#i dont even care
A trail of roses.
Odd,he thought, as he walked out of his music room and into the hallway. A littering of roses, lying haphazardly in his path as they led to another room further up the corridor. Red the colour of dark crimson blood, but not only that, white, as soft as the snow Erik saw in the cemetery only days before. Amused, he decided to follow the roses, picking his steps carefully so that he wouldn’t crush any of the soft petals underfoot. They led to the door of the dining room.
Softly opening the door, Erik peeked in and any breath that he had in him at that moment quickly escaped from his mouth. The table, which normally remained bare bar from the silver candelabra dripping with wax, had been laid. A crisp, white table cloth had been adorned and in the centre in a crystal vase sat more roses. The yellowed candles were alight, and there by the head of the table, was Christine, fussing around with the placement of some cutlery.
“My love?” Erik said, making Christine jump at his sudden voice. She looked up and smiled, drifting over to wrap her arms around him. He returned the embrace before pulling away and gestured to the table. “What on earth is this?” Christine looked over her shoulder, still smiling.
“Well… Today is the day that we were married three years ago… And you’ve already treated me today so this is my gift to you. I made us dinner!” She laughed then, a delicate little thing, and squeezed his arms, “I hope you like it. I almost burnt the biscuits earlier when you… distractedme.” Erik had the decency to blush at the last comment which only made her laugh more.
“I had no idea…” Christine led him to his seat and bade him to sit down.
“You know, for someone who is so very clever, you can be quite obtuse.” Erik shrugged, fingering the silver cutlery that gleamed like phosphorescent pearls in the light.
“It’s wonderful.” He murmured, his throat thick as he still got a little choked from gifts of love such as this. Christine, knowing her husband well, knew what was going through his mind and kissed him on his forehead. The mask was never worn in her presence and remained in a box in their bedroom for safekeeping.
“I would give you the whole world on a plate if I could, but I’m afraid dinner will have to suffice.”
“You already have.” Erik smiled, placing a hand on his wife’s stomach, marvelling that soon a creation of them both would soon be in this world. Christine smiled sweetly at that and laid her hand atop of his.
“To many more years of us against the world. You, me and… The baby.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“I cannot wait.”
The Price of Alliance: Part Five
The next day, the festivities were beginning. A parade route was being cleared. Space for a grand tournament was decorated. Royal feasts were being prepared in more kitchens than Thor could count.
Thor had refused to apologize for his attack on Zeus, and as a result was banned from celebrating the festival at the royal box or royal table. This was no hardship, especially once he saw that Loki was not at Zeus’s side.
He set out to find him. He needed to know if Zeus had made good on his threats. He needed to apologize. He needed…
He needed to see his brother again.
He had no idea where Loki might go, so he searched the hiding spots he remembered Loki favoring two centuries ago. They were unsurprisingly empty. He searched the market, bustling with activity, excitement high before the festival, and with all the off-world visitors.
He went to their guest quarters, to question the servants, but none would admit to knowing where Loki had gone.
He sat down in despair on a bench. He could be anywhere.
Where would he have gone? What would have stuck with him? What childhood memory of a…
Refuge.
The word and the answer came to him at once. He set off, and, at last, found Loki where he should have expected all along.
Their mother’s garden.
“You remember this place, at least.”
Loki barely turned his head toward him, from where he was slowly searching an herb patch. “Thorn.”
“Thor!” He scowled.
“Are you certain? Mine seems more appropriate.” He plucked two samples from a plant. “I’m allowed a patch of garden on Olympus. I’ve always remembered a few plants we didn’t have. I wonder if anything of Asgard can truly grow there.”
Thor grimaced, wondering if Loki had meant to include himself in that. He shuffled a bit, hand finding his hammer for reassurance, as it often did. He didn’t know what to say. “Mother won’t be here, if you’re waiting for her.” he hazarded. “She’s caught in the festival.”
“I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
And before Thor could make anything of that, he was distracted by a terrible sight. Loki, standing up from his crouch by the herbs. With, pained, jerky, slowness.
His knee trembled, and gave out, and his hand shot out to catch a vine-covered trellis, before he yanked himself up with a muffled gasp of pain. He stood frozen for a moment, panting, before catching Thor’s movement toward him and spinning away with a gasp. “Don’t touch me!”
Thor froze.
Loki backed away, a few stiff steps, and Thor saw how awkwardly he moved. Saw so much more than that. The bruise around his wrists. His throat.
“Loki…”
Loki sighed, heavy irritation at having the deal with him, on top of his own problems. “Leave it alone. Since you’re incapable of actually stopping him. You knock him down, he gets back up, and it’s me he hurts back. Understand, Thorn?”
He twisted the wrong name in his mouth, layering it with more poisonous meaning that Thor could take apart.
“I’m sorry.” He bowed his head. He’d done this. He’d wanted to see if Zeus had gone through with his threat, and now that he had, there was nothing Thor could do about it.
“You didn’t think!” Then Loki shook his head, and turned to limp down toward the next herb patch. Thor heard him mutter “You never…”, before cutting himself off sharply.
He did remember! At least a little! At least something!
More cheered than made sense, Thor followed after Loki. This next herb bed was raised, at least, so Loki could hunt through it without having to get down again. “Can’t I take you to the healers, at least? They would have you healed completely, in minutes!”
Loki snorted. “I have to be much more hurt than this before I’m allowed a healer, Thorn.” He sounded actually amused.
He would tear Zeus’s head off. He would break every bone in his spine. He…
He tried to hide his rage. Loki clearly was neither in need of it, nor impressed.
“It doesn’t seem like you want everyone to see. Why don’t you use illusions to hide it, then?”
Loki went still. After a long second, his hands curled in toward his stomach. “Oh… I… I wasn’t able to… I wasn’t…” He shook his head, sharply, though the tension in his shoulders stayed. “I’m not a sorcerer. That was just a little hobby I dabbled in as a child.”
“‘Dabbled’?” Loki had been preparing himself to undergo the sorcerer trails! He’d been just a few weeks away!
“I barely remember it. I used to write plays or some nonsense too, didn’t I?”
“‘Nonsense’?” Thor could feel the rage, the storm, rising in him.
Loki turned to face him. And his eyes dropped, to Thor’s hand on his hammer, spiking with lightening. There was, just for a moment, the flick of a smile. “Thor.” He said his correct name, softly.
And Thor felt the storm begin to die.
“Apparently I’m supposed to have many happy childhood memories in Asgard.” His eyes went back to Thor’s, and he took one limping step toward him. “Care to show me?”
(This is as far as I’ve written, hopefully tbc soon!)
just ordered anri’s nendoroid petit off ebay for 26 dollars
this cant be real right????? like this is too good to be true???????
