The morning was stormy and gray, and the heavy trees that stood around her hall stretched their sharp limbs like black lightning towards the sky. Angrboða dined on fish bones and fresh nightshade berries while across from her Loki broke his fast with grilled herring and porridge. He looked better; more like the imperious youth she'd watched in her diamond mirror, and Angrboða was sure he'd spent the night considering ways to trick the Singasteinn from her.
The thought amused her greatly. Clearly Frigga had not consulted the Verðandi when she first received Laufey's son, and thus Loki himself had no knowledge of his role in the fate of the Nine Realms. Or perhaps Frigga had and had kept the terrible truth to herself, unwilling to inflict it on the child she favored. Either way, Angrboða sensed it would be an interesting day.
When the meal was done, she rose, leaving the badgers to clear the table. In a show of manners worthy of a prince, Loki gave her his arm, and they walked outside, to the stable. Her chariot stood waiting, hulking, bad-tempered polar bears in the harnesses. Their eyes glowed red in the overcast light. Angrboða allowed Loki to help her up, and took the reins, wrapping the leather straps around her hands as he climbed in behind her.
"To the sea," she ordered, smiling, snapping the leather straps. The bears ran, pulling the chariot at hellish speed, shooting out over the fallen snow in a blur. She sensed Loki behind her, gripping the sides of the chariot and heard his quick gasp as it became clear after a few minutes that they were heading towards cliffs just beyond the forest. The scent of brine filled the air.
"Put your arms around me, little prince!" Angrboða called over her shoulder to him. He did just at the chariot sailed over the edge, the bears diving into the angry grey seas below. Angrboða felt him cling to her, and when the chariot hit the waves, it slowed enough to make Loki's body slam against hers.
Bubbles filled her vision for a moment, but she freed one hand from the reins and waved, clearing them away. The chariot righted, still hitched to the bears, who swam strongly, pulling it under the waves and through the swaying water. Angrboða peeked again over her shoulder, her hair drifting around her and caught wavery sight of Laufey's son looking very white-faced and grim, his grip on her tight.
She reached her free hand into her cleavage and pulled out the Singasteinn, holding it up so he could see its gleam. See? We move through Hafgufa and Lyngbakr's realm easily with this.
I see, came his reply, his gaze as much on her as on the stone. How do I know, though, it's the stone and not your own magic?
Angrboða let go of the reins. She twisted out of Loki's grip and swam up, leaving him and the chariot moving off into the dark depths. It took only a moment for him to realize his danger. Loki pushed himself free of the vehicle and began to swim clumsily towards her, his eyes wide with panic as his leather armor weighed him down. Angrboða drifted, letting him struggle to reach her again; the moment his grip caught her sleeve he relaxed, bubbles tinged with blood rising from his lips.
Do not doubt me, she told him. This test was easy. Try it in the other two realms we shall visit and you will die before you reach me and the stone. Do you understand me, little prince?
He nodded, his dark hair drifting around his pale face, his cold, angry eyes on hers. I do.
Pleased, Angrboða tucked the stone back into her décolleté and sang out a piercing note that vibrated through the deep waters. Within minutes they were back in the chariot rising to the surface and being towed towards a rocky beach. Once there, Angrboða freed the bears, who plunged back into the crashing waves.
Loki stood on the rocky shore, wet and annoyed, too proud to admit he was cold. His pout, Angrboða decided, was enchanting. She stepped over to him and took one icy hand between the two of hers, drying and warming Loki in an instant.
"Better?"
"Yes," he replied, his words brusque. "Are you always so cruel, my lady?"
It was an attempt to distract her, a courtier's tactic and Angrboða cocked her head to look at him. "Yes. You respect cruelty."
He opened his mouth to deny it, to protest that it wasn't true, but Angrboða merely stared at him until Loki closed his lips again. She crossed her arms and managed a small smile. "The freedom to move under the seas is no little magic, son of stone. You know how valuable that would be to one like you who seeks to hide. Shall we continue?"
It wasn't really a question, and she took his hand, looking up into the heavy grey clouds. "Come," Angrboða ordered, and they rose into the sky like two arrows.
-oo00oo-
When she'd shown him that the Singasteinn did indeed give its master the power to live in any realm they'd returned to her hall deep in the Iron-wood. The moon was new, dark behind her veil and Angrboða blew her a kiss when they arrived.
Instead of inviting her guest to dine, Angrboða settled herself in one of the fireside chairs and waited for Loki to come join her. He did, his movements thoughtful, and when they were both seated across from each other once more, he leaned back, a finger to his lips.
"What do you want for the Singasteinn?" Loki asked quietly. This straightforward question hung in the air for a moment. Angrboða let her gaze move over him from head to toe and back again as she thought how to answer his question. Finally she sighed.
"What I want and what must pass are not the same, princeling. Since last night you have been thinking of a way to trick me out of the stone; some way to take it from me without violence if possible, but with if necessary."
She watched him glance away, but wisely say nothing. Angrboða continued. "There is no need for deception, Loki, son of Laufey, prince of Asgard. The Singasteinn is yours in exchange for a year of nights in my bed."
Angrboða had never seen anyone blush so fiercely. The dull red flushed his high cheeks and down his throat, mottling his fair skin in the glow of the fire. Loki tried to regain his composure, clearing his throat to buy time as he shifted in his chair but she spoke first, her voice matter-of-fact. "The fact that you have foaled a stallion does not matter, nor the fact that I am older than you by several centuries. What has been prophesied will come to pass, and between us, we shall destroy the Nine Realms."
It took a while for him to speak, but Angrboða fished the stone out from between her breasts and toyed with it, letting the firelight send sparkles around the hall. When Loki finally managed to get words out, the first were, "R-ragnarok?"
Angrboða nodded. "That will come about through us. The fury, the chaos, and the destruction that will bring the gods down all begin with our get."
"But the legends say—"
"The legends say that a wolf will devour Odin, a serpent will fatally poison Thor, and all who fall in battle will make their way to the underworld ruled by a daughter of two shades," Angrboða interjected. "I know the saga, princeling. The part that has been kept from you is that you will be father to all three. I have no doubt that both Odin and Frigga are well-aware of what must come to pass, and therefore know that your fall from the bifrost has not killed you."
Angrboða bided her time, giving Loki as much as he needed to take in all she had just said. She knew he was adaptable, bright enough to see the better aspects of the agreement, and bitterly vindictive enough now to enjoy the darker ones. The fire burned on, never consuming the piled yew logs, and strange shadows flickered against the walls; images of things that weren't there.
Finally, ages later, Loki drew in a deep breath and let his gaze turn back to her, his stare re-assessing Angrboða. She allowed it, unperturbed by his curiosity and dark interest. In her time watching him in Asgard she'd seen him seduce and abandon a few maidens, practicing his enticing charm in the careless way of young males. He had been no match for his brother's bounty, but Loki was no innocent either, and the scandal of Sleipnir lingered.
Clearly fathering monsters would not unnerve him, Angrboða knew.
She lifted her chin, letting Loki study her features in the firelight, taking a small degree of satisfaction at the dark of his pupils and the way his tongue flicked against his lower lip. "A year of servicing you. Forgive me, but why so long?"
That was the question she had waited for, and Angrboða smiled. It was as sharp as an icicle and still, it gave her beauty. "Because I must catch three times, and my womb must be filled to do so. You are young and virile, but even so, it will take more than a few night's worth of spunk to quicken my belly."
He blushed again. Angrboða rose and moved to Loki, standing between his spread knees, bending over and placing her hands on the arms of his chair. "Take the Singasteinn," she whispered. "The stone is yours."
Loki quickly slipped a hand into her cleavage, and the lingering touch of his cool fingers caressed her even as he slipped the stone from its warm nest. Once it was free, he gripped it tightly, and brought his face closer to hers, his smile touched with unpleasant triumph.
"And now that I have it, what's to stop me from leaving here and never coming back, my lady?" he mocked.
Angrboða let her lips brush his. "Nothing stops you from leaving, my prince, but by my blood-kiss you are bound to return."
"Your—" was as far as he got; Angrboða pressed her mouth to his and let her teeth nip his lower lip. Loki shuddered but did not pull away; he kissed back, and when it ended, Angrboða let her tongue circle her red smile, tasting the salty copper on her mouth. Loki touched his lip and drew his bloody fingers away.
"I have given and taken; you have taken and given. This binds us, Loki, son of Laufey, prince of Asgard," she chuckled.
His face was a study in controlled fury, but under that lay cunning and lust as well, and the green of Loki's eyes glowed like emeralds on fire. "You tricked me," he accused hoarsely.
"I tricked you first, you mean," Angrboða corrected. "Yes. Now come to my bed, princeling."
A stream of remarkably vile profanity flowed from Loki's wounded lips, spilling forth in a menacing rush of anger into the shadowed hall. Angrboða merely waited, reaching one hand to brush back a lock of his raven hair that had fallen across his brow. When he finally wound down his tirade, his rush of his fury finally draining away she cupped his thin face in her hands, tipping it up to meet her eyes.
"I hate you," Loki hissed at her.
"I know," Angrboða replied. "I know."