The Trickster's Bride

Chapter Twenty One: Freyja

At last the day had come! The wedding of Rani and Loki was upon us. All of Asgard was thrilled, and none more so than I.

I had spent the morning in Rani's chambers with Sif, Frigga, and many maids. Ever since Rani's change of heart, which I sensed was thanks to Frigga, we had been very busy. We had helped to prepare the Temple, where all the gods of Aesir had wed their brides. We had supervised the decoration and entertainment for the reception. And now, we were preparing the bride.

As a member of the Aesir, marriage was a day full of excitement and tradition. We carefully followed customs that had been in place for centuries. It was a long process, yes, but everything we did held strong symbolism. Everything from the Bride's Bath, which symbolized the Bride's past being washed away, to the ancient songs we sang, was full of power.

By noon, most of our rituals had been completed. We helped Rani to cleanse herself, and we sang hymns to her while we perfumed her. Scent held a strong power. For the rest of her life, the scent of jasmine and rose would bring to mind Rani's wedding day. The scent of these particular flowers encouraged romance and desire, which Rani and Loki desperately needed. We were already worn out, as we'd been awake since before the sun. We rested briefly, eating a small luncheon, before we began to help Rani dress.

The maids brushed out Rani's wavy red hair, then combed in a serum of egg whites and the essence of lilac, a scent sure to send her husband's heart wild. Her hair now shone and glistened in the sunlight. We offered to help Rani with makeup, but she refused, save for some light powder on her face. She had never cared much for face paint, as she called it. Even without enhancement, my half-sister was lovely.

"You look so beautiful!" I sighed, for I have always been a hopeless romantic. And although Rani was to wed the moody Trickster, I still dreamed of eternal happiness for the couple.

Rani, of course, blushed. “I smell like a flowerbed,” she muttered. Sif and I laughed.

“It's not over yet,” Frigga said, coming forward. Rani groaned but didn't argue.

Frigga had made a special balm, which the maids now rubbed over ever inch of Rani's creamy skin. She frowned. She had never grown used to servants. But she allowed it, although I could see her annoyance. The balm was a sweet-smelling mixture made from the oils of catnip, hibiscus, and jasmine. These sacred herbs encouraged love, happiness, and lust. Rani commented that she would never wear perfume again, and she would probably make Loki faint because she smelled so strongly.

"Now the gown!" I cried, ignoring Rani's mutters. Sif and I, who were to be her Handmaids during the ceremony, led her to her dressing stool. Rani giggled nervously and feigned reluctance, while Frigga gaily rolled her eyes at our antics. The three of us were a force of nature, and we often made the Queen of Asgard laugh like she was a young silly maid again.

Rani, in only the skimpiest undergarments, allowed Sif and I to tie on her garter, which symbolized her maidenhood. Tonight, Loki would be the one to untie it, and make her a true woman of the flesh. It was a thin braided cord, woven of virgin wool dyed blue and silver, Rani's chosen colors. Today would be the last day those colors belonged to her. After the ceremony, she would wear green and gold from now on, the colors of her husband, until she became a mother.

Carefully, we held the white linen dress while Rani daintily stepped into it. It had been tailored to fit Rani's curves like a second skin. Rani had designed it herself, as a nod to the wedding gown styles of Midgard. The bodice was tight-fitting, though it allowed the tops of her shoulders to be exposed. From there, the sleeve tapered to just above her elbows, and the rest of the long sleeve cascaded down to her knees, with a slit to give her arms movement. The bodice hugged her curves to her waist, where a band of blue-and-silver marked the beginning of the skirt. The skirt was full and flowing, ending barely an inch off the floor. The gown was mostly white, though the edging on the shoulders, elbows, waist and hem were her traditional colors. She had opted out of a veil, instead choosing to wear a silver diadem set with sapphires. Once we had laced her up, we stepped back to admire her.