In Love With The Darkness
Eira quickly returned to her bedchamber, although not to rest, but to pace, thinking hard.
She had not really gained any answers, not really, except that the King apparently believed her to be someone she wasn't. Eir…
The name sent shivers down her spine, and she sat down heavily on the bed. The similarity to her own name made her uneasy. Unfortunately Eira knew nothing of Norse mythology, so she had no way of knowing who she was.
She still needed to confront him further. She could not escape, not yet, and if the way her knees were shaking was any indication, she was still recovering from that strange episode before she had been shot.
Loki would be on guard though. She had not been exactly submissive, had all but told she planned to escape eventually. But if she suddenly submitted, he would be suspicious anyway, so she would need to slowly appear to give in, and keep up her defiance in the meantime, to make him lower his guard.
The thought of giving in made Eira shudder, but it couldn't be helped. It was the only way she would escape him and get back to the resistance, likely after they returned to the capital.
And in the meantime, she would get as many answers from him as possible about this Eir and her strange hallucination in the audience chamber. It could prove useful.
Eira's eyes shut and she winced as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Loki hadn't been wrong when he'd sensed her tiredness. She was exhausted again, both physically and mentally, by their confrontation, and her bed was all too inviting. No point martyring herself, and slowing her recovery, just because she was currently the prisoner of a tyrant. Eira was pragmatic, not stupid.
Removing the long green and brocade robe, she gladly slipped back into bed and closed her eyes, refusing to think about the way he had looked at her, or held her so tightly. No, she wouldn't think about that at all.
Decided and self-assured once more, Eira rose from her bed and idly began to explore her room further, peering into the many jewelled caskets and boxes on her dressing table. She couldn't hold back a gasp when she peered inside, to find what look like a sea of glistening jewels.
Her fingers trembled as they glided over the cool surfaces of intricately made necklaces, bracelets, rings, diadems and earrings. The jewels of a Queen.
Imagining the six women before her, who wore these jewels as Loki's Queen, her brow twisted, and she closed her eyes, feeling ill at the sight of them. She would never wear them.
Suddenly the door opened and Anna walked in with a curtsey. "The King sent me to help you dress, my Queen," she explained. A slight smile lit her face as she spotted the open box in Eira's hand. "Aren't they lovely, my lady? My King had them specially made for you while you were ill."
Shocked, Eira replaced the box as Anna bustled across to a wardrobe, opening it wide.
Anna was too busy to notice the stunned look in Eira's eyes as she drew out a white dress, overlaid with gold brocade, and laid it on the bed. "I've drawn you a bath, my lady, and I think this one will look good on you-"
"Anna," Eira interrupted her suddenly, drawn from her daze. "Are you happy here? Is the King good to you?"
Anna frowned, a quizzical smile on her pretty face. "Of course, my lady. I do what I do, and the King is nothing but kind to me. He gave me work when my parents disowned me because I would not marry the man they wanted me to," she explained. "I know what the resistance say about him, but…I do not see it. Would he be that way if they did not defy him?"
Momentarily Eira was stunned speechless, as the little maid just smiled and curtseyed. "The bathing chamber is just through here, my lady."
Once she was bathed and dressed, Eira sat at her dressing table while Anna hummed a soothing lullaby and dressed her hair. She really didn't want to be pampered and dressed like a doll, but she was still reeling from Anna's words.
It had to be the conditioning, it had to be. Loki's magic working its foul effects. Even if he had helped her, out of genuine care, one good deed did not erase so many centuries of evil.
Eira raised her eyes to her reflection in the mirror and started. Thanks to Anna's skilled fingers, her long hair had been pulled back and pinned away from her face, but left cascading down her back in soft curls. Her skin shone, and the white and gold of the dress only heightened the hazel of her eyes.
The dress Anna had picked out was alluring and beautiful without being overly revealing, the white silk draping her scant curves flawlessly. Like it had been made for her.
It had all been made for her.
Eira's eyes dropped to the boxes of jewels, and she shivered as a familiar throb of pain washed over her, right in her gut.
She was stood in a great, gilded hall, surrounded by men and women, some in flowing robes, others in shining silks.
She was walking away, desperate to get out of the long, elegant but uncomfortable gown and coronet she wore. As she walked away purposefully, she caught the eye of a tall, stately woman in a bejewelled robe, smiling ruefully.
It did nothing to hide the concern in her warm eyes, as she shook her head.
"I will transform you into a princess yet," she called warningly, as the others laughed.
Her name…Eira knew her name…
"Frigg."
"Frigg."
"What did you say?"
Eira's eyes snapped open, as the pain faded, and she realised she had spoken aloud. In the reflection of the mirror, the last person she wanted to see was stood behind her, hands behind his back, draped in dark leather, emerald eyes burning.
Loki.
His expression was almost angry as he stalked forward, and Eira remained still at the dressing table, paralysed by his burning, anguished eyes. She tore free, meeting his gaze defiantly.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, with all the venom she could muster.
"Anna grew alarmed when your eyes closed and you would not respond to her," he replied, stopping behind her. Something, some instinct in Eira's mind, told her it was a bad idea to let him get too close, to stay in such a vulnerable position, but she couldn't move. "She came to fetch me. I am not in the practice of repeating myself, Eira, so I will be do so only once more. What did you say?" he all but snarled, and his hands gripped her shoulders tightly. Almost tight enough to hurt her.
"I said…" Eira didn't try to dissemble. He'd caught her, loud and clear. "Frigg. I said Frigg."
Abruptly the hands caging her shoulders gentled, and the hungry expression in Loki's eyes faded, as he bent over her. Eira could barely breathe from the change, from angry to tender, and she closed her eyes.
His lips feathered the spot where her jaw met her skull, then her ear as she shivered. "Good girl. Now that was not so hard, was it?" he breathed, silkily. Eira saw no reason to pretend any longer.
"Who is she? The woman I saw? Frigg?" she asked, looking away. The name felt so familiar, it was almost frustrating. "She was beautiful."
"Yes. She was," was all Loki said, in a calm, quiet whisper, almost turning away from her, not meeting her eyes.
Intrigued, Eira watched him, but saw he wouldn't say anything else. She straightened her spine, and turned to face him. "If you're thinking you can buy me, it won't succeed," she gestured to the jewels and her dress. His look was swift and sharp, before he simply smirked and chuckled, shaking his head.
"You think I would lower myself to 'buying' you?" he asked, approaching her again, and Eira stiffened, although she tried to remain nonchalant as he drew nearer, her heart pounding against her chest.
"Why else would you do any of this?" she asked, meeting his eye defiantly in the mirror. He laughed, and suddenly he was far too close, surrounding her with his body, as he rested one knee on the stool, and bent over her, his lips at her ear, as he reached for an exquisite diamond necklace.
"Because you are my Queen, and I wish you to be only what you are," he told her, his lips feathering her neck as he drew the cold stones up her collarbone, draping it around her neck and fastening it. He pressed his lips to her clamouring pulse, and Eira couldn't hold in her gasp as she arched slightly at the unlooked-for contact. "You are, finally, what you should always have been. Mine."
To Eira's relief, he stepped away and slowly walked away, lazily taking in the room as Eira stood, watching him carefully for any sign of his next move. The weight of the necklace around her throat reminded her of a chain, or a noose. It was uncomfortable, even as the stones warmed to her skin.
"I had come to inform you, also, that your two conspirators were killed this morning, resisting arrest," he told her coolly, turning to face her as she stared at him, grief and anger burning away the strangely heavy feeling in her chest that their odd conversation had induced. Her neck still burned from his kiss.
"They were twice the men you could ever be," she spat heatedly, folding her arms. Loki merely smiled, and withdrew from his belt, the holster and sheath that had contained her knife.
The knife made to kill him.
"Did your scientists really believe that such a paltry weapon could have killed me?" he asked, holding it up. Eira eyed him glaringly.
"It would have. It's coated with a toxin that not even your stubborn physiognomy would have been immune to," she replied coldly. Loki merely laughed.
"And could you? Kill someone? Even one you revile, as much as you claim to revile me?" he asked, stepping closer, holding out the holster, his expression cool and blank once more, levity gone. Eira glanced to the knife and back, sure he would stop her, or just laugh at her, but his eyes challenged her, and the rage in her heart at the deaths of her colleagues grew too hot. She marched across the room, snatched the knife from its sheath and held it to his neck.
Loki's only response was to tilt his head slightly, revealing more of the pale skin above the collar of his tunic. Eira faltered, despite herself, her breath hitching at being so close to him. She sucked in a breath, and his eyes glinted, as the dizzying scent of him, fresh, almost painfully cold, wreathed her senses and fogged her mind. Familiarity bloomed, making her lower her hand slightly, as he gazed down at her patiently.
"You cannot, not me," he breathed, his gaze dropping to her lips hungrily, as her heart pounded in mingled fear and anticipation. To her horror, she wanted his lips, his kiss.
And that desire, that madness, waxed too strong to deny. Loki's hand came up, tugging down her wrist and the knife, and then his mouth was on hers, hot, urgent and all-consuming. Eira had never kissed any man, never so much as touched a man beyond friendly touches from Peregrine, but she kissed him like she had always kissed him.
Their lips moved together, in concert, and she couldn't fight his arms as they came around her waist, pulling her against him. She moaned, as her hands slid into his long hair, mind blissfully empty as he pushed her back, moving with her, until she felt the soft covers of her bed against her knees. He took her down to the bed, still kissing her, and she him, making Eira gasp at the full weight of him atop her, pressing her against the silken covers, one hand purposefully gliding down her yielding body to her knee, clutching it through her skirts and pulling it up to rest against his hip.
Feeling the hardness of his arousal pressed against her, she shuddered and broke the kiss, forcing in air as she stared up at him, wide-eyed. She flushed when she realised their intimate position, and the way her hands were tangled in his hair. He gazed down at her, almost lovingly, certainly knowingly as he gently rocked his hips against hers, making her gasp.
"I know you are afraid," he murmured tenderly, stroking back her hair from her face, caressing her cheek. "You do not know what is happening to you, or why. I will help you, Eira."
Feeling disgusted with herself, with her loss of control, she rolled over, onto her side, facing away from him, shutting her eyes tightly against bitter tears. But even then, she couldn't escape him, as his arms came around her, and his lips teased her ear.
"Incidentally, my sweetheart," he whispered, holding up one hand in front of her and the knife in the other. With one perfunctory swipe, he cut his palm and Eira stiffened with shock. But to her mingled horror, and relief, the wound closed almost immediately, and when she turned back to look at him, he was hale and healthy still.
The toxin hadn't worked. Or it had never been poisoned at all.
"You were sent here, but not for the purpose you thought," he told her, sitting up and tucking the knife back into its sheath. "Think on that."
Eira was mute as he inclined his head to her and left her room, leaving her staring after him, dumbstruck.
The knife hadn't worked. It would never have worked, it would never have killed him.
Someone had sold her out, manipulated her so she ended up here. In Loki's arms.
She was left even more confused than ever, as she lay back down and curled into the covers, succumbing to weakness, just for a moment, as her body was wracked with longing and self-disgust.
What was going on?