Part II: In the Dark
Chapter 20: Half, Quarter, Quarter
"Eleanor? Eleanor!"
She opens her eyes and her vision is blurred. It takes several blinks to bring Sif into focus.
"Get out of my room, you ridiculous warrior." Eleanor grumbles and rolls over, sleep already creeping back around her. It is delightful and warm. She pulls Loki's fur over her head and sighs in contentment.
The warmth lasts only a few seconds as Sif rips away her mountain of blankets.
Eleanor sits up, feeling silly in her Midgardian sweats and hoodie. Sif is glaring from the end of the bed, blankets in hand, while Sigyn and Neela loiter in the doorway of the bedroom, obviously uncomfortable.
"Whoa," says Eleanor. "What's going on?"
"You've managed to sleep the day away," Sif snaps, still angry that Eleanor skipped training, no doubt. "Neela repeatedly attempted to wake you and apparently you demanded she 'get lost.'"
"Shit, that was real?"
"Eleanor," Sigyn says, taking a step into the room. The healer's eyes dart around and she wrings her hands. Eleanor wonders if she's been in here before, centuries ago when she had an affair with Loki. "Are you ill?"
"What?" Eleanor replies, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "No, it's just, Loki…" She trails off, feeling sick for real now because she's said the wrong thing and nearly given up the whole game.
"Loki is gone." Sif sounds as soft as she's capable of sounding.
Eleanor shakes her head, forcing herself to focus. "I know." She closes her eyes and tries to look like a grieving widow. After nearly three years, she's pretty damn good at it. "It was just a dream."
"A bad dream?" Sigyn murmurs.
"A good dream. The bad part was that it ended."
There are a few beats of silence before Sif clears her throat. "I am sorry, Eleanor, but Empress Oza is scheduled to arrive quite soon."
Eleanor glances out the window, shocked to see the sun so low in the sky.
"Fuck!" Eleanor scrambles out of bed, moving to the bathroom. Sigyn follows close behind, prepared to help with Eleanor's bed head, while Neela ducks into the closet.
"What gown, Princess?" asks Neela.
"Sorry I yelled at you," says Eleanor as Sigyn pushes her down to sit at the vanity.
"No need to apologize, Princess. What gown?"
Loki sits atop Lumar on the Rainbow Bridge, glancing over his shoulder with great frequency as he impatiently waits for Eleanor to join the welcoming procession. The remainder of the party is assembled, lining either edge of the bridge just outside the Bifrost pavilion. The only empty position is between Volstagg and Fandral. He sent Sif to fetch his wife, and Loki fluctuates between irritation and concern.
It is not like her to be late.
She appears on the bridge a moment later, galloping towards the pavilion on her white horse, Sif at her side. She pulls her steed to an abrupt stop at his side a few moments later as Sif trots to her place in line.
"Sorry, sorry," Eleanor says as she slides off her horse.
Loki dismounts as well, falling into step beside her. They walk past Asgard's nobles and Einherjar before entering the pavilion where Heimdall stands alone, ever watchful.
"They gather now, my king," says the gatekeeper. "It appears that the empress is late."
"It does seem to be a trend this evening," Loki says, frowning at Eleanor.
"Sorry!" she replies. It is rare to see his wife so flustered and he finally settles on concern over irritation.
Loki fingers her thick winter cloak, an odd choice for the balmy weather. He raises a questioning eyebrow at Eleanor and she pulls the cloak tighter around her shoulders.
"I lost track of the time," she murmurs. There is assuredly more to the tale but now is not the moment to investigate further.
"Hi, Heimdall," Eleanor says.
"Hello, Princess. How fare thee?"
"I'm good. But I'll be better if I know my people on Midgard are safe and sound."
He chuckles and turns his gaze from Vanaheim to Midgard.
"All is well. Your family sleeps soundly. Jane Foster reads while Thor rests. Darcy Lewis and Steve Rodgers eat a dessert of some sort. Tony Stark builds something."
Eleanor manages a wan smile. "Great, Heimdall. Thank you."
"It is my pleasure, Princess. Ah, the empress is ready. Excuse me."
The Bifrost pavilion around them shifts and Loki takes the moment to study Eleanor's face. She is painted and perfect as always, not a flaw visible. It is her expression that is troublesome, eyes glassy and exhausted.
In the nine years together, Loki's witnessed Eleanor fall ill only twice; if sickness is upon her now he would very much like to know.
Immediately.
"Eleanor?" he whispers as the Bifrost whirls to life.
"I'm fine." She huddles in her cloak.
Eleanor asserting her so-called fineness is never a positive sign. Typically her claim of fine is a sure indication of coming woes, but the Empress of Vanaheim and her delegation steps through the Bifrost and Loki must be king rather than husband.
"Odin Allfather," says Oza, sweeping forward. Eleanor and Heimdall bow to her just as her companions bow to Loki. Hogun is among them and Loki wonders if the long absent warrior will elect to stay.
"Oza," Loki says, tilting his head in a way the Allfather would. 'The months since we last saw one another have been kind to your beauty. It is my ardent hope that the time has been equally kind to your mind and your rule."
Eleanor rolls her eyes but the empress beams, extending a hand for Loki to kiss. He does so, relishing the knowledge that Oza would be thoroughly disgusted to know that it is a Frost Giant that touches her skin.
"And the months have made you much more charming, if that is at all possible," replies Oza. "It is a pity that we are brought together again under such sad circumstance. With my assistance we will honor the dead this year in a manner befitting those brave warriors lost, Aesir and Vanir alike, and Asgard's most well-loved Queen."
At the mention of his mother, Loki feels a wave of nausea, but he focuses instead on Oza's speech. It is an obvious slight to Eleanor as she was responsible for the planning of the last two anniversary events. As she did an excellent job allowing for both sorrow and a celebration of lives well lived, the empress's subtle slight has some greater purpose. Loki does not look forward to discovering what that might be.
"Yes," Loki says. "The princess is more than capable, if past events are any indication, but I am sure she will welcome your consultation." He glances at his wife, who stares straight ahead, eyes unfocused and unseeing. "Do you agree, Eleanor?" he asks, touching her shoulder.
She startles and shivers, glancing at Loki before bowing slightly to the empress.
"Yup. Right. Great," she says.
The empress frowns and Loki bites back a sigh.
"Hello, Princess Eleanor," says the empress. "You look lovely, as always."
"Thank you," Eleanor murmurs, suddenly demure and shy. Again, she huddles in her cloak.
"Shall we?" says Loki, gesturing towards the bridge. "I am sure you would appreciate a few hours to settle in your rooms before the feast."
The empress takes his arm and Eleanor drifts along listlessly behind them.
"Eleanor—"
"I'm fine."
"Eleanor!"
"What, Loki?" she asks, flopping backward onto their bed.
He looms over her, taking her face between his hands to better study her features. When she shivers, he hastily removes himself from her proximity. "I make you cold."
"You don't make me cold. I'm just cold."
"What sickness is this?" he asks himself more than Eleanor.
"I'm not sick," she insists. "I just need to sleep."
Loki paces along the end of the bed, wringing his hands behind his back. Eleanor pulls a fur over her torso.
"You need not attend tonight," Loki says.
"I'm going."
"I'm capable of entertaining those I find exceptionally dull without you by my side. If you require rest, then rest," he says.
She peeks out from her fur to frown at him. "It's not you I'm worried about. Oza is obviously up to no good."
"Caught that, did you?"
"Obviously."
Loki lies down at Eleanor's side, careful not to touch her and add to her chill. He rolls to face her. "Before all other duties tomorrow morning, before you breakfast with Odin and before you receive Oza, you will allow Sigyn to examine you."
He fully anticipates an argument as Eleanor is stupidly stubborn in matters involving her own wellbeing.
"Fine," she says instead, he eyes fluttering closed. "It's fucking unnecessary, but I'll go if it will make you feel better, you big worry wart."
"It will make me feel better," he says.
Eleanor hums in reply, already mostly asleep. Watching her makes him ill with worry, but she agreed to see a healer so he will not "freak out" – as Eleanor is so fond of saying – until after said appointment.
He allows her to sleep for near an hour, until he hears Neela knock. He shakes her awake, kisses her forehead, and slips into the secret passage to get Odin his supper and prepare for the torturous night ahead.
"Well, that was super fun," Eleanor drawls. She reaches for a goblet of wine, thinks better of it, and selects water instead.
They are seated at a table on the raised platform at the head of the Great Hall, watching as guests finish eating and begin dancing. The hall is loud with laughter and music, so there is no need for Eleanor to whisper her words.
"Oza is not very subtle, is she?"
"Certainly not," Loki agrees, stealing Eleanor's wine as he watches the empress dance with a grinning Fandral.
They spent the entirety of the meal listening to the empress insult Eleanor. The message was clear. Eleanor's youth and foreign upbringing make her unsuitable to fulfill the duties normally conducted by the Queen of Asgard, as she has done since Loki began wearing Odin's face.
Oza's words were patronizing, insults wrapped in a sweet tone and supposed concern for Eleanor's wellbeing and the wellbeing of the Realm Eternal.
"What does she want?" Loki murmurs, searching for an answer.
"To marry you."
"Pardon?"
"Or maybe to marry you off," says Eleanor, yawning widely. "I don't know but she definitely has a candidate for the next Queen of Asgard."
"I am spoken for," Loki says, horrified by the possibility.
"Odin isn't."
Loki gapes at his wife before looking out to the dance floor in time to catch the Empress of Vanaheim watching him intently.
"It is ludicrous," Loki hisses into his wine. "A Vanir as Queen of Asgard? It is simply not done."
"Dude," Eleanor says. "Your brother married a mortal. You married a half-mortal. And you are a Jotunn ruling the whole thing."
"A fact none but three are aware of."
"Still, a Prince of Asgard married an abomination."
"Eleanor!"
"And that changed things. That is a positive. Asgard needs change. All this hate of different races and the hierarchy the Aesir are obsessed with is not good." She seems exhausted by her own indignation and she slouches low in her seat.
"What would you have me do? Marry the Vanir in the name of social progress?"
Eleanor rolls her eyes and steals Loki's water. "No. Not at all. Just be nice about it."
"Niceness, my sweet songbird, is my defining characteristic."
Eleanor snorts, yet another example of princess-like behavior.
"You sat quietly and allowed her to dismiss all your fine work these last few years," he murmurs, eyes once more on the dancers.
"Sorry."
"There is no need to apologize. I am merely commenting on how effectively you typically navigate such situations without insulting your opponent but also not giving in at all. I find myself taking your political skill for granted, made all the more apparent now that you are not at your best. Mother recognized this ability you have long before I did."
"I love you," she says, completely changing the subject.
Even with all their hours upon hours of practice, refraining from lavishing her with affection, physical and otherwise, in public is difficult.
It would not do to see Odin suddenly kiss Asgard's beloved princess.
"I am aware," he says instead.
"I promised Odin I'd come see you in the morning, Sigyn."
The healer accosts Eleanor as she leaves the Great Hall where the party for Oza still rages.
Because she's bailing early, Loki will have to stay late to avoid offending the Vanir.
"You are dead on your feet, Eleanor," says Sigyn, linking their arms and leading her towards the healing rooms.
Eleanor yawns widely.
"You will see me now," says Sigyn.
"Fine." Eleanor is too exhausted to argue.
Barely able to keep her eyes open, Eleanor climbs up onto Sigyn's golden slab.
"Can I have a blanket?" she mumbles.
"No," Sigyn says, starting up the soul forge. Her hands move in elegant circles and it makes Eleanor yawn again.
"Why are you so cranky?" she asks.
"Because you, my princess, make a terrible patient."
"I think it's Sif wearing off on you. She's turning you into a cranky person. You're spending too much time with her."
"I am not!"
Eleanor opens one eye, surprised to see Sigyn blush. Later she'll think about this bizarre reaction but now she's too tired. "I'm just going to lie here."
"Yes, Eleanor."
"I absolutely will not fall asleep."
Sigyn chuckles and Eleanor promptly falls asleep.
"Eleanor. Eleanor!" She is shaken from sleep far too soon and without opening her eyes she bats Siygn's hands away, "Wake up!"
There is panic in the healer's voice but it is still very difficult to open her eyes and sit up.
Sigyn is pale, her eyes wide and mouth held in a tight, grim line.
"Aw, fuck," Eleanor says, turning so her legs dangle off the side of the table. "Am I dying?"
"No." Sigyn looks up, pointing to the swirling golden strands that represent Eleanor's insides. She has Eleanor look at a tiny, fluttering light. "That is a heartbeat."
"My heartbeat?" It seems too small.
"No, Eleanor. You are with child."
Eleanor stares at her friend for a very long time. "Stop fucking with me."
"I do not understand your meaning." Sigyn tilts her head to the side and blinks. "My words are true. 'Tis the heartbeat of your child. It is very young."
Eleanor stares intensely at the fluttering, pulsing light. It does not seem real. She shakes her head.
"No, I'm not. It's not possible."
"You mean to say you have not recently participated in copulation?" asks the healer.
The last time she participated in copulation was yesterday morning but that is irrelevant being as it is physically impossible to create a half-Jotunn, quarter-Midgardian, quarter-Asgardian baby. Eleanor is no expert, but three is just way too many species for one kid.
"Eleanor, I do try to refrain from judgment, but you are a very recent widow."
Crossing her arms over her chest, Eleanor scowls. For the first time all day, she manages to fight her exhaustion.
"It's been over two years," Eleanor replies.
"Two years is nothing. A breath, a heartbeat. I do not understand how you could besmirch his memory so," Sigyn says.
The conversation is getting away from Eleanor. She is too shocked to deal with Sigyn's judgmental fretting. Ignoring the irrelevant concerns of her friend, Eleanor stares at the pulsing glow of what Sigyn claims is her baby's heartbeat.
"Holy shit," she murmurs. "I can't be pregnant."
"If you have participated in intercourse than it is always a possibility. No spell or potion is completely effective, although I must admit such failures are rare. Extremely rare. But given your unique heritage…"
Eleanor nods along, even though Sigyn can't understand why this can't be happening. Eleanor can't be pregnant because her husband is dead and lives as his fake father outside their rooms. Eleanor can't be pregnant because the only good parental role model she's had is dead for real. Eleanor can't be pregnant because the poor kid will be a mishmash of species.
"Fuck," Eleanor says with a groan. She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes and wants to crawl into bed.
"Is it Odin's?"
Eleanor snaps her head up, glaring at the healer who is glaring also.
"Why the hell would you ask me that?"
Sigyn blushes and fiddles with the soul forge to avoid looking at Eleanor. "You and the king are very close."
"Jesus, Sigyn. Not that close. He's like my father."
"I do not smile at my father in such a way. If my father looked at me like the king looks at you than I would be extremely alarmed."
Eleanor sighs.
Treating Loki like her king rather than her husband is the most difficult part of this insane arrangement. Apparently, she's not nearly as good at acting as she formerly thought.
"Are you going back to the party?" Eleanor asks. Somehow, she manages to slide off the table and stand on her shaky legs.
"I had not thought on it."
"Can you please? And tell Odin that I'm in his tower. Don't let anyone overhear you."
Sigyn bows. "Yes, my princess."
"Don't do that. Don't be mad at me. There's a lot I can't tell you, but I need you to not be mad at me."
With a heavy sigh, Sigyn turns to Eleanor. "I will help you but I cannot approve of your actions. Eleanor. You are having the king's illegitimate child. You have procreated with the father of your recently deceased husband. I do not approve."
"It's not Odin's," Eleanor says. "I'm not lying. It's not Odin's but I still have to tell him."
"Then whose?"
"I'll tell you when I can tell you, if I can tell you, but it's really not Odin's."
Sigyn glares for a few more moments before her stern disapproval melts away. Suddenly, she is opening cabinets and digging through drawers.
"I shall give you a brew to combat your exhaustion. Such lethargy is not uncommon among the Aesir. The chill you are experiencing, however, is not. Perhaps a mortal side effect?"
"Yeah." Eleanor thinks of the other half of her baby's make up. "Perhaps."
She wheels a food cart into Odin's rooms, mutters a greeting as the old man toddles down the steps, and then flees to Frigga's library where she curls up on a lounge under a mountain of furs.
Eleanor considers taking Sigyn's energy concoction, but it is late and she would rather sleep than deal with this stunning revelation.
For once rest does not come easy and she remains awake when Odin slips into the room. His posture is bashful, reminding Eleanor of a little kid embarrassed to be asking for access to his parent's bed at night.
"Mortal?" he asks, wringing his hands as he loiters by the doorway.
"Eleanor. My name is Eleanor and I'm not a mortal." This pregnancy would be so much less daunting if she were all one thing or all the other. "You know my name."
"Eleanor? Can I come in?" he asks.
"Of course. It's your library. You don't have to ask."
"All right." The former king shuffles closer. He takes a seat on the floor by her feet, tucking her blankets more securely around her.
"You are sad," he observes, squinting at her with his good eye.
"No, just tired."
"And frightened. Because of little baby blue."
She jerks under her mountain of furs and Odin huffs, irritated that Eleanor undid all his fine work tucking her in. He securely covers her feet and starts humming. After a few minutes Eleanor falls asleep.
"Walk me back to my rooms, Allfather?"
Loki glances up as the empress comes to stand by his chair. He regards her warily, but manages to keep Odin's features free of the concern and boredom Loki feels, the result of Eleanor's early departure.
He has no desire to accompany the empress anywhere, but if she retires for the evening that means Loki may retire also. According to the healer, his exhausted wife awaits him in Odin's chambers.
"Very well." He gets to his feet and manages to keep from jumping out of his skin when the old hag takes his arm. They depart the Great Hall and Oza insists they stroll through the gardens rather than taking the more direct route to the guest tower.
Although he'd very much enjoy snapping her neck and rushing to his ill wife, he acts out his part as king flawlessly. Surely during this excruciating stroll, the empress will reveal the true purpose of her visit.
Loki gives appropriate responses to Oza as she gushes about flora and the brightness of the stars in the sky, but after only a few minutes Loki loses patience.
"Oza," he says. His tone should be gentle, but Eleanor is ill and he needs to get to his wife. "Tell me of your true purpose in visiting. Not that you are unwelcome, but I would like to know."
The empress sighs and gracefully arranges herself on a bench, patting the seat at her side. With great reluctance he joins her.
"We are old friends, are we not?" she asks.
"We are," Loki agrees despite never liking the ill-humored ruler personally.
"And as such I would speak plainly, Allfather."
"Of course."
He dreads Oza's next statement, hoping Eleanor was wrong although she's rarely wrong.
His mother has been gone less than three years. It is nothing to a god, a blink. There are days when Loki himself forgets that going to Frigga is no longer an option and as strained as their relationship might have been near the end, Frigga was Odin's great love. Two and a half years is far too soon for Oza to propose a union for Odin.
"Is the princess quite all right? She seemed less lively than usual," Oza says.
"It has been less than three years since the attack," Loki says, hoping Oza understands the subtext here. "Her loss was great and there are days when her grief is difficult to bear."
"She must have been very devoted to your son."
"She remains so."
Oza sighs and looks to the stars. "Yes, but she was raised mortal. Three years to you and I might be nothing, but to her it is a substantial amount of time. At the very least you must begin to plan for her future."
"Her future?" This conversation is proving even less tolerable than Loki originally anticipated.
"She cannot remain here, bumbling through the duties of a rightful queen indefinitely," says Oza. Her voice is gentle but her eyes are sharp. They are bright – pale and grey and striking – in the dim light, a direct contrast to her dark skin and even darker hair.
"Eleanor was trained by Frigga herself. She has done a superb job assisting me."
"Superb for a half mortal, but Allfather, her claim is weak. She is a half mortal briefly married to a prince who was not truly a prince."
"Tread carefully, Oza," Loki says. His persona cracks slightly as his rage seeps through. "In his final moments Loki redeemed himself and I will hear no ill words against him. As for Eleanor, not only does she share the blood of my late wife, but Frigga chose her for this task. She is my only remaining family on this realm. Again, I urge you to tread carefully."
"I mean no offense and for now the arrangement will do, but even in a decade, two, three you will not be able to marry her, Odin."
Loki gapes. "I have no intention of marrying my daughter-in-law!"
"For true? Because you appear to be infatuated with the half-mortal."
Damn.
He should have anticipated this. They believe he is Odin without question, but hiding his love for Eleanor is vastly more difficult.
"I have no desire to marry Princess Eleanor."
"Oh? Then you will be open to my proposition?"
"Proposition?"
"She cannot rule Asgard at your side. It would be unseemly for a multitude of reasons and offensive to the other realms due to her inferior birth, but she is doubtless suited to rule a lesser realm."
Loki would rather hear Oza declare her undying love for his father. "Oh?"
"It will not be long before my Oleg takes the throne from me and he will be in need of an empress. They would make a good match."
The urge to snap her neck is once more upon him.
From a completely objective perspective, the heir to Vanaheim would make a decidedly bad match for Eleanor. She would expire from the boredom of it within the week of marriage to such a fool.
Loki struggles to be diplomatic but he cares less and less about maintaining good relations with Asgard's greatest ally with each passing moment. His newfound resolve to enjoy ruling once more is sorely tested and Loki has a great desire to flee these gardens, to flee Asgard, to simply disappear with his wife.
"And you would come here to rule as my queen," Loki finishes instead.
"That would be a good match also," Empress Oza getting to her feet, giving Loki a sad smile. "It is such a painful thing, learning to live without your partner after thousands of years together. We would be a good match too, both of us experiencing that. It is something to think on, but in a decade or two, or three, when such decisions need be made."
Loki manages a nod and does not shy away when Oza kisses his – Odin's – cheek.
The moment she disappears, Loki is on his feet and sprinting towards Eleanor where she awaits him in Odin's tower. Once he finds her he will admit to being wrong.
Because he was wrong, ruling Asgard.
It is not easy to take responsibility for his mistakes, but taking the crown was foolish. He sees that now as he no longer even wants it. Eleanor, as usual, was right, and pretending to be Odin is an unsustainable practice mainly because he is incapable of hiding his love for his wife.
Incessantly her friends and family call her back to Midgard, questioning her decision to stay here and they will not be so easily dismissed forever.
Loki should have anticipated Oza's suggestion, also. Marrying off royals is always the peak of political theater and Loki was a fool to think that Odin and Eleanor would be left on their own. Oza will be far from the last to covet Eleanor as currency in a political marriage.
For once, Loki is truly at a loss. He knows not how to proceed.
Perhaps he could pretend to lose his mind as the king and then simply disappear to Midgard. Thor would be forced to become king when the true and insane Allfather is discovered. Loki could wear a new face and Eleanor could move back into their old house. Acquiring a position at the Stark research facility would be easy and eventually he could court and marry Eleanor as a mortal. It would be a simple life, one he would only have to endure until everyone else Eleanor loves is dead and then they could move on to a more interesting realm.
He reaches the entry to the tower and sighs heavily, pausing outside the doors. There is much about this plan that Eleanor will surely find objectionable.
She would never leave Odin here alone for one.
There is time enough to think on it, and all that can be done now is see to his wife.
Eleanor's eyes flicker and open as he stands in the entry to Mother's library. She is reclined on a lounge while Odin sits at a nearby table, sketching and oblivious to Loki's presence.
Eleanor sits up and doesn't meet his eye. She rubs her hands over her face and then looks at his feet.
"Hi." Her whisper is strangled. Something in her expression keeps Loki from crossing the room to his wife as he usually would. "How…" She stutters, clears her throat. "How was the rest of the banquet?"
Loki shrugs and studies her more intently. Internally, he leans into their bond. The fear and distress he feels there makes him flinch.
"Eleanor?" He chokes out her name.
"It's okay. I'm okay."
He nods and remains frozen in place.
It takes some effort, wrestling with all the blankets and furs piled upon her, but Eleanor manages to get to her feet. When she crosses the room, he meets her in the middle. Odin remains absorbed in his art.
"You saw Sigyn," Loki murmurs.
Eleanor nods and, much to his horror, tears fill her eyes.
"My love," he whispers, reaching up to cradle her face between his hands. Her fingers dig into his wrists. "My love. Please, just tell me. What is the healer's diagnosis?"
"Fuck," she mutters. "It's not… I'm not. Diagnosis is not the right word. I mean, it's something, obviously but that makes it sound like a disease. And it is not a disease. Disease you can treat. Disease you can, you know… That sounds horrible but at this point in our life a disease would honestly be easier to deal with."
Loki can do nothing but blink.
Odin lets out a low whistle, almost as if he is disappointed in the whole current state of affairs.
"Pardon?" Loki finally manages. Eleanor attempts to take a step back but he does not let go of her face.
"I don't even know how to fucking say it, Loki."
"I must insist that you figure it out immediately, Eleanor." He is on the brink of a panic attack or perhaps his heart will explode in his chest. Regardless, he is in dire need of answers.
Eleanor winces and hisses through her teeth. "According to Sigyn," Eleanor says, speaking very carefully, "who is a healer, there is a heartbeat."
Loki snorts and moves one hand from her cheek down to her chest. "I need no healer to tell me this."
In response Eleanor laughs with no small amount of hysteria. Again she attempts words. Again she fails.
She gives up on speech entirely and takes Loki's wrist. Once more his hand is on the move. She directs it to her stomach and leaves it there.
And Loki stares.
Eleanor bites her lip and cries.
Odin sketches.
And Loki stares.
He stares until the truth of what she silently tells him seems to radiate up from the hand that remains on her stomach, all the way to his mind, and then Loki smiles. The grin blooms slowly until every part of him vibrates with pure joy.
He smiles as genuinely and widely as he ever has while Eleanor stares up at him like he's once more misplaced his sanity.
"Truly?" He marvels at his wife, pulling her a bit closer. Visions from the Tesseract, ones he repressed so deeply he's scarcely admitted to himself what he saw, dance behind his eyes. A blue haired, blue eyed little girl with her mother's musical talent and her father's grin, banging away at a piano. Eleanor's sloppy, sweaty grin after she labors to bring her daughter into the world. A feeling of such awe, such peace, brought around by the stunning realization that this family is irrevocably his.
But Eleanor does not have this joy and when he attempts to share it with her over their bond it is rejected most vehemently. Eleanor drowns in fear, in confusion.
"You don't want this?" Loki's throat is tight. Although he's always been well aware of Eleanor's ability to wound him fatally, in recent years he grew to believe that she never actually would.
With this rejection of their child, Eleanor hurts him gravely.
"What?" she squeaks, jumping back from him. "I don't… I can't…" She shakes her head and squeezes her eyes shut. "How is this even possible? This bab—" She clears her throat. "I'm two things. You are one different thing. This… It would be three different things! Will nature allow for it? Is it even possible? Or will… or will my body just take care of it in a couple weeks?"
She is unable to continue, her hands moving over her stomach. The gesture is so protective, so desperate, and Loki understands. It is obvious now that Eleanor's fear and confusion are perfectly legitimate, and Loki is deeply ashamed to have doubted her for even a moment.
And just because he's seen a child in the Tesseract, does not mean it will actually be so.
"Lie down immediately," Loki snaps, hands fluttering around Eleanor, unwilling to touch her in his increasing panic. His voice rises in pitch as he walks her back towards the couch. "We do not know the physical toll this will take on you, on the… fetus. Sit. Sit, and never move again."
For a few, blessed moments Loki's reaction was just perfect. He was so in awe, so happy. Of course that was completely short-sighted given the current situation, but perfect just the same.
Of course she had to ruin it with her goddamn questions and now a switch has flipped in her husband, making him just as freaked out as her.
"Dude!" she replies, gently lowering herself to the sofa. From his seat at the table Odin abandons his sketching to study them. "Stop freaking out! You can't freak out. Only one of us is allowed to freak out and it's going to be me so get your shit together and be the logical, rational one that I know you are."
Loki glares down at her, opening his mouth and then closing it without speaking.
"Blue," says Odin. To Eleanor, the tone is stern but supportive, a father acknowledging a son's scary situation while simultaneously telling him to step up.
Loki lets out a big breath, shoulders slumping. He runs his hands through his hair. "I will be the rational member of this partnership, allowing you to 'freak out' on both our behalfs? This is what you ask of me."
"Yes."
After sighing heavily again, Loki takes up his pacing.
"How the fuck is this even possible?" she says again.
"Eleanor, although I too have questions on both the how and the why now of our current state, I think our time would be better spent devising a plan of some sort that protects you and the… fetus—"
"Oh my fuck, stop saying fetus. What happened to birth control?" This is not a conversation they've had since the bunker when Eleanor had no choice but to trust Loki when he promised to take care of it.
"Birth control?" he asks, frowning.
"Yeah. Preventing pregnancy. That's something you do. Right?" He blinks at her. "Right!"
"Ah. No, not for sometime, as it were."
"What!" she shrieks.
"Eleanor, we have not used any preventative spells since the bunker."
"Why not!"
"I did not think this possible!"
They scowl at each other for a few silent moments.
"Children," Odin says with obvious disapproval.
Eleanor breaks first, tearing her gaze away from her husband to cry into her hands. She is exhausted and terrified and in no shape to be arguing with Loki. The couch dips and he is next to her, too cold but everything she needs.
"Come here," he murmurs, arm around her and pulling her into his chest. There she calms as Loki runs fingers through her hair.
Even his steadying presence is not enough to stop her brain whirling.
In a different reality – one where her husband isn't thought to be dead while actually committing treason everyday by impersonating the real, albeit insane, Allfather, and where their genetics are not of three different species – she'd want this. Under even halfway normal circumstances Eleanor would probably be a bit freaked by the immensity of such a thing, but these are totally fucked circumstances and Eleanor is more terrified than she can ever recall being before.
And she's lived through some real terror.
"Does anyone single even get pregnant here?" Eleanor whispers, trying desperately to see a possible solution through the litany of problems this pregnancy presents.
"Single?" asks Loki.
Eleanor's eyelids are so heavy. She can do nothing but close them.
"You know. Unwed mothers. Is that a thing?"
"I do not understand your line of questioning, but no. Very few Asgardians find themselves unintentionally with child."
"Well, guess I'll be the first. First half-mortal. First unwed pregnant princess. Taboo after taboo being broken here." Sleep is nearly upon her and she melts into her husband's side until he is abruptly gone and she finds herself tipped over and face down in the cushions.
She turns her head to scowl at him but finds she quite likes her new horizontal position.
"Unwed?" Loki says in full on looming menace mode.
If she was working on a few more hours sleep, if this wasn't the most terrified she's ever been, Eleanor probably would be able to figure out exactly what has him on the verge of a full-on diva tantrum.
But she's exhausted and quaking in fear, so she just can't.
"Do I really have to remind you that you are dead?" she asks.
"Dead," Loki repeats, fists clenching at his sides.
"Yeah. To everyone but the three people in this room, you are dead. Nearly three years dead. And because of that, everyone is going to assume, and understandably so, that you are not the father."
The glace he gives her, so dark and livid, makes Eleanor wince.
"What? Am I not stating facts here?" she mutters.
"You think I will continue to rule, to wear Odin's face. You think I will lie to my child? To make her think that she has no father, that I am simply her false grandfather? You think I would ever choose this? To dupe my child on this most fundamental of truths?"
He is hissing and spitting and furious, and probably under all that, hurt.
Given the way he grew up and the disastrous effect of those lies, how could she have thought for one moment that he would choose to continue the lie, passing it to their kid? She sees now that there is no way Loki would take the throne over his family. His real family, the one he chose and created. Their child – if a child that is half-Jotunn, quarter-Midgardian, and quarter-Asgardian even has a chance of surviving – will know their father, but Eleanor still can't see how that's possible with Loki dead and wearing Odin's face to rule the Realm Eternal.
"Oh fuck," whispers Eleanor. "Of course. I'm sorry."
Loki shakes his head. "Come," he says, suddenly sounding as weary as she feels. "You need rest. There is nothing more that needs be said on this night."
"But—"
"It can wait until you've rested, Eleanor."
He helps her to her feet and keeps a steadying arm around her waist. When she closes her eyes and accesses their bond, she can feel his lingering anger. In her exhaustion and fear, Eleanor's disappointed her husband, so while he leads them out of Odin's tower, Eleanor floods the bond with all the love she has for him, how perfect his original reaction to her pregnancy was.
Odin stops them before they can leave. He gives them what appears to be an overjoyed grin. Eleanor's stomach gets a gentle pat and her cheek gets a kiss. Loki doesn't even fight when Odin tugs his face close and kisses his forehead.
"What do we do?" Eleanor finally loses the battle against her tears when Loki warms her with magic and cuddles up with her in their bed.
"I promise you, Eleanor. This child is possible. All will be well in the end," he assures her, lips against her forehead.
"But you're dead," she whispers. "Odin's crazy. We can't just disappear. This baby is three things. We need help. We need healers. What are we going to do?"
Loki is quiet for too long as Eleanor cries into his chest. Despite her thorough exhaustion, sleep eludes her.
"Thor." Loki whispers his brother's name like a curse. "We have to tell Thor."
Wow! The big, long awaited one that I've only been gearing up for since chapter 10(ish) of Long Shadows. Damn, I am excited for this plot line.
Yeah, so a few (all, probably) of you might have seen this coming. I hope the big announcement did not disappoint.
Up next: the big announcement to big brother Thor. Who's excited? (The answer is me. And maybe you too?) Good news, that chapter is nearly done because I've had it written since like March.
Big thanks to the best betas!
1st beta: Heather
Final beta: Erica
See you so so soon!