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And that Heather is the best, speediest beta. I love her. Erica is equally wonderful. I also love her.
Thank you so very much for reading. I love you, too.
Part II: In the Dark
Chapter 8: Confession
She waits until after dinner to ask the question.
"So," Eleanor says after returning to the rooms they will thankfully share for the remainder of their time here. Part of her wants to celebrate their great victory, but she can't ignore this whole marriage misconception any longer. "Everyone sure seems to think that we are married. Like really married. Like, so married they are calling me Princess Eleanor."
The smile is gone from his face and then Loki is gone from his seat where they were lounging on the balcony, over to a small table to pour himself a goblet of wine. His jaw is clenched as he drinks, and his annoyance annoys her.
"Why does your family think we're married, Loki?" she asks when he fails to explain. "Why are they calling me Princess Eleanor?"
"Because I referred to you as my wife when discussing logistics for this move with Thor. While still on Midgard," he admits.
His apparent and misplaced anger is beyond Eleanor's understanding.
"Why?" she asks. What seems to Eleanor like a perfectly reasonable inquiry serves to further enrage Loki. He slams down the now empty chalice on the tray before storming back to Eleanor.
When he leans over her, arms caging her in as he grips the back of the sofa, he is every bit the menace, but Eleanor stopped fearing him a long time ago.
This tantrum only serves to irritate her further and she simply tilts her face towards his, awaiting his answer.
"Does the thought displease you so, my dear?" he snaps. "When they call you my wife, do you shiver with disgust?"
Her own anger ebbs because as mean as he might look in this moment, underneath the scowl is her fragile god, so ready to believe he is unwanted.
"Of course not," she replies. "Don't you put words in my mouth."
"I loathe this Midgardian expression," he says with a growl. "I put nothing in your mouth. Not today, anyway."
She cracks a smile, but he continues to scowl.
"Loki," she murmurs, prying a hand off the back of the lounge. "Can you please sit?"
Begrudgingly, he fulfills her request.
"You do not wish to be my wife," he says.
His misery makes her stomach twist.
"It's not that," she says. Once again her God of Intelligence is awfully stupid when it comes to their relationship. "I just don't recall a wedding. Or a proposal. Or any sort of discussion at all."
"You wear my ring."
"Dude, you didn't even ask me about that! I thought it was just a pretty piece of jewelry, not an engagement ring."
Loki scoffs. "I never figured you to be one that places much stock in the petty ceremony and meaningless ritual of a wedding, Eleanor."
"I'm not," she says. "I don't. But, Loki, we've never even talked about getting married."
He sighs heavily.
"Come on, Loki."
"Was our little talk with Odin not reason enough?" he asks. "I would not be permitted to share these quarters with you if we were not wed. This is not Midgard and here the sexual component of our relationship would be taboo. And although I am jailed and a disgrace, I am still a prince and as my wife you have access to the very best care and protection. It is a matter of privilege, Eleanor."
"Okay," she says, studying him intently. "Yeah, that makes sense. Why else?"
"Pardon?"
"What is your other reason for calling me your wife?" she asks.
He blinks at her, the picture of innocence and confusion.
"I have told you my reasoning."
"Bullshit."
He is angry again, up and pacing.
"Tell me your other reason," she says. "I know there is more. You wouldn't have gotten so pissy if it was just a lie to keep me safe."
"You are mistaken."
"Tell me."
"Eleanor—"
"Just tell me, Loki."
"It was a mistake!" he yells, fists clenched at his sides as he abruptly stops pacing. "An error. A slip of my silver tongue that seems to have lost much of its skill since finding you."
"You accidentally called me your wife when talking to Thor?"
He closes his eyes rather than look at her. The pacing slows to a stop and he leans back against the stone railing of the balcony.
"Yes," he says. "Although I should have thought of it before my error as it is the ideal solution to numerous problems. If not for the stress of these last months I most definitely would have thought of it."
Since the little Christmas incident when Loki managed to get a ring on her left hand, he's called her his betrothed in public. She didn't pay him much attention, dismissing his actions as some game he plays with the mortals in their general vicinity. She thought he was just being Loki, but she studies his grimace now and thinks that maybe to her God of Mischief it was real.
If he decided that they were really engaged on Christmas, when did he decide to upgrade their relationship status of married?
"Loki, come on," she says. "How do you accidentally say something like that?"
"It simply occurred, Eleanor. What more do you want from me?"
"All that betrothal talk. It was the real deal, wasn't it?" she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I know not what you mean." He seems to droop as he continues to lean on the railing, as if his shoulders are caving in.
"I thought it was just some weirdo Loki thing, but for you it was real." It should not be this shocking. Like Loki, Eleanor believes if the last six months weren't so stressful she would have figured this out sooner.
"The thought is abhorrent to you," he snaps, resuming his pacing once more. He covers his hurt in anger, but Eleanor knows that her reaction to this is not what he wants or needs. "I will never speak of it again, although I must ask that you attempt to swallow your disgust at the idea when around my mother or any others."
"Loki," she says with a groan, rubbing her hands over her face. "Can you relax? Just come sit next to me and give me a few minutes to get my head around this."
"I would rather stand."
"Fine."
She watches him pace and braids her hair. Marriage is important to him. Eleanor tries to fit this new piece of information into what she already knows about Loki. It is a complicated picture.
"I honestly don't give a shit about being married," Eleanor says.
Loki glares at her.
"But the idea of being your wife does not disgust me, Loki," she continues. "It's pleasant, I suppose. And it does make sense."
"Excellent." He moves to stand before her and Eleanor must lean way back in her seat to see his face. "You are now my wife. Glad we got that sorted."
"What?" she squeaks, clutching her chest. "You can't just declare us married, Loki!"
"Why ever not? You are my wife in all ways that hold any true meaning. I need no Midgardian legal documentation or Asgardian ceremony to make this commitment real."
Until this moment she never thought about getting married. She wants him with her always and has tied her life to his in magical, unbreakable ways. Compared to all that, marriage seems so ordinary, but it obviously holds great importance to the God of Surprises.
In her mind she tests the word husband. The term makes her giddy, but she holds back, needing more.
"I get it, but marriage is a two person deal there, Loki. You do need me to agree. You didn't ask me. That is so annoying. I hate it when you don't ask me things."
"If I asked you could very well say no."
"Fuck," she mutters. His fear of rejection is a palpable weight that sits heavy on Eleanor's shoulders. Even after all this time and all these choices, he still expects her to stop wanting him. "Come here."
This time he follows her request, lowering himself down onto the lounge at her side. She immediately leans over to kiss him.
It is tentative and unsure at first, but she wraps her arms around his neck, needing him to get it. She could easily go on kissing him indefinitely, but far too soon Loki pulls back. He chuckles when he sees her pouting.
"Is that an answer to the question I failed to ask?" he murmurs.
"No."
He bristles and tries to get up, but she pulls him back down. He stares at his hands.
"No! I mean, shit. I'm not expressing myself here. I am willing to consider this whole marriage business, but…" She goes back to braiding her hair. "But I need something first."
"What? A proper proposal? A wedding? This could prove awkward given my family knows us as already married, but I suppose something between the two of us—"
"No," she says. "You're right. I don't care about any of that ceremony but, um. Well. You know."
"I most definitely do not know."
"You have to let me say it." The words seem to burst from her mouth on their own volition. "I can't be married to you if you won't even let me say it."
"Say what?" he snaps.
"I'm not asking you to say it back, but I need you to hear it and believe it. Just once."
It has been over two years since they've argued about this, but it only takes a few seconds for Loki to understand.
"No," he says quietly, putting space between them. He stands again and moving to the railing of the balcony, looking out over the Realm Eternal.
Twice before he's knowingly and purposefully prevented her from making this declaration and she let him get away with it because he is a mess, because he only accepts what he thinks he deserves, but now he calls her his wife and she has to say it before she can consider him her husband.
She should have said it sooner, but he isn't the only mess in this relationship.
"Why not?" she whispers.
"You do not lie, correct?" he asks.
Eleanor nods.
"I'd rather you not start now."
Her frustration mounts and she pulls her hair into a messy bun, taking a moment to calm herself.
"I'm not lying," she insists. She gets up and walks to the railing, needing to see his eyes. "You are."
He makes an angry sound but she gives him no time to respond further.
"You are lying to yourself if you don't think I really, truly love you, Loki, because I do. I love you. Like, a lot."
He closes his eyes and he looks happy, as if the words bring his troubled soul a little peace, but then he crumbles before her, actually sinking to his knees. She's used to these Asgardian dramatics from Thor, but never from her ever-stoic Loki.
She blinks down at him for a few moments, trying to quell her urge to giggle.
"What's this?" she murmurs, tucking a stray chunk of hair behind his ear. "After all this time do you really not trust me to know my own mind? My own heart?"
He opens his mouth and closes it again. He is as frightened and miserable as the morning she told him of her dreams.
"You're scaring me," she says, crouching in front of him. She covers his knees with her hands. "Just tell me."
"You must promise to remain here, safe in the palace," he says. "Leave me alone in these rooms if you must or send me to the white cells, but promise not to leave Asgard. You must be protected, Eleanor."
"I promise. I'm not going anywhere." She won't leave him, but it seems like a waste of time to argue when she fully intends to prove it by being with him every day.
"I am well known as a manipulator," he says.
She gapes at him, having no idea where this is going.
"Since attempting to end this arrangement and upsetting you so thoroughly in the process—"
"You thought about killing me!"
"—I've kept my scheming to a minimum, but for one grand plot."
"Okay," she says, extremely wary now.
He takes a deep breath. "I… I tricked you into loving me."
She stares at him for a moment. "Did you?" she asks, trying not to be amused.
"Yes. To ensure your continued devotion and fidelity. To keep you as mine."
Eleanor fights her grin. "And how exactly did you trick me into loving you?"
He gulps audibly and Eleanor cannot recall ever seeing him look so guilty.
"I was kind to you," he says, hanging his head in shame. "I strove to be the sort of partner you deserve. I thought of your happiness before my own."
It really is very sad, but it is also funny and Eleanor is unable to hold back a snort. His head snaps up and the glare she receives would have most quaking in fear.
"Do you mock my confession?" he demands, his voice a low hiss.
"No," she assures him. Her fingers dig into his knees. "No, I'm sorry." She giggles again.
"Eleanor!"
"Did it ever make you miserable?" She manages to get serious. "Treating me with kindness and respect? Did you hate it?"
"No," he says, blinking at her in confusion. "My mood is typically contingent on your mood. It is nearly impossible to be miserable when you are happy. Unless you are willfully ignoring your own safety, but no, Eleanor, I have not been miserable although I surely deserved to be, given the way I tricked you."
She lets out a giggle and he snarls.
"Sorry!" she grabs at him, prevents him from getting to his feet and stomping off. "Okay, so let me get this straight. You almost lost me, all those years ago, and since then you've tried to be someone who deserves me?"
"Well, yes."
"You've stopped seeking vengeance and power?" she asks.
"Unfortunately."
"You've helped my friends rebuild the bridge you broke and even made it better for them. You built a life with me in a place you hate, taught me magic, and did it all gladly because you want me to be happy?"
A little furrow appears between his brows. "There is little I wouldn't do to ensure your happiness. What of it?"
The delighted chortle that escapes her throat has him attempting to flee again. She crawls into his lap to keep him here with her. He does not relax as Eleanor kisses his temple.
"Oh, sweetheart," she says in his ear, continuing to hug him. "This is no great manipulation. You didn't trick me. We love each other. That's it."
For a moment he freezes before he embraces her fiercely. He wants to believe her, is struggling to believe her, but then he is withdrawing because he just can't.
"Let me up." The traces of panic lace his voice and Eleanor scrambles out of his lap. She follows him to the living room to watch him pace.
"Explain," he demands.
"I make you want to be a better version of yourself," she murmurs, eyes following his movements. "You want to make me happy, want to see me grow and succeed. You treat me with respect and kindness, and being with me makes you happy in turn, makes you whole. Loki, everything you just said is like, the definition of love. You didn't manipulate me into anything. We just love each other."
He scoffs. "I've duped you."
"You've duped yourself," she says, moving to stand in front of him. "You are so wrong. My beautiful God of Wrongness."
When she wraps her arms around his waist, he is still wary, but not so angry or hurt.
"You are completely deluded."
"If by deluded you mean in love, than yeah. Okay. Deluded."
"Eleanor—"
"I love you."
Loki sighs heavily and finally returns her embrace.
"I'm going to make you believe me. I'm going to change your mind," she says.
"Doubtful." His hands tangle in her hair and she closes her eyes. "But I suppose I can do nothing but enjoy watching you try."
"Eleanor, I must ask," Thor says, fiddling with the handle of his huge tankard of ale. "How is Jane? Is she well? Does she miss me still? I am not particularly proud of our last meeting."
They sit in a tented café at the end of the bazaar where they spent the morning shopping, and Eleanor is not pleased that the thunder god is ruining the pristine view with this awkward conversation. It's killing her shopping buzz and ruining the novelty of sitting in the private section of the tent, apparently reserved for royals.
The market was remarkable. She's never been a big shopper, but she delighted in the stunning array of goods for sale. Loki tucked gold into her cloak as he kissed her goodbye, and she spent nearly all of it, thoroughly boring Thor in the process.
Her purchases include a gorgeous hanging sculpture of Yggdrasil, an illustrated history of Midgard that is horribly, hilariously inaccurate, a freaking lute, and a beautifully beaded bag to carry it all in. Thor gallantly insisted on shouldering the thing and Eleanor got a kick out of seeing the Crown Prince walk among the people carrying a green, sparkling purse.
She picked up a few yards of soft green fabric. Sewing is on Frigga's list of princess lessons, and Loki will appreciate the texture of the cloth if she ever manages to get good enough to construct a tunic.
Thor lingered in a hut full of weapons and Eleanor eyed a set of knives for Loki, but Thor put the kibosh on that idea real quick with a muttered "let us not encourage him."
In lieu of weapons, she bought him a journal full of blank pages, thinking he might get tired of constantly reading and decide to write something of his own. She also got him some strange dried fruit and roasted nuts that are apparently a favorite of his, according to Thor.
Eleanor was stared at a lot and she could hear the steady thrum of whispers as she wandered with Thor from stall to stall, but no one bothered her and all the merchants were very polite when she made their purchases.
But they called her Princess and that will never not be fucking weird.
Feet sore and totally exhausted, Eleanor readily agreed to stop for a drink on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the sea.
If she'd considered the possibility that Thor would ask about her best friend, Eleanor would probably have declined, despite the bomb cocktail that she is currently sipping right out of a huge crystal goblet.
"Well?" Thor asks again, doing his best impression of a sad puppy. "Does she miss me?"
Eleanor struggles to lift her giant drink to her lips, but eventually manages a gulp. The cup is the size of her face and she already feels a bit drunk.
"Yeah, she misses you. But mostly she's real pissed."
"She dares to be pissed with me?" he booms. Eleanor rolls her eyes. "She sided with Loki over me. She betrayed the trust of Asgard! Insulted Heimdall by insinuating that his decisions to open the gate are not to be trusted!"
"Okay," Eleanor says. "This is the reason your last conversation crashed and burned. Try to see it from her perspective. You threw a hissy fit when Jane did her job and then you disappeared for a year."
"It did not feel like a year," he mutters.
"And if you really want someone who will blindly follow your every word, then look elsewhere. I thought you liked that she challenges you," Eleanor points out.
"I do."
"Then what the fuck are you doing?"
Thor looks really uncomfortable. He opens his mouth several times, choosing his words carefully.
"Technically speaking, I am your prince, Eleanor. You really should not talk to me in such a way," Thor mutters.
"Dude, what kind of relationship do you want with me? Because if you want me to talk to you like a prince instead of my friend than don't bother asking me about Jane."
"A fair point," Thor says. "But do try to refrain from cursing at me in public."
People are still staring intently and whispering constantly. She shifts around, uncomfortable under their scrutiny, even with the distance between the normal dining area and the table she shares with Thor.
"Fine," Eleanor says, keeping her voice quiet. "So, are you going to answer my question? What are you doing, Thor?"
He sighs heavily. "I do not wish to cause you marital problems," he mutters, hiding in his tankard.
Eleanor just gives him a look and it doesn't take long for the God of Thunder to crack.
"The only reason I can think of for Jane to side with my brother over myself would be if the nature of their relationship changed while I was on Asgard," Thor mutters.
"Well, Loki no longer wants to slaughter Jane where she stands. Does that count?"
Thor scoots closer, whispering in Eleanor's ear. "They are romantically involved."
Eleanor snorts. "Are they?"
"It is the only reasonable explanation."
The future King of Asgard is a complete moron.
"That's what this is all about?" Eleanor says, trying not to laugh. "You threw away all your progress with Loki and left Jane because you decided they were fucking?"
"Eleanor!" He looks around to ensure they were not over heard. It's unlikely, being as they are in some swanky, roped off section of the café. "What did I just say in regards to cursing?"
"I didn't curse at you," she replies. "I just cursed around you. And that theory is just stupid, Thor. Jane sided with Loki because it was the right thing to do. And do you really think Loki could pull off an affair like that without me figuring it out?"
"He is sneaky."
Eleanor laughs. "He can only be so sneaky when it's physically impossible to be more than a couple miles away from me. Plus, Jane is a shit liar and my best friend. Loki might be sneaky, but Jane isn't. Plus, neither of them would ever do that. They would never want too."
"You make me feel foolish."
"That's because you're acting foolish," she says. "You could have easily saved us all a lot of drama, and Jane a lot of heartache, if you talked to me about this before disappearing. And Jane would kill you for thinking she'd do this, for thinking that sex would change her mind about something so important. And Loki is going to be really grossed out."
"You mean to tell him?" Thor looks like a scolded little kid.
"Oh, yeah. Like, the second I get home. This is all very entertaining."
Thor sighs. "Do as you must. But what can I do? To rectify the situation with Jane?"
Eleanor shrugs. "Talk to her, I guess. Say you're sorry. What else can you do?"
"I feared that would be your counsel," mutters Thor.
Eleanor chuckles.
"Have I offended you as well, sister? With my assumption?"
"Eh, sorta. I forgive you, though. You have been carrying around my purse all day."
"Purse!"
His horror has Eleanor giggling into her face-sized drink.
When she gets back to their rooms, Eleanor is happy and Loki struggles not to resent her for it.
He resents his false brother instead, for her outing with Thor was time away from Loki and his prison.
He is a mere four days into his imprisonment. Eleanor's frequent departures are something he will need to accept.
It is also four nights free of Eleanor's dreams or sleepwalking.
She tugs on his tunic as he opens the doors, cheeks flushed and eyes glassy as she pulls him down for a kiss. Along with his resentment, Loki feels such relief that she is safe, that she returns to their shared rooms unscathed.
It is a sensation that plagues him whenever she departs. His worry is twofold.
First, he is convinced that she will one day leave, never to return of her own free will. The fear defies logic as she's proved her devotion countless times, the most recent when she completely dismissed his confessed manipulations as farce. Despite this, he still lives in terror that she will not stay forever.
But even worse, he fears for her safety. With her out of his sight, his mind conjures endless scenarios that end with Eleanor hurt or killed or stolen away, brought to London and consumed by an unknown darkness. Loki would never allow her outside the safety of the palace without Thor at her side.
But she is unharmed now, and happy to see him.
A bit too happy.
"Are you intoxicated?" he asks, breaking the kiss.
"Thor bought me a face-sized drink," she replies, giving Loki another reason to resent the Crowned Oaf.
The Oaf in question is pulling a large beaded bag off his shoulders. It is green and Loki grins at the image of Thor as Eleanor's personal packhorse.
"I apologize, Brother," he says, bowing slightly.
"For buying my wife a face-sized drink?" Loki asks. "Apology not accepted."
"No, no," Thor says, shuffling and looking exceedingly uncomfortable. "My behavior towards you this last Midgardian year has been unjust. Eleanor will explain, but I am sorry."
Loki frowns, unsure what to think or feel of such an odd statement. Apologies from the thunder god are rare and this one feels far too late, but Thor is gone before Loki can ask for an explanation.
Eleanor moves away, sitting on a lounge and reaching for her bag.
"What was that?" he manages, joining her.
"Oh, turns out Thor was such a dick last year because he thought you and Jane were banging."
"Pardon?" He gapes at the back of Eleanor as she turns away from him, rummaging through her bag. "Banging?"
"Yup." She places a book in his lap. "Is this the kind of crap kids learn in school here? I can't read the captions, of course, but if this is supposed to be a serious illustrated history of Midgard it is wrong, wrong, wrong."
Given Thor's accusation, Eleanor is annoyingly unbothered.
The mere thought of Eleanor with another is enough to send Loki into a homicidal rage, but Eleanor sits next to him, flipping through the pages of a picture book, calm and collected.
She truly does hold all the power in this relationship – without taking into account the power of her command – simply because he cares more, he needs more, despite her delusional belief that she loves him.
"And you replied? I take it you do not believe him?" Loki pushes. This is equally humiliating. She knows he would never stray because she knows she holds all the power.
"I told him that he is a moron."
"Are you so sure of the sway you hold over me?" he asks, attempting to disguise his hurt as anger.
Something in his tone has her finally removing her concentration from her purchases to study him instead.
"I am sure that you are with me far too often to have an affair and I'm sure that Jane is a shit liar, unfortunate given who she works for. I'm sure that you still look at Jane like she smells bad and I'm sure that Jane wouldn't have agreed with you if she thought you were wrong about the Bifrost, even if you were giving her a hundred orgasms a day."
Eleanor wrinkles her nose, frowning at the thought and Loki is slightly mollified.
"And until you got all cranky about it, yes, I was sure of your affections but now you're making it seem like a bad thing that I trust you not to cheat on me," she says, pouting at him.
Loki feels a bit foolish. "And did Thor believe you? When you told him that Jane agreed with me based on merit alone?"
Once more, Loki transfers his anger to Thor, where it should have been from the start.
"I think so."
"Good."
She leans over, whispering in his ear. "If you ever touch another, I'll chop off your hands."
Loki grins, laughs, and then kisses her.
"That seems reasonable," Loki agrees. Although desiring another seems unfathomable, he would deserve to lose his hands for sheer stupidity if he ever ruined this, if he ever hurt her in such a way.
Eleanor smiles. "Can I show you what I bought?" she bounces in her seat, as giddy as a child. Her enthusiasm is infectious.
"Of course, my sweet songbird. Tell me, was my coinage well spent?"
"Totally," she says, gesturing to the book still on his lap.
"An outdated history book for children in a language you do not comprehend?"
"The pictures alone are hilarious," Eleanor says, grinning at him expectantly. He does not understand her delight. "Oh, never mind. I'll give it to Jane."
"What else?" he asks.
"Snacks," she says, dropping two neatly packaged bundles in his lap.
"Thor said that these are your favorite. He wouldn't let me buy you a knife. And feel how soft this fabric is."
He does. "Soft."
"I'm going to let your mom teach me how to sew you a tunic."
It seems the focus of Eleanor's shopping was Loki. This pleases him greatly.
"You need not sew if you do not wish too," he says, running the fabric though his fingers.
"Well, it's a princess lesson and princess lessons are mandatory. Plus, it will make your mom happy." She shrugs.
"The happiness of my wife is of greater import than the happiness of my mother."
Eleanor rolls her eyes but does not dispute this claim. "I don't mind. But you have to promise to wear what I make you."
He winces. "Luckily I am a prisoner with no one to impress."
She goes on to show him the rest of her purchases. The bound book of blank pages is something he will most certainly put to good use.
When Eleanor pulls out a beautifully crafted model of Yggdrasil, Loki freezes. The sculpture is made to hang over the crib of an infant. Eleanor holds it up, admiring the branches, and Loki is stunned, thinking of the long ago visions of the Tesseract.
Eleanor is sweaty and happy, a child with blue hair and Eleanor's eyes, banging away at the piano.
They are the single most puzzling and painful possibilities he saw in the Tesseract. Until this moment, some five years later, Loki did not allow himself to think on these visions once after witnessing them originally, but it is impossible to keep from recollecting them now as Eleanor presents him with a mobile used to stimulate infants.
As Eleanor babbles happily, spinning the mobile, it becomes clear that she knows not what she purchased.
Disappointment and relief fill him in equal measure.
He is pleased that he has not passed on his monstrous genetics. Given their tenuous position, this lack of child is a blessing. A pregnancy would put Eleanor at considerable risk physically, and it would be criminal to curse a child with such an array of mismatched genetics. Creation of such a child should be impossible, given what Eleanor is, what Loki is.
But the Tesseract crafted such a beautiful vision and Loki struggles to forget how it felt to have a family that was well and truly, without doubt, his.
"You don't like it," Eleanor asks, frowning.
"I do not like it," Loki agrees. This is a lie, but for once Eleanor does not notice.
"Oh," she deflates slightly. "Okay. Well, I'll give this to Jane too."
"No!" The violence of his reply makes Eleanor blink but he carefully takes the mobile, placing it back in its box. "We shall store it. Perhaps someday I will like it."
"Okay, weirdo. Do you want to go have sex?"
Eleanor never fails to ask for what she wants and her guileless manner never fails to shock him.
"Well, yes."
"Tomorrow is princess lesson time," Eleanor says, joining Loki on the couch where he sits, familiarizing himself with an ancient text in hopes that it will contain some clue as to the dangers surrounding Eleanor.
"Yes."
"I guess it will be good to have something to do."
Loki sighs. The morning may bring Eleanor new purpose, but without her to entertain him he will be thoroughly bored. He will have his books and he will continue to research these threats, but his life will be dull and depressing until Eleanor returns in the evenings.
"Are you going to be okay while I'm off doing whatever lame shit your mom wants me to do?" she asks.
"I will endure." He grins slightly, pleased that Eleanor at least recognizes the unpleasantness of the coming days.
Eleanor kisses the corner of his mouth and then settles at his side, pushing her feet under his thighs and laying her head on the back of the sofa.
She does nothing but watch him. Loki fights his grin.
"Did no one teach you that it is impolite to stare?" he asks, not glancing up from the ancient pages.
"It's your fault, for being so damn pretty. How could I possibly not stare?"
"Do not call me pretty."
"Beautiful?"
"No."
"Glorious."
"That is acceptable, I suppose."
Eleanor laughs and snuggles close. He allows her to slip under his arm and strokes her hair, continuing to read. She produces a sound from her chest, low and content, and Loki would very much like to believe her when she claims to truly love him.
But it is unfathomable. He simply cannot.
Eleanor closes her eyes, breaths coming deep and even. Her presence makes reading a bit difficult, for watching her face so restful is far more appealing.
A knock sounds at the door and Loki's eyes snap back to the book in his lap as Eleanor sits up.
"I am occupied," he says without glancing at her. There are only a few people the guards stationed outside the door would let close enough to knock. Loki has little desire to speak to any of them with the exception of Frigga.
"Fine." She huffs in frustration and crosses the room to the door. It swings open when she is still a few feet away. In storms the thunder god, almost running her over with furious steps.
"Dude, watch it."
Loki stops reading to glare at his brother.
"I went to Midgard," says Thor. "At your urging, Sister, I went to Midgard to explain my prolonged absence to Jane."
"Oh, boy."
"It did not go as planned, Eleanor."
"Yeah, I can tell by the way you are freaking out. Come sit down."
Loki has exactly no sympathy for the thunder god's plight. His estrangement with Jane is the result of his own immense stupidity and inability to reason. It is infuriating that Thor did not believe Loki capable of swaying Jane through the merits of his argument alone.
Although Loki supposes it is also a compliment, in a backhanded, extremely offensive way. Thor thinks Loki is seductive enough to sway one such as Jane Foster to his side through sexual prowess.
Loki smirks slightly as Eleanor takes her seat at his side. Thor drops into a chair across from them, shooting guilty glances at Loki every few seconds. He enjoys the oaf's discomfort and slings an arm across the back of the lounge, idly fiddling with Eleanor's hair.
"I am a fool."
Thor's misery only makes Loki grin wider. "Do not be too terribly hard on yourself, Brother. It is merely your natural state. Do we expect a dog to be more than a dog? No, we do not and you are a fool, through and through."
Thor hangs his head in shame.
Loki chuckles again until he makes the mistake of looking to Eleanor. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she appears decidedly unhappy. She raises an eyebrow and Loki nods once, confirming that he will follow her silent instruction to cease with his verbal evisceration of his extremely idiotic brother.
"I explained my theories involving her and Loki. I have never seen her so angry. It was terrifying."
Loki chuckles but this time Eleanor simply rolls her eyes.
"I conveyed my deepest love and warmest wish for us to reconcile. I was rebuffed," Thor says. He frowns at his hands as if confused. This does seem like the first moment in Thor's existence where he is not getting exactly what he wants.
Loki gets great joy from his brother's utter dejection, but Eleanor is watching the golden prince with sympathy, totally absorbed in Thor's wounded puppy routine.
She silently stands, selecting a flagon of wine leftover from their supper. Without a word she presses the drink into Thor's chest. He drinks deeply and Loki resigns himself to a long evening spent listening to Thor's baleful moaning.
If Thor is unable to keep the love of a woman then what hope is there for Loki? This latest turn of events is further proof of Eleanor's confusion.
And if Loki does by some miracle have Eleanor's love now, there is no conceivable way that he will be able to keep it.