“Nothing...nothing at all,” Loki answered, feigning a grin, “What?" he asked with a chuckle, noting her skeptical expression, "I'm fine...everything’s fine…well, not everything, obviously…”
“You're a terrible li-” Boda began, Loki cutting her off, catching her off guard with a lustful kiss as he wrapped her in his arms.
Placing her palms on Loki’s chest, Boda in her weakened state struggled to push him back as she turned her head.
“Loki…stop...”
“Do you need wine?” Loki asked as he released her.
“You regret it.”
“Regret what?”
“Breaking with him,” Boda replied.
“No...I-”
“You’ll return to him,” Boda interrupted, Loki casting his eyes down.
"I didn’t break with him. He’s–” Loki began before Boda again interrupted.
“You lied! You never intended to break with him!” Bodie railed, throwing off the blankets and rising quickly from the bed walking around it, making her way to the door.
“If you would be so kind as to allow me to finish!” Loki exclaimed in frustration.
“As always, you want to have your cake and eat it too!” Boda vented angrily as Loki rose from the bed.
“I didn’t lie to you! It seems you took me at my word when I said you were free to do the same. I foolishly believed it went without saying my brother was the one exception!” Loki groused, Boda freezing as she reached the door.
“I wasn’t myself…the eitr…”
“A convenient excuse if your advances proved unwelcome!”
“I’m not listening to this rubbish!” Boda exclaimed as she threw open the door and stalked out past Thor who stood a few feet from the door where he had been listening to their raised voices from within the bedroom, unsure if he should intervene.
Boda continued to the front door of the cottage as Loki reached the bedroom doorway.
“Boda, wait…you can’t go out--” Loki said, Boda ignoring him as she opened the door and exited the cottage, slamming it behind her, “...alone. Damn.”
“Another episode?” Thor asked as Loki in his pajamas followed Boda’s path, walking past him.
“Taking a stroll down memory lane,” Loki replied.
“Perhaps it would be better if I–” Thor began.
“I’ll handle it. After all, am I not an able warrior capable of defending myself?”
“An angry woman can be a more formidable foe than any to be found on a battlefield,” warned Thor.
“I’m well aware,” Loki told Thor as he opened the door and stepped out of the cottage, closing it behind him.
"Uncle Thor?...What's going on? Is it him? Is he here?" Thor heard Vanar ask fearfully, turning to see the boy standing in his bedroom doorway in his pajamas clutching Wolfie to his chest.
"No...no...nothing to worry about. Your mother and father were just having a disagreement as do all parents from time to time. They just stepped out for a stroll. Nothing like the night air to clear the head," Thor said in a reassuring tone as he made his way across the room to Vanar, lifting him up, "Let's get you back to bed. I'll tell you about Nidavellir and my friend Eitri. He made my hammer, you know..."
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Odin stood at the back of the small, dimly lit chamber before making his languid way forward to stand before a wide pedestal upon which rested a golden helmet and a sword. Staring down thoughtfully at the objects for a moment, he slowly reached out, resting his palm on the helmet before the King of Asgard lowered himself to both knees, bowing his head with an air of meditation.
“Bor, son of Buri…Father…since you took your place in the halls of Valhalla I have not disturbed your rest. I beseech you to grant me your presence,” Odin said in a subdued voice.
Odin remained kneeling for a time in silence before rising stiffly from his knees to his feet, taking a final look at the helmet and sword before turning, making his way towards the tall chamber doors.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“My son…you seek my counsel,” said the deep voice of Asgard’s former king, Odin turning to face the image of his father standing before the pedestal.
“I have questions to which only you may have the answers,” Odin said.
“Ask them.”
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Dario, having returned to his human form, sat on the floor against the wall inside the door of the empty tavern, his torso bare, the idol clutched in his hand. The only light within the large room from a single cauldron left burning low in the far corner.
Wincing, he gingerly touched the wound Loki had inflicted with his dagger, staring at his bloody fingers before wiping them off on Arvid’s dark colored pants.
Rising unsteadily to his feet he glanced around, spying a stone counter upon which sat a large cask with a spigot. Making his way to it he sat the idol down and grabbed a goblet nearby, filling it from the cask and drinking from it. Dario looked at the idol, his expression angry as he addressed it.
“You’ll kill me. So what? I’m already dead. I died with her…with them,” Dario said closing his eyes, calling up an image of a woman with curly dark hair and olive toned skin, her abdomen only just beginning to grow rounded from pregnancy, her hand resting on it as she stood on a balcony, the azure blue sea stretching out behind her as she smiled at him, “Dina…” Dario said softly before opening his eyes, picking up the idol, “What if I went back...left you here? What if I--” Dario said, pulling his arm back as if he were a pitcher preparing to hurl a baseball.
Dario dropped the idol onto the counter, grabbing both sides of his head in his hands as waves of intense and excruciating pain exploded from the center of his skull radiating outward. Resting his forehead against the countertop, he groaned as he held back screams of pain, gripping his head and pulling at his hair. As the pain subsided, Dario raised his head, looking in the direction of the door, noticing dark spots on the stone floor following the path he’d taken to the counter where his blood had dripped from his wound as he heard footsteps approaching the tavern.
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“Boda….stop!” Loki called as he caught sight of Boda, following after her, “You can’t be out alone,” Loki said as he trailed behind Boda as she walked along the shore in her nightdress.
“I’m not alone, obviously. I wish I was,” Boda retorted, picking up her pace, attempting to put more distance between herself and Loki, though he knew she couldn't travel much farther as they were approaching the limits of the magical boundary Odin had put in place.
“That can be arranged. My father would be more than happy to welcome you back to your solitary cell in the dungeon.”
“If I’d wanted your brother I could have had him ages ago. All I would have had to do was feed his ego, act in awe of his big hammer...Mjolnir as well,” Boda replied.
“You knew I would come after you,” said Loki.
“You didn’t that day.”
“What day?”
“The day I walked in on you with another...I never learned his name. I doubt you remember it.”
“Ingvar...yes I did.”
“Two hours later you appeared at my door as if nothing had happened. You didn’t even bring flowers. Maybe I was mad then. Even if I’d succeeded, nothing would have changed.”
“I did betray you,” said Loki, Boda halting and turning to face him, “I’m easily able to obfuscate all I do and say from Heimdall. Though I had set you above others I wasn’t ready to pledge fidelity to anyone. It would have meant sacrificing a part of myself I wasn’t yet willing to cast aside. I was afraid you’d tire of waiting. When you told me of your scheme...as I was about to tell you of the Destroyer, it came to me, the answer to my quandary, a way to have my cake and eat it too.”
“If I was in the dungeon or exiled to Midgard I wouldn’t grow weary of waiting and find another,” Boda finished for him.
“I knew it would only be two or three decades until Father chose his heir and stepped down. Though even then I knew he favored my brother, I was certain I could convince Thor to pardon you,” Loki said, Boda staring at him in stunned silence, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I won’t ask for it...Arvid is dead. Dario learned of our plans to meet and murdered him, taking his form to attempt to do the same to me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Boda asked before hanging her head at the sight of Loki’s expression of incredulity, “I’m sorry. I have a tendency to fly off the handle.”
“I never noticed,” Loki quipped.
“I’ve gotten better at controlling it since Vanar’s arrival. Are you alright?”
“I rather quickly sussed out his scheme. I emerged from the encounter relatively unscathed. The same can’t be said for Dario, though he was able to make his escape. He’s quite a skilled mimic. He would likely have fooled even my mother for a time.”
“I doubt that,” Frigga’s voice said, both Boda and Loki turning their heads in surprise to see the Queen of Asgard approach, two einherjar on either side of her.
“Mother? You could have made contact from the safety of the palace.”
“I can project my form, but not this.”
As Frigga reached them, she held out her clenched fist, opening it to reveal a small vial in the palm of her hand.
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The door of the tavern slowly opened, two einherjar with swords drawn cautiously entering the large, dimly lit room, furnished with tables, collections of unlit pillar candles sitting in pools of hardened wax in the center of each.
The einherjar scanned the tavern’s interior as they crept forward, following the droplets of blood on the floor. One of the einherjar put his arm out in front of the other, both coming to a halt, as he heard a breathy whisper.
“Help…..help..me…” pleaded a man in a slurred voice almost too softly to be audible.
“Who’s there?” the einherjar who continued to extend his muscular arm in front of his companion called out.
“Here…please…” the pained, slurred voice struggled to say.
The einherjar started forward again, now following not only the blood trail but also the voice and the sound of labored breathing. Reaching the counter, the einherjar split up, one walking around one side, his partner the other, both rounding it to see the form of a shirtless man lying face down on the gray stone, a knife wound in his back.
“Is he injured or drunk?” The einherjar on the side of the counter nearest Dario’s head asked with a smirk as he noticed the goblet sitting beside the cask.
“Both. Attempting to relieve the pain from his wound he discovered Asgardian ale packs more of a punch than what he’s used to,” the second einherjar chuckled.
“Should we take the cask to be honored by the Allfather along with the two of us for his capture?” the first einherjar joked as he sheathed his sword, producing a pair of Asgardian shackles.