Loki X Reader || Girl With The Gold Earring

26 | Standing Water

Beca's lip twitched at one corner, and it occurred to Y/N that she might be messing with them. "Do you think the Allfather has an ulterior motive?" she sent Arne's question back to him as though it was a ball she'd deflected with a well-timed kick.

He's still taking the barkeep seriously; Y/N can tell by the knot between his eyebrows. After some time, he concluded thoughtfully:

"It's a possibility."

'He's right, regardless of whether Beca's scepticism is genuine or not,' Y/N contemplated. Alfdis may defend Odin's decisions with ox-like stubbornness, but the Allfather had lost Y/N's trust as soon as he'd agreed to trade his youngest son like a bargaining chip. Just because he's the Allfather that doesn't mean he's not capable of wickedness. Perhaps he is planning something. 'That's the only way this whole alliance thing could make any sense.' 

Y/N hid the bitter twist of her mouth with a sip of apple tea. The heat pricked her tongue, but the sweetness tended to the burn like honey easing a sore throat.

"If he is up to something," Arne began, his voice still low like an animal creeping tentatively from a hiding place, "what do you think it might be?"

Surprise flittered momentarily behind Beca's one good eye, and Y/N rolled hers.

"She's joking, Arne," she said kindly, giving the broad back of his hand a little pat.

His cheeks coloured, and Beca wilted a little guiltily.

"Were you?"

"Yeah. Sorry, Arne; I'd just got sick of those drunks at the bar going on about it." But then she said gently: "Just because I don't smell anything fishy about the alliance doesn't mean there's nothing to smell. I might just have poor senses. Do you follow?"

Sounding as sure as his words: "...I think so?"

Another futile glance about the room. "What I mean is: more people are sceptical about it than you might think."

That made a swell of something hot blossom in Y/N's chest, and it had nothing to do with her tea. She's not the only one who regards the alliance with narrowed eyes? Others dare to question Odin's authority? Not aloud, not publicly, clearly, but privately, quietly? Y/N's frown almost turned up into a slight, hopeful smile. Her love-riddled heart isn't the only reason for her unease; if others feel it too, perhaps there's a real, justifiable reason?

"What are the other sceptics saying?" She estimated that Beca is only a few decades or so older than herself, and yet---looking up at the barkeep like this---she feels like a curious child begging for ghost stories.

Perhaps she is. 

Beca shifted her weight onto her other hip and stroked a finger and thumb down the point of her chin as though teasing a beard. "One man said he thinks the Allfather is trying to unite the kingdoms so he'll have more warriors to combat a Frost Giant invasion."

Y/N's ears metaphorically pricked up. Her limited knowledge of Frost Giants stems from stories she'd been told as a child, and words that flitter about the streets.

From what she's gathered, they come from a realm so cold, water does not flow, and if---by some miracle---a flower was to bloom, it would instantly turn brittle and shatter like thin glass. The people that live there are barely people at all; they're towering monstrosities with limbs as thick and gnarled as the branches of an oak. Immune to the bite of the coldest cold, they dress in nothing but slips of fur, their skin---the colour of a glacier and twice as frigid---exposed indecently to the elements.