The Trickster's Bride

Chapter Twenty: Loki

The next time I returned to the Palace was for my wedding. After the engagement party- and my tiff with Freyja and Sif- I returned to Laufeyson Manor, only slightly defeated.

There was no way to wriggle out of the marriage. If I defied the wishes of the AllFather, there would be hell to pay. And, of course, Mother would be devastated. So I swallowed my pride and accepted what I could not change.

I made sure to arrive the day before the ceremony, so I would not be subjected to the endless prodding and congratulations of the other Aesir. I sent forward excuses to my parents- the manor was unkempt, I was still overwhelmed with renovations, the linens needed cleaning. I'm sure Mother knew what I was up to, but she allowed me to have my peace.

After my parents and brother greeted me merrily when I arrived at the Palace, I disappeared to my rooms. I had not seen Rani yet, nor did I want to. I did feel bad about our last encounter, and I didn't want to refresh those memories. She was probably already quite glum, knowing she would be stuck with me for the rest of our days. I couldn't find the right words to apologize with.

I disliked staying at the Palace, even for brief periods, because no one seemed to respect others' privacy. I had barely wound down, when Thor came knocking.

"Brother," I groaned when he entered, "it's the night before my nuptials, I would really like to get some rest."

"Nonsense," Thor insisted, barging past me, "we must celebrate the end of your days as a bachelor!" In his hands he carried a large jug of ale and two drinking horns.

I sighed. "Thor, I appreciate the sentiment, but I'd just rather not."

My brother, a flash of disappointment marring his face, lowered his arms. "Brother," he said seriously, "we have grown together all these years. I know you better than you'd like to admit. I can see you are unhappy."

I exhaled again, and ran my fingers through my hair. Damn him. He always knew how to get to me. Perhaps I owed him this, for on his own bachelor night, I did not accompany him and his group of rowdy friends to celebrate. And Thor had always been the kindest of my brothers.

"Very well, Brother," I said, offering a tense smile. "Let us drink for times bygone."

With a bellowing laugh of unadulterated joy, Thor sat down before the fire, and poured us both our drinks. I sat in the chair across from him, a bit awkwardly. I had never been a big drinker, and was unsure of how to go about all this. But Thor, ever the outgoing one, drank heartily and carried the conversation to put me at ease.

My brother, though he was quite the polar opposite of me, was probably my most loyal friend.

It was not long before the ale began to go to my head, especially after we had nearly finished the jug. My inhibitions disappeared and I let my guard down. My sullenness and caution drifted away like morning fog. It wasn't a bad feeling, honestly. All of my bad decisions began to melt away. Soon, Thor and I were laughing together, remembering the mischief we caused as children.

"You were always the one to come up with these sly ideas," Thor chuckled, "and somehow talked me into going along with it."

I shrugged, enjoying the way my body tingled, "What can I say, I can be verypersuasive."

“Like the time you cut off Sif's hair, when we were children,” Thor laughed.

“Before you were betrothed,” I slurred. “She was so angry.”

“Luckily Mother managed to find her a new head of hair,” my brother howled.

We chortled and sniggered, even though nothing we said was actually funny. It felt good, to let loose like this. I felt at ease for the first time in once. We grew quiet a moment, transfixed by the fire, which had died down some.

"I cannot believe my little brother is to be wed tomorrow," Thor said, his face breaking into a great shiny smile.

I smiled reluctantly, looking down at my feet. "I can hardly believe it either."

"You will be very happy, if you let yourself," Thor said. The God of Thunder was not as eloquent as I, but he always spoke from his heart.

My eyes hardened as I met his gaze. "I do not deserve such things," I hissed. I had forgotten how alcohol often made my bitterness rise to the surface.

"I'm not trying to anger you, Loki," Thor said, his face stern and serious. "And contrary to what you believe, you do deserve it. Rani is a wonderful girl. I will be proud to call her Sister."

I was silent, staring down at the floor, my elbows resting on my knees. Fresh bouts of anxiety crested, sobering me.

Rani's face came to my mind's eye, beautiful and intimidating. Yet she was so pure, so inspiring. How could I, God of Mischief and Trickery, ever hope to make such a woman happy?

"Loki," Thor interrupted my thoughts, "please don't despair. Just give this marriage a chance. Some people just aren't given the chance to choose their fates. I was given no choice when it came to Sif. Before I met her, I had no intentions of ever marrying!"

"Oh please," I scoffed, "you two are perfect for each other."

Thor rolled his eyes. "Perhaps," he said, "it seems. But we fight, we argue. Why, she still brings up the mistakes I made before we wed! Nothing in the Nine Realms is perfect."

I looked at him. His brows were furrowed, and he was leaning forward. He so wanted me to be happy. He didn't quite understand the scars I carried. How envious of him I'd always been, how heavy the grudge was. All I ever wanted was to be good in my own right. But my games and jokes had somehow been twisted into cruelty and lies, and I'd grown up hearing "Why can't you be more like your brothers?" over and over again.

It was not Thor's fault. He could not help that he was more favored. Indeed, he resented that. He saw us as equals, and believed I could do no wrong. He had never looked down on me in disgust. When my other brothers taunted me, it was Thor who defended me. He simply could not fight his own character, he could not change the fact that he was well-loved, even though he too had been a hellion in our younger days.

"I suppose you're right," I told him, "I shouldn't be so morose. It's just so awkward! I mean, how did you and Sif manage to cross the barriers of expectation laid upon you? How do you make a true partnership out of something you didn't even have a say in?" I rarely sought the advice of my brother, but the alcohol made me more agreeable.

Thor scratched his short beard, looking up at the ceiling. "To be honest, Sif and I got along so well in the beginning because of the sexual tension. Upon first sight, we wanted one another."

I winced, fighting off ale-induced visuals I'd rather not see. "Well, Rani is beautiful, but I don't believe we are panting like animals in heat. I like to think I am a gentleman."

"Do you not find her attractive?' Thor asked incredulously. "She is a fine woman, and will bear many children-"

I hushed Thor, trying not to go down this road. Intimacy was a private affair, and it made me uncomfortable to discuss it. "Of course I am attracted to her! Just...Let's move on," I urged him. "How did you and Sif learn to get along so well?"

Thor's eyes squinted, as he thought about it. As embarrassed as I was to discuss marriage with Thor, I'd rather speak with him than anyone else. The thought of asking advice from Odin or Bragi made my head ache.

"I suppose," Thor began, still lost in thought, "we simply found our common ground. At first, our tempers clashed. We were both so used to being independent and doing as we pleased. But one day we shared childhood stories. Really, I think that was it. Something so simple. Yet we found that we had more in common than we thought."

I nodded, but was unconvinced. "Rani and I really don't have much in common," I admitted. “I tried to share my stories, and didn't even realize when Rani was laughing at my jokes." I sighed. I didn't like remembering how I'd insulted my fiancé.

Thor gave me a sympathetic smile. "You will find something," he assured me. "My only advice to you is to be patient. I know how raging your temper can be."

I gave a sardonic smile. Patience. My weakest virtue.

I downed the last of my ale, hoping to drown out my doubts and fears. Tomorrow afternoon was my wedding day. There was no turning back now. I would simply have to grit my teeth and bear it.