Seek and Find
I have been writing a LOT lately. I am working on at least three different projects, two of which are actually *gasp* original! I am enjoying the process of putting words on the page, though some days it's more of a 'put words on page...delete all the words' process, but overall I am making progress, so it's good.
My one non-original fic is, you guessed it, Loki-centric. It's been living in my brain for *months* now and it's time it saw the light of day. I have written five chapters that are more or less complete, though not sequential. I've still got quite a lot of writing left to go, but I know if I wait until it's done, which is what I initially intended to do, Thor: The Dark World will have already hit the theaters and screwed up my canon. Past experience tells me that, if that happens, I will have a hard time carrying on with my story, especially if no one has seen it but me and my long suffering reader dmacabre (I hesitate to call her a beta because I have specifically asked her only to give me her overall thoughts rather than nitpick it for me).
So, I'm kicking this party off with Chapter 1 and hoping this will help give me the motivation I need to keep working on it until it is *done*!
Should you take the time to visit my little world, I would greatly appreciate any concrit you might like to throw my way.
Title: Seek and Find
Characters: Loki/OC pairing
Rating: PG, rating will change in later chapters
Summary: Post-Avengers. Loki has returned home after the events in New York to face Asgardian justice. Found guilty, he stands to pay the ultimate price for his crimes. His one chance to live lies in the hands of the girl he once loved and who once loved him. Is there hope of redemption for the god of mischief, even now?
A/N: Please pardon my Frankensteinian usage of Marvel canon, Norse mythology, medieval society and my own, sometimes rather twisted, imagination. This will be a fairly long, multi-chaptered fic that I hope to update every two to three weeks as the chapters are completed and betaed. Many, many groveling thanks are due to the inimitable dmacabre for the red text of death as well as hashing out plot points and being all to happy to tell me when my story line is weak as a wet paper bag. Of course, sometimes I ignore her, usually to my disadvantage. Anything left screwy at this point is undoubtedly where I chose to disregard her sage advice.
"My papa says I have to marry you." The little girl glared down at him with her arms crossed and a look of deep misgiving on her face. "But I don't want to."
Puzzled blue eyes blinked back up at her from behind a thick fringe of black hair. He had been reading intently until she came stomping through the underbrush and found him, despite his excellent hiding place, and it took a moment before the fog of his absorption lifted sufficiently enough that he could follow what she was saying. The heavy old tome he had smuggled out from the palace library lay open in his lap; one slender hand still poised mid-page turn as he regarded his little interloper.
It was shady and dim beneath the protective canopy of leaves, but stray beams of sunlight seemed to be drawn to the fiery little girl with the messy red hair. They worked their way through the branches and lit her curls with red and gold sparks like a jagged halo. Her very presence in the palace gardens during the military fete, which he was supposed to be attending, meant that she was one of the officer’s daughters. The elaborate finery she wore further marked her as nobility, though her fine, white gown was now liberally streaked with mud and grass from her foray through the underbrush. He didn't need to work out which of his father's generals she belonged to though. He knew who she was.
"You were well named, Rowan of the house of Ulf,"
"I was named for the color on my father's crest, not my hair, Loki Odinson," she replied with haughty irritation that spoke of frequent, and unwelcome, repetition.
Loki shrugged. "Then it is fortuitous that your hair was so obliging as to accommodate your name. Think how confusing it would have been had you ended up with yellow hair." He held her gaze for a beat and then returned his attention to his book, adding, "And that is fine. You don't have to marry me if you don't want to."
She narrowed her moss colored eyes at him, mulling over his words and weighing them for signs of mockery. "I don't?"
"No," he said, slowly leafing through the thick pages of his book, "you don't".
"Are you sure? Papa was most adamant." She glanced over her shoulder as if looking for the man in question. The hum of voices carried from the pavilion on the other side of the gardens where the king honored and entertained his military guests, but Loki had chosen his hiding place carefully and they were well concealed. They were much more likely to be spied by the ravens in the trees above them than any of the merrymakers on the lawn.
"Of course I'm sure. They cannot make you say the words, can they?" he said. "Nor can they force you to bind yourself at your betrothal. You have to do that part on your own." He turned another page and glanced back up at her with a quick smile. "Do not worry, Rowan Ulfsdotter, when the time comes, you do not have to marry me if you do not wish to."
"Oh... Well, that's good then." She thought for a moment longer and then gave a decisive nod and marched over and sat down next to him, tucking her skirts under her legs the way that her mother was forever telling her not to. "What are you reading?"
"A book."
"I know it's a book.” She gave him a sharp poke in the side with a bony elbow. "I want to know what book it is."
Wordlessly, he tilted it towards her.
She gave an exasperated sigh. "I cannot read yet, you know."
"Surely, you know your letters?"
"Well of course I know my letters. I am not a baby. I merely cannot read yet." She scooted closer to him and angled her head to see the page over his shoulder. "What is it? There are not many pictures."
"Those aren't pictures, they're maps.” He pointed to the collections of squiggly lines on the page. "It is a history of our realm."
"Read it to me," she commanded, belatedly remembering to add, "If you please".
The boy looked down at the intent face of the little, red-headed girl and, with a shrug that was more mental than physical, flipped back to the front of the book and started reading aloud from the first page. "Greatest of the nine realms, it is Asgard that sits upon the top of Yggdrasil, a pinnacle of both beauty and defensive capability looking down from the height of the World Tree onto the other worlds." He stopped and regarded her doubtfully. "Are you sure you want me to read this to you? You may find it...boring."
"No, I want you to read it." She assured him, pillowing her head against his arm to better view the pages. She reached out and delicately traced the ornately painted letters with a single finger. "Papa said I am to start taking my lessons with you and your brother, here in the palace."
"Yes, I have heard that also."
"Will I learn to read then? Will you teach me?" She looked up at him, green eyes shining and he laughed.
"You will learn to read, but I'm afraid it is not I that will teach you. I have my own lessons as well, you see. My brother and I must learn things also. Our master, Dagur, will teach you alongside Thor and I."
"What things must you learn?"
"Oh many things; history, strategy, mathematics and magics and then we also train with sword and shield." He flipped pages and showed her an intricate drawing of two men in full regalia, one dark and one light, swords crossed in battle. "Father says that we may choose our own weapons once when we have mastered them all. He says a king must be familiar with all forms of weaponry as he never knows when he may end up on the pointy end of one of them." He smiled and touched the crossed swords on the page.
"Will you be king one day?"
Loki’s finger tightened, lightly smudging the ancient drawing. He pulled his hand away as though burned and rubbed the offending digit in the grass, wiping traces of ink from his fingers. The dark knight's sword blurred on the page. "No," he said, "I will not. My brother is older by several years. It is he who will be king."
"Oh good," Rowan sounded relieved. "I don't think a king ever gets to have any fun, do you?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her and then laughed, a full-throated and musical sound that startled a pair of birds in the branches above them into panicked flight. "Not that you would notice, no." His voice was tinged with wry amusement. He thumbed the heavy pages of his book back to the first page, still smiling. "Now, I would like very much to get back to my book. Shall I read it to you or no?"
"Yes, please do," Rowan snuggled down next to him, her bright head nestled close to his dark one, and listened raptly as he began reading once more.
The sun tracked slowly across the sky as ancient wars were re-waged and epic battles fought over again in a distant corner of the palace gardens. In cultured tones, and with a surprising flair for dramatic story-telling, the boy read to her of conquering heroes and treacherous villains, of victorious kings and vanquished despots, of dynasties that rose to power and fell to ruin in a few short pages, of warriors and wizards, advisors and adversaries, of worlds so different from their own as to be nearly unimaginable. Rowan listened, entranced, as the shadows lengthened and the air beneath the trees began to cool with the approach of evening, unconcerned by either the questing insects or the passage of time.
Several hundred years worth of Asgardian tragedies and triumphs later, their oasis beneath the trees was noisily invaded as a golden-haired boy, tall and broadly built, came barreling through the low hanging branches of their hideaway. "There you are, Loki! Father has been looking everywhere for you!" He ducked back through the leaves and called, "They're here, Father, both of them!"
Loki sighed and closed the book. "Well, that's that then." He stood and brushed himself off and then bent over to pick up the green cloak he had been sitting on and eyed it doubtfully. Shaking off the worst of the dirt and debris, he threw it over his shoulder and then hefted the massive book, staggering slightly under its awkward weight. Rowan came and stood next to him in solidarity, absently scratching a bug bite on her ankle.
Seconds later, the branches were swept out of the way to admit the imposing figure of Odin, the All-Father, resplendent in full military regalia, as well as Rowan's own father and anxious mother with Loki's beaming elder brother bringing up the rear. Lene descended upon them with her skirts fluttering around her like the wings of an overwrought bird.
"Child, have you no sense?!" She cried. We were so worried! I had you kidnapped by Frost Giants, at least!" She crushed her wayward offspring to her bosom.
Rowan's fair cheeks flushed as dark as her hair. "We were fine, Mama," she said, as she attempted to extricate herself from her mother's embrace. "I still do not want to marry him, but he is nice. He read me stories about our realm."
It was her mother's turn to blush. "I...I am sorry," she stammered as her king looked on in amusement. "She is a good girl. She's just..."
Rowan's father, however, roared with laughter and slapped Odin heartily on the back. "It would seem our excellent match does not meet with universal approval, my friend!"
Odin chuckled, reaching out to tousle Loki's dark hair, which the boy tolerated with equanimity. "We shall simply have to hope that they grow to like one another better with age." He turned to his other son who stood bouncing on the balls of his feet, unable, as usual, to tolerate being still. "Thor, run back and find your mother. Tell her the children are found and safe."
"Yes, father," Thor said, and with a short bow took off like a red and gold blur through the trees, crashing gracelessly through the foliage in his haste.
"I am sorry, my king," Lene said quietly, eyes downcast as she worked bits of leaves and grass out of her scowling daughter's riotous hair. "She is a good girl and I think...no, I know she will one day make a good wife for your son. It is just that she is so headstrong..."
"I pray that you will not worry yourself, my lady." Odin smiled gently at the flustered woman. "They are yet young. I have every confidence that, given time, they will each grow to fit the roles that they are meant to play."
"That they will," Ulf agreed heartily. He swept Rowan up into his arms, shrieking. "Given time." He grinned down at his red-faced, protesting offspring. "And now, All-Father, I fear my family must beg off the remainder of today's festivities. I believe the extra excitement has been rather taxing. My good wife needs to rest."
Lene gave her bear of a husband an affectionate glance, her hands going automatically to the gentle swell of her belly. Ulf's eyes shone as he looked down at his wife, briefly covering both of her hands with one of his.
Odin smiled at the unconsciously protective gesture. "Certainly she must. I will have one of the palace chariots escort you home." He gestured for them to precede him out of the hollow below the trees, following behind with a hand on his son's shoulder. "You will be missed at the banquet this evening, my friend. How we will get on without your endless supply of battle-field stories at my expense, I'm not sure I know." He stopped at edge of the trees, bringing Loki to a halt next to him with a squeeze of his hand.
Ulf laughed. "Enjoy the reprieve, my king!" he called back as he led his family across the darkening lawn.
Rowan squirmed her way upright in her father's arms and leaned over his shoulder. “Bye, Loki!" She called, waving her hand, pale and indistinct in the failing light. "See you soon so you can read to me again...okay?"
"Goodbye, Rowan," Loki called in return. He braced the book against his chest, freeing a hand to wave back
Once the family had been swallowed by the gloom, little Rowan protesting the whole way that she 'wasn't a bit tired', Odin turned to his son. "Walk with me, Loki."
"Yes, father." He hitched the book once more and caught up as Odin began to slowly pace the perimeter of the garden. Across the lawn, the palace servants were dismantling the trappings of the outdoor celebration and preparing to move inside for the banquet that would bring the annual festivities to an end. Mouth-watering aromas carried on the evening breeze from the busy kitchens and Loki realized suddenly that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. His stomach rumbled loudly.
Odin chuckled. "Don't worry, my son. I will not keep you long. You may be off to your dinner in a moment." He took a few steps and added, "And you needn't fret that you are in trouble for your disappearing act this afternoon either...that is, you are, but only if your mother gets a hold of you. You know how she is when it comes to matters of decorum at official functions. I, for one, think that your time was better spent getting to know young Rowan. I must ask, what did you think of her?"
Loki hesitated and then shrugged, "She's rather skinny."
Odin barked a laugh. "Well, yes, she is at that. She's still quite young, however. I imagine she will fill out in time."
"She doesn't want to marry me.” He scuffed the toe of his boot in the leaf fall. "I told her that she didn't have to if she didn't want to."
Odin looked at his son, quizzically. "Oh you did, did you?"
"Our betrothal is years and years away. She'll likely get used to the idea before then. I just didn't think I could stand to have her stomping around, glaring at me like a wounded tiger for the foreseeable future, especially if she is going to be joining Thor and I at our lessons." He shrugged again. "Besides, it's technically true. I looked it up. The blood bond must be willingly given or else it cannot be invoked and no marriage can take place."
The All-Father regarded his son with admiration tinged with amusement. "You have certainly gotten a better handle on the concept of diplomacy than your brother has," he said, smiling. They walked in silence for a moment, listening as the night insects came alive, singing trilling songs into the darkness. Overhead, the silver sphere of the moon shone down on them, lighting their way.
"He will need you by his side when the time comes, you know." Odin cast a sidelong glance at his younger son who walked with his head down and his arms clasped across the great book, hugging it to his chest. "When Thor is king, you must advise him, help him to make the political choices, convince him that not every obstacle placed in his path calls for a battering ram." He sighed. "Your brother, I am afraid to say, lacks something in the way of tact."
Loki looked surprised, and then smiled. "Yes, father. Of course I will do all that I can for Thor when the time comes."
"I know that you will, Loki. You are a good brother...and son." Odin smiled down at him, the light in his eye due to more than simply the reflection from the moon.
They finished their circuit of the gardens near the door to the kitchens and Odin released Loki to his dinner with a wave. "Do not forget to return that book to the library before you sit down to your meal, Loki," he cautioned. "Noll will be most displeased if anything should happen to it. It is one of the jewels of his collection, you know."
"I know father." He tightened his hold on the book as his ink smudged fingers seemed to burn in memory. "And I will." He turned to go.
"Loki." Odin called him back.
"Yes, father?"
"Are you pleased with her? With Rowan? I hope you do not feel singled out or set apart because of this arrangement. I know it must seem unnecessarily early to you, but Ulf was anxious to have his daughter's future settled before he must leave on his next campaign. Your mother and I wanted to ensure the best match possible for you...as we do for Thor as well, but your circumstances are very different."
Loki nodded, trying to ignore the unpleasant tightness that settled in his chest. "I understand, of course. Thor must have a queen, whereas I..."
"Whereas you are free to make an excellent match with an excellent family." His father headed him off emphatically. He placed a calloused hand on the back of his son's neck and gazed at him levelly. "Thor will likely be obliged to marry for entirely political reasons with no regard to feeling or sentiment. It will settle some absurd dispute or assure peace with another realm or something equally unlikely to guarantee him a long and happy union with a woman he can love and respect. He may still be fortunate, it is certainly possible, but for you at least, your mother and I were grateful to seize the opportunity to see you so advantageously settled. Rowan's father has been my friend and protector for years beyond reckoning. We grew up practically as brothers, as close as you and Thor, after he came to foster at the palace as a child. I cannot remember a time when he was not by my side when it mattered most. He is a good man - the best of men, in fact - and while your union with his daughter brings much favor upon his house, it will also go far in helping to reinforce our ties with Vanaheimr through his line. It is also the one I would have chosen for you out of every other family in all of Asgard, no matter their standing. She will grow up next to you, live as you live, learn as you learn, and then, one day, she will be a part of you, will complete a piece of you that you didn't even know was missing. She will ever be there for you, protecting your blind side."
Loki furrowed his brow, puzzled. "My what?"
"Your home, my son. Your family...and, not to be too poetic about it, your heart. She will be your greatest defender behind the lines. Never let anyone tell you that a woman cannot, or should not, be fierce. They are stronger and more powerful than they are given credit for." He smiled. "Just look at your mother."
Loki nodded slowly, and stared out into the moonlit night thoughtfully. "She liked that I read to her," he said eventually. "And she didn't prattle on or fidget. She actually sat still and listened the whole time."
"It's a start," Odin said, patting the boy on his back. "And a start is all you need. The rest will fall into place...given time."
My one non-original fic is, you guessed it, Loki-centric. It's been living in my brain for *months* now and it's time it saw the light of day. I have written five chapters that are more or less complete, though not sequential. I've still got quite a lot of writing left to go, but I know if I wait until it's done, which is what I initially intended to do, Thor: The Dark World will have already hit the theaters and screwed up my canon. Past experience tells me that, if that happens, I will have a hard time carrying on with my story, especially if no one has seen it but me and my long suffering reader dmacabre (I hesitate to call her a beta because I have specifically asked her only to give me her overall thoughts rather than nitpick it for me).
So, I'm kicking this party off with Chapter 1 and hoping this will help give me the motivation I need to keep working on it until it is *done*!
Should you take the time to visit my little world, I would greatly appreciate any concrit you might like to throw my way.
Title: Seek and Find
Characters: Loki/OC pairing
Rating: PG, rating will change in later chapters
Summary: Post-Avengers. Loki has returned home after the events in New York to face Asgardian justice. Found guilty, he stands to pay the ultimate price for his crimes. His one chance to live lies in the hands of the girl he once loved and who once loved him. Is there hope of redemption for the god of mischief, even now?
A/N: Please pardon my Frankensteinian usage of Marvel canon, Norse mythology, medieval society and my own, sometimes rather twisted, imagination. This will be a fairly long, multi-chaptered fic that I hope to update every two to three weeks as the chapters are completed and betaed. Many, many groveling thanks are due to the inimitable dmacabre for the red text of death as well as hashing out plot points and being all to happy to tell me when my story line is weak as a wet paper bag. Of course, sometimes I ignore her, usually to my disadvantage. Anything left screwy at this point is undoubtedly where I chose to disregard her sage advice.
"My papa says I have to marry you." The little girl glared down at him with her arms crossed and a look of deep misgiving on her face. "But I don't want to."
Puzzled blue eyes blinked back up at her from behind a thick fringe of black hair. He had been reading intently until she came stomping through the underbrush and found him, despite his excellent hiding place, and it took a moment before the fog of his absorption lifted sufficiently enough that he could follow what she was saying. The heavy old tome he had smuggled out from the palace library lay open in his lap; one slender hand still poised mid-page turn as he regarded his little interloper.
It was shady and dim beneath the protective canopy of leaves, but stray beams of sunlight seemed to be drawn to the fiery little girl with the messy red hair. They worked their way through the branches and lit her curls with red and gold sparks like a jagged halo. Her very presence in the palace gardens during the military fete, which he was supposed to be attending, meant that she was one of the officer’s daughters. The elaborate finery she wore further marked her as nobility, though her fine, white gown was now liberally streaked with mud and grass from her foray through the underbrush. He didn't need to work out which of his father's generals she belonged to though. He knew who she was.
"You were well named, Rowan of the house of Ulf,"
"I was named for the color on my father's crest, not my hair, Loki Odinson," she replied with haughty irritation that spoke of frequent, and unwelcome, repetition.
Loki shrugged. "Then it is fortuitous that your hair was so obliging as to accommodate your name. Think how confusing it would have been had you ended up with yellow hair." He held her gaze for a beat and then returned his attention to his book, adding, "And that is fine. You don't have to marry me if you don't want to."
She narrowed her moss colored eyes at him, mulling over his words and weighing them for signs of mockery. "I don't?"
"No," he said, slowly leafing through the thick pages of his book, "you don't".
"Are you sure? Papa was most adamant." She glanced over her shoulder as if looking for the man in question. The hum of voices carried from the pavilion on the other side of the gardens where the king honored and entertained his military guests, but Loki had chosen his hiding place carefully and they were well concealed. They were much more likely to be spied by the ravens in the trees above them than any of the merrymakers on the lawn.
"Of course I'm sure. They cannot make you say the words, can they?" he said. "Nor can they force you to bind yourself at your betrothal. You have to do that part on your own." He turned another page and glanced back up at her with a quick smile. "Do not worry, Rowan Ulfsdotter, when the time comes, you do not have to marry me if you do not wish to."
"Oh... Well, that's good then." She thought for a moment longer and then gave a decisive nod and marched over and sat down next to him, tucking her skirts under her legs the way that her mother was forever telling her not to. "What are you reading?"
"A book."
"I know it's a book.” She gave him a sharp poke in the side with a bony elbow. "I want to know what book it is."
Wordlessly, he tilted it towards her.
She gave an exasperated sigh. "I cannot read yet, you know."
"Surely, you know your letters?"
"Well of course I know my letters. I am not a baby. I merely cannot read yet." She scooted closer to him and angled her head to see the page over his shoulder. "What is it? There are not many pictures."
"Those aren't pictures, they're maps.” He pointed to the collections of squiggly lines on the page. "It is a history of our realm."
"Read it to me," she commanded, belatedly remembering to add, "If you please".
The boy looked down at the intent face of the little, red-headed girl and, with a shrug that was more mental than physical, flipped back to the front of the book and started reading aloud from the first page. "Greatest of the nine realms, it is Asgard that sits upon the top of Yggdrasil, a pinnacle of both beauty and defensive capability looking down from the height of the World Tree onto the other worlds." He stopped and regarded her doubtfully. "Are you sure you want me to read this to you? You may find it...boring."
"No, I want you to read it." She assured him, pillowing her head against his arm to better view the pages. She reached out and delicately traced the ornately painted letters with a single finger. "Papa said I am to start taking my lessons with you and your brother, here in the palace."
"Yes, I have heard that also."
"Will I learn to read then? Will you teach me?" She looked up at him, green eyes shining and he laughed.
"You will learn to read, but I'm afraid it is not I that will teach you. I have my own lessons as well, you see. My brother and I must learn things also. Our master, Dagur, will teach you alongside Thor and I."
"What things must you learn?"
"Oh many things; history, strategy, mathematics and magics and then we also train with sword and shield." He flipped pages and showed her an intricate drawing of two men in full regalia, one dark and one light, swords crossed in battle. "Father says that we may choose our own weapons once when we have mastered them all. He says a king must be familiar with all forms of weaponry as he never knows when he may end up on the pointy end of one of them." He smiled and touched the crossed swords on the page.
"Will you be king one day?"
Loki’s finger tightened, lightly smudging the ancient drawing. He pulled his hand away as though burned and rubbed the offending digit in the grass, wiping traces of ink from his fingers. The dark knight's sword blurred on the page. "No," he said, "I will not. My brother is older by several years. It is he who will be king."
"Oh good," Rowan sounded relieved. "I don't think a king ever gets to have any fun, do you?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her and then laughed, a full-throated and musical sound that startled a pair of birds in the branches above them into panicked flight. "Not that you would notice, no." His voice was tinged with wry amusement. He thumbed the heavy pages of his book back to the first page, still smiling. "Now, I would like very much to get back to my book. Shall I read it to you or no?"
"Yes, please do," Rowan snuggled down next to him, her bright head nestled close to his dark one, and listened raptly as he began reading once more.
The sun tracked slowly across the sky as ancient wars were re-waged and epic battles fought over again in a distant corner of the palace gardens. In cultured tones, and with a surprising flair for dramatic story-telling, the boy read to her of conquering heroes and treacherous villains, of victorious kings and vanquished despots, of dynasties that rose to power and fell to ruin in a few short pages, of warriors and wizards, advisors and adversaries, of worlds so different from their own as to be nearly unimaginable. Rowan listened, entranced, as the shadows lengthened and the air beneath the trees began to cool with the approach of evening, unconcerned by either the questing insects or the passage of time.
Several hundred years worth of Asgardian tragedies and triumphs later, their oasis beneath the trees was noisily invaded as a golden-haired boy, tall and broadly built, came barreling through the low hanging branches of their hideaway. "There you are, Loki! Father has been looking everywhere for you!" He ducked back through the leaves and called, "They're here, Father, both of them!"
Loki sighed and closed the book. "Well, that's that then." He stood and brushed himself off and then bent over to pick up the green cloak he had been sitting on and eyed it doubtfully. Shaking off the worst of the dirt and debris, he threw it over his shoulder and then hefted the massive book, staggering slightly under its awkward weight. Rowan came and stood next to him in solidarity, absently scratching a bug bite on her ankle.
Seconds later, the branches were swept out of the way to admit the imposing figure of Odin, the All-Father, resplendent in full military regalia, as well as Rowan's own father and anxious mother with Loki's beaming elder brother bringing up the rear. Lene descended upon them with her skirts fluttering around her like the wings of an overwrought bird.
"Child, have you no sense?!" She cried. We were so worried! I had you kidnapped by Frost Giants, at least!" She crushed her wayward offspring to her bosom.
Rowan's fair cheeks flushed as dark as her hair. "We were fine, Mama," she said, as she attempted to extricate herself from her mother's embrace. "I still do not want to marry him, but he is nice. He read me stories about our realm."
It was her mother's turn to blush. "I...I am sorry," she stammered as her king looked on in amusement. "She is a good girl. She's just..."
Rowan's father, however, roared with laughter and slapped Odin heartily on the back. "It would seem our excellent match does not meet with universal approval, my friend!"
Odin chuckled, reaching out to tousle Loki's dark hair, which the boy tolerated with equanimity. "We shall simply have to hope that they grow to like one another better with age." He turned to his other son who stood bouncing on the balls of his feet, unable, as usual, to tolerate being still. "Thor, run back and find your mother. Tell her the children are found and safe."
"Yes, father," Thor said, and with a short bow took off like a red and gold blur through the trees, crashing gracelessly through the foliage in his haste.
"I am sorry, my king," Lene said quietly, eyes downcast as she worked bits of leaves and grass out of her scowling daughter's riotous hair. "She is a good girl and I think...no, I know she will one day make a good wife for your son. It is just that she is so headstrong..."
"I pray that you will not worry yourself, my lady." Odin smiled gently at the flustered woman. "They are yet young. I have every confidence that, given time, they will each grow to fit the roles that they are meant to play."
"That they will," Ulf agreed heartily. He swept Rowan up into his arms, shrieking. "Given time." He grinned down at his red-faced, protesting offspring. "And now, All-Father, I fear my family must beg off the remainder of today's festivities. I believe the extra excitement has been rather taxing. My good wife needs to rest."
Lene gave her bear of a husband an affectionate glance, her hands going automatically to the gentle swell of her belly. Ulf's eyes shone as he looked down at his wife, briefly covering both of her hands with one of his.
Odin smiled at the unconsciously protective gesture. "Certainly she must. I will have one of the palace chariots escort you home." He gestured for them to precede him out of the hollow below the trees, following behind with a hand on his son's shoulder. "You will be missed at the banquet this evening, my friend. How we will get on without your endless supply of battle-field stories at my expense, I'm not sure I know." He stopped at edge of the trees, bringing Loki to a halt next to him with a squeeze of his hand.
Ulf laughed. "Enjoy the reprieve, my king!" he called back as he led his family across the darkening lawn.
Rowan squirmed her way upright in her father's arms and leaned over his shoulder. “Bye, Loki!" She called, waving her hand, pale and indistinct in the failing light. "See you soon so you can read to me again...okay?"
"Goodbye, Rowan," Loki called in return. He braced the book against his chest, freeing a hand to wave back
Once the family had been swallowed by the gloom, little Rowan protesting the whole way that she 'wasn't a bit tired', Odin turned to his son. "Walk with me, Loki."
"Yes, father." He hitched the book once more and caught up as Odin began to slowly pace the perimeter of the garden. Across the lawn, the palace servants were dismantling the trappings of the outdoor celebration and preparing to move inside for the banquet that would bring the annual festivities to an end. Mouth-watering aromas carried on the evening breeze from the busy kitchens and Loki realized suddenly that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast. His stomach rumbled loudly.
Odin chuckled. "Don't worry, my son. I will not keep you long. You may be off to your dinner in a moment." He took a few steps and added, "And you needn't fret that you are in trouble for your disappearing act this afternoon either...that is, you are, but only if your mother gets a hold of you. You know how she is when it comes to matters of decorum at official functions. I, for one, think that your time was better spent getting to know young Rowan. I must ask, what did you think of her?"
Loki hesitated and then shrugged, "She's rather skinny."
Odin barked a laugh. "Well, yes, she is at that. She's still quite young, however. I imagine she will fill out in time."
"She doesn't want to marry me.” He scuffed the toe of his boot in the leaf fall. "I told her that she didn't have to if she didn't want to."
Odin looked at his son, quizzically. "Oh you did, did you?"
"Our betrothal is years and years away. She'll likely get used to the idea before then. I just didn't think I could stand to have her stomping around, glaring at me like a wounded tiger for the foreseeable future, especially if she is going to be joining Thor and I at our lessons." He shrugged again. "Besides, it's technically true. I looked it up. The blood bond must be willingly given or else it cannot be invoked and no marriage can take place."
The All-Father regarded his son with admiration tinged with amusement. "You have certainly gotten a better handle on the concept of diplomacy than your brother has," he said, smiling. They walked in silence for a moment, listening as the night insects came alive, singing trilling songs into the darkness. Overhead, the silver sphere of the moon shone down on them, lighting their way.
"He will need you by his side when the time comes, you know." Odin cast a sidelong glance at his younger son who walked with his head down and his arms clasped across the great book, hugging it to his chest. "When Thor is king, you must advise him, help him to make the political choices, convince him that not every obstacle placed in his path calls for a battering ram." He sighed. "Your brother, I am afraid to say, lacks something in the way of tact."
Loki looked surprised, and then smiled. "Yes, father. Of course I will do all that I can for Thor when the time comes."
"I know that you will, Loki. You are a good brother...and son." Odin smiled down at him, the light in his eye due to more than simply the reflection from the moon.
They finished their circuit of the gardens near the door to the kitchens and Odin released Loki to his dinner with a wave. "Do not forget to return that book to the library before you sit down to your meal, Loki," he cautioned. "Noll will be most displeased if anything should happen to it. It is one of the jewels of his collection, you know."
"I know father." He tightened his hold on the book as his ink smudged fingers seemed to burn in memory. "And I will." He turned to go.
"Loki." Odin called him back.
"Yes, father?"
"Are you pleased with her? With Rowan? I hope you do not feel singled out or set apart because of this arrangement. I know it must seem unnecessarily early to you, but Ulf was anxious to have his daughter's future settled before he must leave on his next campaign. Your mother and I wanted to ensure the best match possible for you...as we do for Thor as well, but your circumstances are very different."
Loki nodded, trying to ignore the unpleasant tightness that settled in his chest. "I understand, of course. Thor must have a queen, whereas I..."
"Whereas you are free to make an excellent match with an excellent family." His father headed him off emphatically. He placed a calloused hand on the back of his son's neck and gazed at him levelly. "Thor will likely be obliged to marry for entirely political reasons with no regard to feeling or sentiment. It will settle some absurd dispute or assure peace with another realm or something equally unlikely to guarantee him a long and happy union with a woman he can love and respect. He may still be fortunate, it is certainly possible, but for you at least, your mother and I were grateful to seize the opportunity to see you so advantageously settled. Rowan's father has been my friend and protector for years beyond reckoning. We grew up practically as brothers, as close as you and Thor, after he came to foster at the palace as a child. I cannot remember a time when he was not by my side when it mattered most. He is a good man - the best of men, in fact - and while your union with his daughter brings much favor upon his house, it will also go far in helping to reinforce our ties with Vanaheimr through his line. It is also the one I would have chosen for you out of every other family in all of Asgard, no matter their standing. She will grow up next to you, live as you live, learn as you learn, and then, one day, she will be a part of you, will complete a piece of you that you didn't even know was missing. She will ever be there for you, protecting your blind side."
Loki furrowed his brow, puzzled. "My what?"
"Your home, my son. Your family...and, not to be too poetic about it, your heart. She will be your greatest defender behind the lines. Never let anyone tell you that a woman cannot, or should not, be fierce. They are stronger and more powerful than they are given credit for." He smiled. "Just look at your mother."
Loki nodded slowly, and stared out into the moonlit night thoughtfully. "She liked that I read to her," he said eventually. "And she didn't prattle on or fidget. She actually sat still and listened the whole time."
"It's a start," Odin said, patting the boy on his back. "And a start is all you need. The rest will fall into place...given time."