Fear

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Loki's eyes fluttered open. He was staring into the wooden ceiling of his little cabin.

The little bed he was laying on creaked when he rolled over. On a small chest of drawers next to the bed somebody had left a note and a small bottle with a transparent solution in it. He picked up the bottle and sat up, the bed creaking again. Turning the bottle, he noticed the solution was rather thick and flowed slowly. He suspected it was against seasickness and the note confirmed it. He snorted and got up, only then realising how much the ship swayed from one side to another. He stumbled across the little room and opened the door.

He was below the main deck in some kind of common room with doors to other cabins. In the middle, steep wooden stairs led up to the main deck and below them was a table with playing cards and a few bottles of ale on it. Loki walked up the creaking stairs, almost falling as the ship swayed.

The sun was blinding. There was not a cloud in sight but the winds were strong; Loki had to use all his strength not to get caught in the wind and fall over. He recalled the last time he was on a ship with a painful grimace- it had not been a successful mission- but managed a smile as Officer Sturlissón walked over to him.

"Seasick, are ye?" he asked and Loki shook his head. The sailor nodded slowly.

"There's food for ye in the galley," he continued and pointed.

'Great, more stairs,' thought Loki but walked over there, leaning to the right so the wind wouldn't catch him. After climbing down more steep stairs he found himself in the kitchen.

"Oi, mate, ya hungry, are ya?" asked a boy in white. Loki bit back the poisonous reply and resisted the urge to scold the boy for talking like that to a prince; instead, he nodded and sat down, waiting for the boy to serve him. After a while, the boy still had not moved. He turned to him and asked,

"Aren't you supposed to serve me?"

The boy eyed him suspiciously.

"No, why would I? I don't serve my mates, I don't even serve Sturli."

"Well, I happen to be of a higher rank than Officer Sturlissón-" started Loki, but the boy interrupted him. He blew his black hair out of his face and scratched his cheek. He couldn't be older than fifteen, thought Loki. Perhaps he was the son of the cook, sometimes they would help their parents in their work to learn better.

"What are ye, then, lord I'm-so-important?" he asked fiercely and crossed his arms. Loki stood, towering over the boy.

"What's your name?" he asked quietly. The boy stared angrily into his eyes.

"Karl."

"Karl," repeated Loki. "I am Loki of Asgard, son of Odin, and if you do not serve me with the best food you have on this goddamn ship I will personally make sure you regret it."

He said it lowly, quietly, in a way that would scare most men halfway to death, but Karl stood still, glaring at Loki.

"I will not serve some street scum!" he exclaimed and just as Loki was about to attack him, he realised the young boy would easily beat him. He hadn't practiced for months, hadn't eaten for days. He was weak.

He grunted and fetched his own food.

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"Land ahoy!"

Loki groaned and turned over in his bed. He didn't care if they saw land, he wanted to sleep...

"Land ahoy!"

Land ahoy.

He sat up and looked around for clothes, finding some on the floor. He glanced at himself in the mirror- he had shaved and regained his lost weight, cut his hair and practiced fighting with the sailors. He looked almost like no time at all had passed, but his heart ached at the thought of his lady. He walked out and up the stairs to get a glimpse of Asgard.

"We'll be there in an hour," said Sturlissón and stood behind him. "Listen... I'm sorry for treating you that way, my lord. I... I beg for your apology. Please, do not give me any consequences..."

Loki sighed. He could kill the man, torture him, have his family killed... Anything he wanted, as punishment for the man's behaviour. But the officer didn't deserve that.

"Officer," said Loki. "Do not be a coward and beg for mercy. It is alright, you will not be punished. I understand that you are not in an easy situation and have to admit that I would not have let myself on the ship. I thank you for your cooperation."

The officer hummed and left Loki alone by the railing. He breathed deeply, the fresh smell of the sea filling him up. He smiled a little as he thought he caught an imagined whiff of his lady's smell among the salty spray of the waves crashing against the ship as it advanced towards Asgard, to the harbour and the village and the castle... He could see its outline on the horizon. It was a few hours by horse between the castle and the harbour, but he wouldn't mind. He was the prince, after all; he could borrow the fastest horse they had.

Seagulls were shrieking above him and he smiled as he stepped off the ship. He still leaned a little to the left after the swaying of the ship, but soon managed to straighten his back and walk towards the nearest inn. He had a document in his hand that would assure the innkeeper that he was, indeed, the prince, and that he needed the strongest and fastest horse they had.

Half an hour later, he rode out of the town on a black mare by the name Hurricane. He incited the animal to run faster, anticipating to arrive at the castle in another hour.

As he rode, his stomach twisted itself. He worried that something had happened to his lady, that she was with Thor, that Thor had somehow hurt her...

'Thor wouldn't do that,' he told himself, not believing a word. Thor might be a nice person, but he craved justice and revenge, and Loki had stolen a lady from him just for the simple pleasure of breaking his heart... Knowing Thor, anything could have happened while Loki was gone.

He scolded himself for being so stupid, for waking up and walking out of the cottage that morning what felt like years ago, for leaving his lady alone. Why did he even leave?

He supposed he needed to talk to himself about her, about loving her. Because he did, endlessly, but it wasn't like him to simply... love. He wondered what it was about her that made her so loveable.

'Well, look at her. She's beautiful. Not like the princesses, with their corsets and make-up. She has her own kind of pretty.'

He smiled and nodded to himself.

'And then listen to her, to her voice. It's beautiful. And the way she speaks, the words she use. She's not a princess, she doesn't talk like them. She talks like the villagers, freely and easily. She's not all fancy words.

And it's the things she says, too! That she doesn't act like the other people, that she doesn't stay silent just because it is a woman's place. While anyone else would be silent and careful, she's not.

She doesn't walk like the princesses, back straight and gaze at the far wall. She walks a little as she wants.

And she smiles. She smiles whenever she wants, not when she's allowed to. She doesn't follow the rules at all. She's not a princess, she's as far from those as she could possibly be, she's happy, she's... free. She's not a princess. She's free.'

'Is that why I love her?' he asked himself. 'Because she's not a princess?'

It took a while, but then the voice in his head answered,

'Maybe it is.'