February 2008
Sif... No, no; that was too informal. My dearest Sif?
I groaned as I tore the paper from the journal, crumbling it into a tight ball only for it to land amongst at least a dozen others as I stared helplessly at the fresh and empty journal page. I knew break-ups were hard, but why was this so difficult when there wasn't any love in our relationship to begin with?
For over thirteen years now, I had held up my end of the bargain and pretended to court Sif in hopes of one day being allowed to marry her. Neither of us had ever thought it would be allowed to go this far, particularly not I seeing as Father was still set upon marrying Sif to Thor despite acting as if he was giving us a chance. I had never wanted to completely ruin his plans for that, I had just wanted to toss a wrench of jealousy-fueled hatred into them in hopes that perhaps he would name me future king instead. As scheduled, though, the announcement had come during Nyttarsbukk celebrations over a month ago; Thor was to be named future king and I, I was to be his counsel until such a time as he wished to relieve me from such duties. Just as my uncle, Tyr, had been appointed to Father after the war with Muspelheim had stolen the lives of his elder brothers, Vili and Vé, leaving them the remaining accepted sons of Bor, I was expected to serve and oversee my brother; to help keep him on the right path until he either chose someone else or I deemed him capable of protecting the realm without me. I often wondered how such a task could fall to and be expected of someone such as me, yet here we were.
To make matters worse, not only was I still entangled with Sif, for better or worse at the moment, but I had also allowed myself to become involved with Fandral shortly before the Jul celebrations had commenced. It had happened by accident, yet it had been a happy one as despite not truly caring for him the way he deserved either, I felt more connected to Fandral than Sif. Despite seeing many battles, she had not faced the hardships Fandral had, nor had she ever been forced to hide her true feelings and base emotions as we had; she was simply not broken as we were. And while Fandral and I would never completely understand one another, at least we could bond over our similar traumas, mostly because he cared enough to listen to mine... I sighed, hating myself for the juggling act I had created within my tangled web. I wanted nothing more than to drop just one of the items I felt doomed to carry, but which was the right choice? Sif felt like the right one as despite the issues my relationship with Fandral presented, at least there was something close to real within it.
I looked down at the notebook again, the blankness of the paper seeming to mock me as I wracked my brain trying to think of the words. For all the secrets and lies I kept, this one had been almost as hard to maintain as my 'disdain' for Eibhlin; I would be glad when it was over. Picking up the book of fairytales, I opened it to the title page of the tale of The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces, Eibhlin's favorite, where I had hidden the sprig of rock cress flowers she had left on my plate of waffles almost three years prior. How was it that such a simple thing brought me so much peace? I held the delicate dried bunch of flowers carefully in my fingers, a small smile overtaking my face. This had to be done; I couldn't keep living a lie, Sif and I deserved better... even if that better meant my being alone, or worse- father marrying me off to someone of his choosing as a means of protecting our treaties now that a decision had been made.
Honestly, this should have been done years ago when we first realized that the plan wasn't going to work. By the time that had become clearer though, I had developed an appreciation of her company; even if it wasn't completely returned. We had been over our heads from the beginning, everyone seemed to know it yet no one had done anything to stop us; no one had even seemed to care, at least not the way we had wanted them to... Maybe that was why we had carried on for so long. Despite not caring much for the other, in many ways, we were all the other had, or at least we had been until everything with Fandral had begun. That was yet another problem I had to consider as I plotted out my note; unless I chose to be the coward I was beginning to feel I was and never spoke word of it.
I tossed the notebook down by my feet in a huff. Writing her a letter seemed cowardly to begin with but was it worse than letting my father do my dirty work? I thought not, yet who truly knew anymore these days? I stretched, delighting in the popping sounds my neck and shoulders made as the tension began to slide from them. I wished I could talk to Eibhlin, even if only to tease her about something; her voice was always so comforting. As I picked the sprig of rock cress flowers up once more, their edges just starting to brown, I couldn't help but think that maybe I was a coward after all and had been for much longer than I cared to admit.
"Loki," a familiar voice called to me from outside my door, the knock a light tapping noise that I knew well but never fully enjoyed the way I did another's; "Are you in there, oh Master of Mischief?"
"For Bor's sake, just come in Fandral," I called back, not bothering to move. The door opened as the blonde knight entered my room, looking dashing as always. I eyed him suspiciously; this was either a business meeting or a personal one and as neither had been scheduled, I had no idea which to plan for. "What do you want?"
"So cold, I would ask if you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, yet I already know the answer to that," his eyebrows danced across his forehead in that arrogant attempt at flirtation. It wooed all the dim-witted serving wenches far too easily, but it had never done a thing for me. "I came to see if you had told Sif about what we discussed last evening. I know you want to wait for the best time, yet I worry that if you carry this out any further there's a chance it will cause issues at the Coronation, particularly if your father plans to announce her betrothal to Thor despite your fake relationship."
"Would you keep your voice down," I snarled, glaring at him. "The coronation is not for over a year still. Thor is only nine-hundred and ninety-nine, he cannot be crowned until after his one-thousandth birthday; I have plenty of time yet." He sighed and shook his head.
"I shall take that as a sign you have not, and that these scattered bits of paper have been your attempts at finding words to do such?" He stooped, grabbing a ball that had fallen to the floor and uncrumpled it. "You haven't even managed to get past her name, have you?"
I shook my head, sighing with irritation as I threw myself back so my head bounced against the headboard; hopefully, it would help to knock the right words to the surface of my mind. "I did not have the nerve to say anything at breakfast, so I have been attempting to write her an infernal letter but no words seem right to express that while I appreciate her and all that we have, this is just no longer a charade I wish to participate in."
"So say that? I find it difficult to believe that your silver tongue has managed to fail you; unless I have tired it out these last few evenings," he teased as he sat beside my head and brushed my hair out of the way. "Perhaps I should remind you how well mine works?"
I rolled my eyes at him, trying to hide the deep frown that pulled at my lips as he kissed my forehead and allowed the overpowering scent of wine to wash over me. He had been drinking again... "While normally I would not be against such, particularly in such a moment, this has left me feeling less than amorous."
"What if I help you?"
"No, this is something that must come from my head and mine alone."
"Well, I'd say you could always use my method of choice, but I don't know how well that would go over with Sif."
"I would imagine your smash-and-dash method would be less than favorable in her eyes and I quite like my organs and appendages where they are."
He chuckled; a deeply wonderful sound only rivaled by one other. "Yes, as do I. Is it true she sleeps with her swords?"
"Only when I am not in bed with her. Even so, they are never out of reach."
"I suppose it makes sense, given that she is the half-sibling of our golden gatekeeper. Honestly, were I in your shoes I would probably be more fearful of him than her." He was not wrong and it was something that I had been concerned about when it had been him who had been relieved of his post for the evening to attend family dinner on our second anniversary; a surprise I had not expected nor planned for.
"I doubt he would do anything, he has his duties and she is not his responsibility."
"She is also a grown woman in comparison to you. One who can very much handle her own."
"Yet she acts as though she was still a petty school-girl; particularly when it comes to my brother."
"Love does many a wonderous thing to us," he said with a sigh as he laid back beside me, our hands resting together as his head rested by my knees. "She has cared for Thor since the time he gave her a flower when you were both, what, five-hundred and seventy? That is not a love that goes away easily," he said with a soft sigh. I knew somehow this was going to tie back into the greatest reason for his drinking and I braced myself for his most recent run-in with the ghosts of his past. "I saw the dog girl today...She was out gathering the snowdrops that bloom near the orchard; she had on that brown kitchen dress with the green and gold trim under what looked like one of Thyra's old cloaks. It was far too big for her, and absolutely the wrong colors... Still, she looks more and more like Marian every day..."
"Marian is dead, Fandral..." I felt him sigh before I heard it, the sound like the last breath of a dying man. I hated how much her memory still weighed on him, though not as much as I hated how much Eibhlin triggered it for him because of the way he seemed to long for her. Sighing, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are simply seeing ghosts in a young woman who bares only the slightest resemblance to your deceased wife. Besides, you have said it many a time; who would want to stick their wick in such a candle?" I shuddered at the crude verbiage, yet it seemed to work some as he chuckled and shrugged.
"While true and not something I would ever do, I admit that I would settle for the ghost of her if it would ease the pain that I must miss her more than my own life for at least another few thousand years yet..."
I pulled on his hand as I sat up, forcing him into a sitting position so we faced one another. I held up our interlocked hands, watching as his blue eyes took on a darker shine. "If I knew a way to bring her back, you know I would for you. Eibhlin will not fill the void any more than every other redheaded serving and tavern wench you have come across this far. I cannot even fill that void for you."
"I love that you try though."
I shrugged. Saying her name, particularly in this context, always made me feel selfish. A part of me wished I could trust Fandral with more than just our secret tryst, that I could own up to him or anyone about my affections for her. It was not a risk I was willing to take though. "At least you have had someone, have felt that connection with them-"
"You have never felt any similar connection?"
I shook my head and shrugged. "Cold-hearted to the bone, I suppose."
"I don't find you cold." His free hand reached forward to cup my face, his thumb rubbing against my cheek.
I shook him away. "Fandral, please; I do not need this right now."
"I was merely trying to comfort you. It seemed we could both benefit from some..."
"No, you need comforting. I need a clear head," I snapped, my frustration with myself bubbling to the surface and lashing out at him unnecessarily.
He stared at me for a moment before attempting to touch me again. His blue eyes greyed further when I swatted his hand aside. "Why do I bother with you," he grumbled, rising and heading straight towards my pitcher of mead.
I rose, quickly taking the glass from him and pitching it out the window. His eyes grew even more stormy as he glared at me. "You said you were going to cut back. We had a deal."
"You said you were going to break things off with Sif over a month ago when this all began mere days before your birthday. You said that even if you had to maintain the public act, you would stop seeing her privately-"
"You have not stopped bedding serving girls, why should I?"
"Sif is not a serving girl and I will not tolerate you treating her that way."
"Why? It is not like you are treating her any differently right now." I wanted to take the words back, wanted to apologize, and ask him to stay, to help me figure out how I was going to break things off with Sif. Instead, I let him go; my pitcher of wine still clasped in his hand. Chastising myself, I shut the door he had left open and stormed across my room to sit in my window. At this rate, I may have no one regardless of what I wanted.
By the time dinner arrived later that evening, I had two letters in hand: one for Sif that simply told her I needed to speak to her at her earliest convenience, and one for Fandral that was the best apology I could manage, along with the offer for him to meet me in the stables again later that evening. If nothing else, I could at least attempt to part with them both on good terms. Sneaking into the dining hall while it was still being prepared, I placed the letters under each of their respective plates. I took a goblet from a passing wine steward, intent to calm my nerves the way I had seen Fandral do at least a thousand times over. I had barely made it through half of the glass when Sif and the Warriors Three entered the hall. From the way Fandral was walking, he had found at least twelve more carafes of wine to drink after leaving my room. This wasn't something I wanted to deal with and from the look on Sif's face, this wasn't what she had wanted to be burdened with either. I offered her a knowing nod of sympathy before she came over and kissed my cheek.
"We need to talk later," she whispered in my ear.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Had Fandral said something to her? No, no; no, he could not have. He would not have. Voicing our relationship would not only out me but him. While most Asgardians would not care, those Fandral worked closely beside and took commands from, would. It was not something he wanted out there any more than I did. Nodding, I kissed her nose. "I put an envelope under your plate saying the same thing. During dessert?"
She nodded before slinking away as Mother and Father entered with the Diplomat. The Headman of the Troll Lords did not approve of public displays of affection and while women in their ranks were regarded as warriors and held positions like their men, they could not outrank them. As such, we were to be separated for dinner this evening; something I appreciated for several reasons though I was now wishing I could be separated from Fandral as well.
Thor arrived late as usual, waving a small apology at Father as he quickly took his seat just as the last of the food was presented. In honor of our visiting guest, our dinner was very meat heavy; platters of ribbe, pølser I ølbad, and shaved reindeer with creamy mushrooms had been carefully laid out along the table for passing, along with large bowls of rakfisk dip, bidos, and cod soup. Small trays held cured reindeer, brunost, and settekake, and the scent of meatballs in brunost lingered in the air though I could not find any. Several serving hands wandered the hall with either platters of sweet and sour cabbage, sautéed apples, prunes, and onions, or baskets of warm crusty buns. I kept a discreet eye out for Eibhlin, yet I never saw her.
As I made my plate, one of the kitchen girls- a waif of a thing only a few years older than Thor, emerged with a large mug of piping hot chocolate. She placed it beside me, her small breasts brushing my arm as she almost pressed herself head-first into my lap. "A gift from the kitchens, Your Highness. Do let me know if there is anything else I can get or do for you?"
"No, Yrsa. Thank you, do tell your Mistress that I send my thanks" I muttered.
"I will, Your Highness. And if you do change your mind, just let me know," she said with a soft wink, sauntering away exaggeratedly.
"Careful with that one, Loki; she's rather wild."
"I have no doubts," I said with a roll of my eyes, as Fandral watched me closely, sipping from his goblet obnoxiously. I sighed. I just had to get through with this meal and then I could go and talk to Sif. Hopefully, we could sort things out before Fandral said or did anything too revealing.
I picked at my dinner, not caring too much for anything on my plate besides perhaps the bits of crackling fat from my ribbe rolled alongside some of the cured reindeer on a lightly brunost smeared piece of yeast bread. Even my hot chocolate failed to hold its usual spell on me. I tried to engage in conversation with the other young nobles and knights around me, yet no one held my attention enough to keep me from creating small firework displays in my hand beside the table.
Behind me, I could hear Sif laughing with some of the other ladies as the scent of brown cheese-smothered meatballs grew stronger. I thought about getting up to see if they had been given different dishes and helping myself to some of those meatballs if they had. As I moved to excuse myself to do just that, an angel appeared with a small bronze bowl for me filled with them.
"Hlíf said your table did not receive any of these. I know how much you enjoy them, Your Highness." I stared at her freckled face, a few tendrils of her auburn curls having fallen from the soft piles of hair that she had gathered at her temples and pulled back, leaving the rest of her hair to hang loosely in gentle spirals down to the very tops of where her thighs would have stood beneath her dress.
"Thank you, Eibhlin." When had she begun to look so grown up? And why was it becoming harder and harder to not hold her gaze or allow my hand to linger on or near hers when we touched?
"Special treats yet again, young prince," one of the senior knights who worked directly beneath Hogun tutted. "Where are ours, demon girl?"
I watched as she bowed her face, unsure of how to react. I wanted to strike him, yet I knew that would do me no good. "I am sure she is going to gather some more for you lot, right, dog girl?" The cruel name felt terrible on my tongue, but her response was far worse.
Her lip quivered; those soft, pillowy-looking lips that I longed to kiss and bite were more telling than her eyes or the rest of her body language. I hated every second of being the reason why she was fighting back against tears as she forced a smile. Eibhlin shook her head softly, her hair barely moving with it, ears flat against her head as she began apologizing quickly before explaining that they had run out of serving bowls for all of the meatballs that had been prepared. "Who would like a bowl, I will be happy to bring some for you."
Volstagg's hand shot up followed by three others. Eibhlin nodded, turning just as the more boisterous knight lifted his hand and gave her plentiful backside a firm smack. She froze for only a moment, her jaw feathering as her hands balled into fists. She did not say a word though as he and several others around us chuckled, she simply rolled her shoulders back and marched off back to the kitchens. I wanted to go after her to make sure she was alright or perhaps tear the man to shreds, and from the scowl Thor wore, he felt the same way.
"Firm little body on that one. I like them curvy. Shame about the ears though; I'd give the little beast a night in my bed if I didn't fear that she'd attempt to eat me afterward."
"Afterward? By the Gods, Roar, you'd be lucky if it didn't take a bite during."
"Wouldn't be the first time some wildling half-breed has tried," Roar chortled, finding himself most amusing. "What a waste of a beautiful body on such a demonic thing."
Thor placed his hands loudly on the table, muttering about having lost his appetite as he stormed away. What I would not have given for such freedom; Father's eye followed his blonde son before it fell to me. I turned away, noting how Fandral eyed me, swirling his wine about his goblet as he shook his head while the other men rolled their eyes and bantered about why their future king had left. Mother looked my way from the head table, concern hidden in her eyes. I took a breath and just nodded at her as Eibhlin returned, carrying the four bowls on a small tray. She set them down before each man in silence, leaving Roar's for last. I watched him carefully as he dragged his grease-covered fingers through her hair, moving it away from her shoulder and face as he boldly attempted to stare down the front of her dress.
"I would not do that if I were you," I heard her mutter as she caught his hand that reached for the lacings on her tunic.
"Why so modest, little huldra? Why not let us see what's under that simple dress, hmm?"
"I will not warn you again, Sir."Eibhlin pulled away from his grasp, forcing his arm away as his elbow bumped against his glass, knocking the wine into his lap.
Roar jumped up as the icy red liquid collided with his pants, crying out in surprise as he growled at Eibhlin. "Liten tispe!" The smack of his hand against her face echoed over the room, forcing everyone to turn and Mother to race from her seat to her adopted daughter's side, yet not as fast as I was out of my chair, blocking Roar from striking her again.
"Not another move," I snarled, Roar's sneering mouth surrounded by his bristly beard only inches from my face. I would not put it past him to attempt to go after me and was already preparing an illusion to keep him at bay when Mother's voice rang out.
"Sir Roar, I think it is time for you to take your leave."
"All-Mother, I-"
"Fandral, Hogun, please help Roar to his barracks. Loki, please see to it that your sister," she hissed the words, her eyes never leaving Roar's; "is safely returned to her chambers." Hogun rose and gave Mother a soft half bow, quickly grabbing a now mortified Roar by his arm as he began to drag him away. Fandral sighed, rising and making a display of tucking my note into his breast pocket before he followed after. I could hear Roar muttering apologies and Hogun silencing him as they went.
I helped Eibhlin to her feet, she kept her face down yet I could see the cut that had formed across her cheek, no doubt from the scales of Roar's vambrace. I began to usher her from the room in silence as Mother stopped me, her hand firm on my shoulder as she asked me to make sure to return and update her when I was finished. "Yes Mother, but-"
"No excuses. We will discuss this later." I sighed. Mother was the master of masking; she could be seething inside, and right now I knew she was by the dark tone beneath her soft words, but you would never know it from the look of her.
I hurried after Eibhlin, Sif eyeing me bitterly as she drank from her goblet. Another matter I would have to attend to later, it seemed. I managed to catch up with her in the hall; Thor must have been wandering the halls after he had left the table, seeing as he was now examining Eibhlin's face when I came near. "It should not leave a scar," I heard him finish, his hand releasing her jaw as he gave her a gentle smile.
"Thank you, Your High-"
"Eibhlin, please, Thor or Brother." She sighed and nodded.
I opened my mouth to speak but was quickly cut off as a fuming Sif came storming toward us. "Whatever did you do to make such a spectacle of yourself, Little Beast? Could you not behave yourself just once?"
"I highly doubt this was her fault, Sif. Roar has always had a short temper, not to mention wandering hands. It is part of why I moved tables; I could not handle his continuous commentary."
"Still, she didn't have to provoke him; and on the first night of the Troll Lord Headsman's stay. Do you want them to refuse the treaty, Little Beast? I imagine you would, that would be just the sort of thing a filthy, conniving, little-"
"That is enough, Pet," I snapped. Her head whipped around as she glared at me. "Go back and try to be a pleasant guest at the Headman's dinner. We will speak later." She huffed at me, her nostrils flaring and from the visions I glimpsed in her mind, I was going to be in for it when I next saw her. I turned, my anger settling on Thor. "You should go back as well. One of us should be there and since you are Father's favorite, it should be you." I hadn't meant for my venom to fall on him, yet I couldn't help but feel as if it was his existence that was the root of all of my problems. Had I been the only Odinson, there would never have been any need for the battle we had waged since childhood, no need for me to constantly feel as if the line was continuously being moved.
Thor's blue eyes looked mournfully at me before he sighed, touching Eibhlin's face once more reassuringly as he told her to rest. Clasping my shoulder in one of his meaty hands, he warned me to "Be kind to her, she does not deserve your anger," softly. He strode away then, not once mentioning how he did not deserve my anger either. I rolled my eyes out of habit at his selflessness, yet underneath it, my heart sank.
I led Eibhlin back to her room in silence, pausing at her door; the only truly circular one in the entire castle with leaves and vines painted across it. Her head was still bowed, yet I lifted it forcing her to look at me as I, too, examined her cheek. While Thor had been right about it not being deep enough to leave a scar, from the way her eyes watered I sensed that might be a fear of hers. It would have been easy to infiltrate her mind and far more engaging than Sif's, yet hers was a mind I wanted permission to enter. A strange feeling, yet still, it lingered; preventing me from doing what most felt natural.
"This may sting a bit..." I said as I touched her wound, mouthing the incantation as a familiar green glow pulsed from my fingers. I watched as it sealed the cut, leaving nothing behind but a soft, sun-kissed blush. She did not wince once. "There. Good as new."
"Thank you, Your Highness."
"You are very welcome. I... I am sorry. I should have intervened before Roar could strike you."
Her mossy eyes looked up at me, the honey glow at the edges of her irises only further illuminated by the candle light in the hall, giving the deep green a more inviting shimmer. Hers were the kind of forest eyes I could easily get lost in for days. "It is not your fault, Your Highness; I do not blame you," the lilt in her voice was always stronger when she was sad, a reminder that despite how long she had been here, she would never be able to shake her background. She looked down and away from me again then, her feet nervously turning in as she toyed with the hem of her sleeve. "I am sorry, too. You will miss the dessert I made. I, I know how much you hate these events, so I spent this morning churning some ice cream to make a daimiskake; Frode even made a toffee crumble just like his father used to. Perhaps he will save you a piece, or I could go and get you one-"
"Eibhlin," I cut her off, the urge to wrap her in my arms and kiss every one of the freckles that graced her softly angled, triangle-shaped face difficult to ignore the longer those eyes stared into mine. I sighed, a more huff-like sound than I had wanted as I met her eyes once more, a cautiously optimistic look in them as she waited patiently. "I am not worried about that right now; I am worried, well, I am worried about you..." I held up my hand then, hesitating as I reached out to touch her face once again when loud footsteps came rushing down the hall.
It was just some of the staff members' children playing a game of tag as they raced down the halls to occupy themselves; an older child chasing behind them and apologizing profusely for their volume. I chuckled softly, at least someone was having fun this evening. When I turned back to look at Eibhlin again, she was gone. I sighed, leaning against her door; I lifted my hand to knock only to let it fall back against my side, keeping my feelings to myself- just another secret that I would never voice.