Freya awoke disoriented. It was a moment before she realized that she was still in Loki's room—tucked into his bed. She felt a flush creeping into her cheeks. She must have fallen asleep while he read to her.
Loki must think her mad—mad and pathetic. It was a mistake to leap across the balcony. How would she look at him after presuming so much?
She glanced around as she sat up, pulling the blankets tightly around her. Loki was nowhere to be seen. Freya gingerly climbed out of bed and looked around. Just as before, Loki's room was neat as a pin. Not a book lay out of place on the shelves, nor even the blankets at the end of the bed unfolded. On the couch where she lasted remembered sitting lay a dress the gentle blue color of northern ice. It was beautiful, glittering with thousands of tiny crystals. There was a note pinned to it reading, "So you don't have to jump across the balcony."
Freya hesitated a moment and glanced once more around to make sure that she was alone before slipping into the dress. It had been kind of Loki to leave it for her, though she supposed that her leaping from his balcony to hers in broad daylight would have caused him a headache.
She crossed to Loki's mirror and grabbed his hairbrush from where it lay atop his bureau. Her hair was knotted from thrashing about the night before as her nightmares took hold. She must have been such a sight.
She quickly braided her hair back and crossed to the sitting area. She was beginning to wonder where Loki could be. It wasn't like him to be late—in fact, she remembered him once telling her that he reviled that sort of behavior.
Freya glanced around. H had left her the dress, perhaps he had left her a note? She crossed to one of the small, spindly tables at the other end of the room. Sure enough, there was a note. She picked it up, reading it to herself.
"Do the crowns wear the kings, or the kings the crowns? Where will the winter-skinned man go, when he learns that he has not been born of Gold? When his reflection is foreign to the eyes he's kept all his life? Will he be a monster then? Or hold the makings of a king?" Freya repeated the words to herself, her brows furrowing. Underneath was scribbled a few incomplete phrases: "Blood orphans," "someone is lost—again," "passageways."
The last word was thickly underlined, as if in had significant meaning. To Freya, it meant nothing.
"So you're up then," Loki asked from behind her, startling her. She hadn't heard him reappear.
"I thought it was a note," Freya said quickly. "I thought you left a note explaining where you'd gone."
"I did leave a note," Loki said, gesturing to it with his chin. "I figured you'd find it. You were muttering that in your sleep. I haven't made much headway with it yet."
"Oh," Freya said, her brows furrowing. She looked back at the paper with renewed interest. After a few moments more of careful study, she looked back up at him. "Where were you then? You've missed your mathematics lesson. Not that I'm complaining—" she added. It was perhaps her least favorite class.
"You'll find out soon enough," Loki said, a smile playing across his lips. Freya could tell that he'd done something, though she didn't know what. He'd worn the same look after frightening her with his pheasant pies.
Loki crossed to the bedroom. Freya stated rooted to the spot, going over the words Loki had written once more. She vaguely remembered something that felt like a vision from the night before, a dream that felt even more real than her nightmares had felt. She remembered a distinct feeling of desolateness, of agony. She racked her brain, trying to remember, but all that came to her was the now familiar winter scene and the bridge.
That and an intricately patterned blue vase, one that she clutched to her chest as if it were a child. It was intricately patterned in blues and filled with unfamiliar wildflowers. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it.
A loud banging woke her from her reverie. It seemed to shake even the floorboards. Thor knocking, Freya thought distastefully. Surely he didn't have to shake the whole castle.
"Would you mind getting that?" Loki asked from the other room. Freya crossed to the door without comment.
No sooner had she unlocked the door and turned the handle did it swing forth with dizzying speed. Freya leapt back just in time to dodge being flattened by it.
Thor looked positively furious, his face ruddy with anger. He froze however, when he saw Freya.
"Princess—I'm so sorry to disturb you! I meant to knock on my brother's door," Thor said, looking uncertain. He glanced around as if to check to see if he indeed had barged into the wrong room.
"It is not a problem," Freya replied, giving him a small smile. This must have been the trouble she suspected Loki of. "You do have the right room, in fact, and Loki is in his bedroom."
Thor's brows furrowed as he stared at her. "What are you doing in Loki's chambers Valfreya?"
I was saved answering by Loki's voice, once more drifting from the bedroom. "She was merely trying to rouse me. It seems I've overslept and missed my mathematics lesson."
Loki emerged and leaned lazily on the door frame, surveying Thor with mild interest. He was clad in fine silk pajamas and wore thick black slippers.
"Do not play dumb with me, brother!" Thor shouted, his anger flaring up at the sight of Loki. "I know that it was you!"
"You know what was me?" Loki replied, eyes glinting. He crossed to the couch and sat down, as if he were preparing to see a show. This only incensed Thor further.
"You dishonored Lady Sif!" Thor thundered, the color rising in his cheeks. Freya began to wonder if this level of anger could be physically tolling on him. "You sheared off all of his hair in the night, like a sneak thief!"
"Oh, keep shouting. Please brother. I'm sure that the only thing Lady Freya requires is to be deafened by you on this morn. Surely that will make her giddy with girlish glee."
"DON'T YOU—" Thor broke off, shot Freya a look and lowered his voice. "Don't you try to play this off brother. She won't even leave her chambers, she is so filled with shame."
"What a tragedy," Loki said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He began absent-mindedly picking at his fingernails. "What ever will I do without the pleasure of Sif's company?"
"You have done wrong, brother! And I expect you to set it right!" Thor thundered. His eyes flashed dangerously and he spun on his heel to leave. He paused and turned back to Freya.
"I am sorry that you had to see me like that, my Lady," he said sincerely, his head bowing. "But I cannot stand for one who is dear to me to be treated so cruelly."
"You need not apologize to me," I said lightly. Thor nodded and left Loki's apartments, closing the door perhaps a little harder than necessary.
Freya turned to Loki, her face impassive. "So that's what you were up to this morning?"
"Occasionally people need to be taken down a peg. She needed to lean the consequences of her cruel words."
Freya surveyed him evenly for a moment. "Did you really shear off all of her hair?"
Loki nodded, surveying her. Freya turned so that he wasn't able to see her face. She couldn't help it, the thought made her laugh. She tried to hold herself perfectly still, so that he couldn't see the silent laughter that was shaking her.
After a moment, Loki spoke, "You can turn around now. I'm not afraid of your sharp words."
Freya turned in confusion, one hand covering her grin. "What?"
"It's quite plain to see that you disagree. Well then, let's get it over then. Why shouldn't I have sheared Sif's hair off?"
Freya lost it. She doubled over laughing, the whole thing made funnier by Loki's disgruntled expression. It was minutes before she could herself once more.
"That was mean," she said, still laughing. She wiped underneath her eyes. She hadn't realized that there were tears of mirth running down her face. "But so am I, for laughing. Norns—she must have been so angry."
Loki stared at her for a moment. It was as if he were gaging her to see if she was being serious. Or perhaps he wasn't used to anyone laughing at his jokes. Freya tried to rearrange her face into something resembling neutrality.
It wasn't as if the prank itself was funny. It wasn't. However, it was clever. What was the one thing that Sif favored most? Freya could still see her flipping her golden ponytail around derisively. It was nearly poetic.
Then, on top of that, Freya had learned the value Asgardians placed on their hair. Long hair was seen to be a sign of nobility and honor. And chastity. Which merely added insult to injury in Sif's case. Everyone would see her shorn lockes and believe her to have shamed herself and gotten caught. Which was probably why Thor had been so angry. She wasn't sure, of course, but she thought that there was perhaps something there between them. Or that Sif wished it so.
"Well," Loki said finally, his face scrunched in confusion. "I was not expecting anyone else to think that was funny."
"That is because everyone else likes Sif," Freya said plainly. Loki stared at her.
"What?" she asked, taking a step back.
"You speak so plainly," he said, brows still furrowed. Freya bowed her head.
"I know, I'm sorry. I should be learning to control my tongue—"
"That's not what I meant. I meant that it was refreshing to hear someone speak their mind so."
"What do you mean? Thor just spoke his mind so loudly that I feared the windows might break."
Loki surveyed her shrewdly. "Fine then. It is refreshing to hear a mind spoken that resembles my own."
Freya was about to respond when there was another set of knocks on the door, this time more polite. Loki crossed to the door, sighing heavily.
A guard stood outside, impassive and clad in golden armor.
"Yes," Loki said shortly, leaning on the door frame.
"The Allfather has summoned you to the throne room."
Loki nodded and dismissed the guard with a wave of his hand before turning back to Freya. "Would you like to see what this bit of fun has cost me?"
Freya rolled her eyes and followed him, shaking her head. She doubted very much that the Allfather would do anything drastic to Loki. He was, after all, a son of Odin.