Perses [Loki]

Eight

As it turned out, the threats on Loki's life were in fact serious. Serious enough that his father has decided that he is not even allowed off of the palace grounds.

Loki argued the point that it did not matter whether he lived or died because Thor would be king. Odin reminded him that he had not yet chosen a son to rule. Loki told me later that it surely felt like he had. I could tell by his downturned lips that the confession weighed on him.

I do not speak now as we walk beside one another, his hands buried in his pockets and mine clutching an array of different flowers and grasses. Loki says some of them are weeds, but I do not care. They are still pretty. I suppose if Hero was here, he'd say they reminded him of me. Pretty. He never outright said I was a nuisance in the same way weeds are, but I am a firm believer that things do not have to be said to be heard.

I pause as we pass another manicured patch of blossoms. Lilies, this time, in an unnatural blue color. I bend down to pluck a particularly wilted one.

"I can restore it with my magic, if you wish." Loki offers. His voice sounds different than normal. Less confident, and yet more powerful.

I frown and twist the stem. "Could you preserve it just like it is?" I ask, my eyes tracing the petals. I rise with my gaze still trained on the dying flower and turn. When I look up, Loki is already there.

He reaches forward and presses a single fingertip to one of the velvety petals. It shimmers with the faintest light before he moves his finger to my other hand, where a bundle of flowers in a similarly sad state sits. I smile softly as I add the blue lily to my bouquet of dying flora.

Anyone else might have asked me why I chose the ugly ones. Loki does not, though. I fear that despite my inability to put the feeling into words, he understands my choices because he has, like me, been in the position of these pitiful flowers. Overlooked, unfavored.

"How long will they keep?" I ask, turning the bundle over so that I can get a good look at all of the blooms. They don't match, and the likes of them are not cohesive, but I am still pleased with myself.

"Forever, if you care for them." He responds. I glance sidelong at him. I wonder if he thinks that I will last forever. I've never considered the possibility.

"And what will happen if I am not here forever to tend to them?" I ask. I bring the bundle to my nose. The aroma is sweet and reminiscent of eternal spring.

Loki's hair falls gently over his shoulders as he turns to face me. "Then I will tend to them."

"And after that?" I ask.

"They will join us wherever it is we go." He responds confidently. Satisfied with his answer, I begin to walk again.

The air is sultry and the sun hangs high in the sky. It is noon, and I've little to do besides attend the occasional lesson. Loki has nothing to do either, which is how we ended up in the Queen's garden. Bringer of life, Loki calls her. I wonder how she ended up with a man like Odin.  I ask Loki this, and it takes him a few silent seconds to respond.