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Chapter Text

This wasn't the first time he found himself gazing at her in awe. Nor was it the first time he had admired her beauty from afar. He didn't take pride in watching her, rather he wished he didn't. But she was captivating, and every memory he had of her was marvelous.

Her dark ebony skin glowed against the warm sun as her lustrous, thick curls trailed down her elegant form. He smiled at her boldness, few Asgardian women would choose to wear their hair down, especially in such heat. The sandstone-colored fabric of her dress flowed perfectly over her curves. The golden armor intertwined through the fabric across her chest and shoulders. He closed his eyes, sighing and memorizing the dark, golden-brown hue of her bright eyes. 

He'd known her for some time now. Constantly aware of her occupation and her status despite the title she'd earned. She was a maiden, a student of his mother's, her very best student. She had risen out of poverty and misfortune to be highly valued by the royal family for her particular skill set as a counsel. 

Yet every time he spoke to her outside of privacy, he was reminded she was not a noblewoman. That he should only treat her as a servant. He was aware she would never be his equal, and their friendship must be quietly kept. But she was worth it, he always knew she was worth it. 

"Loki! I was wondering where you'd gone!" Thor interrupted his thought, marching toward him through the library's door. One of his large hands clapped down on Loki's back as he grinned at him. Loki sighed at his volume but placed his book down. 

"How can I help you, brother?" Loki asked, glaring up at the large, brute-like, blond man. The only docile part of him was his mother's kind, blue eyes. 

"Our friends are gathered in the courtyard, will you not come to practice?" Thor beamed at him. Loki glanced once more out of the library window, but she was gone, taken away with his mother. 

"Yes, of course," he managed a smile and followed his brother out to the warrior's courtyard. 

Loki stood by the weapons as Thor placed down his hammer and began to spar with Fandral. The sun felt warm on his skin, and he gazed up to towers above. His father's ravens cawed overhead. He heard a laugh from behind, his mother's affectionate laugh. He turned to see her, smiling as always at the guests in the castle. Her golden-blonde hair rippled gracefully around her shoulders and over her modest blue, armored dress. "Mother," he beamed brightly at her as she greeted him. And behind his mother, his gaze settled upon her. "Lady Ingrid," he sighed just slightly, taking in her radiant appearance.

"Prince Loki," she bowed. His mother was easily diverted by Thor who greeted her as well, if not brashly. "How are you, your highness?" Ingrid asked with kind eyes. 

"Very well my dear, and you?"

"Very well, the Queen has requested my assistance for some matters," he nodded at her. He knew his mother appreciated her as much as he did.

"It's my understanding she comes to you quite frequently for counsel, I think she's wise to do so," he watched her blush softly as his praise. "I wish to see you soon for my counsel," he said, brushing her hand gently with his own. 

"Of course my Prince," she said with her all-knowing tone. 

He waited for her in his chamber that night, filled with the same anxious anticipation he felt every night awaiting her company. Company seemed an odd way to put it. Counsel would be a wiser choice he advised himself. 

He heard a soft knock upon his door. It was unmistakably her. "Come in," he called. She entered with grace, bowing, and greeting him with respect. Her delicate hands clasped in front of her.

"How may I be of service, my Prince?" she asked boldly. This room was familiar to her, the emerald green drapes and golden decor. It was regal, but precious in the personal effects it held. In such an intimate setting, Ingrid felt an increased pressure for formality, which Loki did not share. 

"An ease of conscience my dear," he smiled at her, leading her to the bedroom. It was not his first time requesting her service, nor his first time being her patient. She nodded quietly. She waited for him to lie on the bed before proceeding to him. She sat next to him cautiously on the green, silk bedding. Her feet almost hovering above the floor. 

"Whenever you're ready," she said softly. His eyes slowly closed as he forced himself to relax. 

"I'm ready," he replied, preparing himself. He felt her warm fingertips upon his face, moving across his temples. The room around him became distant and his body lighter. He felt her enter slowly, easing her way into his mind. He was always impressed with her gentleness, to many she would undetectable. 

When she was settled and he relaxed enough, she began to slowly tug at the memories, the intuitions, and emotions that crowded his head. Never did she paw at anything he didn't wish her to. She was always conscious of his boundaries. The events of the previous days and weeks began to play like a vision before his eyes. Each restless feeling they provoked she eased. A subtle release of them into the placid air around them. 

By the time she was finished, his body was exhausted but completely pacified. His mind was clear of any burdens or weights. This routine had become common and natural to both of them. He felt safe and cared for in her presence. Though he hoped she felt the same he was painfully aware of the division between their positions. He knew she would never consider herself more than a counsel to him. She was far too disciplined. Therefore, the things he kept from her, often contained her. His soft thoughts for her, mingled with much too sensitive emotions in regards to his father and brother, his total responsibility as Prince, and his possible destiny as King. The deeper truths he hid from her, he knew he must.

Odin's war counsel was almost always in session in one way or another. The nine realms were rarely ever silent or serene. Alliances, treaties, and armies were constantly formed against outside forces. These discussions were one of the rare times the Princes were equal to their father. The Allfather considered them members of his advisors, but the discussions were certainly tests and trials of their capabilities. 

Loki often succeeded in useful insight and proceeded his brother in war-tactic. However, he was rarely as outspoken. The intensity of the room stirred a rage in him, a strong distaste for both his father and his brother. The stupidity and the ignorance drained him entirely, yet sharpened his mind and hunger for violence. He remained his composure, it was necessary he reminded himself. 

He watched his father and his brother stalk the room aimlessly with such insensible hatred, both of them absorbed in the matter at hand. The grand, intimidating room gleamed around them. The maps of each realm lit with magic across the walls and center table. The advisors blatantly submissive to anything either one of them said. Loki found it amusing at times, the older, scholarly-robed men bullied and subdued. He was grateful when the meetings were over, and the acute hostility released from the air and himself. 

It was always Thor and Loki who was dismissed last from their father's counsel. The walls and table reduced to their usual dark demeanor. Loki watched his father closely, feeling as though he was doing the same. Odin's faded blue eyes were intent on his every move throughout the meeting. "Thor there's been another attack on Anaheim, I would ask you and the Warriors Three to go and see to it," Odin ordered him. With a swift nod, Thor left the two men alone in the war room. "Loki," Odin began, "I heard your sorcery skills have been unmatched as of late. Your mother is very impressed," he smiled just briefly at his second son. 

"Thank you, Father," Loki replied, pleased with himself.

"I would ask you to assist me in an alliance with Vanir. They require further defensive measures," 

"Of course Father,". Just then there was a knock upon the thick door, resounding through the room. 

"Allfather, the Seer is here," one of the guards said. Loki glanced to the door, noticing the sliver of white fabric that grazed the floor next to where he stood. 

"Loki you are dismissed," Odin said. "Bring her in!" he yelled to the guard. Loki began to take his leave through the north door, but he peered behind if only for a second to catch a glimpse of her. The faintest bit of her seemed familiar but he couldn't tell. Seers, especially Oracles were highly prizes by Asgardian Kings, they came from all the nine realms, but never in Loki's life had he heard of a female seer. 

He walked through the Great Halls of Asgard, using his magic to shift his appearance and removing much of his armor. From the height of the Palace, he could see across the city, near the shore a tower climbed the horizon. His mother's academy for the most magically gifted. He had been her student. Surely she would know who the new seer was.

That night Loki approached his mother in the wide, open halls of the Palace. "A new Seer?" his mother looked at him puzzled. "I don't believe so my son," she shook her head, and he nodded trying to picture the vague image of the girl he saw in his father's war room. The white fabric, the strong frame, and the soft step... "Is Ingrid not with you tonight?" he asked, realizing he hadn't seen her in his mother's counsel for some time. 

"She is unwell recently, poor girl," Frigga replied, looking out over the city. He narrowed his eyes slightly at his mother's tense expression and followed her gaze over the city. Only a few days had passed since he'd requested her service. Though he saw her occasionally strolling the halls with his mother, he had kept his distance, as that was what was expected. He knew he would have to wait for another excuse to request her presence. He missed her touch. He missed her voice. Her smile and her laugh. He sighed, glancing up at the golden statues of his ancestors.  

"Loki?" Frigga asked softly, a hand placed on his shoulder.

"Yes, Mother?" He turned to face her. A delicate, warm smile glittered on her fine lips. 

"Come," she gestured, he followed her through the golden halls. "There's something I'd like to discuss with you," she said, glancing softly at him. 

"Which is?" He easily returned her look of mischief. She remained silent, guiding him forward. She led him to her tower, the rooms reserved for her practice and use only. They entered one of her many enchantment rooms, the walls lined with books and relics of magical property. Loki watched her shift, almost nervously around the room in the fading evening light. Until finally, she turned to him with a subtle determination.  

"Your father and I have decided you're ready," she said. 

"For what?" he asked, growing slightly impatient of her games. 

"A wife," she replied bluntly. His gaze snapped to hers almost immediately. His lips parted slightly, but no response came. 

"A wife?" he repeated, turning the thought over in his mind. He began to shake his head. "Mother I can't"

"Loki," she said steadily. "There is no reason why you can't," 

"Yes, there is!" he snapped, breathing heavily. A haunting, desperate fear filled him. He strode closer to her, firm in his demeanor. "Yes there is," he tried to regain a respectful attitude toward her. 

"And what is that?" she asked, searching him for an answer. He denied her. Never had he ever attempted to conceal anything from her, but he simply couldn't allow this. 

"I wish to never hear another word about this!"

Ingrid walked the quiet streets of the city. The tall, bright building loomed overhead, like beacons in the sky. She enjoyed evenings like this, walking from the Queen Mother's academy to her own home at the edge of the city. She felt better after her recovery at the academy. Her mind becoming clearer and her body stronger. She could see the rainbow glowing Bifrost easily from here, the galaxy glittering from above mingled with the rainbow lights. The smell of the sea surrounded her effortlessly. 

Ingrid didn't live with the other Palace servants, nor did she live within the Academy any longer. She had earned her residence, gifted to her by the royal family for her impressive effort and servitude. Especially now that she was engaged in counsel with the Allfather. 

She sighed as she entered the small building. The door sealed behind her and she shed her dark cloak, pouring herself a drink in the main room. The view was stunning from the open terrace, the sea, and the universe for as far as she could see. The small things she could see. Past and future events at a glance. She knew why Odin had ordered her to live at the edge of the city. To be closer to the stars, to be the first line of defense like her grandfather before her.

She was proud to be Queen Frigga's student, even prouder to be one of her closest counsels. She began serving the family as a young maiden, as she still was now. She had been taught by Frigga since she was quite young. But she had shown promising talents even then. Many of her former friends and peers had moved on, grown into classes of nobility through marriage and talent. And she was so close to that fruitful age. Perhaps eventually, she could even admit to herself she had blossomed beautifully into a worthy wife. Her service in the Palace was coming to an end in a few months. Her sentence of servitude complete after all these years. She would be expected to marry soon. 

She set the glass down shakily. She knew with her position, that perfect life was far from obtainable. But she could be content, she told herself. She would have to be, she had no reason to be ungrateful. Or selfish. Indentured servitude was a pretty price for the fortunate events of her life. 

She breathed deeply. She had come from nothing, to be one of the most valued counsels of the royal family she told herself. It's my understanding she comes to you quite frequently for counsel, I think she's wise to do so. His words wandered in her mind, she allowed herself to smile at his memory. I wish to see you soon for my own counsel. She felt herself blush. His counsel was one she also enjoyed. She came to him when he needed her, to calm him, steady him. And he trusted her to do so. It was perhaps one of her most treasured responsibilities. 

Loki was a suitable friend, quiet and intelligent. He was gentle in ways his brother was not, in ways most men were not. Of course, he had his faults, but she found grace in them. She helped him with them. He wasn't broad or brash, but firm and concise. He made her smile and laugh easily. 

Ingrid was aware of his likeness to her, how he preferred her over most of the other counsels for her skills. She knew she shouldn't blush, should never think of him in such an intimate way. There were seas of difference between them, seas that couldn't be crossed. By herself especially, she'd worked so hard to be where she was. It would be unfathomable to jeopardize herself now. 

Slowly she retired to her chamber down the narrow hallway, trying desperately to remove him from her mind. She closed the door of her chamber and stood suddenly stunned by the sight in front of her. "My Prince," she breathed. He stood in front of her in the evening light, composed and elegant. "How may I help you?" she recovered quickly.  

"No, none of that," he said, and she stepped back unsure of how to proceed. He watched her intently if only to study her. Delicately dressed in fine silks, barefoot and unarmored. He was able to notice how slightly wider her hips were than her shoulders. How her eyes kindled when she was intrigued. 

"My Prin-"

"Loki, my dear," he told her firmly. Very rarely did they have moments like this. Only once or twice in his counsel had he spoken to her like this. Never had he stood in her company, in her residence. 

"Loki..." she repeated his name softly. "How can I..." she paused unsure of how to ask the question. "Why..." she shook her head, frozen where she stood. She started to smile, openly perplexed and amused. Still, he watched her, stepping forward so his face was in the light. Her smile fell immediately. The deep creases of his face were evidence enough. "What do you need?" She took a deep breath, concern overtaking her manner.

She knew him too well. He could almost laugh because of it. "I wanted to see you," he admitted quietly. The anxiety and rage of the previous night and his mother's words still filled him. He had been certain that he needed to see her. Cautiously, he saw her confidence return. She walked to him slowly, until they were inches apart. 

Her hand raised gently to his face and he felt her presence in his mind. Quickly he gripped her wrist. "No,". Her face twisted with confusion. "Not that," he sighed and raised her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. 

"Loki what happened?" she asked, easing into the amity of the situation. She let the formal barriers fall, allowing her hands to rest kindly on his shoulder. He towered over her easily. Lithe as he was, he wasn't lacking in strength. She couldn't deny the safety she felt, which startled her more considering the situation. Nor could she deny that this wasn't service. This wasn't counsel or formality. It wasn't a place she ever wanted to leave. But it was never a place she ever expected to be. 

"Nothing my dear, nothing," he pulled her closer to him, vanishing his armor and leaving himself vulnerable to her. Simply her closeness, her head over his heart was enough to calm him. He sighed into her as her hands brushed over the skin of his neck into his soft black hair. "Thank you" he whispered into her supple curls as he held her. 

Her palms came to rest on either side of his face. "Of course," she smiled at him. She gasped slightly as he gently kissed her forehead.

Chapter Text

The Queen Mother's academy always granted Ingrid a sense of relief. It was where she'd grown and learned. When she was a child, she remembered running these halls with the other young girls. The light blue hues and open windows in every library, classroom, and corridor. The high domed ceilings and walls lined with books were a familiar comfort. From the classroom windows, she could see the marble courtyard and floral garden where the students continued their magical practice. 

Once a week, Ingrid was allowed a reprieve from the duties of the Palace to teach in the same classrooms where she'd been taught. Teaching was a responsibility for many of the elder students. Once the summer ended, only a month after coming-of-age ceremony, they'd be free to marry and begin their lives outside the academy.

Some of the elder students had never left the academy. Others were born into nobility and treated the academy simply as a prestigious education. Few such as Ingrid were forced to pay servitude to the royal family in exchange. For that reason, she'd never grown close to many of the others. Throughout the years the importance of friendship had diminished in comparison to her duties. 

"Ingrid!" she turned from the window as several of her peers greeted her. "Will you come to the Banquet tonight? For Midsummers?" Sigyn asked. 

"Isn't the Eve tomorrow?" Ingrid asked, puzzled by her excitement. Sigyn was a kind, humble girl of high nobility, but she was rarely clever. 

"Yes, but the celebration is all week!" she pleaded, her golden-blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders. "Please come!" 

"Alright," Ingrid sighed, glancing toward the settling sun. "But I-" she couldn't finish her sentence before Sigyn grabbed her by the hand and pulled along with the rest of the girls. Ingrid struggled to keep up with her feverish pace, running to catch up to a larger group in front of them. 

Ingrid walked slowly behind them, gazing up at the buildings illuminated by the sunset. The Midsummer celebration was the brightest time of year. One of the most celebrated holidays. Lanterns and candles were lit in every doorway and window. The sky above them refused to turn black. The galaxies glowing vibrant purple and green. 

They approached one of many city squares. The trees lit with lights, drums and woodwinds played pleasantly as couples danced to their tune. Within moments, her peers dispersed into the crowd and she stood cautiously on the edge of the gathering, eyes wide as she glanced around. She could see inside one of the buildings nearby, where drinks were served and the gathering continued. Couples and friends came and went through its open door. 

Slowly, Ingrid moved around the edge of the crowd. She slipped carefully through the doorway and moved along the edge of the room. The main room was warmly lit with candles and lanterns. The fine, wooden furnishings and floor gleamed under the light. Laughter boldly erupted from the center of the space. Small glasses and liquor bottles littered the floor around two men at the table, most of the others clustered around them. 

She watched as the two men were removed from the table. One carried and the other loosely dragged. The sweet smell of alcohol enticed her forward. "Wanna try?" a woman next to her asked. Ingrid jumped,  spinning to face a pretty, red-hair noblewoman dressed in expensive silks and jewelry. 

"The drinking game?" Ingrid asked, and the woman merely smirked. Ingrid watched as she took one of the seats at the table, nodding for her to take the one across from her. Tentatively, Ingrid sat down. A man poured them two small glasses of amber liquid and murmurs began to spread throughout the room. 

The woman raised her glass and drained its contents. Ingrid glanced down at her glass, slowly picking it up and emptying it at once. She exhaled heavily, the liquid burning down her throat. Two new glasses were poured and the women drank again. Ingrid suppressed a laugh, feeling the alcohol ignite blatant confidence in her. She matched the mischievous smirk of the red-haired woman. "What's your name?" she asked bravely. 

"Lorelei," the woman replied. 

Toward the twelfth round, Ingrid had fully lost her censorship. Her emotions felt sharpened to a painful point, even as the world around her dulled. She watched Lorelei struggle with her glass, barely able to drink it. As the thirteenth round was poured, Ingrid didn't hesitant. She drowned her own before taking the glass from Lorelei's shaky grasp and finishing it as well. 

When Ingrid woke the next morning, the only clear thing she remembered was how drunk she was. She blinked, groaning as the sunlight grazed her face. The pain ate at her body. Not only was she nauseous, but deeply sore. Her thighs and hips ached as she tried to sit up. "Darling," a voice sighed next to her. 

Ingrid stiffened as a soft hand brushed her bareback. She turned to see the red-haired woman, naked in her bed. She gasped, realizing what happened. She narrowed her eyes, noticing the marble flooring and striking silver furniture. The room itself was bathed in more sunlight than her bedroom would ever allow with the wide windows and velvet drapes.

"What time is it?" Ingrid cried, struggling to stand without vomiting.

"Hmm, late morning by now," the woman hummed, easing back into the bed. "Where are you going?" she asked, watching Ingrid shuffle around the large room in search of suitable clothing. 

"The Palace," Ingrid whined, pulling her modest green dress from the floor. Her eyes widened, glancing down at the fine silks and jewelry that covered the bedroom floor.  

"Why?" the woman asked. Ingrid was reluctant, ultimately refusing to answer as she dressed quickly. The woman rose from the bed, collecting her clothes. 

"I'm sorry," Ingrid sighed, glancing back at the gorgeous, red-haired woman. She couldn't have been more disgusted with herself as she dressed. Lorelei, she remembered. Her chest swelled with overwhelming regret. But she forced herself to grab her cloak and leave before the woman could say anything more. 

Ingrid rushed to the Palace through the celebrating streets. She sprinted past the guards, and toward the servant's entrance. She walked in carefully into the dark servant's corridor. She prayed the head maid was at her station, but as she hurried down the hall, she knew she was mistaken. "Ingrid!" the raging woman called.

"Mistress Ast-" Ingrid yelped as she grabbed her arm and began to drag her to the servant's chamber. 

"You! Where have you been?!" the older woman demanded. Ingrid bowed her head. "What are you dressed in!" she gestured toward Ingrid's wrinkled and alcohol-smelling dress. "What is that?!" she pressed down on the bruise on Ingrid's neck. Ingrid jumped back, surprised by the taunt pain that rippled through her skin. She covered her neck instantly, holding herself tightly around her waist.

Suddenly the woman before her quieted, studying her intently. "Ingrid," she began again. "I don't need to remind you, especially you... as an unmarried maiden without nobility, without protection... you cannot afford to jeopardize your position, you simply can't" her hands rested on Ingrid's shoulders gently. 

"I... I know," Ingrid sighed. "I'm sorry," she glanced up at her kind face. 

"Have you eaten anything? Last night or this morning?" the head maid asked. Ingrid shook her head as she sighed. "Alright, there's some left from the King's Midsummer Banquet last night. Help yourself," the head maiden moved to one of the cupboards "After that, wash up and change please," she handed her a simple, white dress. "And good luck at the ceremony tomorrow," she smiled. 

"Thank you, Mistress," Ingrid bowed slightly, taking her leave. She walked quickly, dress in hand to the Banquet Hall. She opened and closed the large, grand doors quietly. Once she saw she was alone, she moved swiftly to the long table in the center of the room covered by golden trays and bowls. She smiled, finding some fruit and wild boar. She set her white dress down. Happily and ungracefully she lifted the meat to her lips. She licked her fingers and wiped the rest on her worn dress. She glanced down, her eyes resting upon a glimmer of light. An armlet appeared in front of her on the table with a soft green shimmer of light. She touched it hesitantly, slowly picking it up. It was an exquisite piece, molded from gold, beginning and ending with two emerald-eyed snakeheads. 

She gave a small shriek as it came to life, wrapping itself around her arm. Ingrid jumped back panting as she watched the snakes disappear with a green shimmer. "Forgive me, my dear," an amused voice said. Ingrid snapped to stare at the man toward the end of the table, her eyes widening. "I never could resist a trick," Loki smiled at her. 

He'd first seen her that morning running to the Palace and he could tell she was frantic. Then he saw her through the cracked door, standing innocently at the Banquet table, relaxed and informal. Unkempt as she was, she was still beautiful. If not more so in this unrefined, undisciplined state. He could see her face clearly, untouched by cosmetics with her gorgeous, untamed hair and delicate, warm skin. However, he knew in his presence, she wouldn't allow herself to remain informal for long. 

"My Prince, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't be here I uh," Ingrid grabbed her white dress from the table, clutching it against her. She was at a loss of what to say. Certainly, she couldn't tell him why she was there. She was mortified to even be seen by him like this. "If um, if you'll excuse me please, I'm not uh, I'm not," she stuttered, searching for the proper words. Her fear deepened as she felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She remembered the last time she'd been with him... when he held her. When she held him... She clenched her jaw, praying she wouldn't embarrass herself further.  

He studied her carefully, heeding her acute unease. "Of course," he nodded, watching her blush intensify. He smirked slightly "I expect to see you later today my dear," she bowed as he turned to leave. And once he did, she allowed herself to breathe.

Ingrid finished her duties very late that night as punishment for her tardiness. She returned to the servant's chamber to retrieve her cloak, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She wasn't surprised to find the other servant girls preparing for bed. 

"Lady Ingrid!" one of them greeted. "You must tell her I'm right!" she demanded.

Ingrid looked at her with curiosity. "And what are you right about?" she asked kindly. 

"You know..." she pleaded, slowly lowering her voice. "About Prince Loki..." 

"What about him?" Ingrid asked, slightly alarmed. 

"How good he is in bed," the other girl bluntly stated. Ingrid snapped to met the girl's gaze, her eyes hardened and mouth  open. Both girls drew back from her cautiously. "You do know, don't you?" 

"Why would I ever know that?" Ingrid spoke softly, her voice hardening. 

"That... that is your service to him... yes?" 

"Absolutely not!" she snapped at her. The girl's eyes fell to the floor. "Why would you ever wish to know something like that?!" she demanded. 

"It's said that Loki demands your presence at night..." the other girl said, hesitantly meeting Ingrid's raging gaze. "To be comforted and pleased,"

Pleased? she thought. Never before had it occurred to her what others may perceive her counsel to be to him. Is that what they thought of her? Loki's whore? Dressed in green rags, reeking of alcohol, and bruised as she was this morning... it wasn't an illogical suspicion. That cracked her pride most of all. 

"Are you alright my Lady?" one of the girls asked. 

"Perfectly fine," Ingrid tried to smile, turning to leave. The city streets were cold, it numbed her bare hands and a cool breeze threatened to lower her cloak hood. She walked mindlessly, thinking about their words. Thinking about him. Their encounter that morning, and the night before. She knew better than to allow herself to entertain any feelings of sentiment or affection. She believed she walked that line well, but the past week had tested that belief harshly. Was it just something he needed and she was the one he could trust? Much of her other counsel wasn't much different, only it was never as intimate. Loki and Odin fought, yes, but could it have caused that? What could have happened that threw him that far over the edge? 

Even if they were close friends, she couldn't allow herself to feel that way. Especially for him, it wasn't her place. She closed her eyes as a stinging sadness filled her. She reminded herself, it would never be her place.

The Midsummer celebration was one of the most anticipated in Asgard. Every citizen gathered in the Hall of Asgard. Lights were carried by the children, and many wore yellow, orange, or even red colors. Music was heard in every direction as the crowd shouted "Defeat of the Prophecy!". The age-old reason for the celebration, the defeat of Surtur to prevent Ragnarok: The Death of the Gods. 

"Girls! There you are!" Queen Frigga greeted the elder students above the crowds. "Are you all ready?" she asked.

Ingrid and several others nodded. Their elegant yellow dresses flowed gracefully over them, each of them with their long hair braided into crowns and the rest fell over their shoulders. Ingrid shifted her weight nervously, her bare feet were freezing against the golden floor. Cold, golden jewelry glittered over their collarbones, upper arms, and ankles. Ingrid looked out across the crowd, knowing their coming-of-age ceremony was about to begin.

They were ushered into the crowd, escorted by guards to the front where they waited for the ceremony to begin. The guards formed two lines, leading to the grand throne at the end of the hall. Ingrid gazed at it in awe, amazed by its size and regality. "Look!" Sigyn tugged at her, and the rest of the hall became silent. 

The Allfather entered the room, taking his place at the King's throne. Each citizen bowing to him as he passed. Frigga followed soon after, the crowd roared with praise for her as she approached her husband. "The Princes are next!" one of the girls whispered behind them. They waited eagerly for a glimpse. 

The crowd cheered to a deafening level as Thor entered, hammer in hand, parading down the hall. Ingrid smiled and clapped as the eldest Prince marched by. A part of her swelled with excitement, knowing who would be next. The crowd barely quieted as Loki entered the hall. She was always surprised to see him in full armor with his cape and horns. It was such a stark contrast to the more reserved man she knew. She beamed and cheered for him along with the crowd, admiring the royal family in their places at the King's throne. Glancing at her peers next to her, she paused slightly realizing the bright blush that had possessed Sigyn as she gazed starry-eyed at Prince Loki. Ingrid reminded herself that the Princes were not a rare sight for her as it was for the others. She knew the royal family's faults, though they were gods, they were not perfect creatures to her. 

Odin stood, the sound of his staff resounding through the hall silenced the mass of people. "My people of Asgard... we are gathered this day, this year as every year to celebrate the defeat of the Prophecy!" he declared, the hall rang with praise. "On the brightest day of the year, we celebrate our fortune, our victory, our people as we still stand..." he raised his staff, beckoning the guards forward with the Eternal Flame. The crowd gasping in awe. Ingrid's eyes widened as she gazed into its powerful blaze. "We honor the Eternal Flame for its power, for its protection, for its mercy upon our people" 

Frigga stepped forward, her arms open to the flame. Her elder students slowly approached, circling the flame. They held their hands out, allowing the magic to guide them. The flame ignited in their palms. As Frigga began the incantation, the ceremony began. 

The girls spun and twirled harmoniously. The fire moving throughout their hands and across the space that connected them. Ingrid felt the flame and its ancient power circulate through her body. She felt her feet leave the floor and the girls began to pivot through the air. The flame illuminating the hall in vibrant, raw light. The crowd was mesmerized by the sight. 

As the incantation and dance ended, the girls returned to the floor glowing with beauty and honor. They bowed to their King, as proud women of Asgard.  

After the ceremony, the evening turned to a bright night. The stars were boldly pronounced. Ingrid strolled casually through the festive celebrations. She smiled at the children, the mothers, and families, gazing up at the sky and each other in love and astonishment. 

She held a sweet drink in her hand, savoring its calming effect. She sat down at one of many long tables, gazing up at the Palace in the distance. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment. All her peers, now noblewomen in their coming-of-age, danced leisurely in the halls of the palace, she danced in the streets as a woman of servitude. 

She turned her attention to the crowd around her, laughing and dancing. A man caught her eye. There was something absurdly familiar about him, but she could've sworn she'd never seen him before. She smiled at the handsome man, before looking down at her drink. She felt him draw closer, she could make out his light brown hair and marvelous blue eyes. He held his hand out to her and politely asked "Would you like to dance?". 

She accepted, if only for the desire to know more about him. She'd heard that tone a thousand times before. She eyed him curiously as they began to dance among the other couples of the crowd. He took her hand delicately in his, the other resting lightly upon her waist. She rested her hand tenderly upon his shoulder and smiled reassuringly as they moved throughout the sequence. Through the turns and spins, she watched his eyes follow her intently. As they met for the final moments, she met his intense gaze, slightly startled by the intimacy. "I'm sorry," she laughed slightly, "but do I know you?" she asked as the dance ended.

"I think you do my dear," the man said and she searched his face for a hint of the man she just heard. He smiled, swaying with her softly as the next dance began. She wanted to ask his name, to say his name. But what if she was wrong... She caught just a glimpse of mischief in his eyes, she was almost certain. 

"Prince Loki?" she asked so softly he barely heard it. 

He smiled widely at her. "Just Loki, my dear," he corrected her, smirking as she blushed. He had looked for her at the Palace's celebration, but here she was among the servants. 

"Why aren't you at the Palace? Why are you here?" he watched her grow more timid as she spoke. 

"Because I wanted to be," he replied. "You were so beautiful during the ceremony," he said without thought. She glanced at him with slight alarm. 

"Thank you," she eased further into the embrace cautiously. It was similar to the last time he held her. Though she knew not to give in to false hope, she reminded herself that he had sought her out. Surely, friends were allowed to be friends.

"I did wonder though... why weren't you at the Palace tonight?" Loki asked as he walked her home. 

"I am a servant in the Palace. Servants do not dine with nobility," she answered plainly. 

"You are a lady," he replied in a firm voice. Ingrid glanced at Loki with reluctance. 

"I have a title," she sighed softly, avoiding his gaze. She felt his eyes on her, and she tried to focus on the soft sound of the distant waves. 

As they approached her front door, he noticed how she fell silent. He moved closer to her, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. As disciplined as she was, he knew this kind of closeness made her anxious. As he broke down the walls of formality that separated them, he watched her shyness and boldness conflict. Even in these situations, out of the Palace, outside of expectation, she was rigid in her behavior. "Ingrid," he said gently.

"Yes Loki?" she asked, glancing back to his false appearance of the chestnut brown hair, and glittering blue eyes. The secrecy of his identity allowed her to be more at ease in his company, but her eyes dimmed as she gazed at him. His illusion a regretful reminder of their friendship's conditions. 

"I enjoyed tonight, with you," he told her. She noticed how close he was to her. 

"I enjoyed it as well," she smiled softly, remembering their dance. 

"I wanted to give you something," his hand fell from her, taking a gold chain out of his coat. Her eyes widened as she recognized the emerald-eyed snakeheads. 

"What? Loki I-" she started.

"Just wait," he silenced her, holding the chain up to her upper arm. She yelped as the chain came to life, wrapping itself around her arm. His arm instinctively reached out as she jumped and his hands rested on her waist as she calmed. She gazed at it in awe and admiration for the magic. 

 "It's beautiful," she smiled, touching the smooth metal gently. He watched her expression, her grateful eyes glazing over the jewelry. A symbol of her growth, of her rise as a woman. If he was being honest, she'd been a woman for far longer. 

"You deserve it, my dear," She realized the way he was looking at her. It was so intimate and she knew it shouldn't be there. She never wanted that tender look in his eyes to leave. The place she had found herself, in his arms, in his thoughts, was such a kind place to be. As she placed a soft palm against his face, she gasped as his false features began to fade. Replaced by his natural raven-black hair and bright green eyes in shimmer of green light. He kissed her forehead gently as a hand reached to rest against her cheek, and she blushed profoundly.

"Thank you, Loki," she beamed at him, kissing his cheek softly.

Chapter Text

I've only wanted you

Chapter Text

Ingrid heard her heart pound in her ears as she walked the golden halls of the Palace to Odin's war room. Guards marched behind her, the only thing missing were chains. She knew what he wanted. What he always wanted. She didn't know what she would tell him. Could she tell him? Her hands shook by her side as she remembered.  Trust my rage.  She shuddered at the memory. The man she saw, consumed by rage, how could he be Loki? But was it too hard to believe? If everything she saw was true...

As she stepped into the room, the intense atmosphere overwhelmed her. She realized --like their previous counsels-- she and Odin were almost completely alone. The guards stood by the door and two stood by her side, but they seemed more like statues. They wouldn't help her, only watch. She never had the choice of coming or leaving. 

"My King," she greeted him meekly. Odin stood in front of her, his staff in hand. 

"Lady Ingrid," he began. "I've been informed that you experienced a vision. Tell me what you saw," he demanded. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. "Tell me, child," he stepped closer to her. 

"No," she breathed heavily, like a storm's wind blew through her. He raised his staff, bringing the tip close to the column of her neck. 

"We have other methods if you won't speak," he glared at her. "Kneel," he ordered and the guards pushed Ingrid down to her knees. Ingrid's wide eyes darted up to him, recognizing that tone, and that command. "Hold her," she felt her arms forced behind her back. 

"No!" she cried as he reached toward her, the palm of his hand connecting her forehead. Instantly, she felt invaded. Her head splitting apart as Odin searched her mind. She screamed as he found it, ripping the vision open. Images of Loki flicked before her eyes, blinding her in white light. So many voices filled her head. Too many possible scenes of his future. 

I am burdened... with glorious purpose...

We all have our reasons...

Kneel ...  My King...

Trust my rage... my dear...

Do you still...

"Enough!" she shrieked, throwing him out. She choked, barely holding herself from lying on the cold floor. She whimpered as she felt Odin's blade at the base of her neck. 

"How?!" he bellowed. 

"I don't know!" she screamed. 

"Answer me girl!" she felt the blade press down harder into her fragile skin. Her throbbing forehead was pressed to the cold marble floor. She felt a sharp sting and a cool sensation began to crawl down her neck, dampening her dress. 

"Odin!" Ingrid heard someone cry into the room. She gasped as the blade lifted slowly from her huddled form. In moments Frigga was on her knees next to Ingrid, holding her firmly. "Stop this!" Frigga looked at him, in shock and anger. "She is a child! Do not make yourself a monster!". 

Frigga helped Ingrid back to the Healer's room, demanding they be felt alone. "Ingrid... Ingrid, look at me!" Frigga gripped her shoulders, sitting her down on the healer's table and kneeling in front of her. "Look at me Ingrid!" she placed a soft hand to her face. Ingrid sobbed, bent over herself on the firm slab of rock. Frigga pushed her long braided hair away, pressing a soft damp cloth to angry cut along her neck. The blood continued to pool from it, staining the cloth a grim crimson color. 

Slowly with Frigga's assistance, she quieted, gazing at her Queen in the utmost gratitude. "Tha- Thank... thank you," she stuttered repeatedly. Frigga shushed her, holding her tightly in a motherly embrace as she cleaned the cut. Her eyes carefully wandered over the girl's body, searching for any other injuries. 

"Ingrid, look at me child," she said softly, bringing Ingrid's gaze up to meet hers. "I won't let him hurt you. Do you understand?" Frigga asked firmly. Ingrid nodded hesitantly, still crying in intense waves. "He has no right,". 

"He's the King!" Ingrid cried. 

"He has no right to execute you without a fair trial," Frigga lamented, holding her head against her. For many years, Frigga had cared for Ingrid as though she was her daughter. Ingrid had no mother of her own, no guardians of any to speak of. 

She was found as an orphan on the streets of Asgard. Frigga remembered the first time she met the small girl. Barely covered in rags, filthy, and afraid. Even then she showed a strong aptitude for magic and prophecy. She had grown in maturity, ability, and age into the gorgeous and brave maiden she held, but Ingrid was growing out of her protection. And Frigga knew what Odin planned for her. 

"My Queen..." Ingrid eventually spoke. Her body steadying and voice calmer. 

"Yes," 

"What happened to the last Oracle?" she asked. 

"He shared his visions with those other than the Allfather," Frigga exhaled, her jaw almost locking in place. "He was executed for treason,". 

Frigga stayed at her bedside well into the night. The young woman was mostly silent next to her. Her sleep was erratically filled with incoherent groaning and constant movement. Very little of Frigga's magic seemed to help. Even at her weakest, Ingrid was powerful. She had sealed herself off, locked in whatever was inside. 

Each time Ingrid woke she was comforted by Frigga's reassuring presence. From the hard table, she could see the stars and galaxy glittering outside the window. She watched them shimmer and gleam throughout the blackness. More than anything she wished she could be there, shining with the stars. Safe and untouchable. 

She ached horribly in every muscle of her body. But she felt more than just physical pain. The voices lingered in her mind, violent, torturous images filled her. His voice was louder than any other. Ingrid closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. She felt her jaw clench, and tears swelled in her eyes. She'd protected him, even after he disregarded her, even after what she saw, and was nearly killed because of it. The things she'd seen... the things he was... or was to become. 

"What will happen?" she asked suddenly. Her voice was roughly broken, like the man in the visions, and her mind equally fragmented. Frigga looked down at her, studying her closely. 

"I don't know," Frigga sighed honestly, tucking Ingrid's hair behind her ear. "Your servitude will be ending soon. He won't be able to touch you so easily after that," she thought but sighed knowing Odin may overlook that fact. 

"I'll have to leave," Ingrid whispered to her, sitting up to face her. Frigga wished it wasn't so, but she was right. Frigga took her hand in hers, holding it tightly. 

"You will be alright," she promised her. "Somewhere, somehow,". 

"Mother," Loki asked as evening began to set in over the city. The corridors were silent; many of the guests had retired and the servants returned to their quarters. Just he and Frigga sat comfortably in her enchantment room. 

"Yes, Loki," Frigga answered, looking up to him from her magic. 

"Where is Ingrid?" he was surprised to not find her with his mother as she usually at this time. "Is she still with the healers? I was told she had been released from their care," he explained, carefully turning the page of his book. 

Frigga released her magic, looking at him fondly. She wasn't sure how to tell him. "Loki..." she began, crossing the wide room to meet him. "Your father's asked Ingrid to take up residence in the Palace," she informed him carefully. 

"Why?" Loki asked, alarmed. "For how long?". 

"Your father is requiring her counsel..." Frigga tried to explain patiently. "She will stay here for as long as he pleases," 

"But why is she not in your counsel now?" Loki pressed, questioning the reason for her unease at the subject. 

Frigga took a deep breath before returning her gaze to him. "She has been ordered to stay in her chamber until your Father requests to see her," Frigga replied calmly, knowing the response it would trigger. 

"She's his prisoner!" Loki exclaimed, clenching his fists as he stood from his seat. 

"For the time being, yes," Frigga put a hand to his shoulder, begging him to be calm. 

"Where? Where is she? Surely not in the dungeons he can't-" 

"Loki," Frigga warned. "If I tell you where no one must know you've seen her," she pleaded with him. She knew there was nothing in her power she could do to stop him. Nor did she want to, imagining how lonely Ingrid was. And afraid. Loki nodded, leaning closer to her as she whispered. "The far west tower, at the end of the hall. Avoid the guards," 

"Thank you mother,"

Loki approached her chamber cautiously that night. Around the corner, he could see the guards standing watch. With a flick of his wrist, he cast an illusion over himself, slipping past them unseen into her chamber. He appeared silently in front of the door. 

The room was small, with minimal furniture. A bed was provided, as well as few other necessary accessories such as a basin and a tiny dresser. There was a single, small window toward the narrowing end of the room. Glass-stained with yellow hues, blocking out nearly all starlight that illuminated the night. She was given no lanterns and a few candles which had burned for far longer than their normal life expectancy. Though it was preferable over the dungeons, it pained him to see her confined to such a space. 

She was sitting on the small, creaky bed, her bare feet dangling above the hard floor. He saw her stiffen, becoming aware of another presence in the room. "Ingrid," he said softly, afraid of startling her. But she jumped up, wide-eyed and spinning to see him. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked quickly, followed by a more composed "My Prince, forgive me, but I-" she stammered, at a loss of what to say through her shock and relief. 

"I've asked you not to call me that, my dear," he said, hoping to ease her tension. If anything he was afraid that he wound her tighter as she promptly lost any composure she had regained, stammering again to correct herself. "Ingrid," he said again, firmer this time but even he didn't know what to tell her. Why  was  he here? 

"Yes... Loki?" she finally allowed herself to give up her quest for formality. 

"My mother told me you were here," he stepped closer to her. He looked at her tenderly, holding a hand out to her. She took it gingerly, staring back at him in slight confusion. "I wanted to make sure you were safe," he pulled her closer to him, his purpose becoming clearer with every step toward her. "My father can be cruel," he sighed, looking over her arms for any bruising or mishandling. "Has he... what has he done to you?" There were small blue patches, twinged with purple blossoming over her upper arms from the guard's hold. His jaw clenched as he noticed the healing scar across her neck. 

"You seem so sure he is to blame," she responded, but she was hesitant in his presence. "Do you think me so innocent?" 

"What would give him reason for this?" he asked. "Forcing you to his counsel. Keeping you here. As a prisoner," he placed a hand on the side of her face.

"It is the counsel I provide him that gives him reason Loki," she warned, meeting his gaze. 

"And what counsel could persuade him to act this way?" he demanded, but she shied away from him. 

"You know I can't tell you," she shook her head.

After a few tense moments of silence, he conceded. He thought of her, her body on that table, his mother's concern. "It's not the first time you've been unwell," he stated. 

"No it's not," she watched him with worried eyes, fearing the thoughts that were unraveling in his mind. "Loki I-" 

"What is it?" he asked. "What plagues you?" he glared at her, narrowing his glowing green eyes. She stared at him, unable to move, unable to speak. Suddenly, Loki paused. "How recently did you begin to provide my father counsel?" he pressed, his voice growing sharper. Ingrid steadied herself, but she refused to speak. "Answer me," 

She started to shake under his attention. His voice only a whisper, but she knew the force that laid behind it. "Answer me, Ingrid," 

"A few months now," she murmured. 

His head raised slightly in acknowledgment. His gaze turned softer "You're the new seer," he said. She nodded, her head hung in defeat. "Your visions... they're powerful," again she nodded. They must have been, to cause not only so much pain but inspire such pursuit from the Allfather "What did you see?" 

Her focus snapped to him, as she stepped back further. "Loki please," she said, as he pulled her into him. "You know I can't tell you!" she pleaded. 

"Why?!" he snarled. 

"The Allfather forbids it!" she screamed, wrenching her arms from his grip. She felt torn between her loyalty to him and her fear for what she'd seen. She stood on the verge of tears, exhausted, reckless, and vulnerable. "Loki..." she barely whispered, watching his gaze soften as he realized the damage done. 

He moved to her slowly, his hands hovering over her trembling form. Still, she refused to cry, clenching her fists to steady herself. He placed a gentle hand to her face, drawing her closer to him. As he held her, finally she began to cry. He held her tighter, his hand running over her hair as he whispered soothing words to her. "I'm so sorry," she cried. 

"My dear you have nothing to apologize for," he told her, knowing he had pushed her too far. The lives of Seers were legendary for their prestigious pain. The agonizing experience of a vision was envied by no one. Yet the chosen few couldn't reject such an honorable position. How lonely it must have been for her these past weeks, he thought. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his chest clenching. "I'm sorry for disregarding you these past weeks. I-" he stammered, unsure what she needed to hear, or what he needed to say. 

"Your marriage?" she asked softly. He nodded. 

"I never..." he sighed. "I didn't intend for this to..." 

"I know," she said. "Neither did I," and there it was. That unspoken secret between the two of them. That secret -she thought- would die with them both on different paths. Paths that were to split too soon to bear in mind. 

 "My dear," he closed his eyes, his lips pressed to the top of her head. "I promise you, Ingrid," he lifted her chin to meet his gaze. "Whatever my father wants from you, we will protect you,". 

She tried to smile at him, touched by his kind words. She feared there was little he could do. She placed her hand against his face. "Thank you, Loki," she kissed his cheek and leaned back into his arms. He couldn't describe how content he was simply holding her.

"Ingrid... has he hurt you?" he asked tentatively, feeling her stiffen. Though he knew the dreadful truth, he wanted to know what her answer would be. She stepped back, looking down at the floor. He allowed her space. He watched her move to the bed, sitting down wearily with her head in her hands. She glanced at him with reluctant panic. Her pained brown eyes told him everything. His chest ached with concern; never had he seen her so shaken or ashamed. He could only imagine the things she's seen, the prophecies Odin carelessly extracted from her. 

She shuddered at the memory of Odin's counsel. The vision. The vision of the man before her. She couldn't believe it was him. The quiet, intelligent Prince. And what would the Allfather do with such information? What would become of Loki? She watched him turn, with a flick of his hand, a bottle of wine and two glasses appeared. "I think you could use a drink," he poured her one and handed it to her. 

She took it gratefully, savoring its contents. "Thank you very much," she sighed with a genuine smile. A bolder smile, Loki noted. "I'm guessing you plan on staying," she giggled slightly, before quickly covering her mouth and blushing as she realized how idiotic she must sound. Loki chuckled, amused at her virtue and youth. "You're a good friend," she smiled at him, her blush fading. 

"As are you, my dear," he replied honestly, sitting down next to her. Even as she smiled, he could see the exhaustion she harbored. She could feel him observe her. She remembered when she was younger, his gaze gave her an exciting, warm feeling. As she'd grown older, she'd learned to control her emotions. But now, that control disappeared so easily. 

"Your mother..." Ingrid started to say. "she's very kind to me," she drank some more, washing away the fear she felt lingering in her bones. "She... she helped me when..." her voice trembled slightly. She took a deep breath. "In Odin's counsel," she finished. "She's always been very kind to me. You all have," she gave him a small, fatigued smile. 

"You have been a blessing to our family," Loki said. "I remember when you were a young girl at my mother's side. You were... beautifully skilled. Your abilities in magic, empathy, and telepathy were extraordinary. And still, you continue to impress," he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Over the recent years, your counsel has been a great comfort to me," he looked at her, longing to ease her pain. "Let me return the favor," he reached out to her. She gripped his wrist, stopping him. "Do you trust me?" he asked her. 

Trust my rage

She gasped slightly at the voice. "I'll only see what you let me," he promised her, watching her with obvious concern. "I won't look for the visions... I won't hurt you," and she believed him. Slowly and hesitantly she released his wrist. 

His fingertips grazed the side of her face, resting tenderly on her temple. She felt him as a gentle force among her thoughts, among her emotions. He tested her waters carefully, approaching the obvious first before pulling at less apparent current. He could feel a power surging through her. It was deeply rooted, concealed, and relentless. Terror was residing in her, a burning resentment, and a growing sense of determination. He felt her press back and he withdrew slightly. He eased her tension, feeling emotions flow through her and release from her body. There were so many at once. Without images or words to describe them. When they slowed, her fatigue began to take over.

He felt her body grow limp, leaning against him. He released most of his hold upon her mind, carefully laying her down upon the bed. His fingertips brushed her forehead and down her face with a soft green glow. He brought her to a deeper, dreamless sleep.

As soon as he knew she was safe, he moved stealthily from the room. He strode through the Palace halls, reaching his chambers. "My Prince," the guards nodded to him.  

"Alert the Head Maid that Lady Ingrid is to be at my undivided counsel tomorrow!" 

"Yes, my Prince,"

Chapter Text

Ingrid groaned, slowly waking in the darkness of her chamber. She jumped at the sound of banging and yelling against the chamber door. "She's has duties to attend to!" she heard a woman yell. Her heavy eyes focused as she began to grasp her surroundings. 

"She is to stay here!" she heard a guard shout back. 

"These are orders from the Prince!" Ingrid recognized that voice. "Unless you wish to speak to him yourself, I advise you to allow her to attend to her duties," the intimidating sound of Mistress Astrid's voice was one she knew too well. 

"Very well," the guards conceded. The chamber door opened and Mistress Astrid marched in. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was untidy from the quarrel. 

"Mistress Astrid," Ingrid greeted her cautiously as she huffed with rage. "How can I help you?" she asked, noticing the worry in her expression. 

"Prince Loki has requested your counsel today," she announced, mastering herself and Ingrid realized the reason for her concern. 

"But I have been ordered by the Allfa-," Ingrid started.

"Prince Loki demands it," she stated firmly. From the look in her wise, gray eyes Ingrid knew better than to challenge her. "You need to get dressed. Immediately!" she ordered. "Wash up!"

Ingrid moved quickly to the tiny basin as Mistress Astrid laid out a pristine white dress for her to wear. She dressed swiftly, holding her wet hair off her shoulders as she dried it with a flick of her wrist. Mistress Astrid stood behind her, helping her pull the long curls into a suitable braided style. A soft smile playing over the older woman's lips as she brushed her way through the wild, tight curls. 

"Do you know the reason?" Ingrid asked her softly, contemplating what led him to this. He must know the orders of the Allfather, and still, he challenges it? What state of mind would she find him in? Or was this one of his games? After last night she thought he understood her predicament. Even for him, it was dangerous to defy the Allfather. And she knew who would take the consequence if that's what it came to. A grimace clouded her features. Surely he did as well. 

"No," Mistress Astrid replied, but beyond the obvious conflict, Ingrid could feel there was something else she knew. Something else to be mindful of. "He'll be waiting for you in his chambers," she said finally and Ingrid knew she must go. Mistress Astrid gave her one last reassuring smile and a small squeeze on her shoulder before they departed. 

Ingrid hurried hesitantly to Loki's chambers. She clenched her fists to steady herself as she approached the large elaborate doors. She inhaled sharply, raising her fist but he spoke before she could knock. "Come in Ingrid," he called, she nodded as if he could see her, softly pushing open the door. 

He was standing near the terrace, dressed casually. She couldn't sense any prominent rage from him, nor any intense form of distress. Instead, he smiled at her, as though happy to see her. "Pr-" she started to greet him, but stopped herself. "Loki," she watched as his smile broadened. 

Ingrid became increasingly surprised by his desire for her counsel. It seemed mostly unnecessary. If anything, she was simply there for company and he treated her as such. She accompanied him in his duties throughout the morning, never once did he ask anything from her besides casual conversation. 

She was intrigued by many of his conferences. She found herself watching him closely, his demeanor and presence in the room. He could switch from mischievous to menacing in a moment. Often he did in these meetings. He never seemed to lose his charm or ambition. His temper was easy to ignite, and his perception rarely wavered. He was cunning, to a dangerous extent. 

She was most fascinated by his relationship with his brother. She admired not only their arguments but also their alliances on matters. Thor was easily tricked, as were most by Loki, but Thor had the most amusing reaction. Ingrid loved when the glare of rage was replaced by an inevitable smile of trust. Though she could tell Loki cared deeply for Thor, she knew he sometimes twisted the meaning of that love through pure self-degradation. He tensed tightly whenever compared to his brother. He resigned himself around others when Thor was present. Only when they were alone could you see the value of their complex relationship. 

Most would call them outright opposites, but there were subtle similarities. A sense of humor, an arrogance, a rich temper, and a thirst for admiration which they shared with their father. In many ways, Ingrid thought of Loki as more like his father than Thor. There was a quiet magnetism both possessed and an ability to captivate and persuade. Ingrid noticed it most in their tone of voice, but sometimes just for a moment in their eyes, a click of the jaw, or sway of the body. Many would attest to the likeness between both sons and their mother. Perhaps Loki the most, his talent in magic made the resemblance obvious. But there were other tell-tale signs like when they both picked that the palm of their left hand when nervous. Ingrid smiled slightly at the thought, knowing both of them so personally. 

By midday, they had retired to one of the more reserved gardens. Rather Loki had, and Ingrid as his counsel followed in suit. She lay on the soft grass, watching the bright yellow fish in the contemplation pool next to them. Ingrid loved being surrounded by nature, she knew Loki did too. She turned to look at him. He was seated in one of the elaborate stone benches, a book in hand, and a breeze rustling the pages. As she watched him, a familiar question returned to mind. 

"Why did you request me to accompany you today?" she turned over to her stomach to face him. 

"Why wouldn't I?" he teased, turning to the next page. Ingrid sighed, pulling at the grass in front of her. 

"I could be punished for disobeying the Allfather's command," she stated bluntly. "I'd rather not be," she added subtly after, trying to correct her crude attitude. 

"You won't be my dear," he said softly, gazing over his book to meet her eyes. 

"Why?" she pressed further, more confident with his full attention. 

"Because you are following my command," he said forthrightly. She nodded with a soft hum, conceding as her gaze fell to the soft grass in front of her. She glanced up at him from time to time, admiring his features in the bright sunlight. His green eyes lighter like peridots, and his hair almost darker than black. His concentrated gaze on his book and fingers tapping lightly on the page. As she felt herself blush, she reminded herself she couldn't feel this way for him. Even if she did, even if he felt the same. There was more than just the difference between status; Once her servitude ended, she had to leave, and he was to be married. She was grateful for Loki and Frigga's protection, but she couldn't stay in Asgard any longer than necessary.

The vision... a pain swelled in her body at the thought. Was he truly the man she saw... was it true? The Allfather's counsel was growing more dangerous. The things she saw... Odin believed them to be true. Then again, if they weren't true, why would Odin attempt to kill her? She shook her lightly, sighing under her breath. As much as she hated the impending reality, she had to leave. Not only Asgard, but Loki as well. She sat up slowly as shame seeped through her like a cold rain, but she forced herself to suppress it. Loki glanced toward her as he heard her sigh again. 

She turned to see the small stack of books next to him. She stood and moved closer to them, tilting her head to read the faded titles. She smiled slightly, feeling his eyes on her. "May I?" she gestured to the books. He nodded to her, still intent on her actions. She smirked, picking up the one on top and beginning to flip through the pages. Compared to most, the text was old, slightly tattered and worn. She recognized notes in the margins, handwritten, but not the same script she thought at first. Her eyes widened as she compared several of the chapters. "This was yours, from when you were a boy," she flipped through the pages, enchanted by the evolution of his handwriting. 

"Yes," Loki sighed, looking up at her charmed features. "Do you know the text?" he asked. He thought she almost rolled her eyes. 

"You forget we had the same teacher," she set the spellbook down, looking at the others. "These are all your favorites, aren't they?" she asked, recognizing the titles. "I remember them," she picked another up, but her smile fell just slightly as she remembered the times they spent together when she was younger. They weren't much different then. Escaping to the gardens with books and tricks. She tried to remember the last time they'd spent time like this. She smiled brightly, recalling how he would make her laugh. As if she had never worried about anything. 

"Ingrid," he said softly, bringing her back from her thoughts. She met his gaze, surprised by the look in his eyes as though he knew what she was thinking. As if he remembered too. 

"Yes?" she asked. 

"You're very kind," he said gently, standing from the bench. 

She blushed and scoffed lightly, "You shouldn't say things like that to me Loki," she playfully warned him. 

"I want to," he watched her blush deepen. He reached out tucking a loose strand from her braid behind her ear. His fingertips grazed the soft neck of her neck briefly before his hand fell back to his side. "What will you do?" he inquired suddenly "When your servitude ends?". 

She stood silent for several anxious moments. "Leave," she answered finally. She hated the word as she said it, looking into his emerald eyes. 

She stepped back startled as she heard rustling from behind. The sound of marching and the rhythmic clink of armor. Two guards appeared. "Prince Loki, the Allfather is requesting your presence," one announced. By their expression and tone, Ingrid doubted 'request' was the proper word. 

"Tell him I am indisposed," Loki responded indifferently. 

"It is urgent," the guard replied, Ingrid, watched him tense. Loki's cool eyes moved toward him in warning. 

"Why?" he demanded.

"The suitors are here, my Prince,"

Ingrid struggled to keep up with Loki as he stormed through the palace halls. She recognized several of the large banquet rooms as they passed. She realized they were headed toward the throne room. Her head bowed, fearing what Odin would say to her, to him. She glanced toward Loki, but there was no change in his rigid, enraged demeanor. As they entered the large hall, she noticed his pace slowing. 

"Mother," Ingrid was startled by his low, dark tone he addressed his mother with as they approached the throne. She glanced up, catching a glimpse of the Queen. Ingrid's breath was caught in her throat as her gaze met Frigga's. The Queen's intense green eyes lingered over her. A surge of heartache was evident in her expression. Ingrid wondered if it was truly meant for her. She glanced at Loki, noticing his furious, but startled face. "Ingrid," he said suddenly. 

"Yes, my Prince," she replied immediately. He glanced back at her as she stepped forward. 

"Stay by the west door," he said first. As she turned to move, he gripped her wrist. "Stay with Mother," he warned her in a whispered tone. He met her gaze, softening slightly as he looked over her calming disposition. She nodded, moving toward the west door behind Frigga. 

"Bring in the suitors," Frigga ordered the guards. 

"Mother-" 

"Enough Loki," she cautioned him, turning back to the guard. "Bring them now," 

"I told you, I don't want this," Loki stated firmly, approaching his mother. 

"You don't have a choice Loki," she turned toward him, her yellow gown swaying with her. Ingrid felt the tension rise between them and she sank further into the shadows of the hall's columns. She watched as Frigga placed a hand against his cheek. She thought she heard Loki reply, their voices lowered as they spoke. 

"I don't...can wait... not now," Loki said. 

"Perfectly capable... noblewomen... Who... want?" Ingrid saw Frigga ask. 

"... her," he whispered. Who was 'her'? Ingrid stiffened, lowering her gaze as Frigga glanced over to her. Ingrid couldn't mistake the acute concern in her eyes. "Is Father coming?" she heard him ask as she stared at the dark marbled floor. 

"No, he's not," Frigga assured him. "She's safe," Ingrid felt her chest swell. She exhaled heavily, as their words hung over her heart. 

"My Queen," the guard announced. They turned to face him. "The Lady Amora, the Lady Lorelei, and the Lady Sigyn," the guard bowed, taking his leave as the three women entered the throne room. 

Ingrid gasped slightly as she watched the three women. She felt her jaw clench as Amora's eyes lingered over her. A small smirk graced her face as the gorgeous blonde turned to greet Loki and his mother. Ingrid felt her palms heat up. She watched her speak to him, run her hand down his arm. Though he moved away from her, Ingrid recognized the young woman behind him. She watched as Frigga introduced him to Sigyn. The buoyant and timid blonde blushed under the attention. 

Ingrid's eyes widened as she recognized the last woman. Her crimson red hair and elegant height were stunning. She remembered the woman's curved structure, her sweet touch, and flirtatious voice. Ingrid reached out to the closest column, easing further into its shadow. She glanced at him, watching him smile and laugh with them. And it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. The sunlight streamed through the tall, open windows, touching every inch of the floor but where she stood. It glittered over their elegant dresses, across their starry eyes, and over his serene features. 

Ingrid met Sigyn's gaze suddenly, the slight surprise in her perfect blue eyes was surreal. She didn't smile, she simply stared at Ingrid, until her lips mouthed a comprehending "oh" and averted her gaze. Ingrid stood before her as a servant and she as Loki's suitor. At that moment, Ingrid felt a surge of resentment overpower her. She turned quickly away, following the dark shadows to the west door.  

Ingrid led herself through, leaning against the walls of the hall as she held herself. She hoped no one would notice if she just left. If she just ran. Her legs felt heavy, her vision blurred slightly, but she clenched her fists, refusing to cry. She just needed to go. She needed to walk away, and she hated that she couldn't. She hated this weight in her chest, she hated his imprint in her mind, and she hated him. She hated his game. His fantasy of them. Her fantasy of them. 

She heard shouting, she heard slamming. She heard guards rushing in and the hall behind her becoming quieter. A steady stride approached her. "Come with me," his voice commanded her. 

"No," she said, staring into his determined green eyes. 

"Come with me now!" he growled, gripping her upper arm, and dragged her along. 

"Loki!" she yelped, her feet slipping beneath her. He pulled her along with him. She couldn't register where they were or why. Each time she jerked away, he pulled her back to him with overpowering strength. Suddenly she recognized his chamber doors, she thrashed as he thrust them through the threshold. "Loki stop!" she shouted as he held her tighter against him. "Just stop!"

"Look at me!" he demanded. Instantly, she met his gaze with sheer rage. "Look at me," he clasped her face gently, as they both calmed. He ran his thumb lightly over her sharp cheekbone. He could hear her distraught and agitated sighs, each shaking her body as they left her lips. 

"Loki," she sighed, grabbing his arm. "What are you doing?" she asked, shaking her head. In truth, he didn't know. He remembered standing there, trying to smile, trying to laugh. Trying to choose, but it was impossible. When he saw her, turning, leaving, distressed and resigned. He knew she hadn't heard him, he knew she didn't know what happened. 

"I can't choose any of them," he said finally. She stared at him bewildered. "Ingrid, I can't marry them," he felt her shying away, and he let her. His arms fell to his side as he watched her. 

"Why can't you?" she asked. "Any one of them would make you a good wife," her gaze fell to the floor as her voice dimmed. 

"I don't want any of them," he stated firmly.

She drew a sharp breath, exhaling slowly. "Then who do you want Loki?" she asked as her gaze softened upon him, and she feared his answer. Carefully, he walked toward her, taking her hands in his. Looking into her kind brown eyes, he had never been more sure of anything. 

"I've only wanted you," he whispered as a tear escaped her eye. "Ingrid," he placed a tender hand against her face. He smiled just slightly as she leaned into him. He felt a blush rise on his skin with her only inches away. He closed his eyes as her hand came to rest against his cheek and the other against his chest. Her touch brought him instant relief. It felt euphoric to have her so close without any barriers between them. 

"Loki," she breathed as he grazed his lips against hers. He sighed blissfully as she tilted her jaw to met him. He gathered her in his arms, a hand against her silky curls and another tightly around her waist. Her hands weaved through his hair, tugging him gently down to her as she blushed. Her lips were perfectly delicate and soft. He chased her slightly as she pulled away, stroking her hair. "Loki," she murmured. 

"What is it my dear?" he asked her softly, resting his forehead against hers. He heard her sigh, conflict brewing beneath her skin. 

"Loki, I... we..." she began to shake her head. "You must know," she pleaded with him. His glowing, beautiful green eyes meet hers. "We can't..." 

"Why?" he urged, holding her tighter. "Ingrid we can, we will," 

"Loki, no," the painful words escaped her lips, another tear falling down her cheek. "You know we can't..." she sighed watching sorrow fill his eyes. She pulled him closer, burying her face into his chest. She wished she could never leave his presence. "Loki, you could never marry me," she choked out the words, forcing herself to part with him. 

"Why?!" he demanded, trying to pull her back to him. 

"I'm a servant! I can't... I can't stay here! I- I just..." she began to panic. "I'm so sorry!" she cried, turning away from him and running. 

"Ingrid!"

The Banquet Hall was filled with laughter. The evening light hung heavy over the city. Loki watched the tall buildings gleam under the low orange and purple light. He held his wine glass tightly as he unclenched the nearly white fist once again at his side. "Brother," Thor approached him, eyeing Loki carefully. 

"Yes," only his mouth moved slightly. Thor sighed, his chest ached at the sight of his brother. Many would dismiss his apparent indifference to the banquet, but Thor knew there was something amiss. Loki hadn't eaten, barely moved, his focus on the dimming city for hours. It was not the view that had his attention, something else captured his thoughts. 

"What troubles you?" Thor asked, placing a strong hand on his tense shoulder. He felt the vibration of rage through Loki's body. Slight trembles rippled through his shoulders and hands when provoked. Thor stood closer to him, his eyes widened as he saw the dried lines of tears on his brother's pale face. "Loki-"

"I appreciate the concern brother, however, I'd rather be left alone," his tone was dark, and dejected, matching his dull and beaten gaze. His exhausted jade eyes lingered over Thor with a subtle threat. Thor nodded, knowing not to press, and moved back toward the festivities and laughter of the banquet behind him. 

Above all else, confusion and doubt manifested in Loki. The pain he felt was breathtaking. His eyes closed and he shuddered, recalling her expression. He remembered the soft warmth that filled him when she kissed him and the anxious desperation he felt when she clutched him tighter. She had rejected him and fled in a ruined state equal to his own. A fresh tear paved down his cheek to the edge of his jaw. He knew she cared for him as he did for her. It was impossible to deny their affections now, which made the circumstance even more heartbreaking for both. 

She was afraid. He could see that now. In many ways, she wasn't pushing him away but saving herself. I can't stay here! his jaw clenched at the memory. No, she couldn't. Whatever his father planned with her as his seer was nothing Loki would ever want for her. 

Odin ordered her to his counsel, imprisoned her, terrified her to where she even spoke of leaving Asgard. Why her? Odin was well acquired with several accomplished seers, it wouldn't be difficult for him to acquire a new Oracle. He gasped, a hopeless anguish cascaded through him. He remembered when he was a child, watching as his father's Oracle was tortured for their knowledge in his father's war room. Picturing her in their place overwhelmed him with a wave of nausea.

Loki stared down at the crimson red wine in the glass. If she was his, she would never feel that pain. She would never need to leave. He couldn't let her leave him. 

Loki strode to the throne room, demanding an audience with Odin. The guards hesitantly obliged and he was allowed to enter. His pace slowed as he approached his father who was positioned confidently on the throne. "Father," Loki greeted him in a low, almost spiteful tone. 

"Loki," Odin watched him skeptically. 

"I've chosen a suitor for marriage," Loki allowed his light smirk to fall from his face, eyeing his father's slightly stunned, but pleased expression.

"Who, my son?" he asked with a kinder gaze. 

"Lady Ingrid," Loki said firmly. His father's face twisted with vexation. His blue eye iced over, and his appearance paled. "She's the only one I'll marry Father... and you will let me," he droned as his gaze darkened. 

"Why would I allow you to marry her?" Odin demanded. 

Loki chuckled slightly, eyeing his father cynically. "You plan to make her your Oracle," he watched his father lean back, slowly tensing, and he knew he was right. "She plans on leaving Asgard..." a flicker ignited in his father's eye. "A Seer of such extraordinary power... power you crave to control... surely I think you'd wish to avoid that?" 

"... yes," Odin conceded finally, sighing heavily. He knew Loki had always had a fondness for the girl, never did he believe it would come to this. "Is this your bargain Loki?" he awaited the answer, testing his commitment. 

"It is, Father," and Odin nodded. 

"Her sight in exchange for her hand in marriage..." he stood confidently as his son's audacious green eyes stared into him. Loki nodded, his expression unwavering. "Are you willing to subject her to such torment my son?" just then Loki's glare softened, Odin witnessed the raw emotion which inspired his actions. 

"She will be safe as long as she is with me," he stated firmly. Odin knew not to challenge him, but he questioned the validity of such a statement. The deal was sound. With everything she knew, the power she held, Odin would kill her before he allowed her to walk free. 

"Very well Loki,"   

Chapter Text

Odin entered his and Frigga's shared chambered cautiously. He smiled softly as he approached their bedroom to find his wife. Frigga was seated on the edge of the bed pulling her golden hair from her braids. "My love," he greeted her gently, her kind, dark blue eyes fell upon him and she smiled. "I have revelations from our son,"

"From Loki?" Frigga asked, glancing up at him with curiosity. 

"Yes he's chosen a suitor," Odin watched her smile fade slightly. She eyed him hesitantly. After what happened in the throne room, she refused to believe he had chosen one of them. 

"Who?" she asked, fearing his answer.

"Lady Ingrid," he told her. Her eyes widened just slightly as her smile falsified. Though her heart swelled with joy for Loki, she felt it crash back down knowing Ingrid wouldn't willingly agree. Not because she didn't harbor affections for him, but because there was no future for those affections to thrive. 

"And you will allow for this?" She narrowed her eyes at him. 

"I will," 

"Why?" she inquired, standing from the bed. 

"Loki has refused to marry anyone else..." Odin scoffed slightly. "He has demanded her hand in marriage, and if he chooses to marry a whore's daughter so be it. She will be his wife after all," he smirked mockingly. 

"Don't you dare speak of her that way!" Frigga spoke quietly, but firm. "She has no family! She is well respected and a suitable choice for him! He would be much better off with her, than with a concubine such as Amora!" He heeded her words, nodding sincerely. 

"Yes, he would. She is a fit match for him," he admitted, thinking of her grace and boldness. She carried herself well, held her tongue well, was disciplined and pristine. Young, almost too young, but her mind was well-bred. "She is a very capable girl. Very powerful," he said, and out the corner of his eye, he saw his wife stiffen. He turned to her slowly, deliberately. "Loki told me she plans to leave Asgard after her servitude ends..." he watched her intensely. "You must know I cannot allow that," the fading glimmer in her anxious eyes told him Loki was right. "He adores her," Odin sighed, and Frigga nodded, her gaze falling to the floor. "He's happier in her company than he has been for many years,". She glanced at him then, picking at the soft skin of her left palm. 

"What will you do with her?" she asked, knowing that his son's happiness couldn't be his only reason. 

"She will become my Oracle. Her hand in marriage in exchange for her sight," he explained. 

"What has she shown you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"She knows everything Loki is and everything he will become," Odin said gravely. Her eyes widened at his words. She was speechless. "And I will kill her,” he promised “if she dares to escape,". 

Ingrid couldn't sleep that night. She remembered running back to her small, vacant chambers. Nearly slamming into the guards and the heavy door. Within moments, she found herself on the floor, knees to her chest, quietly weeping. She stayed there until morning. Her cheek pressed to the cold, stone floor and her body tightly bound to itself. Every emotion she had over the past weeks had burned through her. Every heartbeat pounded with distinct reminders of fear, regret, and pure hatred for it all. 

For her visions. For Odin. For her status. For her future. For Loki. For their affections. For herself. 

She wished she hadn't fled. She wished she'd stayed in his arms. She felt her body tense as she remembered the feeling of his lips against hers. How he sighed and how his skin felt under her fingertips. She forcibly pushed the images away, dragging herself from the floor. Her eyes were bloodshot, swollen, and her face was drained of color. 

She jumped as she heard a soft knocking at the door. She brushed herself up quickly, stumbling. Her body rigid and stiff. A guard entered and her gaze dropped to the floor. She clasped her hands in front of her, preparing for Odin's presence, but a soft step followed the guard in. She glanced up, curious of the visitor. 

"My Queen," she gasped, her hands fidgeting in the wrinkled fabric of her dress. A wave of relief hit her slowly, for surely if Odin had seen her in such a state over an affair with his son. Was it an affair? If he was to be married to another woman, a noblewoman. S felt nausea pour over her at the thought of her punishment for such a crime. For only a kiss? she wondered, swaying slightly as she stood before Frigga. 

"Leave us," Frigga ordered, moving toward the stricken girl. "Ingrid!" she grasped her. "What happened?" she looked her features over. The lifeless eyes, the tangled hair, wrinkled dress. "Sit. Sit now!" she told her, pushing her down to the small bed. 

"I'm so sorry!" Ingrid began, covering herself and drying her eyes roughly. Her skin burned a fevered temperature as she felt the tears well up again. 

"Ingrid, my child..." she ran a hand through her hair, turning her face toward her. "What happened yesterday?" even with a small glimpse into her vermilion-colored eyes, almost wine red as it muddled with her natural dark bronze. "What happened with Loki?" at the mention of his name, she broke open. Silent tears flowed down her cheeks, jaw, and neck. Frigga pulled her closer into her arms. One of her hands ran down the metal of the armband, Ingrid nearly gasped, looking away quickly. Frigga eyed her gravely as a pained blush burned into her skin. 

"I rejected him," she whispered into the quiet room. Another outburst filling her as the first died down. Frigga shut her eyes, sighing into Ingrid's soft hair. I rejected him she repeated in her mind. "And I... I wish I hadn't... I wish I had a choice..." she went on, unable to contain herself. Frigga listened intently to every regret she had, many of which were never in her control to begin with. Nor was her future. 

"Ingrid," she said softly, as the young woman steadied herself. Frigga allowed her to pull away, she watched her close her eyes, sighing as she remastered her composure. "Everything will be alright," she told her and Ingrid nodded in acknowledgment of her reassurance. Hesitantly, Frigga chose her next words. "We need to prepare you," she took Ingrid's hand in hers. 

"Prepare for what?" Ingrid asked, her perplexed gaze meeting Frigga's sincere smile. With a flick of her wrist, Frigga revealed an ivory, silk dress that gleamed with bands of gold armor woven through the waist. It was much more alluring and elegant than her usual attire. Though it was traditional for maiden servants to wear white, it was a rule Ingrid often discarded as Frigga's student. 

"Come," Frigga urged her, and Ingrid didn't question her. Frigga led her up toward the floating gown. "Guards?" she called to those behind the door. 

"Yes, my Queen?" one answered. 

"Fetch Mistress Astrid please," she ordered and he left with a curt nod. Ingrid undressed hesitantly, and Frigga noted how she wore the armband, nearly as an extension of herself, for she didn't take it off. Ingrid admired the dress closer, but she realized she didn't understand how to put it on. "Here, my child," Frigga coaxed Ingrid's vulnerable form gently. Layer by layer the gown was donned upon her.

Mistress Astrid entered quietly. Ingrid caught her lingering gaze on her. "Doesn't she look beautiful?" Frigga smiled. Ingrid's eyes widened at her words, turning to face the beaming Queen. 

"She does," Astrid agreed, a sad sort of happiness in her eyes. Ingrid blushed under their admiration and pride for her. Astrid approached her, beginning to persuade the tangles from her buoyant curls. Frigga held various earrings and headpieces up to her features. Ingrid gawked slightly at the beauty of the gold chains threaded through exquisite emerald gems. Astrid braided her thick, silken curls into a tidy updo. The rest was pulled to the side as Frigga stepped behind her, settling an intricate emerald pendant upon her collarbone. Her hair flowed down her shoulders as the last ornaments were added. Ingrid's ankles wavered slightly in the white heels. 

Ingrid watched as with the flick of Frigga's wrist a mirror appeared before her. She gasped at her reflection. Frigga's hands rested on her shoulders as she smiled at the stunning reflection. She looked like a noblewoman; refined and gallant. "You're ready," she said with a genuine smile, but Ingrid could have sworn there was an ounce of apprehension in her sapphire eyes. Eyes as perceptive as his she couldn't help but think. She lowered her gaze, coming back to Frigga's words. 

"Ready for what?" she asked, stilled mystified by the situation she found herself in. Frigga took her arm in hers and led her from the small chambers. Astrid followed behind them in soft steps. "My Queen..." Ingrid said softly. "I still don't understand what's happening..." but Frigga simply answered her with a gentle smile. 

"Frigga, my child," she replied and Ingrid nearly froze, memorized by the tone she'd heard a thousand times from her son. Frigga she thought quietly to herself. Anxiety began to bubble in her chest as they walked. 

They approached one of the Queen's many council rooms. Ingrid sighed with relief as she took in the familiar sight. But as they entered her gaze landed on several unknown faces. Many of them bowed to her and she assumed they meant their respects to Frigga. She was easily surprised as they addressed her respectfully as "Lady Ingrid,". She was taken aback by the treatment, glancing to Frigga with wide eyes for an explanation.

"My Lady, please sit," one encouraged her. He was a tall, older man, dressed in noble attire with a royal decree held tightly in his hand. He seemed slightly familiar. She sat carefully, feeling the atmosphere tense with a joyful, but uneasy feeling. "Please state your name, age, and family relations," the man asked. 

"Oh um, my name is Ingrid... and I am-"

"Your full name please," he interjected. 

"Her name is Lady Ingrid, Lord Halvor," Frigga corrected him with a sharp tone. Ingrid snapped to him, recognizing the name instantly. He was Odin's domestic advisor, she'd seen several times in council with the King. 

"Of course," he apologized, noting the absence of a surname. "Continue," he watched her intently. 

Ingrid stammered but continued "I am three hundred years old," she said, small whispers were beginning to break throughout the room. So young! one said, No father? another exclaimed. Her voice faltered as she contemplated the last thing he asked from her. "I... I don't have any relations, my Lord,". 

He looked to Frigga briefly, who nodded for him to continue. "Very well..." he unrolled the scroll and began to read aloud. "The King has decreed that Lady Ingrid will be betrothed to Prince Loki Odinson, following the end of her servitude. The engagement will be announced in three days..." he continued to speak, but the room became silent to Ingrid. Those words poisoned her mind. Nausea gripped her, threatening her consciousness.

She felt Frigga at her side but couldn't tell what was occurring around her. "Leave us!" Frigga ordered. Soon only Ingrid, Frigga, Mistress Astrid, and Lord Halvor were left in the agitated space. "I don't... I don't understand," Ingrid said slowly, grasping at fleeting thoughts and emotions. 

"The King has ordered-" 

"Ordered?!" she stood quickly. 

"Yes, my Lady," he told her, stepping back.

"I have no say?!" her voice rose with rage. 

"You are below the Prince's status, barely a noblewoman in your own right. You have no male next-of-kin to reject the marriage for you..." he stated forcefully. "Furthermore, It has been decreed by the King. You cannot refuse," his gaze lowered.

"Thank you Lord Halvor, you can leave us now," Frigga curtly dismissed him as politely as she could. He discreetly bowed before exiting the room.

Ingrid stood there for a moment, breathing heavily as her head drowned in overflowing thoughts. "Did you know?" she asked Frigga at last, turning to face her. Her eyes were lit with intense wrath, but they softened slightly as she met Frigga's gaze. "Did you?"  

"Yes," she replied, her answer cutting through the room. Ingrid began to shake her head as her vision blurred. 

"I can't... I can't marry him... You know I can't!" she pleaded as her body trembled. "I have to leave... I can't stay here!" Ingrid whispered as the streams of hot tears rolled down her cheeks and off her jaw. Frigga's composure broke at that moment as she realized the magnitude of her fear. And she knew Ingrid was right. Odin would execute her if she ran, but he would torture her to death if she stayed. There was nothing to be done to prevent it. 

After a time, Frigga and Astrid escorted Ingrid from the council room. Frigga held her arm tightly as she led the numb girl through the golden halls of the Palace. Ingrid's heavy eyes begged to close. Her body ached as she moved thoughtlessly. A thick sheathe of fear veiling her from outside stimulation. She vaguely distinguished the halls as they passed them. Slowly, her focus sharpened as she realized they weren't headed back to her chambers. "My Queen?" she asked, tugging slightly at Frigga's arm. "Where are we-"

"You'll see," she replied calmly, placing a hand atop of Ingrid's and guiding her further down the elaborate hall. Ingrid gazed up wearily at the elaborate doors and murals on the ceilings. She recognized the long hall before them, as her gaze rested upon his chamber doors. 

"No! Wait!" Ingrid jerked from her grasp, eyeing the door fearfully. She was torn between the instinct to run and the desire to scream with as much rage as she could muster. Which admittedly would be very little at that moment. "What is this?" she demanded. 

"Your new chambers," Frigga placed her hands gently over her tense shoulders. "Come," she coaxed her, taking her hand again and leading her carefully to the doors across from Loki's chambers. Ingrid gasped as they entered the chambers. It was remarkably similar to Loki's. She was amazed by the luxury furnishings, blue drapes covered the golden walls. A large terrace was lit in glorious sunlight which effortlessly filled the room. "You will live here until the wedding," Frigga said, walking into the sitting room. "There are the bedroom and private washroom," she gestured to the large door at the end of the room, moving toward it. Ingrid followed her hesitantly. 

"It's alright dear," Astrid encouraged her, placing a hand at the small of her back. Ingrid flinched slightly at the endearment but nodded. They followed Frigga into the bedroom and Ingrid's eyes continued to widen. It startled how similar it was to Loki's bedroom.The chambers seemed scarsely decorated with  her few intimate possessions from her home. Or what was home... she thought bitterly. 

"Ingrid come sit," Frigga sat down at the foot of the bed. "This will take time to adjust to but-"

"I- I don't want to adjust," Ingrid said, sitting down next to her. 

"I know, but this will get better," she reassured her. "I've requested Mistress Astrid to be your chambermaid," Frigga smiled to Astrid, who offered a comforting smile as well. "She will keep you informed with your duties for the day," 

"Thank you," Ingrid muttered softly, smiling as best she could. "I uh, I assume I am still under orders by the Allfather to stay here unless I am otherwise engaged," Ingrid prompted. Frigga nodded knowingly. "What did um..." she shook her head trying to remember the words Lord Halvor had said. "The betrothal... when will it be announced?" she looked quizzically at Frigga. 

"There will be an Engagement Ball in three days, there the betrothal will be announced by the King," Frigga explained, watching Ingrid nearly finch under mention of Odin. 

"My Queen," Ingrid boldly stated. "If I am... to marry Loki, I need- I need to speak to him please," 

"I'm sorry Ingrid," she gazed at her with remorseful eyes. "The soonest you may be able to speak to him would be at the Ball," Frigga reached over to grasp her trembling hand tightly. "I'll speak to you late tonight... Ingrid, we will get you to safety," she hugged her tightly. "You will be safe,"

Chapter Text

Ingrid lay on the large bed, her arms and legs spread out over the spacious and plush surface. It was larger than any bed she'd had before. She stared up at the murals, Asgard's insignia at the center of the domed ceiling. Perfectly golden. Perfectly honorable and regal. Her jaw clenched as she fisted her hands once again in the soft, silken bedding. 

She sat up slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes shifted over her few possessions in the large bedroom. It had all happened so fast. The visions, Odin, her imprisonment, Loki, the suitors, and now... marriage. How could it all have led to this? 

She kicked off one heel and then the other. They landed with a loud thud! across the dark marbled floor. She stepped lightly, barefoot across around the room, running her hands over the various furnishings. The feeling of velvet, gold, and silk brushed across her fingertips. It was so much like him. The vast chambers were almost a replica of his bedroom, only with the color blue instead of green. Frigga's color she thought to herself. Ingrid had no family relations, no colors of her own. She smiled lightly, a warm feeling of pride washed through her as she gazed over her Queen's color. Now her own. 

But her smile fell, exhaustion grasping her yet again. She sighed, approaching the vanity dresser and mirror. She eyed the pendant on her collarbone. The emerald, teardrop stone settled firmly in the soft valley between her breasts. His color she thought. She grimaced, reaching behind her neck and unclasping the chain. She held it closer to the mirror, watching it gleam in the late afternoon sunlight. She let it slip through her fingers, the pendant falling gracefully to the vanity's surface. 

She stood, moving toward the washroom. She pushed the large door open gently to reveal the dark room. Drapes hung from the dim, golden walls. Stained glass windows domed the ceiling in an intricate circle. Rays of sunlight lingered over a pool at the center of the room. The water glittered with the light. Ingrid walked carefully over to its edge, gazing up the beautiful windows and light. Slowly, layer by layer she removed the elegant gown, breathing deeply as the last article fell from her hand and the heavy weight was released. 

She sighed as she descended the stairs into the warm water. She reached up, undoing her hair from its tight confines. She submerged herself completely, gasping as she resurfaced, smoothing her hair down her neck. She sighed blissfully as she wrapped her hands around her chilled body. 

She leaned back against the ledge of the pool, the fabric of her gown rippled over the floor behind her. Her palms lingered over her shoulders and moved down her arms. She gasped, her fingertips lingering over the cool metal of Loki's armband. She gazed down at the golden, emerald-eyed snakes wrapped tightly around her upper arm. 

Has he hurt you? Loki's voice chimed tenderly in her head. Yes! Of course, he has! she felt herself shout silently. She knew that better than most. Her first experiences in Odin's war counsel had lingered in her nightmares for some time. She knew what he did to Seers who disobeyed, who kept their visions from him. She knew the lengths he would go to for information... was marriage one of them? She shuddered as she imagined the things he could do to her. Sheer execution would be sweet compared to the coldness of the King's torture chambers. And how soon? How soon until he would force her to his counsel again? And for what? For the threat of her visions to him? For his son? 

 I won't look for the visions... no, and he didn't. The images and words she had tried and failed to banish from her mind. That raw power, raw rage. It was a feeling she felt every day. Did he feel it too? Was it so hard to believe it was there? Lurking beneath the surface of those green eyes. When his voice deepened, when his smile turned deranged, and his glittering eyes awakened with a raging madness. He could switch from sensibility to chaos in a matter of seconds, and for as long as she could remember, she could predict every move. Perhaps what scared her most of all was that she knew that raging part of him existed as a part of his soul. A part of him she couldn't predict. She feared those images truly were his future. 

She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. She remembered him from when they were younger. Before their friendship was guarded behind the locked doors of the Palace. Before their friendship was forced to become a secret, they were nearly inseparable. 

"Loki wait!" Ingrid cried, laughing and dashing after him into the garden through the iron gates. The hedges were high above her head as she ran through the narrow pathways. He was taller, older, and much faster than her, turning corners and cutting through thresholds. Her young eyes widened as glittery green sparkles brushed past her, and he disappeared from her sight. She slowed to a stop, panting slightly and glancing around for any sign of him. She listened for the pounding of his feet on the ground, but she heard nothing. Only the evening wind rustled the leaves. "Loki?" she whispered hesitantly. She scampered lightly over the fallen leaves and grass. "Loki?" she called, turning the corner of the hedge, her hand carefully brushing over the smooth leaves. 

She felt the atmosphere shift around her, she glanced around and smirked. "Is this one of your games again?" she asked a bit louder. 

"It is," he whispered, and she spun around. She gazed perplexed at the vacant space behind her. "Find me," once again she could have sworn he was right over her shoulder. 

"And if I don't?" she inquired boldly, swaying as she began to stroll through the towering hedges, a smile pulling at her lips.  

"I think I shall be heartbroken," she heard his voice fain a tone of hurt. She giggled, tossing her gaze up to the tops of the hedges. The stars gleamed overhead, but she saw no sign of him. 

"God of Mischief heartbroken... an unlikely story," she quipped. She felt the air around her move again, and she knew he was close by. 

"I would like to keep it that way," she heard his voice clearer as she blushed. 

"You could at least give me a clue..." she smiled, clasping her hands behind her back as she swayed from side to side through the narrow pathways. 

"You don't need one, my dear," she could hear the smile on his face. Her eyes widened as the atmosphere shifted yet again. She felt her heartbeat race, the sound drumming in her ear. "I'm here," he said, and she turned to face him. There he was, dressed in casual green and black, a smirk gracing his features. She narrowed her eyes, watching him intently. 

"No..." she matched his grin. "You're not," and with a wave of her hand, she watched the duplicate disappear in a glimmer of gold. Her smile grew as she turned back to the winding path. She felt her magic grow stronger with each step forward, like it was leading her to him. 

This magnetic pull brought her to one of the main fountains of the garden. The path circled it gracefully as the hedges moved away in an intricate pattern. She stepped carefully around the fountain, her fingertips grazing the rough stone. Suddenly she stopped, facing a particular pathway. "Found you," she beamed. 

"Almost Darling," she yelped, turning to find him standing directly beside her. "You're becoming quite impressive," he eyed her with kind eyes. 

"Am I?" she asked. 

"Yes," he took his hand in hers, turning it over gently as he studied it. "You're a quick learner," She looked away, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks again. She glanced carefully back to him, enticed by the way he gazed at her. "You promised a lesson," she said softly. 

"I did. What do you wish to know?" 

"Can you teach me to fight?" Ingrid asked eagerly. She watched his eyes narrow slightly, eyeing her skeptically. "Please?" 

"Why would you wish to learn combat?" he asked, his head tilted gently to the side. 

"Loki you know they don't teach it at the Academy! I'm ready, am I not?" she pleaded. 

"You are," he agreed. "You do understand there is more to combat than magic?" and she nodded quickly. "Very well. Show me what you do know," he stepped back. She faltered slightly, unsure how to stand or what was the first move. She shifted into a stance she found reasonable and he laughed. 

"Stop it!" she cried. "Come on, Loki!" 

"Alright," he stifled a laugh, "Do you trust me?" he asked, taking a stance of his own. She saw the chaotic glint in his eye, realizing this may have been a mistake. However, she nodded, refusing to quit now. She gasped as his daggers appeared in his hands. He stepped forward quickly. Within seconds she was pressed against the stone fountain with a blade to her throat. Her hand was wrapped tightly around his wrist and her tiptoes barely grazed the grass below her. Dark emerald eyes stared into her. "Right, we'll start from the beginning," he smirked, settling her back down on the grass. "Are you alright?" 

She glared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding, a hand over her throat protectively. Shivers of fear still rattled through her body. "First," he said softly, "You need a stronger stance. Here," he placed a hand on her shoulder, the other on her waist. "Keep your torso straight, widen your stance," he gently kicked her feet out further. "Good, now conjure a weapon," and she looked up at him in confusion. "It's just like you've practiced before," he encouraged her. His hand glided down to her own. She focused, but gasped as a warm glow appeared. As it faded, a long dagger rested in her palm. 

They practiced that over and over, until she had a headache and he was finally satisfied with her progress. Nevertheless, she was proud and pleased under the starlight with him. Loki watched her stare up at the glittering black sky as he sunk to the cool grass. "Darling," he called to her. She glanced down at him, that whimsical smile lingering over her lips. He held a hand out to her and she took it with a small smirk. He pulled her playfully down to the grass beside him and she let out an unbecoming laugh. He beamed at her as she covered her mouth with embarrassment. "How is the Academy?" he asked as she settled against the fountain next to him. 

"It's fine," she sighed. "I'm expected to start my sentence of servitude at the Palace soon," she mentioned cautiously as she felt his eyes on her. 

"I look forward to seeing you," 

"Do you really, my Prince?" she asked teasingly, though a part of her truly longed to know. Would things be different inside the palace walls? He stared at her for a long second. Her grin fell slowly, what was he going to say? 

"Yes Ingrid," he smiled, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. She smiled in return, allowing her gaze to shift to the swaying grass in front of her. 

"How are things?" she asked, toying with the fabric of her simple blue dress. "In the Palace?" she watched his features falter slightly, but he didn't move away, nor did he dismiss her. He never did. 

"My father..." he sighed. He looked directly into her eyes as he smiled. "He and Thor have been at odds again, so I've been spending more time with Mother," 

"She loves spending time with you. She talks about you sometimes, just small things," Ingrid smiled, and she watched a bashful blush creep over his neck. 

She was surprised as his lips turned up into a smirk. "She says kind things about you as well," he looked at her with kind eyes. She could see the exhaustion of his days finally seeping through. She shook her head, smiling up at him. They sat in silence together, simply enjoying each other's company under the stars. 

"Tell me about them," she whispered, gazing up at the galaxies. She relaxed further as he spoke to her of the nine realms like he had a thousand times before. Her head fell unto his chest as he habitually threaded his fingers through her hair. 

Ingrid sighed, opening her eyes as she looked up at the stained glass windows, the light outside fading. She lowered her gaze to the rippling water over her chest. A soft glow appeared beneath the water's surface. As she raised her hand to the surface of the pool, a dagger materialized into her palm. The water glistening off the blade in thinning droplets. It was one of her happiest memories but not the first of him. Nor the first of them together as so much more than friends, but barely lovers.

And what are we now? she asked herself. Nothing had changed what they were. Even as her boldness and his mischief were dimmed by their new positions with maturing age. Not even the walls of the Palace had broken their trust in each other. Some nights when he called her counsel, she felt it was anything but broken. However, they stayed walking that thin line between friend and lover. Where is that line now? Where is that trust? 

She needed to speak with him. She needed to know what was going on in his head. In his heart? Knowing Loki, it was so clearly a scheme in one way or another. But Ingrid couldn't see why. How could this be a game? For once, she found herself on the other side of his tricks. In the dark, without a single indication of what was to come. Or was it completely his father's doing? Why marriage? If Odin wished to keep her visions unknown, wouldn't he want to keep her as far away from his son as possible?

Ingrid had wrapped herself in a more intimate, bronze gold robe that hung snugly off her shoulders and clasped below her collarbone. She held the robe tight to her body. Her fingers tangled in its soft, pooling fabric. She didn't know for how long she had sat on the balcony. She had watched the sun dip below the horizon and the galaxies above grow brighter.

She waited for the Queen to return as she promised she would. Ingrid would not sleep until they had spoken again. That she promised herself. She was startled when Mistress Astrid arrived with her dinner, but grateful. Though she wasn't hungry, she was more than relieved to be given a small bottle of wine. After Astrid left with a kind reminder of the Queen's words, Ingrid popped the cork off and began to drink straight from the bottle.

She stared up at the stars as memories flooded her head. It was in the dead hours of the morning when Queen Frigga finally arrived. Ingrid never heard a knock, nor a footstep on the dark marbled floor. Rather she felt she wasn't alone. Even with the alcohol sedating her senses and suspense, she could feel another presence near her. She stood, turning slowly back to the main chamber with the wine bottle tucked firmly in her grip. 

"Ingrid," Frigga called from the foot of the bed. "Come sit my child," she said softly into the silent air. Ingrid moved to her quietly, seating herself beside the kind woman. The wine bottle clinked slightly as it settled on the hard floor. Ingrid's numbed brown eyes met hers as Frigga took her cold hands in her own. "I know how to get you out," she said carefully. She watched something unknown linger in Ingrid's eyes. 

"You- you mean..." she trailed off as Frigga nodded. 

"In a month from now," Frigga told her. "I shall tell you more as the night approaches,"

Ingrid groaned deeply as the drapes were pulled away from the balcony. The sunlight blinded her and she turned away, pushing herself stiffly from the bed. "What time is it?" she mumbled, feeling the fuzzy dizziness disperse from her head. 

"Late morning my child," Ingrid glanced up, hearing Mistress Astrid's kind voice. Ingrid clutched the bronze robe closer to her chest as she looked about the bedroom. Her room she reminded herself, but still, it seemed far too surreal to live in a place so regal. She saw Mistress Astrid preparing a gown, she smiled as she walked closer to Ingrid helping her gently from the bed. "How do you feel today?" she asked. 

"Gods..." Ingrid began. "I..." she looked at Astrid, without an idea what to say or how she felt. 

"It's alright," Astrid sighed, smiling sweetly at her. "Let's get you ready," she coaxed her from the bronze robe. 

"Thank you," Ingrid smiled at her in the mirror, as she started to tighten the laces of her bodice. Layer by layer the white gown was donned upon her. 

"My pleasure," Astrid smiled, a small twinkle in her fading hazel eyes. "Your hair, would you like-" she began to pull the long curls up, and Ingrid placed a gentle hand on her arm. 

"Can I please keep it down today?" she pleaded gently. She saw Astrid hesitate, but with a pitying sigh, she agreed. 

"And the armband?" Astrid asked. 

"Yes please," Ingrid replied and she grimaced at her own eager words, still torn between quiet anger and faithful confusion at the thought of Loki. She eyed the emerald-eyed-snakes as Astrid allowed her hands to fall at her sides and step away. 

Once she was ready, Astrid lead her through the Palace. She watched as people around her eyed her with curiosity and suspicion. Perhaps some even recognized her. She wondered how peculiar it may seem to them to see a servant in highly noble attire. She bowed her head, avoiding some the more critical stares as they approached one of the Queen's council rooms. 

"My Queen," Astrid announced Ingrid's presence. Ingrid smiled as her gaze settled on Frigga. "Lady Hilda," she heard Astrid say and she turned to face a larger woman with graying, chestnut hair. She recognized the woman as one of Frigga's closer counsels, just as Ingrid once was. She smiled at the woman, but it soon faded as she watched the woman's eyes harden slightly. 

"Thank you, Mistress Astrid," Frigga beamed, moving toward Ingrid. She rested a kind hand on her shoulder and presented her to Lady Hilda. "Ingrid, Lady Hilda will be training you for your duties as Princess," Ingrid's eyes widened at her words. As Princess, she repeated in her mind. Not for long, she reminded herself. A month, only a month. Ingrid smiled politely as Frigga spoke. "Lady Hilda will teach you everything you need to know," and with that, Ingrid was left alone in the large room with the plump, older woman. 

"Well..." Lady Hilda started with a hesitant smile, examining the young woman before her. "Let's start at the beginning! We have a lot of work ahead of us!" she grabbed onto Ingrid's arm and began to drag her along.

Ingrid spent most of her time in the company of Lady Hilda for the next two days. She was taught how to stand, how to dress, how to speak, when to speak, what to say, and most importantly how to behave. The intensity of the woman's gaze never left her and never gave her an ounce of mercy. Ingrid could see in her eyes how it pained her to teach a servant the duties of a princess. "Again," she would order. Every curtsy, every smile, and every movement was performed to perfection. 

Every time Lady Hilda stopped her, scolded her, Ingrid found herself looking toward the hallway, hoping for a glimpse of Loki. She wanted to speak with him, needed to speak with him. She needed to know why. Her training went on from the crack of dawn to late into the night. She ate breakfast long before the sun rose and cold dinners hours after the Banquet halls were emptied. Each muscle in her body ached deeply. Especially after practicing how to dance for hours into the night. 

"Count!" Lady Hilda demanded as Ingrid lightly and fluidly danced through the large ballroom alone. Her hands held out before as she imagined her partner moving with her. "You need to be less stiff!" she heard her cry, but Ingrid shut her eyes trying to focus. The more she concentrated on the dance, on the movement, her partner, the image of Loki dancing with her... the more she found herself set adrift in her emotions. "No! You're far too emotional!" she heard Lady Hilda howl. "Stop! Just stop!" Ingrid sighed, dropping her hands immediately and running them through her hair. "Again! Count! Move freely and with dignity!" she demanded and Ingrid began the dance again. 

"Move freely and with dignity!" Lady Hilda hollered to the young princes waltzing through the grand palace ballroom. Ingrid stood by the Queen who watched with an amused smirk as Thor deliberately thudded around and Loki stood with a rather jaded, but entertained expression, his hands clasped behind his back. Ingrid bit back her smirk as Lady Hilda tried and failed to instruct the young men as they continued to banter and jest. 

"Lady Hilda if I may interject..." Frigga began, the young princes quieted almost immediately at their mother's voice. "I'd like to speak to you and my son, Thor privately for a moment," Frigga eyed her two sons thoughtfully. 

"Yes, of course, my Queen!" Lady Hilda immediately responded. Ingrid watched Thor's smile fall epically from his face as a smirk graced Loki's elegant features. Frigga smiled kindly as she waited for Thor and the red-faced woman to leave the grand ballroom. 

"Loki," she said softly. 

"Yes, mother?" he turned to her promptly. 

"Continue practicing with Lady Ingrid please," Frigga said with a mischievous twinkle in her bright blue eyes. Ingrid felt herself begin to blush, she wasn't sure if it was from the use of her title or the request of the Queen. As she met Loki's equally surprised gaze, the blush deepened.

For a moment after Frigga left, both of them stood incredibly still. She saw his eyes soften slowly and then harden into a look similar to his mother's. Her surprise melted slightly into panic as a sly smile crept across his face. He walked up to her slowly. Her breath was caught in her throat as he bowed like a gentleman with his hand offered to her. "May I have this dance my dear?" he asked with a tone tainted with mischief.

She dared to look anywhere but at him, her fingers tangled in the fabric of her simple dress. Before she could answer, he looked up at her with an impish gaze. "You're supposed to say yes," he smiled, and hesitantly she placed her small hand in his larger one. She watched his smile widen as he pulled her gently to the center of the ballroom. He guided her hand to his shoulder. "Don't be nervous," he caught her blush as his hand met her waist. 

"I don't know how to dance Loki!" she hissed as politely as possible, glancing fretfully to the large golden doors at the ends of the ballroom. 

"Then play the part, Darling," he smirked as he began to move with her across the gleaming, dance floor. She watched their feet carefully, each step slightly easier than the last. Slowly her gaze met his as he twirled her around, and she realized he'd kept his gaze focused on her the entire time. 

"So I'm dance practice?" she asked boldly, feeling her feet leave the floor as he lifted her through a spin.

"You are," he smiled with the kind green eyes she loved. "And you're marvelous," he smirked as she moved nearly effortlessly with him now. 

"How would you know?" she quipped. "You're not one for praise or bias," she stated as their pace began to slow. 

"I'm not one for sentimentality my dear," his hand left hers, sliding down to settle on her waist.

"Liar," she smirked knowingly. She rested her hand on his other shoulder as they began to sway softly. 

"Am I?" he challenged as he pulled her closer, his hands sliding to the small of her back. 

"Yes," she smiled. "Most would say your perceptive, but that is only because you are sensitive," she whispered, watching as his eyes focused sharply on her. "Sensitive is a way of being emotional... and you cannot tell me you aren't," she never faltered under his intense gaze, rather she thrived in it. She did not miss how he held her tighter. "therefore... yes, I would call you sentimental Loki," her palm came to rest on his cheek. She had never felt such a tender gaze on her before. 

"You need to be careful of whom you speak to," he warned her playfully. 

"You need to be careful of whom you dance with." 

The memory reminded her of their night after the ceremony. How he had held her then, the same when they were younger. When she was still a fairly young lady, just beginning her servitude, and he still a young prince. All these years later, she still remembered that dance just as vividly. 

Ingrid knew there was only a certain amount of annoyance Lady Hilda could take from their lessons. She was grateful to finally be dismissed. She hummed a soft tune under her breath as she swayed through the hallways, the memory still playing in her mind. 

He had never been able to lie to her. The God of Lies, she mused, and she had always been able to see right through him. It was a small pleasure, one she shared only with his mother. She smiled at the memories, each one sweeter than the last. However, the smile faded as she approached her chamber door, remembering the many doors they had hid their friendship behind. They couldn't hide anymore. Part of her wondered, what are we anymore? 

This situation was a childhood fantasy. To marry a prince, to marry a friend. Her closest friend. After all these years since she began her servitude, since they became something else. Behind the locked doors of the palace, they continued to grow, and so did their relationship. They had become something more than friends, but barely lovers. In the blink of an eye, they had crossed that line... and fallen into this? The King had decreed this? Did Loki want this? She needed to know. What happened after she fled that night... 

Ingrid gasped as she heard footsteps marching down the hallway. She quietly scrambled inside her chamber, closing the door as softly as she could behind her. "My Prince! The Engagement Ball is tomorrow! The wedding is in a month!" she heard Lord Halvor exclaim. 

"Then you need to do better!" she jumped back as she heard Loki's voice snarl. "She shouldn't be confined to her chambers with an exception to her lessons!" 

"My Prince, it is Allfather's command," Lord Halvor responded calmly. 

"She is my wife!" Loki roared. 

"She will be... my Prince," she could almost feel Loki's anger seething. Had he asked for this? Did he want this? My wife! his words echoing deafeningly in her head. She felt her heart race as she listened for his answer. My wife! she gasped at the words. She froze, feeling Loki's attention shift toward her. She covered her mouth to muffle her erratic breathing. 

"Very well, thank you Halvor," she listened as the advisor's footsteps faded away. Then, she listened for his. As he approached the small space of the hallway between their chambers, she stepped further away from her chamber door. She heard him pause just outside... before opening and closing his chamber door.

Chapter Text

Ingrid looked at herself once more in the mirror. Painted lips, white gown, and emerald jewelry. The gown was modest like the others she had worn, but it suited her form well and highlighted her curves with an intricate golden design woven through the ivory, silken fabric along the long sleeves, across her hips, and over her chest. A matching cape was clasped at her collarbone and flowed over her bare shoulders to the floor. Her hair was braided grudgingly and pulled into an elegant updo. Large emerald, teardrop earrings framed her face, complimenting the centerpiece pendant that lay in the valley between her breasts, shown off by the low v-line cut. "Are you ready?" Mistress Astrid asked beside her. 

Ingrid exhaled deeply, looking away from her elaborate reflection. "I... I think so," she said hesitantly. Astrid smiled at her shyness. 

"You've prepared," she sighed, as she brushed her thumb across Ingrid's blushed cheek. "Right now, you are ready," she promised her. "You are a gorgeous suitor," Ingrid tried to smile at her kind words.

"And will I be a gorgeous wife?" she asked, her jaw tensing. She felt Astrid's hand come to rest on her shoulders as she took another shaky breath. "I don't know if I can do this... I don't know if..." 

"Just as the Queen said. Only a month," Astrid reminded her. "One month, that's all," her eyes burned into hers. Ingrid nodded, "Now, you cannot be late," Astrid led her from her chambers to the ballroom. It was similar to the Hall of Asgard and the throne room. Grand and golden and open, just smaller. A more intimate setting for the royal family as she remembered from when she was younger. Meant for hosting the highest circles of nobility as it would tonight when the betrothal was announced. It was an event Ingrid had never dreamed of participating in, never mind being the guest of honor. 

"There she is! Lady Ingrid!" she heard Lord Halvor call to her and Lady Hilda close behind him as they strutted up to her. "Thank you Mistress Astrid, we'll take it from here!" he ordered. Astrid bowed, flashing Ingrid an encouraging smile before departing. Ingrid knew servants, advisors, and counsels-- even with as high a rank as Lord Halvor and Lady Hilda had--   would not be permitted to stay while the ceremony took place. "Lady Ingrid!" 

She gasped, snapping from her thoughts and staring at Lord Halvor's red face. "This way," he said firmly. She saw Lady Hilda scold her with disapproving eyes as she followed them. They led her to the main balcony overlooking the ballroom. Stairs on either side led to the vast floor beneath them. "The Queen will escort you to the king and princes once your presence is announced," Lord Halvor pointed to the other end of the hall. "You will wait here until then,"

"How long will that be?" Ingrid asked, but he marched away, without answering her. Ingrid turned to Lady Hilda who only scowled at her. 

"Don't disappoint us," she warned, walking away as well. Ingrid's jaw clenched. Her knuckles whitened as she fisted the fabric of her dress. She sighed, standing patiently in the hallway behind the balcony. Was she truly meant to stand in the shadows until she was revealed? Guards stood on both sides of the hall, preventing her escape as if she ever had a chance. She stood for a while watching the servants run to and fro across the ballroom as they prepared. In her head, she rehearsed the steps of the ceremony, every action to be taken, every word to be spoken. She shifted from foot to foot, already growing sore in her white heels. 

"My Lady?" she heard a soft voice say. She turned to face Prince Thor with wide eyes. He was dressed in his ceremonial armor and towered easily over her. He had stepped forward into the hall and smiled as he approached her. "Would you like a chair my Lady?" he asked, standing straighter. 

"I uh, yes, yes please that would be lovely," Ingrid responded, unsure of where to look. Should she bow? Why in the world was a Prince serving her? She smiled, folding her shaking hands behind her as he turned away and she wondered where he was going. She looked out across the ballroom but didn't see him. She didn't dare move from the hallway for fear of being caught. He quickly brought her a chair which she was thankful for. He left her just as soon as he'd come. 

She sat cramped in the chair, her gown flowing out around her, but she wouldn't complain. She could hear the servants dispersing, she watched them scurry from the room. Her eyes widened as she watched the first guests enter. She heard Prince Thor and Queen Frigga greet them. She gasped as they moved closer. Frigga's gown was similar to the one she'd worn at the Midsummer Ceremony. Golden, pristine, and exquisitely regal. She wondered who the guests were, but as more entered she found herself entranced by the event. It was the most elaborate, gorgeous celebration she'd ever seen.

She leaned forward as the crowd below quieted. She jumped as she heard the sound of Odin's staff on the floor. "Dear friends," his voice boomed off the walls. "Thank you for coming to this most joyous occasion. We have invited you all here to announce my son, Prince Loki has chosen a suitor for marriage," he paused and the room erupted in applause. Ingrid froze at his words, every thought, every fear came flooding back to her. Much of the noise drained from her head as her pulse pounded in her ears. She gripped the arms of her chair, her nails digging into the hardwood. Her breathing became shallow as she felt like stone, unable to move, almost unable to breathe at the sound of the King's voice. 

"Ingrid?" Frigga shook her from her thoughts and she turned to stare at the Queen with wide eyes full of fear as she jumped from her chair. "Are you ready my child?" she asked softly.

"I... I've never done this... I'm not... I'm not a noble... I'm not a lady," Ingrid stammered. 

"You are a lady," Frigga placed her hands gently on her shoulders. Ingrid tried to steady herself and nodded slowly, letting out a wavered breath "And you will do beautifully Ingrid," she whispered firmly with a proud smile across her lips. Though Ingrid didn't truly believe her, she knew her only choice was to play the part. For now at least. Ingrid nodded again stronger this time, strangling the panic that tried to overpower her. She stood tall, holding her head high as the Allfather announced her presence. 

Ingrid stepped forward onto the balcony, the eyes of the crowd fell silently upon her in utter awe. At the end of the hall, she could see the Allfather and princes. Loki's eyes fell on her along with everyone else. His lips parted as he took in her absolute beauty. She took a deep breath as she turned and walked gracefully down the stairs. The crowd parted for her and Frigga. Ingrid heard her pulse pound in her head as she stepped closer to them. Her actions becoming conditioned as she grew numb to the situation. She could feel Loki's emerald eyes on her, but her gaze was fixed on Odin, fear flowing like blood through her veins. 

Ingrid stopped before the few stairs which led to where the Allfather stood, looking over the room. Frigga took her place beside her husband and sons, encouraging her with a kind smile. Ingrid bowed gracefully, remembering the steps of the ceremony as her eyes trained anxiously on the golden floor beneath. 

"Rise," she heard Odin's voice boom. She rose slowly and elegantly, standing tall with a placid face as she'd been taught, hiding the storm that lurked behind. She met his powerful gaze, unable to look away. "Loki, my son," he said softer. Loki stepped forward and down the stairs to stand directly before her, blocking her view of his father. A thousand eyes were on her, but at that moment she could only feel his. A bizarre, overwhelming sensation filled her. She had never seen him like this so close, striking in green, gold, and black. As a prince, not a friend. He stood before her unfazed, unchallenged, and she stood as his suitor. "I, Odin Allfather give you my blessing for marriage," 

She didn't dare speak, but she saw something ignite in the depths of his emerald eyes. A faint glimmer she'd seen before in him grew brighter. She felt faint as he leaned forward, his hand gently at the back of her head and lips against hers. Every horrible feeling of dread was nullified in those few moments. She felt ashamed at the relief she felt and even deeper guilt for the thrill of emotion it gave her. 

The crowd cheered behind her as applause filled the hall, but it seemed drowned out. The subdued panic in her body lingered as he pulled away slowly. His eyes shined with an emotion she couldn't place. His hand fell to her waist and a wide smile brightened his features as they turned to face the crowd. The cheers were deafening as she returned to her senses. 

She could hear the Allfather behind them commencing the ball. Music began to play and she felt Loki begin to lead her to the floor. The crowd parted for them and revealed a large open space in the middle of the ballroom. A part of her wanted to pull away, to stop and think. Her breath hitched as he took her hand in his, the other on her waist. He nodded so slightly that she thought she'd imagined it, but she realized the patiently eager atmosphere around them. She tentatively placed a delicate hand on his shoulder, her fingertips resting on the cool armor there. 

She struggled to relax as the music began to play. She looked anywhere but at him, even as the eyes of the crowd haunted her. She focused on her training, on each step. Each one needed to be perfect. A part of her yearned to look up at him, but her gaze stayed transfixed on the armor above his collarbone. Don't disappoint us the voice boomed in her head. She felt her sore jaw clench as he moved her along the dance floor. 

Every move felt natural, but that intuition clashed with the anxiety that bubbled beneath her skin. He was there, holding her, dancing with her, his eyes on her. Play the part Darling, his voice sounded in her head. "Look at me," he said firmly, so quietly she almost hadn't heard it. She gasped as her feet left the floor and he spun her around. Their eyes finally met. She was entranced by what she saw. Pure affection in his emerald eyes and soft smile. She was breathless as she stared up at him. Everything faded into the background and she was lost in his presence. 

Toward the end of the dance, she felt him pull her closer. A blush blossomed over her skin. They slowed, ending with a polite bow to each other. She smiled sincerely as she rose, catching a glimpse of happiness and adoration in his features. His hand rested softly against her cheek as he whispered with a smirk "You look stunning my dear," 

"Loki... I-" she stammered, gasping as couples and nobles started to approach them. She was startled as he pulled her protectively to his side. One after another, they were approached by the high nobles of the nine realms for blessings and good wishes. Ingrid knew she was only meant to smile, nod, and say thank you at the very most. 

It must have gone on for hours; the introductions, the mannerism, the politics of the prospect of a new princess. Ingrid was thoroughly sick of it. Her feet ached, her stomach panged, and her anxiety ate away at her. She could feel Loki's gaze wander back to her now and then, but it didn't fill her with the clarity it usually did. She felt the overwhelming resentment inside her begin to claw its way out. Even at his side, it seemed he was worlds away, nonchalantly conversing with those who were completely foreign to her. In a place and occasion which was completely foreign to her. The Prince's betrothed... is that all she was now? Did that still mean friend? Did that now mean lover? And why? How? What could ever be the purpose of this? She didn't know. Behind those green eyes, she had no idea what he was thinking. It was the most conflicting feeling she knew. To be in the dark. His dark. It was that fear she hated most of all. This wasn't all Odin's doing, it couldn't be. 

She couldn't stay, she wouldn't stay. One month. One month, she told herself. Just one. Just make it through the night, but with every dance, every touch, she was reminded how deeply she cared for him and how habitually she had once disregarded that feeling. How she had once hoped he shared that fondness. She felt that hope reigniting with the way he stared at her, and it was tormenting. His touch was corruptive. Kind and firm like she had always known him to be. Her head ached painfully at the conflictive thoughts. 

Under Odin's gaze, she felt like prey at a banquet table. Prized and prepared. Under Loki's, for once she truly didn't know what she was. A friend, certainly. She had always been. But a suitor? A wife? She is my wife! She felt her body run cold as she glanced up at the towering prince beside her. Was she as much Loki's prey as Odin's? 

Ingrid was able to pry herself away from Loki's side and through the throng of onlookers. She found a smaller-than-she-wanted glass of wine which soothed her disturbing emotions. She hid behind a pillar on the outskirts of the grand ballroom near the huge, open windows. Few had gathered nearby and she felt as removed as possible from the spectacle behind her. She watched Loki over her shoulder, smiling and laughing with his brother as Thor congratulated him yet again. She sighed at how content he seemed. Did this truly make him that happy? She leaned against the pillar, turning to face the vast golden city before her. 

She sighed as the late-night wind billowed through her skirts and cape. She closed her eyes, savoring the simple peace of being alone. She felt a pang of sorrow as she realized she may be looking out across a city she might never walk through again. 

"Isn't she gorgeous? I've never seen her before! Lady Ingrid must be from a wealthy family!" she heard someone marvel and she stiffened at the approaching voice. She heard the clicking of two pairs of heels against the marbled floor.

"I assure you she's not," the other responded. Ingrid recognized the impishly cruel voice. Her eyes widened as the two women speaking appeared in sight. Lady Amora and another noblewoman strolled closer to the window ledge. 

"Oh no?" the noblewoman asked, desperate for gossip. Ingrid shrunk further into the pillar's shadows, watching them carefully. 

"No!" Amora giggled. "Let me tell you... the reason she wears white isn't that she's a virgin. She's a servant! She's been Loki's whore for years now..." Ingrid nearly choked at her words. Her body tensed as the color drained from her face.

"Ingrid?" she faintly heard behind her. She turned to see Frigga eyeing her with concern. "Come, you look quite pale," Frigga took her by the arm, leading her back to the gathering. Ingrid could see the crowd was growing thinner and dances were slowing. Ingrid recognized the path to Thor and Loki and did her best to appear pleasant, despite how painful it was becoming. "Loki, my son!". 

"Yes, Mother?" Ingrid watched Loki's eyes widen at her unsettled appearance. 

"I think it would be wise for you and Lady Ingrid to retire for the night," Frigga suggested in a firm, but polite manner. Loki didn't question her as he took Ingrid's arm and Frigga moved toward Thor.

"Is everything alright?" Thor asked. Ingrid nodded as Frigga distracted him, sending Loki and her on their way. Guards accompanied them through the halls toward their chambers. Ingrid was more than grateful for Frigga, some of the weight falling from her chest. However, Amora's words still lingered on her mind in a torturous cycle. She could tell his eyes are on her, cautiously observing her. She'd felt that feeling many times before in states of distress. Never had it unnerved her so much as it did at that moment. She didn't dare to say a word until they were alone. 

"This will do," Loki dismissed the guards, watching them disappear down the long hall before returning his attention to her. "Ingrid, what’s wrong?" he asked in a comforting, but firm tone she knew well. Her rage was burning below the surface and she didn't trust herself to speak. 

"Why is this... why is this happening Loki?" she asked earnestly, searching his startled eyes for an honest answer. He inhaled deeply before sighing, staring into her perfectly dark brown eyes. 

"I want to marry you," several emotions swirled in his eyes. 

"Why?" 

"Ingrid, I-"

"No! Tell me why." she stepped forward, daring him to lie. She saw the look in his eye darken. "What did you do?" she whispered desperately. 

"I asked the Allfather for your hand in marriage," he confessed, watching her eyes widen.

"And tell me why he allowed it." her teeth were bared as she anticipated his next words. "I am servant Loki," she reminded him of the harsh reality. "The Allfather would have never allowed it. Tell me why he did," she demanded in a quiet, bruised voice. 

"I would have your hand in marriage in exchange for your sight as his Oracle," he finally admitted with a vacant expression. She gasped, stepping back as though she'd been struck, gazing at him in horror. He witnessed a wildfire of wrath spread through her body. 

"How could you!" she seethed, that haunting look in her eye.

"I will protect you." He stepped forward, reaching for her. 

"Don't you dare! Protect me! Protect me by sentencing me to death! Is that protection to you!" she yelled. 

"Don't speak to me like that!" he growled at her, grabbing her by her wrist and pulling her against him.

"You are selfish!" she screamed, thrashing against him. 

"Enough!" he forced her to the wall, holding her down. She stared into his cruel features. His teeth bared and eyes aflame. His hand was placed securely against the column of her neck. "You will marry me... and if you don't, if you leave, he will kill you! You know that!" he pleaded with her. "Your only chance is to stay here at my side. Ingrid, you have no other option!" he felt her tremble in his grip, tears streaming down her cheeks and neck, but she stared into him with raw power, challenging his control with those perfectly haunting eyes. 

"Must everything be a game to you?"

Chapter Text

Ingrid stood alone near the edge of the garden along the looming hedges. A glass of wine was held protectively in her grasp. She watched the nobles around her laugh and talk. Servants at work in simple white dresses, much different than the gown she wore now. She saw the alarm in their eyes when she thanked them; perhaps they could see the alarm in hers when they served her. 

She was walking through a world as someone she wasn't. At least as someone she couldn't believe herself to be, couldn't bring herself to be. Memories of the fight, the ball, the kiss, and everything before didn't sense to her anymore. It had all spiraled out of control too quickly. It was like she was thrown into battle, without a weapon or shield. She gripped her glass tighter as her sore jaw clenched. She felt the familiar dull pangs of pain and forced herself to relax, taking a long sip of wine. 

She could feel the eyes of the other guests examining her. She glanced through the crowd, searching for a familiar face not dressed in a white dress. Frigga was not in attendance at the garden party, which diminished any hope for Ingrid to feel remotely at ease. She turned her gaze back to the uneven ground, but quickly brought it back to the gathering with a shy smile as she remembered Lady Hilda's words. Do not appear reserved, the throne will do that for you.

These social sessions were another part of her training and assimilation to royal life. Palace life. Noble life. The world she grew up in and never once had she belonged to. She had always returned to her small home after her days in the Palace. Returned to the common people of the city. Now, she wasn't allowed that luxury. 

She turned, startled, toward a burst of laughter, Thor no doubt at the center. She couldn't help but feel a stir of jealousy at how he seemed to glow under the attention. However, she reminded herself to be grateful. He was practically lapping up the attention, allowing her to return to the shadows of the garden hedges undisturbed. He beamed with a grin larger than any she's seen, well almost. She supposed trademark smiles ran in the family and stifled an unbecoming snort. 

"Lady Ingrid!" a voice greeted her joyfully. "What a pleasure to meet you!" Ingrid's eyes widened as a beautiful, blonde woman bowed to her. 

"Oh there's no ne-" Ingrid was quickly alarmed by the numerous noblewomen approaching her. 

"You must tell us how you met the Prince!" the blonde demanded, giddy with a smile and matching giggle. Ingrid felt her jaw lock in place. 

"Yes! How did you meet my Lady?!" another urged beside her. She felt the noblewoman wrap her arm in hers, dragging her stiffly along through the garden.

"I uh, well..." Ingrid stammered.

"He's such a dark and alluring man!" one exclaimed, and Ingrid felt her chest clench at the description. That wasn't how she would describe Loki, at least not only with those words. 

"We- we have known each other a long time," she finally managed, sedating their curious glances. The women around her exclaimed in sweet, sickening high pitches. 

"He's been courting you for a long time then?!" the blonde woman beside her asked eagerly.

"He must have been!"  

"I- Well, no. It just-" the panic was leaving her breathless. 

"How long has your romance been spurring my Lady?" Ingrid flinched at the harsh force of a familiar voice. She met Amora's gaze in an instant. Her naturally coy blue eyes moved over her easily. "I don't believe I had ever even seen you before the Engagement?" she lied casually, head tilted delicately to the side. The noblewomen around them fell silent. "Though, I've heard his bed is quite a comfortable place to be," Amora sneered, gasps and looks of awe surrounded them. "However, I don't think you'd know, would you? A woman of virtue after all," she grinned wickedly, gesturing to Ingrid's modest white gown. "Only the best for the Princes," her eyes darkened, brimming with envy "I would have thought-"

"Lady Ingrid!" a booming voice called. Thor strode gallantly to them. "May I have a word?" 

"Yes, yes of course my Prince," Ingrid replied immediately. 

He nodded to the noblewomen, many of whom returned it with a bow. "My Lady?" he held his hand out to her which she took at once. Ingrid sighed heavily as they walked away from the cluster of women. "Are you alright?" Thor asked kindly, gazing down at her with warm, sky blue eyes. 

"Yes my Prince, thank you," she smiled back. 

"I remember when I was younger. Garden parties weren't always my favorite ordeal," he admitted, waving his large hands in animation. She laughed politely with him as her mind wandered back to Amora's words. I've heard his bed is quite a comfortable place to be. It wouldn't surprise her if Amora knew firsthand what it truly was like. She felt her jaw clench at the thought, earning a wince from her fatigued muscles. "I know this must be overwhelming," his strong voice broke  through her thoughts easily. 

"It is," she lowered her gaze to the uneven ground beneath her. 

"You need not fear my Lady," he beamed at her. "You're strong, far stronger than any of those women," Ingrid wasn't sure what to say, suddenly wishing he was a bit quieter. "I say that honestly," he added, and she felt compelled to meet his ignorantly optimistic gaze. 

"Thank you, my Prince," 

"Thor," he corrected her as they reached the edge of the garden, facing the glowing city. 

"Ingrid," she stated boldly, turning to face him as she began to relax in his presence. 

For several days after the ball, Ingrid was pleased to be ordered to her chambers. She only left for tutoring, etiquette, social gatherings, and training sessions, some of which she solely looked forward to for Frigga's company and perhaps Thor now. Since the Ball, Ingrid hadn't sought out company from anyone, not that she truly could to begin with. Least of all from Loki, despite how he had tried and failed to capture her attention in the days preceding the Ball and the night that followed. 

It was not her first time seeing Loki enraged. He did not terrify her like he did the other servants. Perhaps the only thing that unnerved her were his words. I will protect you. She shook her head, sighing. "Is everything alright my Lady?" Astrid asked, pulling back slightly. 

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Sorry," Ingrid smiled wearily at the motherly, older woman. Ingrid sat at her vanity as Astrid settled the emerald pendant over her chest. She grimaced slightly at its lovely color. It was incredibly striking against the white fabric of her gown. The gown was incredibly modest, covering her skin from head to toe. Many of her gowns had been modest since the marriage was decreed, but this was extreme. 

"My lady, your counsel with the King is today," Astrid told her, as she did whenever she had engagements. Ingrid nodded, anticipating the words before they had been said. The King had demanded counsel with her shortly after the Ball, apparently to discuss Your new role as Princess Lord Halvor had said. As Oracle you mean, she corrected him silently. 

"Is that all for today?" she asked politely. 

"Prince Loki has requested your presence this afternoon again," 

"Tell him I'm unavailable," Ingrid decided curtly. 

"Yes my Lady. The guards will be here shortly," Astrid smiled with a small look of encouragement. 

"Thank you, Mistress Astrid," Ingrid said in a small voice. Astrid bowed and turned to go, leaving the young woman lost in thought in her chambers. 

There was a constant feeling of resentment through her body, a constant feeling of heat on her flesh. In many ways, Ingrid simply couldn't bring herself to see Loki, much less speak to him. The lonely emotion of betrayal had never bled into their relationship. To feel it alive and well every time she thought of him made her nauseous. The constant anger left her body with a dull ache.

He was selfish, perfidious, and foolish. Arranging a marriage- bargaining for marriage- even after she'd rejected him. Using her abilities as a means to secure her in a marriage she wanted no part in. Almost no part in, she cursed herself. Not like this, she had never wanted it like this. He was idiotically impulsive to believe he could protect her from Odin. She knew full well, he could not. 

"My Lady?" a guard asked, standing on the threshold of her bedroom door. "We're here to escort you to the King," he said politely. 

She stared at him for a moment before regaining her composure. "Yes, of course," she stood hurriedly, glancing back once more to her disdainfully beautiful reflection. 

The walk to the King's war room seemed unbearably long. Her palms grew sweaty and her pulse rang in her ears. Ingrid began to question where she was being taken as her recognition of the halls faded. She stiffened as they walked through the dungeons, prying eyes on her as they passed each cell. They approached a wide, large door that towered over them. She watched intrigued as the guards gave a signal for the door to open. 

Slowly it swung on its large, creaking hinges. Ingrid squinted as the sunlight rushed in, tentatively moving with the guards through the threshold. She gasped at what she saw. The executioner stood over the quivering body of a newly beheaded prisoner. His head and body were only bridged by a widening pool of black-blue blood. "Lady Ingrid, my King," she heard the guard announce, a quiet sound in the back of her head. The heavy clink and clunk of armor followed as the guards bowed and left. 

"I pray you are well, my child," Ingrid's chest heaved once or twice as she tore her round eyes from the corpse. Odin stood a few feet from her, eyeing her closely. 

"I am, my King," she responded, refusing to let her voice waver. "What did you wish to speak to me about?" She was determined to end the conversation quickly. 

"Your duties when you become Princess," she watched his expression change. Darkness creeping over it as his blue eye glinted in the sunlight. "Did Loki tell you of the premise of your betrothal?" he began to circle her in slow, agonizing steps that matched the pronunciation of his words. 

"He did, my King," her jaw clenched. 

"Good," she heard him say with a kinder tone. Her head turned cautiously closer to her shoulder, gazing behind her. "My sons have their duties as Princes. Duties which they perform very well. You will do the same as Princess," he warned with a fatherly and grave voice. Her head turned to the other shoulder, following his voice. 

"I am to be your Oracle," she stated boldly, her fear manifesting into rage.

"You are," he walked into her view. "My son made a bargain for your hand in marriage in exchange for your sight. I can't say I'm disappointed. Your visions have always been truthful and strong," she felt unable to move, helpless under his gaze. A sickening feeling boiled in her stomach. Her visions of Loki, possessed by rage... were they true? Her fingers fisted tightly in the fabric of her dress. She couldn't help but wonder what else Loki told him, what else he and his father knew. If you leave he will kill you. Ingrid glanced down at the sullen corpse in front of her. Did they know? "You will serve us well in the Palace for many years to come. Won't you?" he stared into her. She glanced swiftly between him and the corpse, demoralized beneath his gaze. 

"Yes, my King,"

Ingrid sat on the large sofa of her chamber's main room. The fire pit in the center breathed with life as the flames licked at the fresh wood. The heat soothed the damp skin of her shoulders as she brushed her long, wild curls. The evening was beginning to descend upon the city, the sky turning deep indigo outside the open doors of her balcony. The golden walls and blue drapes around her began to glow a soft burned color, as the sun's light slowly faded from the room. 

She sighed heavily, leaning back against the firm furniture. Her muscles were loosened from her bath but her mind was not, and as she replayed the events of the day, she could feel that sought-after tranquility slipping from her bones yet again. The image of the beheaded corpse, the sheer white brightness of the outside light, and the dark pooling of blood mere inches from her feet. You will serve us well in the Palace for many years to come... Won't you? She shuddered, her chest clenching as she struggled to inhale. Her hairbrush dropped to the floor with a loud clang! 

She picked it up carefully, pulling it into her lap and brushing her hand lightly down the soft fabric of her simple dress. She smiled at it slightly. It had seemed so silly to ask for a simple garment. It felt so silly to ask for anything. The expectation of nobility; of jewelry, braided hair, and fitted gowns. But was it so silly? She glanced down at her upper arm, the emerald snake eyes gleaming under the firelight. When was the last time she had taken it off? 

Regardless of how angry, how scared, or how betrayed she felt, she didn't want to take it off. And what did that mean? Ingrid grimaced, sighing as her jaw tightened and eyes closed. She felt that surge of resentment, the one she'd become so acquainted with since the marriage announcement. She hated that small part of her who still trusted him, even after what he'd done. Wasn't that a warning? Wasn't that the cue to run and never look back? But in which direction? With him or away from him? 

A part of her still trusted him. Still... loved him? Is that what it was? Still longed stupidly to be more than a friend... the part of her that had never truly accepted that plain truth she had tried to convince herself of. The part of her that finally got what it wanted: love with Loki. And at what cost did that young, childish desire come with? She looked down at her hairbrush. A worn chipped and cheap wood brush with little to no value.

Once it was her mother's. Once she had watched her mother brush her hair each morning. A tattered dress wrapped around her body and bruises blossoming over her skin from her work the night before. She turned it over in her hands, trying to remember her mother's long forgotten, beautiful face. "Well mother, what do you think? I'm betrothed to the Prince," she smiled weakly. 

Perhaps she shouldn't have blamed herself for remaining faithful. Loki was her closest friend, always had been, and she knew- she was damn near certain- that she was one of Loki's closest friends. And now prospected wife. Ingrid we can, we will. The memory had a comforting, almost daunting effect.

She sighed softly, remembering the feeling of his lips against hers. Her arms wrapped around her, holding her close. I want to marry you. "Do you?" she sighed shakily, tears beginning to cloud her vision. He gave her no reason to doubt him. Everything from the words he said, to how he had looked at her, to the way he had kissed her. She knew when he was lying, and she knew he was not. 

She gasped, deeply startled as she heard a thunderous knock on her door. She stared for a second as if trying to place who it belonged to. She jumped to her feet as they knocked again. "My Lady Ingrid! It's Thor!" she heard the boisterous man announce himself. 

She turned toward the sofa and threw on a modest robe before hurrying to the door. "Thor!" she smiled at the large, beaming blonde. "What can I help you with?" she asked. 

"I didn't see you at dinner tonight," the prince smiled. "I thought you might enjoy some food and drink," her eyes widened as he held up a bottle of red wine and a loaf of bread.

"That's so kind of you," her eyes softened as she gave him a small smile. "Would you um, would you like to come in?" She opened the door wider. 

"Thank you," he followed her into her chamber's main room. 

"My apologies," she watched him set the refreshments down on the long table against the wall. "I did not realize it was so late," 

"The dry season has been quite bright this year," Thor commented, pouring two glasses of the blood-red wine. She smiled and nodded. He gently handed her a piece of bread and a glass as she settled back into the sofa. "Tell me, Ingrid," he sat next to her. "How have you been? I haven't seen you in some time," 

Ingrid nodded, sipping her wine. "I'm well," she reassured him. "And you?"

"Quite alright," he smiled foolishly, popping a piece of bread into his mouth. She giggled, looking down at her bread in her lap. "Is something on your mind?" he asked suddenly, studying her expression. 

She met his gaze briefly before returning it to her lap. "Well, there's an awful lot on my mind," she said honestly with a heavy laugh. "I would imagine it would be impossible for there to not be... considering my circumstance,". 

"I understand," he nodded. "What is it you wonder?" 

"I... I suppose it all comes back to him. In one way or another," she sighed, savoring the dark favor of the wine. 

"Loki?" she nodded at his question. He chuckled for a minute, but she saw no mockery in his face. "You need not worry about anything!" he grinned at her. 

Ingrid looked at him quizzically amused, a smirk upon her face as the man struggled to contain his booming laughter. "And why is that?" she dared to know. 

"If there were any doubts before my Lady, there are none in my family now. Loki is deeply fond of you, he always has been," Thor smiled softly at her, knowing the impact of his words. "I remember before you were younger, you two were inseparable!" he exclaimed. "I for one was delighted when I heard the news! How wonderful for you both! I had no idea that you two were courting-"

"We weren't courting Thor," she watched his smile falter and brows furrow. She chuckled, looking around the room for a moment. "Loki and I... we were never together,"

"Surely you must have been, you-"

"No," she told him firmly, his features sobering. "Thor... I was a servant here," his expression twisted, carefully evaluating each word she said. "We could never have courted." 

"But you were a student of our mother. And you are a lady," 

"I have a title, but do not mistake that for my place in society," she warned him, and after a moment of consideration, he nodded. She swallowed hard, feeling her next words build slowly. "Loki should have... chosen someone much higher in society, someone who could serve properly as a wife. Someone like... Lady Amora," she whispered her name, hating the pang of pain she felt in her chest. 

"Lady Amora?" Thor cocked his head toward her. 

"I've heard... he's courted her before," Ingrid muttered, sipping her wine. She could feel her edge dulling under its influence and for that she was grateful.

"Who have you heard this from?" Thor inquired. 

"Lady Amora," Ingrid repeated quietly, staring into the flames of the orange fire. 

"Do not trust that woman," Thor's voice hardened. "She is wanting and envious," her lips parted at the disgust written into his face. "Is that all she's been saying, Ingrid?" he asked her kindly, his blue eyes sparkling under the firelight. 

"No," she replied sadly. "She's said things... about Loki and me," she paused, unsure of what to say. 

"What things?" he encouraged her. 

"She's called me Loki's whore," Ingrid removed as much emotion as she could from her voice, but truly it was no use "Thor I... I'm just so angry," she choked, her vision blurring with tears. "I trusted him and I- I can't bring myself to see him and I know I should. I want to, I just- I don't know what to think... I'm not- I'm not sure our betrothal was the right decision," her tears trailed down her neck.  

"Amora will be corrected," Thor assured her. "Such insults will not be tolerated. As for Loki's decision..." Thor began, his arms resting on his knees as she studied the fire's flames. "My brother can be difficult at times. He doesn't always care for companionship, but he has always enjoyed yours. He had always cared deeply for you Ingrid," Thor told her. She blushed, tending delicately to her wine glass. "I believe Loki did make the right decision," he stood, returning with the wine bottle and pouring the rest. "There is no finer woman in these nine realms, and I wish you two the greatest happiness my Lady Ingrid," he raised his glass and she raised hers as well, a twinge of regret echoing in her heart. One month... they never would be happy together.

Chapter Text

Each dagger met its target perfectly, but that was to be expected. Loki pulled them one by one from the tree trunks, moving back to the open ground. He looked over the land, the late summer sun setting over the city below. He had wandered into the forests surrounding the city. He sat near the edge of the cliff of one of the closer mountains, his horse neighing softly from the tree which she was tethered to. "We'll head back soon," he sighed, looking back sweetly at his dark brown mare. He conjured an apple in his grasp and tossed it to her. 

He watched the sun cascade down the buildings. He knew he would miss dinner, not that he cared. The immediate preparations for the wedding had left him thoroughly sick of the Palace's staid atmosphere. He breathed in the serenity of the evergreen mountainside. The air was crisp and warm, filled with sunshine. There was little time left to prepare; Ingrid's servitude would end with the beginning of the colder seasons. By the time snow fluttered through the cold air, they would be celebrating their marriage. 

His lips parted as he pictured her face. Beautiful, yes, she always was, but since the ball, she'd barely looked his way. She refused to speak to him. Ignored him. He had thought this would please her as it pleased him. Had this not been what they wanted? Was this not what stood in their way the first night she kissed him? She rejected him, yet would smile in the company of his brother at his precious garden parties? His jaw clenched as he twirled the blade of his dagger in his hand. 

He sighed, placing the dagger down against the soft grass. She was afraid, there was no denying it. The way she had looked at him after the Ball, tears down her cheeks, and rage blushed over her flesh. He knew that look in her eyes. He had spent each night since restless and haunted by that look. He had tried to reach out, tried to comfort her since, but she wouldn't have him. Not now, after what he'd done still left a fresh wound in their trust between one another. It was a bargain after all, a betrayal to her, and a promise to him. She had rejected him, and he had refused to accept that, persuading himself he was justified by the subtle intimacy they had shared. 

Loki closed his eyes, sighing into the soft breeze. She never gave in to anything. She was stronger than many warriors he had seen without even needing to lift a finger. There was an unparalleled strength to her. There was a boldly lit fire in her eyes that he loved. He loved her shy composure, her bold voice, her blue flame. Everything she allowed people to see, and everything she didn't. How she blushed, smiled softly with the tip of her tongue between her teeth, and laughed with an unbecoming snort. 

Did that mean he loved her? Did he love her? His body stiffened, aches in his muscles beginning to show. He truthfully didn’t know. No matter how many times it had crossed his mind in the middle of the night, in the middle of the day. They had walked that line between friends and lovers for so long. What would it be like to care for her? To be her husband? Her lover? To touch her lightly throughout the day, hold her at night, kiss her head when he pleased. Was it all still a daydream? 

He remembered how gorgeous a feeling it was when he had kissed her. When he had held her. The relief that washed through him, the feeling of safety and acceptance. He was sure she felt the same. Slowly they would grow into their new positions. Eventually, they would be happy together.

His mare neighed behind him and he turned to her sighing. Dusk was upon the city, the galaxies shone through the dimming blue skies. He stood, brushing himself off. "I know, girl," he sighed, packing away his daggers and petting down the slope of her nose. He mounted her swiftly and rode off down the mountain, through the forests.

He rode through the streets of the city. The people congratulated him as he passed. They cheered for the betrothal of their Prince and future Princess. He smiled at them, nodding curtly. He remembered when she stood next to him in the Hall of Asgard. The people roared for the new couple standing beside the King's throne. The prospective King and Queen of Asgard. She was ethereal beside him with the warmest smile for her people. Was she happy? he wondered. Then? Now? Before all of this? Would she be happy after?

He left his mare in the royal stables, thanking the stable boy as he departed. He nodded to the guards as he entered the golden palace. The hallways were comforting and familiar as he strode to his chambers, but Loki stopped dead before he turned the corner. 

His eyes widened as he watched Ingrid's door open. His jaw set and his knuckles whitened as Thor strolled through her chamber door into the hallway, booming with laughter. He watched her beam at him, her hair falling over her shoulders as she laughed. 

Loki laid on his stomach. His sheets pooled around his waist, damp with sweat. His skin was flushed as his breathing slowed to a reasonable pace. He sighed heavily, the alcohol beginning to loosen its grip on his body. He felt her shift in the bed behind him. Her heavy pants filled his bedroom. 

His gaze was fixed on the ripples of the sheets. "I was surprised by your request tonight my Prince," Amora said softly. The sheets rustled behind him, he could feel her inching closer. "You are betrothed after all," her sweetly arrogant voice whispered. His body stiffenedd. "Though I doubt she pleasures you like this, does she?" Her delicate fingertips grazed the bare skin of his side as her long blonde hair fell over his shoulder blades. He moved away from her touch, gripping the sheets in his fists. "My Prince?" her voice wavered. 

"Leave," he demanded expressionless and cold. 

"But I-"

"I said leave!" he shouted, turning abruptly to face her terrified and fleeing from falling from the bed. Within moments he heard the door to his chambers slam shut, and he was left alone. He wondered if Ingrid had heard the door slam from across the hall. If she had heard anything that had just occurred in his bedroom. Did he want her to know? ...No, he decided. But then why had he done it?

He sighed heavily, pulling the sheets closer around his body. They smelled of sex and overwhelming floral perfumes. They smelled like her. Bitter, crude, and envious. They smelled like him. He threw the sheets away, groaning. He pulled his knees closer to his chest as he rested his head harshly against the headboard.

He hovered his hand above the ruined sheets, replacing them with a shimmer of green magic. He breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of fresh linen and soft crushed spices. Warm, kind spices like the ones Ingrid used for medicines. The oils in her hair, the smell of her dresses, and her worn, stained spellbooks. Loki closed his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

When the brothers trained, no one else dared to step foot onto the warrior's courtyard. The clangs! and thuds! were mixed with grunts and shouts. No hammer, no daggers, lightning, or magic. 

Loki swung down upon his brother's jaw. Thor groaned, stumbling to the ground. Loki glared at the smiling idiot, rubbing blood from his lip. Thor stood slowly, swaying. The smell of sweat was heavy in the air. "You're swinging harder than usual, brother," Thor smirked. "Have you seen Ingrid recently?" 

Loki gritted his teeth, aiming at him again. Thor caught his fist and grabbed his shoulders. Loki yelped as he was thrown across the courtyard, staggering to find his footing. "When did you speak with her last?" Thor sauntered toward him. 

Loki roared as he charged at Thor, knocking him down. "Enough!" he spat, kicking him back to the ground. Loki marched past him to the end of the courtyard. 

"Loki!" he heard his brother yell at him. "Will you not speak to me?!" His impatient concern was evident in his firm tone as he strode closer. Loki's fists clenched as he turned to face his brother. 

"I will not speak to you of her!" Loki growled, before lowering his venomous voice. "Surely you know! She's let you into her chambers has she not!"

"Loki," Thor grabbed his arm, keeping him from turning away. "We are only friends!" he assured his brother, shaking his head at the absurdness of the accusations. "You know I would never. She must have told you I-" 

"She tells me nothing!" Loki wrenched his arm from Thor's grip. "She will not speak to me! She will not see me! Hear me!" his burning gaze lowered to the ground. "She refuses any attempt I make," 

"Loki, you must understand what she is going through. This is all so new to her" his brother's voice was strong and sobering. 

"I know," Loki sighed, closing his eyes as he pictured her alone in her chambers, laboring away under Lady Hilda's lessons as she prepared for another overwhelming gathering filled with strange people in a strange setting. "How has she been holding up?" he asked quietly. 

"She's strong, you know that, but she doubts herself. Rumors are never kind in the Palace," 

"Rumors?" Loki asked, his eyes widened. "What have they said about her?" Thor sighed, shaking his head. "No brother, tell me," he demanded, watching him cautiously. 

"I'll have you know first that it is being dealt with as we speak," Thor said hesitantly. "Lady Amora has questioned Lady Ingrid's virtue, especially in regards to you brother," Thor watched his brother's jaw clench as he turned livid. "She will be handled," he assured him, placing a firm hand on Loki's shoulder. 

"Good," Loki growled, growing nauseous at his memory the previous night. 

"Brother... I know you care for her. Come to the Banquet tonight, speak with her," Thor urged. 

"How?" Loki hissed. "She will not even look at me," 

"You cannot demand her presence Loki, but trust me, brother, she will speak with you," he patted Loki's shoulder, giving him a promising smile before turning away from him. Loki watched his brother disappear into the stone archways of the Palace. He picked up his daggers, pensively turning them over slowly in his hand. 

"Are you ready?" he asked her, holding out a hand for her to take. Her lips parted as she tore her wide eyes from the festive scene of the garden party before them. The roses were in full season, blooming in all possible colors as the marble stone gleamed under the early evening light. 

"Yes, I suppose," she nodded, smoothing her hands down her silken ivory gown. She looked back to him, perplexed by his outreached hand. She mouthed an embarrassed "oh" and gingerly placed her hand in his. 

"It will take some time for you to get used to it," he chuckled, guiding her through the Palace archways and into the gardens. The gathered nobles cheered as they arrived, nodding and bowing to them as they passed. He watched her release a held breath as the applause quieted and another couple arrived. "Are you nervous?" he whispered to her. 

"Only a little," she clasped her hands in front of her as she smiled pleasantly at the people passing. He surveyed the guests, taking note of his brother and mother at the far end of the garden. 

"There's no need to be nervous," he smiled at her. 

"I beg to differ," she replied, finding her way to the edge of gathering among the tall hedges. He stood by her, his lips parted but without a hint of what to say or what to do. She looked stunning, as she always did. He was not quite used to her appearing so refined. Her hair pulled back into delicate braids, a long cloak pulled over her shoulders, and her emerald pendant settled over her chest as a mark of their betrothal. "You're staring," she smirked over her shoulder, turning to face him, her gown swirling around her feet as she moved. 

"You're gorgeous my dear," 

"As are you," she smiled bravely, blushing as a shy smile played on her lips. She glanced around at the guests passing by with drinks and infectious laughter. He watched her smile fall and her eyes harden, the bold woman he knew slipping back beneath the surface. 

"Come," he told her, a gentle hand at the small of her back. 

"Where?" 

"I believe my mother and brother would like to see us," he guided her through the throngs of guests to Frigga and Thor. 

"Loki!" Thor greeted them gladly, clasping a firm hand on Loki's shoulder. "My lady," he smiled fondly at Ingrid, nodding to her. Frigga approached soon after, a loving expression on her face as she admired her sons. Ingrid stood by, smiling politely as Frigga hugged her younger son. 

"I hope you two are well," she beamed at them. Ingrid's lips parted as she took a deep breath, nodding in agreement. 

"We are, Mother," Loki replied, stealing glances at Ingrid, gauging her comfortability. He noted how her gaze flickered quickly between them and her fingers twisted slightly in their clasp.

Slowly her shoulders relaxed, her eyes brightened, and her smile became genuine. Loki found himself unable to keep his eyes off her. He gravitated toward her, he always had, but there was an energy between them now. Something he couldn't quite place. When their hands grazed each other, when their gaze met for a sweet moment, he felt something ignite in the depths of his heart. A tenderness toward her, a softness he'd had for quite some time grew stronger, consuming every thought he had. 

"Perhaps you two would care to dance?" Thor suggested as the music filled the soft, night air once again. He saw her hesitate briefly, a subtle blush rising over her neck. 

"Your performance at the Ball was sensational. You make quite the decent match," Frigga smirked at them. 

"Well, I suppose a dance wouldn't hurt," Ingrid shrugged, her tentative, but strong gaze shifted back to him. "Would it?" 

"No, my dear," his eyes slightly widened at her words. He watched her intently as they joined the other couples. Her hand rested on his shoulder and his rested on her waist as she took his hand in hers. She smirked slightly, lowering her gaze as they began to move to the music. "I thought you didn't like to dance," he whispered to her. 

"No?" she asked playfully. "I didn't think you did either," 

"What would make you say that?"

"I remember... when you were younger," she sighed, he felt her tense in his arms. "I was dance practice," she said so softly he thought he didn't hear her. He gasped slightly as he recalled, blinking gently in shock that she too remembered that moment. 

"You called me sentimental," he breathed, her wide, eager eyes meeting his. 

"I did," she smiled briefly. "You are," 

"Am I?" 

"Yes," his chest swelled as her smile returned. "You remembered," she told him as if it was proof, her eyes filling with an emotion he couldn't place. 

"Of course, I remembered," his lips ghosted over her forehead as the music ended. 

"My Prince?" a timid, yet shrill voice wavered behind him. His grip on Ingrid tightened as his eyes hardened and his lips set into a firm line. Ingrid stilled in his arms as her eyes settled on the woman behind him. Ingrid started to pull away,  but he held her close. 

"Walk with me Ingrid," he requested, moving swiftly before she could protest. 

"Loki..." she began, but remained silent as she saw his dark expression. They walked through the winding pathways of the garden. The music and laughter of the party faded in the distance. Sounds of the warm breeze and the rustling of bright green leaves filled the space. They approach an open space,  the rose bushes circling an elegant fountain in the center. "Why did you shun her? Lady Amora?" Ingrid asked, her eyes fixed on the fountain's edge. 

"Thor told me the things she's said about you," he sighed. "She doesn't deserve acknowledgement," his face set in hard lines like the marble stone she stared at. 

"She doesn't?" 

"No," he replied firmly. 

"You think so little of her?" she gazed at him over her shoulder. 

"I feel nothing for her Ingrid-"

"That is none of my concern," she stated, turning fully to face him. He held her gaze for a longing moment. 

"I beg to differ," he tilted his head slightly to the side. His voice and features were softer than before, filled with subtle remorse. "I think you'd agree, my dear," he stepped closer to her, taking her small hand in his. 

"I would," her fingers tangled into his. A smirk tugged at his lips at her shy possessiveness. He chuckled softly then. "What's so funny?" she asked, gazing up at him. 

"You seemed so... surprised earlier tonight when I remembered," he watched her blush slightly. 

"I uh, I guess I was a little surprised," she gave a small laugh, looking away from him briefly. 

"Why?" he pulled her closer, his hand gliding up to her shoulder and down her back to her waist. He watched her eyes shut at the sensation. "Look at me," he whispered. 

Her warm brown eyes met his with a sweetness that wasn't there before. "I just..." she shook her head slightly. "I didn't think you would... I didn't know," she replied honestly. 

He nodded, sighing softly as her hands rested against his abdomen. "I believe you," he said. "And I've always admired that about you," 

"What?" her voice barely a whisper as he held her close. 

"Your honesty and boldness," his eyes hooded as he looked at her. She hummed softly at his words. 

"Kiss me," she whispered. Loki didn't hesitate, pressing his lips against hers as her hands ran up his torso and into his hair.

Chapter Text

He held her hand tightly as he led her through the palace corridors to their chambers. Her chest tightened as she glanced down at their clasped hands, a blush lingering over her skin as the events of night played over in her mind. A sweet smirk on his lips and a shy smile pulling at hers as they strolled past the open windows. Little things were said back and forth as they approached their chambers.

She covered her mouth, releasing an unfit snort at one of his calculated jokes as they stopped in front of their chambers. Her warm brown eyes sparkled as she gazed up at him. "Thank you for coming tonight, my dear,"

"I..." she laughed slightly, before meeting his gaze again. "I had a lovely time Loki," She admired his soft smile and the tender way he looked at her. "Will I uh, will I see you tomorrow?" she was reluctant to let go of his hand, yet surprised at her request.

"Yes, my dear," his smirk grew. "I requested your company tomorrow. No Lessons with Hilda. No lesson meetings with Halvor or my mother," his green eyes lit with mischief. 

"What? All day?" her eyes widened. He nodded, his thumb gently running over the back of her hand. "What are we going to do?"

"That, my dear, is a surprise," he smiled wickedly, as her lips pursed into a subtle pout hiding her bubbling excitement. Her breath hitched as he leaned closer to her, whispering "Wear what you like, we'll be leaving an hour after dawn,". A wide grin broke across her face at his words. He kissed her forehead sweetly, making her chest tighten. Her fingers fisted into the fabric of his jacket, holding him close to her. She felt him tense slightly, before a soft sigh escaped his lips. Her palms moved to rest on the sides of his face, watching as his gaze fell to her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips against hers. 

She gasped slightly as his hands wrapped around her waist, slowly falling to the outline of her hips. She heard him moan softly and pulled him closer, her body flush against his as her back hit the wall. Finally she pulled away, her hands tightly tangled into his hair and the fabric of his clothes. His forehead rested against hers as their breath evened out. "I should um" she swallowed nervously as she whispered "...I should go,". He nodded and they released each other slowly. 

Tentatively she stepped away, turning to her door and stealing one last glance at the flustered prince behind her. She gave him a small smile before slipping into her chamber and quietly closing the door behind her. She let out a heavy sigh, leaning back against the door. She listened for Loki's steps as he retired to his chamber. 

She swayed as she wandered to her bedroom, humming as she took out the braids in her hair. She unclasped her cape, shrugging it off her shoulders and kicking off her heeled shoes. She fell onto her bed, running her hands over her emerald pendant. 

It had been several days since the night on the balcony. They had been testing the waters carefully for what felt right. A blush bloomed over her as she replayed what just happened. Her stomach flipped at the thought of him. Images of him filled her imagination in the few quiet moments of her days. Memories, words, and the feeling of his touch lingering in her mind and body. 

She sighed, glancing to the large window at the far end of the room. The city beyond glinting under the starlight. The same city streets she hadn't walked in weeks. Her jaw clenching and fists tangling to the sheets as her thoughts wandered to Odin's warnings. Her momentary bliss fading into fear and dread as she turned over, pulling her knees closer to her chest. Her hand still over her pendent, holding those fleeting emotions of warmth close to her. Afraid of being hollowed by the horrid feeling of despair. 

Ingrid had woken before the crack of dawn by sheer anticipation. Her eyes wide open as she stared out the window, gauging the time of day. As soon as she saw the dark sky brighten in the late, dead hours of the morning, she sat at the edge of her bed, asking herself the same question she'd pondered all night. Where was he taking her? 

She looked down at her nightgown. Loose, translucent fabric rippled over her shoulders and waist. What would she wear? Surely they'd be leaving before Mistress Astrid arrived. She beamed like an idiot at the idea of dressing herself. She stumbled, racing to her main chamber room and seeking out her small, beaten chest. She sighed, smiling as she pulled out her old clothing, still laced with the salty smell of the waterside. She picked out a dull, short shift, and a pair of dark brown pants, with matching overcoat and boots. She dressed happily, there on the floor like she would have in her own home without even the luxury of a mirror. She combed her hands through her tangled, tight curls, allowing them to fall down to her hips. 

She carefully locked her chest and old clothing away, safe and sound next to the sparsely decorated bookshelf toward the wide balcony. The cool morning air blew into the large room. She hurried back to her bedroom, wondering what if anything she needed. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear as her curious gaze settled upon her vanity. Her lips parted as she noticed the emerald pendant, laying where she left it last night. Her fingers fell to the bare bit of collarbone uncovered by her shift and overcoat. She wondered if she should put it on. She stepped carefully closer to the jewelry, picking it up with a gentle hand and brushing her thumb over the teardrop gem. 

With a deep breath she clasped the pendant around her neck, flipping her hair out over the chain and glancing toward her reflection in the vanity mirror.  It was laughable, simply dressed as she was with a regal, emerald pendant against her chest. She tucked it under her clothing, her arms crossing over her front. Her hand rested on the firm metal of her armband beneath her clothing.  

She sighed, letting her arms fall to her side as she walked back to the main chamber room. She glanced to the balcony, the horizon lit with sunlight. Loki would be coming for her soon. Was he up yet? Was he in his chambers across the hall? Her chest tightened at the thought, though she wasn't sure why. She picked up spare bits of fruit and stale bread from the previous nights she had neglected to dine in the banquet hall for dinner. All in an attempt to avoid the man she would see in a few minutes. She chuckled softly, biting into the sweet fruit. 

Ingrid brushed the stale crumbs from her front, jumping as she heard a firm knock upon her door. She hurried to the door with wide eyes and pulled it open to reveal Loki. "Are you ready?" he asked with a kind smile on his lips. 

"Yes," she nodded, watching as he held his hand out for her to take. She took it cautiously, glancing over her shoulder as she closed her chamber door behind her. His smile twisted into his signature smirk, and she felt her own lips tilt into a smirk as he led her down the halls at a quick pace. She laughed as they turned the Palace's corners, holding his hand tightly. She gasped as they slipped out of the Palace and into one of the many outdoor corridors, the space perfectly silent and serene around them. He slowed slightly as she realized they were approaching the Palace's many stables. "Loki? Are we..." she gestured to the royal stables. 

"Yes, come on!" he hurried her in the stables, ushering her inside. The building was perfectly clean and the creatures inside well cared for with heaps of hay and plentiful food and water in their spacious stalls. She admired the precious smile on his face, his bright green eyes lit with excitement. He strolled over to a mare who neighed softly at him. Ingrid tilted her head to the side, observing the fairly casual clothing he wore of loosely wrapped black leather atop softer green and brown fabric. "Ingrid," he called to her, beckoning her forward. 

"What's her name?" she asked, stepping carefully over to him and the brown mare. 

"Gunhild," he responded. 

"Battle in war," she smiled at the mare, recognizing the name. Loki raised a brow at her, smirking at her endless knowledge. "She's gorgeous Loki... may I?" she held a tentative hand out, not wishing to offend the graceful creature. 

"Yes," he urged her with kind eyes, guiding her hand down Gunhild's strong neck. "I think it's best you two get acquainted before we leave," he turned away, collecting the mare's proper tools for riding. Ingrid looked at him quizzically, wondering just how far they were traveling from the palace with unnerved anticipation. She realized then, they would be riding together and turned away, trying to hide the irritating blush over her cheeks. 

She followed as Loki led the saddled mare out of the stables, holding her steady as he mounted her. He held his hand out to Ingrid, an act she was beginning to become accustomed to. She took it with a strong grip, helping herself onto the mare. "Ready?" he asked. 

She looked down at her hands, unsure of what to hold onto, certainly not him. She nodded hesitantly, preparing herself for the lunging motion. He chuckled softly before nudging the mare. They took off at a startling pace. Ingrid yelped, her hands instinctively reaching forward for something to grab. She wasn't sure for how long they'd been riding before the shock wore away. Her arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek pressed firmly to the space between his shoulder blades. Her eyes opened slowly, her teeth still bared at the aggressive pace, the wind wildly blowing her hair around her face. 

She gasped as she watched the tall evergreens of the mountains blur past. The risen sun blinded her through the trees and the ridges of the forest. She held on tighter, gravity pulling her back as they ascended the steep mountain side. She kept her face pressed to him, closing her eyes and evening her breath. She found comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, breathing in the fresh and crisp air filled with smells of damp dirt, stream water, and wildflowers. 

Her eyes opened and widened as she felt them slow to a stop. He peered over his shoulder at her, a small, amused smirk on his lips, his black hair disheveled. Her breath hitched for a moment as she took his features in, illuminated by the early morning sun. She drew back from him with a blush lingering over her cheeks. She was certain he had expected her startled reaction and he'd enjoyed it too. 

Loki dismounted from Gunhild swiftly, guiding her by the reins to less uneven ground. Once again he offered Ingrid his hand, but she rejected, glaring at him and gracefully stumbling onto the ground. She brushed her now thoroughly tangled hair from her face, surveying their serene surroundings. 

"Come on, we'll walk the rest of the way," he gestured to the beaten path before them of crushed leaves and flattened dirt. Ingrid followed him reluctantly, her arms crossed securely across her chest as she blissfully took in the fresh air.

She watched the birds, noting the various species of plants and trees they came across. She heard the rush of streams growing louder as they hiked onward. She wasn't sure how long they'd been walking. The sun had risen further into the sky, the breeze was warmer on her skin.  She looked toward Loki, still marching on through the scattered debris of the forest floor. "Loki?" she asked. "Where are you taking me?" 

"I told you, it's a surprise my dear," he teased, glancing back at her over his shoulder. 

"Loki," she sighed, digging her heels into the dirt. "I don't know where we are..." she muttered, the forest around her appearing more ominous by the second. 

"Don't you trust me?" he smiled. The same question he'd pose when they were younger, wandering about on mischievous adventures. That familiar smile and phrase that used to fill her with giddy anticipation, and though it still did, there was a thinly veiled warning in it's appearance. Not to her or to him, but to them and their friendship. Loki sighed, his smile falling as he saw the apprehension on her face. He stepped closer to her, reaching out to grasp her delicate fingertips twisted into the fabric of her overcoat. One by one he gently tugged them from the fabric. "Look at me my dear" he whispered to her, clasping her hands fully in his. "I know you remember when we were younger,"  his gaze softened further as her warm brown eyes met his.

"There's a lot of memories," she confessed, a smile ghosting her naturally, pink-tinged lips. 

"There are indeed," he smirked slightly as her stunning eyes widened further at his own confession. "Will you allow me to show you something from when I was younger? Before I met you," he asked, the tension in his chest dissipating as she nodded. "We're almost there," he led her forward. "Can you hear the stream?" 

"Yes," she answered as the trees in front of them dwindled. 

"Close your eyes my dear," he whispered to her. She looked at him tentatively. "Please," his lips too close to the shell of her ear. Her eyes fell shut immediately at the sound of his voice, but opened slightly as she gazed at the forest floor beneath her feet. "All the way Ingrid," he warned, and she glanced out at the corner of her hooded eyes at his stern smile. 

"Yes my Prince," she teased him with the flutter of her lashes before closing her eyes fully. She felt the grip on her hand tighten with a tender squeeze as he guided her out into a brightly lit space. His other hand slid tenderly down her other arm, lingering over the armband. 

"Open," he murmured into her soft curls, drawing them back from the skin that showed beneath the collar of her shift and overcoat. Her eyes opened softly, widening in sheer awe. 

"Gods... Loki!" she exclaimed at the beauty of the natural, crystal blue pool surrounded by the tallest evergreen trees she'd ever seen, the sun shining down over them. She stepped out onto the mossy stone of the waterside. She had no words to describe it. She spun to face him, the widest smile he'd ever seen on her face. She threw her arms around him, holding him tightly to her. Slowly, his arms wrapped firmly around her, burying his face into her hair and inhaling the smell of warm spices. "Thank you!" she whispered to him. "Thank you for taking me here, out of the palace!" she pulled away, regaining her composure and he let her, several emotions sweeping through him at once. "You must tell me how you know this place!" she laughed. 

He chuckled lightly, glancing to the ground and back to her. "It's one of the few places I come to find solitude, out of the palace. Thor and I found it when we were boys, we'd play here mostly. He'd often swim while I read,". He strolled to Gunhild, taking two books from her saddle. She nodded, admiring his rare expression of open sentimentality, and seating herself at the water's edge.

"Loki, it's gorgeous," she sighed, mesmerized by her surroundings. He smiled as he sat in the shade of one of the towering evergreens. She watched as he crossed his legs, turning the pages of the book he held. "What are you reading about?" she asked. 

"Illusions," he replied simply. 

"You of all people don't need practice with illusions," she scoffed.

"And why would you say that?" he eyed her carefully. She stood with a playful smirk on her lips. 

"You know why," 

"Everything requires practice my dear," 

"You told me that every time we fought," she countered, sinking to her knees next to him in the shade and picking up the book by his side. 

"And you got better," his voice dropped to a whisper as he gazed at her. 

"I never beat you," she sighed, flipping through the spells and enchantments. 

"You were young then," he reached out to touch her, but she grabbed his wrist tightly. 

"Do not make excuses for me," she let him go slowly, her smile falling as her eyes widened briefly. She stood moving back to the edge of the pool as if suddenly aware her proximity to him was too close for comfort. 

"You said that when you were young as well," his eyes narrowed at the change in her demeanor. "You are a skilled fighter, and equally skilled in your sorcery," he stood and approached her at the pool's edge. "Do you not think so?" 

"I was fortunate to have a good teacher," his eyes widened slightly at the compliment and her unpredictability. He could see when she was in conflict with herself by her sudden changes, smiles then frowns, close then far. She'd switch in a moment's time, and then switch back again. He knew she was still trying to make sense of it all. 

"When was the last time you trained?" he watched her intently as she turned to face him. 

"I've been able to practice magic, but since Odin ordered me to stay in the Palace I haven't been able to..." she trailed off. "Combat is not for ladies so I've been told," she smiled ruefully. 

"We can practice here," She looked at him quizzically, but after a moment of consideration she nodded, stepping back from him. He mirrored her, taking his stance. "Ready?" 

"Ready," she smiled.

They fought for hours under the beating sun. Each time, they grew more familiar with the other's pattern, with magic and weapons. She was rarely tricked by his illusions, and he anticipated her steps before she made them. 

She spun and swiped at his torso, but he grabbed her wrist and disarmed her. She cast an enchantment, moving from his grasp in an illusion and tripping him in the process. He gripped the waist of her overcoat, taking her down with him. He groaned as he landed on his back, his arms wrapping instinctively around her. She collapsed with a loud gasp, her head thudding against his shoulder. His hand moved to support her neck as she began to move. His other held his dagger, the blunt tip of the handle firmly pressed to her lower back. "Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded, blushing softly as she helped herself up. She tucked her hair behind her ear as he stood up behind her. 

"Sorry about that," she mumbled, wiping the sweat from her face and stepping into the sparse shade left in the bright afternoon. But he noticed how she winced. 

"You have nothing to apologize for," he chuckled, eyeing her with a kind smile. Her blush deepened as she hummed in response. He eyed her wrist carefully, noting the awkward way her wrist hung at her side. "Come sit," he suggested, leading her toward the shade of the trees. "Let me see your wrist," he told her with a gentle voice as she settled against the tree. She gave him a sharp, weary look but soon lifted her wrist toward him. He took it tenderly, turning it softly in his grasp. "Tell me where it hurts,".

"It was just a very sharp pain at first. It's more dull throbbing now, but really it's fine... What is it?" she asked hesitantly. 

"I was worried you may have sprained it, but I think you only hyperextended it," he smiled at her. "I don't think you'll even need to wrap it," She gave a relieved laugh.

"Thank you," She sighed as he stood, returning to the water edge. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to rest against the hard and rugged bark. She stayed like that, blissfully enjoying the fresh air and sounds of the forest, until she heard a loud splash. She looked up, startled to find Loki nowhere to be seen.

"Loki!" she called as her eyes settled on the small heap of black leather clothing. She staggered to her feet, rushing to the edge of the pool. Her eyes widened and she gasped as she saw him reemerge from the depths of the water. His hands sliding his hair back and brushing the water from his face as he inhaled deeply. She stepped back suddenly, tearing her eyes away from his bare torso, the waist of his pants bobbing below the water's surface. 

"Ingrid?" he called to her. She looked at him hesitantly, feeling her skin flush at the sight of him. All she could think of was how beautiful he was, but she didn't trust herself to speak for fear she would blurt out just that. "Did you...?"

She opened her mouth, feeling breathless as her chest heaved softly beneath her crossed arms. "Yes, I just..." she gestured to the water. "Can I ask why?" she laughed, looking anywhere but at him. 

"It was getting rather hot," he shrugged with a telltale, mischievous smirk. She tilted her head, glaring at him, her gaze unable to leave him now. Though she had to admit, the sun seemed especially unforgiving at this hour of the day. "Care to join?" his smirk widened into a wicked grin. 

"Is that a challenge?" she quipped, looking down at him from the water's edge. 

"May as well be," he watched her nod, deciding her next move. His eyes widened as she shed her overcoat and boots. She pulled her slim, worn pants up to her knees and stood biting her lip in her short, white shift. He admired how it fell just below her collarbone, the emerald pendant settled in the valley between her breasts. She reached behind her neck, unclasping the intricate lock and carefully setting the pendant safely in the pile of discarded clothes. 

A nervous smile graced her lips as she jumped forward into the pool. Loki shielded himself from the splashing water. She reemerged from the depths, her hair cascading down her back and over her shoulders, small curls plastered to her glistening face. Her shift clung to every dip and curve of her chest and waist. She giggled and smiled brightly at him, combing her fingers through her hair. He couldn't help but reach for her, taking one of her hands in his.

Her smile fell slightly as she realized how close he was, but she held his hand tightly, finding herself at eye level with his collarbone. Without thinking her hand rose through the water's surface, carefully hovering over his chest. Her lips parted as her fingertips brushed against his pale skin. She felt his chest tense as his breath hitched under her touch. Her wide eyes met his with concern, beginning to draw her hand away. "No," he breathed, catching her wrist and gently pulling her back to him until her palm was flush against his skin. "It's okay. It feels nice," he told her, hoping she would stay. She smiled at his words, guiding her hand softly over his collarbone and shoulders. 

"You're so beautiful," she felt the words slip from her mouth, unable to hold them back. His hand came to rest against the column of her neck, his thumb brushing across her jawline. He tilted her head back to meet his gaze, sighing at her delicate touch. Her eyes flickered down to his lips as his eyes slipped shut and he leaned forward to capture her lips with his. 

It was gentle, nearly loving. Her arm curled around his neck as he settled his hand against her waist, pulling her closer until the fabric of her shift clung to his skin as well. His hand glided over her shoulder, pulling her closer still as he felt the metal of the armband beneath her sleeve. His touch became fervent, only separated from her skin by the thin fabric. He gasped as her fingers tangled into his hair. He kissed along her jaw, pressing tender, light kisses to the expanse of her neck, before resting his forehead against her shoulder. Lulled by the sound of the rippling water and the smell of her skin, he was easily startled by the feeling of her lips on the shell of his ear. "It's alright," she whispered. The same kind voice he'd heard when she'd come to his counsel at night, the soothing voice he needed when his thoughts wouldn't let him rest. It was the only thing he needed to hear. 

Loki helped her from the water, seating her gently at the waterside. He draped one of his warm leather layers over her shivering shoulders, pulling her hair out from underneath. She hummed contently as he began to comb his fingers through the thick curls. He kissed the side of her temple, easing her to lean back against his chest. "Are you not cold?" she asked, as he smoothed the black fabric over her goosebump-laced skin. 

"No," he whispered to her. He held her like this for some time, perfectly content. Each day he watched her grow a bit more comfortable in his presence, though he knew the wound wasn't healed. It would take time for her to forgive him, and even then things wouldn't be the same. Not now, when they were betrothed.

In moments like these, he felt that familiarity of their friendship return. But it felt deeper and more real, as it's veil had been lifted. Whatever wall that was between them was gone, and they finally saw each other as they truly were. However, such precious moments don't last, he reminded himself. "We have to head back soon. My father will want to see us at dinner," he sighed, watching the sun lower into the trees. He felt her stiffen in his arms, but she nodded, her jaw clenching and eyes dimming. "Ingrid? What is it?" 

She shook her head at first, sighing as she bit her lip. "It's nothing it's... nothing," she worried her lip between her teeth. 

"Tell me, my dear. Please," he coaxed her, untangling her fingers from her shift and holding her hands tightly in his. 

"Your father..." she began, feeling his eyes on her. "He... talked to me... about my-" she paused, unsure how to say it. "My new position as... his Oracle," she finished, the words bitter on her tongue. He waited patiently for her, nodding in hopes she'd continue. He let out a relieved sigh as she began to play with his long fingers. "He... had me brought to the execution courtyard," instantly she could feel his demeanor change, his hands holding her tighter as she felt him tense behind her. 

"What did he do to you?" he asked, and her lips froze at the venom in his voice. 

"Nothing," she answered honestly, shaking her head. "He did nothing... he... there was a prisoner," he watched her warm eyes darken at the memory. "He was beheaded," she said absently. "His head... and blood... were so close to my feet," she exhaled heavily, closing her eyes as she felt him pull her against him. His arm wrapped around her body, her knees against her chest and head hidden in the crook of his neck. 

"Nothing will happen to you, my dear," he whispered to her. She sighed, praying his words were true, but in her heart she felt the future held much darker events. She closed her eyes, shutting away every negative thought and allowing herself to be sedated by the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his palms against her back. She wished she could trust him. 

"I'm trying," she whispered to him. 

"I know you are," he lifted her chin to meet his gaze before pressing his forehead to hers. “Thank you,”

Loki wasn't surprised to find himself restless yet again that night. Images of the day, of her, specifically on his mind. He'd watched her closely over the previous week since they spoke that night on the balcony. He'd watched her ambivalence on the matter. Only recently had he felt her lean one way more than the other, but he wasn't fooled. He knew she still held concerns and distrust for his actions. She was trying, and he could see that as day by day she opened up to him a bit more.

And as he watched her bloom like his mother's roses, there was an overwhelming relief of her affection. Of her returned affection to him. It pulled a deep sigh from him as he lay on his bed, staring up at the high domed ceiling. He had not imagined it, he hadn't dreamed it into reality. She did care for him. He closed his eyes at the thought. With that reassurance, everything else that worried him seemed childish, distant, and manageable. Everything else would fall into place as long as he had her. Even his father would eventually see. 

Odin didn't have much time left on the throne and preparations were beginning to be made. You would be wise to choose a wife. A queen. Loki remembered his father's words well. Ingrid was the only choice, but he wasn't sure how long ago that was decided. He shook his head softly, he couldn't remember a time he hadn't thought sweetly of her. His jaw clenched as he remembered her earlier that day. Her eyes dimmed and lips parted as she recounted to him what Odin had told her. In time, he told himself, Odin wouldn't be a concern for either of them.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ingrid had slept on the floor of the bedroom. It was solid, firm, harder like the ones she had known as a child. It didn't coddle or reassure her, rather it allowed her, forced her, to make peace within herself. She could feel where her hip and shoulder met the cruel surface in every ache and soft purple bruise that formed from the compressed skin. 

Shakily, she pressed herself up, hissing at the stinging sensation. She'd slept for too long, and too deep. By the looks of the sky outside, it was easily late morning. Perhaps she'd slept for twelve, maybe even fifteen hours. That wasn't uncommon for her during situations like this; it wasn't uncommon when she was child certainly. She grimaced at the thought, her stiff neck protesting as her head hung. 

Wearily she moved to the washroom, pulling a simple, white dress out of the wardrobe as she did so. She didn't bother to dry her wet, fervently curled hair or paint her face. She picked out the smallest heels they'd allowed her to wear, and didn't bother to take a modest cloak with her as she left. 

It was a dreary day, no guests wandered the open hallways as the floor was still slick from the previous rainfall. She glanced inside the busy library as she passed, but didn't see the one person she sought. On a day like this when he would long for solitude, she knew where he would be.

Many of the royal morning meetings had passed as the Palace prepared for the mid-day meal. She could hear clusters of people laughing from the entrances of dining halls as she passed. She smiled softly at the sound, sweet and content. The sound fading as she stepped out into the shallow puddles of the garden's courtyard. Her reflection glittering up at her as she strolled through the open area. Every leaf and petal was shimmered with rain droplets and mist. The ground sunk under her weight as she stepped onto the grassy path into the damp garden. The roses added splashes of color to the sea of emerald green around her, wilting softly in the slight cold. 

She remembered his favorite spot. Toward the end of the vast garden, where his mother's temple was. A shelter in the rainy, almost snowy days he loved so much. The damp and cold air seeped easily through her dress, but it did little to deter her. Her wet hair bled into the delicate fabric, goosebumps rose over her skin as a soft blush kissed her cheeks and nose. Her dim, pensive eyes were cast upon the soppy ground, but she knew the way. The same way they had ventured together not long ago when they were younger. 

It wasn't long until the temple came into view, it's marble and granite pillars rising tall against the high hedges that circled it. And there inside, one the solitary bench beneath the domed ceiling of the temple was Loki. Ingrid's steps were silent as she approached, but she saw him tense, his head raising from the book in his lap. Her heels clicked softly against the stone steps as she entered the open, yet closed space. 

Loki's head tilted gently to the side as he peered out of the corner of his eye, catching a glimpse of her. His eyes widened as she sat down silently beside him. Her expression was an odd tranquil, pensive frown. Her eyes dimmed and weary as her shoulders slumped softly forward. He gasped slightly as he noticed a bruise on her exposed shoulder; a compression wound he realized. His jaw set tightly as he noted the goosebumps over her skin, her damp hair, and her duller skin complexion. 

His lips parted, but he didn't dare speak first. He remained in silence with her for some time as they both stared out into the lush, decaying green around them. He glanced at her subtly as he heard her take a deeper breath, her lips parting as her gaze shifted from the rose bushes to the marble floor. "This isn't about you," she whispered, her voice hoarse but confident as she spoke. "I know you want to help. To make things better, but you can't" she told him, thinking of his last words to her the night prior. 

Carefully, he mulled over her words. He nodded as he took a calming breath. "What can I do then?" he asked gently. 

"Listen," she said bolder, turning to look at him. "I need you to listen to what I've said," he nodded solemnly as he remembered the previous night and everything she'd told him. 

"I understand, I will," he whispered, a delicate apology buried in the words, but it was enough. She glanced down at his hands, the skin of his left palm gently peeled away. Slowly, she placed her hand in his, pulling his nails away from the damaged flesh. 

"You shouldn't do that you know," she sighed sweetly, shifting her body toward him. He could feel her hands shake gently as a cool wind blew through the temple. She traced the damaged skin as he drew a sharp breath. 

"And you should be wearing a cloak. It's too cold for you to be out here without one," he whispered with a delicate smirk. Her eyes brightened at his quip, before returning back to his reddened palm, shaking her head. "Here," he traced a hand over her shoulder, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair shimmered a soft green as it dried and a green cloak, similar to his cape wrapped around her shoulders. He smiled widely as her expression brightened, even allowing a small smile to grace her lips. 

Loki studied her carefully across from him in the main room of his chambers. Her lip worried between her teeth as she turned another page of the book. Her legs pulled up with her bare feet on the edge of the sofa and shawl shrugged down to her elbows. Her hair fell over her shoulders and framed her curious expression. He had invited her in after dinner, allowing her to browse his private collection of books so she wouldn't have to sneak through the library anymore. 

"Which story are you reading?" he asked, though he already knew. 

"Hmmm? Oh um, Sigurd and the Dragon," she replied. "I’ve read it a thousand times," she laughed slightly.

"I know, my dear," he smiled at her. She blushed, glancing down at the book in her lap before closing it and setting it aside. She ran a hand through her hair, exposing the soft skin of her neck uncovered by the low neckline of her simple gown.

She was regal in the glow of the fire, her eyes warm and smile content in the intimate setting they found themselves. Seeing her be herself, untapped by stress and worry, brought him overwhelming relief. He knew such comfort would be nonexistent the next few days. "Ingrid," he began with a dreadful sigh as her gaze settled intently on him. "My father has ordered my brother and I to see to matters on Alfheim," 

"Does that mean then... that you'll be leaving?" she asked, her smile falling from her face. 

"Yes," he sighed. "We leave tomorrow,". She stared at him for a moment, the realization slowly seeping into her eyes as they dimmed and she exhaled slowly. 

"Is there no way for me to come with you?" she inquired in a small voice. 

"No," he replied. "You're needed here to prepare for the wedding," she nodded solemnly at his words.

"Your father is he..." 

"He is not coming," he said, watching her shoulders tense as she leaned forward, her legs sliding from the seat. "Mother will look after you," he stood, stepping toward her around the fire. 

"I don't doubt that," she tried to smile, doing her best to comfort herself as well as him. "And I don't need to be looked after," she retorted playfully. Though she was afraid, he could see it lingering in the back of her mind as she raised a soft finger to her lip, biting at her knuckle. 

"No, but it would make you feel better, would it not?" he sat next to her, bracing his elbows on his knees. 

She gave him a glare, but reluctantly muttered "Yes," 

"I'm not happy about it either," he said. 

"When are you happy about anything?" she laughed. 

He rolled his eyes at her, but smiled all the same. "I'll be happy to come home to you," he said honestly, smirking as she blushed. 

"You'll be back soon?" she asked and he was surprised to find a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. 

"Yes, my dear,"  

"Good," she sighed. They sat for a while in silence, the sun setting over the city and the stars shining through the night sky. Their wounds were still fresh, and partially raw from the fight the previous night's fight, but they had settled on a truce. A necessary, cooperative peace both of them desperately needed, filled with the same affection they'd shared throughout their long friendship. There was a revelation between them, a secret understanding in light of that night, as though now, they could see each other more clearly. He tried not to question her ambivalence, he understood her fear and bewilderment, and never wished to see her so unsettled again.

As Loki thought of this, he glanced at her. A sense of familiarity filled him at the sight of her entranced by the night sky. "Tell me something," she said, turning to meet his gaze. 

"I'd much rather show you," he smirked, standing and offering her his hand. She took it, returning his smile as he guided her out to the balcony. Her eyes lit up as she stared up at the gleaming stars and galaxies above. 

"Are you not cold?" she tugged the shawl up around her shoulders. 

"No," he whispered to her, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. His smile widened as she turned into his arms. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gazing down at her as she admired the stars. "There are nine realms," he told her. She met his gaze, her lips parting slightly as her eyes still filled with awe. "The branches and roots of Yggdrasil; the worlds' tree," her warm brown eyes widened as he continued to speak. He simply smiled down at her as she rested her head against his chest. His fingers intuitively threading themselves through her hair as he told her of the nine realms like he had when they were younger. 

Ingrid knocked on Loki's door hesitantly. She kept glancing toward the end of the corridor, watching for guards and servants. She prayed he would answer soon. She lifted her fist to knock again, but the door swung open revealing Loki dressed and ready to depart. 

"Ingrid?" he looked at her startled.

"May I please come in?" she asked quickly, glancing cautiously over her shoulder. 

"Yes," he ushered her in as he too watched for guards or servants. "Are you alright?" he turned to her after shutting the door. She stood near the center of the main room, her hand clasped before her as she released a held breath. 

"I'm fine!" she reassured him as he approached her. He searched her features for any sign of discomfort and found none. She gave him a small smile as she gazed at the ground and he waited for her to speak patiently. "I um..." she began, taking a deep breath. "I wanted to see you... before you left," she met his gaze, a caring look in her eyes. 

He grinned, chuckling to himself softly. "That's very kind of you, my dear," he held a hand out for her. Her eyes brightened from their nervous state as she took his hand with a relieved smile. He pulled her gently to him, a hand resting on her waist as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. An action she was becoming fond of. 

"I just didn't know if I would be able to or when you were leaving," she let out another breathy sigh as she laughed at her over-explanation. 

"I'm happy you came," he smirked, reminding her of their conversation last night. She laughed, her hands resting on his chest. 

"Really?" she couldn't help but ask. 

His hand came to rest against her cheek as he gently encouraged her to meet his gaze. "Yes, my dear," he whispered to her, his thumbing stroking along her cheekbone. Her eyes flickered down to his lips, and he leaned forward to kiss her. 

Ingrid sat near the balcony of Frigga's council room. Her eyes cast upon the Bifrost as she waited. The sun had fully risen over the mountains, it's light gleaming over the golden city scape. Her breath hitched slightly as she watched the two Princes come into view, riding down the rainbow bridge to the observatory. They halted at the checkpoint, turning over their horses and continuing on foot. 

She pictured his features. Black hair, sharp face, and green eyes. Like emeralds... she thought, her hand unconsciously moving to rest over her betrothal pendent. She watched them disappear into the observatory. She sighed as the dome began to spin. A bright line of energy was projected into space, carrying the Princes off with it. 

She glanced back to the space behind her as she heard the room open and close. "My Queen," she greeted Frigga and was given a scolding smile in return. 

"How many times must I ask you to call me Frigga, my child?" 

Ingrid laughed under her breath, nodding as she replied "Once more it seems,". 

"Hmm. They've left then?" Frigga joined her on the balcony, looking over the city to the observatory. 

"Yes," Ingrid sighed, following her gaze to the galaxies beyond the Bifrost. "How long do you think they'll be gone?" 

"If they are simple mercenaries as my sons say... perhaps one or two days. Not long, I promise you," Frigga offered her a warm smile. "Come," she said, gesturing for Ingrid to follow. Ingrid's smile widened as she watched the Queen walk to a table near one of the tall, open windows. Her yellow gown swayed behind her as she moved gracefully. Two cups of herbal tea and sweet bread lay upon its surface. "I was told," Frigga said as she sat down. "That you did not have breakfast because you were far too occupied with your betrothed this morning," 

Ingrid blushed hard at the words as she sat down across from her. "Well I, I wanted to see him before he left. To say I was 'far too occupied' as some would put it would insinuate that I... that we..." She took a moment to compose herself. She could feel the heat rising on her face and neck. 

"That you..." Frigga prompted, smirking behind her teacup. 

"Nothing happened," Ingrid stated firmly. Frigga knew the child wouldn't lie. However, she had wondered just how close the couple was becoming after she heard the gossip among the maids. 

"It is not my place to imply it did," Frigga smiled at her. "When I was a young lady... I would visit my betrothed every night. We would talk, simply spend time together without the chaos that is Palace life," she sighed. "And we were happy," 

"It is nice," Ingrid said softly, her words reminding her of her moments with Loki. 

"It is," Frigga affirmed, gazing at her knowingly. "You and Loki have spent many nights like that I believe. Even before your betrothal," she hummed.

Ingrid's eyes widened slightly as sipped her tea. "How did you know?" 

"I know my son, my child. I know what steadies him. What makes him happy," she smiled ruefully, her gaze returning to the sweet bread before her. 

"We are happy," Ingrid said suddenly, her eyes cast down in deep thought. "With him, I'm the happiest I've been in a long time. Even with things the way there are right now," she thought aloud. "He makes me laugh. And blush. And somehow I have no barriers with him... almost none," her voice quieted as her smile fell from her face. 

"Do you think that is wise?" Frigga asked, staring at her intently. "The greatest pain often comes with the greatest happiness," she warned. 

"Yes," Ingrid agreed, meeting her gaze solemnly. "But I think... I'd rather feel the greatest happiness, than never feel anything at all because... I don't know if I'll ever feel this way about anyone again," 

Ingrid had horrifically underestimated the emotional toll the wedding preparations would demand. She was pulled into sessions with Lord Halvor, Lady Hilda, and various other advisors of the affair all day. Most of whom were bluntly impartial to the idea of a previous Palace servant becoming a royal Princess. Other servants and Palace guests also had their vulgar opinions on the situation. Though, Ingrid had learned from a young age to be indifferent to such passive ridicule. She forced herself to disregard the side glances of appraisal, disregard of her title, and various questions into her acquaintance with the Prince. 

She wondered futilely how Loki had managed the arduous and meticulous planning along with his other duties as Prince. Perhaps, they didn't question him as they did her. They didn't feel the need to explain everything to him as they did her. And most certainly, he was more inclined to provide definite opinions and answers than she was, sadly considering she was planning a wedding she would never attend. 

She would never attend her own wedding. She scoffed at the thought. Her expression twisted with the threat of tears. Since the Princes had departed two days ago, Ingrid had spent most of her meals with Frigga and occasionally Astrid which was comforting, even at depressed moments. Ingrid picked at the meat on her plate, exhaustion overruling appetite and despair overruling her composure. 

"My Queen, my Lady," Astrid nodded to the two women at the door of Frigga's council room. "I have word from the Princes," she smiled brightly, holding several letters tightly in her grasp . Frigga eagerly took them and thanked her with a sweet smile. She looked them over for details. Ingrid watched her intrigued, her chest tense with anticipation for their contents. 

Frigga smirked slightly as she held one out for Ingrid. "From your betrothed," she hummed. Ingrid tentatively took it, turning the folded and ribbon-tied parchment over in her hands. She watched Frigga untie the ribbon swiftly, opening each letter from her son with a delighted smile on her face. Ingrid looked at the parchment in her hands, and slowly untied the green ribbon. She unfolded the parchment, nervous to read Loki's elegant and sharp script. 

Ingrid,

From the looks of it, my brother and I should be returning in two days. The situation is quite tedious, but I will not bore you with politics or military details. It would be of no use or interest. 

I don't believe you have been to Alfheim, my dear. I think you would find it most marvelous. There is constant daylight, blue skies and sunshine for hours on end. Alfheim has several suns, all in orbit of each other, as I have told you many times before. There are multiple moons as well and eclipses are common here. Much of the land is dry desert, however, there are dense batches of forest and such. It's beautiful at night, especially when the larger red sun lingers over the horizon. Perhaps, I will show you one day. 

Their customs are focused heavily on respect. The Elves are reserved people, which makes a hilarious scene with Thor involved. The Elves prefer silence with more attention to detail. I know you've studied their magic with Mother at the Academy. Their magic is more powerful than I anticipated. A sight to behold, no doubt. There is much more to be learned from them than we might think. Another element of their culture I think you would enjoy. 

I remember when I was a boy, my mother deeply admired the flora and fauna of Alfheim. Their herbal remedies are highly prized and praised. Some of the best medicinals in the Nine Realms. I'm afraid I suffered a head injury on my first visit to Alfheim with her and Thor. I was young at the time, our father was just beginning to involve us in diplomatic responsibilities. We were training, Thor made a mistake and I ended up with a deep gash at the back of my head. Father wouldn't allow me to come home. However, with the remedies available here, I was healed in a few days. 

While we've been here, I've taken on the role of nurse while the others rest. I must've wrapped several dozen sprains and sewed up quite a few cuts. Soap and cool water is preferable for cleaning wounds, but alcohol works as well in dire situations. Whatever keeps the wounds clean. Thor knows, but the other warriors have been harder to convince. However, the remedies my mother taught me have been useful. 

I am fortunate to have Mother. She taught how to care for people, to heal them and protect them. I do not question your ability to care for yourself, but I am grateful for her to watch over you. It has not been easy to be away from you, my dear. Often, it never is. I'm not sure I ever told you how much I appreciate your counsel or your company over these past years. You have a unique effect on me, as my mother would say. 

 I was told the arrangement of the wedding would fall to you in my absence. I hope it hasn't been too much of a pain along with your other duties. If there is any issue, I will see to it when I return. 

Also, if you are looking for new books, you are welcome to any from my personal library. I believe 'Sigurd and the Dragon' is on the second shelf on the far right. I have requested the maids to grant you entrance to my chambers any time you wish. 

Thor sends his regards as well. 

Yours, Loki 

Ingrid reread the letter over and over, focusing on certain lines more than she cared to admit. She returned to her chambers later that night, Loki's letter held tight in her grip. She approached her chamber door, her eyes heavily cast down to the stone floor. 

She stilled for a moment, a thought crossing her mind as she glanced back at Loki's chamber door. She looked toward the end of the hall, wandering around the corner. "Excuse me?" She recognized a maid down at the other end. The young blonde turned to her quickly. 

"Yes, my Lady?" 

"I was hoping you could allow me into Prince Loki's chambers?" Ingrid asked tentatively as she watched the maid's face twist with confusion. "I'm his betrothed..." Ingrid explained, the maid's face lit with understanding. 

"Ah, of course, forgive me my lady," she bowed hastily and smiled as she hurried to Loki's chamber door. She unlocked it quickly, leaving Ingrid at it's threshold and handing her a small, golden key. She pushed the door open carefully, peering into the familiar room. It felt peculiar to stand there alone, with only the starlight pouring through the windows. She lit a candle, making her way to one of the many large bookcases that lined the walls. Sigurd and the Dragon, was exactly where he told her it would be. Her fingertip grazed the spine of her favorite book as she smiled softly. She took several books from the shelf and settled herself on the soft sofa of the main chamber. She read contently in the bright candle light. 

She didn't know how late it was by the time she set down the books. She held them close to her chest, along with the letter. Her body was sluggish with exhaustion and her thoughts incoherent. She started to leave, but stopped as her gaze settled on the ajar door of his bedroom. She found herself stepping toward the door little by little, piqued with uncensored curiosity. It was strange to be inside his bedroom. She'd seen it before many times as his counsel, yet this felt different. There was a warm, welcoming energy to the space, one she'd felt before, but never this strongly.

Her hand reached down to skim the soft fabric of the sheets. Hesitantly, she perched herself on the edge of the bed, looking over her shoulder at the place he would lay. And next to him, perched like she was, she would ease his conscience. She felt her eyes slip shut, remembering those peaceful nights. How beautiful he was; as serene and docile as he could be. She'd seen his demeanor change dramatically in seconds, but those nights he was at peace. He was at peace with her and she with him.

Never had she considered the effect of those nights on herself. Looking back, their romance, small as it was, had already begun. And with that startling, yet comforting thought, It seemed undeniably natural for her to lay on the plush surface. The books and letters falling to her side, as her head hit the soft pillows. She felt safer there than she had in a long time, surrounded by every reminder of him.

Chapter Text

"My Lady, the King requests your presence," Ingrid's eyes widened as she heard the guard. She looked up from the book in her hand to Frigga and Astrid, who were equally as startled. She stood slowly, still looking to the women for comfort, but found none. Her breath hitched as moved toward the guard, Frigga followed closely behind. "Only Lady Ingrid, my Queen," Ingrid felt her stomach sink.

"On whose authority?" Frigga demanded. 

"The King,"

"And am I not your Queen?" she argued. 

Ingrid glanced quickly over her shoulder at Frigga, determined and standing in the threshold. Astrid placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding Ingrid to where she was. Slowly, the guard nodded. Ingrid breathed shakily as she glanced back at Astrid, her face twisted with worry as she followed the guard through the Palace corridors. Frigga was at her side and Ingrid gasped softly as she gripped her hand, holding it tightly. 

"What's going to happen?" Ingrid asked. 

"I don't know," Frigga replied as they turned the corner. "Clear your mind," Frigga ordered her quietly, her jaw clenched as they approached the war room. One by one Ingrid did her best to suppress every memory and thought. The large golden door swung open, revealing the domed room. 

Ingrid's eyes widened at the robed advisors. Her chest constricted as her gaze fell upon the Allfather. "Frigga, this doesn't concern you" Odin warned. 

"I would urge you to reconsider," her voice lowered to a venomous tone. A tone Ingrid had heard from her son more than once. 

"This is her duty, Frigga. Bring her forward," he ordered the guard. Ingrid was ripped from Frigga's grip, pulled forward into the intense atmosphere. 

"Odin!" Frigga warned, stepping closer to him. 

"Guards, escort the Queen out," Odin simply said, and the guards took her firmly by the elbows. She wrenched her arms from their hands, staring down at her husband. 

"Don't hurt her," she said suddenly, eyes wide as she realized how little she could do for the young girl. Ingrid stood frozen in fear as she watched Frigga be escorted out, and the large doors shut behind her. 

"Hold her," Odin ordered. Ingrid found herself firmly gripped by guards around her. 

"What- what do you want?" she asked. 

"Insight into the events on Alfheim," Odin replied. Ingrid gaped at him. 

"I- I don't have them!" Ingrid cried. "I have nothing to tell you!" she glared at him with wide, confounded eyes as he smirked softly. 

"I think you do. You simply may not know it," he replied, stepping toward her. She flinched violently as he reached a hand forward to her. 

She gasped as she felt him forcibly enter her mind. Every sound became drowned out, every body part weightless. She felt blind even with her eyes wide open. The war room disappeared, leaving a black void in its wake. Blue skies and the sunlight of yellow and red suns filled her vision. The grassland tan and burned, the dirt beneath her feet as fine as sand. A modest city lay on the horizon. Suddenly, a moon appeared. Then, every detail of the hard, grey rock appeared in her view. Worn, rugged ships painted black and red, prepared for flight. Criminals of various realms preparing for battle. "Fourteen hours sir," one said to his commander. Fourteen hours...

Just as soon as the vision came, it went. Ingrid felt her knees give out as she doubled over in nausea. "Alert the Princes. Fourteen hours until the attack. They are stationed on Torben. Three or four ships. At least fifty to sixty criminals," she distantly heard Odin announce. The sounds of footsteps pounding on the floor around her as advisers moved about. She glanced up weakly, the holographic image above the round, center table replying her visions to the men around her. Her arms were sore in the guards' hold. Her head became too heavy to hold and she fell into unconsciousness. 

Her eyes opened slowly, focusing on the warmly lit domed ceiling above her. She groaned at the hard surface below her, like the stone beds the healers used for freshly wounded patiently. So firm, she could only lie perfectly flat. She tried to move, her fingertips, then her hands, then her arms, but gasped as she felt a white-hot pain ripple through her muscles. "It's best not to struggle," she heard a gentle voice warn. 

Her head turned to the side and she could make out a figure through the blurring lantern light. They approached her slowly, a hand resting upon her head. She squinted up at them, making out small details of a blue eye and white hair. Instantly she stiffened, turning her head to jerk away. "Look at me," Odin ordered, in a soft but strict voice. 

Reluctantly she returned her gaze. To her surprise, she didn't find any malice or cruelty in his expression. "There is food and drink if you can stomach it," he said with a wave of his hands. She felt a weight leave her limbs. 

"Why was I restrained?" she asked, carefully sitting up to avoid vomiting immediately. The simple thought of sustenance made her stomach lurch. 

"You were thrashing in your sleep," he replied as she surveyed her surroundings grimly. There were no windows in the eerily barren room. Candle and lantern light illuminated much of the space in orange and yellow hues. The stone surface she sat upon was a healing table, that much she was sure of. "Do you often have visions while sleeping?" he asked her suddenly. 

"Sometimes, yes," she told him quietly. "Where am I?" she hesitantly decided to ask, disturbed by its similarity to the first room she was ordered to stay in at the Palace. The bed, small dresser, and basin were removed, replaced by the singular stone, healing table. 

"The Oracle's room," he said behind her. Her gaze lingered out of the corner of her wide eyes. 

"What happens here?" she feared she already knew the answer. 

"You tell me your visions. All of them," he stood in front of her, overwhelmingly powerful, his staff in hand. 

"And if I don't?" she asked barely above a whisper. 

"You'll be executed," he said simply as she grimaced. "You're so young," he said, turning away from her again. "For a mind like yours. I've never had an Oracle so strong in their abilities. However, I think... there are visions you have not told me yet, yes? I must praise you for being able to hide them from me for so long. You're the only Oracle I've known with enough strength to force me out. You must understand... that won't happen again," he promised. Ingrid shook her head as violently as she could. "You will tell me everything I haven't already seen," he stepped toward her. "Everything you know about my youngest son," 

"It doesn't... It doesn't make sense. It can't be true!" she tried to reason with him. "They're false! They're just lies!" she tried to back off the stone table, falling ungracefully to her feet and moving weakly away from him until her back hit the wall. For a moment she was still, the air in the room tense as he simply looked at her. It was like he could see the visions through her. 

Then, she screamed. The brutal force was excruciating. She could hear his voice in her head, she could feel the damage being done. Her vision was completely black, slowly the blaring ringing in her ears dissipated, leaving a numbing hum in its wake. Images flashed by, each one was more daunting than the last. She couldn't make out any distinct detail, but she felt the tension of each moment growing tighter like a hand around her throat. 

Am I cursed... 

Her body stiffened at the voice, his voice. Slowly a room appeared around her. The space was carved from obsidian stone, ominous in its promise of destruction. Artifacts and weapons were presented against the wall of the dark room. Ingrid turned to face Loki's voice at the end of the room. His back was to her, rigid like his voice. She gasped as he turned around. He was blue with markings and ridges over his skin. His eyes burned bloody red. 

She shut her eyes tightly, fighting for a way out of the vision. But she felt Odin force them back open. She screamed. Loki was directly in front of her with those eyes. She fought until her body gave out. Unable to force Odin out, her mind collapsed with him inside. She lay beyond exhausted on the floor. The room blurred as she tried to force herself to her knees, a shadow overcasting her. She glanced up at Odin and felt the blow of his staff against her face. 

The sun was setting beyond the city. Ingrid had been at Odin's counsel since the early morning. Now finally, Frigga was allowed to see her. Frigga hurried to the Healing room, Astrid quick behind her. The Healers greeted her briefly as they tended to Ingrid. Frigga gasped at the sight. Ingrid, limp and bloody on the healing table. She stood back as the Healers addressed her situation, still in shock of her injuries. Not only mentally and emotionally, but physically. Blood gushing from her nose, her forehead bruised dark indigo. Her eyes loosely shut above dark circles. Every natural color drained from her skin.

Frigga stood by and watched. The Healers had done what they could and left her to rest in one of the more comfortable patient rooms. She lay in a bed across from a yellow stained-glass window, the cover tucked around her torso and thin white shift. The dark room was lit generously with lanterns and candlelight. Frigga sat beside Ingrid, pulling the blanket further up as she noticed the way Ingrid shivered.

She lay a cold hand on Ingrid's fevered and discolored forehead. She grimaced at her injuries. Her jaw clenched as she rose from her seat. "My Queen, is everything alright?" a young, blonde Healer asked, looking between Frigga and Ingrid with genuine concern. 

"Yes," Frigga replied sharply. "Keep her company until I return. Her fever has not improved," she ordered Astrid, gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind Ingrid's ear. 

"Of course, my Queen," Astrid's voice was nearly cracked, strained with pain as she glanced toward the tortured girl. 

Frigga marched to her shared chambers with her husband. Her chest rising in rage as her gaze landed upon him, standing in the main room before the fire.

"How could you!?" she bellowed as he turned to face her. 

"Loki made his bargain," Odin reminded her in a calm, unchallenged voice. 

"She is a child!"

"No. She took her place at the coming-of-age ceremony. She is old enough for marriage and what her betrothed actions will cost her," he replied firmly, his voice slowly rising as he turned to her. 

"She had no choice!" 

"It is no matter," Odin laughed. "She is here, she is his. She will serve her duties," he stated. Frigga shook her head, disgusted with him. 

"What did you do to her?" she seethed. 

"Nothing she did not deserve," Odin's voice held no remorse. She watched his expressionless features, her heart aching for the young woman. 

"And what will you do when Loki returns?" she demanded. 

"What will he do?" he smirked, a ghost of his youth, but she knew. He felt untouchable. "He will learn the consequences of his actions," 

"As will you," Frigga turned to leave as her features twisted with resentful anguish she wouldn't give him the pleasure of seeing. 

Frigga stood in the front courtyard of the Palace, picking at the soft skin of her left palm. Worried for the well-being of her sons always, however she dreaded the news she had for them. Loki most of all. Guards stationed beside her moved to and from posts as horses were lined up in the royal stable behind her. The city bustled with mid-day excitement, but she looked to the main road that led to the Bifrost, listening for the sound of hooves pounding against the ground. 

"The Princes approach my Queen," a guard told her with a nod of the head. She thanked him quickly, stepping forward toward the road, her breath shaky as she awaited their arrival. Suddenly they were in sight, the two of them side by side, riding forth into the courtyard. 

She gasped as a delighted smile spread across her face. Thor and Loki dismounted their horses and approached her equally delighted. She hugged both of them, running a kind hand over their faces, various scratches and bruises lingered over their skin from the battle. "My sons!" she beamed. "It is so lovely to have you both home!" 

"We are happy to be home, Mother!" Thor boomed, Loki nodded with a kind smile in agreement. He glanced around the courtyard, his smile fading slightly. Frigga faltered, knowing who he searched for. "Is Lady Ingrid not well today?" Thor asked. 

Frigga took a deep breath, placing a gentle hand on Loki's arm as she looked hesitantly between her two sons. "I think it would be best if you both came with me," she said, urging them to follow. She led them through the golden hallways of the Palace, she felt their pace increase as they realized she was taking them to the Healing room. 

She nodded to the Healers as she entered. "How is she?" Frigga asked.

"She still hasn't woken yet my Queen," the young, blonde Healer answered in the threshold of Ingrid's patient room. Frigga nodded, looking back at her sons. Thor appeared puzzled looking between his mother and the Healer. Loki behind him was still, his lips parted and eyes filled with shock as his wide eyes looked behind them to the young woman lying in the bed of the patient room. 

"Ingrid," he murmured softly, stepping forward past his brother. Frigga allowed him in, she and Thor following in his steps into the sunlight illuminated room. Ingrid lay peacefully in the bed, white linen pulled up to her collarbones, her long black curls fanned over the pillow. The blue-purple mark on her forehead darkened with time and her nose a matching hue. Dark circles below her eyes, her cheeks shallow, but her natural warm color had slowly returned. 

"What happened?" Thor asked, in shock and growing anger at the sight. "Who hurt her?" Loki's face darkened as he knew the answers. 

"Ingrid was... performing her duties," Frigga sighed reluctantly, hating the words as they fell from her lips. Loki snapped to stare at her with horrified eyes, picturing the events with sickening detail as he traced the bruised markings over her face. 

"How long has she been like this? Why were we not told?" Loki inquired forcibly.

"It happened yesterday morning. She was brought to the Healing room that night, I didn't know the extent of her injuries until then. She's been... resting since then. I thought it best to tell you here and now, especially with you returning today," Frigga replied. 

"She hasn't woken at all?" Thor asked, his arms crossed thoughtfully over his chest. 

"No," Frigga sighed, taking a deep breath. 

"May I stay with her?" Loki asked quietly, taking a seat beside her and intertwining his fingers in her limp hand. 

"Yes. Yes, of course," Frigga sighed, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Thor?" she touched his arm slightly, urging him to come along. Slowly Thor followed her, looking after his brother for a second longer. 

Loki continued to trace the markings, from purple to blue, blue to her natural, warm brown, to the darker circles below her eyes, and then the purple twinge of her nose. He imagined his father all too well, extracting information, forcing visions from her. Loki had seen Oracles beaten, whipped, starved, among other things to reveal information. The most effective and often the most brutal method involved invading the mind. A tactic Odin often considered first despite its cruel nature. That was the duties of Oracles, to be open books, and he knew Ingrid was not. 

"How is she brother?" Thor asked the first to approach him after dinner. He took him aside outside the threshold for a spare few moments. 

"She still hasn't woken," Loki sighed, touched by his brother's concerned features. 

"If there is anything I can do to assist her, please let me know," Thor smiled slightly, placing a reassuring hand on Loki's shoulder as the Warriors' Three called to him from down the hall. 

"Your kindness is much appreciated brother," Loki smiled softly. 

"Are you not coming to the victory celebration?" Thor asked as he watched Loki begin to proceed toward the throne room.

"No, there are matters I must attend to," Loki replied.

"I understand..." Thor's smile faltered. His eyes pained not for himself, but for the burden upon his younger brother. Though Loki wavered slightly at his brother's expression before he nodded to Thor as he joined his friends. The victory celebration was well underway with festivities that would continue into the early morning. Loki could hear the laughter and drunken slurs from the Banquet hall already.

He turned on his heel, headed to the throne room at a determined pace. His father stood, speaking to his advisors in front of the throne. Loki watched as his father glanced at him, dismissing the robed men. "Loki," Odin greeted, stepping confidently toward him. 

"Did you think simply because I was gone, you could get to her?" Loki seethed. 

Odin chuckled softly. "My son, did you truly think she was under your protection?" he sighed, almost smiling at the furious man before him. "Is that what you told her?" 

"She is under my protection!" Loki bellowed. 

"She is not. She never was!" Odin yelled, stepping closer to Loki than he was comfortable with. Loki's jaw clenched as Odin glared at him with his knowing crystal, blue eye. "You made your bargain, Loki. This is the consequence for both of you," Odin reminded him. The cruel realization sinking into Loki's skin like a numb pain.

Chapter Text

Loki stayed with Ingrid for much of the remaining night. Loud laughter and cheers could be heard outside the window, distorted and faded by the cool night's wind. The curtains moved in a pattern like the rolling waves at sea, allowing the starlight to wash over the room every so often. Soft candles were lit on the dresser of the small patient room, next to clean linen and water. 

His father's words still rang in his ears as he contemplated alone in the dark next to her. She didn't stir. She barely moved. The Healer would come in to adjust her regularly to prevent her from developing bedsores. He watched her carefully pour another herbal concoction down Ingrid's throat. "What exactly do you give her?" Loki asked as the young, blonde Healer pressed her fingers to Ingrid's throat, encouraging her to swallow. 

"A blend of chamomile and mint, diffused in rosewater with a strong concentration of eirflower," she replied, holding the empty cup to him. He lifted the cup to his nose, glancing down at the spare herbs coating the bottom. 

"How many times a day?" 

"I'd say three to four, at least for now," she tucked Ingrid in gently, turning to the basin and wetting a strip of fresh linen. Loki hummed at the expected response. 

"Is she able to eat?" he looked to the Healer and she wrung out the linen.

She shook her head, returning to her patient. "No, berry juice and broth only," he nodded at the anticipated answer. The healer placed the linen over Ingrid's forehead, smoothing it out gently. 

"And for her physical injuries?" 

"Cool clothes like these every few hours and a comfrey ointment daily," once again, the answer he would expect. 

"I would like her to be moved to my chambers in the morning. I'll care for her there, with assistance of course," Loki decided in a firm, but soft tone into the suddenly tense air as she looked at him in subtle surprise. 

"I uh... of-of course, my Prince," she bowed to him then. Loki nodded his thanks as she took her leave, going to alert the other Healers of his request. Loki glanced down at the young woman resting next to him. She looked peaceful, adrift in her dreams, if she was dreaming. Loki reached forward slightly then, his fingertips grazing her temple and focused. A subtle green glow surrounded her and he smiled as she sighed blissfully in her sleep, now filled with fond memories. 

Loki helped the Healer ease Ingrid's limp form into his bed. He held her head as she settled her in, pulling the covers over her. He sat next to Ingrid as the Healer placed the various medicinal herbs needed for her medicines, fresh linens, and water in his study. Loki carefully adjusted her body, searching her expression for any discomfort. 

"My Prince, the Queen is here to see you," he heard a guard say in the threshold of his bedroom. Loki nodded, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see his mother enter. Loki stood, greeting her as the Healer bowed. 

"How is she?" Frigga asked, her gaze falling upon Ingrid. 

"We've only just moved her, my Queen," the Healer replied. "I'll check her pulses, breathing, and-"

"Her pulse is normal, and her breathing is well established. However, her temperature is high," Loki said, moving to his basin where he damped and wrung out a strip of clean linen. He placed the linen over her forehead, moving the covers down a bit. "I wouldn't suggest broth for her this afternoon, but she may be able to take some berry juice in the evening," 

Frigga smirked at the wide-eyed and speechless Healer. "You'll be the assisting Healer, yes?" she inquired kindly. The Healer nodded quickly, snapping out of her awe-struck trance. Frigga smiled. "Well, I'm sure my son will consult you if he deems it necessary. That will be all, Thank you,"

"Yes, my Queen. My Prince," the young Healer bowed to her and Loki before swiftly taking her leave.  

"You surprise them," Frigga noted, hearing the main chamber door swing shut. 

"Mmm," Loki replied, tending to the medicinals of Ingrid's tea from his study; a small room off of his bedroom. Frigga smirked fondly at his concentration as he lit a small flame, slowly brewing a bunch of eirflower in a small cauldron. But her smile faded as she noticed the creases in his face and eager worry in his eyes. 

"Loki," she said softly, gaining his attention. She stepped carefully toward him, resting her hand on his arm. Slowly, he turned to her, his woeful gaze still fixed on the bubbling concoction. She raised a hand to his cheek, tilting his gaze to her. As her eyes met his, she could see how cracked his pride was. "Why are you doing this, my son?" 

"She needs to be cared for," he told her. 

"And you're the one to do it?" she shook her head slightly. "Do you think she's safe here with you?" 

"Do you think she's not?!" He bit back as he tore away from her. 

"I never said that," 

"Then what are you saying Mother?" he demanded, even as she could see tears threatening to fall. 

"Self-punishment will do her no good," Frigga told him firmly, watching how his eyes flickered. "Torturing yourself by forcing yourself to be with her in her current condition-" 

"It's never torture to be with her..." he said softly, his eyes dropping to the floor as he turned away from her. "I just... I need her here. I need to know she's alright," 

"She's not alright Loki, you know that," 

"I know," he whispered. "But I missed her. I missed... everything about her," he told his mother. Frigga's eyes widened sadly as she understood the overwhelming meaning behind his words. 

"You always miss someone you love, my son," she pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly.

Loki stayed awake late into the night caring for Ingrid. He watched her out of the corner of his eyes through the threshold of his study as he read, listening to the rhythm of her breathing. He gave her her medicines to the hour as needed, checking her pulse and temperature frequently, and supplying diluted, small amounts of broth or berry juice when appropriate. 

The bright lantern light flickered over the pages of his book as he sat with his legs crossed and finger resting against his bottom lip as he flipped to the next page. He stilled suddenly as her breathing changed. Her deep breaths becoming smoother and quieter. His eyes fixed on Ingrid. He gasped as she groaned, shuffling slightly in the bed. Loki rose and moved to her, sitting hesitantly next to her. She groaned again, her eyes fluttering open and shutting just as fast. 

"Ingrid?" he whispered to her, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. Again her eyes fluttered open and she gazed settled on him for a brief moment before they shut. He ran a hand over her face, gasping softly as she leaned into his cool touch. "You're alright my dear," he whispered to her. "You're okay," he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, sighing as her breathing deepened once again. Surely by morning, she would be awake.

Loki knew he couldn't stay with Ingrid every moment of the day. When he had mandatory engagements he requested a Healer to treat her while he was away. Which often wasn't long due to how eager he was to return to her. It was mid-day when Loki returned to his chambers. "How is she?!" he asked, as he burst through the chamber door, headed straight for his bedroom. The Healer rushed out to meet him, alarmed with her hands braced out to slow him. 

"She's awake!" she whispered to him, a smile dancing over her features. He gasped slightly, moving with her toward the bedroom, his eyes wide. Ingrid was propped up in bed, her eyes glazed over as she moved her head from side to side. "She's very tired, but she woke up not that long ago," the Healer said in the threshold behind him. 

"My dear?" he said softly to her. He smiled as her head tilted to him and her eyes tried to focus on him. He sat next to her cautiously, taking her hand in his. Loosely, her fingers closed around his palm.

"Will that be all my Prince?" he heard the Healer ask, shaking him from his thoughts. 

"Yes, thank you," he replied, holding Ingrid's hand tighter as her breathing deepened and she fell into a light sleep. She continued to drift in and out of consciousness for the remaining hours of the day. It relieved him to see her even partially aware. She was well enough to stomach broths and her medicine more frequently, which eased his worry considerably. Every hour she improved, growing sharper and more alert. 

Loki was grounding herbs when he heard a thunderous knock on the door. "It's unlocked Thor," he called to his brother. 

"Loki, I didn't see you at the meeting this afternoon," 

"No, I haven't attended any unnecessary engagements today," Loki replied, still focused on pouring the brewed eirflower concentration into Ingrid's medicinal tea. 

"Why?!" Thor inquired with an ignorant laugh. "We were victorious in battle, should we not celebrate that?!" Loki paused at his words, glaring down at the green-tinted water swirling within the cup. 

"I'm caring for Ingrid, Thor, as a husband should," Loki replied firmly, taking the cup from his study and moving toward his bedroom. Intrigued, Thor followed him, shocked by the sight he saw. 

"You're caring for her here?" Thor asked softly as Loki sat on the edge of the bed, Ingrid's head-turning toward the sounds of their voices and movement. 

"Yes," Loki said softly, careful not to make her skittish. "Ingrid, my dear? Can you look at me?" he whispered to her, she opened her heavy eyes just wide enough to gaze at him. "Can you drink?" She gave him a weak nod and he slowly brought the cup to her lips with a hand at the hand of her head to steady her. Her hand reached up hesitantly, clasping over his as she helped tip the contents into her mouth. She choked slightly, pushing the cup away as she finished. "It's alright," he told her, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead and a soft pat to her upper back. "You can rest my dear," he helped her lie back against the pillows, tugging the covers closer around her shoulders. 

"You don't approve," Loki noted as he moved to the basin, catching a glimpse of his brother's surprised expression. 

"I worry for you brother," Thor replied softly, careful of Ingrid's resting form. "As does Mother," 

Loki scoffed as he wet and wrung out a fresh strip of linen. "Mother always worries Thor," he smirked, glaring at his brother. 

"This is the next step of your life Loki," Thor reminded him. 

"I'm well aware Brother," Loki's smirk grew wider at his brother's consideration. "And why are you so concerned about my marriage?" Loki inquired, returning to Ingrid and gently brushing some hair from her face. 

"You know why Brother, you know what this marriage means," Thor told him firmly. Loki revealed the idea that his brother was jealous, but as his gaze lingered over Ingrid, he tensed. His fingertips traced the sharp curves of her face as he placed the cool cloth over her forehead. 

"I do," Loki replied solemnly, torn between himself. His skin burned white-hot as he looked down at her. Ambition clashing with anger and anguish. 

"She will be an excellent wife and mother Loki. Everything any king could want in a queen," Loki's eyes widened at his brother's words, his chest clenching painfully. He was shocked at how much he earned for that. His brother's words sparkled like a vision in his mind. 

Loki found it impossible to sleep late that night. His eyes wandered back to Ingrid from the chair of his study. His brother's words still controlled most of his thoughts. His mind wandered to and from images of him and her happy. He wondered what she would be like with child. If the experience of caring for her would be much the same as it was at that moment. How he would hold her at night and kiss her in the morning. How perfect their child would be. With curly black hair and warm brown eyes like their mother. How he would read to her and their little one. They would teach them magic, hold their hand, and sing them to sleep. But that was all so far away now. 

He sighed as he picked up his finished book and strolled through the bedroom to the main chamber. He glanced toward Ingrid briefly. She lay fidgeting in her sleep, more alert in her dreams than he'd seen her yet. He smiled at her progress, reminding himself that every ounce of progress was a step forward. 

He skimmed through his various bookshelves, putting away the book he held and picking out several new ones. He wondered what books Ingrid would like when she was well enough to read again. Surely, lying in bed would be incredibly boring as she continued to recover. His eyes narrowed as he searched for books for her, particularly her favorite.

He was puzzled by an empty slot on the far right of the second shelf, but he smirked to himself. He realized Ingrid had taken up the offer he set forth in the letter he sent her. He looked around, wondering where the book had been placed. He stepped through the room, looking over his neat surfaces. He sighed as he turned on his heel, his arm bumping against a side table. He tensed as he heard a loud bang! behind him. He turned slowly, his attention sharply attuned to any movement or sound from the bedroom. 

He glanced down hesitantly, his jaw clenching as he saw Sigurd the Dragon lying on the floor next to him. He reached down silently to pick it up, tensing as he heard Ingrid groan. Rustling followed and he stepped cautiously toward the bedroom. He heard shuffling and the small groans quieted. His eyes widened as his gaze fell upon her from the bedroom's threshold. 

Ingrid sat on the edge on the edge of the bed, glancing around his bedroom perplexed and highly aware. He set the books down quietly on the dresser beside the door. She snapped around to face him. "Loki?" she said softly, her voice hoarse from little use. She tried to get up, but he rushed to meet her as her legs shook. His arms wrapped around her waist as her knees buckled under the stress. 

"Lie back down," he encouraged her, tugging her back down to the bed. 

"Loki," she said, stronger this time. "Loki!" she pushed him back, her eyes searching him for answers. "What- why- why am I here?". He gazed at her in mild awe, surprised by her current state of awareness and strength, small as it was. 

"I had you moved here from the Healing room," he told her gently, mindful not to startle her anymore. "I've been caring for you here since I returned, Ingrid,". She nodded slowly, still glancing around at his room. He could see the vague familiarity she felt in her eyes, shimmering dark brown with a hint of confusion. 

"How- how long?" she asked, easing back into the bed, but refusing to lie down. Loki knew better than to force her. 

"You've been here about two days," he told her, nervously wetting his lips as he watched her grapple with the situation. 

"How long have I..." she stopped, unsure of what words to use. "...been- been asleep?" 

"Three to four days," he watched her eyes cast down, hardening as the memories returned to her in waves.  

"O-okay," she sighed, leaning back against the pillows and flinching slightly as her back hit the soft surface. "Can I um... I'm sorry, but can I have some water?" she asked shyly. Instantly he stood, moving to his study where he poured a simple cup and returned to her. He noted her rather alarming reaction to his action as he handed it to her. 

"Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded tentatively, coughing slightly as she drained the water without help. 

"Yes, yes I am. I just, I'm a little overwhelmed," she tried to laugh, but coughed. "It's not often you wake in a Prince's bedroom with him acting like your healer," she said, avoiding his gaze. 

"I'm your betrothed," he told her firmly with a kind voice. She took a deep breath, he could see both the comfort and anxiety that reminder brought her. "I'm happy to care for you my dear," he smirked, remembering their conversation before he left. Though his smile faltered slightly as he recalled the events that happened in his absence, his heart leapt at the sight of her trying to giggle at his comment.

A hesitant, but genuine smile graced her lips. "You were always my patient in this room,"

"You cared for me well," he told her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Let me return the favor," 

Ingrid continued to grow in strength throughout the next day, growing strong enough to leave the bed and move about his chamber. She read as many books as he'd allow her in front of the fire through the evening. He watched as her eyes became heavy as the sun began to set over the city, her eyes reading line by line slowly. Eventually, she rested her head against her hand, her soft brown eyes shutting and a book slid from her lap to the empty seat next to her. 

Loki smiled at her sleeping form. He glanced to the open window, the sun falling below the horizon line. The candles had burned down, and he noted it had been several hours since her last dose of medicine. He moved toward her, picking up her restful form carefully and carrying her to the bedroom. He sat on the bed, balancing her in his lap as he moved the covers aside, easing her gently into the bed and pulling the covers over her.

She stirred slightly as he left for his study, preparing her medicinal tea for the night. He poured the hot liquid cautiously, taking it back into his bedroom. She gazed hazily up at him from under the covers. A faint, beautiful smile on her lips. She sat up slowly, without any help as she would rarely accept any now. He sat on the side of the bed with her tea in hand. She drank it quickly, grimacing and eager to rid herself of the earthy, sour taste. "Thank you," she sighed, her cheeks hollowed from the unbearable taste. He smirked at her, suppressing a chuckle. A small weight lifting from his chest. 

She looked at him hard for a minute, and even in her sleepy state, he knew she was working out the riddled emotions on his face. He met her gaze sharply and felt that same flip in his stomach when she didn't look away. His stare never made her flinch away like so many others who were as considerate as her. 

She smirked slightly then, having deciphered him. "You have a terribly anxious bedside manner, my Prince," she said with a soft, sweet sigh. Loki felt his cheeks redden at her words. The way she had said his title in a way no one else ever had. As an endearment. He smiled, unable to formulate a compelling response. Which only made her smirk grow. "And speechless it seems," she giggled softly, making him laugh outright. 

"I suppose you're right," he said finally, with a kind smile. 

"May I ask for one more book before I rest?" she asked, knowing the answer was most likely a definite 'no'. 

Loki contemplated her question carefully, weighing her improvement with her current exhaustion, which she failed miserably in hiding despite her best effort. "Alright," he decided, meeting her widened eyes. "Which one would you like?" he asked, already knowing the answer. 

"Sigurd the Dragon," she replied without thought. He stood, retrieving the book from its home on his bedside table. He watched her expression pique with curiosity as he sat beside her on the bed. He opened the book, turning to the first chapter, and began to read. 

His voice was smooth, fitting the mood perfectly. Ingrid found it difficult to keep her eyes open as she listened to the melodic sound. Loki smiled softly to himself as she slipped in and out of sleep beside him. Absent-mindedly her head came to rest on his shoulder. His arm became wrapped around her and his voice softer to avoid disturbing her. At the end of each short chapter, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. Even when he had finished the book, he found himself still next to her, unwilling to move. 

Eventually, he forced himself to move, but she tightened her grip over his chest. "Where do you sleep?" she asked. 

He stilled suddenly. Surprised by how awake she was. He looked down at her bright brown eyes, slightly hazy from sleep. "There's a guest room down the hall," he replied, still in awe of her. 

"Stay here," she murmured against his chest, holding him tighter. "Please," 

"Okay," he whispered back to her, unable to say no. He set the book aside, his arms wrapping around her tighter as he eased himself into bed with her. He lay next to her, her eyes blissfully shut. With a flick of his wrist, he was dressed in a simple, cloth shirt and pants.

His hand reached up to stroke her soft hair and the warm skin of her cheek. Suddenly, he felt anything but tired, content with studying the lines of her face. "You're enchanting," he whispered to her, though he doubted she could hear him now. His eyes widened as hers fluttered open, a smirk playing at her lip. She shifted closer to him, laying her head down on his chest. 

"The master of magic... calls me enchanting?" she teased. Her fingertips brushing across the bare skin above the low neckline of his shirt. He felt his chest constrict, earning for her touch. 

"Very much so my dear," he replied, taking her hand in his and placing it over his heart. He wondered if she could feel his frantic pulse.

Chapter Text

Loki stirred, his eyes and body heavy. There was a weight in his body, like a rock in the water, grounding him to where he needed to be. He forced his eyes open, welcoming the darkness of the dead morning hours. He sighed, breathing deeply as he shifted and stiffened.

He let out a subtle gasp, looking down at his chest. He blinked several times, still surprised, but there she was. Lying against his body, blissfully asleep. Her breathing was even and her hand clutched his shirt like she did her dresses when she was nervous. He smiled at her as he clasped her wrist gently, checking her pulse. He grimaced at the erratic rhythm. He kissed her forehead and whispered to her "It's alright my dear, you're alright,". 

He glanced at the window and narrowed his eyes, focusing on the sky's dark blue hue. Undertones of red climbed up from the horizon. He had slept longer than usual. He hadn't woken in the night without reason, nor had he laid for hours before falling asleep. He glanced back at her again and brushed a bit of hair from her relaxed face. It struck Loki then, how content he was in that moment. How he could lay with her for hours without need for anything else. The thought tugged a bright smile from his lips. 

He stroked her hair as she stirred in his arms. Slowly, he watched her wake, whispering soft things to her. He breathed in her scent, sighing as waves of comfort filled him. He was in awe of how peaceful he felt in her arms. 

She groaned, stretching against him, her eyes screwed shut. She clutched him tighter and he smirked against her forehead. "Loki?" she mumbled, gazing up at him through lidded eyes. 

"Morning, my dear," he murmured to her. 

"Morning," she yawned, her voice shy and quiet. 

"What were you dreaming about?" he asked, still tracing the skin of her wrist above her pulse. 

"Nothing," she replied quickly, shifting from her side to her stomach and nestling the side of her face against his chest.

"Don't lie," Loki warned with a firm tone. 

"Don't ask then," she snapped back, her face still scrunched up and voice hoarse. "What time is it?" she groaned, rubbing her eyes. 

"Early," Loki tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she hummed in response. "You've been having more nightmares recently," he noted, earning a glare from her.

"Loki, it's nothing," she insisted. He gave a reluctant nod after a moment of thought. His eyes snapped to meet hers, wide and alert as he felt her fingertips on his skin. She traced the lines of his chest, up his neck to his jaw, and across his face. She propped herself up, leaning closer to him and his eyes began to shut. But he grabbed her wrist in warning, forcing himself to hold her gaze.

"Let me," she whispered, a tender look in her eyes.

“You’re ill,” he reminded her with an intense stare.

”I’m getting better,” she quipped at him with a playful smirk.

Slowly, Loki let her go of her wrist and her lips brushed against his in a delicate kiss. She pulled back slightly, but he followed her, kissing her deeper. She smirked against his lips as a small moan escaped him. She pressed her hand against his cheek, the other tangling into his hair. He loved every sweet sigh that fell from her lips. He moved over her, caging her body between his and the bed.

Their legs entangled as his hands held her waist, tempted to slip underneath the hem of her shift. Her hips pressed against his and Loki forced himself to break away, panting lightly as he pressed his forehead to hers. He started to shift away from her, but her hand against his cheek stopped him. She turned him back to face her, her eyes gleaming in the early morning light. "Must you get up?" she whispered. 

"I wish I didn't have to," he sighed, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles gently. She nodded as he stood, his body protesting with dull aches. He moved to the dresser, pouring fresh water into the basin and pulling off his shirt. He dampened a cloth and ran it across his face and chest, far too aware of the woman in bed behind him. He glanced at the mirror beside the dresser and caught her staring at him. With a smirk, her eyes met his in the mirror's reflection. "Enjoying yourself?" he teased. 

"Don't act as though your ego doesn't enjoy it either. We both know it does," her smirk grew wider as her words drew out the blush on his cheeks. He rolled his eyes, grabbing the clothes he laid out last night and heading swiftly to the washroom. He dressed quietly, annoyed by how much control she had over him and how much he enjoyed it. It was strange to feel loved in that way; in someone else's arms. It was strange how warm a feeling it was. How familiar it was as if it blossomed overnight. He remembered when they were younger, earning a soft pang in his chest. The feeling had been lingering in him some time, planted like a seed long ago when their friendship first started. Now he felt it in full force, echoing throughout his entire body. 

There were waves of emotions. Each one crashing over the other. There were times he couldn't be in the same room with her because of his anger; times he couldn't look at her because of his guilt. And then there were times when his mind wasn't clouded in fear. She was able to guide him out of the storm, keep him stable. Moments where we couldn't look at anything but her. Or want to be anywhere but at her side.

Once dressed, Loki stepped through the bedroom threshold. He leaned against the door frame as he looked at her resting form, curled up in the covers with her wild curls fanning over her shoulders. She rolled over to meet his gaze, lazily smiling at him. She sat up and he knew she was studying his expression, her eyes focused and smile fading. "What's wrong?" she asked in a kind voice. 

He walked over to the bed, sitting down next to her. He reached out to touch her, his fingertips grazing over the healed bruises across her face. "What did my father do to you?" his voice was a whisper. Cold and almost fearful as he tried to control the venomous tone. He watched her swallow, her gaze dropping down to her lap as she took a deep breath. 

"Would you like me to start at the beginning?" she asked, her shoulders creeping up around her neck as she returned his gaze. 

"Start wherever you can," he coaxed, tucking one of the many loose strands behind her ear. 

She took a moment, the corners of her mouth twitching as she chose her first words. "The Allfather... sent a guard for me in the morning. He requested me to come to his counsel alone, but Frigga demanded to come with me... They took us to the war room, where your father... forced her to leave... the guards held me and..." she exhaled heavily, struggling to continue. 

"Take your time," Loki whispered, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone as she inhaled shakily. 

"I'm not sure what he did... it was like... he was-"

"Inside your mind?" Loki finished for her, his hardened expression cracking as he grimaced. She nodded. 

"He did it twice I think," she added, making Loki snap to stare at her. 

"Twice?" he repeated, his gaze far too raw for her to break. "What happened after the war room?" 

"He um... he took me to..." she shook her head. "I woke up in a room he called the Oracle's room," she said. "I woke up on a healing table, restrained by his... seidr? It was strange magic," Loki nodded urging her to go on, his fist beside him clenching painfully. "He uh," her eyes flashed then, he saw it for a second, pure fear. "He talked to me," she finally said. "And then he... forced visions from me," 

Loki's teeth ground hard against each other. He didn't trust himself to speak, knowing the cruel things that fall from him would be of no assistance to her in this state. "Loki?" her soft voice broke him from his fevered trance. He turned to face her, his expression softening as he saw the concern in her eyes. "I'm okay," she told him, inching closer from out of the covers. 

"I know you are," he breathed, cupping her face in his hands. "I know you are," he held her close to him, repeating the phrase as many times as he needed to bring them both comfort. 

His arms gently wrapped around her, his hands skimming over her skin as he tried only to comfort her. Afraid of making her feel confined or even further violated. He let out a sigh of relief as her head rested against his shoulder, her fingers tangled in his hair and he focused on the tender-pulling sensation. Both of them lulled into a temporary state of security.

”I’m okay,”. It was a lie. He knew that. She knew that. But perhaps in that moment, it could be true. 

He thought for a moment, weighing his words, but as he looked back at her, he knew. "Wait here a moment," he told her. She sat on the bed, her knees tucked beneath as she waited amused. 

He returned from the main chamber a moment later with a clean, bright white gown draped over his arm. "I thought you might enjoy a walk through the gardens this morning after breakfast. If you’re up for it?" he suggested, watching her eyes light up. 

"Yes!" she beamed, hoping haphazardly from the bed and taking the gown to get dressed and washed up. Loki smiled to himself as she prepared, grateful for her fast recovery. Though part of him was doleful, saddened by the thought of losing the intimacy they'd discovered together here. 

Carefully he pulled out one of the drawers of the dresser, taking out a small chest. He placed it beside the basin, opening it. Inside lay her betrothal pendent. "When can we go?" her joyful voice rang from the threshold of the washroom. He turned to look at her, smiling widely at her gorgeous appearance. The gown was simple, as he had chosen it to her liking, long-sleeved with a squared neckline. 

"Soon," he told her, beckoning her forward to him. She stepped closer, her bare feet peeking out from under the gown's layers. He guided her in front of the mirror, standing behind her as they gazed at their reflection. She looked up to him with wide, curious brown eyes. He held his closed fist forward, and opened it. The pendant dropped from its hold around his finger, dangling before her eyes. Ingrid took a deep breath as she glanced between Loki and the pendent. She blushed as Loki brushed the hair from her neck, laying the pendant across her collarbones and clasping it around her neck.

He pressed a gentle kiss to where her neck and jaw met, earning a delicate sigh from her. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen" he whispered against the column of her neck. Her eyes fell shut as her fingers entangled themselves with his at her side and his protective arm wrapped around her waist. 

Loki watched Ingrid admire the roses in his mother's courtyard garden from the stone bench in the shade. It was a particularly warm morning for late summer, making the garden more fragrant. The roses reminded him of her, the way her hair smelled and her skin felt. He found himself distracted from the green, luscious scene around him by her. Her presence and his memories of her held his complete attention.

"Do you think your mother will plant more next spring?" Ingrid glanced back toward him. 

"I expect so, I don't remember a year she hasn't," Loki smiled at her as she hummed in response. 

"So beautiful," she commented, brushing her fingertips against the smooth petals. "Are tulips still your favorite?" 

"Yes there are, they should be planted this fall. Though I greatly admire the wild roses," she nodded at his words. "And yours?". 

"My favorite?" she smiled at him quizzically and he nodded again. She sighed, thinking to herself. "Hmm, I've always found comfort in poppies,".

"Really?" he questioned her. "I thought you loved red carnations. I remember you telling me so,". 

"And I do," she responded quickly. "But, things change I suppose. Just like seasons," she sighed, leaning over to inhale the sweet scent of the white roses before her. "I think our likings change, just as we change. I mean… things change all the time, and that affects what we can and can’t take pleasure or pride in I suppose,”

"That's awfully philosophical for a simple conversation about flowers," he studied her carefully. 

"Who said it was about flowers?" a warm voice interrupted. Frigga approached them from the open corridor of the Palace into the garden. 

"Good morning, Mother," Loki greeted her, as did Ingrid with a kind smile, moving closer toward them. 

"Lovely morning it is," she beamed. "I'm glad you're recovering well Ingrid," Frigga smiled at her, a spark of remorse lingering in her eyes.

"Thank you," Ingrid smiled politely. "I'm very fortunate,” she smirked, glancing toward Loki. 

"You both are," Frigga couldn't help but say, looking between the young couple, though she knew she shouldn't. "I hope you wouldn't mind, however," Frigga turned to Ingrid, "If I borrowed Loki for a moment?" she asked, returning to the intention of her visit. 

"No, of course not," Ingrid nodded, standing back as Frigga led Loki away. He glanced back at her once or twice. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “You won’t be away from her long,”. He was grateful when his mother paused at one of the courtyard's corridor windows. From there he could see Ingrid, entranced by the nature around her.

"You seem to be more at ease lately," Frigga mentioned. 

"I am. She’s recovering remarkably fast," Loki replied, his gaze still locked upon her. 

Frigga hummed in understanding. "But something still bothers you?" she urged, reading the lines of her son's face. 

"Yes... there is," he determined, hesitant to say it. "Before I requested uh… bargained for our marriage I knew Ingrid wanted to leave Asgard once her servitude ended and... I knew Odin wanted her as his Oracle. It would have been best for her to leave, and I knew that but I... I couldn't bear the thought. I secured her, not for Father, but for myself. I thought I could keep her safe," he chuckled then. "She called me selfish, insensitive, and idiotic... and she was right,"

"You feel as though you failed her," Frigga said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

"I have failed her, Mother," Loki's voice was cold and dejected as he looked out over Ingrid. Frigga hated to see the pain in his eyes. "I thought I could keep her safe, and I put her in the most dangerous position she could be in. She told me what Father did to her," Loki met Frigga's gaze. His eyes conveying in horrific detail the pain she went through. Frigga could see how deep his devotion to her lay. 

"You have cared for her, loved her, and protected her to the best of your abilities. That is all you can do for her. You cannot change things you have no control over now, Loki," she told him, taking his face between her palms. He bowed his head, heading her words carefully. "That includes your mistakes," 

Ingrid sat happily in the library. Loki had been dragged rather forcibly by his brother to a council meeting. Ingrid remembered, in hilarious detail, how the two brothers had bickered to the end of the hall and perhaps further, but she couldn't hear them after. She would wait until Loki returned, and then proceed to retire with him to their- his chambers. 

Her eyes widened at the thought. Their chambers. She never thought a concept so simple would be so... intimate? It both scared and excited her, but those tantalizing feelings died quickly as she remembered she would leave before they were even married. 

"What plagues you, child?" a voice asked out of the dim shadows, but she knew that voice. Her throat tightened as her eyes widened with fear. Odin stepped closer toward her, the gold detail of his clothing glowed in the lantern light. 

"Nothing, Allfather," Ingrid fought to retain the strength in her voice. Odin nodded, gazing down at her. "You've healed well, my son has taken good care of you then," Odin reached out, his fingertips tracing the areas of her face where the bruises had faded. 

"Yes," Ingrid forced out. 

"I often wonder why my son chose you for marriage," he said suddenly. "Do you know?" he asked her. 

"I don't, my King," Ingrid replied calmly. "Do you?" she challenged, daring to meet his gaze. Odin smiled at her boldness. 

"He's always been drawn to you," Odin sighed. "But I could never understand why... but perhaps it's because you are equally drawn to him. It's said there's a correlation between prophecy and destiny. My son I believe would embody that belief well," 

"My visions aren't true-"

"Your visions are reality!" Odin bellowed at her. "Everything I see in you is truth..." his voice lowered to a terrifying range. Ingrid drew a shaky breath, holding onto what was left of her shattered composure. "You will not marry my son," Odin decided. Her wide eyes stared up at his hardened expression. "You will already be dead," 

He turned and left her shaking, stray tears falling down her cheeks and neck. She shuddered as she heard the library door shut with a creaking bang! Leaving her thoughts and emotions scattered across her mind like pieces of broken glass.

Ingrid found herself running through the corridors. She ran straight to Frigga’s council room, hiding behind columns and corners to avoid the guards and the clustered guests. When she approached the door, she couldn't help the wail that came out of her. Every sob she'd held back was forcing its way through her walls. "Fr-Frigga?!" she sobbed. 

Frigga opened the council door with a motherly ferocity Ingrid had only seen with her sons. She pulled her in instantly, holding her tight to her. "Shh, shh it's okay, it's okay!" Frigga hushed her, helping her over to sit down. "Dear child, shh it's okay," she hugged her tightly, kneeling before her and rocking her back and forth.

She waited until Ingrid had quieted, her body still shaking violently. "Ingrid darling, Ingrid where's Loki?" Frigga asked her, pulling away to wipe the tears away from her face. "What happened sweet child?” Frigga asked, holding her gaze. Ingrid's vision was flooded by tears but she held onto Frigga. She cried harder as she heard her endearment for her. The endearment Frigga had used when she was a child. Every tear Frigga wiped away, just like when Ingrid was little. "Where's Loki? Does he know where you are?" 

Ingrid shook her head, another sob echoing through the room. "He-he. He can-can't. He can't know," she stuttered through her cries. 

"He can't know what?" Frigga urged, truly afraid of her answer. 

"The All- Allfather wants- he wants me- me dead," she cried. "He- he told me by the wed- by the wedding I- I'd already be- I'd already be dead! I- I have to leave!" she nearly screamed. Frigga covered her mouth, holding her close. 

"Shhh! Shhh! It's okay! It’s okay, I'll get you out. You'll be safe, my child. I promise," Frigga whispered, tears streaming down her face now as she comprehended the words Ingrid said. 

"Loki can't know," Ingrid stressed. "He-he can't!”

"He won't, he won't" Frigga promised her, kissing her head as she revised the escape in her mind. "You'll leave in two days. In two days," she told her and she felt Ingrid nod. Her body still shook as she cried but Frigga knew she'd become numb, too exhausted to feel anymore.

"Mother!" Loki called from the hallways as he quickly approached Frigga's council room. Ingrid jumped at his tone of voice. Frigga moved swiftly to the door, Ingrid watched intently from the far corner of the room as she opened the door. She saw only a flash of intimidating green, but it made her shudder. She held her head in her hands, unable to cope with his anger. 

"Do you know where Ingrid is?" he asked, and Ingrid could hear the paranoia in his voice. His tone was ridden with anxiety, rage, and maybe… was that fear? 

"She's here with me Loki, come," Frigga urged him in. "Be gentle!" she warned him in a hushed tone. Ingrid could hear his rushed footsteps on the marble floor as they approached. 

"Is she alright?" Loki asked. 

"She's fine," Frigga reassured him, but the tone in their voices made her eyes water. Two days. Only two more days she would be able to hear his voice. "You mustn't be angry with her," she whispered to him, quiet enough so Ingrid couldn't hear. 

"I'm not, Mother," he whispered back, glancing back to Ingrid. “Ingrid,” she heard him call to her. She glanced up to him, his calculating eyes on her. "Why didn't you stay in the library? I told you to stay there!” he told her sharply in a low, quiet voice.

"You said you'd be back soon!" Ingrid stood, feeling a surge of anger rip through her. "You weren't!” though in truth she wasn't sure how long he had been gone. Or how long she had been gone. 

"What happened?" he asked, looking between her and Frigga. Ingrid opened her mouth to speak, but Frigga stopped her quickly. 

"I found her in the library. I took her here so she wouldn't be alone," Frigga told him, pressing a hand to his arm. "Loki," she warned. “Calm yourself,”. 

Ingrid stared at them, her sudden anger ebbing. Loki’s expression softened as he saw the exhaustion in her eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer to her. Ingrid nodded, reaching out to grasp his hand. He pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you Mother, for looking after her," he said louder for Frigga to hear. 

"My pleasure," Frigga smiled to them, "I think it's time we all retire for the night," she sighed, eyeing the couple remorsefully as she turned away from them. Loki nodded, gazing down at Ingrid, who tried her best to smile and nod as well. 

"Goodnight, Mother," Loki led Ingrid toward the door. She glanced back briefly to Frigga sharing a look of regret. 

"Goodnight," she heard Frigga say solemnly.

Loki guided her quickly through the corridors, his hand at the small of her back. She watched from the corner of her eyes as he glanced over his shoulders. She sighed, leaning into him as they walked. "What bothers you?" she asked, looking up at him. 

"I know when my mother's lying to me, Ingrid," he replied harshly as they approached his chambers. "Care to tell me why?" Ingrid glared at him as he swung open the door. She wrenched herself from his grip as she entered. 

"Not when you speak to me like that!" she snapped. 

"What happened?!" Loki demanded, shutting the door with a startling bang! Ingrid flinched violently, heading straight for the bedroom. "Ingrid!" he called to her. 

"Your father!" she screamed back at him, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Ingrid threw off her shawl and shoes across the room. They hit the door with two rattling clangs!  Angry tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped them away harshly, pulling her dress away from her body and throwing it to the side. She stood in her shift, searching the top of the dresser for a nightgown. She paused for a minute, before pulling open the top drawers and beginning to rummage through them. 

She groaned loudly, finding no nightgown. She didn’t know where they’d be. She sighed as her gaze settled on a small chest in one of the drawers. The same drawer she'd seen him pull out early that morning. She pulled it out and settled it on top of the dresser. She opened it slowly, her breath hitching as she saw her armband inside. She took it out, turning it over in her hand before pushing it past her wrist and elbow to her upper arm where it settled against her skin. She reached behind, unclasping her pendant and setting the heavy piece of jewelry into the chest. 

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she felt her exhaustion in full force. Her eyes became incredibly heavy and she lost the will to even try to pull the covers up over her body. She drifted to sleep quickly, finding herself in a world of silent blackness

Ingrid woke with a shriek. Her skin slick with sweat and her body violently shuddering. Her brow furrowed as she quickly glanced around, startled when she saw no sign of Loki beside her and had no memory of the nightmare that terrified her. She shuddered again, her teeth clashing against one another as a cold night wind blew through the room. She stood, shaking and slowly moving through the hard gusts of wind to shut the bedroom window. 

She panted as she leaned against the window ledge and reached for the shawl that lay on the floor beside her. "My Lady!" Ingrid jumped with a yelp as she heard the voice behind her. "Are you alright?" Ingrid turned to see a young, blonde healer enter the room, her face full of concern. 

"Yes! Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Just cold," Ingrid stuttered out, pulling the shawl closer around her shift-covered form. "Where's Loki?" she asked, glancing back to the empty space in the bed. "Is he in the main room?" she wondered aloud, but she knew if he was, he would've been by her side before she even woke up. 

"No, my Lady," the healer said, carefully watching her. "The Prince in resting in the guest chambers,"

"Take me there," Ingrid heard herself say, without a hint of doubt in her voice. 

"But my Lady-"

"Take me there now please," Ingrid said firmer.

"Yes, my Lady," the healer bowed her head, leading her out of Loki's chambers. She guided Ingrid down the hall past the quizzical-looking guards and to a room Ingrid had never noticed before. She thanked the healer and waited until she was down the hall before knocking against the door. After a minute, she knocked harder, her chest clenching as she waited. 

She jumped as the door opened, revealing Loki in a simple shirt and pants with wild, disheveled hair. "Ingrid?!" he looked down at her, eyes widened by shock. She sighed as she saw the bags under his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in bed?" 

"You weren't in bed," she responded, realizing how childish it sounded like a justification. He stood there for a minute, confounded by her before he glanced down the hallway, catching sight of approaching guards, and ushered her in. 

"But you were in bed, my dear," he shut the door and locked it behind them. She watched as he moved toward the sofa before the fire, a pile of books beside him. The main chamber was surprisingly barren, less lived-in than his chambers, but more put-together than hers. Colored yellow and gold with accents of silver and occasional rich brown wood or cool, marbled gray stone. There were no bookshelves like Loki's, only a few tables and sofas filled the large space around the elegant fire pit. 

"I woke up," Ingrid focused back on him. She noticed how his face creased and his shirt framed his body. He gazed at her with an inquiring look and she held his gaze as his eyes studied her. 

"How did you wake up?" he sat and leaned back against the sofa. 

"I had a nightmare. I woke up and you weren't there," 

"Was I supposed to be there?" he scoffed slightly. 

"Yes!" she snapped at the sharp stab to her ego. "Yes, you were supposed to be there. You're always there," she watched his face fall. His gaze focused on the fire as his jaw clenched, not with anger she noted. He was disappointed. Regretful almost. She couldn't tell with the fire reflecting in his emerald green eyes. 

"I thought... you wouldn't want me there," he told her. Several moments of silence passed between them. Ingrid studied his face through the blaze of the fire. Her chest ached as his sullen expression matched her emotions. 

"I understand why you would think that," her gaze dropped to her clasped hands in front of her. "I was... upset, I yelled at you, and... I slammed the door in your face," she grimaced as the memories replay in her mind. "But when I woke up," she stepped closer to him around the fire pit. "All I could think about was that you weren’t there," she admitted. "I'm sorry,".

He nodded, looking at her past the blaze of the fire with an intensity that cut straight through her. There were so many emotions in his eyes, and just as many in hers. "As am I," Loki whispered.

"For what?" she asked. 

"For leaving you alone, and for being angry with you when I have no right to control your actions or whereabouts. Nor do I have the right to assume you cannot care for yourself," he told her, standing. 

"True,” she agreed. “But I am grateful to you for caring for me while I recover," she stood directly before him, wishing he would meet her gaze. The heat burned her skin through her thin shift and warm shawl. She lifted a hand to his face, stroking her thumb across his cheekbone. He sighed at her touch, still soft and kind as it always was.

She laughed then, and he narrowed his eyes at her. She composed herself as she noticed the slight, annoyed confusion in his eyes. "This is a strange situation we find ourselves in Loki, and for all the things we cannot control..." her smile fell from her lips as she gazed longingly at him, but she tried to push the thought of leaving from her mind. "We have to be grateful for the things we can,". 

His hands came to rest on her waist, as his forehead pressed against hers. "Ingrid, what happened with my father earlier tonight?" he asked as gently as he could. 

"He spoke to me," her arms came to wrap around his neck as her shawl pooled around her elbows. "Please don't ask me what he said," she couldn't help the tears that welled up in her eyes as she buried her face in his chest. 

"I won't, my love," he whispered to her and she sighed, an overwhelming feeling rushing through her body at the endearment. She wished more than anything that she could stay with him.

Chapter Text

Ingrid was more than content to stay in Loki's chambers the next day. She sat on the balcony, overlooking the city, reading her favorite book, and stealing a glance at him whenever she could. "Ingrid?" Loki called from inside. 

"Yes?" she turned to him from the railing of the balcony, stepping into the main room. A smile graced her lips as her eyes fell on him. 

He held up the cup out to her. "Your medicinal tea,". She grimaced as she took the cup from him. "It's your last one, you shouldn't need anymore after today," he smiled at her, his palm resting against the soft skin of her cheek. She nodded, bringing the edge of the cup to her lips and drowning it down without a second thought. Her face twisted horribly at the taste. 

"Gods, that's disgusting!" she coughed, trying not to gag. He laughed as she pushed the cup back to his chest. 

"You did well though," he set the cup down on the side table next to the sofa. "It's getting cold out," his hands glided down her arms. "And so are you," he noted the goosebumps rising on her skin. 

"Your hands were never particularly warm," she teased. "But I suppose it is getting late," she sighed, resting her head against his chest as she gazed out at the sun setting over the golden city. "It's beautiful," she murmured. 

"Yes, it is," he kissed her head softly as he held her. "Have a seat, I'll start a fire," he tilted her head up to kiss her. She nodded as he pulled away, blushing. She sat down on the sofa as he closed the doors to the balcony. She threw a blanket over her legs, tucking her feet beneath her. Loki lit the fire with a quick flick of his wrist, and Ingrid smirked as he handed her her book from the balcony. 

"Thank you," she whispered as Loki took a seat beside her. 

"I'm surprised you don't have that book memorized by now," Loki teased. 

"Maybe I do," she smirked, glancing over him. "You're staring," 

"I know," he whispered, leaning closer to her. He took the book from her grip. Her breath hitched as he reached across her, setting the book down on the table next to her. He never broke their gaze, and she didn't dare to. He didn't pull away, instead, his hand landed on her thigh and his other tangled into her hair as he held the back of her head. He kissed her gently before she tried to edge away. She caught hold of his clothing, her hand resting on his side as she kept him close to her. 

Her hands slid over his chest to the sides of his neck. She watched his pupils dilate, and a wave of confidence rolled through her. Her hands tangled into his soft black hair as she pulled him to her. She couldn't help but moan slightly as his grip tightened on her thigh.

She was breathless as she pulled away, tension building in her body as she realized Loki hadn't loosened his grip. If anything he'd moved as close as he could to her. "That can't be a comfortable position for you," she whispered frankly. 

"It isn't," he laughed. She was disappointed as he drew away, leaning back against the opposite arm of the sofa, but she didn't stop him. It was her turn to stare. Loki cleared his throat then, and her smile faltered at the serious expression he chose. 

"What is it?" she asked.

"You fully recovered Ingrid," he said finally. "Tomorrow you can return to your own chambers, you won't need me to care for you," her heart ached at the hint of sorrow in his voice. She knew he thought it was only a break; that they would be together again after the wedding. She knew there would be no wedding. She gasped slightly at the thought, turning her attention away to the roaring fire. Loki narrowed his eyes at her in concern, studying her carefully. "Ingrid..." 

"I just need a minute," she stood quickly and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. "I'll be in the washroom," she added as she walked away, tears welling up in her tired, aching eyes. 

She closed the washroom door behind her, locking it and leaning against the heavy wood. She took a shuddering breath, her arms wrapping around her as she held herself. She pressed the side of her head to the door, listening for him. She heard his footsteps follow before the small clink! of the door to his study shut behind him. She inhaled deeply as she forced herself from the door. She pulled the elegant white gown down from her shoulders and let it pool at her feet. She glanced up to the single circular window at the center of the domed ceiling. The natural light spilled in, illuminating the water of the small pool below. With shaky fingers, she took out the braids in her hair and threw off her shift.

She sighed at the soft feeling of her hair let loose against her bare skin and the hot water as she eased in. She leaned with her shoulders against the edge of the pool, watching the ripples of the water travel away from her. Her eyes caught the reflection of the pendent in the water. She stiffened as she realized she was still wearing it. Her hand reached up instinctively to touch where the emerald stone lay in the valley between her breasts. She pulled her hair to the side, unclasping the chain. The heavy weight fell from her chest to her palm as it slid from her body. 

Loki sat in his study, reading by lantern light as the sun had fully set by then. It was strange not to be brewing her medicines. His study was still filled with the scent of chamomile, eirflower, and mint. It reminded him so much of her. The smell of rosewater in the morning and the spices in her hair. He sighed at the thought, pinching the bridge of his nose as he lost focus on his book. He'd grown fond of the intimate ritual they'd found and he didn't want to let her go.

He glanced up, perfectly still in his seat as he heard the washroom door open and close. Ingrid's footsteps moved through the bedroom until he imagined she retired to bed. The candles in the lanterns had burned down steadily, he wondered how late it truly was. She had said a minute, but it had turned into hours. 

He stood, carefully walking to the door and turning the knob silently. He opened the door slowly, her elegant form coming into view. She was dressed in a simple golden robe, the fabric parted for her legs. The shoulders of the garment draping over her upper arms, the metal of her armlet under the edge of pooling fabric. His gaze wandered over her bare shoulders, her wild curls tighter and weighed down by the water droplets dripping over her shoulder blades and the indents of her back. 

He was speechless as he watched her. Her soft skin gleaming in the candlelight. She glanced over her shoulder suddenly, smiling as her gaze fell on him. "Loki," 

"How are you?" he said, almost absent-minded as he focused on her warm, brown eyes. 

"Better," she replied, turning back to the candlelight. She made no move to cover herself further as he'd seen her do before. His chest ached at her trust in him. "I'm sorry for... earlier," she shrugged. "I don't want to go," the words fell so easily from her, she sighed heavily as she forced the next sentence from her lips. "But, it's the right decision," 

"For now, yes," he agreed. He noticed her smile fade. "It will be different after the wedding," he assured her. 

"It'll be like this?" she asked timidly, uncertain why she did so. She longed to know, even if it was hard to hear him speak about it. Even if she would never truly know what it was like. 

"Yes," he promised her, sitting down next to her. She smiled at his closeness, noticing the blush on his cheeks. She glanced down at herself, realizing the immodesty of her appearance. 

"Gods," she gasped, pulling the robe further up her shoulders. "Forgive me," she laughed, unable to meet his gaze through her embarrassment. 

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your body," she heard Loki say. "I'll be your husband soon enough. I'll know every curve of it,". She blushed deeply at the thought as she had before. Suddenly, everything seemed surreal. "What's wrong, my love?" her eyes blissfully shut for a moment at his endearment, but they snapped open, returning his gaze intensely. 

"It's just... when I was a servant- when I was your counsel, the other servants sometimes thought... things," she said, not knowing how to describe it. "Things similar to what... Lady Amora said," 

"I know," he sighed, she glanced up at him, surprised by the sadness in his voice. "It was never my intent for you to be subject to such rumors. They were always corrected," 

"You care so much for my honor," she thought aloud with a slight laugh as she glanced at his serious expression. 

"Ingrid, I've always been fond of you. I've desired you longer than what is proper, but I knew you weren't mine then. You still aren't completely mine now," she listened to him intently. "Your honor is something I refuse to ruin,". She nodded, thinking over his words as they sat in comfortable silence.

"Is it still ruined if I give it to you?" she asked suddenly, earning a wide-eyed look from him. 

"What reason would you have to give it to me now? We'll be married in only four days," he reminded her. 

"I don't want to wait," she decided boldly, startling both of them.

"Why?" he asked, truly concerned. She realized how close they had become, each other leaning closer to the other. She reached up, her fingertips grazing his cheek as she stared into emerald eyes. If only you knew she thought, you wouldn't hesitate, Loki. 

She shook her head, finding no reasonable answer besides the truth she had. The truth he couldn't know. Doubt crawled inside her skin. She pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around herself as she stood and turned to walk away. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Don't walk away from this," he warned her, either out of concern or anger she wasn't sure, but wrath ignited in her stomach. 

"There are plenty of women and men you have bedded without care to their honor!" she tried to wrench herself from his grasp but he stood, pulling her back effortlessly. "What makes me different?!" she demanded.

"I didn't love them!" 

His words hit her harder than any closed fist. "What?" she stuttered out as she stared at him. Her heart pounded in her chest as she searched his raw expression. He took a moment to compose himself, loosening his grip and stepping back from her. 

"With tendencies like mine, you learn the difference between lust and love quickly," he told her, his fingers tangling with hers. "I'm well acquainted with lust. I've only known love in the way I love you," 

"Loki," she breathed, astonished by him. The pure affection and concern carved into his voice and face made her hands shake and lips tremble. How hard would his heart break when she left? How hard would this be for both of them? She stepped into his embrace, unable to hold back the tears. "There would be- there are so many others who can make you happy..." she cried.

"No my love, there isn't. Banish that thought from your mind," he whispered to her, kissing her head and his fingers combed through her wild curls. 

"Loki?" she asked. 

"Yes?"

"If this was the last night you had with me, what would you do?" she asked honestly, her hands tangling in his hair. He stared at her for a long moment, carefully weighing every word he could say. 

"I would make you mine," his voice hit a tone lower than she'd ever heard. His eyes closed as she tugged gently on his soft hair. He captured her lips, sighing into her as his hands fell to her hips. His thumbs rubbing circles into her hip bones as he gripped the thick fabric. Ingrid moaned as he broke away, kissing down her jaw to her neck. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, panting slightly. She nodded, holding on to him tighter. "I need you to say so, my dear," 

"Yes," she whispered to him. "I'm sure," 

*

She yelped slightly as he pulled her down to the bed. She landed haphazardly on his lap, her arms wrapping securely around him. She was hesitant as he pushed her gently away from him, his fingertips dancing over the skin he just kissed. "Are you a virgin?" he asked, she stared down at him quizzically, surprised by the concern etched into his features. 

"I've- I've never laid with a man before," she chose her words carefully. 

"But you have laid with women?" his fingertips glided over her collarbone. 

"Yes," she breathed, watching him intently. 

"Are you nervous?" he whispered, pulling the fabric down from her shoulder. 

"Yes," 

"Don't be,"

"You make it sound easy," she laughed, rolling her head back as he tangled his hand into her hair. 

"Do you know how to pleasure your body?" he asked. She wondered if she heard him correctly. 

"Ye-yes," she blushed wildly at the confession. 

"Turn around," he told her. She gave a soft 'huh?' as she glanced down at him. "Turn around," he said again, as kind as before, but she knew that would be the last time he asked. She stiffened as she turned, leaning back against his chest. "Trust me," he coaxed. Ingrid could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she leaned back against him. His hands over her arm and around her waist brought some comfort, but her body was rigid. "Show me how you pleasure yourself," his voice said next to her ear. 

Her breath was caught in her throat, her eyes shut, unable to look. He pressed a soft kiss to where her jaw and neck met, sending sparks through her skin. She brought a hand to her chest, moving the fabric aside. "When I'm- when I'm alone?" she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear. He nodded, pressing reassuring kisses to her temple and jaw. He sighed against her, inhaling her unmistakable scent of soap and spiced oils.

Her fingertips trailed over the valley between her breasts where her pendant usually lay. She pulled the heavy fabric aside, sliding over her breast. She gasped as his fingers mimicked hers, feather-light between her breasts, following her lead. She stilled, her chest clenching hard under his touch. "Keep going," he coaxed. Slowly she cupped her breast, palming the soft skin. She gasped as his hand overlaid hers, studying the motion. She let out a small moan as she rolled her nipple, pulling the taut skin. She blushed at the louder moan that followed as Loki repeated the action. 

The sound he made in response echoed through her body to her core. Growing bolder, she moved her other hand over her thigh, lightly digging her nails into the skin. She gasped as she felt Loki repeat the action, dragging his nails over the already reddened flesh. She could feel his smile against her neck. She bit her lip as he nipped at her skin. His hand followed her closer to her core. The fabric fell further and further away from her body, as her legs rubbed against each other in anticipation. Her back arched under the delicate touch. Everything she did, he followed, igniting a burning sensation in his wake. 

Her fingers found the crease between her hip and thigh. He twisted her legs around his, pulling her knees apart gently. He followed her carefully as she explored herself. He could feel her seeping through her fingers and began to add small amounts of pressure. He was rewarded by louder moans, held back by Ingrid biting her tongue. He growled against her throat "Don't quiet yourself. Let me hear you," he bit down on her shoulder, earning a shocked yelp. 

He let her work herself slowly, giving her the time she needed to reach that height. Her thighs began to tremble, her voice tightened. He watched her closely, focusing on her expression. Her eyes shut tight and jaw slack. "Open your eyes," he ordered and her bright, brown eyes snapped open, vivid and wide. She whined as he pressed harder over her touch. He could tell she was holding out, whether she knew it or not. He could feel the tension building in her body as if it was his own. "You're there. Let go," he whispered to her. "Let go, Ingrid," 

He held her close as the small release washed over. Whispering soft nothings to her until her breathing evened out, and stroking over the tight muscles of her thigh and stomach until she relaxed. He glanced down over her, noticing how her hair had dried, the leftover water seeping into his clothes. Her skin had a soft sheen, glowing under the candlelight. His eyes moved over her body as she turned in his arms. 

Her eyes flickered over his face, her hands moving over his chest. It felt natural to kiss her. His tongue parted her lips as his hands slipped beneath the robe's fabric. They roamed her body as she began to claw at his clothing. He followed as she pulled back, taking him by the hand and guiding him to his feet. She stepped away from him, leaning against the wall, her hands folded behind her back as she waited for him. "I want to see you," she breathed, her voice softer than velvet. A cruel smirk on her lips; she knew what she did to him. He could feel every muscle in his body begging for him to pull her back. To have her in his arms, to feel her hair against his cheek, and hands against his chest. 

She looked radiant, the robe hanging off the curves of her body with a mischievous sparkle in her dark brown eyes. He removed each article of clothing. Revealing another portion of his body in painful, slow movements until there was nothing left to remove. He watched her eyes sweep over him, lingering in places and returning to others. A sigh escaped her lips as she stepped forward, her fingertips ghosted over his chest and abdomen. "You're beautiful," she smiled, circling him at her leisure. Her fingertips left a deprived ache in their wake as they trailed over his body. 

He groaned softly as she pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, moving to stand before him again. He could almost feel her skin against his, but he glared at the fabric still covering her body. He kissed her deeply, resting her forehead against his as his hand reached her shoulder. He kissed her face, over her cheek, down her jaw as she reached to untie the robe belt. Carefully, he slid the fabric off her body. He heard her breath hitched, her body stiffening as the fabric fell to the floor, pooling around her feet. Goosebumps rose over her skin as he held her. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, slowly she relaxed into his touch. 

"I'm going to put you on the bed," he whispered to her. She nodded, her arms wrapping around his neck as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squealed slightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she felt something prodding against her stomach.

Her breath was shaky as he laid her down on the bed, his body caging her beneath him. "Relax, you're okay," he smiled at her. She smiled back as she gazed at him, laughing as she always seemed to do so easily. "We won't do anything until you're ready," he promised her, kissing down her jaw to her neck. 

"I'm ready," she said bravely, sighing blissfully under his attention. 

"No," he murmured against her skin. "Not yet. I'm not rushing this,". Ingrid tensed as he began to kiss down her neck to her collarbones and chest. Her back arched off the soft surface of the bed as he caressed the smooth skin of her breasts. She gasped as he took her nipple between his teeth. Every movement he made was fine-tuned to her reaction. Based on what she had shown him. His teeth pulled at the skin of her stomach as he moved lower, his nails pressing moon-shaped imprints of his touch into her waist. 

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his tongue dip onto her skin as he kissed her, edging lower below her waist. "Loki," she warned softly, her knees knocking against each other. She hissed as he dragged his nails over her thighs, looking up at her in question. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

”I never said that,” 

“Do you want to say it?” He insisted, drawing soft circles in her flesh.

”No,” she decided. He felt her muscles relax under his fingertips with each slow circle.

He coaxed her legs apart as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. His knees hit the floor silently as he felt her tense, only her light pants filling the air. Her legs jumped as she felt his breath against her flesh. He smirked, his hands gripping her thighs tighter as he held her legs apart. 

Her body jolted as he sank into her. Her fingers gripped his hair as her legs and abdomen flexed. He groaned as he heard his name fall from her lips, licking over her sensitive nerves. His hands bruised her thighs as he held her, pressing into her skin each time she tugged at his hair. The feeling sent shock waves through his body. 

He loosened his grip on one leg. His fingers grazed over the firm muscles as he edged further up her thigh. She whined as his fingers delved into her. 

He groaned at the feeling of her. He built the pressure slowly, watching her body tremble and writhe in anticipation of the end. He loved watching her, bare and glowing before him. Her abdomen began to tense as it did before, her eyes beginning to squeeze shut. He smirked, pulling himself away from her body. Her expression fell as the pressure released, only not in the way she'd hoped. She glared at him as though he was cruel, her expression dazed like his.

He crawled onto the bed as she edged closer to the pillows. Her knees pulled into her body as she dealt with the after-effects of his attentions through several deep breaths. He kissed over the skin of her knees, smiling as her legs parted for him, resting fittingly against his hips as he eased over her. "Are you comfortable?" 

"Yes," she nodded, placing a soft palm against his face. 

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he told her firmly and she nodded again. "Words, my dear," 

"I will," she confirmed, a nervous pit growing in her stomach. She felt him prodding against her core, making her ache in waiting. He intertwined his fingers in hers, holding her hand against the bed as he held her face in his other palm. His thumb occasionally swiped across her cheekbone in comforting strokes. His eyes were soft and kind as he held her gaze. 

Her jaw clenched as she felt him push in. Her fingers tightened around his hand as she pressed hard against his chest. Her eyes snapped open as he stilled. "Why did you stop?" she whispered. 

"It hurts doesn't it?" he asked, already knowing the answer in her cringing expression. "Take your time to adjust," he whispered, his voice strained as he felt his muscles begin to shake. He shuddered at the feeling, forcing his body to still against the urge. He studied her intently, waiting patiently as her body relaxed and she nodded for him to continue. He rocked into her gently, studying her expression. 

His forehead pressed against hers as he felt her fully around him, a heavy moan falling from his lips. His fingers flexed against her as he pressed her hand into the bed. "Are you..." he trailed off, breathless from the pleasure. 

"I'm okay... I'm okay," she smiled brightly, her hand moving to rest against his shoulder blade, holding him to her. "It doesn't hurt, I'm okay," she whispered to him. He kissed her deeply, loving the sweet sound of her voice. He moved hesitantly, afraid of hurting her. He grew braver as she started to moan, her nails biting into his back. He groaned, overwhelmed by the feeling. 

"You're perfect," he whispered to her, earning a blissful sigh from her. He kissed her feverishly, sighing into each other. Her nails dragged over his skin leaving red marks and making him growl in her ear. Her soft sounds against his ear drove him insane. His pace became harder, faster as he edged toward his end. The sounds from her lips grew louder as he became less controlled until he pulled himself from her, shuddering and tensing against her. He collapsed slightly onto her, resting on his elbows, his head pressed against her chest as her fingers combed through his hair. 

He stared up at her lovingly and rolled off. He laid on his side, studying her. His hand rested over her stomach, feeling her body rise and fall as she breathed deeply. Her head turned toward him as she watched him, a delicate smile on her lips. 

*

"Was it what you expected?" he asked. 

"No," she replied honestly, her eyes narrowing as she thought. "But I'm not sure what I expected," 

"Did you like it?" he asked, more hesitant than before, his smile faltering. 

"Yes, Loki. I did," she whispered back, rolling to her side and curling into his body. His arms wrapped around her as she sighed contently against him. He held her tight to him, kissing her forehead gently as she rested. "Is it always like that? I mean I know with other women it’s not always the same, but do men- do men like it the same every time?”

"No,” he chuckled softly. "Some prefer other positions, or they like it rougher or more gentle than that," he explained, feeling her nod against him. 

"And what do you like? Rougher?" she inquired, glancing up at him through her lashes. He almost laughed at her half-innocent questions as he smiled down at her, stroking her hair. 

"Not always. Usually not in fact," he thought aloud. "Sometimes it depends on what you need, not just what you like. Sometimes it's just what you want or what someone else is willing to give you. Same with any partner, man or woman," she nodded again, mulling over his words. "So tell me," he said after a while, "who was your first?" he asked, smiling. He noticed the shyness in her eyes as she considered her answer.

"Was it Leilah?" he wondered aloud, smirking as he caught her blush. "Oh! It was!" he grinned, his eyes wide with triumph. "When we were younger you would stare at her all day," he remembered, though truly, the only reason he knew was because while Ingrid stared after Leilah, he stared after her. 

"I'm not playing your games tonight Loki," she sighed, rolling away from him. He followed her, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

"I don't think you have much of a choice," he considered, nipping at the soft skin of her neck. She moaned softly, shifting away. "You like my games," he smirked, turning her back to him and gripping her thigh. 

"I do," she admitted, running her hands along his body. He watched as her eyes narrowed again, glancing up at him in thought. "Who was your first?" she asked. 

Loki's brow furrowed in remembrance, his lighthearted smile fading a bit as he mindlessly played with her hair for comfort. "His name was Halle," 

"What was it like? Being with him?"

He took a deep breath. "It was a long time ago. I was probably a century younger than you are now," he sighed, focusing again on her face. "It was... different from how I'd been attracted to someone before. And I thought that meant he was special, but back then I... I didn't understand what lust was," 

"When we were younger," she started, choosing her words carefully. "You used to call me Darling... you don't anymore," her eyes sobering as she gazed at him. "Why?" 

"When we were younger... it felt like you were mine. I was ignorant to that misjudgment," he told her, cupping her face in his hand. "I realized I was wrong. And it seemed... the older we became, the less of you I had," 

"I am yours," she insisted, drawing closer to him. 

"Then why do you look so sad when you think of our marriage?" he couldn't help but question, unable to hide the lingering hurt in his eyes. 

She looked away, hating to see him distressed by the subject. "Because..." she sighed, taking a shaky breath. "Because I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine Loki," she sighed heavily, sitting up. 

"You have that," he told her, taking her chin between his fingers to keep her eyes on him. "You have that here and now with me,". She smiled as gratefully as she nodded because he was right. She wanted nothing more than to hold onto it for as long as she could. 

Chapter Text

Ingrid shifted slightly, groaning as her body ached in protest. Not that she would get far with Loki's body caging her between him and the bed. His hips weighed her down between her thighs as she rubbed her legs into the soft sheets clinging to their bodies. She smiled at the dull throbbing that spread through her body, remembering the events of the previous night.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Loki and Thor led a small group of guards, Sif, and the warriors three into the forests beyond the city. They surveyed a large perimeter, circling throughout the morning. "Anything?!" Loki called to the re-approaching guards and Thor. 

"No!" Loki gritted his teeth at his brother's response. They'd been searching most of the day, edging further and further into the wilderness. He glanced back in the direction of the city, and the setting sun. They would have to return to the Palace soon, and he feared without her. 

"Have you found anything Brother?" Thor's horse stepped up beside him. 

"No," Loki muttered. "It will take days to find her out here," 

"She's only been gone for a few days. She couldn't have gotten far," 

"She could have on horseback," Loki quipped. 

"Horseback?" Thor looked at him questionably. 

"Yes, they discovered a horse missing from the stables the day after she went missing" 

"You think she was taken with it?" 

"I don't know," Loki replied, his voice growing lower. "But I think it's a suspicious coincidence. If she's not in the city or the palace, she must be out here somewhere. The horse as well, how else could she get out of the city so quickly and unseen?" Thor nodded at his theory pensively.  

They were both startled as a screeching neigh was heard in the distance. Without hesitation, the brothers rode off to it. They came across a deranged black steed, blood matted into his coat and the saddle atop of him ripped into pieces. The steed swayed back and forth snorting and neighing, his ears pinned back. Loki dismounted quickly, closing in with the other guards to calm the wounded animal. "Careful now!" Thor yelled.

The horse calmed eventually, growing too tired with his gashing wounds to keep up the fight. "There now," Loki whispered to him, taking hold of the reins. He looked over the wounds carefully, teeth marks that resembled fangs and deep cuts from claws. 

"Attacked by wolves?" Thor proposed. 

"Must be," Loki replied, his fingertips hovering over the wounds gently. He was able to remove the saddle, its tattered pieces coming undone. He threw it to one of the guards who began to search through it with Thor. 

"There's food and water here. Not more than four days old," Thor announced. 

"Ingrid's been missing for four days," Loki turned to him with intense eyes. He gazed at the horse thoughtfully. Was she with him when the wolves attacked? Was she stranded somewhere in these woods? "Where did he come from?" Loki asked the guards. 

"From the mountains my Prince. Came running right to us," one guard answered. 

"Was anyone with him?"

"No, my Prince," 

Loki dreaded the idea of Ingrid alone and hurt. He glanced to the mountain range, barely visible beyond the thick of the evening mist and tall trees. Where was she? 

"Loki, we have to get him to the Palace. That steed won't last much longer without medical care," Loki nodded at his brother, releasing the steed to the guards as they began the journey back to the Palace. 

Ingrid woke with the sunlight shining onto her face. The morning mist clouded the air around her. Her body was damp, her clothes stuck to her wounds with blood. She winced as the sunlight blinded her. It burned against her shivering skin. 

She groaned in pain from her throbbing head. It felt like her skull had been split. She wasn’t overly sure it hadn’t, but at least the head wounds had ceased bleeding. 

She shifted carefully, glancing up toward the steep incline and down to the deadly rocks below. She had been desperately fortunate. She struggled to remember how she got there. Where was she?. Why was she covered in dried black, stained blood? 

She yelped as she moved her leg. Her ankle stuck between the boulder and trunk of the tree and her thigh shooting white-hot pain through her body. With a concentrated grunt, she wrenched her ankle from the crevice. She gasped, losing her balance briefly before gripping the thin tree. 

She squinted up to the top of the edge. Slowly, one then the other, she placed her sweaty palms onto the side of the mountain. She dug her nails deep into the packed rocky surface. She pulled herself up with a straining groan. She pushed off her good leg, the other dangled helplessly. Shakily she removed one hand, her body tense as she held onto the steep slope. She reached up, clawing at the rocks until she grabbed hold. She pulled herself up the mountainside. 

Her muscles screamed as she continued to climb. Her vision blurring from the sheer agony. She forced herself onward. She gasped, her hand grappling at soil and smooth rock. She hauled herself over the cliff’s edge. She lay there panting, trying to remember. Why was she here? What was she doing? Why was she so afraid? Even though she was safe, there was fear branded into her skin. What was she doing? What did she remember? 

Frigga. She remembered Frigga. Dressed in blue outside the Palace courtyard. Near the stables. With Mistress Astrid. Crying, she remembered crying. Riding. Running. Escaping. She was headed for Bor’s Mountain. A passage. Her way out. 

Ingrid slowly stood, favoring her injured leg. She swayed as she took her first steps. Whatever happened, she was safe. She was still moving. Still alive. She glanced up at the looming trees as she entered the sheltered forest. She limped through the green forestry to the mountain. Her body trembled, shuddering in the wind. Pain pulsed through her leg and head. Every once in a while she was forced to stop, stumbling to her knees or leaning against a tree. 

She shivered as the sun set, swaying more as the path became harder to see. She wouldn’t be able to continue into the night. As the darkness descended she came across a small cave. Not far away she could hear the steady sounds of running water. She followed the sounds to a clear blue stream. She leaned against a boulder, afraid if she fully laid on the ground she wouldn’t get up. Her legs lay in front of her, refusing to move. She grimaced at the wound on her thigh. The thin strip of her shift tied around it was saturated with blood, matted into her skin. It pulsed violently.

She carefully scooped the water into her hands, pouring it over her thigh. Painfully, she peeled the now red and black bandage from her skin. She poured more water over it, cleaning the edges. She hovered her hand over the wound, focusing as much as she could. A soft green glow floated around the wound, easing some of the pain. But it seemed the more pain she relieved from her leg, the harder her head would throb. Her magic did little to aid her, she was too weak to manipulate it. 

She stripped off her clothing, tearing her shift into thin strips. She tied a proper bandage around the wound before sighing and redressing in her shredded pants, overcoat, and cloak. She scooped handful after handful of water to her lips, choking as her sore throat swallowed it down. 

She could barely make it back to the cave. But a deep-rooted fear in the back of her mind begged her to find shelter. She didn’t know why, but she possessed a dreadful awareness that she wasn’t the only soul that wandered these lands. She carried herself back to the cave. Too small for any larger, dangerous animal to lurk in. 

She settled carefully into the small sheltered space. Ingrid pulled the tattered cloak tighter around her bare arms. How much longer could she continue?

Ingrid's body jerked as she slept. Her breathing was quick and erratic. The dream seemed so real. 

Slowly her eyes open, blinding white light filling her vision. She felt frozen, chilled to the bone as she registered her surroundings. A winter wasteland covered in glittering white snow and black ice. But as she looked closer, bright red seeped through the white covering, the ground bending and twisted over heaps like small hills. As she stepped closer she saw the outline of a body, several bodies, an entire army buried by the newly fallen snow. 

She squinted, making out a temple across the peaceful battlefield. She felt pulled to it, twisting pain in her gut forcing her forward. She stepped carefully over the bodies, Asgardian and Frost Giants. A heavy hum filled her ears, ominous and head-splitting. And she thought... Was that a baby crying? A distant shrill, shriek in the wind. 

She began to tremble as the sounds grew louder. The hum became strident. There was a body ahead of her as she approached. An Asgardian woman. Her skin was almost as white as the snow her long black waves fanned across. Her piercing green eyes, open and expressionless. Ingrid felt as though she knew her, the intensity of green and the shade of black. But she couldn't focus on the scene. She felt her body beginning to give out. Little by little the scene faded to black until she was just another body on the field. 

Ingrid woke up shivering violently, she gagged as her body convulsed and retched anything left in her stomach. She opened her heavy eyes, it was like she hadn't slept at all. Her body felt more spent than it ever had. She groaned, partly blinded by the bright white space around her. The first snowfall had come, sticking lightly to the ground in a small sheet of white. Water droplets were frozen to the trees and the ground was crumbly and icy. 

She glanced down at the wound on her thigh. The swelling had gone down, and she felt confident that she'd avoided infection so far. Most of her cuts had stopped bleeding and were healed enough to not be ripped open by any small movement. Her head still throbbed and her body was overwhelmingly sore but more than anything she felt an ache in her chest. An emotional outburst of loneliness crawling up her throat, the taste of bile still on her tongue. 

She missed him, her home, and her life. The realization hit harder than a closed fist. She exhaled a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around her body, her hand clasping tightly over her armband. She could feel the ridges of the metal under her skin, every design, every slope, and edge. A reminder that it was over. That he was gone and they were nothing. It left a bitter expression over her features and her body more tired than it was. 

She tried to push him from her mind, glancing out the cave's entrance. She stood slowly, carefully, stumbling out of the cave step by step. She needed to find water again soon, and food if she could. But perhaps it would be best to march on, sleep whenever necessary. At this pace, she was two days out. She needed to hurry. 

Loki watched the hologram intensely in the center of the war room. Guards were making sweeps across the forests and through the city. The perimeter was expanding with each passing day. He looked up at the sound of marching, the sound catching his brother's and father's attention as well. 

A guard hastily entered the room. "Mistress Astrid, my King," 

"Bring her in!" Odin called, stalking the room. Loki's eyes widened as the guards opened the doors to reveal Mistress Astrid being dragged along. Her face revealed her surprise and fear. Loki stepped closer, sharing a concerned look with Thor. Odin eyed her coldly. "Where is she?" 

"Where is who?" Astrid snapped back, attempting to wretch her arms from the guard's hold. 

"Where's Lady Ingrid?" Odin demanded. Loki stopped dead, eyeing the woman with renewed suspicion and contempt. 

"I don't know," the woman replied. 

"That's a lie," Loki said. His face was hardened and cold as he studied her. She glanced at him, fear evident in how she tried to shy away. There was a remorseful look in her eye, a silent apology, but for what he didn't know. "You were the last person to see her?" Loki pressed. 

"Yes..." she said, her voice dropping in volume as her gaze dropped to the floor. 

"When?" 

"The day after she returned from your care," she whispered, but she was lying. He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. 

"Did someone take her?" Odin inquired, studying his son and the maid. Astrid remained quiet, unsure what to say. "Speak woman! Did someone take her or not?!" Odin bellowed, holding his staff out to her. 

"No!" Astrid yelped, trying to jump back from the staff. The room sat in silence then, comprehending the meaning of her honesty. Loki didn't see the fury flash in his father's eye or the confusion of Thor's expression. Instead, Loki stood, victim to the force of his misjudgment. She hadn't been taken, she had left on her own accord. 

Later that night, the family was quiet around the fire in one of the more intimate spaces of the Palace. Each person contemplated the absence of Ingrid to themselves, glancing occasionally around the room to survey the others. Thor sat pensively across from Frigga. 

Her gaze was cast upon her youngest son who stood, his back to the fire with a glass of red wine tight in his grip. She could see the damage the last few days had done to him, building up slowly. There were cracks in his demeanor, the light in his eyes was dimmed, and his shoulders slumped forward. She looked down at her hands in shame, her palm raw from being picked at so much over the last few days. 

Loki was struggling to process everything. She had run off somewhere. Without a horse, hurt, somewhere in the wilderness of the mountains. The wedding had been postponed, but he feared she wouldn't return. That she was gone, as she wanted to be. What will you do... When your servitude ends? he'd once asked her. Her answer rang like a siren in his mind. Leave she had said. And now she was gone. She'd planned to leave him, he realized.

His attempts to cage her to him, to keep her here at arms reach, closer than she'd ever been before had pushed her further away than he could ever fathom. She'd run away from him, and it all made sense now. Why she looked so remorseful or regretful whenever marriage was mentioned. She never intended to marry. When she laid with him that night, she didn't want to wait because there was nothing for her to wait for. Because he was wrong, she didn't love him. She never had. 

Loki wasn’t sure when the glass had shattered in his grip. He heard his mother’s surprised gasping shriek. Followed by his brother's alarm. Red wine and crimson red blood swirling together on the marble floor over the ridges of shattered glass near his feet. Pieces etched into the palm of his hand, the thick stain seeping through the clothing over his chest. He could have laughed sadistically at how fitting the red stain over his heart was. He smiled, every ounce of control he had was washed away like the wine on the floor. He was grateful no one had seen his face. 

He retired to his room soon after, shaking off the reluctant concern of his mother and the persistent concern of his brother. But as he approached his bed, he stared at the sheets for several minutes. Remembering everything that had come to pass. The thought of it made him sick. He felt used, discarded like a one-night lover. As much as he wanted to believe she cared, he couldn't bring himself to convince himself of it. Not anymore. No matter how much confidence he had demanded from himself, the marriage had decayed along with her presence in his life. 

Even with those hateful thoughts, he found himself enveloped in the scent of her. His eyes closed and his body relaxed in the pretense of her presence. He loved her. He forgave her quicker and more fervently than he would ever admit. Not that he deserved an apology, after all, he had driven her to this. Overpowering shame swept through him, leaving him desolate, exhausted, and most of all alone in his bed. 

Frigga looked out over the city from her council room. The lanterns were small blurs of yellow light beneath the blanket of mist that covered the city. The thick night clouds blocked the mountain range from view, but she knew what she sought she wouldn't be able to see. 

She didn't dare return to her shared chambers with Odin. There was too much rage in her heart. She had avoided both him and Loki throughout the past few days. She struggled to witness the concern etched into their features. Oh, but Loki. Frigga closed her eyes tightly, feeling her breath constrict and her throat grow raw at the sight of her youngest son.

And if he was this disturbed, what was Ingrid going through? "Frigga," she turned at the voice with wide eyes to meet her uninvited guest. Her eyes widened as Odin approached her. "I need to speak with you," he told her, stepping closer. His staff in hand, glimmering in the soft lantern light of the room. 

"What is it you need?" she asked, trying to sound as placid as possible. 

"I need to know where she is, Frigga," his voice was calm and cold. "I know you helped her escape... how else would she be able to evade capture for so long?" 

Frigga was speechless, knowing she couldn't lie any longer. Her features hardened as she looked at him. She narrowed her eyes at the small, victorious sparkle in his bright, blue eye. He knew he'd won. "You'll execute her for treason," her voice was a fearful whisper into the cold air. Odin didn't answer, he simply studied her. 

"It's a small price to pay," he said softly. 

"No!" she nearly shouted. "I won't let you kill her!" 

"I won't have to, if you tell me where she is," Odin countered calmly. Her eyes were wildly wide, brimming with tears as she comprehended his words. "This isn't a hard decision, my love. I know you see the pain this has caused our son..." Frigga turned away at the mention of Loki, the first tear falling down her cheek. "Imagine his heartbreak if he learned of her death... or your assistance in Ingrid's escape, your betrayal of him," Frigga's eyes snapped open at the threat. 

"You wouldn't dare!" 

"I would. It's a simple choice. Tell me where she is, and she'll live, and Loki will be married. Keep her from me, keep her knowledge from me, and I will hunt her down through the cosmos and split her skull in front of you... in front of him," Odin threatened. "He loves her. Do you truly want to break your son's heart?" 

He was right. It was an easy choice. She felt her resolve begin to break open. "You will not harm her," her eyes flickered. "Promise me," she demanded. 

"Frigga-"

"Promise me!" her voice was venomous as she stepped closer to him. Odin's eye widened as his staff was pulled from his grip. It settled firmly in her outstretched palm, the bladed tip tilted toward him. "You will not harm my daughter or my son,". 

Odin ordered the guards to leave at once for Bor's Mountain. They rode off in the middle of the night. By dawn, they were well on their way. Thor hurried through the halls, eager to tell his brother the news. "Loki!" he banged on his brother's chamber door. 

Loki groaned from his study, pinching his nose as his brother continued to pound on the door. With a growl, Loki moved to the door, ripping it open with a harsh glare. "What is it!?" he demanded through clenched teeth. 

"They've found Ingrid!" Thor beamed. 

"What?" He stepped back in shock, allowing Thor in. "When? How?" 

"Father sent a search party for her last night! They know where she's been taken! They believe she's in the mountains! Loki, they're going to bring her home!" Thor cried, but his smile faltered as he watched his brother's conflicted expression. 

"She's coming home?" Loki asked, eyes wide as he contemplated the situation. He was speechless, too many questions running through his mind. Mostly, he was skeptical. Did they truly know where she was? Would Odin bring her back alive? 

"Yes!" Loki watched him, doubtful of his brother's confidence. He felt torn in two. His body flooded with joy and dread. What would happen when she returned? She'd committed treason after all. And he was the reason why. 

Ingrid staggered in her ascent up the mountain, she could see the cave in view now. She was so close. She struggled on, limping, leaning on the boulders beside her for support when she could. That's when she heard it. The sound of galloping, of hooves of horses digging deep into the dirt. She froze, her breathing became erratic as she listened, looking wildly around for the sources of the sounds. She couldn't see anything through the cold mist. 

She gasped as she heard their voices. The sound of metal, of guards. She heard the sounds grow louder. She wasn't sure if it was all in her mind. Her leg throbbed as she pushed on. 

She forced herself forward. The ground was rocky beneath her, her feet slipping and tripping over the rugged terrain. She gasped as she heard the sound of the ships overhead. 

She paused at the edge of the forest, the cave's entrance at the top of the steep incline before her. She glanced up and nearly screamed. Overhead were the King's guard, circling the area. Fear began to build inside her. Her skin heated up as her sweaty palms gripped the tree behind her. 

She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her head as the sound of horses grew closer. She would have to make a run for it. She had to run. She waited only a second, for the ships to disappear slightly out of sight before she dashed out into the open. She ran as fast as she could. Her hands dug into the rock as she climbed. Her heart was racing. She could barely breathe. Her vision blurred from the pain that spurred through her leg. 

"There she is!" a guard yelled from above. The ships descended down into the field. She was so close to the cave. Just a little further. She glanced back, her eyes widening as the guards rode through the trees after her. The ships landed, the wind blowing through her hair and blinding her. 

She screamed as she tripped, pain shooting through her legs. "Lady Ingrid!" she heard someone shout. She picked herself up as quickly as she could, crying out in pain. "Wait!" she bolted into the cave entrance, plunging into the darkness. 

She could feel the energy surge through the wall as she stumbled through. The light faded away quickly through the narrow path. She could hear their voices echoing behind her. Horses neighing as they were dismounted. Heavy footsteps were close behind her. "Stop!" their cries echoed through the cave. 

The air seemed to become denser, her body heavier as she pushed on. The energy was overwhelming, burning her fingertips as she tried to reach the passage. She knew she was close. Bursts of light shot through the cave's walls. Like the Bifrost into the galaxies beyond. Her vision faltered, and her legs gave. There was a force pulling her forward. She screamed. Her body felt as though it was being pulled apart. The blinding light surrounded her body completely as it pulled her into the darkness.