Muffins - Loki & Ylva alternate universe stories

Princess in the tower VII

Chapter 7 - Loki

Warm fingers wrap around his wrist, lifting his arm a little. The fingers press against the inside of his wrist, finding his pulse. Loki blinks against the haze of sleep. The room is dark, save for a small light next to the bed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean to wake you." The male voice is quiet in the night.

"What... Whe..." The words stay stuck in his throat. Dry. Thirsty.

"Here." The man next to his bed puts a hand behind Loki's neck to help him up a bit and his lips meet something small and firm. A straw. Water.

Loki wants to sit up more, but the man - a nurse, Loki's sleepy brain now knows - shushes him. "Careful, my lord, or we'll wake the princess up too."

My princess.

Mentioning her makes Loki aware of the warm body that is pressed against his left side, the bed barely large enough to fit two persons. His left arm automatically falls back to the place it was before, around her shoulders, his hand slipping in the warm space between Ylva's shoulder and neck again. She moves a little in her curled position, her head pushing against the side of his ribcage when she searches for the right spot. She finds it and the night nurse puts the light out.

"Sleep well, my lord."

***

Next time he wakes up, the room is bathing in light. Loki watches little specks of dust dance in the sunlight above his bed, consciousness slowly trickling in.

Awareness comes with a lot of questions.

Like why Ylva is sleeping beside him, curled up against his side with only a thin blanket that separates them. He moved his hand when he woke up, though Loki is pretty sure he was holding the princess in his sleep.
Careful not to wake her, he observes the girl. He can't really see her face, because she is snuggled up against his side, one arm slung low over his waist and one of her legs over his. She has her own blanket, pulled up high over her shoulders, mushing her hair up.

My princess.

Loki can't really explain the thought; or maybe it's more of a feeling, a deep-rooted knowledge that pops up when he looks at her. Somehow he is not surprised she is in his bed - which is not his own bed, it's not even his bed in the guestroom in the Alfheim palace -, it sort of makes sense that she is there.

That and the fact this is probably the infirmary of the palace are the only two things he can make some sense of. Everything else is one big tangled mess in his head, like someone took his memories from the past 24 hours and dumped them in the shredder. There's only bits and pieces, impossible to stitch back together.

A Dark Elf... Playing a game. with his friends... Almost falling in the pond...

He remembers taking off his jacket because it was wet and green with duckweed.

Riding his horse with Ylva in front of him, his arm loosely wound around her waist... Snake... Brann... Thor... Poison...

Did the Dark Elf poison him? Or was it a snakebite? The two things contradict each other. He doesn't remember seeing a snake, yet it also doesn't make sense that a Dark Elf would be here on Alfheim.

His mother.... Ulf... Ylva's hands on his face, her fingers running through his hair.... The sound of her laugh... His princess...

Did something happen between him and Ylva? Why would she be in bed with him?