Hostage to Love

Feelings?

She washed her carefully, being careful not to look too closely at he mangled remains of Peggi's neck. 

The hand maidens brought a dress from Ari's own wardrobe, a purple shift, embroidered with periwinkles and lambstails. Carefully, they dressed Peggi, putting a gilded belt around her waist.  Now Ari sent the women away. This was her time to say goodbye.

She fetched her comb, and, sitting with Peggi's head in her lap, she combed out her hair. For the last time,  she drew the gilded deerhorn through the silvered locks. Once dark auburn, they were flecked now, the result of looking after a wayward Princess, no doubt. 

Ari smiled gently as she recalled their life. Adventures and secrets. Teaching her - unsuccessfully - to embroider.  Showing her - much more successfully - how to sew up a wound.  Practical to the last, Peggi had shown her what it was to be a real person. Not a figurehead on a ship.

Hair smoothed, dressed beautifully, Ari laid Peggi on her bed. She placed a periwinkle blue gossamer scarf over her face and shoulders, disguising the horror of the injury.

"I have to go, I have... things to do. I promise to always make you proud." She whispered, head bowed and tears dripping onto the purple silk below her. "Be with mother, watch over me."

She bent and kissed her forehead softly. "Until Valhalla" was the final whisper.

Gathering herself together, she stood tall and closed her eyes.  Taking a few deep breaths, she opened them again. There was one last change to make before she left for Asgard.  They would hate it, but she really didn't care.

Arriving back in the Bifrost, Heimdal greeted her softly.

"Welcome back to Asgard Princess. I am sorry for your loss." He bowed his head, and she nodded.

"Thank you, Heimdal. I would ask how you knew, but I think it's your job to know everything, is it not?" She tried to be gracious. This was not his fault.

"It is.  I have informed the All Father of the circumstances. He has sent an escort to bring you to your rooms." He indicated the bridge to the right of her.  For a second, she hoped to see Loki standing there, actually taking care of her. She had to steele herself when all she saw was Fandral and Sif.

Walking over to them, Fandral bowed, and Sif gave a small bobbed curtsey

"Our condolences, Ari." Sif reached out and hugged her. "I can't imagine how you're feeling, but if there is anything we can do?" She released her, and they moved towards a covered carriage.

"Thank you." Ari was once again overcome, and tears dripped.  "Forgive me. This is not what is expected of me." She climbed into the carriage, Sif beside her, Fandral opposite.

"Ari... " Sif paused, and Ari nodded, allowing her the familiarity. "Ari... even Loki will understand if you want to postpone the wedding. Under the circumstances... your mourning."

Ari looked up at her and smiled weakly. "I doubt ANYTHING will pause this wedding. Least of all my state of mind." She shook her head. "No, the wedding will take place as planned." Her voice had a resigned quality to it that made her companions sad.  The fire in her belly had gone out, it seemed.

Fandral spoke now as they plodded through the huge gates and into the main courtyard.

"My Lady, it is not our custom to wear black for mourning. Please forgive any ignorance you may encounter. It will be purely lack of knowledge, not spite."

"Thank you for your kind words, Fandral." Was all she said. She was tired, emotional, and just wanted to be alone.

The carriage drew to a halt.  Servants appeared and opened the door, letting in the sunshine. For a moment, she blinked then, feeling Sif pat her shoulder. She left the safety of the little vehicle.

Looking out onto the courtyard, she felt like screaming. No one was in black, no one was crying, no one even cared that the next best thing to a mother had been killed.  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Instantly aware she was just next to the stables, she coughed and spluttered, making Fandral and Sif laugh.

"Seems some things never change, no matter where you are, eh?" Fandral commented as he walked ahead of her.

Juat, as they were crossing the final few yards, there was a commotion to their left, and she turned to see Loki striding towards her. His face was impassively pale. 

She mentally prepared herself. 

"You're back.  Where's your servant, and why are you wearing that horrendous drab sack? It's hardly what one would wear to greet one's husband now.  I need you to be the most stunning woman in the realm at all times.

Ari's face crumpled. "Peggi is dead.  She was killed, saving me from a wolf." As small sob escaped her, and she covered her mouth with her hand, tears streaming.

"Pull yourself together you mewling quim." He snarled "do not shame me by crying in public. She was just a servant, nothing more." He looked her up and down. "You better get those feelings under control, Ariadne. You're a Princess of Vanaheim, not some soft Midgardian."

How could he be so cruel? Surely he couldn't expect her not to FEEL? Something snapped in the face of such unrelenting cruelty.

"PRINCE Loki," she emphasised his title, regaining her composure. "Despite your wish for me to adopt your customs, there are some I refuse to leave behind. This..." she indicated her dress, "is one of them.  Fear not, I shall dress appropriately for our wedding but, until that day, allow me the courtesy of mourning my loss in my own way."

She flounced past him. "Oh, and for the avoidance of doubt? I shall not appear in public until our wedding day.  Do not make me say this again. Business is business."

She strode away to her rooms, her face almost purple with the effort not to cry.  She would not allow him to "play" with her. She would be cool, calm, and collected.

Loki stood and watched her go, an apparition in black silk, a Queen's dignity radiating. He had, in truth, nothing but admiration for her. She had conducted herself with astonishing composure.  His disgusting lack of compassion his usual self preservation tactic to defend against the overwhelming jealousy he felt. Against a dead woman whom she obviously felt more for than him. It struck him he may have gone too far.

Bit how could he solve this problem? How could he at least make her see that he wanted this to be more than business?

If he had to marry her, his father had repeated THAT to him at every given opportunity, he wanted to at least have an ally. But how could he make an ally of such an infuriatingly annoying woman. A beautiful woman he couldn't stop thinking about.

Ari reached her chambers, and her hand maidens removed her outer robes, handed her a black silk wrap, and her boots were changed to silken slippers.

Sitting by the window, she sipped the offered wine and looked out. She could see Loki prowling about the yard, a word here and there. Once, he glanced up, and she held his gaze. For a second, she thought he would raise his hand in acknowledgement, but no. He turned away with a blank stare. 

This was her life now. And she didn't even have her wolf.  She felt truly abandoned.