Boda stood wrapped in a towel, her hair damp, before the fogged mirror on the wall over the vanity with a chip in its worn formica top in the slightly larger than closet sized bathroom. Plugging in the hair dryer that sat upon it, she reached out to wipe the mirror with her hand, drawing it back as a green glow quickly progressed from the top to the bottom of the mirror, clearing it.
“Thanks-” Boda said, turning her head to witness the same green glow descend over Loki who stood to her right, a towel around his waist, rendering his hair and body completely dry.
“I could do the same for you,” Loki offered.
“I’ll do it the old fashioned way. I’m used to it now,” Boda replied.
“Suit yourself,” Loki responded, shuffling in the tight space to stand half behind Boda, appearing over her right shoulder in the mirror, smoothing his hair behind his ears, “I’ve been considering growing it out a bit further. What do you think?”
“I think it would look nice. I always wondered how you ended up with dark hair when your mother’s and father’s is fair.”
“I broached that subject with my mother as a child. She said her grandfather had dark hair as well.”
“I always wished I had dark hair. It’s fairly unique in Asgard. I just blended into the crowd. I never understood what you saw in me.”
“Many things…” said Loki, placing a hand on Boda’s shoulder as she stared at her reflection.
“However many they weren’t enough,” Boda said, picking up a paddle brush from the vanity and running it through her wet locks.
Loki took the brush from Boda’s hand, returning it to the vanity before gripping her shoulders, turning her to face him.
“It wasn’t a matter of finding you lacking.”
“Then what was it?” asked Boda.
“I’m never satisfied...with anything. It’s who I am,” Loki explained.
“Why then do you believe you would find satisfaction in a throne?”
“I was born to be a king. Once I’ve fulfilled that destiny, perhaps I’ll find it simpler to find satisfaction in other things.”
“If you become king--” Boda began.
“When,” Loki interjected.
“When...will you bring me home? I don’t care about getting my magic back. I’ve survived just fine without it. I’ll...I’ll build a little cottage somewhere away from everyone, I’ll become a hermit, I practically am anyway...I won’t trouble you, I swear it...I just want to see it again. I...I don’t want to die here,” Boda said, her voice breaking.
“I give you my word,” Loki replied reassuringly, “After all, half of being a king is looking the part. I’ll need someone to polish my helmet.”
Boda stared at Loki for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles.
“What’s so funny? The armourers are useless. I used to bring it to you. You always did a fine job,” said Loki, seemingly oblivious to the double entendre.
“I need to get ready. So do you. Get dressed. Out! Out!” Boda said, laughing, reaching around him in the small space and opening the door, placing both hands on his chest and pushing him through it into the hallway and closing it.
Loki stood with the towel around his waist in front of the door, staring at it in silence for a moment before a wide grin spread over his face. As he heard the whine of the hair dryer commence, he turned and took a step across the hallway to Boda’s bedroom, opening the door and entering.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Loki exited the bedroom fully dressed, the bathroom door still shut, the sound of the hair dryer continuing. A few feet farther down the hallway he spied another door of which he had previously taken no notice. He stepped over to it, gripping the doorknob, beginning to turn it.
The sound of the hairdryer ceased, the bathroom door opening, Boda exiting into the hallway wrapped in the towel, her long, straight honey hued hair dry, light from the fixture above glinting off the clean strands.
“What are you doing?” asked Boda as she noticed Loki.
“What’s in here?” Loki asked.
“It’s just a guest room.”
“Do you often have guests?”
“No...I use it for storage and to paint...though I haven’t had much time to do that. There’s nothing to see--” Boda explained as Loki turned the knob, opening it.
Inside the room was a small twin bed, the mattress stripped of bedding, a lamp setting on a nightstand. An old, clearly second hand dresser was placed against the far wall. Boxes were stacked along the opposite wall. A few canvases with painted scenes, obviously of Asgard, leaned against another wall. An easel and stool sat in the middle of the room, a painter’s palette and a caddy of paints and brushes setting on a small table beside it. On the easel was a painted portrait in profile of a man Loki easily recognized, himself, sporting the helmet he had previously mentioned. Loki entered the room, crossing to the easel, standing before it, examining the artwork.
Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.
“As I told you,” Boda said, pausing for a moment, “What did you think you were going to find?” Boda asked.
“The rotting corpses of your enemies perhaps,” Loki quipped.
“I rent a storage shed for those,” Boda retorted.
“You painted this?”
“It’s not finished yet.”
“You never painted in Asgard.”
“They were offering free classes at the community center a few years ago. I needed a hobby. Something to occupy my time. I should have chosen a cheaper one. The paints are expensive.”
“It’s a true likeness. Well done,” Loki complimented Boda.
“Thank you.”
Loki’s expression changed from astonishment to a grin as he turned from the portrait to face Boda.
“Perhaps you could do another in the future...for my coronation.”
“There are far better artists in Asgard. I need to get dressed,” Boda said, backing out of the room, Loki turning back to the portrait as he heard the door to her bedroom close.
Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something grey and furry sticking out from under the bed. Crossing to the bed he retrieved a small stuffed wolf.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Boda, dressed in a long sleeved blouse and jeans, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, drove down the street, Loki in the passenger seat appearing to be deep in thought. As she prepared to turn onto the ramp en route to their destination, she reached over, turning on the radio.
“Somebody, ooh somebody, can anybody find me somebody to love?” Freddie Mercury crooned.
“What are you doing?” Loki asked.
“I thought we could listen to some music,” Boda said, glancing over at Loki, “You don't seem to be in the mood to talk. Is something wrong?”
“Not at all, other than the fact you’re to meet up with a criminal in the business of trafficking stolen goods.”
“I’m a criminal too...in case you’ve forgotten,” Boda replied.
“What do you know of this person? Who is he...or she as the case may be?”
“His name’s Dario Agger. He’s originally from Greece. He’s a businessman, a very rich businessman, the CEO of Roxxon Energy.”
“How did you make the acquaintance of someone of his stature?” Loki inquired.
“He was at a conference. He decided to go for a drink afterwards and stumbled upon my place.”
“Someone of his status stopped for a drink at your tavern?”
“My booze is just as good as anyone else’s. Actually he said he prefers to search out smaller bars, out of the way places when he visits a city instead of the swanky high class joints. He said he feels more comfortable, like just an everyday normal guy. He’s not the first I’ve heard that from. I’ve had a few other upper class customers tell me similar things. They like to get a feel for what the city and the people are really like, not the image in the tourist brochures.”
“Sensible. So what is it he’s offered you in exchange?”
“Something I once thought there was no chance I’d ever have.”
“Can anybody find me somebody to love?” Mercury pleaded once again through the stereo.
Loki reached over, turning off the music, Boda glancing at him before returning her attention to the road.
“Why did you do that?”
“Do they play anything other than morons mewling about being alone? It’s pathetic.”
“I like that song.”
“Does it remind you of someone as well?” Loki asked in a disgruntled tone.
“It does, actually...a moron I know who used to mewl about being alone, who likely still does, which I could never understand because he wasn’t,” Boda said, Loki rolling his eyes with a vocalization of exasperation in response.
“Enough. Spare me. As I said I'm-”
“Not a man who's easily satisfied. I’d heard that little speech before. I don’t doubt that’s true, but that isn’t the whole story.”
“I’m not ready to settle into my dotage.”
“You equate love with being old?”
“I consider it a life sentence in a cell in the dungeon. It may be a very nice cell, but that doesn’t change the fact it’s a cell,” Loki responded.
“And what will you do when you wake up one day and realize you’re ready but you really are alone because you’ve pushed everyone away?”
“If I had been anyone else...a fisherman, a mason...can you honestly say you would have had the slightest interest?”
“It would have been easier. Do you have any idea what it was like for me to feel as if I had to meet this impossible standard to be worthy of you, a prince of Asgard? I spent nearly every waking moment trying to think of new ways to impress you, hoping against hope each time that maybe this time it would be enough.”
Loki was silent for a moment before slowly moving his hand to rest on Boda’s thigh, Boda taking no action to remove it.
“I do...I understand quite well, actually.”
Boda, processing Loki’s words, was silent for a moment.
“I suppose you do.”
“Well... this has been quite a rousing discussion, but perhaps it’s time to begin paying attention to the black Cadillac that’s been tailing us since shortly after we left your little hovel.”
“What?” Boda asked in shock, turning her head to look over her shoulder.
“Don’t look! That’s what you have a mirror for!” Loki hissed.
“They’ll know I’m not alone!”
“If he wants what you have badly enough it won’t matter.”
“You don’t understand! This deal has to happen! It has to!”
“Take the next exit,” Loki instructed Boda.
Boda changed lanes and complied, the black car following suit.
“They’re definitely following us,” Boda said.
“That hotel...” Loki said, pointing ahead.
"I'm sure they would wait longer than two minutes," Boda teased, glancing over at Loki with a smirk.
"The water was quite chilly by the time we vacated the shower," Loki retorted.
"My water heater's the size of a milk carton," Boda replied.
"Odin's beard," Loki said under his breath as he rolled his eyes, exasperated.
Upon reaching the drive, Boda pulled in, slowing and stopping in front of the entrance. Loki waited for a moment until the man wheeling a suitcase by the car had entered.
The black Cadillac pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant across the street, parking in an empty space facing the hotel. The two men in dark suits within watched as a dark haired man in a black button down shirt and trousers exited the red car they were observing and walked to the rear of the vehicle, opening the hatch and retrieving a suitcase. Closing the hatch he wheeled the suitcase to the door of the hotel, entering. The red car drove around to the exit, pulling back out onto the busy street.
Boda looked over at the seemingly empty passenger seat.
“I feel like I’m talking to myself.”
“Don’t talk. Drive. Turn on your music. I suppose I can stomach listening to the wailing of simpering fools for a short while.”
Boda reached over, turning the radio on once again, a chorus of voices filling the car.
“If you’re all alone when the pretty birds have flown, honey I’m still free, take a chance on me, gonna do my very best and it ain’t no lie, if you put me to the test, if you let me try...”
“How’s this?” Boda asked.
“Pitifully entreating but I’ll survive."