Fic: Hearts and Lies (Frostiron) 12/13

[bookishwench]

Later that morning, Loki sent a brief message to Peter and Anthony regarding Thor’s discovery. He left out specifics, saying only that what Thor had found looked promising, but no more. That was the last anyone heard of the second prince for days. He remained locked in his chambers, stopping only to receive word from the healers that they were certain Thor was healing properly. Aside from that, he neither ate not slept. Frigga was the only one he permitted to enter, allowing her to look over the instructions he had been given.

“This may be possible,” she said seriously, then, putting out her hand to brush his hair from his forehead, “or it may not. Can you accept that second possibility if it happens?”

“I will not allow it to happen,” he said, adding yet another volume of research to the growing piles on the floor.

“I believe that if it can be, you will make it so,” Frigga said.

“A Jotun heart can love,” Loki said. “It is its natural state as much as for an Aesir heart, though I would never have believed it before all of this happened.”

“I knew that long ago,” Frigga said, smiling at him.

“Have you any other suggestions to make?” Loki said a shade too abruptly.

“That you should sleep and eat,” she said ruefully, “not that you will listen to your mother.”

“I must finish this now,” he said. “I will not allow myself those luxuries until I have completed my goal.”

In spite of this, after Frigga left, not two hours passed before someone was pounding on his door so forcefully that he was forced to stop and open it. To his surprise, Pepper was standing on the other side, holding an enormous tray. She must have been kicking the door with her foot.

“Your mother stopped by,” she said, pushing her way past him and into the room. “You will eat.”

“I have no time for—”

“It was not a suggestion. Sit down and finish this,” she ordered, putting a bowl of the familiar stew and a loaf of bread on the only clear spot on his desk. “I am not leaving until it is gone.”

Whether it was the stern look in Pepper’s eyes or the familiar scent of the meal he had eaten so often with Anthony, he gave up fighting. He sighed and moved to the desk, not bothering with a spoon and instead tearing the loaf apart and dipping it into the piping hot stew. His famished body nearly went into shock over how good it was.

“That is better,” she said. “I cannot force you to sleep, but, in spite of the vicious rumors about your honesty, I do not believe you will lie to me. Will you promise me that you will rest?”

Loki glared at her, but it fell flat. Her glare was stronger.

“When did you last sleep?” she asked.

“I do not know,” he answered. “Days, I suppose.”

“And has that helped you find an answer?”

“Well, no,” Loki admitted. In truth, the words were beginning to blur. The last thing he wanted to do was make a mistake brought on by exhaustion.

“Then sleep,” she said, taking back the empty bowl, but giving him a smile. “If you need anything else, only ask for it. You have friends, my prince, as does Anthony, and they would help you in this endeavor if you would but let them know what they could do. I will be back in eight hours with more food, and you are going to eat it. Yes?”

Loki felt a chuckle, the first in a very long time, shake his chest.

“Yes,” he agreed. “I promise.”

She nodded, picked up the empty tray, and left, using her foot to close the door behind her.

“One more hour, then rest,” he mumbled to himself.

“Now!” demanded Pepper’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Fine! Now!” he called back, annoyed but strangely grateful, and he fell into bed, asleep in moments.

Dawn rose, and he awoke again. A tray from the bakery next door to the forge sat on his desk, evidence that somehow Pepper had managed to gain entry again while he slept. He hadn’t even stirred. He took a moment to splash water on his face, grabbed a large pastry filled with sliced apples and cinnamon, and began reading again.

Shortly before noon, he knew he was as certain as he would ever be. Taking a deep breath, he closed the final book with a snap, double checked that he had packed all the necessary items in his bag, and teleported directly to the front door of the forge. The door already stood open.

“Did you find it?” Peter asked immediately, hopping up from his spot by the fire and all but running to him. “Will it work?”

“I hope so,” Loki said. “At any rate, I am now certain it will do no harm. Where is Anthony?”

“Next door, buying bread.”

Loki put his bag on the table and began pulling out vials of different colored liquids, parchment packets of herbs, and a variety of other things that really shouldn’t have been able to fit in the small leather pouch, but Peter barely noticed.

“I should leave,” Peter said.

“It might be wise,” Loki agreed.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No,” Loki said.

“You’re not going to cut your heart out and start bleeding all over the floor and need people to carry you to the healers again, are you?” Peter asked very rapidly, trying to sound calm.

Loki stared at him a moment before reassuring him, “No. That is not part of the spell this time.”

“Fantastic,” he said, visibly relaxing. “Just checking. Good luck!”

Peter left at once. After he did, the workshop grew strangely colder. Loki shivered, wondering if the shade of Obadiah was making itself felt. He glanced at the spot on the floor where the man’s body had been, and a very dim outline of a stain could still be seen. Loki didn’t believe in ghosts. He had no need for belief since he knew they were fact and had conversed with several of them.

“Understand, damned one, that if you ever attempt even the slightest harm on the one who killed you or anyone else, I will visit upon you terrors so great that you will wish for the comforts of Hel,” Loki said. “You know I do not lie. Begone.”

To be safe, he sprinkled needles of windwort in the area where the man had died, but he still felt a chill that he knew had nothing to do with a ghost. His palms were covered in cold sweat, and he sat down on Peter’s stool by the fire, his stomach in knots.

Loki felt as though he waited for Anthony’s return for an hour, but in reality it was only a handful of minutes before the door opened once more. Anthony remained motionless in the doorframe, knowing immediately what Loki’s presence meant. Loki stood.

“You have found a way to do it?” Anthony asked.

“Possibly,” Loki said. “I am not certain if it will work, but I know it cannot hurt you.”

Anthony stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, then drew the bolt.

“Do you still want me to do this?” Loki asked.

Anthony said nothing for a moment, putting down the package from the bakery.

“There have been some benefits to not being able to feel love,” Anthony admitted. “I have no jealousy, no fears of heartbreak. I feel more efficient. But I do want to feel again. I need the part of me that is sleeping to wake.”

Loki stood near him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I will do what I can,” he said. “Casting the spell will not take long, and you will sleep through it. When you wake, I will be in the garden, sitting on the bench under the willow if you should… wish to speak with me. If not, you need say nothing at all. I will understand.”

Anthony put his own hand on top of Loki’s.

“I know this is difficult for you,” he said, “and it is not your fault. You have done your best, and I am grateful to you. Your loyalty has been extraordinary, but if the spell does not work, then seek some other love. You deserve happiness, and perhaps the Norns have fated you to be with someone else.”

Loki didn’t speak his thoughts, not wanting to make the man feel guilt, but there was no changing the fact that Anthony would always hold his heart in every way. There would never be another love for him. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.

The spell began. Loki was absorbed in every step, his concentration so complete that it was almost painful. When at last it was done, he looked at Anthony’s sleeping form resting on the table, his breaths deep and slow.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, allowing himself the liberty of placing a single lingering kiss on Anthony’s forehead. “Please.”

Loki walked out the back door, leaving it open. He went towards the willow tree where they had first kissed, then sat on the bench, facing the back of the forge, his heart racing.

The afternoon was bright, the sky cloudless. The willow’s shade stretched across the path, keeping the bench in a cool shadow. Sounds from the street reached him but were muffled, distant, as though they belonged in some other world. For Loki, all that existed was this scruffy little garden. All that mattered was waiting. He barely dared to blink, his every muscle tense as his eyes were trained on the door.

Hours passed.

Nothing happened.

He had no idea how long Anthony would sleep. Perhaps he had awakened already and had decided to leave Loki alone, that there had been no change. What little pride he had left nettled him, telling him he was waiting pathetically for a man who had already told him he had no love in his heart for him and who was now doing him the favor of not rubbing his foolishness in his face. Glancing at the sky through the willow’s leaves, he decided he would wait until sunset. It wouldn’t be long now.

Loki watched as the last light of day slipped slowly below the rooftops bit by bit, taking any remaining hope with it. The air turned gray and cold, clouds covered the sky, and he knew. The time had passed. Anthony must be awake by now. Loki had failed.

Slowly, his cramped legs straightened, and he stood, swaying slightly on the spot from changing his position after hours of ceaseless tension. He shouldered his bag, ready to disappear and return to his rooms, but the strain proved too much. He wanted to leave with dignity, but he felt tears on his face before he even realized he was weeping. Unable to see, he collapsed back onto the bench, his heart tearing itself into shreds as pain coursed through him. It was over. He had lost his Anthony forever.

Loki nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Anthony slowly knelt before him on the ground, one hand gently stroking his arm. Loki stopped breathing. A single drop of rain fell on his shoulder, then another.

“On the day you walked into my workshop, I noticed your eyes. I had never seen eyes so green. They took my breath away, and I worried that I must have looked like a fool, trying to speak normally when all I could think about was how beautiful you were,” he said.

“Anthony?” he whispered, his heart pounding in wild hope as the rain began coming down harder. He looked into his eyes, and he knew. Their brown depths were warm and soft once more, the eyes of the man he had never stopped loving.

“I began to fall in love with you for a thousand little things: the shape of your hands, the sound of your voice, the way you made me laugh, the kindness you showed Peter, the brilliant ideas you had, the mischief you brought into my life. When you touched my hand for the first time in the tavern, when you asked to court me, it took every bit of self-control I had not to kiss you right then,” he said, and by now he was sitting beside Loki on the bench, holding both of his hands in his own.

The rain was still falling, and neither of them cared.

“When you freed me from prison and we came here, and I kissed you for the first time, I feared it was only a dream, that I was still locked in the dungeon and would wake to find you gone from me, believing the lies Obadiah had seeded,” he said. “But you were here. You were real, and when you told me you loved me, when we finally became lovers on the eve of your birthday, I had never been so happy in all my life.”

Anthony brought Loki’s hand to his lips as the raindrops fell thick around them and thunder rolled through the sky above.

“My love for you never died, Loki,” he said. “I have been right here, seeing everything you did, striving to break free and awaken, wanting so desperately to take away your pain. I was in agony, trapped inside, frozen. But you made me whole again. For the second time, you have freed me. And I love you.”

Loki lifted a trembling hand to Anthony’s cheek, stroking through his beard, reveling in the way he turned into his touch, shutting his eyes and smiling softly.

“I thought I would never truly hold you again,” Loki said before he took him into his arms

He was just about to kiss him when the rain washed over them in torrents. Loki paused, a thought occurring to him.

“Thor!” he yelled towards the sky. “While your enthusiasm for our reunion is appreciated, you can stop now! Also, a bit of privacy, please!”

The rain ceased immediately.

Anthony began to laugh, Loki joining in, until at last their lips met, the taste of the rain still clinging to them. Loki remembered every detail: the slight chapping on Anthony’s lips, his woodsmoke scent, the warmth of his breath against his drenched skin, and the sound of his sighs. It had been so very long, and yet all of it was his once again. The moment Anthony pressed closer to him, his hands running the length of his back and his mouth opening to him, allowing him in, Loki finally believed his nightmare was over. Anthony’s heart was mended, and they would love each other forever.

Anthony drew back only enough to breathe.

“I still owe you a mug of mead,” he said, smiling at him before kissing him again.

“And I still owe you a ring,” Lok countered, mouthing against the other man’s neck, delighting in the feel of his skin beneath his lips and giddy from happiness as Anthony groaned. “Shall we adjourn inside to complete our reunion, or shall I just take you against this tree?”

Anthony smiled cheekily as he stood. He gave the trunk of the willow an appraising look and raised an eyebrow at Loki, seeming to consider the possibility for a moment. Then he laughed and took Loki’s hand in his. He grew serious again, looking into the eyes of his lover as he led him through the door of his home.

Peter arrived nervously at the forge the next morning to find a note with his name on it tacked to the door. When he read it, he smiled in relief. It said simply, “Take a holiday for the rest of the week. Anthony has come home.”