Skye [Loki]

Chapter 18 | Arrival of the House Varney

Chapter 18 | Arrival of the House Varney 

That morning, Loki stood, stiff and unwilling before his mirror, his head positioned to the left so he could see the corner of his jaw. “Do you think it wise?” he questioned, tilting his head back to address the stubble on his chin with a small blade.

“I think it a fine idea.” Frigga simply put, her eyes never leaving the reflection of his own emerald gaze. She noticed his eyes darken as he moved to turn around. 

“But do you think it wise?” His tone punitive- fatigue evident across his features. The circles beneath his eyes gave Frigga pause, now making her wonder if perhaps was indeed the best time to discuss the matter. 

Trying to approach the situation with understanding and calming tones, Frigga swallowed the doubt, and uttered a single word. “Yes.”

“Well, I don’t agree.” He confessed, turning to finish his work. 

“I really wish you’d allow one of the servants to do that.” Frigga expressed , stepping forward. “You might harm yourself.”

“Another thing you think me incapable of doing.” He sneered, washing his face before he moved into his bedroom. 

“Loki, please- I am worried. I only wish to be reasonable.” 

“Reasonable.” He scoffed as he turned to face his mother, clenching the sharp blade he still held within his hand, his knuckles now white. “How-dare-you.” Distaste oozing from his lips. “Here you stand – in spare of our mighty King, in hope that you might – what? Marry me off to some fine lady, so that Odin can restore the peace he once lost? We are both pawns, in a game I no longer wish to play.” 

“Loki!” Frigga scolded. She was not appalled, but rather shocked by Loki’s new found confidence. Where was he getting this from?

“It is a dangerous game we play.” 

“Then you’d be wise to play by the rules!” Frigga’s eyes blazed. She was rarely found in a state of utter rage, but her youngest son never had any trouble finding the wrong buttons to push. Her nostrils flared, and then professed, “You will do well to remember that if you don’t   – it won’t be you that gets broken.” 

“You are mistaken, if you think I have any regard left toward Miss Edricksdottir.”

“You think me unsighted?” She motioned toward his figure, sure of his recent attitude and unsightly behaviour over these passing weeks.  Loki drags his hand through his hair, ruffling it until Frigga notices the tired lines on his face, and then the redness in the corners of his eyes. “Though, it’s funny that you should think of Miss Edricksdottir – and yet, I failed to mention her name.” 

At that, Frigga turned and marched away. Loki let out a sigh, dropping his head in devastation so he could reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose. He knew what she spoke of, and she was right. His actions and their consequences, once confined to his own wellbeing would no longer be restricted to himself, but rather the one he still cared about. 

-

There was a gentle warmth that fell upon the land of Asgard that day, accompanying the river of silver polished steel and cerulean fabric that made its way toward the palace gates. A sea of spectators had poured into the kingdom to get a glimpse of the foreign royalty. 

The House of Varney was one of elegance and poise- their bannermen and armed knights, freeriding with straight backs and square shoulders. The azure banners whipped about their heads in the taut breeze, the crest of a white mountain wolf laced clearly into its material.