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bookishwenchTwo days later, as Loki was packing to return to Asgard, he went through all of his drawers again to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. Something was itching at the back of his brain, the feeling he had forgotten something. Irritated, he went through a careful mental checklist of everything he had brought and realized with a jolt what it was. Since he had chosen to continue wearing Sif’s necklace after the fiasco with Ragnhild, he had not opened the drawer of his bedside table again, but now he did. The dagger he had kept there, one of his favorites, had disappeared, and he had a fair idea who had taken it and when. The question was why.
Loki’s stomach lurched as he realized what Ragnhild might intend to do with it. He had made a point of not seeing her since he had broken things off, but now he realized he had no idea if anyone else had either. With a growing sense of doom, he rang for one of the servants. In less than a minute, a courtier who had been part of the group who greeted him on his first day appeared at his door.
“How may I help you, sir?”
“Lady Ragnhild, the prime minister’s daughter,” he said, trying to sound unconcerned, “has anyone seen her of late?”
“Her?” the man said, sounding surprised that someone would wonder where she might be. “I have no idea. I can ask her maid, if you wish.”
“Thank you, yes,” he said, and the man, looking confused, left at once.
The wait was interminable. Loki spent most of it staring out the window at absolutely nothing, his brain trying to arrange the wording of an official apology, but of all the scenarios he had covered in school, prompting a prime minister’s daughter to suicide via seduction and desertion hadn’t been discussed. A few minutes later there was a knock on his door again.
“Yes?” Loki said carefully, opening it.
“The maid informs me that Lady Ragnhild left Taphon a day or so ago, saying she was going to visit an aunt who lives on a farming planet not far from here,” he said.
“No one noticed she was gone until now?” Loki said, raising an eyebrow.
“They knew,” the man said with a shrug. “It just didn’t seem very important.”
“Did she arrive there safely?” he asked, thinking of the dagger again and the disaster of an interplanetary incident it would be if Ragnhild did something rash.
“Yes, sir. Her aunt spoke with Prime Minister Polettso, her brother, this morning and mentioned Lady Ragnhild was there and wanted some of her clothes and books and things sent on the next transport. She appears to be planning an extended stay. The maid was packing them up when I arrived,” the courtier replied. “Did you want to contact her?”
The courtier looked very doubtful about that.
“No,” Loki said, feeling his heartrate return to normal in relief. “I merely wished to be polite and bid her farewell before my departure as she is a member of the prime minister’s family.”
The other man nodded in understanding, any lingering curiosity quenched by the boring normalcy of diplomatic etiquette.
“Are you in need of anything else, sir?” he asked.
“No, thank you. You have been very helpful,” Loki said, closing the door.
At least Ragnhild was being sensible. Taking her broken heart to a place far from here was a surprisingly wise decision, he thought. His conscience, a frail thing to begin with, stopped needling him entirely, and he came to the conclusion that things had gone very well after all. The trade agreement was finalized. He had also victoriously dealt with his lack of experience, and no one was ultimately the worse for any of it. He did wonder why she had taken the dagger, though. It seemed an odd souvenir for a love affair, but then who could fathom the mind of a woman.
After checking his appearance in the mirror and deciding it was suitable, he left to attend his farewell feast. Immediately afterward, the Bifrost would bring him home, where he would finally see his beloved Sif again. That thought put a spring in his step and a genuine smile on his face as he walked down the corridors of Taphon’s overly modest palace for what he certainly hoped was the last time.
A few short hours late, after the usual diplomatic toasts and ceremonies that he smiled through as though he weren’t being bored to death, Loki stood at the same spot where three months ago he had been set down by the Bifrost. Hoisting his bag more firmly onto his shoulder, he looked up and called for Heimdal. At once, the welcome rush of light and motion engulfed him, and in less than a minute, he stood beneath the golden dome on Asgard.
“Welcome home, Prince Loki,” Heimdall said in his usual slightly menacing tone.
“Thank you,” he said, looking around and seeing Thor striding towards him.
“Brother!” he called out, smiling heartily.
Loki rolled his eyes, almost wishing that he were back on Taphon again. Almost, but not quite.
“Brother,” Loki said, allowing the oaf to pull him into a rib-crushing hug. Perhaps, Loki admitted only to himself, he had missed his brother a little.
“How did you fare on Taphon?” Thor asked, beaming at him. “Were you successful?”
“Indeed, I believe Father will be pleased. We have a strong trade agreement, the alliance has been strengthened, and I brought home surprisingly good jam,” he said, shoving a jar at Thor from his bag. “How are Mother and Father?”
“Also very well,” Thor said, inspecting the jar curiously as they began walking back across the rainbow bridge. “Mother in particular bid me to ask you to see her when you return.”
“Most gladly,” Loki said, smiling.
Thor squinted at him, then said, “You have not yet asked after the Lady Sif. I see you still wear the token of her affection for you, as much as it makes me doubt her sanity. Do you intend to pursue her, or have you tired of her?”
Loki looked sideways at Thor and smiled smugly, “After seeing the Queen, my goal is to find her and show her precisely how much I have missed her companionship.”
“Good,” Thor said, slapping his shoulder. “She has pined for you these months, though she would deny it.”
Loki practically shimmered with happiness. He was home, his lady awaited him, and he had fulfilled his responsibilities as an ambassador well enough that even his father would not be able to find fault with him.
“Do you know where Sif is now? I had rather hoped she would be here when I returned,” Loki asked.
“Training,” Thor said. “Her dedication to Asgard is still the foremost duty of her heart, but I believe you are a close second.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” he said with a sigh, “at least for now. Given time, I think I may even outrank the glory of battle in her esteem.”
Thor gave him a slightly lecherous smile, then said, “You will need to learn an entirely new set of skills to accomplish that feat.”
Loki considered whether or not to say anything, then decided that the pleasure of rubbing Thor’s nose in his victory was worth the gamble.
“I have already had a good deal of private tutoring in that subject since our last conversation,” Loki said, grinning. “I believe Sif will find me far more than adequate.”
“You what?” Thor said, looking more disapproving than surprised. “You took a different lover during your absence?”
“I suppose one could call it that,” Loki said, “though there was nothing of real love involved.”
“You engaged a harlot, then?” Thor asked. “I doubt Sif will be happy to hear of that.”
“I intend for her to hear nothing of it,” he snapped. “And no, I did not have to hire help in the matter. The girl was entirely willing.”
“Who?” Thor asked.
“No one of any particular importance” Loki said dismissively. “It would be hard to find anyone of consequence on Taphon.”
“Why do I think ‘consequence’ is an apt word suddenly?” Thor said, stopping a few hundred yards from the gates of the city. “Loki, who?”
“Only Polettso’s daughter, Ragnhild,” he said with a shrug.
“You deflowered the daughter of the prime minister?” Thor asked.
“Yes, I suppose it was a bit of a coup when you put it that way,” Loki said.
“Loki, you idiot!” Thor bellowed. “And how did things end with her?”
Loki paused, trying to come up with some sort of reasonable explanation. In retrospect, he was beginning to realize he had probably been too harsh with the girl.
“Never mind, your silence speaks volumes,” Thor said, glaring at him. “You were unfaithful to Sif with another lady, and if I know you, you plied her with silver words until she toppled into your bed.”
“That’s… actually fairly accurate,” Loki admitted, wrinkling his nose. “She’ll get over it. She probably already has.”
“Loki, you are more of a fool than I ever thought possible,” Thor said. “I will not tell Sif anything about this, but believe me, a scorned woman is more dangerous than the most poisonous serpent. You will not have heard the end of this.”
Thor shook his head and walked off by himself, leaving Loki standing on the bridge alone. He pursed his lips in a sour expression, feeling a tug of guilt again but deciding to ignore it and Thor’s predictions of doom. Instead, he turned his steps towards the palace, eager to see his mother again.
He found Frigga sitting in her garden, waiting for him at a small table laden with sandwiches and mulled wine. She stood as he approached, and he embraced her, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair and dress that had remained the same for him since childhood.
“I have missed you, Mother,” he said.
“And I you, my son,” Frigga said, smiling up at him, but Loki noted that her eyes seemed troubled. “Please, sit and eat. I know how exhausting travel by Bifrost can be.”
“Is there anything wrong?” Loki asked as he took his place at the table, pouring his mother and then himself a glass of wine.
The sigh Frigga gave before speaking made him feel more worried.
“I fear there is, but I do not know what it might be,” she said softly, drinking her wine absently.
She looked at him for a moment, then her gaze changed abruptly and became much sharper. He knew that expression. She was reading him like a book.
“Loki!” she said so suddenly that he jumped, her eyes going wide with shock.
“Yes?” he said in a small voice, wincing.
“What in Helheim were you thinking!” she said.
“Mother!” he said, shocked by her language.
“Don’t ‘mother’ me,” she said frowning at him. “Is there any chance at all she is with child?”
“What? No!” Loki said, embarrassment making his face red. “I would rather not discuss this. Am I not entitled to some privacy?”
“Privacy, yes,” she said. “What you do and with whom is your affair. I don’t pry into Thor’s liaisons. But everything about you is screaming at me not simply that you bedded this girl but that you deluded her and then abandoned her. I couldn’t block it out if I tried!”
“Mother, I…”
“There’s something else, too, a stain that makes no sense unless—” she blinked at him, then gritted her teeth as though preparing for the worst. “Did you make an oath to her and then break it?”
“How did you—”
“Why do my sons always forget their mother was raised by witches?” Frigga said, taking a deep breath. “I can literally smell that you broke your word in a solemn oath. It stinks to High Himmel. What did you swear by?”
Loki hung his head and flinched, “The gods?”
“Which ones?”
“All of them?”
Frigga’s glass shattered in her hand, not that she reacted to it.
“It was a mistake! I didn’t mean it!” he said desperately.
“Be that as it may, you are tempting the Norns sorely, my son,” she said, “and they do not deal sweetly with those who break oaths. A reckoning will come. I feared something like this, but could do nothing.”
She stood and gave Loki a look of pained pity.
“I still love you, Loki, but you have disgraced yourself in a way that goes beyond anything you have done before. I have no power to alter the course of your fate, but know that you steered it towards the rocks yourself,” Frigga said, then teleported away, leaving Loki standing alone in the garden, feeling an ominous heaviness in his stomach. He drained his wine in a single go and left the garden, feeling as though he wanted to sink through the paving stones and hide in a cave somewhere.
Instead, Loki went to his old rooms, unpacked, and threw himself on his bed. Things weren’t going at all how he planned for his return. He bathed, changed, and studied himself in the mirror. Was it his imagination that there seemed to be something hard around his eyes now? He shook his head and left to see his father, trying to think of anything else.
The throne room was as cold and imperious as he remembered, as was his father, who was seated with Gungnir in his hand, looking down on him with an expression that suggested he was prepared to be disappointed. Some things never changed.
“Welcome home, my son,” he said, not rising to go to him. “Are you well?”
“I am,” Loki said, “as I hope you are.”
Odin nodded then steepled his fingers, obviously waiting for Loki to make an account of himself. For a moment, he considered mentioning Ragnhild, wondering whether Thor or his mother had already told Odin everything and this was another test. But no. Thor had said he would stay silent, and whatever flaws his brother had, breaking a promise was not one of them. Granted, he could no longer say the same about himself. The queen, though, was another matter. She may consider it her duty to tell her husband what had transpired. Loki shifted uncomfortably and hoped she would choose to remain discreet about the matter.
“I have brought the trade agreement,” Loki said, climbing the steps and holding the paper forward for Odin to take. “As you will see, it is both fair and highly advantageous.”
Odin’s eyes skimmed the parchment rapidly, and he eventually grunted in approval.
“And did you find it easy to reach this conclusion?” Odin asked.
“In all honesty, no,” Loki said. “It took far longer than seemed necessary.”
“Then you have learned the meaning of diplomacy,” Odin said, smiling grimly. “It is slow, frustrating, tedious, and often involves placating fools.”
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Loki asked, hoping for a bit of pride in his accomplishments.
Odin sighed, rolling the parchment again and handing it back to his son before saying, “It will have to do.”
The king then rose and left the throne room with his younger son still standing at the base of the steps. Loki shook his head silently. What else should he have expected?
He left with a lighter step, though, turning his feet towards the training grounds. Deciding to forego formalities, he teleported himself there, popping back into existence in the spectator stands. He was just in time to see Sif conquer her opponent, and he applauded loudly. Her head whipped towards him at once, her dark hair sticking to her cheek from sweat.
“Loki!” she called, her voice filled with delight as she forgot anything but running towards him, not caring who might see, and launched herself into his arms.
Kissing her again was as sweet and fulfilling as he had hoped. At least here, with her, there was no sign of the condemnation he met with from everyone else, for she knew nothing of what had happened, and he intended to make certain she never would.
“My lady, you are a welcome sight,” he said, holding her gently.
She looked at her gift still hanging from his neck and smiled up at him, raising one hand to touch it.
“Did you think of me when you wore it?” she asked.
Loki cleared his throat, then said, “More than you will ever know. Will you consent to walk with me into town and take a late meal with me?”
“In my armor?” she said glancing down.
“It’s very becoming,” Loki said, swinging her lightly through the air, “and I would not willingly separate myself from you again even for the span of time it would take for you to change.”
She smiled at him as he set her back on her feet, then placed her hand in his as they walked out of the training grounds together. Loki looked forward to a slow, delicious courtship with her, and if the shadow of what had passed with Ragnhild ever crossed his mind, he stomped it down into a dark part of his soul that he rarely visited. After all, he reasoned, by now she must have forgotten about all that happened and moved on, and for what it was worth, he hoped she found happiness elsewhere. That chapter of his life had closed.
But for Ragnhild, the story had barely begun. Perhaps the Norns heard her cries for vengeance and were moved to pity. The consequences of Loki’s betrayal and his false oath would echo through the centuries until, finally, she received her heart’s desire and beheld him again, even though his eyes were filled with hate. If she could not have his love, she would take his fury.
Anything was better than nothing.
Loki’s stomach lurched as he realized what Ragnhild might intend to do with it. He had made a point of not seeing her since he had broken things off, but now he realized he had no idea if anyone else had either. With a growing sense of doom, he rang for one of the servants. In less than a minute, a courtier who had been part of the group who greeted him on his first day appeared at his door.
“How may I help you, sir?”
“Lady Ragnhild, the prime minister’s daughter,” he said, trying to sound unconcerned, “has anyone seen her of late?”
“Her?” the man said, sounding surprised that someone would wonder where she might be. “I have no idea. I can ask her maid, if you wish.”
“Thank you, yes,” he said, and the man, looking confused, left at once.
The wait was interminable. Loki spent most of it staring out the window at absolutely nothing, his brain trying to arrange the wording of an official apology, but of all the scenarios he had covered in school, prompting a prime minister’s daughter to suicide via seduction and desertion hadn’t been discussed. A few minutes later there was a knock on his door again.
“Yes?” Loki said carefully, opening it.
“The maid informs me that Lady Ragnhild left Taphon a day or so ago, saying she was going to visit an aunt who lives on a farming planet not far from here,” he said.
“No one noticed she was gone until now?” Loki said, raising an eyebrow.
“They knew,” the man said with a shrug. “It just didn’t seem very important.”
“Did she arrive there safely?” he asked, thinking of the dagger again and the disaster of an interplanetary incident it would be if Ragnhild did something rash.
“Yes, sir. Her aunt spoke with Prime Minister Polettso, her brother, this morning and mentioned Lady Ragnhild was there and wanted some of her clothes and books and things sent on the next transport. She appears to be planning an extended stay. The maid was packing them up when I arrived,” the courtier replied. “Did you want to contact her?”
The courtier looked very doubtful about that.
“No,” Loki said, feeling his heartrate return to normal in relief. “I merely wished to be polite and bid her farewell before my departure as she is a member of the prime minister’s family.”
The other man nodded in understanding, any lingering curiosity quenched by the boring normalcy of diplomatic etiquette.
“Are you in need of anything else, sir?” he asked.
“No, thank you. You have been very helpful,” Loki said, closing the door.
At least Ragnhild was being sensible. Taking her broken heart to a place far from here was a surprisingly wise decision, he thought. His conscience, a frail thing to begin with, stopped needling him entirely, and he came to the conclusion that things had gone very well after all. The trade agreement was finalized. He had also victoriously dealt with his lack of experience, and no one was ultimately the worse for any of it. He did wonder why she had taken the dagger, though. It seemed an odd souvenir for a love affair, but then who could fathom the mind of a woman.
After checking his appearance in the mirror and deciding it was suitable, he left to attend his farewell feast. Immediately afterward, the Bifrost would bring him home, where he would finally see his beloved Sif again. That thought put a spring in his step and a genuine smile on his face as he walked down the corridors of Taphon’s overly modest palace for what he certainly hoped was the last time.
A few short hours late, after the usual diplomatic toasts and ceremonies that he smiled through as though he weren’t being bored to death, Loki stood at the same spot where three months ago he had been set down by the Bifrost. Hoisting his bag more firmly onto his shoulder, he looked up and called for Heimdal. At once, the welcome rush of light and motion engulfed him, and in less than a minute, he stood beneath the golden dome on Asgard.
“Welcome home, Prince Loki,” Heimdall said in his usual slightly menacing tone.
“Thank you,” he said, looking around and seeing Thor striding towards him.
“Brother!” he called out, smiling heartily.
Loki rolled his eyes, almost wishing that he were back on Taphon again. Almost, but not quite.
“Brother,” Loki said, allowing the oaf to pull him into a rib-crushing hug. Perhaps, Loki admitted only to himself, he had missed his brother a little.
“How did you fare on Taphon?” Thor asked, beaming at him. “Were you successful?”
“Indeed, I believe Father will be pleased. We have a strong trade agreement, the alliance has been strengthened, and I brought home surprisingly good jam,” he said, shoving a jar at Thor from his bag. “How are Mother and Father?”
“Also very well,” Thor said, inspecting the jar curiously as they began walking back across the rainbow bridge. “Mother in particular bid me to ask you to see her when you return.”
“Most gladly,” Loki said, smiling.
Thor squinted at him, then said, “You have not yet asked after the Lady Sif. I see you still wear the token of her affection for you, as much as it makes me doubt her sanity. Do you intend to pursue her, or have you tired of her?”
Loki looked sideways at Thor and smiled smugly, “After seeing the Queen, my goal is to find her and show her precisely how much I have missed her companionship.”
“Good,” Thor said, slapping his shoulder. “She has pined for you these months, though she would deny it.”
Loki practically shimmered with happiness. He was home, his lady awaited him, and he had fulfilled his responsibilities as an ambassador well enough that even his father would not be able to find fault with him.
“Do you know where Sif is now? I had rather hoped she would be here when I returned,” Loki asked.
“Training,” Thor said. “Her dedication to Asgard is still the foremost duty of her heart, but I believe you are a close second.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” he said with a sigh, “at least for now. Given time, I think I may even outrank the glory of battle in her esteem.”
Thor gave him a slightly lecherous smile, then said, “You will need to learn an entirely new set of skills to accomplish that feat.”
Loki considered whether or not to say anything, then decided that the pleasure of rubbing Thor’s nose in his victory was worth the gamble.
“I have already had a good deal of private tutoring in that subject since our last conversation,” Loki said, grinning. “I believe Sif will find me far more than adequate.”
“You what?” Thor said, looking more disapproving than surprised. “You took a different lover during your absence?”
“I suppose one could call it that,” Loki said, “though there was nothing of real love involved.”
“You engaged a harlot, then?” Thor asked. “I doubt Sif will be happy to hear of that.”
“I intend for her to hear nothing of it,” he snapped. “And no, I did not have to hire help in the matter. The girl was entirely willing.”
“Who?” Thor asked.
“No one of any particular importance” Loki said dismissively. “It would be hard to find anyone of consequence on Taphon.”
“Why do I think ‘consequence’ is an apt word suddenly?” Thor said, stopping a few hundred yards from the gates of the city. “Loki, who?”
“Only Polettso’s daughter, Ragnhild,” he said with a shrug.
“You deflowered the daughter of the prime minister?” Thor asked.
“Yes, I suppose it was a bit of a coup when you put it that way,” Loki said.
“Loki, you idiot!” Thor bellowed. “And how did things end with her?”
Loki paused, trying to come up with some sort of reasonable explanation. In retrospect, he was beginning to realize he had probably been too harsh with the girl.
“Never mind, your silence speaks volumes,” Thor said, glaring at him. “You were unfaithful to Sif with another lady, and if I know you, you plied her with silver words until she toppled into your bed.”
“That’s… actually fairly accurate,” Loki admitted, wrinkling his nose. “She’ll get over it. She probably already has.”
“Loki, you are more of a fool than I ever thought possible,” Thor said. “I will not tell Sif anything about this, but believe me, a scorned woman is more dangerous than the most poisonous serpent. You will not have heard the end of this.”
Thor shook his head and walked off by himself, leaving Loki standing on the bridge alone. He pursed his lips in a sour expression, feeling a tug of guilt again but deciding to ignore it and Thor’s predictions of doom. Instead, he turned his steps towards the palace, eager to see his mother again.
He found Frigga sitting in her garden, waiting for him at a small table laden with sandwiches and mulled wine. She stood as he approached, and he embraced her, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair and dress that had remained the same for him since childhood.
“I have missed you, Mother,” he said.
“And I you, my son,” Frigga said, smiling up at him, but Loki noted that her eyes seemed troubled. “Please, sit and eat. I know how exhausting travel by Bifrost can be.”
“Is there anything wrong?” Loki asked as he took his place at the table, pouring his mother and then himself a glass of wine.
The sigh Frigga gave before speaking made him feel more worried.
“I fear there is, but I do not know what it might be,” she said softly, drinking her wine absently.
She looked at him for a moment, then her gaze changed abruptly and became much sharper. He knew that expression. She was reading him like a book.
“Loki!” she said so suddenly that he jumped, her eyes going wide with shock.
“Yes?” he said in a small voice, wincing.
“What in Helheim were you thinking!” she said.
“Mother!” he said, shocked by her language.
“Don’t ‘mother’ me,” she said frowning at him. “Is there any chance at all she is with child?”
“What? No!” Loki said, embarrassment making his face red. “I would rather not discuss this. Am I not entitled to some privacy?”
“Privacy, yes,” she said. “What you do and with whom is your affair. I don’t pry into Thor’s liaisons. But everything about you is screaming at me not simply that you bedded this girl but that you deluded her and then abandoned her. I couldn’t block it out if I tried!”
“Mother, I…”
“There’s something else, too, a stain that makes no sense unless—” she blinked at him, then gritted her teeth as though preparing for the worst. “Did you make an oath to her and then break it?”
“How did you—”
“Why do my sons always forget their mother was raised by witches?” Frigga said, taking a deep breath. “I can literally smell that you broke your word in a solemn oath. It stinks to High Himmel. What did you swear by?”
Loki hung his head and flinched, “The gods?”
“Which ones?”
“All of them?”
Frigga’s glass shattered in her hand, not that she reacted to it.
“It was a mistake! I didn’t mean it!” he said desperately.
“Be that as it may, you are tempting the Norns sorely, my son,” she said, “and they do not deal sweetly with those who break oaths. A reckoning will come. I feared something like this, but could do nothing.”
She stood and gave Loki a look of pained pity.
“I still love you, Loki, but you have disgraced yourself in a way that goes beyond anything you have done before. I have no power to alter the course of your fate, but know that you steered it towards the rocks yourself,” Frigga said, then teleported away, leaving Loki standing alone in the garden, feeling an ominous heaviness in his stomach. He drained his wine in a single go and left the garden, feeling as though he wanted to sink through the paving stones and hide in a cave somewhere.
Instead, Loki went to his old rooms, unpacked, and threw himself on his bed. Things weren’t going at all how he planned for his return. He bathed, changed, and studied himself in the mirror. Was it his imagination that there seemed to be something hard around his eyes now? He shook his head and left to see his father, trying to think of anything else.
The throne room was as cold and imperious as he remembered, as was his father, who was seated with Gungnir in his hand, looking down on him with an expression that suggested he was prepared to be disappointed. Some things never changed.
“Welcome home, my son,” he said, not rising to go to him. “Are you well?”
“I am,” Loki said, “as I hope you are.”
Odin nodded then steepled his fingers, obviously waiting for Loki to make an account of himself. For a moment, he considered mentioning Ragnhild, wondering whether Thor or his mother had already told Odin everything and this was another test. But no. Thor had said he would stay silent, and whatever flaws his brother had, breaking a promise was not one of them. Granted, he could no longer say the same about himself. The queen, though, was another matter. She may consider it her duty to tell her husband what had transpired. Loki shifted uncomfortably and hoped she would choose to remain discreet about the matter.
“I have brought the trade agreement,” Loki said, climbing the steps and holding the paper forward for Odin to take. “As you will see, it is both fair and highly advantageous.”
Odin’s eyes skimmed the parchment rapidly, and he eventually grunted in approval.
“And did you find it easy to reach this conclusion?” Odin asked.
“In all honesty, no,” Loki said. “It took far longer than seemed necessary.”
“Then you have learned the meaning of diplomacy,” Odin said, smiling grimly. “It is slow, frustrating, tedious, and often involves placating fools.”
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Loki asked, hoping for a bit of pride in his accomplishments.
Odin sighed, rolling the parchment again and handing it back to his son before saying, “It will have to do.”
The king then rose and left the throne room with his younger son still standing at the base of the steps. Loki shook his head silently. What else should he have expected?
He left with a lighter step, though, turning his feet towards the training grounds. Deciding to forego formalities, he teleported himself there, popping back into existence in the spectator stands. He was just in time to see Sif conquer her opponent, and he applauded loudly. Her head whipped towards him at once, her dark hair sticking to her cheek from sweat.
“Loki!” she called, her voice filled with delight as she forgot anything but running towards him, not caring who might see, and launched herself into his arms.
Kissing her again was as sweet and fulfilling as he had hoped. At least here, with her, there was no sign of the condemnation he met with from everyone else, for she knew nothing of what had happened, and he intended to make certain she never would.
“My lady, you are a welcome sight,” he said, holding her gently.
She looked at her gift still hanging from his neck and smiled up at him, raising one hand to touch it.
“Did you think of me when you wore it?” she asked.
Loki cleared his throat, then said, “More than you will ever know. Will you consent to walk with me into town and take a late meal with me?”
“In my armor?” she said glancing down.
“It’s very becoming,” Loki said, swinging her lightly through the air, “and I would not willingly separate myself from you again even for the span of time it would take for you to change.”
She smiled at him as he set her back on her feet, then placed her hand in his as they walked out of the training grounds together. Loki looked forward to a slow, delicious courtship with her, and if the shadow of what had passed with Ragnhild ever crossed his mind, he stomped it down into a dark part of his soul that he rarely visited. After all, he reasoned, by now she must have forgotten about all that happened and moved on, and for what it was worth, he hoped she found happiness elsewhere. That chapter of his life had closed.
But for Ragnhild, the story had barely begun. Perhaps the Norns heard her cries for vengeance and were moved to pity. The consequences of Loki’s betrayal and his false oath would echo through the centuries until, finally, she received her heart’s desire and beheld him again, even though his eyes were filled with hate. If she could not have his love, she would take his fury.
Anything was better than nothing.
