...
Loki had been summoned to his mother's chambers. Technically he has been requested, but as she's his mother, it still feels as if he's a little boy. When he gets there, a lady tells him his mother is still occupied and he is made to wait. Being King, it does not change anything really.
After a while he becomes impatient and pushes past the lady in waiting into his mother's Solarium, she had asked for him after all. What he saw filled him with dread.
"Mother!" he exclaims and rushes towards her. Frigga turns.
"I was only speaking with your brother." She scolds him. "There is no need to storm in here." But Loki barely hears her words.
"Your hands." He breathes, they are see-through, insubstantial. As the entirety of Frigga had been not moments before. A simple projection was not supposed to do that. Had never done that. Frigga followed his gaze and steel appeared in her eyes. She flexes muscle and makes a fist, once, twice and her hands solidify. They say nothing for a long time.
"Have you discovered anything?" Loki then asks. After he knew Frigga also felt something, something coming, he had been equal parts relieved and worried when she dug into research the way he could not. Frigga links an arm through his, it is warm and solid and real, and smiles at him. A smile that gives no clue as to the worrying events that just happened.
"No news, I'm afraid." She says, walking with him, steering him lightly to her gardens. "A spell like your brother's is neigh impossible to break outside its intended solution." Yes, Loki knew this; if a spell has an obvious way to be broken, breaking it in any other way was extremely hard.
"It's a hammer." Loki grouses. "What does a hammer know of worth?"
"I wish I knew." Frigga sighs and her worry for her son is plain. Neither Frigga nor Loki had even managed to even budge Mjolnir. "And I have read many stories, but people seem to be either 'worthy' or not, I have yet to read about one who wasn't but later became so." Frigga was too much of a Queen to sneer at the word 'worth', but she had never made it a secret she did not believe in Mjolnir's divine right to decide a person's worth. Loki didn't respond.
"Also, prophetic dreams and the occasional vision into the future are common enough, but they are singular events. Not a constant stream of information of things to come. Not that I would classify this as information." Frigga sounded grumpy. Loki had to agree, this, whatever this was, was more a lack of information. As if his insides knew something his outside did not.
"Our magic is increasing though." Frigga said, Loki gave her a noncommittal hmm. She said 'our', but she was clearly more worried about him. She had mentioned the increase in his seidr more than once. It seemed to have doubled, tripled over night. But, from what he had just witnessed, it wasn't just him.
"But you seem to be doing well." Frigga changes the subject cheerfully. "How did you know about Queen Berenganya? Did Huginn and Muninn tell you?" Frigga teases him, humour alight in her eyes.
"No, as you well know." Loki pretends at offense, but cannot help a smile. "They are Odin's constructs, and it's not at all unusual for a magical construct to respond only to its creator." Loki lectures primly; they are both keenly aware that it bothers him that the blasted ravens all but ignore him.
"Off course." Frigga indulges.
"A servant told me." Loki says. He had been thinking out loud in his study and had been pacing. He had nearly tripped over a redheaded servant scrubbing his floors, one he did not recall granting access to his rooms. The redhead had skittered outside his reach, apologising, and managing to combine extreme enthusiasm with appropriate deference. On her was out she had mentioned Queen Berenganya of the southern lands.
He didn't remember ever seeing so many servants before in his life. Intellectually he knew they were legion in the castle, but he'd rarely seen them and spoken to them even less. When he saw the red-head again, she was polishing wood, he asked her more about what she knew of Jotunheim. She had a smile so wide it made his jaw ache and a very excitable personality, but she gave a decent description of Berenganya's lands and court. He had checked this with his own scrying and it seemed all true. It was an odd thing, but he had decided to go with his instincts. So far it was paying off.
"A servant?" Frigga wonders. "How odd."
"Yes." Loki agrees. It was odd, but so were many other things. "I must go." He took his leave of this mother. "Please be careful." He shot a pointed looks at her hands.
"I'm always careful." Frigga lied.
…..
"What do you know of the servants?" The question escaped Loki more than he had planned on asking it. He did want to know more about the servants around the castle, but, seeing as he had lived there for over a millennium and had never thought to ask before, it was quite an odd thing to ask he felt. Still Haakon, who had been his personal valet since Loki could remember and also the only servant Loki could remember ever noticing up until the last month or so, remained stoic as always.
"Which servants?" Haakon questioned. Loki paused, how to describe them so that Haakon would know which he meant, but not implying any particular interest?
"There is a girl with red hair." Loki started. In truth she was little more than a child and her hair so violently red that Loki was certain it must be a glamour. "Also a woman who serves me dinner. I do not think I have seen her before." Norns Loki hoped that was true, for all he knew Lyra had been around for eons. He had never paid attention to servants before and they were meant to be practically invisible. Haakon pursed his lips, the most expression that came from the man. He would be set for a moon now.
"It is the change in you wards My King." Haakon started.
"Excuse me?" Loki questioned, there was no change in his wards. They had been the same ever since his mother had taught him how to raise them. Loki had specifically checked his wards several times over the last month, trying to find out how the food appeared the entrance of servants he could not remember. The wards were specific; no one could enter while he was inside without his permission, with the exception of Frigga and Thor. While he was away the castle-bound servants could enter, but not take anything away unless he specified as such.
"Indeed, the rooms now remain sealed to all but those without even the faintest trace of seidr." Haakon explained. "Your reasons are your own, off course, My King, but those servants, they can hardly be discreet." Haakon sniffed, but Loki was hardly listening. For one, it explained why he suddenly noticed the servants if before they had remained hidden with house-hold seidr. For another; those without any seidr were extremely rare. Even warriors and those without any magical knowledge would have some minor or innate magic. Loki was surprised they had managed to find any servants to clean his chambers at all. Nor had he known Haakon was one of them.
"Hmm, it is hardly a bother." Loki lied, but it was best if Haakon believed the new wards were of his doing. "But tell me more about them."
"Ah.. what do you wish to know My King?" Haakon seemed to be somewhat nervous.
"General information." Loki pressed, especially heritage he thought.
"Well, Elsa is the granddaughter of Harald the Merchant." Haakon started, the name meant nothing to Loki. "He has a daughter by a Muspeldanir." Haakon made his distaste clear. "From when he was still in trade with Muspelheim. The daughter is unmarried, a seamstress and the mother of Elsa. Hardly proper, but not dangerous at all." Haakon sniffed and his mouth curled in distaste. Interesting, it would explain the red hair, Loki thought. Her background in trade explained her above average knowledge about other Realms. It fit quite neatly.
"And Lyra?" Loki asked, momentarily forgetting he didn't want to seem too interested. Haakon looked constipated.
"She came to the castle about two moons hence and applied for work in the kitchen. Her skills were quickly noticed and she was promoted to cook." Haakon supplied to bare minimum of information.
"What are you not telling me?" Loki asked low and dangerously. Haakon swallowed.
"My King, we have taken all possible precautions." Haakon tried for reassurance, but only succeeded in making Loki more suspicious.
"What?" Loki growled. Haakon deflated.
"We traced her as far as Älghamm, not four moons hence." Haakon started. "According to the guards, she came along the Eastern road, but neither Bäralund or Laksjøen had ever heard or seen her. She worked in the inn for a while and then hitched a lift with a trader called Igrn to the Capital." Haakon finished. Wonderful, Loki thought, a mysterious woman appeared from the woods and decides to cook him meals. And everyone seemed to think that was all right. Perhaps there is quite a good reason he is going mad.
"And she has never once mentioned her origins?" Loki asked.
"No." Haakon confirmed. "She has remained quite mum about the subject, answering in only the vaguest terms." Loki had noticed that. He had seen her several more times, and clearly annoyed at his questions, she answered defiantly and carefully, speaking what Loki believed to be truth, yet never relaying any real information.
"Though it is clear she is not Aesir." Yes, thank you, you idiot. Loki knows that much. "I have observed her myself, My King." Haakon tries to redeem himself. "And she keeps to herself, often spending her free time in the stables with the horses and the dogs. She likes to swim." Haakon managed to deliver his proof of spying on a young woman going for a swim with a completely straight face. It was interesting information though. The Aesir couldn't swim, as they were too dense to float, nor did the dwarves. It provided more clues as to what Lyra was.
"She spends time in the library, though Hilde, the librarian, seems to think she cannot read High Capital." Haakon continued. "She draws landscapes and is a terrible seamstress. She eats a bit of all she cooks and an einherjar accompanies her when she goes to serve you, My King." Haakon finishes. Loki wishes him gone so he can think about this. He is less than happy about the fact that he is being served food by a woman no one seems to know, but he agrees silently that she does not seem dangerous. He waves Haakon away. He needs to think.
…..
Thinking brought him ,many theories, one more ridiculous than the other, but no more information, so he decided to go directly to the source. He teleported.
Her room is really very small. His wardrobe is bigger than her room. There is a bed suited barely for one on one side and a chest and a desk on the other side with just enough room for one person to stand in between. The window is disproportionally large and has a sliver of a water view in the distance. There are stacks of books on every available space. Loki picks one up and he sees it's written in a script he doesn't know, let alone the language. He puts it back and looks at the drawings on the wall. It's not a landscape he sees, it's a map. She draws maps. Mapmaker. Cartographer. Wayfinder. Guiding Light. Architect. The words echo in his mind with an odd hum.
"What are you doing here?" She sounds from behind him, any pretence she had toward deference has gone now, in her own room. The door is closed behind her, the small room barely able to contain the both of them. He makes himself tall.
"I need to know where you're from." He commands. He is King, he gets to command his servants. Yet it makes him feel like a bully. She narrows her eyes and he finds it more pleasing than he should.
"Many places." She repeats the words she has spoken to him before, she sounds somewhat sulkily.
"Yes." He snaps. "But you, just like all of us, were born in one place. And you will tell me which one that was." He commands her. She can lie, off course, but no one takes such care in choosing their words if they intend to lie. She is angry, he can tell. Her eyes, a bright grass green, flash and her jaw is set in a grim cant.
"Doorwerth." She says finally. He has never heard of it and he tells her as much. She all but rolls her eyes. Loki finds he doesn't mind all that much. He would be more suspicious had she been all subservient while he had clearly broken into her room. He is still King however and he stands his ground.
"Well, sit down." She gestures grudgingly and he sits on the chair. Lyra sits on the bed and their knees almost touch in the tiny room.
"And where is Doorwerth?" He asks further; she answers with another few words that mean nothing to him. He thinks he even detects a hint of amusement in her voice. He looks at her and she avoids looking him directly into his eyes. Torture. The voice suggests. Knives and fire and ice. The voice comes up with all sorts of ways to make her talk. Simultaneously the magic presses, wanting. Loki changes tactics.
"I know you." He states and Lyra raises an eyebrow. Insubordinate, disrespectful.. The voice continues.
"I should hope so." She agrees; a sense of humour Loki realises, definitely humour. The magic around them is anticipatory, like a crowd smelling blood and chanting 'fight, fight, fight'. Haakon claimed, and Loki confirmed, she has no seidr of her own, at all, yet even Lyra seems to realise its pressure. She hunches down a bit, giving in seemingly.
"I don't know." She then says.
"Don't know what?" He asks, gritting his teeth, it's like pulling teeth with this woman.
"I don't know!" She stands up in frustration and nearly knocks her head on shelf. "I think I should know, but I don't."
"Don't know what?" Loki nearly yells. He is, clearly, not the only one that has noticed the force, the magic, but how someone without any seidr can, he doesn't know. She glares in his direction, not servant material at all she is.
"I need to be here." She then says. "I don't know why, or how, or what's happening." Lyra stares at the map on her wall. "But I think I once did." She is clearly unhappy admitting this. It is the best description he's gotten so far. There's something he should know, and maybe he once did know, but now he doesn't. She is lost in though and less guarded, so Loki goes back to his original question.
"You're not from Yggdrasil." He states, something he's been thinking about for a while now. She doesn't seem surprised at this at all.
"No." She agrees and he immediately wants to ask where she's from then, but realises she's already told him, it just doesn't mean anything to him. He has no concept of any realms, cities or places outside Yggdrasil.
"Is your father really a duke?" He wonders out loud.
"He was." Lyra confirms and he sees genuine grief on her features. "And my mother was really a commoner." Must be strange, to be a Lady first and now a servant.
"How did you get here?" He asks, curious. He had, a few centuries back, tried to figure out if there was life outside Yggdrasil and how to find it. It had ended rather disastrously.
"An accident. Technical failure I suppose." Her face clouds and she anticipates his next question. "I don't know!" She says firmly. "I'm a cartographer, I tell people where to go, which paths to take, not how to sail their boats or build their machines." Loki thinks this over. It makes sense, one can't know everything.
"And now you're a cook." Loki concludes.
"I'm a good cook." Lyra confirms and no one, not Haakon, or Cook or anyone who has tasted her food will say otherwise. She has done nothing wrong to anyone. She may very well be a lost girl form places unknown, though Loki doubts it.
"Very well." Loki says and he gets up to leave. The space is so small that they touch when he passes her, the magic, still somewhat bloodthirsty, hums eagerly. He looks back at her.
"You have a skull." He suddenly realises, and there is indeed a skull sitting on top of a stack of books next to a small vase of flowers.
"Head of my enemy." She explains with a smile playing around her lips. Loki nearly laughs, but stops when the force is back. Fight, fight, fight. He wants her, he realises, embarrassed. Or, better yet, he wants the memory of her. The one he's forgotten.
"I know you too." She then claims, apparently also aware somehow. Yes, he wants her, he wants what he doesn't know she is and yet.. If she were to give any inclination, any hint.. They don't need that much space.
"I need to be here." She says, a hint of regret in her voice. "I need this job." Yes, sordid affairs with servants are a bad idea. A really bad one. He doesn't even know her, not really. Certainly not enough to make any promises. And she could still be a very skilful enemy. She could be waiting to stab him in his sleep. Loki thinks it may be worth it.
"Yes." He clears his throat. "Goodnight." He bids her with sudden need to be elsewhere. He makes himself invisible and disappears.
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