When dawn breaks the next day your eyes are sore and scratchy, but dry. Not for lack of grief - you've cried all your tears. You feed Magni at your breast in silence.
Your poor son. Your hands tremble as you adjust the blanket he's wrapped in. Your own father had died as a soldier when you were still a child, a casualty of one of Odin's wars, and your mother always grew teary-eyed thinking about him. You had been too young to understand, but her grief had passed onto you. Silently, you swear it won't be the same for your boy, though he would never know the father that had loved him so dearly.
You allow yourself one last cry, quiet and mournful, before resolving not to let Magni witness your sadness. Any further tears you had would have to be wept in private. He needed you, and for his sake you must be strong.
For hours you simply sit and hold him, your throat too raw to sing. Magni falls asleep anyway, just before breakfast is brought to you. The servant who enters is clad in black, and he bows deeply and respectfully. "Your Grace, the Allfather requests your presence in the Allmother's quarters."
"Thank you." The words are hoarse and robotic.
He pauses at the door. "If I may... my sincerest condolences, Your Grace."
It takes you a painful moment to compose yourself, and you just about manage a nod before the door closes once again. You brush past the tray; the food on it turning your stomach. Moving to your wardrobe you realise that all your clothes are in the bedchamber you share with Thor - shared with Thor. Taking your son, you leave the room and walk numbly along the familiar trail.
Once you reach it however, you falter. You don't want to open the door.
But you must, so you do.
It's exactly the same. Rich burgundy curtains, the ashy remnants of a roaring fire in the hearth - beside the sprawling fur rug, Thor's boots are kicked under the bed and a red tunic is folded atop the chest. It's a terrible room, and you suddenly feel nauseous.
Nonetheless, you set Magni down on the bed carefully and make your way to the armoire. Tears fill your eyes as the familiar smell of Thor's soap washes over you and his clothes assault your eyes; the leather tunic you'd embroidered for him to mark your engagement is the most recently worn and still bears wrinkles.
"Do you like it?" you asked anxiously. You'd never made a betrothal gift before, much less made a gift for a prince, and you couldn't help but think he's certainly seen finer. You're hardly a natural seamstress - norns, what if he laughs?
Thor inspected it closely and your heart hammered. He looked up at you with a wonderful, blazing smile. His eyes burn. "I'll wear it every day."
He had not, obviously, it was a ridiculous thing to promise. But he'd worn it regularly; not a week had gone by without him reaching for it, and you slowly accepted that he truly did like it after all. Unbidden, your fingertips brush over the smooth material. A block rises in your throat and you grab the tunic and rip it from the wardrobe, shoving it deep down into the chest and slamming the lid. You can't bear to look at it.
Breathing heavily, you glance over at Magni. He's still asleep.
Once again you go to the wardrobe. This time you studiously ignore his clothing and rustle through your gowns. Red, cream, blue, red again, purple, gold, navy... "I don't have any black clothes," you say aloud. Of course not.
You call a guard. He averts his eyes when looking at you. "Go to the seamstress and fetch me a black gown." He does as he is told.
Sitting at the dresser, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are bloodshot, lips chapped. Your hair is a knotted mess and purple shadows are appearing in the hollows of your cheeks. You look like a dead thing.
Suddenly overcome with the need to look normal - to look like yourself again - you stand and grab the water basin. You scrub your face and brush your hair mercilessly. You pinch your cheeks and line your eyes, dab colour on your lips. When the guard returns with a dress you are practising keeping your expression blank in the mirror. You come close, but your mouth twists downwards every time.
You don the dress; a heavy thing edged with gold thread. It's only once you wear it that you realise with absolute clarity that you are a widow. Your hands tremble again and you clench them closed.
At last you are ready to face the world; or so you think until you open the door and Magni's three nursemaids curtsy low to you. "No," you say automatically, holding your son a little closer. You must look desperate. "I don't need you today, thank you."
They exchange nervous glances. The most senior of the three slowly speaks. "Your Grace, the Allfather recommends-"
"I said no!" The frantic note in your voice surprises you and they each look taken aback. You force yourself to calm down. "Thank you ladies, but as I said, not today." They flee without another word. With a deep breath you begin to walk to Frigga's rooms.
The Allmother's solar is the informal meeting room. It is light and welcoming, but today it feels thick and stifling. The old queen is sat on a chair - pale and thin and all in black, her large eyes are wet. Odin stands behind her, a hand on her shoulder. His face is blank and heavy.
Frigga attempts to smile at you when you enter, and her eyes are so like Thor's that you have to look away. Skirt brushing on the floor, you take the nearest seat. Magni sleeps on, blissfully unaware of his family's heartbreak. "Tea, dear?" She offers, her voice trembling. You shake your head.
The silence goes on and on, none of you willing to speak the awful truth. Frigga begins to weep.
A dark shadow moves in your periphery and you flinch. Loki had made no noise since being there. He goes to Frigga's side and takes her hand, muttering words of comfort to her. At length she nods and dabs at her eyes, her hand tight on his. He returns to his spot.
It seems to break Odin out of his trance. "We know why we're here," he says. His voice is quieter than usual. "You must be wondering how Thor died." Your lungs constrict instantly. You do not want to know. "Yesterday morning, Loki entered his tent. As you know, he often shared it with his friends, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif. All of them are dead."
You raise your head, mouth agape. All of the Warriors and Lady Sif? Odin continued. "We do not know who the culprit is. So far nobody knows anything and we are still searching. Rest assure, we will find whoever did this."
"Likely assassins," Loki speaks. You look towards him. His face betrays nothing. "We were dealing with magical forces; it is not unthinkable that they sent someone aided by magic to sneak past our defenses and kill Thor."
You close your eyes. "Magic was involved," Odin said flatly. His one eye holds Loki's gaze. "It may well have been assassins. But who and why remains to be seen."
Loki stares back at his father and for the first time he looks unnerved.
You interrupt their silent war, "What does Heimdall say?"
Odin looked back at you. "Nobody can find Heimdall."
Shock runs through you. "What?" you gasp.
"We are looking for him presently."
"But the bifrost-"
"Cannot be utilised, nor should it be," the Allfather says gravely. "Asgard is on lockdown. Trade will continue, but in much smaller measures. We must begin to self-sustain for the foreseeable future."
You stare numbly, politics the furthest thing from your mind. Heimdall gone, Thor's friends slaughtered, and Thor dead by an invisible hand? A hot, burning feeling started in the pit of your stomach. "What happened to his face?"
Odin stops speaking at your interruption. Loki and Frigga look towards you. "What do you mean?" The Allfather asks brusquely.
"What happened-" the feeling is growing, melting through your arms and legs and chest- "what happened to his face?" They say nothing. Dimly, Frigga starts to cry again. You can't stop, the words spilling out. "Someone murdered my husband." You raise your eyes to Odin, full of rage. "They murdered my husband and I want to know how."
"Stop it," he snaps at you, moving to Frigga. Her shoulders are shaking. "We will not think of such things. Thor is dead," he wraps an arm around his wife's shoulders, "and we must all prepare. At midday he will lie in state for people to pay their respects, and five nights hence we will send him to Valhalla." Odin's voice gains strength and conviction. "We are a family. We must stand together."
Odin is true to his word. At midday, a bier is erected in the throne room with Thor's body upon it. Incense burns in the braziers and garlands of perfumed flowers surround him to hide the smell of death. The aroma is so pungent it makes your eyes burn. He wears a golden mask, crafted by the dwarves of Niflheim into a perfect cold replica of his beloved face.
The line of people queuing to pay their respects is long and quiet. The first day you stand silently beside the bier, murmuring thanks to those who bow and wish good fortune for yourself and your son. Magni does not leave your arms unless it is for Frigga's. You wonder about the families of Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun, Heimdall. Volstagg had nine children, Hogun two. Sif was an only child. You cannot imagine the grief they are enduring.
You step down from the bier and go to the throne. Odin sits above all, observing the proceedings and acknowledging the mourners who kneel at his feet. "Allfather." He tilts his head towards you. "I would ask your permission in this trying time, to send aid to the families of Thor's friends. They served Asgard well, and died at his side. Their families will suffer."
Odin considers you with a sigh. "Very well."
You thank him and return to your station at Thor's side. That night dinner is brought to your chamber; no doubt the kitchens are busy preparing for the funeral feast. Lorelai sits opposite you - she had insisted on accompanying you, and you suspected it was to try and wheedle you into eating.
She tries to distract you with mindless conversation, but you simply nod or reply shortly. At last, she lapses into silence, eyeing you worriedly as you pick at your plate. "I know it's difficult," she says quietly, for once serious, "but you mustn't neglect yourself. Thor wouldn't want this."
"Thor can't want anything." Your voice breaks a little at the end and you quickly drink from your goblet, washing away the lump in your throat. Magni is in the nursery, but you've got this far without crying, you can continue. "Did you see the mask?"
"I did. It looks very like him."
No it doesn't, you think. "I keep thinking it's a sick joke," you admit instead. "That he'll come walking back in, still..." Lorelai lays her hand on your arm. "They butchered him," you whisper. You rub your fingertips together. The memory of his blood clinging to them will not go. Suddenly you cannot hold back - your shoulders heave as you cry violently. Instantly Lorelai is at your side, cradling you in her arms, and you cling to her.
"I want to know who did it," you say through tears against her shoulder. "I want to know why."
She shifts a little, and you look up at her. Lorelai's face is uncertain and you frown. "What?" She strokes your hair, eyes flickering about. You pull back. "What is it, Lorelai?"
Uncomfortably, she sits back down and meets your gaze. "There are... rumours, among the soldiers." Your breathing slows. "They say..." she glances at the door before continuing. "They say Loki found him."
Your eardrums thrum. "Yes?"
"They say he was found over Thor with blood on his hands." The two of you stare across the table, one face drawn tight and the other pale. "The soldiers think he did it."
"What soldiers?" you ask faintly.
"My brother, most of the garrison. It's just a rumour, there's no evidence..." You sit back against your chair, staring at the table.
Tell me, are you worried for your beloved?
Dizziness swarms around your head. You do not eat a bite.
Each day passes much the same. You stand at Thor's side as long as you can, accepting condolences, and at night you collapse into bed to sleep restlessly, before rising to do it all over again. Odin oversees the funeral arrangements, and you do not have the energy to fight him on it.
Four days pass before you can bring yourself to be alone with him. Thor has slowly been paling, the pink of his skin dulling into grey. The evening before his funeral, you go down to the hall where he lies, still in your mourning gown. The palace is quiet and the guards let you through without a word. When empty, the hall seems massive and your husband seems small, lying under huge stone arches, surrounded by flickering braziers.
Hjaldskalf looms overhead, blanketed in shadows. Your eyes linger on it; the throne where your husband had sat. The seat that now belonged to the tiny boy that still nursed at your breast. Just thinking about it fills you with dread, and you push the thought away. Magni was only a child - surely in the meanwhile Odin could resume his duties...
You stare down at that terrible golden mask. If you could only see Thor's eyes one more time. All you wanted to say to him had left your tongue and you struggle to speak. "How could you leave me?" you finally question the corpse. It lies silent. "I don't know what to do, I don't know who to turn to..." The body blurs as tears fill your eyes.
"I'm afraid without you," you whisper. Thor does not reply. You sob beside him, his coldness radiating against you. You do not know how long you are stood there, weeping, but finally your tears slow and cease and your gasps turn to heavy breaths.
You lean down until your face hovers just above his. "I will tell our son about you," you promise. "He'll never forget you. Nobody will. I swear it." You break that final distance to press your lips against the cold gold, resolutely pushing down the bile that rises in your throat when you catch the scent of rotting flesh. The metal warms under your skin.
When you rise again, you catch the sound of muffled footsteps coming down the hall. You glance askance to see Loki's tall form striding towards the bier, his golden helmet tucked under one arm. You freeze, instantly clenching your fists in the folds of your gown. Eyes fixed on Thor, you listen tensely as Loki climbs the steps towards you. He pauses and you can feel him looking at you. "Mourning suits you, my lady." You do not reply.
Loki comes to stand opposite you, a mere metre between yourself and him. Thor's body lies in the middle of that space. He sets his helmet down on the edge of the table, beside his brother's battered. head. Silence passes before he speaks again. "You've been here every day, haven't you? Your loyalty to my brother's corpse is admirable."
The skin on your knuckles goes white. "If only the same could be said for us all." You look at him at last, with hard eyes. "Where have you been?"
He does not bristle at your demanding tone as usual, and it fills you with rage. Loki simply raises a brow. "I'm afraid I've been rather busy searching for the murderer of my dear departed brother."
Without a response, you return your gaze to its previous place. Loki's fingers trace the pattern of Thor's red cloak. "Only a coward could have done such a thing," you say acidly.
"A coward - or someone very clever." You look at him mutely and he continues. "They say the perfect crime is one without a suspect. We don't have one." He does not sound overly saddened.
"Don't we?" Your voice is sharp.
Loki is still staring at his brother's body, with contemplative eyes. "No. I think we will have to look inwards, to our own ranks. I don't know how an assassin could have got past our defences unless they were already inside."
"Or unless they were someone Thor trusted." He says nothing, and you have to blink away the moisture that has accumulated in your eyes before speaking again. "Where were you?"
It does not come as you had intended - more beseeching than accusing. Nonetheless, Loki looks at you in surprise. It takes him a moment to find his tongue. "I... I was busy."
"Busy," you echo. The buzzing that has been steadily in your ears is getting louder again.
"Yes," his voice is testy, "busy." At length, he drops his gaze. You stare at him, the hairs on your neck standing straight and cold. "Whoever did this meant to. The blow... could only have been inflicted by someone who wanted to do so."
"By a natural killer," you say, the words sounding faint in your ears.
Loki's eyes meet yours. They are dark and cold. My brother says he's a natural killer. "Yes," he agrees. "A natural killer."
Sudden fear climbs over you; creeping along your arms and twining around your throat. You cover your mouth with your hand as your breath quickens and you bite back sobs of terror. Thor had always been too trusting. How many times had you told him Loki was sly, that nobody knew what he did in those military camps away from Asgard's watch?
"Thor," you began, carefully washing the blood out of the cut in his cheek. "This is ridiculous - you could have lost your eye."
"Loki would never," he argued. "We were only having a spat."
"A spat? On the training grounds?" Your voice rose. "For Yggdrasil's sake, you're the king! This is too close to a real injury!" Thor rolled his eyes and your jaw clenched. You did not often speak of Loki, or his dark moods since your wedding not a year past. When you did it was because he provoked you into it. "I'm only saying, you should watch yourself around him," you muttered. You dab ointment onto the deep gouge. "He's envious of your station."
"He'll get over it," Thor said bluntly. "He's still my brother, king or not. I love him no less than I did before."
Something touches your elbow and you jump. Loki is at your side now, watching you. "You should rest," he says. "I'll walk you to your chamber."
With a deep breath you school your features. I am a woman now. Long gone are the days when he had the power to leave you crying after him in a courtyard. I am a wife, a mother, and a queen. I am not afraid of him. You shook your head. "No. I'm fine." He seems taller, towering over his brother's corpse. The hand on your elbow is long-fingered and graceful, and you move out of his reach.
"I truly think-"
"I don't want you anywhere near me," you hiss. Loki stops. The fear in you is overcome by your anger. It chokes you, clouds your eyes. "How could you?" you whisper. "How could you do it?"
Loki steps back. "What are you saying?" he demands, voice low.
"You know what exactly what I'm saying."
The pair of you stand, glaring at each other. Loki gathers himself with obvious effort, clasping his hands behind his back. He speaks slowly with forced gentleness. "You've suffered a great loss... no doubt grief is clouding your judgement. So this time I will not take your words to heart. And-" his eyes narrow- "nor will anyone else. Go and rest."
You smile for the first time in days, a snarling curve of your lip. "You think I'm alone in knowing this? Your own men-" you step closer to him, eyes fixed- "believe it. And why shouldn't they? You've always been jealous of him."
"Was." His correction is cold. He turns back to Thor's body. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like a moment alone with my brother."
Hesitant to leave Thor alone with him, you linger on the spot, watching him. Loki does not look at you but snaps over his shoulder. "It's not as though anything else can hurt him now."
The truth in his words stings. With a deep breath you slowly descend the bier, crossing the hall to return to your rooms. Just before you do, Loki speaks again. "One more thing. Father wants to speak with you. He's in his study."
You go straight to the study. You are tired and your feet ache - you want nothing more than to fall into bed. Odin and Frigga are waiting, and you do not sit. "You wanted to see me?"
Odin looks up from where he sits at the circular table beside Frigga. "In a moment." He continues to write. After a long few moments, you sigh and cross to sit opposite the Allmother. She is dressed in muted black, hands folded in her lap. She does not meet your eye. Odin is still writing.
Finally he stops, setting the quill down. The clock ticks and the fire in the hearth crackles. You flex your ankles surreptitiously. Norns, you just wanted to sleep.
He sighs in irritation and you glance at him. He looks at you and frowns. "How are you? I hear you're not eating properly."
Your brows raise. "I didn't realise my well-being was of great importance right now."
"You are mother to the crown prince. It is of paramount importance," he says brusquely. You look to Frigga for a hint of what in the nine he is talking about. She continues to stare at her hands.
"Why?"
Odin glances at the door and sets his mouth. "There's no point waiting, I assume Loki has decided not to come." He looks at you. You wait. "So be it. I want you to marry Loki. Do you agree?"
Blankly, you stare at him. Then a forced laugh escapes you. Surely he must be joking? Again, you look to Frigga. Now she is looking at you, and she looks guilty. The laughter dies. "You cannot be serious," you say.
"I am utterly serious," the Allfather replies curtly. "Do you agree?"
A request from Odin is never a request. It is always a command. "Absolutely not." Frigga closes her eyes briefly. Before he can speak however, the door opens. All three of you turn to see Loki entering. His gaze crosses the scene.
"Finally," Odin's voice is disapproving. "Sit. I've already told her."
Your head turns between the two. "You knew about this?" you demand as Loki lowers himself into the seat beside you. He does not respond.
"It doesn't matter what he knows, the fact remains. You will marry Loki and continue as you were, for the safety and security of this kingdom. Do you understand?"
Odin watches you expectantly. Loki does not move. At long last, you find your tongue. "I will not."
A frown grows across the Allfather's face and he leans forward. "You must consider your position..."
"I will not," you say louder, "marry that man - the man who murdered my husband!"
Loki slams his hands on the table, "I did no such thing!"
"Liar!" You hiss back.
"Silence!" Odin barked. "Both of you."
Loki snapped his mouth shut again, his face angry. But Odin is not your father, and you are not cowed by him. "No. How dare you... Thor is not even in his grave, and you want me to marry another man? As though he never existed? What kind of father are you?"
"One who does what is necessary," he snaps. "Your son is next in line to the throne but it will be years before he is ready. Loki is a man grown and Thor's brother; he knows what needs to be done."
"I know what needs to be done," you argued.
"Foolish girl." Odin's voice holds no shame, only irritation. "This family is a dynasty that has lasted thousands of years; I will not allow its fate to fall into the hands of an outsider, nor will I endanger it when there is such an easy solution. You will marry Loki and keep your peace, and my family will remain in power. Together, you and Loki will raise the boy to know where his loyalties lie and what is expected of him. When the time comes, he will be well prepared. Do you understand?"
Shaking your head, you rise from the table. Odin watches you coldly. "And what of Thor? What of his wishes?"
"He left no will," Frigga speaks quietly. "There is no precedent for this... It is the simplest solution."
You said nothing.
Odin speaks again. "There are those among the court - and I imagine the people too - who do not have the patience to wait under a regency for a child to grow." He watched you with hard eyes. "Such people have begun to question whether it is not simpler to bypass the boy in favour of a grown man, and I cannot say I do not see their point."
Fear begins to gnaw at your lungs. "If you think for one moment," you reply shakily, "that I will allow my son to be disinherited, cast aside, you are very much mistaken."
"And then what? You'd go to war against Loki?" Odin scoffs. "We don't need a seer to know the outcome of that." The unsaid hangs in the air. You glanced at Loki, whose tense shoulders belied his concentration on the conversation. He does not say a word. Odin examines you closely before sitting back in his chair. "Perhaps you need to sleep on it. Tomorrow, I will hear your answer - and I expect it to be sensible."
That night you lie staring at the canopy of your bed. Magni sleeps tucked into your side, and the warmth of his little body scares you as much as it comforts you. Odin's words echo in your ears. Would Loki be willing to start a war to overthrow a child? Your stomach twists. If Loki decided to battle over his lineage then your son would surely lose, and then...
A chill runs over you. The thought of your own death was disturbing, but your young, sweet boy... How much innocent blood was spilled in the name of power? It didn't bear to think about.
Thor's absence is a physical pain. You need him now, need his strength.
But he is gone, and you are alone. You curl your body around your son. He is all you have now; you must protect him.