Chapter 5
With trepidation, Sif opened the door, making it creak ever so soundly in the quiet night. She gazed around the small bedroom, feeling her lungs fill with the stuffiness that hung like smoke from incense sticks. Never more Darcy allowed the maids to enter her room for fear they would disclose – by accident or unquenched curiosity – her secret; and so, the small space was filled with mountains of discarded robes, glasses with lingering drops of dust-filled water, and the thick and sweet scent of decaying flowers, and then, in a corner, propped against the wall, stood Loki's helmet.
She closed the door behind her, and the girl was startled, her silhouette stirring behind the white veils that hung from the bed posts. At seeing it was just Sif, Darcy sighed, letting herself collapse back on the bed. Another month had passed, and the excuse of a sickness could work for so long before they would start to worry about her.
"You must leave this room, Darcy. It is not healthy," Sif said, not helping a sneer from showing on her face as she stood on the only clear patch of wood on the floor; every other surface seemed covered by clothes or cutlery.
"This is a fucking mess," Darcy said, crawling on her knees to leave the bed. "I'm in so much deep shit. So, so deep I doubt even a crane could pull me out of this pit of shit. I'm dead and covered in it. Forever."
"Have you eaten already?" Sif asked, seeing the girl's hands sliding through the veil to part it.
"Just some porridge," Darcy said, nodding at the wooden bowl containing the sluggish white paste. She walked to the table and gulped the remains of a glass of water. "I can't seem to keep anything down. The smell of the meat… ugh!" She mimicked a shiver.
Sif cocked her head to look at her. Darcy did seem slimmer, but, thankfully, the shimmer and flush on her face quite covered any signs of an illness, would anyone dare wonder.
"Why?" Darcy muttered through clenched teeth, pressing the empty glass against her forehead. "Why the fucking bastard did not tell me I had to use protection?" She slammed the glass back on the table, and put the heels of her hands on both temples.
Sif braced herself for another one of her ramblings.
"You know how different species can't mate, right?" Darcy opened her eyes as wide as possible, gesturing with her open palms. "Like dogs can't mate with cats because the eggs are not compatible or some bullshit, but this is happening, Sif! This right here!" She placed a hand on her belly – her still somewhat flat belly. "It's like a fucking horse mating with a zebra… or a donkey. Our kid's gonna be a mule. Or a fucking zebroid!"
"And are you certain it is no more than an illness?" Sif asked, trying to cheer her up by considering the possibility that it was all a mistake.
"Yes!" Darcy shouted, sticking out her jaw more than necessary. "It's been more than two months, and no signs of my period. And you see this? See this glow and flush?" She gestured to her face.
"You look quite well," Sif added, her voice lowering to avoid irritating the girl any more by seeming defying instead of encouraging.
"Exactly!" Darcy grunted in frustration. "I look fucking hot. Just like my grandma told me I would if I ever got pregnant. My skin is fucking flawless. Why is this happening to me?" She sat on the edge of the bed, arms falling limply on her lap. "I can't be a mother at 23."
"I was under the impression you were older."
"I lied to Odin." Darcy batted her hand dismissively. "I thought he wouldn't be cool with his son banging a college student." Darcy's scowl slowly turned upside down, her body shaking with a laughter that was starting to bubble up at the back of her throat. She soon erupted into a full cackle. Sif took a couple of steps back. "I guess it doesn't make a difference because Loki's one thousand years old, and now we're having a fucking kid. Oh, man." She dried some tears of laughter with her thumb.
Tired of telling her that everything would be alright and getting yelled at in response, Sif changed the subject. "Why do you keep his helmet?"
"Oh, the horns?" Darcy pointed at them. "He just… left them." She scowled, losing herself in a train of thought that Sif hated to have some notion of. "Is it completely pathetic to admit I sometimes hug them when I go to sleep? Sometimes, they seem to… vibrate."
By staring into Darcy's profile, Sif noticed something in her that was unsettling and wrong. The girl did not look like a mortal; she had a certain ethereal quality that she remembered not seeing in another human. She looked carved out in the most pristine wax, and then covered in fine powder, and, sitting still as a statue, she looked unreal. She wondered whether Loki did not feed her one of Idunn's apples, disregarding the rules entirely. Darcy then turned to look at her, smiling, her skin wrinkling with the gesture, destroying the illusion. Sif felt her shoulders slump, letting down her guard.
Resolute in getting the girl out of that room, Sif paid her another visit the next morning. She wished she'd have waited until Darcy had dressed for herself, because, as expected, it was Sif's duty to help her choose a robe that would disguise any noticeable swell on the girl's belly.
Darcy was a master herself at hiding undesired contours – or the muffing top, as she called it. She dressed in a flowing dress, explaining to Sif the paramount importance of drawing attention to her breasts, so they would not notice any change under her waistline.
"Okay." Darcy sighed, batting her hands as to get ready. "Can you notice?" She stood sideways, putting her hands on her hips, pulling at the dress to tighten it against her form.
"No, Darcy," Sif said, her mind escaping to the delightful daydreams of a good battle.
"Don't you dare lie to me or I'm going to destroy you." Her anger seemed so easily aroused in her state.
"You can see but a slight swell, which can be easily attributed to the manner you stand." Yes, Darcy was sticking out her belly, and slouching.
Volstagg greeted Darcy with joy, expressing with loud exclamations how radiant she looked. Fandral agreed, and even Hogun the Grim looked less grim when looking at her.
"No. Fuck my life," Darcy whispered to herself, letting Sif take her by the shoulders to steer her outside.
As strange as it was, Darcy could not think of herself as pregnant. It was a concept that she hadn't been able to grasp. She scoffed at the idea of her belly growing until she could no longer see her own feet. The whole idea, it was foreign. It was one those situations that, until experienced at first hand, it was easily shaped and denominated, but now that she was the one going through it, it was like she was inventing it anew by living it.
"It is going to be fine," Sif repeated in a singsong voice, noticing her worried expression, and pushed her to sit under a tree.
They no longer stopped to stare at the mortal. In fear of retaliation by the son of Odin, they merely looked at her from the corners of their eyes, not once pausing or slowing their marches. It was a terrible thing to behold such a fragile creature under the protection of those highest than anyone. Her presence inspired rumors surrounding Midgardians; no more they were regarded as feeble or small, but cunning and in possession of a magic so great they were capable of enchanting gods themselves. They would not look at her for fear of losing their wills to her ways.
But one dared approach Darcy, breaking into the imaginary frontier that they kept around her. It was one equal to the rest, but with a purpose that would change everything. Tall, lean, blond and blue-eyed, she approached Darcy, waltzing with elegance until she stood, covering the sun.
Darcy opened her eyes, having felt the drop of temperature when the sunlight no longer hit her skin. She blinked, squinting to make out the figure darkened by the luminous background.
"Yes?" Darcy asked, pulling at her skirt, fearing her secret had been discovered.
She smiled, and spoke with a soft, melodious voice, one that was meant to drip poison with its kindness. "It is the concubine of the Prince of Lies that I gaze upon, sat by the shadow of a tree, not yet accustomed to quit the darkness of deception in which you and your lover dwell?"
Darcy blinked, stilling completely. She opened her mouth, but found that she could not say anything. The goddess mocked the girl's perplexity with a rich and clear laugh. She walked to stand by Darcy's side, a pause in her movements as if expecting to make a great revelation. Darcy merely scowled, not recognizing the strange face.
The hate in her voice was less guarded then, meant to hurt the ignorant girl. "I know of this farcical alliance that he intends to pass as charity. Your life mayhap was returned to you as a present from Loki Laufeyson, but you will always act in accordance to his whims. Heed my words, mortal. He shall keep you until the tides of providence turn, ousting him from the silver pedestal on which Odin insists on placing him. With scurrilous lies he humiliated me, I, who used to share his bed, a claim that I own with cringing regret. But now, he shall pay for his subterfuges and tricks, for he stands at a precipice carved out by his hurtful and evil deeds. He shall fall again, ridding us of his seductive manipulation."
Darcy said nothing still, numb from the impression, and the woman took to a kinder tone. "Reap the benefits of your alliance, mortal, and exhaust your enchants. Flee Asgard while you remain in the king's favor, while the son of Odin is willing to deliver you to Midgard, for the Prince of Lies will never return."
The goddess left and Darcy kept her gaze glued to the woman's back until her figure entered the river of Æsir, blending and disappearing. Her mind blank, a buzz replaced the void left by her absent thoughts, like the irritating fly of a mosquito, increasing until it reached a sudden bang, freeing her from her trance. She scrambled to her feet and ran, a hand pressed against her belly.
They laughed and drank, but stopped when Darcy entered, gasping, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath between coughs.
"What ails you, Darcy?" Thor asked, his smile twitching at the abrupt impression. "I daresay you had not being able to shake that illness yet."
"A woman…" Darcy breathed out. She swallowed, trying to alleviate the dryness in her throat. "In the garden... Loki's…"
"What now?" Thor roared, slamming his fist on the table to stand. "What has my brother done now?"
During the pause in which Darcy struggled to gulp as much air as possible, Sif tensed, dreading a possible confession from the girl. All of Asgard would shake under Thor's wrath if he was to find out about the child in Darcy's womb.
When Darcy had explained what had happened, Sif let out a sigh, and laughed along Thor and Fandral, determined to match their volume as to not attract suspicion.
"She speaks from anger, Darcy," Thor said, sitting down once more.
"It should not surprise you that Loki has tricked thousands," Fandral said. "And no one as resentful as Sigyn, for he made no use of his magic to make her love him."
"Sigyn was to become Loki's wife," Sif explained, seeing Darcy's expression of shock. "She was to marry another, but Loki tricked her, posed as her would-be husband. Odin prevented the whole ordeal, but she loved Loki. She still does. Her loyalty and devotion were rewarded with contempt and derision from his part. Of course she wants to frighten you in hopes that it will drive you away from him."
"It was a mere jest," Thor pointed out, in a tone far more cheerful than Sif's. "It has been thousands of years."
"No, you don't get it." Darcy felt that convincing the drunken god was a bigger task now that the first impression was discarded as a desperate attempt from Sigyn to scare her. "She said – Thor, I'm pretty sure she said Loki was dead. 'He will never return,' that's exactly what she said."
The happy ruckus stopped again as her words were heard with more consideration.
"I suppose we could seek Heimdall's advice," Fandral said.
"No!" Thor insisted. "Those were the words of a vengeful woman. She desired nothing more but to make us doubt, and walk into a trap. Loki has the power to shield himself from Heimdall. If something indeed happened to him, something to weaken his magic, Heimdall would have summoned us by now."
As an eerie prophecy, the doors behind Darcy opened and a single guard entered.
"Heimdall demands your presence," said the guard.
Darcy had never seen anyone sobering up that quickly. Thor, Fandral and Sif, they all stood, and marched to leave the room.
Sif squeezed Darcy's shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. "It is probably nothing," she said to comfort the girl, not believing her own words for a second.
Darcy ran to her bedroom, earning some more curious looks from the gods that steered out of her path. She rummaged through her mess, pushing piles of books and clothes, throwing pillows and knocking downs bowls of food. She smiled triumphantly when the glimmer of gold caught her attention from under the bed. She squatted, taking one of the horns to drag their weight near her. She fell on her butt, out of breath, looking at Loki's helmet.
The hum seemed clearer, visible in ripples that distorted the air around it.
A hand placed on Darcy's shoulder, and she started, and crawled on the floor away from the intruder.
"What is it?" Sif asked, looking down at the girl cowering next to the bed and holding the helmet possessively. "Are you alright, Darcy?"
Darcy nodded, wiping the sweat on her upper lip with her hand. "I was right? Tell me." Sif's softening expression was all the answer she needed. "So he's dead? That's it. He's dead, just like that."
"No," Sif exclaimed, smiling.
Darcy pushed out all the air from her lungs. She felt a bit dizzy. She let go of the helmet and went to pick herself up. Sif's hand shot out immediately to grab her by the elbow, helping her.
"That's good," Darcy said happily. "In order to kill him for what he did, he needed to be alive, so… That's good. That's fantastic!"
"Not entirely," Sif said, her smile gone. Still grabbing Darcy's elbow, she pushed slightly to make her sit on the bed. "Thor's conclusions were not completely wrong. Something did happen to Loki, something to weaken his magic. I am afraid Hela might have bested him, Darcy. Thor wishes to depart, and search for him. He will refuse, but we will come with him. What can be done will be done to save Loki. We embark at dawn, and no, you can't come with us," she said when Darcy opened her mouth. "The cold will kill you. I am afraid you will have to wait longer."
Darcy nodded, resigned, and Sif should have known her to be more stubborn. Though it was hard to imagine anyone so reckless as to completely ignore her own weakness and offer themselves to death with so little thought. She was aware of Darcy's impulsive nature, but would have never suspected her capable of making her biggest mistake yet.
Darcy was not thinking when, using the opportunity of night, she scurried inside the vessel that was to take them to Niflheim. The life in the gold and the sound that came from it were like a siren song that lured her to a trap. She hid in the lower deck, curling on the wooden floor as she held the helmet. She felt no fear and no doubt then. It spoke to her, and it was clear, too clear to try to tell anyone without sounding completely out of her mind. It was the path that he had paved for her.
Sorry for the short chapters. Next one will be longer, I promise, and filled with more goodies and Loki. But it won't be pretty. It'll be ugly and full of pain and that.
R&R~