Hey there. Remember me? Two months and no update. That's just unacceptable and I will endeavor to do better. For some reason this chapter was just a real struggle for me.
The good news! A good chunk of the next chapter is done.
The bad news (for you, at least). I am about to go to Spain and Morocco for two and a half weeks, so it's still going to be a bit of time until the next update.
You all amaze me for sticking with this story and being so damn insightful when you talk to me about it. Truly. Thank you.
betaed by Heather!
Part II: In the Dark
Chapter 51: The Reality of Rule
"Good morning, Princess."
"Morning," Eleanor replies as Neela falls into step at her side. "We're going to have to walk and talk. I'm late for training with Sif and she's scary when kept waiting."
"The lady Sif is always scary in my experience."
Eleanor's footsteps falter as she gapes up at the formerly shy servant. "Was that a joke, Neela?"
She cracks a smile. "Perhaps."
"Wow, all these years together and I finally get a joke. So what's up?"
"This morning you are to meet with the Allfather and the gatekeeper. You should really not be late," says Neela.
Eleanor nods and walks a little faster. Her whole day is off because of Loki and his unwillingness to let her out of bed this morning before giving her multiple orgasms.
She can't find it in her to be overly upset about her current lateness.
"Then you have luncheon with Lady Zara. And then you are due to visit Lady Meryn after."
Eleanor winces, as visiting Ido's widow and their small son is never pleasant. Meryn very obviously blames Eleanor for the loss of her husband, although she never fails to accept the excess gold Eleanor hands over to supplement the month coinage provided by the crown.
In the two years since Ido, Frigga, and hundreds of others died in the attack, life remains hard for Meryn and those like her. The City of Tents is long disbanded, there is no visible lingering damage, and everyone has gone home, but no amount of coinage will make the loss any easier.
"Your little musicians are meeting this evening if you'd like to make an appearance," Neela continues.
"I really need to find someone to teach them regularly," Eleanor mutters.
"I'll have a new round of candidates for you next week. You've correspondence from Heimdall."
Eleanor grimaces at the thick parchment thrust into her hands. She flips through the stack, ignoring a letter from Jane for now as it is sure to be filled with demands for Eleanor to come home and smiling over one from Darcy, sure to be filled with hilarious tales of her new adventure living with Captain America himself.
A final letter gives her pause.
"Is this…" She turns to Neela and taps a fingernail on the embossed front.
"The royal seal of Empress Oza of Vanaheim," supplies Neela. "Yes."
"What the hell could Oza want?" she mutters, pausing her march towards the training yard to fumble with the letter. "She was just here for the 2nd Remembrance Day, all terrifying and hating me and powerful. What could she possibly want?"
"I am sure she does not hate you," says Neela as Eleanor reads.
"She does. I am a half mortal abomination." Eleanor quickly finishes the letter. "What the fuck?"
"Princess?"
"She wants to come back in a couple months to help me plan the 3rd Remembrance Day! Like I didn't do just fine with the last two. Why does she even need to be here at all?" Eleanor says, throwing a minor fit.
"Eleven Vanir did die in the attack of the Dark Elves," Neela says, being annoyingly reasonable. "They were her people."
"I can't tell her no? Thank but no thanks. I can't just say 'I don't need your help, terrifying goddess?'"
"Not without insulting Empress Oza greatly."
"Perfect. And now I'm really late. Sif is going to kill me."
Running through a crowded throne room in a billowing golden dress - with green detail, God forbid she forget the green - is difficult. Eleanor steps on toes and garners her fair share of irritated looks.
Despite her popularity with the people, the affections of the ruling class of Aesir have waned since Frigga's passing. Most either love her or hate her and to those who hate her, rushing through the throne room is an atrocity to end all atrocities.
The door to the war room is in sight, closed at the moment with a pair of Einherjar stationed on either side.
She pauses to catch her breath and compose her posture into something a bit more royal before approaching the doors at a reasonable pace.
Her progress is once more delayed as Wilhelm, one of her least favorite of Odin's advisers, puts himself between her and her destination.
"Princess," he says, bowing deeper than is necessary, bowing so deep it is mocking and his long grey beard nearly scrapes the floor. "May I be of any assistance?"
"Nope."
"Nope?" he asks, confused.
"Means no," she supplies. "I don't need your help. Now, if you'll excuse me."
She attempts to step around the bigoted old coot. Once again, he steps between her and the door.
"If you mean to see the Allfather than I'm afraid you will be disappointed. He is in a closed, secretive meeting with Heimdall until luncheon."
Eleanor rolls her eyes. "I am aware. Excuse me."
"I cannot allow you to disturb him. Not even I know what is being discussed in that room, therefore it is of great import."
"I won't be disturbing him."
"He is far too lenient with you. Preventing your interruption will—"
"Eleanor!" In the now open doorway to the war room, is her husband, tall and intimidating and glaring. Although she sees only Loki, the rest see Odin and she's been on the other side of the Allfather's glare. It is rather unpleasant. "You are late," he snaps.
She spares Wilhelm a smirk before stepping around him and strutting into the room.
"What was that?" hisses Loki as he closes the door behind her.
"Nothing new," she replies. "And certainly nothing I can't handle. Good morning, Heimdall."
"Hello, Princess," he replies, nodding once. His huge golden helmet sits on the table and without it he looks strange. He has far less hair than she envisioned.
"Sorry I'm late," she says, taking her seat next to the king's, across from the gatekeepers. "Training with Sif went long. I wasn't paying attention to the time. It was entirely my fault."
"It is no bother, Princess. It gave our king and I ample time to take breakfast and 'catch up' as your Midgardian brethren are fond of saying."
Eleanor gives him a genuine smile.
"Yes, yes," says Loki, taking his seat. "But now we must begin. Heimdall, if you will."
The gatekeeper gives them the Asgardian equivalent of a PowerPoint presentation. He projects maps of Jotunheim and images of Jotunns directly from his head into the air as he details all he's come to know since Loki asked him to keep closer tabs on the ice world.
Years have different meaning here on the Realm Eternal. On Midgard, two years would be far too long to wait, simply observing while the defenses to the palace remain insufficient.
On Asgard, two years is nothing. A blink. A heartbeat.
Still, the gatekeeper's magic here is fascinating and Eleanor vows to get Loki to teach her when they have a spare minute.
If they ever have a spare minute ever again.
They will probably never have a spare minute ever again.
"Since the fall of Laufey," says Heimdall, "there has been chaos, as you know. In recent years, this chaos has evolved into what can reasonably be called civil war. There are two factions, led by the late king's daughters."
In the years since he started this rouse, Loki's skills of lying have improved exponentially. Outside their rooms, his every twitch and reaction is all Odin. Although he was talented before, now he is flawless and despite this shocking news, he remains stoic, as impassive as a mountain.
Eleanor is not nearly as mountain-like.
"Daughters of Laufey?" she asks, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. "So, like..."
"Elder sisters of your late husband? Of the king's late son? Yes. The daughters are called Lau and Fey."
"Holy shit," mutters Eleanor. " Lau and Fey? Really? He named them Lau and Fey? Really?"
"They are twins," Heimdall says as if this explains the dead king's criminal naming. "And now they lead factions, each vying for power."
Images of two nearly identical Jotunns appear above the table. They are massive and blue, with red eyes and leather clothes. Their faces and indigo runes appear the same, as do their sets of small horns at the crown of their heads, but their hairstyles differentiate them.
One has long dark hair, dreadlocked and braided in a pleat pulled over her shoulder.
The other's hair is black as well, shaved on the sides into what would be a mohawk if it was loose, but it too is braided back. On the sides of her head are more lines but they are a pale blue rather than indigo.
"What are the markings on her head?" asks Eleanor.
"Scars," replies Heimdall. "Lau adds marks to her skin of the skull after great victories in battle."
"Fuck," says Eleanor.
"Language," says Loki, breaking character just a little bit. "Please, Heimdall. Continue."
"Lau leads the warriors. Where Laufey was power-hungry and blood-thirsty, he was also realistic with at least some sense of diplomacy. He was an extremist who sought to breed his people into a more fearsome class of warrior but also accepted Asgard's might and the truce you offered, Allfather. Lau inherited her father's cruelty and fanaticism, but none of his caution."
Eleanor shivers.
"She will die before she will surrender and once she seizes control fully her gaze will turn to Asgard or the other realms," continues Heimdall. "She is undeniably dangerous as she would gladly die, gladly send all Jotunns to the slaughter if it meant taking the Aesir with them. We discussed all this before the Dark Elves, if you recall, Allfather. You chose then to monitor the situation. Lau is still far from having the power to confront Asgard, but if she continues on this path undeterred she will get there eventually."
Loki grunts and nods.
"And what about the other one?" asks Eleanor, shivering slightly as she looks at Lau with her head scars. "Fey."
"While Lau has the military," replies Heimdall, "Fey has the people. Before her father's death, she was a birther and worked in Jotunn nurseries with infants. Her disagreement with many of her father's policies was well known, garnering her the love of the lower classes. Fey has the numbers with her as the population is mostly made up of miners and ice farmers, but not the might. Still they fight, using stealth and sabotage rather than meeting Lau in open battle. The conflict has thus far been long and bloody. It will likely continue on for sometime, if no one intervenes."
Again, Loki grunts and nods.
For a few moments, all is silent. Eleanor takes the time to get her head around all she's learned. With the exception of the father Loki killed, Eleanor never gave his birth family much thought.
It is difficult to imagine, Loki with sisters.
She wonders what happened to their mother and sits on her hands to resist the overwhelming urge to reach out for her husband, to take his face between her palms and look in his eyes, making sure he's reminded that no matter what, she is with him. She is his family.
"So," she says, clearing her throat. "We should intervene, right?"
The gatekeeper and the princess both look at the king.
Loki grunts and nods.
The projections above them shift to maps and strategy and Eleanor tries very hard to pay attention. Mostly she thinks of Loki's sisters, Fey with her long pleats of black hair, chin held high, and Lau, scars dug into her own skull, proud marks of blood spilled.
"Did you know about them?" she whispers, lifting her cheek from his naked chest to blink at him in the dark.
Loki sighs although this line of questioning can't be unexpected after their meeting today with Heimdall. As she has learned to do over the years, she left him alone for most the day, through the dinner they shared with Odin and the furious fucking that followed.
There will be no good time to discuss this, but when he is sated and sleepy is her best bet.
"No," he murmurs.
Instead of grumbling or snapping or trying to distract her with the prospect of more furious fucking, he actually answered. It's a good sign.
"You knew nothing? Even when you killed Laufey, you didn't have any idea who would be left to rule?" She's skeptical. It's such a huge detail to overlook and nothing like her meticulous husband.
"I was distressed!" he says, sitting up slightly. "I also decided destroying Jotunheim would be the best course of action to prove my worth to my father even though Thor was banished for the same thing days before. Logic was not with me. I did not know or care to know who was left to take Laufey's place."
Eleanor crawls up his chest to kiss the corner of his mouth, calming him somewhat.
"Fey seems pretty badass," she says.
"Enough, Eleanor."
"What are you going to do?"
"I know not. I must think on it." He rolls away from her, settling on his side. She pouts for a moment before he reaches back, pulling her arm until she gets the memo and spoons herself around his back.
"I'm your family," she says, lacing her fingers through his. She speaks into his shoulder blade. "You will always have me but would it be so bad for you to meet Fey?"
"She is not family, Eleanor. Stop this ridiculous notion now. I am unsure if I can trust any of Laufey's offspring and will never see the less wicked of his children as anything but a possible ally, a means to an end, someone to use to get the materials I require to keep Asgard and you on it, safe. Now sleep."
"Okay. Fine."
"Good."
"Great!'
Loki falls silent but remains tense even when she presses their combined hands into his chest and her nose into his back.
"I can tell by your tone you do not believe me when I say this is merely political," he mutters.
Eleanor snorts. "Really? How perceptive of you."
Grumbling all the while, Loki thrashes around until he is free of the blankets and sitting up in bed. Eleanor watches, trying not to be amused by his little tantrum.
"Odin knew all this," he says, gesturing wildly. "Surely, he knew that I was third in succession behind Laufey's daughters. His entire plan when taking me was predicated on the assumption that I would one day rule Jotunheim, a readymade ally to Asgard as I was raised by its people, believing myself to be one of them for so long. He took me. He kidnapped Laufey's heir. How could that have come to fruition with these two older heirs existing?"
Eleanor shrugs. "I don't know. We could ask him."
"No."
"Maybe he just took you without thinking. Maybe you were just an innocent baby. New life in stark contrast to all that death of the war and something compelled him to pick you up so he did. Maybe all the political justification came later and at first he just wanted you."
"You are ridiculous, Eleanor." He reclines again, pulling her back into a position spooned around his back. "Sleep now."
"Okay, Loki. Love you."
In answer he mutters incomprehensibly into his pillow and tugs her a little closer.
Loki is tired.
He spent the morning enduring the ceaseless bickering of his council and various advisers. Although he knew his proposal to open trade with Jotunheim for the first time in two thousand years would be grounds for emotional debate, this is the third day of yammering and Loki is tired.
Ruling is a singularly exhausting occupation and on days such as this Loki struggles to remember why he sought the throne so desperately.
"Enough," he says.
The room immediately quiets at his soft-spoken command, and Loki remembers why he chooses to wear Odin's face day by day. For the first time he is listened to, respected, and admired. He basks in the positive attention for a moment before standing.
As he stands, all others stand also.
"We are in need of the rare minerals found only in the depths of Jotunheim to rebuild the palace defenses after the Dark Elves. Jotunheim is in need of lumber to rebuild the damage my son wrought with the Bifrost all those years ago as well as food. They are a broken people with factions still warring for rule. One faction is no enemy to Asgard and if we help the people rebuild their homes and feed their children we can sway support away from radical groups that could prove dangerous. I see no reason to keep from trading with Jotunheim and supporting one daughter of Laufey over the other. When I return from my luncheon you will present me with only logical, practical arguments. I have no need to hear you extol your prejudices further."
Those gathered murmur their agreement and Loki sweeps out of the room.
At first he found their horror amusing. If their Asgardian sensibilities were so offended by giving Jotunheim wheat and wood, they would surely expire if they knew that a Frost Giant has sat on the throne of Asgard and successfully navigated such a period of rebuilding for over two years.
Still, in the last days his amusement has faded and the cruel beliefs of the Aesir grade on his nerves.
"Such monsters are incapable of something as civilized as trade," said one official.
"Better these devils starve out of existence," said another.
Loki stopped calling himself monster long ago, but he needs his wife now to remind him. He wonders what Odin would say to his advisers if he were in his right mind, if Loki were truly dead. Would the king defend his choice to raise a Frost Giant as his own?
It is a singularly unproductive train of thought.
Loki finds himself in front of the doors to Odin's chambers. The food cart holding the Allfather's lunch sits untouched in the hall. Eleanor typically dines with Odin for the midday meal, but it appears Loki is the first to arrive.
With a sigh, Loki pushes the cart inside, pulling the doors closed behind him and letting the illusion of Odin slip from his features.
The sound of voices draws him to the second level of the tower, to the sunny room where Odin prefers to spend his days sketching. Loki lingers undetected in the hall, listening to Odin speak to Eleanor.
"I know, you know," the Allfather is saying. After so many months of silence it is strange to hear the king's voice once more. It is quieter than it once was, unsure now where it was once commanding.
Several weeks ago Odin started speaking in full sentences once more and although names and specifics still baffle him, he is remarkably coherent.
"What do you know, Odin?" Eleanor asks.
"You know what I know. I know it."
"Sorry, dude. I have no idea what you are talking about."
Eleanor possesses much patience. A mere five minutes in the insane Allfather's presence is often enough to drive Loki to acts of violence.
"Blue," says Odin. Loki clenches his jaw. "Blue. Blue. I know what Blue did. I know what Blue continues to do. Blue, Blue, Blue."
"His name is Loki. You should try and remember it. Loki is the name you gave him," Eleanor says.
"Blue."
"Loki."
"Blue."
"Loki."
In the hallway, Loki bites back a sigh.
"He was so small when I found him," Odin murmurs. "So small and blue. He stopped being blue when I brought him into my arms. Such magic for something so small. Was it long ago?"
Loki leans against a wall, listening intently now.
"Yeah," replies Eleanor. "It was a long time ago. A thousand years, or so. More, actually."
"I know. I know. Before she died. Before he died, but didn't actually die. And then when he did it again, died but didn't truly die."
"Right. Long before all that."
"He was raised to rule," Odin says. "He will be a good king. Yes, yes. Even if they don't know. I know. You know. Blue knows."
Loki feels the need to sit down. He's often considered what course of action to take when Odin's returned lucidity gave him understanding of Loki's treachery.
But now Odin knows – simple, altered, and childlike as he may be – yet he expresses no distress or horror or outrage. He seems content to leave his beloved Asgard in Loki's blue hands. Declaring Loki a good king is the most fatherly praise he's ever received.
Loki continues to feel the need to sit down and his knees wobble, but instead he continues to listen.
"Wow," says his wife. "You know. Okay. And you are okay with it?"
"Should I not be?" He sounds horribly confused. "I do not what to do it. I want to draw and paint and draw."
"You can draw all you like, Odin."
There is something resembling affection in his wife's tone and Loki is not entirely sure he approves.
"They hurt him, you know. They hurt Blue."
"I know they did," whispers Eleanor.
"And still he didn't tell."
Loki blinks, unsure what the Allfather means by this.
"What didn't he tell?" asks Eleanor.
"Secrets, secrets, our secrets. They hurt him, changed him, but he kept our secrets. He kept the secrets of this place. I am sure they wanted to know what Blue knows. I wonder how he kept our secrets."
Loki lied. The titan asked, again and again, how to surpass Asgard's defenses, how to access the weapons vault, in the event that the Tesseract find a home there. Loki claimed not to know and the titan did hurt him. Loki made himself forget, made himself believe his own lie, even as he allowed his animosity for his false family to grow until he was hate only.
And it did hurt. Oh, how it hurt.
"I did not think on it," continues Odin. "On how they hurt him and how he kept our secrets. I did not think, not until he broke my brain."
Odin laughs. The high-pitched giggle is so strange coming from the former Protector of the Nine Realms.
"I like my brain broken. I was angry before. Now it is quiet. May we dine?"
"Sure," Eleanor says, expelling a great breath of air. Loki hears the legs of her chair scrape against the floor as she stands. "I'll lay out lunch. Come down in a few minutes."
Odin whistles the notes of Eleanor's song and his wife appears, freezing when she sees Loki leaning against the wall. Her eyes go wide. Loki straightens up and turns, walking back down the stairs, away from the ever-baffling Odin. He can feel Eleanor follow and when he drops down into a chair at the table she slides into his lap.
Without preamble Loki kisses his wife, allowing the touch to ease the tension of the morning.
"Rough day so far?" Eleanor asks after a few moments.
Loki hugs his wife close, resting his face against her neck and nodding. She runs her fingers through his hair and Loki sighs.
"Did you hear all that?"
"I believe so. He's very chatty today. I prefer him with a broken brain as well."
"I love you," she says.
"I am aware," he replies, lifting his head to look at her properly.
"Are you hungry?"
"Famished."
Eleanor kisses the corner of his mouth and leaves his lap to set out plates and platters of food. He gratefully accepts a goblet of wine as Odin totters down the stairs.
"Blue!" says the Allfather.
"Hello, Odin," Loki replies, feeling unusually gracious.
The fallen king grins and gets far too close for Loki's comfort.
"What?" demands Loki, recoiling.
"Blue." Then, much to Loki's deep horror and disgust, Odin leans down, dropping a quick kiss on Loki's forehead before taking his seat on the other side of the table.
Loki freezes, shocked glare apparent on his face.
Eleanor laughs at his expression and suggests Loki drink his wine.
"Her resistance is waning, my king."
When Loki enters the Bifrost Pavilion, the gatekeeper does not turn from his post. As it has been for many months, Heimdall's gaze is directed at Jotunheim,
"So no real change, then," says Loki, using Odin's voice. He sighs and leans heavily on Gungir, the staff of the king.
"She will not last," says Heimdall. "As it is, she and her fellows have gone underground. And I do mean literally. They now live in the mines. Babes even and small children."
"This is not good news."
"No," agrees the gatekeeper. "Why do you still hesitate? It was my understanding that you decided to support Fey and her rebellion against the tyrannical reign of her sister."
"Yes," Loki says, well aware that it is long past time he act in this. His hesitation is based solely on sentiment and it shames him so that all he seems capable of doing is watching through Heimdall. "But there are many on the council very against my plan to trade with and equip one Jotunn faction over the other."
"You have circumvented the desires of your council before, my king."
Loki nods and grunts.
"Permission to speak freely, my king?"
Loki nods once more, curiosity getting the best of him. Also, he hopes the gatekeeper will be able to spur him into action. He's been unable to motivate himself and Eleanor seems equally willing to allow him to take his time.
But time runs out.
"These Jotunn, both the one in power who enslaves those weaker and the one leading the resistance. They are daughter's of Laufey."
"They are."
"Making them relations to your son."
Loki grimaces, but Heimdall successfully pinpoints the source of his hesitation. Although Loki's successfully deceived the gatekeeper on his identity, this he has failed to keep secret. The reasons for his hesitation in this are obvious.
"You miss him."
Internally, Loki smirks. It is always a joy to be reminded of the great success of his deception.
Externally, Odin gives a solemn nod.
"The time to act is upon you, my king," says the gatekeeper. "Wait much longer, and Lau will have secured her power and established a new order of enslavement on Jotunheim."
Loki nods, grunts, and retreats.
Although he managed to keep from waking her upon his late night departure Eleanor stirs as he slips back into bed after his meeting with the gatekeeper.
"You left?" she murmurs as Loki curls himself around her, pulling her back flush against his chest and holding her hand.
"Hush, my love. Sleep."
"Where did you go? Heimdall?"
He sighs into her hair. "Yes."
"How are your sisters?"
"Don't call them that!" he snaps. His hand tightens on her hip and he lets go immediately upon this realization.
"Loki, you've been putting this off for months," she says. "And I let you get away with it because it is complicated and if anyone understands fucked up sibling situations it's me. But it's time."
Sighing, he holds her a bit closer and nuzzles into the back of her neck. She simply waits with characteristic patience until he surrenders to her request.
"The situation becomes more dire everyday for Fey and her resistance. They've moved underground. Literally. They have little food, virtually no weapons. Without assistance it is only a matter of time before Lau's new order of forced labor overseen by the privileged few warriors will become entrenched."
"What are you going to do, Loki?"
He is silent for a long time, part of him hoping that Eleanor will fall back to sleep and leave him be but he can tell by her breathing that she is alert. Too long, he's put off this decision. There is no real reason for his hesitation other than an extreme repulsion at the idea of having anything to do with the creatures with who he shares blood.
"Do you think Sif capable of leading a covert mission to the frozen world? Offering Fey our terms?"
"Yeah. I definitely think she's up for that."
"Loki, get up," Eleanor pokes him in the side of his head and he promptly burrows under his pillows.
"No," he mutters.
"Come on, man," says his ever-eloquent wife, attempting to tug away the pillow. Fortunately, she is miniscule and he holds his ground with ease. "You are meeting with the council in twenty minutes and I have that dignitary from Vanaheim to show around because apparently Oza herself wants to be involved in planning Remembrance Day next year for who the hell knows why and her visit to conduct said planning takes a great deal of planning."
Blindly he seeks out any part of her. When his fingers close around her arm, Loki gives a good yank and Eleanor is back in bed with him. He gets his arms around her as she giggles.
"You are fully clothed," he grumbles, still unwilling to open his eyes. "I disapprove."
"And you are completely ridiculous," Eleanor replies. 'This can't be a thing you do every morning."
Loki groans when Eleanor kisses his temple and sits up, leaving him alone in bed once more.
"Come on," she says. "We've got things to do."
"Someone else can surely do it for one morning," he says, opening his eyes just in time to get blinded as his wife throws open the drapes. He hisses and reaches for a pillow, but Eleanor is too quick and he is left alone in bed with nothing to hide under.
"No one else can do it. You're the fake King of Asgard," Eleanor replies.
Loki opens one eye again to see her scowling at the end of their bed. "Do not say fake," he requests. "I have been very successfully ruling this realm for over two years. Nothing fake about that."
"Except your identity."
"Yes, you have me there. I do not think myself capable of leaving this bed," he says, deathly serious.
"Too bad. Get up."
"But, darling—"
"What is your deal lately?" she snaps. "It's like you don't want to do this anymore."
Loki sits up abruptly, scrambling out of bed. He snaps his fingers, clothing his frame in black and green fabric only Eleanor will ever see. "I am merely tired. You keep me up far too late with your wanton behavior."
Eleanor snorts.
"Tired," he says again, trying to convince himself as he convinces her. "Nothing more."
Ruling Asgard lost its appeal months ago, after the novelty of being listened to and the glow of victory left him. Although the realm flourishes and he should be basking in his own glory, Loki is dissatisfied.
He sought this so desperately and for so long that he is unwilling to admit that he finds the reality of rule to be tedious at the best of times and just another prison at the worst. The demands on his time are constant and he does not have the freedom to do anything spontaneously.
There is absolutely no time for mischief.
Ages ago, when Loki was deranged and Eleanor was his prisoner, she asked him why he wanted to rule so badly. "Sounds like a bum gig to me," she said.
At the time he did not understand how power could possibly be a negative. Is it not the ambition of every being to reach the pinnacle, to rule, no matter how unattainable this goal might be?
Eleanor proved the answer to be no.
Not everyone desires power, not everyone is raised to covet thrones, just Loki.
Now, he feels misinformed. In countless lessons with the Allfather it was never made clear how dreadfully dull the daily life of a king truly is. There are meetings and discussions and decisions to be made. The people are a needy group and faking empathy for said needs is an exhausting feat.
Every moment of his time is consumed by things he cares not for.
But he will not admit that he was wrong, that he spent the entirety of his long lifetime seeking this, only to discover that he wants it not.
And his wife cannot know, not after she was so against taking up this life of deceit in the first place. She is flourishing here as acting Queen of Asgard. How many times will Loki pull her out of a life she loves – musician, student – as he seeks his own satisfaction?
Eleanor continues to stare at him with narrowed eyes as he continues to prepare for the day with admittedly more enthusiasm than is natural.
As the years pass, concealing the truth from his wife becomes progressively more difficult and he does not attempt to do so often. The entirety of his life is and has always been a lie. He lives everyday as another until he can lock himself away with the songbird, but his dissatisfaction is the one thing he strives to keep hidden now.
He attempts to look as innocent as possible.
"Holy shit," Eleanor says, eyes going wide. "You hate it."
Loki fights ignorance, scrunching his brow and blinking at her in confusion. "Hate what, darling?"
"Don't give me the puppy look," she scolds. "You hate ruling."
"Puppy look?"
"With the eyes and the lips and the whole thing. And stop changing the subject! You hate ruling."
"Eleanor," he says with a sigh. "Ruling Asgard has been my life's ambition since childhood. And our circumstance is far from ideal, but I am king. It is a great joy and you cannot deny that I excel in this."
"Yeah," she drawls, unimpressed. "I know all that, by you still hate doing it. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."
"Eleanor, you are talking nonsense."
"Come on. Give it up."
"I am extremely happy with my decision to fake my death and take over Odin's duties."
"When did you get so bad at this?"
"Bad at what?"
"Lying."
Loki snorts. "I've successfully masqueraded as the Allfather for over two years, convincing his closest advisers, his son, and the all-seeing gatekeeper."
"Fine," Eleanor says with a roll of her eyes. "When did you get so bad at lying to me?"
"I do not lie."
"Loki!"
Eleanor is truly angered now and Loki admits defeat. Shoulders slumping he rubs his left hand with his right. "Hate is not the appropriate word to describe how I feel in regards to ruling. And I've always been bad at lying to you."
His wife groans and buries his face in her hands. "Un-fucking-believable," she mutters.
"It is dreadfully dull," he says, whining slightly. Truthfully, he's been aching to confess this for months and to tell her now is a relief, even if he would rather her not know. "It is boring. I am bored with the decision-making and the shockingly easy-to-control politics of Asgard's elite. That bit of intrigue with Jotunheim was momentarily compelling, but even that situation has grown dull with Fey advancing and honoring her agreements to trade with Asgard. The daily realties of rule are so tedious, Eleanor, I feel I might expire."
He places his hand on her shoulders and Eleanor finally looks at him once again.
"Bored?" she asks, her voice breaking. "You can't go off conquering or something crazy like that just because you are bored!"
Loki rolls his eyes. "Yes, my dear."
Since beginning talks to open trade routes with Jotunheim for the first time in several thousand years, he's concocted no great schemes and he has no plans to do anything that would make Eleanor hate herself for loving him.
Admittedly when he first considered the possibility of opening relations with Jotunheim he was slightly less bored but he would gladly take boredom over the sickness in his guts when he first heard the tale of Laufey's two daughters.
Since Sif successfully brought Fey their terms and the amenable Frost Giant has used Asgardian provisions and weaponry to turn the tide, dullness once more reigns in Loki's world.
"Fuck, Loki!" she says, suddenly irate once more.
"You are angry," he observes.
"I'm frustrated," she says, jerking away from him. "You wanted this so badly! And here we are now. I can't believe this is my life, committing treason all over the place, basically queening it up. What the fuck do we do now?
Loki shrugs. "Endure."
"Endure? That's your solution?"
"There is no problem therefore we need no solution."
"You're miserable! Don't you think that's a problem?"
Loki shrugs again because misery is something he accepted as a constant long ago. He can endure in misery outside these rooms so long as Eleanor returns to him at the end of each monotonous day.
"Don't you think you deserve to be happy?" she whispers.
Loki knows the answer she desires, but lying to her is difficult so he says nothing. She takes his silence for the no it is. For a moment his wife appears absolutely shattered but then her eyes narrow into a glare. She stomps off to their wardrobe, roughly pulling a black shall over her shoulders.
"I'm going to get Odin breakfast. You have a meeting."
And then she disappears, leaving Loki to wish that his lying skills extended to his wife.
By the time Eleanor reaches the end of the secret tunnel that leads to the royal tower, she is no longer mad. Frustrated and sick with worry, but certainly not mad.
She pauses at the doorway.
Odin is extremely attuned to the feelings of others. He can always tell through body language or vibes or whatever when Eleanor and Loki have been fighting, so she takes a moment to collect herself before knocking on the door.
A couple months into this madness, Eleanor walked in on a very naked Allfather so now she always, always knocks. There is no response and by the third knock she takes the chance and opens the door, stepping out through the mirror into Odin's empty bedroom. She makes the bed and folds a cloak, but Odin is remarkably clean and self-sufficient.
She finds him three levels down in a sunny room they long ago converted into an art studio. Of all the art supplies they've provided since, oils and canvas are his favorites.
Today Eleanor finds him lying flat on his back on top of a high, empty shelf, painting the ceiling.
"Good morning, Odin," she greets.
He turns his head and the shelf creaks under his weight. There is purple paint in his beard and Eleanor makes a mental note to have Loki install some sort of scaffolding so Odin can paint the rest of the high ceiling without breaking his neck.
"Mortal," he replies, reaching back up to the ceiling to smear some paint with his thumb.
"Come on, old man," she says, rolling her eyes. "You know my name. And it's half-mortal. Do you want breakfast?"
He hums the affirmative and climbs down the empty shelves. The drop is at least fifteen feet and Eleanor bites her lip to keep from getting overly motherly with the former Protector of the Nine Realms.
When he reaches her side she moves to exit the large, sunny room, but Odin snags her wrist, dragging her over to a large, covered canvas. He tugs on the sheet and watches her expectantly as she takes in the full length, life size portrait.
Odin paints like he is reliving the renaissance and typically favors depictions of glorious battle. Eleanor fully expects to fake some enthusiasm over another war epic, but this painting is different and suddenly grief hits Eleanor like a punch to the gut.
Odin has crafted something personal and moving and Eleanor can do nothing but gape.
Five super-realistic figures fill the canvas. It is like looking at a photograph and in the center is Frigga, smiling and warm. Gone is the edge of sorrow always present in the features of the queen Eleanor once knew. She is flanked by her sons, Thor to the left and Loki to the right. The princes both look so young and free of care. Odin's painted all three of them as they were, before his lies tore this family apart. Thor and Loki are happy, no longer weary with fighting and bogged down by sorrows and horrors.
The Odin in the portrait looks like the artist looks now, tired, old, a little bit crazy, but free of the anger and bitterness that characterized the king as Eleanor knew him.
Most shocking to Eleanor is the final figure on the far right. It's a version of herself, dwarfed by the royal family but standing tall and proud. Odin's painted Eleanor as regal and wise and belonging with these legendary gods.
He's painted her as family.
Her dress is pale green and Loki's hand rests on her shoulder, blue and covered in runes while the rest of him remains in his Asgardian form.
They are all linked together through touch, Loki and Thor's hands on their mother's shoulders, Frigga arms spread across her sons to hold both Odin and Eleanor's hands. She keeps them all together.
"Is it good?"
Eleanor jumps, startled out of her total absorption with the painting. She wipes her cheeks dry and nods. "It's perfect," she assures him. "I really miss her."
Odin hums in agreement.
"This is how she'd want it," Eleanor continues, tearing her eyes away from the portrait to look at its painter. "She'd want all of us to be just like that."
"She loved me once. They all loved me once."
Eleanor's heart aches and she takes his hand. "Come on. Let's eat."
Loki joins them eventually, a habit he got into when he was forced to listen his advisers talk about the inherent evilness of all Jotunns.
When he leans down to kiss her, Eleanor offers only her cheek.
"Don't anger your wife, Loki," says Odin, sounding remarkably like his old self as he bites into a roll.
Loki scowls for a moment and Eleanor steels herself, fully expecting him to lash out with something cruel and biting.
Instead he laughs.
"Excellent advice, Allfather." He kisses Eleanor's cheek again and whispers in her ear. "Do not fret, my sweet songbird. You are my happiness. All will be well here. I promise."
Eleanor nods as he makes himself a plate. His words appease her slightly, but she is unable to shake the feeling that they are living on borrowed time.
Eleanor wakes, opening her eyes in time to see Loki emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed and ready for the day.
"Good morning, my wife," he says, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand over her hair.
Eleanor groans in response, the noise dramatic enough to have Loki laughing.
"It's unlike you to linger in bed," he says.
"It is unlike you to get up without me badgering you."
"I am making an effort to be optimistic and enthusiastic in regards to my current occupation. As you said, I chose this path and I will not let the banality of ruling cause either of us misery any longer."
Eleanor is very skeptical and Loki sees it clearly in her facial expression.
He actually pouts.
"I am serious about this, Eleanor."
"I'm pessimistic about your ability to be optimistic."
He chuckles instead of getting all pissy, but this morning even happy Loki is not enough to get her out of bed.
Today, she is just off. Not sick, but not quite right. The timing is terrible, with Oza and the delegation arriving this afternoon.
Why the Empress of Vanaheim feels the need to personally take part in planning the ceremony to commemorate the third anniversary of the attack on Asgard remains a mystery to Eleanor.
Three more days' sleep would serve her well.
"Are you quite all right, my love?" Loki bends, getting close to her face as his sharp eyes calculate every detail of her features. She closes her eyes and snuggles into her pillow.
"Tired," she murmurs.
"Did you not sleep well? Was it your dreams?" This rising panic in his voice has Eleanor blindly reaching out to offer comfort.
Her hand finds his nose and she gives it a reassuring pat.
"No dreams. Just couldn't really sleep. Or maybe I slept too much. I don't know. It's all a blur."
Loki is still frowning. "You should always wake me on such occasions."
"You need to be well-rested for all that kingly shit you have to do," she says. "It's a big week."
Loki sighs heavily and Eleanor drifts, shivering slightly. When Loki leaves, she'll get his fur cloak from the closet and add it to the mountain of blankets on top of her. She considers asking Loki, but it is summer and warm and that would only worry him.
"You have no matters of state to see to this morning?" he asks.
"No. I cancelled my work out with Sif and Sigyn can fill in with my music lessons, so I'll be free until the Vanir arrive. If you bring Odin his breakfast and there is no reason my devoted husband wouldn't do that for me, is there?"
"We are expecting a delegation from Vanaheim?"
"Yeah." Eleanor peaks up at him from her blankets. "Where have you been? The empress is coming to plan the third anniversary. You best be there to receive her. She hates me."
"She does not hate you."
"I am a half mortal abomination and she hates me."
"Perhaps we shall give her a room on the lower levels," Loki muses, smirking. His hand finds her forehead and it is too cold, but she lets it stay.
"You are not starting a war with our closest ally because the empress thinks she's better than me," Eleanor replies, closing her eyes. She is in no mood for his mischief today.
"You ruin all fun things with your relentless reason."
"Loki."
"I fail to see why a foreign empress should have any say in planning the anniversary of an event where a mere dozen Vanir perished," Loki mutters. "Has she had a hand in the planning these two years past?"
"Nope."
"Then she has some other purpose for his visit."
"I know."
"Be careful, Eleanor."
"I will."
Loki kisses her forehead and she opens one eye to watch him depart.
"I will see you this evening on the bridge."
"Go feed your fake father!" she shouts to his back.
"Oh, fine!"