Hi again! So long time no update - I spilled liquid all over my keyboard and basically had to get my laptop washed out and dried, so I was unable to do anything with it for quite a while, then I was out all bank holiday weekend! But thank you all for your marvellous patience, and I hope that this LONG (7.5k words!) chapter will make up for it! Once again, I am ever grateful to those of you who read this and review :)

There ARE warnings for this chapter: please see end notes if you want some forewarning!

Soft morning light filters through the green curtains, gently waking you. Confused and sleepy, you roll onto your back, blinking in your surroundings. Then you remember where you are and shoot upright. If Loki had come to bed last night he hadn't woken you, and the bed is empty now too. You're glad of it, although it chills you to have been so close to him while in a most vulnerable state.

Your nightdress has rucked up around your thighs as usual, and you adjust yourself before hurrying from the room. You've risen much later than you meant to. Walking towards your own quarters gives you a strange sense of deja vu; the last time you'd made this walk in the morning was months ago, with a different husband and a different life.

When you enter, Magni's nursemaids are feeding him. They look at you with wide eyes and take in your appearance. "Good morning, your Grace," says one, glancing at her counterpart. Their curiosity makes you uncomfortable, and you duck into your own bedroom to dress for the day.

"Stay with him a while," you tell them upon returning. "I'll be back soon." You're out the door before they can reply. Rushing through halls, you reach the guest chambers far faster than is normal. Without stopping, you crash into Lorelai's room. "Lorel-"

Her chambers are completely bare. Save for Loki, standing in the middle. You stare at him, heart dropping. "Where's Lorelai?"

His voice is calm. "I had her sent home at dawn. She's not to return until she learns the meaning of the word confidential."

"What... I told you it was Haldier!"

"Do you think I'm dense?" Loki's tone grows cutting. He raises a hand, "There are only a handful of people you care about enough to lie for; your mother, my mother, your son, and the Lady Lorelai."

"I'm telling you, it was-"

"Please." He sounds unimpressed. "She admitted to everything. The poison; her idea, was it not?"

Your breath catches. "No," you lie.

Loki rolls his eyes. "You're a terrible liar, my dear." You wrinkle your nose at the wry pet name. Turning around, you move to leave when he asks you sharply, "Where are you going?"

You retort over your shoulder. "To see her."

"Absolutely not."

"Excuse me?" Your voice rises furiously. "You can't-"

"I can," he snaps. "Your friend plotted treason and slandered the crown; she's lucky not to be in a cell." You scoff. The idea of Lorelai in a cell is absurd. Loki's voice rises. "Is something funny?"

You glare at him. "Only ridiculous. If Lorelai can be accused of plotting treason for giving me poison, surely that makes me an even greater traitor? After all, I'm the one who almost carried it out. Why am I not in a cell?" He ignores your scathing question and once again you move towards the corridor.

"I mean it," Loki says harshly. "If I find you visiting her, it'll go far worse for your friend." Your shoulders tense. He continues, "And don't forget, tomorrow evening I expect you to dine with me."

The door slams in his face.

"Why did you tell him?" you demand.

Lorelai shuts the front door with a sigh. "What was I supposed to do, let an innocent man be whipped for my foolish mistakes?"

"You told him about the poison!"

"I may as well! Better than Loki blaming you or Haldier for it."

You tap your foot in irritation, "I don't think he even cares Lorelai. You've only made things worse for yourself."

She just shrugs, wandering into the lounge. The afternoon sun streams through the windows. "I'm under house arrest, not the axe. Besides," she throws you a furtive look, "it was the least I could do; I should never have mentioned anything to Haldier. That song... "

Her words only annoy you further. "Forget the song." It's the last thing you want to be reminded of. "My point is that we've been forbidden from communicating; I'm not even supposed to be here now."

For once she looks shocked. "Are you trying to provoke him? He's a dangerous man!"

"I don't care!" Rebellion roars in your ears. "You're the only friend I have in the world - I don't know what I'll do without you."

Lorelai sighs, "Yes, what a friend I've been, causing rumours and gossip. For fuck's sake I tried to get you to commit treason-" she moans, burying her face in her hands.

"Do you want to make things worse?" You shush her furiously.

"What I want is to make amends! I was worrying so much about the things Loki might say or do, I never even thought of my own stupid mouth. And now I've made everything worse for you when all I wanted to do was help."

She sounds distressed, and despite the ire that lingers in the back of your mind you can't help but want to comfort her. You sink into the sofa beside her with an exhale. "It's alright." Lorelai sends you a look. "No it is," you insist. "Yes, you were stupid and yes, if I'm honest then I'm annoyed. But Lorelai... who's going to make me laugh, or drink wine with me until midnight if not you?"

"I think Loki would if you gave him the chance," she mutters.

"Don't be absurd Lorelai," your voice is flat. "The only thing he wants from me is obedience or humiliation."

The redhead narrows her eyes. "Or something else." You ignore her; she's blatantly wrong.

"I mean it though." You fold your hands together and quietness descends as you sit side-by-side. "Do you remember when I first came to the palace?"

She snorts. "Yes; clumsy little thing." You elbow her and she laughs.

"I was so nervous," you reminisce. "Excited, but nervous too." You had just become a woman and only been to the city twice when Frigga had accepted you into her service - everything had been so new and overwhelming. Mother had taken you to the palace and presented you to the queen and then promptly left. "The palace was so large, I used to get lost in it all the time! I was always late to Frigga's gatherings. And everyone else already knew each other or was painfully quiet..."

"Oh I know, getting those scared little girls to talk was as difficult making Odin laugh."

You snicker, "More difficult I'd say. And they had the finest gowns and jewellery and they'd all grown up here, I felt so out of place. And then one day Fulla decided that it would be funny to-"

"To accidentally pour wine all over you at dinner," Lorelai chimes in, disgruntled. "And you threw an entire plate of roast boar at her in front of everyone and she cried and Frigga was furious with both of you."

"She was. The memory causes you to wince. "But afterwards you came up to me and congratulated me on a job well done and sat by me every meal time since."

Your friend shrugs. "You were brave," she says simply. "And Fulla was a bitch."

"She was terrified of you - I'm surprised she never got her parents to have you removed."

Lorelai snorts again. "She wouldn't have dared." You both chuckle.

Then you sigh again, "I cannot believe you told him... I had everything sorted for you."

Her eyes soften and she throws her arms around your shoulders. Begrudingly, you return the gesture. "Now look at you," she says, determinedly upbeat, "brave enough to risk Loki's wrath for me!"

"Yes but it doesn't matter if I can never see you," you moan. "It'll be an age before I can convince Loki to let you back to court; you embarrassed him."

"Him and you. It's my own fault."

You shake your head. There's no dissuading her. "I'll be so damnably bored," you mutter.

Lorelai squeezes your hand. "You'll survive a few weeks without me... It just means we'll have more to talk about next time! Besides," her eyes glitter mischieviously, "the palace is enormous - maybe I can sneak my way into a corner here and there for five minutes." Her optimism make you smile at last even if such a thing is impossible, and your conversation moves on to lighter topics.

You only dare to visit Lorelai's house briefly - when you return to the palace a mere hour has passed. You're relieved; thankful that your friend is well enough (even if she is separated from you), and reconciled to the foreseeable future without real company. The following night, after a quiet meal in Loki's quarters you take yourself immediately to bed.

Lying under the sheets which are slowly becoming familiar against your skin, you freeze as - for the first time - Loki's footsteps pad over to the bed. Your eyes, which had been gazing at the opposite wall as you lost yourself in thought, fly wide open. During the past weeks that you been forced to share his bed, you had never fallen asleep with him beside you, nor awoken with him next to you. In fact, you'd begun to wonder if he slept at all.

But now that routine was upended.

There are soft sounds as Loki sheds his clothes. Swallowing, you clench the thick blanket between your fingers. The mattress dips as he slides in next to you; although he remains far enough that you cannot feel the heat from his body. He shifts a few times, getting comfortable, and you close your eyes and pretend to be fast asleep. Silence falls once again.

"Are you awake?" His voice is much closer than you had expected, and your muscles instinctively tense. Loki sighs.

When he speaks again, his voice is quiet. "I'm not trying to make you unhappy. I know you understand why she can't be allowed to stay."

The truth stings far more than his taunts - because you do understand, even if you do not want to admit it. In your core, you are beginning to acknowledge that it was merciful even. Still, you would rather bite your tongue off than admit that to the man who had spent the last years doing nothing but jeering and insulting you. Instead, you ask him quietly, "Will you let her come back one day?"

Loki does not reply. No more is said.

It's not that you're entirely miserable without Lorelai, you're just... bored. She's been such a constant fixture in your daily life over the last months that you hadn't even noticed how much time you spent with her. Now you take Magni to the gardens alone, wander to the library alone, have your gowns fitted alone, and eat meals alone. But Loki has forbidden you to see her for now and you still fear his wrath, so after your one covert trip to make sure she's well, you do not visit her again.

You've never been unsociable - in fact you know many people well enough to stop and smile and talk with, but you simply don't have many close friends. You've never needed an abundance of company, just a special few - Lorelai had been one of those few since your youth, and Thor had soon become another.

Loki had been too, once. But that was long ago.

Nevertheless, you grow so completely bored of solitude that after some weeks without any meaningful conversation, whenever Loki asks - as he does every night you're forced to spend in his presence - if you'd like some wine, you accept.

He pours you a glass without hesitation, as though he expected no other answer.

You perch on the edge of his couch, staring into the flames that leap and flicker in the hearth. Loki sits in his usual armchair, reading as is his habit at the end of the day. You sip the dark liquid. There's something serene about his chambers, you've come to notice; perhaps it's the stillness. It's easy to just sit and stare and let your mind go blank here.

Loki says nothing, though you can tell he's barely biting back questions. Or maybe jests - it would hardly be the first time he'd made a pointed comment to you about the correlation between alcohol and weight gain. The last time he had, even Thor had told him to shut up.

You wonder idly what Thor would think about this - the whole situation you've found yourself in. There's no point, you conclude. If he was here then it would never have come to pass.

There's a rustle as Loki turns a page. Your eyes slide over to the source of the noise instinctively. Under his brows, his eyes flick up to meet yours. You look away.

"Is it hard for you?" The words burst from his lips at last, both curious and suspicious. "Being in this room when it's so different now?" You know what he really means: do you think of Thor here?

"No," you say at last. "I prefer it." Surprisingly, the sentiment is true. Sleeping beside your husband's brother in the exact same chamber would feel an even deeper betrayal than it already did.

Of course Loki interprets your words differently. He shifts. "You prefer it like this?"

"No," you retort irascibly. The bluntness of your reply makes him recoil again and he returns to his book. You sigh - more frustrated with yourself than him. You never used to be so easily ruffled, nor so impolite. Tentatively, you speak again. "Can I ask you something?"

Loki barely acknowledges you. "You just did."

You sigh again. "Can I ask you something else?"

"If you must."

The question comes out in a rush. "Why didn't you put Lorelai in a cell?"

Loki pauses. "I beg your pardon?"

"It doesn't make any sense," you say. "You were livid, you said you'd punish the person who-"

"I did punish her."

"But she also plotted treason according to yourself, so why didn't you arrest her? You had a man flogged for sleeping through guard duty once - it doesn't make any sense."

Loki slams his book shut. "Do you want me to arrest her?" he asks you furiously.

Your eyes widen. "No! I was just wondering why you didn't - in fact I think it was ki-"

"Let it go," he snaps. You shut your mouth, nostrils flaring. To think, you'd been about to tell him you'd thought it was decent of him - to thank him even! Forget it, you think angrily. Loki always had his reasons for things, and if he didn't want to share them with you then you had no reason to share your gratitude with him.

Only a few days later you are in the gardens on the rose path, where the leaves are starting to turn orange and brown. Magni is crawling quickly through the grass, stopping every so often to tear chunks out of the ground with delighted squeaks and you watch him closely when a soldier rounds the corner, walking briskly. You nod at him politely, distracted by your son, when he rather abruptly knocks into you as he brushes past.

You jolt with the force of his clumsy shove, and turn in indignation. "Excuse me!"

The soldier says nothing, only glances back at you quickly. Too quickly; your eyes follow the line of his gaze and you realise he's dropped a small square of paper close to your feet. By the time you look back up he's far down the path - you grab the note and unfold it with quick breaths.

My dearest friend, did I not tell you I'd find a way in?

Your heart soars at the familiar handwriting and a smile blooms on your face. Dear Lorelai - always resourceful. You shove the note into the folds of your gown and turn back to Magni. He's moved just out of reach and you dart after him, laughing.

It's not the same as having company, but the letters passed between yourself and Lorelai - quickly and quietly transported by Haldier, who you meet thrice a week on the rose path - lift your spirits remarkably. You've even begun talking to Loki; but only brief and polite exchanges over your evening meals on those designated nights. If he notices a change in your demeanour he does not remark upon it.

Still, although you know that technically you're not disobeying him, you are discrete about writing your letters. In the evenings you wear your hooded cloak down to the rose path when Haldier cannot be there in the mornings, as you have no ready excuse for being there without your son, and you worry that someone will notice your routine if they saw your face so regularly.

It is one such evening when you are scurrying back through the palace. You quicken your pace as you near your door, hearing your sons unceasing wails. Finally reaching it and slipping inside, you let out a quiet sigh and slip your hood off.

"Where have you been?"

You gasp and spin around. In the early evening dimness of your chambers Loki is stood at the table. The only light comes from the large windows throughout your quarters of the fire, and it illuminates his movements. Inside, your blood turns to ice as you see Magni held stiffly in his hands.

"What are you doing?" Your voice cracks.

"I've been waiting here," he continues in the same miffed tone, "for some time now. I thought we could dine together." Your eyes move to the table, taking in the plate of rich food that sits untouched opposite him. "It seems I was mistaken."

Your heart pounds against your ribs as he glares at you. "I... I was praying." He says nothing, and you can feel his obvious doubt from across the room, but he doesn't grill you further. Then Magni screams again and Loki winces, holding him at an awkward angle both close to and away from his body. Momentarily, your paranoia subsides. "Give him here," you mutter, crossing the floor.

Gently, you lift the child from his arms and begin to bounce him against your shoulder. "Why do you have him?"

"He wouldn't cease his screeching," Loki replies. He sounds stressed.

As Magni screams in your ear, you can't blame him. Sighing, you pace the room, both rocking and coddling the child. "I know my darling, I know," you say as softly as you can manage. Sometimes the sound of your voice is enough to calm the boy but not today. "Are you tired? Hungry?"

"He's been fed," Loki's voice speaks.

"Tired then," you say wearily. It surprises you rather unpleasantly when you realise that you find the prospect of a long and restful night in Loki's chambers more appealing than a night spent trying to convince your stubborn son to sleep. You sigh again and bury your face in Magni's golden hair. He curls his tiny fists in the fabric of your dress and cries under your chin. Without looking up, you tell Loki, "I think I'd best stay here tonight - he can be difficult when he's like this."

Loki hovers in the corner of the room, eyes lingering. Stiffly, he suggests, "Or you could bring him with you."

You pause. "Bring Magni?" To Loki's room? "Where will he sleep?"

"In the bed."

"With us?"

"With his mother," Loki says impatiently. "Mother always said Thor and I were a terror at this age; if he's anything like us then he'll not want to be apart from you. I daresay we'll all sleep better for it."

Swallowing, you glance down at your sniffling babe, then back to your husband, who looks highly uncomfortable. Can you trust him enough to bring Magni in with you? You cannot deny the idea is a good one - besides, surely even Loki wouldn't harm a child in it's mother's arms? With a deep breath you acquiesce.

"Excellent," Loki says brusquely. "You go and I'll have more food sent up." There's a sort of awkwardness in the air and he wastes no time in leaving. Hesitantly, you look at Magni, who remains crying, before taking him with you.

That same awkwardness lasts all through dinner. You suppose it's because you and Loki have to wait together; usually you both arrive within minutes of the other, food already set out on the table, the perfect excuse to avoid talking. But not today however. You sit opposite one another with nothing to say. At least Magni quietens - being in a new environment evidently excites him as he stares around and squirms in your arms, sucking a thumb with vigour.

You bounce him on your knee as you wait, thankful for the small pause. Loki is observing the small boy, and you're just beginning to second-guess your decision to bring him when the servants arrive with your dinner. They set it down and fill your glasses with water and wine before leaving. Even as teenagers, Loki had always preferred to serve his own food. You wonder if he's paranoid.

But the meat sizzles against your plate and the herby smell from the potatoes wafts up towards you, demanding attention. You eat in silence; only broken by the tinkle of cutlery and Magni's exclamations. When you're done, the only thing left on your plate is rich gravy and Magni is growing restless again. You dip a fingertip into the warm sauce and offer it to your son's lips. When his mouth closes around it however, you yelp in surprise to feel small sharp little prick into your flesh.

The abruptness of you pulling away from him sends Magni into shrieking tears once again and you groan, lifting him onto your shoulders. Across the table, Loki mutters, "Definitely Thor's child."

You send him a look as you shush the baby, hurriedly offering him more gravy. He calms again, distracted by the new taste, and when he's done you peer at his gums. They're red and you can see little white points under the skin. "Oh, he's teething," you say aloud, more to yourself than Loki.

"Are you sure he's not just an enthusiastic singer?" Loki asks dryly. You roll your eyes.

It is odd, you're aware, as the evening goes on. Loki sits in his armchair, with a new book open on his lap and a glass of wine in his hand. You sit on the floor not far from him while Magni crawls around on the rug in front of the fire. He's fascinated by the leaping flames, and more than once you have to reach forward and pulls him back by his little legs before he gets too close.

It turns into a game between you - Magni will crawl away as fast as he can and you'll reach forward and pull him back across the soft floor on his tummy. It amuses him to no end and he giggles constantly, which in turns makes you giggle. More than once, in the corner of your eye, you can see Loki observing with evident curiosity. Idly, you wonder if he wants children of his own. For the first time in your marriage, you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You'll never give him children, so he won't find out.

You sigh. It truly would have been kinder to marry him to a woman who could at least like him and wanted those things too.

A sudden whoosh and flare of light breaks your thoughts - the fire has suddenly leapt in the hearth, the flames now multicoloured. Magni is entranced, and you glance at Loki to see his hand now free of the book and making smooth motions. As he does the flames dance and change colours, reflecting in your son's wide eyes and golden curls. You pull Magni onto your lap and kiss his head as he sits and watches.

He's very still and quiet, and it's dark outside. Soon he'll be asleep and you want to be too. But you can't hold a baby in one hand and get dressed with the other; and you're certainly not getting undressed in front of Loki.

You agonize over the decision for a few long moments, before asking Loki quietly, "Can you hold him for a little while? Just while I get changed."

He looks taken aback. "Ah... I... suppose."

Slowly, you get to your feet, the fire still entertaining your son. Loki quickly closes his book and sets it on the table. Leaning over him, you slowly place Magni on his knees. "Hold him like this, just keep a grasp on him," you tell your husband. "He can sit up fine, but he will try and crawl down your legs in you give him a chance." Loki's hands tighten more securely around the small boys midriff.

Once you're sure that all is secure, you straighten, hovering uncertainly. "Are you sure," you begin, but Loki cuts you off.

"Fairly sure," he says calmly, clicking his fingers and making a lion made of smoke leap through the flames. Magni audibly gasps, leaning forward. Keeping your eyes on them both, you cross the room and duck into Loki's bathroom - close to the bed - and change as fast as you're able. You haven't even finished plaiting your hair, fingers still working on the braid, when you return to the room.

"I'll take him, thank you," you say, eagerly lifting Magni back into your arms again. He begins to squirm and make distressed noises as you settle on the sofa with him beside you. Dessert had come with a silver bowl of cream, which you had swiped, and you lift a small spoonful and let him taste it before he can begin to cry again. "Only a little bit," you tell him as he grabs the spoon with greedy hands. You figured that if there was pain in his mouth making him cry, then the best thing to do was to replace the pain with pleasantness - in this case, cream.

The fire crackles and every now and then you let Magni have a tiny sip of cream, until his thumb goes to his mouth and he sucks comfortably. You stroke his silky hair, lulling him to sleep, when Loki speaks quietly.

"You're a good mother," he says. "Very devoted."

It is quite possibly the first genuine compliment he's paid you in years, and you wait for a barb that doesn't come. Somewhat uncertain, you respond politely. "Thank you."

You both sit in silence, waiting for him to drop off. It doesn't take long, and once he does you gently lift him and press a finger to your lips. Loki nods and you slowly move over to the bed.

You can't put Magni on your side, he'd roll off the bed. Yet you're not sure about having him next to Loki... just in case. So you set him in the middle and quickly slip under the covers and wrap him in your arms, so he's safely ensconced in the middle of the bed next to you. Distantly you can hear Loki padding around, getting ready, and the chambers darken as the fire goes out. You're very tired however, and nestled in the large plush bed with Magni in your arms you fall into the best sleep you've had in weeks.

It is only once autumn is truly beginning; when the leaves begin to fall from the trees and you start wrapping Magni in fur-lined blankets, that Odin calls for a family meeting. You haven't seen Lorelai in almost six long weeks now, and she tells you how restless she grows. She's begun to make jokes in her letters about sneaking into the palace for company and conversation but you always warn her not to.

"This shan't take long," the Allfather announces once you've all assembled in the solar. "But you all ought to know that since the bifrost will be staying closed, winter trade will have to be conducted through the old ways."

The old ways; the secret, narrow pathways between worlds. It sounds like a terrible idea and you frown. "Has nobody seen Heimdall?"

"None," Odin says flatly. "And by now, I believe it's likely he's dead. So-"

"So why don't we just appoint a new gatekeeper?" Loki says, sounding exasperated. "If Heimdall is dead then the Sight can be passed on to another."

"We don't know if he is dead," you note. "What if he's not? In fact, wouldn't testing if we can use the Sight on someone else either prove or disprove his death?"

"Don't be foolish," Odin snaps. "Our priority right now is to re-establish regular trading before the farms start to freeze, and the most immediate way of doing that is using the pathways."

Loki frowns. "But we could take in more resources using the Bifrost again." You nod in agreement.

"Loki..."

"I truly believe it's best, Father."

"Nobody asked for what you believe, Loki," Odin thunders. Frigga winces.

Loki's face whitens and he opens his mouth furiously, "I'm just saying-"

"Enough of your saying! We will use these pathways until all is stable and that is final!"

You can hardly believe what's happening in front of you. Evidently your dislike of your father-in-law outweighs that of your husband, because you're unable to help yourself and add indignantly. "Don't you think the King himself should have some say in trade between his kingdoms?" Especially when he's making more sense, you add silently.

Loki looks at you sharply, and Odin turns on you. "Not when he doesn't know what he's talking about! Now I didn't call either of you here to discuss this or hear your thoughts on my actions; go!"

Your jaw drops and you look at Loki - who is already rising and storming out of the room. "He's not a child you know," you hiss at Odin before going after him.

You wouldn't say either of you are friendly - but civility exists between you now. You cannot deny that you are grateful both for his mercy towards Lorelai and his acceptance of Magni; still, you are ever-aware that it is wholly likely that he's a murderer, and you do your best to stay out of his way. But today you hurry after him. "Loki."

He's slowed down, and turns at the sound of your voice. You come to a gradual stop several meters away from him. "You're right; the bifrost should be reopened." The tall man doesn't respond, and you frown. "What?"

"Your defense of me," Loki begins, seemingly hesitant, "was... noble." You shift uncomfortably, unsure whether to accept his acknowledgement or to brush it off. "But unnecessary." He looks tense, as though thousands of people are watching him and not just yourself. You frown again.

"Then why don't you stand up to him?" you ask. "He's your father, not your keeper. You don't have to put up with his criticism."The conversation has begun to take on an odd feeling - many years ago, you and Loki had this same argument time and time again.

"I don't," Loki retorts defensively. You cannot mask your skepticism. "Odin is the Allfather; as tiring as his lectures can be he is wise."

You scoff. "Wise? Where is the wisdom in keeping the bifrost closed and not appointing another gatekeeper?"

Loki glares. "I can hardly afford to make mistakes now."

He doesn't need to extrapolate - one mistake would give Asgard the excuse they wanted to revolt against him, given their suspicions and ill feelings. Still, you say wearily, "That's true, but you're a grown man Loki. You don't need his approval - especially not when you're the one who's right!" Why in the nine you're even advocating for Loki's own independence you do not know - habit, you suppose.

"I know that," he snaps. "Nor do I need you to defend me, it's unwelcome."

His words sting and you open your mouth to reply sharply, "That's-"

The door closed behind Frigga and Odin as they depart. You turned to Thor but he's already speaking. "Must you always argue with Father?"

You're shocked. "Me? He's overstepping his place Thor - you're the King, he can't keep telling you what to do-"

"He's the Allfather! He knows more, better than anyone, what it is to rule." Your husband looked stressed, his usually happy face lined with worry. You sighed in frustration. Thor's worship of his father was immensely trying.

"That may be true, but still! He's supposed to have

He frowned at you. It's an odd expression, one you're unfamiliar with seeing on his face. "He's the Allfather," he repeated, as though it explained everything. "He's fought countess battles, he led Asgard into a golden age, everything we are, everything we have, we have due to him-"

You spread your hands in exasperation. You've heard this a hundred times from a hundred different mouths, in a hundred different variations. "Yes and that's all very good of him, but it's done! It's your turn now! How will you ever learn how to rule well if he keeps making decisions for you? You're not a child!"

Thor dropped into the chair to the right of the head of the council table - where Odin still sits, though his son holds the throne. "I'm not wise," he says tiredly, "or knowledgeable, or prudent like my father. I want to be, I want to be a good king for Asgard, but I don't know how. Not yet."

"Then perhaps Odin should have taught you before now. He's had a thousand years to teach you how to be a good king; why didn't he prepare you?"

"It's not his fault," Thor said angrily. "I was headstrong and rebellious-"

"As all children are!"

"-he always said I was difficult to manage. And he was busy, a king has many demands on his time..."

"You have many demands on your time," you replied sharply. "You've still made time for the people you love; you've made time to teach me the things I'll need to know to be queen."

Thor rubbed his face. How odd, that the burden of the throne could become so heavy so quickly. "I don't want to hear it. Father knows best; there's much we could both learn from him."

Fighting with Thor about Odin's control had not done either of you good - you'd got frustrated and he'd been stressed, and nothing had changed until finally he'd gained confidence and maturity in himself. Loki is far more argumentative than his brother had been - and you have neither the inclination nor stupidity to start warring with him over Odin. So you swallow your retort and speak softly.

"I'm sorry," you say instead. "I didn't mean to offend you; I only thought to point out to your father that he's speaking to adults and not wayward children."

Clearly Loki had been expecting some sort of retaliation - it takes him a moment to find his tongue. When he does speak he's less defensive than he had been. "It's fine, you meant well. It's just... unnecessary." You incline your head. What is it about the Odinsons, you wonder, that makes them so anxious to please a man who was only ever cold or hard or demanding?

There's an awkward silence in the absence of arguing. Not wanting to elongate the discomfort further, you turn away to wander back to your rooms; maybe you'd practice some more on the harp before Magni awoke, when Loki speaks again. "Tonight-"

You glance back at him, "Dinner, I know. I'll be there."

"Actually no." Loki looks disgruntled. "There's a feast - a little last minute I know. But we're expected to be there."

"That's fine."

"But afterwards..."

"I know, your chambers as usual. It's fine."

He looks at you strangely - again, as thought he'd expected some argument. After a beat he nods and you go your separate ways. You rush down to the gardens; hopefully you haven't missed Haldir and he has a new letter.

You haven't and he does, and you grin as you unfold it. You'd and Lorelai had been engaged in frivolous debates, which meant long letters and deep thought. Yet the scrip that reveals itself to you is short.

Meet me in the stables tonight after the feast. I've something urgent to tell you.

The words make your stomach drop - surely she doesn't seriously mean to come here? Striding quickly, you manage to catch up with Haldir, and mutter, "She's coming here? Why?"

He nods curtly, professionally, as though you're discussing the changing of the guard. "She's very upset, I don't know why. She was fine this morning but when I went to see her before now she was odd. Not herself."

"Has something happened to her?"

"She wouldn't say," he mutters back, looking about.

Confused and growing worried, you make a rapid decision. "Fine. But tell her to come towards the end, near midnight when everyone's drunk. There'll be less chance of her being seen then. And it can't be for long."

That evening your stomach is delicate all through the feast, though you manage to mask it with excuses of having eaten too much at lunch. Magni has been brought out too, and you focus on entertaining him to keep your mind off the fact that at any moment your friend could be stealing into the palace. Whatever she has to tell you must be important for her to make such a risk.

The feast is in honour of General Tyr's birthday - one of Odin's favourites, he gives long and increasingly ineligible speeches. You're not altogether fond of the man and nor is Loki, and you both sit in polite boredom as he speaks. Once, in the corner of your eye you see Loki flick a finger, and you're sure its the cause of the servant's sudden loose grasp on the jar of mead which falls and smashes over the man's head.

Luckily the general is too inebriated to care and only laughs, but Odin is furious and sends the poor boy fleeing from the hall. You look at Loki with raised brows and he shrugs, as if to excuse himself. "Don't deny that you enjoyed it," he murmured.

You shake your head to clear the amusement from your face. "Loki."

His eyes drift to the child in your arms. "He looks tired," he notes. You study your son's face - sure enough his eyes are heavy and he's sucking a thumb.

"I'd best put him to bed," you say, rising from your seat carefully, trying not to jostle Magni too much.

Loki's gaze follows you. "Do you want me to come too?"

"No thank you," you say as casually as possible. If Loki came with, then all hopes of seeing Lorelai would be gone in an instant. "I'll stay with him for a bit and then come back."

He nods, already looking bored again, and you slip away.

Magni falls asleep as you hurry to your chambers; you do hover for a minute to make sure he's truly resting and comfortable before swiping up a dark cloak and glancing at your window. The moon is high in the sky, partially covered by grey cloud. You hope Lorelai hasn't left already.

Closing the door quietly, you throw your hood up and begin the fast walk to the stables. The halls are dim and flickering with torchlight, and you weave your way between the shadows quickly and quietly. Stroll down the stairs, slip through the doors, dart across the courtyard - and finally you've reached the stables.

In the light of the window, you can see Lorelai's face peeking through. She looks uncharacteristically worried - she's tense with wide eyes and pale cheeks, and a line creases your brow. Whatever she has to tell you must be important, if she's doing something she's so evidently uncomfortable with.

Pausing, you look about. The palace is never silent, but the noise from the feasting hall is muted, and in the windows hundreds of lights flicker. There are too many to count and even if anyone does see you, you'd look the size of an ant. So you hurry over to the window and tuck into the safety of the shadow of the wall. "Lorelai! What is it, why are you here?"

She grips the edge of the window with clenched fingers. Up close you can see there's a tiny tremble in the set of her mouth. Trepidation grows in your bones. "I had to tell you - you have to know," she says, so quickly that you struggle to catch her words.

"Lorelai please," you cover her hands with yours. "Nobody knows I'm here, nobody knows you're here; it's fine. Take a breath, and then say what you must."

Shakily, your friend does as you bid. When she speaks again, her voice is level. "You know," she begins, half-whispering, "how I was joking about sneaking in to see you, because I was so damn bored?" You nod and she continues, words quickening again."Well... I did, this morning; I had nothing to do and I have been so unbelievably bored, and I thought a quick few minutes wouldn't hurt... and I- I was wandering past and... I saw..."

Under your fingers her hands are shaking and you squeeze them in comfort. "Go o-"

Your urging is cut off by the sudden noise of a gang of soldiers rounding the far end of the stables, chattering loudly. You both jump. "Wait a minute," you hiss to Lorelai, quickly turning and walking as casually as you can towards the opposite end of the stables. You slink further into the shadows and adjust your hood closer to your face as the group wanders past in the direction of the feasting hall.

With a sigh of relief, you push the stable doors open. The lanterns on the wall are lit and a few windows open, giving the large stables some light and warmth. But you can't see Lorelai. Bewildered, you look around and move forward, when you catch your foot on something and stumble. You glance down briefly; and then your eyes grow wide in horror.

Lorelai lies sprawled on the floor. From her chest, blood leaks from a vicious gaping wound. It crawls across the floor in a sickly puddle, staining the tips of your shoes. You stare and stare until you realise her fingers are twitching, reaching for you. Instantly you fall to your knees, pressing a hand against her wound. "Guards!" you scream, all thoughts of secrecy and carefulness gone. All you care about is the blood that seeps through your fingers.

She gasps, the sound distorted by the rip in her flesh, the piercing of her lungs. You gather her in your arms immediately.

Scrabbling with shaking hands, you rip your cloak from your shoulders and ball it up - you press it to the wound desperately, and scream again, "Guards! Help! Guards!" There are tears leaking down Lorelai's cheeks and you curl over her, kissing her head, holding her hand. "I'm right here," you tell her as she gurgles. Ruby blood and frothy saliva spill from her lips and you call again, voice breaking. "I'm here, I'm here..."

She squeezes your hand and gurgles again, gasping, trying to rasp a sentence. You lean down to try and understand her and she shoves a bloody palm at you insistently. You glance down - and see she's clutching several long pale hairs. Confused and distracted, you pluck them from her fingers, and she lets her hand drop, still gasping. Distantly, you hear the rush of footsteps and you tell her, hopefully, "It's alright, help is coming, I promise..."

But her hand is loosening in yours; the rings on her fingers slip away as she stares up at you. In seconds, Lorelai's eyes film over and look past you, and she is gone. Your eyes are fixed on her face, unable to comprehend the gash that rips her apart. Your knees grow damp with the warmth of her blood soaking through your skirts as she lies in your arms.

When the guards arrive, it takes several of them to pull you away.

CHAPTER WARNINGS: character death, gore.

So, there we go; for those of you who wondered, nope Lorelai's not sketchy, just a very loyal (somewhat misguided) friend. I hope that at the end at least she was sympathetic - what a terrible way to go. But! Now shit can really kick off! Yay!