A/N: Don't own don't sue
Lyrics at the beginning are from 'If I Knew' by Bruno Mars
Lyrics in the middle are from 'Think of Me' by Phantom of the Opera and 'Too Good at Goodbyes' by Sam Smith
If I Knew
Chapter Ten
I was a city boy
Right into danger's where I'd always run, a boy who had his fun
But I wouldn't've done
All the things that I have done
If I knew one day you'd come
Frigga made a strange noise in her throat and Eira glanced up curiously. They were sitting in the grounds under a huge crimson tree, fruit and wine spread out around them and the fluttering ladies of the court dispersed under the surrounding trees speckling the hill. Frigga was reading her personal letters whilst Eira devoured a book beside her in companionable silence.
"Your Grace?"
Frigga gestured towards her with the letter and Eira glimpsed a familiar family crest embossed on the head of it in glimmering ink. Frigga saw Eira's expression change, the shutters flash into place and her pretty face turning into a mask.
"Interesting news, Your Grace?" She asked casually, tapping a long fingernail on the cover of the book.
Frigga shrugged, a slightly devious smile twitching her mouth. It was one of Loki's smiles and it unnerved Eira to see it.
"Your father requests permission to attend court."
Eira smiled sweetly, her face betraying nothing of her inner thoughts.
"Does he say why?"
"I imagine he misses his daughter." Frigga teased, sipping her wine absently.
Eira chose not to reply, tilting her head slightly so the breeze brushed her hair away from her face. There was only one reason her father and stepmother would want to visit court and she did not have the answer they wanted. She felt a flicker of anger in her belly. Why were they interfering in her life? And, more importantly, how was she supposed to sneak into the dungeons with them sniffing around.
"Lady Eira."
Eira glanced impatiently over her shoulder, blinking in surprise to see Prince Thor looming over her. It was the first time she had seen him all evening, given that the feast was being thrown in his honour. It had been a slightly more interesting feast than usual, celebrating another of Thor's victories. She had gossiped with the few Ladies at Court she could tolerate, had drank copious amounts of rich wine with the Queen and danced with several Lords. She had done her best to avoid her father and stepmother as much as possible. Two days in their company had sufficiently reminded her of why she had left home and kept her visits since few and far between.
"Your Highness." Eira got to her feet so she could curtsy.
Thor bowed respectfully, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling from excess.
"Would you dance, My Lady?"
She eyed him suspiciously. She made polite conversation with Thor as her position as his mother's confidant dictated and he was polite and courteous to her and seemed not to dislike her company when they were thrown together. But they did not socialise. However, she couldn't very well refuse him so she smiled as he took her hand and led her between the busy tables to the dancing area. They took up their positions as the music transitioned smoothly from one to song to another, facing each other in line with the rest of the dancers.
Thor was an effective, if somewhat graceless, dancer and everyone at Court was taught the steps to these dances from the cradle. Eira could feel predatory eyes on them as she twirled, could see Frigga's gaze fixed on them as she ducked under Thor's outstretched arm. She was somewhat suspicious that he would suddenly now show her attention so publicly when they had previously only mixed as required at court. Did he suspect something about her relationship with his brother? Did he have spies in the dungeons? Was he about to warn her away from him? She smiled thinly at the very idea.
"You seem distracted, Lady Eira."
Eira hurriedly smiled at Thor as she gave the little hop the dance required, lifting her skirts slightly out of the way. He gave her a surprisingly shrewd look as he drew her towards him, her corsetted bosom briefly brushing against his huge barrel-chest.
"Apologies, Your Highness. It has been a long night."
Thor grinned as they swung towards each other, revolving on the spot with one of his big hands on her waist, before gliding back into their opposite lines. The music changed to a much slower waltz and Eira eyed Thor warily as he took her waist in his hand and held her hand aloft rather elegantly.
"I've been waiting to speak with you, My Lady." Thor said, lowering his gravelly voice to a faint rough murmur over the gentle music.
Eira tensed for a moment before forcing herself to relax and pasting a bland smile across her face. Thor was grinning down at her, his big hand warm through her satin dress and she was starting to feel slightly concerned at what he was intending.
"Oh? I'm honoured, Your Highness." She murmured, averting her eyes demurely as she scrambled to think of a way to get out of this.
"I'm concerned about my mother." Thor said abruptly as they circled gracefully around the floor.
Eira just managed to stifle a relieved laugh, suddenly enjoying the dance much more. This she could handle. She might even try and enjoy it, just for fun.
"I assure you, Your Highness, the Queen is in good spirits." Eira smiled, spinning in unison with the other Ladies until Thor was behind her, their hands interlocked.
"She has been despondent since the events with my brother." Thor grimaced, as they shifted their feet gracefully around each other.
"It upset her greatly." She admitted, pressing back against him just a little.
Prince Thor was not her type, but it never hurt to see if she could push the right buttons on an important man.
"He was always her favourite."
She tilted her head to look up at Thor curiously. He did not seem jealous or morose that his mother preferred his brother, he seemed to just be acknowledging the fact as a given. Curious.
"You will… care for her, Lady Eira?"
She stared at him, almost missing a step of the dance in her surprise. Thor was studiously avoiding her eye, his jaw set stubbornly and his cheeks ruddy with drink and something else.
"Of course, Your Highness." She glanced across at Frigga, laughing privately with the King on the dais. "I am… very fond of Her Grace." She admittedly grudgingly.
Thor threw his head back and laughed, his eyes glimmering brightly and Eira found herself smiling despite herself. She found Prince Thor dull and predictable, but there was something about him that was inherently endearing.
Returning to her seat, she walked smack into her father. It was too late to change direction so she plastered on a grin and dipped into a polite curtsy.
"Father. Are you enjoying your visit?"
Her father grinned happily, his face a brilliant shade of red from drinking and gambling with the other Lords. He reached out and took her hands in his, squeezing lightly.
"Very much so, daughter. Very much."
He leaned towards her, planting a dry kiss on her cheek and hurrying back to the card tables. Eira steeled herself and turned to her stepmother. She looked pretty tonight, her thick raven hair coiled on top of her head and her champagne-coloured dress draping elegantly over her body.
"My Lady." She dipped respectfully.
It's not that she didn't get on with her stepmother, there was no bad feeling between them and she had been a part of her life since she was a small child. It was just… they had different ideas of what Eira's future should be.
"Eira." She gestured and Eira took her arm, dutifully falling into step as they circled around the hall. "You seem friendly with Prince Thor."
Ah. That didn't take long. Eira just managed to restrain herself from rolling her eyes.
"He is an amicable person." Eira said flatly, deliberately directing their steps so they could see Thor dancing with a pretty little blonde goggling up at him in awe.
"He is a very eligible match."
"Indeed." They nodded politely at a gaggle of Ladies as they passed. "For any of the innumerable Ladies here." Eira said pointedly.
"Lady Eira. Lady Atla."
They both turned to find Frigga, curtseying in unison. Eira hovered, trying not to show how mind-numbingly bored she was as Frigga and her stepmother exchanged pleasantries. She had been sent here to find a suitable husband and had done her very best to do the complete opposite. Their arrival here was interfering with the life she had made for herself and, as much as she loved them, she was ready for them to head home. Having them here was like being a chaperoned child again.
"Eira."
She blinked out of her brooding daze to find her stepmother beckoning her imperiously from beside Thor and Frigga. She stifled a curse, forced a smile to her face and drifted over to them.
Loki was pouting, sulking that his nightingale hadn't been to visit him. She could never understand how dull it was being confined to these four walls for all eternity. No one understood his suffering. His mother had materialised in his cell a good hour ago and had bored him rigid since talking about court gossip and his brother's triumphs.
"She's unable to visit." Frigga said suddenly and he glared at her. "Her family are at court."
Loki's scowl deepened. He did not enjoy sharing. How dare she abandon him for something so trivial.
"They are looking into her marriage prospects."
Frigga hurriedly averted her gaze when Loki's face turned black with anger.
"What nonsense." He managed to get out in an icy voice.
Frigga shrugged, tightening her cheeks to mask her gleeful smile. She'd never admit it but she shared a mischievous streak with her favourite son.
"Not at all. Her family is of good character and wealthy. She is young and beautiful, in favour at court. A very good prospect for a minor Lord."
"A weak, vapid fool no doubt." Loki curled his lip contemptuously, he had no time for the fools at court.
"I'm sure her father will decide what is best." Frigga smiled sedately, as if she thoroughly agreed that parents should sell their children off to the highest bidder, a tradition she had fought to wipe out in her Court.
Loki bit his tongue to keep his response in his mouth. His mother was deliberately provoking him and he would not give her the satisfaction. Once it was clear that Loki would not engage with her attempts at conversation, Frigga took her leave, emerging from the trance-like state the spell left her in wearily. She found Eira playing cards with her step-mother and several Ladies in one of the Queen's outer private chambers. She looked as stunning as ever, her glittering hair coiled at the crown of her head and her mint-green dress turning her bare arms to gold. She practically leapt out of her seat when Frigga beckoned for her and she hurriedly excused herself and fell into step behind the Queen.
"Are you enjoying your family visit?" Frigga asked curiously as Eira helped her disrobe and climb into the steaming bathtub already prepared.
"Of course, Your Grace." Eira said politely, pouring a fresh jar of scented oil into the water.
"Have they found you a suitable match?"
Eira dropped the oval bar of soap into the water in surprise. She eyed Frigga warily as she retrieved it.
"Not that I know of, Your Grace."
Frigga lifted her eyebrows as Eira ran the rose-petal encrusted soap over her arms, somewhat enjoying the expression in her brilliant green eyes. She knew very well that her son was a master manipulator, but he was remarkably unobservant when it came to his own emotions. Eira was somewhat more aware of herself but it was inherently amusing to Frigga that the two of them were too stubborn to admit what was right under their noses. Amusing and more than a little entertaining.
"Have… have they approached you, Your Grace?" Eira asked in a strained voice as she used a soft sponge to wipe away the soap.
No one at court could marry without Royal approval. Odin was only interested in granting this when it affected his political interests so it usually fell to the Queen. If her parents were contemplating a match for her, they would have spoken to Frigga for consent to begin negotiations. Frigga let the question hover ominously for a moment for own amusement, before shaking her head. Eira's body visibly relaxed and she discarded the sponge, crossing the marble room to retrieve a golden jug.
"Would you be concerned, if they had?" Frigga queried, tilting her head back so Eira could pour fresh water onto her hair. The scent of roses filled the room, permeating the steamy air.
"I… I'm not sure, Your Grace." Eira replied honestly, shifting position so she could begin to comb the twists and tangles out of Frigga's hair. "I hadn't thought this situation would arrive so soon." She paused for a moment. "I thought I had more time."
Frigga glanced at the mirrored wall opposite the tub when she felt Eira's hands still on her hair. Their reflections were hazy from the steam but Eira was peering intently at something only she could see, her face a mask of concentration. In fact she almost looked as if she'd been struck by one of Thor's thunderbolts. Frigga decided to take pity on her, given how stricken the poor child suddenly looked.
"Why don't I entertain your parents with the King tonight." Frigga suggested, a sly smile flickering across her mouth. "Leave you free to pursue your own… interests."
Eira carefully schooled her face into a polite mask of gratitude, but Frigga could see her eyes were sparkling.
She was almost caught on her way to the dungeons. She was rounding the corner, admittedly in more of a hurry than usual and therefore somewhat careless, when her step mother's strident tones reached her and she all but skidded to a halt. To her everlasting shame, she ducked into an alcove behind a gigantic statue like a coward and waited for the Ladies to pass by, twittering inanely about some nonsense.
She paused at the dungeon door, smiling at the guard politely. It was her guard, she realised belatedly, the one she had toyed with in her bedroom. She felt heat flush up her neck as his eyes followed her through the doorway and into the darkness of the dungeon. She puzzled over the encounter as she descended the stone stairs. She had never felt shy or embarrassed when she had encountered one of her dalliances before. Why was she practically squirming now?
Just before she reached Loki's cell, she carefully wiped her face of emotion and slipped on her mask. She had not been away from him this long since the visits had started and she wasn't certain what his reaction was going to be.
Spoilt brat, as it turned out.
He pointedly ignored her as she stepped into his cell, bringing with her a cloud of jasmine and frangipani. He felt his mouth water slightly, which only irritated him further. The fact that she looked more stunning than ever only enflamed his anger. Her scented hair was in an elaborate heavy braid over one shoulder, glinting in the ugly cell lights. Her mint green dress hugged her slender waist and emphasised the curve of her hips, her delicate ankles peeking out from under the shortened hem. He had decided to ignore her as punishment for abandoning him for so long, until he caught sight of the faint flush on her chest colouring her cheeks and pretty ears.
He frowned. His eyes narrowing thoughtfully. She avoided his gaze, turning to pour herself a goblet of wine from his table. She was feeling guilty of something. His abandonment? Possibly. Curiosity got the better of him and he tossed his book aside. He almost missed it, but he could have sworn there was a flicker of suspicion in her eyes as she handed him the goblet. Given that he was not supposed to have guests, he was only permitted one goblet which meant they must share. He wondered if she knew that he had never shared something like this with anyone before, not even Thor or Frigga when he was a child. The perks of Royalty meant nothing ever needed to be shared or handed down. To him, even sharing something as simple as a goblet of truly terrible wine, was an act of intimacy.
"You seem… nervous, nightingale." He murmured, staring at her unflinchingly over the rim of the goblet.
Usually she met his gaze head on but her eyes slid away for a split second before meeting his again.
"I was uncertain of my reception, Prince." She said carefully, tilting her head slightly.
Loki scowled. She had trapped him again. If he continued to sulk at her she would know she was right. Infuriating woman. His fingers twitched slightly with the urge to throttle her as a faint grin flitted across her face.
"Why would that be, nightingale?" He said gaily, slipping the goblet from her grasp and gesturing grandly around his cell.
She glared at him, sensing the provocation but choosing to overlook it. He watched her as she sank into the uncomfortable chair with remarkable dignity, her elegant swan-like neck exposed in all its glory. His fingers twitched again as a drop of molten desire stirred beneath his belly.
He turned away from her, crossing the cell idly with the goblet held loosely in his hand. She was on edge, worried that her long absence had given him time to revise the progress they had made. He studied her reflection in the cell wall curiously. She was watching him carefully, her clever eyes narrowed as she concentrated and her pretty mouth pursed.
"I believe your parents are in search of a husband for you."
She blinked in surprise at the lightening subject change. Immediately, he could see the cogs turning as she tried to understand his angle. Colour crept along her cheekbones, only making her eyes more captivating.
"That is their plan." She admitted curtly, not in the least interested in this topic of conversation.
"Not your plan?" He tossed back idly, sipping the dregs of the wine.
"Certainly not." She blurted out before she could help herself.
He turned back to face her. She held out her hand imperiously for the goblet and he felt his lips lift slightly. He extended the goblet towards her, his eyebrows curving challengingly. She didn't move, tilting her wrist slightly until the polish on her nails flashed in the light. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of rising to retrieve the wine from him. No matter, he could allow her a victory or two. Being magnanimous was not in his nature, it pleased him to wield such tools on occasion. He stepped towards her, placing the goblet in her outstretched hand with a flourish of his free hand.
"Marriage is not in your future?" He continued, graciously topping up the wine in the goblet from the golden pitcher.
"Not in the near future, no." She said icily, gulping down some of the wine.
Loki moved beside her, taking the goblet back. Their fingers brushed and he saw her shiver slightly, even as he felt a treacherous flutter at the base of his spine.
"I will not be trapped." She murmured, so quietly he barely heard her.
He realised they were both still holding onto the goblet, fingers touching faintly on the delicately engraved metal. She followed his gaze, staring at their interlacing fingers curiously. His hands were paler than hers, long slender fingers tapering elegantly. The dark polish on her long nails glimmered in the light from the cell.
"Is marriage a trap?" He pondered disinterestedly, sliding the goblet from her grip.
On the few occasions his father had raised the topic of marriage for his sons, his mother had immediately put her foot down. Provided her sons chose to love a girl not too far down the social ladder, Frigga saw no reason to interfere in their love lives. Loki had not cared either way; he would go his own way regardless of a wife at home or not. Naturally he had never thought about it from the theoretical wife's point of view. Why would he bother.
He looked down at her, her chin tilted defiantly as she gazed up at him. He tried to imagine her shackled to some fool Lord, hosting dinners and balls and providing his land with heirs. What nonsense. Such a dangerous spirit needed someone who could keep up with her. Her lips parted slightly, as if words were perched on the tip of her tongue. He turned away.
"Sing me a song, nightingale."
She closed her mouth, something almost like disappointment flitting across her eyes.
"You must think that I'm stupid
You must think that I'm a fool
You must think that I'm new to this
But I have seen this all before
I'm never gonna let you close to me
Even though you mean the most to me
'Cause every time I open up, it hurts
So I'm never gonna get too close to you
Even when I mean the most to you
In case you go and leave me in the dirt
But every time you hurt me, the less that I cry
And every time you leave me, the quicker these tears dry
And every time you walk out, the less I love you
Baby, we don't stand a chance, it's sad but it's true
I'm way too good at goodbyes."
Loki wanted to squirm and he furiously fought the urge. He wasn't certain if she was mocking him or not. She didn't seem to be, in fact she seemed almost sad. What was bothering him was that he couldn't tell if this was an act or not. Curious.
"Ask your question, nightingale."
She sighed, turning away from him. There was that look again. Disappointment. He was certain that was what it was. It was a fleeting impression, darting across her face leaving a shadow behind. After a moment, she faced him.
"Should I accept a marriage, if one is arranged?"
He blinked. That was not at all what he had expected. He felt a sudden rush of something, flooding his insides and boiling in his chest. Cold and hot at the same time. He rarely bothered trying to identify his emotions so he didn't look too closely, but something must have shown on his face because she was studying him inquisitively.
"Nightingale, I'm the last God who would advise anyone to go against the wishes of their parents." His teeth flashed that wolfish grin and her saw her lips twist to contain a reciprocal smile. "However I cannot see a future for someone such as you, as some lowly Lord's Lady, fluttering around my mother for all eternity."
It was the closest thing to a genuine compliment he had ever given her and he watched her neck flush pleasantly, her eyes widening in surprise and her lips parting slightly.
"Do they have any particular fool in mind?"
She cocked her head, amusement suddenly glimmering in her eyes.
"My step mother has her mind set on your brother."
Loki was glad his hands were clasped behind his back. If they hadn't been, she would have seen his fist clench convulsively and seemingly of its own volition. It was only due to his impressive self control that his face remained impassive as she studied him carefully for his reaction.
"A fool indeed." He laughed carelessly, unclenching his fist behind his back. "I highly doubt the King will allow that."
Her eyes narrowed at the implied insult, true though it may be. That was always the way with her Prince; a compliment out of nowhere swiftly followed by a pointed insult to ensure any pleasure the compliment may have induced vanished rapidly.
"I certainly hope not." She shrugged one shoulder, the braid resting across it shifting slightly.
Loki waited but she did not elaborate and damned if he was going to ask her to explain.