Midnight in the garden of mischief & mayhem

Chapter 19

I stood on my balcony looking over Asgard, completely lost in my thoughts. Ever since that unthinkable day, the city didn't seem to have the same luster. As if Asgard had lost its magic. It wasn't true of course, I knew that. It was me. That day had altered me forever, and since then I had never seen anything the same way. 

My hand absently went to the pendant at my throat. Feeling the familiar stone was comforting, even if the cold of it made my heart constrict. Once there had been warmth there, but it had been lifeless for so long now. 

In the distance, I saw the rainbow bridge, or what was left of it, jutting out into the void beyond Asgard's waters. It was on that bridge that a part of me had died.

I turned away, willing those thoughts out of my head, and began pulling on my battle gear. Sif was helping me train today and if I didn't hurry, I would be late.

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The training went well. It felt good to get away from my thoughts and do something so instinctual. I kept thinking of a line out of one of the books I had seen in the library on effective battle techniques: "Desperate soldiers are the best kind because they have nothing to lose, nothing to come back for."

The words repeated themselves in my head throughout the training, and forced me to focus on a question that had plagued me since I'd first read them: had I become a "desperate soldier"?

The idea disturbed me. I had never wanted to fight, but after Loki died, it was the best outlet I could find for all my destructive energy. It helped marginally clear my head when I had a sword in my hand. Because everything else carried pain at first, I threw myself head-first into training. It showed, and I quickly advanced to be one of the top warriors in Odin's army. But I couldn't help wondering if the reason I was so good on the battlefield was that I really didn't care whether or not I returned. 

I looked around me. All these walls held inside was sadness and pain. Everything, the bed, the wardrobe, even my own clothes were stinging reminders of him. 

I got up again and wandered over to the glass doors that led out to the balcony. Whenever I needed to think, I came here. I didn't know if it was the cool summer breeze or just the wonderful feeling of sitting in silence to organize my thoughts, but it always helped. 

I sat in the chaise outside, and watched the city. Right then, an idea occurred to me. Concentrating hard, just as Loki had taught me to do, I willed my thoughts to focus on one thing. When I opened my eyes I was astounded. There, sitting plainly in front of me was an Arubae flower. A choked sob escaped my throat, both in joy and in anguish. That flower held so many sweet memories, but also served as another bitter reminder of Loki's death. For the first time in a long time, however, the joy outweighed the pain. 

Hesitantly, I reached out and touched the flower, running my finger lightly along the dark petals. The familiar, melodious ringing filled my ears and I smiled genuinely for the first time in months.

I didn't realize I'd been crying until I felt the tears fall onto my collarbone, soaking the fabric of my dress.

There was a flash of warmth at my throat as my pendant flashed to life for a brief moment. I knew it had to be just my imagination, but the hallucination sent me over the edge. 

I must have cried for hours, curled into the fetal position, cradling the Arubae and crushing it in my hands. I hadn't sobbed like this for months. I had thought it was because I was learning to live with Loki's loss, but now I knew that wasn't it at all. The agony ran just beneath the surface, waiting for something, anything, to set it off. My heart was a wound, ragged and flaming at the edges, always on the verge of tearing itself back open again. 

Now I knew the truth: I would never be whole again, for love has the power to ruin.