point, and she remembers them all giggling like children at every little thing.
Catching a serving girl on her way to the table, she asks for a glass of water. Sitting down across from Loki, she tries not to laugh at the look on his face when he gazes up at her. Still clearly hung-over, he looks like he's spent a week without sleep, his eyes red and his cheeks sallow. He groans at her, clearly not amused by her smile.
"My dear Loki, you look like you've been fed to a Bantha and spit out. And here I thought you to be the least drunk of us all last night."
From behind her she hears Thor say, "Mead and my brother don't exactly have the best morning-after relationship."
Laughing, a mug of something hot in his hand, Thor sits down next to her, earning a dirty look from Loki when he jostles the table.
"I, however, don't have that problem."
Anara must admit he's right. Looking only slightly tired, there is no other evidence of the fact that he'd had at least twice the amount of most of the rest of them combined. Volstagg was the only other one who'd matched him cup-for-cup.
"How are the others fairing?" she asks Thor.
Loki interjects, "Can you two tone it down? My head is killing me, and you two are screeching like Father's ravens." He groans.
Thor laughs, ignoring his brother's request. "I have not seen the others, but I would guess they are all still abed."
Looking intently at her, he says, "To be honest, I am surprised to see you here and so bright eyed. Since you've been here, I've never seen you drink more than a single goblet of wine in an evening."
"I have the ability to forgo the effects of alcohol when I wish it. But even I have my limits," she admits.
Loki groans again and puts his head down on the table.
"Brother, perhaps you should go back to bed." Standing, Thor continues, "Come. Anara and I will walk you back and tuck you in."
Thor takes Loki's glare as acquiescence and walks around the table to help him up. Grudgingly, Loki stands and lets Thor and Anara take him back to his rooms. As they help him back into bed, Anara uses the Force to calm Loki's headache, and he's asleep before his head hits the pillow.
They leave his room as quietly as they can and walk in companionable silence out to the gardens. Reaching a relatively secluded spot, Thor stops and takes Anara's hand in his.
"My lady, may I ask you a question?" he says, his gaze suddenly intent.
Unsure of where this is leading, but sensing some trepidation from Thor, Anara replies, "Of course."
"What are your intentions towards my brother?"
Anara is taken aback by the question, not quite sure what Thor means.
"I'm sorry, Thor, I don't think I know what you mean."
"Since you awoke from your coma, I have seen and heard things pass between you two that make me wonder how you may feel about him. I would know the truth."
"Oh," she says, understanding now where this is headed. Meeting his gaze, she tells him, "I am fond of Loki, Thor."
Seeing his eyes fall from hers, she lifts his chin with a finger to meet his eyes again and quickly continues, "I owe him my life, and because of what he did to bring me back to consciousness, we have an odd sort of bond, but I look on him as I would a brother, nothing more."
Seeing a brightness return to his eyes, she says, "Besides, he's a little too… chaotic…in nature for my tastes."
Thor chuckles. Taking her hands in his, he says, "Then I would ask your permission to court you, my lady."
Anara, unsure what Asgardian courtship rituals entail, understands what Thor is asking, and takes a moment to think. As a Jedi, permanent bonds are frowned upon, attachment often leading down dangerous paths to the Dark Side. However, her own family has never adhered to that particular tenet, and having crossed to the Dark Side and back, she is not afraid of something like this leading her back down that path either.
Listening to the Force, she hears nothing. No warning bells, no feelings that she should be cautious. Just butterflies in her stomach every time she catches Thor gazing at her and a skip in her heartbeat when he takes her hand.
"Yes, I would like that very much," she tells him. "Though I do hope Asgardian courtship rituals don't include any drinking contests," she teases.
Thor laughs. "No, not typically."
Looking up at the sky as if he's listening to something, Thor returns his gaze to Anara.
"Forgive me, my Lady, but I must go. I will see you tomorrow morning in the training room? Roygan will finally allow you to train with all of us."
She nods, and he reaches down, kissing her softly.
"Until tomorrow then," he says and walks away.
Anara sits down on a nearby bench, letting her heartbeat settle down, hoping she's not fooling herself into walking down the wrong path. Settling into a light meditation, she attempts to look into the future. Images flash across her mind, too fast to make much sense out of. Babies crying, a ceremony of some sort, flashes of energy weapons in a battle, a red humanoid battle mech fighting next to a green giant, Loki's face in a mask of anguish, her sister, dressed in blood red leather, Force-choking an unseen victim.
Anara snaps out of her meditation, the pain in her heart intensifying and then dying back down to its now normal, tolerable level. She hasn't been able to completely rid herself of the pain, but until now, it's been under control. She wonders what the vision of her sister means. When she last saw her, she was imprisoned and under heavy guard in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Unable to make any sense of what she has seen, she decides to return to her chambers and ask Gabrielle about what Asgardian courtship entails.