Chapter Four – Surprise!
The sun revolves around you.
I don't know what you think you're on.
But if it would please you
I could say you were the cat's meow.
Love Drug – "The Only One"
It was ridiculous. Darcy had heard some absolutely preposterous ideas before but this—oh, this won first place. There was no possible way this could work. Darcy replayed the conversation over and over again ad nauseam.
Have tea party dress-up with the royals. Smile. Feign interest. Laugh on occasion. Complain of some residual ailment. Excuse self. Have Lofn escort her "back to her chambers." Make a detour to Prince Loki. And somehow have amazing intergalactic super sex time without getting caught. Oh yeah, this plan just reeked of foolproof ideas.
But to get past the guards, Darcy would need to tweak her appearance—which was code for whore it out. Because according to Lofn even a delinquent God-Prince needed respite in the warmth of women. To an untrained, naïve mind her statement sounded eloquent. But Darcy was savvy to her true meaning. Prince Loki just needed a good fuck.
And while this certainly was a once in a lifetime fling, it was wracked with confusion and unanswered questions. Darcy didn't even want to think about the worst of all, but it slithered into her mind and squeezed tight around her lungs.
Did Loki even want her to survive?
Lofn swore it was an accident. She was convinced the Prince never meant her any harm. That he never intended for her to almost—well, let's be honest here—die. And while Darcy wanted to believe her, his past history said otherwise. Loki tried to subjugate and eradicate an entire civilization—what would one more little human girl possibly matter?
Darcy had to know. Rumors and hearsay would only cause more trouble. She needed to hear the truth. She deserved to know everything. And there was no better time to start than now.
"So, uh," Darcy squirmed—yet again, for perhaps the umpteenth time—on the cold marble chair. Sheesh. Did the interior designer even consider cushions around here?
Lofn did not pause from her primping of Darcy. "Yes?"
She straightened on the seat and continued, "Has this happened before? You know with Loki? Kinda seems like he's playing with his prey, if you follow me."
"Yes," Lofn rolled her dark eyes up to Darcy. "The Prince derives pleasure from games. As such, he is not unaccustomed to sharing his bed."
Wait, what? Darcy wrinkled her nose. This was so not where she wanted to take the conversation. She needed to steer this somewhere else—
"Were you inclined to think him chaste?" Lofn laced silver bracelets around Darcy's arm. "I assure you, he has had far many lovers than your few years of life."
Oh, great! Real comforting! Darcy puffed her cheeks and closed her eyes. Was this really happening right now? Was Lofn really going to talk about all of his sexual conquests?
"Does his carnal knowledge intimidate you?" The handmaiden pressed.
Oh, yeah. They went there. And it needed to stop. She had no desire to learn about his numerous bedmates, extensive cunnalinguist skills, or all the ways she paled in comparison to his past lovers. Darcy did not want to know any it. The best she could do was go along with it. And pretend to not think about Loki tangled in some existential karma sutra with an Asgardian Goddess.
She shrugged and her heart thumped against her ribcage. She hoped her answer was good enough. "He's a Prince, so it makes sense to uh, sample … the goods … every now and again. I get it. He's entitled or whatever."
Lofn squinted and Darcy's heart hesitated. Crap. She wasn't buying it.
The handmaiden curtly nodded and fiddled with yet another bracelet. "While he is entitled, be assured that his tastes are particular. You fascinate him, Lady Darcy."
Phew.
Any normal, rational woman learning that a deranged criminal was fascinated with her would run screaming to the authorities for protection. Some might take matters into their own hands and retaliate against such a beast.
And then there was Darcy Lewis.
Despite all of his games and tricks, he though her desirable somehow. If that was even the tiniest bit true, she would make him writhe in her hands.
Darcy did not dwell on the grand fucked up scheme of things. She filled her thoughts with something more pleasurable. Like making that high and mighty Asgardian boy crawl around on all fours and beg for a taste of her skin. Then maybe she would grant him a lick. A small nip if he was a really, really good boy.
Oh, yes. This was perfect.
Darcy felt electric. She buzzed with energy and excitement. Maybe that preposterous plan would actually work! Nobody was going to notice her—nobody was going to suspect mousy Miss Darcy sneaking and screwing around. Who knows? If anyone found out, they might give her a medal of courage for unthawing Loki. Ladies and Gentleman of Asgard, the winner of the Magic Healing Pussy Award goes to—!
Whoa. Slow down, girl. Was this from that hot apple drink? Damn, it could cure a hangover in mere seconds. That miracle juice could have saved her ass so many times. Unless it was laced with some kind of outer space speed—
Sjöfn cleared her throat and motioned toward a large, floor-length mirror embellished with diamond accents. "May I have your approval, Lady Darcy?"
During her self-absorbed resurgence, Darcy had apparently missed the exchange of handmaidens. She peered around her bedchambers but the dark-skinned woman was absent. She hoped Lofn did not disclose any additional steps to their plan—or change it. Darcy sighed. She really needed to learn to say NO to Asgardian drinks.
"Yeah, of course," Darcy said and bunched up the light, flowy fabric of her dress.
"Everything must be perfect," Sjöfn bowed her head. "I would hate to cause you any further disappointment."
"What?" Darcy stood and strolled to the mirror. "Come on, none of this was your fault. You didn't know what would happen."
The handmaiden kept her head down, but Darcy caught a wince between the strands of curly hair that tumbled over her face. Her eyes were glassy and distant. Darcy's heart contracted.
"Please, don't beat yourself up—"
After stealing her first sideways glance in the mirror, all of Darcy's words left her mouth. She turned and stared at the person reflecting back.
Her skin glowed. Her shiny hair appeared to have flecks of gold locked in each tendril. Her cheeks were flushed a bright, healthy pink. Her plump lips glistened with some unknown sheen.
She scanned this woman in the mirror. Her neck was accentuated with a collar of silver and sapphire. Beneath her prominent collarbones a cerulean gown blossomed. The fabric embraced her body and formed a puddle at her feet.
Darcy inched closer and touched her reflection for confirmation. Silver bangles jingled and glittered down her arm. The same bracelets Lofn spun around her arms with precision and care. This person was her.
She could not contain her laughter.
Sjöfn raised her head and frowned, "Lady Darcy, I apologize. You think yourself a joke. We do not have sufficient time to change much other than your hair. Please, return to your seat and I will make haste."
"No, I'm good. Great, actually," Darcy smiled and watched the mirror mimic her movements. "My God, Sjöfn. Is this really me?"
"Do not fool yourself, Darcy Lewis," A bellowing, throaty voice answered, "Lady Eir's elixir is the primary culprit of your transformation."
Sjöfn whirled into a low bow and remained silent. Darcy bristled and stared at the King reflecting in the mirror. What was he doing here?
"What do I owe the pleasure, your majesty?" Darcy asked. The fine hairs on her neck stiffened as he approached.
"I will be your escort. Tonight we will dine with the Queen, Thor, and …" He paused and seemed to settle on some suitable words. "Your friend, Jane."
"Oh," Darcy said and turned to face him, "I thought maybe Sjöfn would do that."
"No," Odin clipped and the handmaiden flinched. "She has other duties. I do, however, appreciate your concern that this task is not one for a King. But you and I must share some quiet words."
Oh, shit. Darcy thought and swallowed hard. That did not sound good. What does this pompous buttwipe need to talk to me about?
Would she need to A) cough up the money for those diamond-encrusted drapes she ruined, B) kiss ass for telling Sif to—politely—piss off, or C) apologize to all of Asgard for going into a drug-induced coma and throwing off their groove for a few days.
"Come," He commanded and extended a golden plated arm to Darcy.
His weathered, stern features indicated even a brief pause on her part would be erroneous. Darcy guessed anything against his decree would meet similar disapproval—or worse. She had no intention of being at the end of an executioner's axe.
Darcy parted her lips and strained a smile. Odin merely stared. She teetered under his intense gaze. A small, impatient exhalation passed his lips.
Oh, this was going to be just fantastic. She wondered how many more awkward conversations and acts of clumsiness would demote her to jackass status. She might as well start practicing donkey brays now.
Darcy lifted the train of her dress and prayed it would reduce at least half of her potential screw-ups. She imagined her sandal catching just right, tearing her dress, and exposing herself to the entire kingdom. Poor Jane would wither and die on the spot. But an accidental full-frontal would be small change compared to if Jane ever found out what Darcy really thought of Loki.
She straightened and sauntered into the gilded hallway. The golden architecture was enveloped with long crimson tapestries. Wall torches sparked to life with white flames. In the distance, a harpist plucked a wispy melody. Darcy noticed the palace guards stiffen as the King exited. Odin certainly had a way of making everyone feel tense. It was unsettling.
Sjöfn wrapped her arms around the elaborate oak doors. Before they clicked shut, Darcy glimpsed her mouth two distinct words: Good luck.
Darcy stared wide-eyed at the closed doors. Because that just didn't scream ominous! Whatever Odin wanted to discuss, Sjöfn already knew it would be so much more than unpleasant. A little warning would have been nice! She made a mental note to scowl at Sjöfn for a good 30 seconds. No way were her doe-eyes or puppy-dog frown making Darcy break.
She strode by the King in silence, making sure to keep his pace and tread softly. She had a horrible habit of letting sandals thwack loudly against her heels. And in this palace, those slapping echoes would try the patience of anyone. Present company most of all.
Odin spoke without breaking a step. "Midgardians. Curious, captivating race. Always tempting death with outstretched arms."
Ooo-kay. Darcy didn't know if that was meant as a compliment, insult, or random as hell conversation starter. Was this the Asgardian equivalent of small talk?
It seemed rude not to acknowledge him. And poor form to not agree. Darcy decided on something non-committal. "I guess we are pretty strange."
"Strange. Yes. That is fitting." He mused aloud and turned a sharp corner. "Perhaps you can explain to me another oddity."
"I'll do my best," Darcy furrowed her brows. He was stalling. Maybe on purpose to sniff out her anxiety. She gripped the fabric of her dress tight, as if it would give her some leverage.
"Why an Asgaridan would be captivated by a thing meant to be fleeting?"
A thing? Was this what the King thought of Midgardian women? It made her stomach curdle. What a backwards asshat! What was wrong with two people, regardless of their intergalactic race or status—
Oh, fuck. Darcy panicked. He knows about us. And now he wants a reason. Shit, I don't even have one! Sorry, your highness, your adopted son is kind of a freak? And I probably am too, because I kinda like it? Come on, Darce. Think of something—something that won't get you a ticket to the stocks.
"Well," Darcy exhaled. "People express affection in weird ways—"
"Affection, fondness, love—it offers no protection," Odin bristled and clicked his teeth. "Asgard is a fickle wife. She does not fare well with competition."
Darcy scrunched her nose. What did her and Loki have to do with 'being in a relationship' with Asgard? Pirate Santa needed to cut the fluff and get to the point. She was tired of this cryptic crap.
"You will assist Jane Foster in understanding this matter. There will be no more distractions for the future King of Asgard."
Oh hell to the no. Darcy could not go back to months of mascara-stained cheeks, buying Kleenex and chocolate in bulk, and wracking sobs at 2:00am. She would not destroy Jane like that. She could not do that to her best friend.
"You want me to tell Jane to break-up with Thor? No way. Do it yourself."
"You are her friend," The King said. "This would be more humane coming from you."
"I can't do that," Darcy paused before gold and ivory columns. A warm breeze caressed her cheek. She turned toward shouts of her name.
In the same courtyard she had witnessed her friends in the throes of wild passion, was a long wooden table flanked with servants. A kaleidoscope of fruit, bread, and wine spanned the table. A large boar with a shiny, golden apple wedged in its mouth stared at her with empty eyes. Fruity Robin Hood was smiling next to the beast. His chest swelled and two women fawned over him. One gripped his flexed arm and squealed.
Just like dogs in heat, Darcy thought. She wondered if she looked that desperate around a certain Asgardian war-criminal.
The exclamations were louder now. Jane scurried from her seat, a flurry of gray and rosy fabric, and rushed for Darcy. The Queen remained seated, but ushered for Darcy and Odin to join the festivities.
"I gathered some resistance would be met," Odin outstretched the crook of his arm. "Hence why this gathering serves more than one purpose."
Darcy placed her arm through his and walked. What was that supposed to mean? Odin led them from the open terrace to the exorbitant fountain. He disengaged once the peppy scientist was within arm's reach. Jane did a quick bow before the King, which was disregarded by his majesty, and wrapped herself around Darcy.
"Hi," Jane mumbled into her hair, "I'm so happy you're here."
"Ditto," She hugged back. Darcy observed Odin pass a wave of bowing handmaidens and approach the Queen. Frigga smiled and gestured to a grand wooden throne accented with wildflowers. But after a few words left his mouth, she faltered.
Jane took Darcy's hands and regarded her. "You look beautiful."
"Yeah," Darcy responded.
Jane could have told her she looked like a painted pig whore. She could have told her damn near anything. She was fixated on the royals. As Odin continued to speak, the color drained from his Queen. She said nothing, but merely nodded once.
"I don't think I can wait until Thor announces the news, Darcy," Jane bubbled on, unaware that Darcy was eons away.
"News," Darcy parroted. She watched the Queen smile, resume composure, and act completely unfazed. Like a bomb was never dropped in her lap. Like the seconds before never happened. What the hell was going on?
"Well, Thor comforted me—a lot—when you were comatose. We thought you were going to die. And we wanted to feel alive. I, uh, also forgot to pack contraceptives. In hindsight, I should have done the injection before we left."
W. H. A. T.
Darcy grabbed her by the upper arms. "This had better be a fucking joke, Jane."
"No," Jane shook out of her grasp. "I wouldn't joke about our child."
Our child. Oh, dear God. Darcy clenched her teeth, praying it would keep her temper at bay. "I distinctly remember a certain someone telling me to behave. Does that rule not apply to you?"
Wanting one little romp in the sheets with Loki didn't seem so horrible all of a sudden. It would never be a permanently, devastatingly life-changing mistake. There was no way Darcy would be that stupid.
"I was scared, Darcy," Jane stumbled and choked on her words. "I still am."
Darcy winced. She was horrible with tears. "Are you sure it isn't just, uh, gas?"
And decidedly worse at adding humor to a humorless situation.
"What?" Jane sniffled and placed a trembling hand on her stomach. "No. An Asgardian fetus grows at an accelerated rate. Thor thinks I'm a few weeks along already."
"Oh, marvelous," That thick, honeyed voice responded. "Does Odin know of your condition?"
Darcy froze. There was no way to escape him. She would be tormented forever by hallucinations and his liquid sex voice. She was ready to resign to a life of perpetual arousal but, Jane acknowledged her delusion.
Jane folded her arms across her chest. "This does not concern you, Loki."
Darcy turned her head and blinked. Twice. There, in heavy silver chains and attached to two guards, was the infamous Prince Loki. He was not as well-groomed as those previous holograms. His face was hollow and worn. His hair was a black, tangled web. He looked exhausted.
"Forgive my appearance," He ignored Jane and focused on Darcy. "My invitation to this celebration was impromptu—and I assume not without some form of personal humiliation."
"Is that all you have to say?" Darcy placed her hands on her hips. She rolled her fingers over the silky fabric of her gown. There was no way he was getting off that easy.
Loki squinted and shifted his body. The weight of the chains clinked with his movements. He seemed confused. "What more is there?"
"Are you serious right now? Don't act like you have no fucking idea what I'm talking about." Darcy tapped her fingers against his chest. He was pissing her off on purpose.
She did it for the sake of intimidation. To drive her point home. That he was responsible for her almost dying. And that he needed to cough up some pretty good answers. In her blinding anger, she forgot Loki was not some loser she met that evening at a dive bar. He wasn't a shithead frat boy. He was a God.
The rattling chains were not enough warning. The strain and shouts from the guards was not enough either. Nor was Jane attempting to pull her back. He clacked his white teeth mere inches from her face.
"Mortal," He growled. "It is no fault but your own to make assumptions and be so trusting of every creature that lurks these halls."
That should have been enough for her to stand down. But she burned inside. And her fire needed release.
"Nice!" Darcy spat. "You make it sound like almost dying was my fault!"
The ground and sky rumbled. A crack of thunder and flash of white light illuminated his dark features. Loki's face and neck contorted in monstrous ways. As he struggled in his chains, the veins on his skull bulged. His nostrils flared. And his jade eyes were unforgiving and cold.
"You were on the borders of Valhalla. You escaped Hel. You would have perished were it not for me!"
"What are you babbling about?" Darcy raised her arms and shook her fists. "You didn't do a damn thing but screw with me!"
"I saved your worthless, meaningless existence!" Loki shouted and lunged for her.
The next few moments were snapshots in time. Loki grabbed and broke some bangles from her wrist. Jane shouted something imperceptible to the darkening sky. Thor's descending red cape blocked her vision. Another brilliant flash of white light assaulted her eyes. And then, Loki squirmed on the ground with Myuh-Myuh planted on his chest.
Once the sharp-pitched ringing in her ears faded, it was replaced with roaring orders from the King. The Queen strode in silence beside him. She seemed pained.
"Enough!" Odin commanded and stood above Loki. "You will cause no further disgrace on this eve of the future King's betrothal."
Loki smirked and laughed. He sucked in a breath and winced from the weight of Thor's hammer. "What a peculiar way to acknowledge my reign over Asgard. Ah, no matter. Whom shall I call wife, Odin?"
Sif barged through the crowd and unsheathed her sword. The tip fell at the crook of Loki's throat. "I am to be Queen."
"Hmm," He mused aloud. "I suppose you will suffice. Your frame does not appear supportive for sons but, perhaps that could still be arranged." He rolled his head to Darcy and winked.
Was he for real? Two seconds ago he wanted to rip her to shreds, and now he was making jokes. But it did not surprise her. The God of Mischief was making his name and intentions well known.
"Vile serpent," Sif snarled. "I would rather die a thousand times over than lay one night with you."
"Fear not, dear Queen," Loki failed at adjusting his body beneath the hammer and sighed. "I will permit you to refuse me. There are others more willing than you."
"Enough of these jests, Loki," Frigga spoke in calm, even tones. She seemed to be treading lightly around her words. She placed her jeweled hand on Thor's shoulder. "Tonight, we celebrate the engagement of Thor and Sif."
Darcy's heart plummeted. And what would happen to Jane? She did not even dare glance at her friend. If she saw any trace of pain—
Thor may have been attempting to be subtle, but it was not in his nature. He spoke loud enough for all present company to hear—and for that Darcy was thankful. She would not have to release her own fiery tongue.
"I do not desire Sif." Thor edged away from his mother. His eyes locked with Jane.
The dark haired warrior's resolve shattered. The sword she had perfectly aligned with Loki's carotid drooped to the ground. Her animated features withered. Fandral attempted to comfort her, but she shoved him away.
Darcy thought Sif must have known. It was so obvious. It was plain to see the love between Jane and Thor, but to hear it as truth must have been devastating for her. And it most certainly showed.
"It matters not if you desire her now," Odin scoffed and made a dismissive wave at Sif. "You have centuries for fondness and other pleasantries. Asgard needs you as King."
"I refuse the crown," Thor snaked through the crowd and stood before Jane. "I serve to protect the interests of Midgard."
"And what of your heritage? What of your people? Do you denounce them all for one, insignificant Midgardian woman?" Odin barked and shook his fist at his son.
"There is more than one, insignificant life he has to worry about," Jane replied and held her stomach with pride.
Loki burst into a jagging fit. Darcy was amazed he remained quiet for this long. His chest heaved and tears spilt from his eyes. "Look on your dysfunctional kingdom, Odin. You will die on your throne—heirless and alone. No matter the choice, me or your beloved Thor, will result in the destruction of Asgard."
With one glance from the King, the guards were slowly dragging Loki from the crowd. Thor interjected to remove his hammer, which produced a great sound of relief from the prisoner. Loki stood and mouthed some words of congratulation to his brother, but they were not well received. Thor followed them, wordlessly, to what Darcy presumed was his cell. As she watched their retreating forms, Darcy frowned.
If Thor stayed with him, she was never going to get any straight answers from Loki. Nor was she going to get any alone time with him. She rubbed her wrist and toyed with the bracelets he mangled. Even after this chaotic display, she still wanted him. She wanted him to break his shackles and wind them around her wrists. She wanted his teeth to graze the nape of her neck. She wanted him to tear her dress open and take her from behind.
It was so utterly fucked up. How could she be thinking of only him, when all of Asgard was falling apart? She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Would he haunt her forever?
A light feathery touch on her arm gave Darcy pause. She hesitantly opened her eyes and saw the warm, reserved smile of Frigga. Darcy scrambled into a sloppy curtsey and waited for a response from the Queen.
"Lady Darcy, please rise," Frigga motioned for her to stand. "How are you faring?"
That was a loaded question. Darcy felt great. Aside from the guilt that she should be mourning the loss of Asgard, or Thor's rejection of Sif, or Jane's insecurity of carrying an illegitimate demi-God—not thinking about fucking her adopted son until he turned frost giant blue.
"I'm as okay as I can be," Darcy shrugged. That wasn't a lie. "How are you?"
The Queen surveyed the party and exhaled silently. It was then Darcy noticed that only the servants were left. They cleared the food and decorations with expedience. Sturdy, well-built men carried chairs and tables into the palace. They worked so quickly. It was as if the celebration never happened.
"As well as can be expected," She mimicked Darcy and turned to the staircase. "Will you walk with me?"
The last time she walked with royalty was nothing short of disastrous. Darcy was in no mood to relive any overt orders to make Jane understand her place—or lack thereof—in Thor's life.
"Look, your majesty," Darcy twirled the bent bracelets on her arms. "The King already talked to me about Jane. I understand that Thor has commitments to Asgard, but he isn't going to let her go. Not in her condition anyway."
The Queen regarded her and spoke in the same tranquil tone from earlier. "Odin may be King, but he cannot force Thor onto the throne. Nor does he have any say in the matters of children. That is my domain. And he would do well to not interfere."
That was comforting, if only somewhat. Darcy would hate for Odin to command Jane to eliminate her little problem so Thor would have no more distractions. She was glad Frigga had control over those circumstances. But what would happen to Asgard?
Darcy thought it impolite to ask about the fate of Asgard. So she accepted the Queen's offer to walk the palace grounds together. Bright standing candelabras and white, twinkling lights from the trees lit their path. They walked at a leisurely pace, Frigga would comment on a statue or flower and its significance to Asgardian culture. Her knowledge was impressive and expansive, Darcy could only marvel at her words.
As they approached a gated orchard, the Queen stopped. She grasped the filigreed handle and said to it, "I am afraid I must ask if you would perform a great task, Lady Darcy."
Oh that figures. Darcy should have known better than to trust a quiet walk through the garden. Shit like that always came with a price. "What do you want me to do?"
"This has moved beyond Thor refusing the crown. He has refused to protect Asgard. He will be banished." Frigga tapped on the cast-iron gates with her fist. She did not divert her gaze from the orchards. "I want you to ensure Asgard has a fair and just King."
"And how do you expect me to convince Thor to rule Asgard?"
Frigga glanced behind her and smiled, "My dear, you know I have more than one son."