Emprise [Fólkvangr End, Book 2][Loki Fanfiction]

Chapter Seventeen - Samúð

Author's Note: Please find it in your hearts to forgive me for the painful wait. It really sucks. I know how badly it sucks. It always kills me when I'm reading a story that takes forever to update. Needless to say I have been super busy. It's been absolute madness in my life lately, just a lot of responsibilities and work and plans and nonsense. I've also been in a bit of a writing funk, so writing in the last few weeks, when I had five minute incriments to write in, has been a challenge and I've been trying to worm through some block. This chapter in particular has been a bit hard, especially considering this is the jumping off point. As a sort of warning, all bets are off after this chapter. I think I've warned before that this book is bound to be darker than its predecessor, and that's the nature of the beast. Things are changing, they are. Well, apologies again for the wait, I will do better next time, especially since I am excited for the next chapter! Okay, enough with the boring and cryptic author's note!

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Chapter Seventeen - Samúð, or Sympathy

Another few weeks have gone by, and there has been no word from Midgard, though truthfully I would assume it’s because they have yet to figure out a means of communicating across the realms. I’m sure if there was a way I would have already gotten an earful from Nick Fury and perhaps even a personal visit. 

Odin has not said a word to me since Amora dumped us on the front steps, only sending word via Thor that we are not to leave the palace. And by “we” he really just means me. So, Frey and I are confined to the palace because Frey cannot go anywhere without me, and I cannot leave the palace, so that just leaves the two of us to grow eternally bored together. There are only so many histories of Asgard I can bear to read, only so many stories for Frey and I to share, and only so many meals in a day. Frey has taken to carving, when he can get his hands on a knife and leftover pieces of wood from the fires. A certain coldness has settled again upon Asgard, though I do not think it is due to the changing of the seasons. 

“Go fish,” I say with a yawn.

“I forget, what do I do now?” Api asks, looking down at his makeshift cards. I groan and before I can taunt Api for literally forgetting a game children of Midgard can remember, Frey helps him out. Frey and I have sort of dragged Api, the cook’s assistant, into our games, finding often that we need at least a third player. We drag Jane in when we can, but more often than not she is holed up, working out the physics and mechanics of Asgardian science and magic. Science and magic, I have found, are very often the same thing on Asgard, something I am sure Jane is discovering on her own time. 

“Frey,” I say slowly, peering at him over the top of my cards. His eyes meet mine and he grins at me. “Do you have any jacks?”

“You already took all my jacks, princess,” Frey says with a laugh.

“Ah, did I? Then you have no jacks to give?”

“Afraid not.”

“No jacks, mum!” Api snorts and I look at him but purse my lips and think better of spewing the poor, simple boy with insults. 

“Alrighty then. What of queens, do you have any of those?”

“I do possess a queen!” Frey says, more than happy to hand over his Queen of Hearts. I glance down at the card and then pile it to the side. I look down at my hand and then to Frey’s own pile, and the Api’s. I am losing. Badly, this time. I fold my hand and place it on the table.

“Let’s…do something else then, shall we?” I offer with a smile.

Frey grins, “Always a sore loser, Princess.”