Chapter Two || A Trickster's Game
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"Hello, Loki."
I felt his icy hand flutter across my exposed back and his smile spread across my neck, "Welcome home, my love."
His educated fingers traced the marks my bra had left on my flesh, both of his hands snaking under my open dress and around my sides, pressing them flat just below my breasts. But before he could go any further, I held my open dress close to me and abruptly turned around, "It's not very polite of you to enter a woman's closet without knocking."
Loki knit his thin brows together, his hands resting on my waist, "Since when have I been polite?" He smirked down at me, his green eyes twinkling in the dim light. "You don't seem surprised to see me."
I chuckled and turned around again, reaching being me to wiggle the ribbons of my dress to tell him to lace me up, "I knew it was you the minute the guards told me I'd be staying in your bedroom."
"Then why aren't you staying in my bedchambers?" He took his time tying the laces, purposely brushing his fingers against me, the feeling of his cold hands making the hairs on my flesh stand up. Whether they rose from excitement or discomfort I had yet to figure out. If I spent more time to analyze it, it would probably lean more towards the latter.
Keeping my hair over one shoulder I spoke, a trace of amusement still laced in my voice, "A woman must have her privacy."
Finishing up the last lace of my dress he turned me to face him, keeping his hands on my upper arms, the grip strong and possessive, "You talk as if I haven't seen every inch of you." He then leaned down to press his lips to mine, the movement as swift and as smooth as a cobra charging.
I averted his kiss by moving back, smiling to soften my denial. Gently pushing past him I stepped out of my closet, the room starting to feel like a cage Loki wished to keep me in. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glimmer of Odin's scepter that rested against my vanity table, "Ruling Asgard well, I trust?"
Loki grabbed the Allfather's scepter, following me close, "You know of this?"
With a hint of a smile still on my face I faced him, my arms crossed and my chin tilted upward, "I know a lot of things, Loki."
Loki smirked in response, his right hand tightening around the Allfather's scepter. Knitting my brows together in thought, I said, "It must be difficult keeping Odin's form for so long."
Loki smiled arrogantly and circled me, eyeing the sheet music on my bookshelf with a smidgen of annoyance, "Not if you have had practice. For an inexperienced shapeshifter like yourself, it may be harder to keep someone else's form for a long period of time." I nodded my head and lowered it, my lips pressed tightly together as I thought this over.
Perhaps I should practice shapeshifting more. It would be something to help pass the time now that I'm back in Asgard... Which brings me to another question.
Raising my head, I met Loki's green gaze, "Why did you summon me back here?"
A toothy smile flashed across Loki's slender face, "Isn't it obvious?" He came close, his left hand possessively grabbing me again, except this time by my waist, "I've missed you."
He tried again to connect his lips with mine. However I was quick and turned my head, defensively pressing my hands to his chest to keep my distance in his embrace, "Loki, don't."
He remained by cheek, his breath cold and steady. I could see the frustration boil up in his eyes; his green irises close to boiling like melted metal. He puffed out the air in his chest and walked away, speaking through gritted teeth, "Do I have to be the form of that Parisian musician like the last time I tried to advance on you?"
I felt myself tense, my fists clenching so hard my nails nearly broke the skin of my palms. Flashbacks of the last encounter Loki and I experienced caused anger and humiliation to flicker deep inside me. That first and last encounter was years ago, not long after I had come home from Paris. Not long after Erik had told me Christine was...was pregnant; their first child of many.
I had been young then. Young, naive, and stupid. And I had fell for it. I had fell for Loki's deceit.
I still see him in the palace, standing at the end of the hall. Tall, dark, mysterious. His shoulders wide, his black coat hugging his torso just right, his white porcelain mask glowing warmly in the palace's torch light, his emerald eyes sparkling and confused, "Alouette?"
How I wish I could hear his voice again. It had rumbled deep within his rib cage like an erupting volcano and would travel over to shake the pit of my stomach, sending pleasurable shivers down my spine. I miss the chills his music would give me. I miss the butterflies his fleeting touch would cause.
"Erik, what are you doing here? How did you get to Asgard?"
"I needed to see you again."
I should have known that he was a fake. Erik never knew of Asgard. He never knew who I am. Who I really am. On Earth I am just Alouette, the music director at whatever place I am working at, using a false last name. And to Erik I was his friend. Only his friend.
But that night I was too happy to see Erik that I was blinded. Blinded by the power of the love I had felt for him. That I still feel for him. I allowed him to do what I craved for him to do for so long. The next morning, when I had awakened next to Loki instead of Erik, I hadn't even been all that surprised. I had thanked him. I had thanked Loki for gifting me one night with the mortal I had fallen so deeply in love with.
Now, however, I felt ashamed. Ashamed at letting myself be fooled so easily. Ashamed that I let myself fall into Loki's trap. And angry that Loki had taken advantage of my vulnerable state.
I shouldn't have come back here. I shouldn't have answered to Loki's call. I knew this would happen. I knew he would bring back all of these horrible memories. He enjoys this. He enjoys seeing me suffer from the thought of Erik and the pain the mere name created.
On my balcony I grabbed onto the railing, my knuckles turning white and my ebony hair falling over my down turned face. My eyes shut tight as the images of that night flashed through my mind, striking my heart and scorching it like lightning.
I would do anything for one night with Erik. One true night. One genuine kiss. One genuine touch. I would do anything to have him hold me, to have him kiss me and to taste my name on his tongue.
I felt the cooler presence of Loki behind me and heard the sound Odin's scepter rest against the marble railing. The backs of Loki's fingers brushing against my forearms, the tops of his nails first running down my arms and then the tips of his fingers retracing their path. His voice came out gentler, rueful, "I'm sorry I fooled you the way I did. You have always taught me to be fair and polite. And what I did wasn't fair."
I said nothing, accepting his false apology.
He pressed his nose in my hair and filled his lungs with my scent. The action made me think of an addict taking in a chest full of opium or some other drug like that; the years of use warping their brains and making them the far opposite of sane. Resting his forehead against the back of my head, he whispered, "Why can't you love me? I have black hair. I have green eyes."
I scoffed and retorted, "You also have a criminal background."
"So can he." These three words pierced the air, an unpleasant silence following them.
My brows came together, his words puzzling me and making my skin crawl, "What do you mean?"
Loki kept running his fingers up and down my arms, his voice level and lethally calm, "I have seen it in him. The darkness to do evil."
Scoffing again I shook my head and walked away from him, "That darkness you supposedly saw was gone by the time I had met him."
"As Ptolemy thought, we are all closer to Hell than we are to Heaven." Loki leaned against the railing, his eyes focused on a small orb of green magic that casually rolled between his long fingers. "If you push any man hard enough they can fall right back into the abyss from which they came."
I stared at him, his statement creating a knot of uneasiness in my chest. Loki slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine, his eyes' mischievous twinkle sending a faint feeling of nausea through me.
Loki then stood up straight, the ball of magic disappearing as he gripped Odin's scepter. Loki's dark eyes remained on the golden staff, staring at it in mild wonder; his right hand caressing it as if it were his lover. With a level tone he asked, "Have you ever thought of time travel, Alouette?"
Of course I have. Especially during the years following Erik's death. I often thought of traveling back in time, just so I could see him again, spend one more day with him before he breathed his last breath. I attended his funeral, sitting close at the back, my ears watching instead of my eyes.
Studying Loki's face carefully, I answered, "Yes."
His eyes never meeting mine, he grabbed my hand and gently dragged me into my bedroom, speaking as we went, "I have, too. For years I have thought, 'If we can travel to different realms, why can't we travel to different times?'" Odin's scepter came into contact with ground with a dominant thud! "I've been researching it for many years, all my attempts ending in failure." His left hand snaked around my waist and pulled me to his side, his eyes still fixed on the scepter. Without a word he waved it in front of us, the scepter buzzing to life. I felt the air in front of us vibrate, the heat intensifying. With another wave of the scepter a large round image appeared before us, the sight rippling like a vertical puddle. Eventually it stilled, the picture becoming clear, like I was looking out a window into another world: The world of 1950s America.
I stared wide eyed at the image like a scientist being showed a new discovery. The brightness from the magical window illuminated my pale face and my voice came out airy from awe, "How are you doing this?"
Loki watched with unchanged expression, his hand firmly holding me to him, "Recently I discovered that the reason my attempts were failing was because I lacked the right amount of power to create it. With Odin's scepter," he looked down at it with mild distaste, no doubt remembering his powerful stepfather that he hated so much, "I am able to muster enough energy for it."
"This is incredible." Stepping closer I watched in amazement as the people beyond on the window walked down the street. I studied the women's saddle shoes, the thin waists and wide skirts. I studied the men's summer coats and neat pomade hairstyles. In the corner of the frame a group of teenagers sat outside a soda shop, sipping their cream sodas through a striped straw.
Loki waved the scepter again and the image changed. Before our eyes the dresses grew longer, the men's hats morphing into shiny black top hats, and the buildings crumbling away into buildings of an older architectural design. When the building in the background finished its transformation, I took a step back, my blood running cold and my face no longer loose with wonder but tight with disturbance, "This isn't funny, Loki."
His hand tightened around my waist, the grip almost painful. A dark smirk formed on his thin lips, "I thought you might miss the Opéra Populaire, Alouette. You loved it there. Or was that only because your beloved Opera Ghost resided there. Or more accurately, beneath it." He chuckled mockingly at Erik's old living arrangements.
I attempted to break free from his hold, but his strength was much stronger than mine. He let the scepter stand on it's end, allowing him to wrap his other arm around me. He held me tight to his front, his armor digging into my back, "Maybe you'll like this better, hm?" The scepter glowed again and this time the walls of the Opéra Populiare crumbled away and revealed a smaller house in the country. It is the perfect little house with blue shudders and white paint. Roses were planted all around the front, the red blooms bending slightly in the breeze. Outside of it three little children played in the yard, two boys and one girl. The boys both had jet black hair. The girl had ringlets the color of chestnuts. From the inside I heard a baby giggle and a man laugh.
I stilled.
Loki's lips brushed against my ear, "Do you know this place?" His voice came out smooth and menacing. "You should. Perhaps we should look inside to refresh your memory." I fought against Loki's firm grasp with a new determination, my struggle equivalent to a toddler fighting against a full grown adult.
The image changed again, showing the humble interior of the home. The room on the other side of the magic window was a simple room with the blurry image of a grand piano and a man sitting before it. Before I saw the man from inside, I heard his gentle voice, "No, no, ma petite fleur (my little flower). You need to play the G sharp first. Here, let me show you." The blurry outline of the man wobbled slightly, like that of a camera lens shifting. When it finally came into focus, I felt all the air in my lungs leave me in a harsh whoosh. On his lap sat a small child, no more than two years old, curly hair the color of coal. The man's long fingers fluttered over the ivory keys as gracefully as I remembered. At first I heard nothing of the song he was playing. I leaned away from the window, fighting against my ears' greedy need to hear the music. The string of notes eventually faded through the magical image and to my hungry ears. Once they did I felt each and every one of my senses shut down one by one, just like they did those many years ago when I heard the heavenly sound of his playing.
"Erik, darling, it's time for her lunch."
The music stopped, his slender fingers abandoning the keys and causing my ears to reach out for more like beggars crying for food to sustain their weak and deprived bodies. Erik turned on the bench and faced the door, the white mask that covered the right portion of his face glowing strangely in the illusion, "Be there in a minute." He looked down at the child in his arms, his daughter. He put his hands under her arms and turned her to face him, a broad and proud smile beaming off of his face, "After lunch I'll teach you the first song your mother had sung onstage."
That song. My song.
I let out an involuntary sob and covered my face, no longer able to bear the pain.
Loki waved his hand and the image faded, the vertical circle of magic still there but dormant, "Tell me, Alouette, would you like to play a game?"
I pushed against him, his hold on me finally loosening but not setting me free, "Only you win in your games, Loki!"
He chuckled behind me, his face calm and his eyes still twinkling with sick amusement and mischief, "So is that a no?"
I pushed against his chest, hitting him with my elbows and shoving with my body, "Yes!"
He raised his eyebrows, his half hooded eyes lighting up with fake delight, "A yes? Magnificent."
Before I could escape his viper hold the magical window began to change again, the picture forming into a familiar rooftop. With a shove I stumbled forward, tripping over my own feet and tumbling into portal in front of me.
As I fell into the never ending blackness, I heard the echo of Loki's voice in the abyss, "If you push any man hard enough they can fall right back into the abyss from which they came."