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It wasn’t until breakfast, two days after his return to Asgard, that Loki finally realised what had been nagging at the back of his mind.
To be fair, he had a lot of metaphorical plates to keep spinning – schemes in various stages of progression in Alfheim, Nidavellir and Midgard – and he had returned to Asgard solely to use his library and recover some powerful artifacts he had left concealed about the castle.
So at the end of the first day he fell into bed in a state of exhaustion and in the pitch dark, and rose only to return to his tasks. On the second day he found himself to be ravenously hungry, and so he went to the great hall.
His fellow Asgardians were glaring as he took his seat, probably because they hadn’t forgotten about the incident with the goats yet. As he ate Loki stared at the space in front of him and couldn’t shake the vague thought that something was missing.
Ah. Yes. The space in front of him – the empty seat.
Loki looked left and right down the board and frowned. Some seats away Thor was busily attacking a plate of cold meats, so Loki leaned across and shouted over the general hubbub: “BROTHER.”
“WHAT?”
“WHERE IS BALDER?”
“HE IS NOT WITH YOU?”
“CLEARLY NOT, YOU IDIOT.”
Loki saw Frigga lean over to shush Thor, throwing first one son and then the other a disapproving glance. She murmured something to Thor, and Loki observed the thunder god’s eyes light up with understanding. Before Frigga could prevent him, Thor turned back towards Loki and yelled: “HE WENT TO NORNHEIM.”
Loki’s eyes flashed red as he muttered to himself. “Oh, did he indeed?”
*~*~*
As these words were spoken, Balder was languishing in prison.
It was a very nice prison, so far as such things went – there was a large bed (upon which he reclined) and a superfluity of silken pillows, along with many attendants to fan him and offer him rare delicacies and sweetmeats upon golden platters. Yet the fact remained that the door was locked with an enchantment and (shy of taking hostages) there seemed to be no way out.
The harpist in the corner was very slightly out of tune, and it was starting to grate on Balder’s nerves, although he was much too polite to say so.
He had, of course, walked into Karnilla’s trap. He had set out knowing full well that it was a trap – Karnilla requesting him as an emissary on pretense of smoothing over a trade dispute between the two provinces was somewhat obvious. However, as he knew Karnilla’s ways, she knew his – it would have been churlish to refuse, and Balder could do nothing to disgrace his own realm or to seem to offer offense to Nornheim and its queen.
Karnilla was always a source of disquiet for him. Balder did not wish to cause anyone pain, but he could not help that he did not return her affections in the manner she so ardently wished him to. This left him in the awkward position of having to do his chivalrous best to make her feel that she was not being made sport of or scorned, while simultaneously remaining quite firm in resisting her advances.
Balder winced as it occurred to him that Karnilla had probably got wind of the wedding.
Soon, the sorceress herself appeared, resplendent in her thigh-split gown of queenly purple, abundant dark locks cascading over her shoulders and the sun glinting on her elaborate headpiece.
“I hope you are comfortable, my lord Balder,” she said sweetly, in a way that made him suspect she was very, very angry (if there was one thing he had learned it was that Karnilla could not abide being forced onto the back foot).
“Very much so – your hospitality is generous as ever, my lady. However, may I be so bold as to enquire when I will be permitted to return to Asgard?”
“You may return to your beloved city when you come to your senses!”
“I beg your pardon?” Balder enquired. This seemed to make Karnilla lose patience entirely.
“You married the TRICKSTER?” she exclaimed, beginning to pace up and down in her agitation. “You married that cringing, backbiting, sneaky, malicious little worm!” She took a deep breath and continued: “Nanna I could understand – she was sweet and placid enough to catch any man’s fancy, but LOKI?”
“It wasn’t exactly my choice. He tricked me into it.”
“But it is your choice to remain with him.”
“He...” Balder stared at his lap as he anxiously clenched his hands upon his knees. “We are trying to make it a real marriage. His faults are grievous and many, but I am... fond of him.”
Karnilla gave him a look that was half frustration and half pity. “You are fond indeed, Balder! What can you be to him but a plaything? Come now, even you are not so naive as to think that self-serving wretch is capable of love.”
“Loki is capable of many things,” Balder replied, raising his gaze as he considered the issue. “All things, perhaps, except constancy.” He folded his arms, unfolded them, and then said, with an air of finality: “The point is, I regard him as my spouse and I do my best to give him the love and esteem which that position is owed. That is all I have to say.”
The Norn Queen let out a shocky, affected laugh. “Never until this day have I thought of you as a fool, Balder–” she broke off and stared wildly about herself.
The foundations shook.
Then came the sound of voices raised alarm, screams and running footsteps. A rapid series of bangs and pops and the scent of burning permeated the room. As Karnilla turned the locked double doors began to crack and splinter as if they were made of ice rather than wood. With a groan they disintegrated into shards on the floor.
Loki stepped into view looking slightly charred around his boots.
“Karnilla!” he exclaimed in that bright, ringing tone that meant chaos was on the very brink of being unleashed. “This is a pleasure! What singularly nasty wards you have set up to welcome me!” he dusted himself off and continued, in a more businesslike tone: “now, I believe you have something of mine?”
Balder leaned to the side to peer around the edge of Karnilla’s cloak. “Hello, Loki.”
The god of mischief pulled an unconvincing expression of concern. “Have you been harmed, Balder?”
“No.”
Loki clasped a hand to his own chest. “Has your modesty been outraged?”
“No...” Balder frowned, rising to his feet. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Then perhaps there is no need for further bloodshed,” Loki beckoned him with a jerk of his thumb. “Come, let us leave this ugly, provincial little castle and return to civilization.”
Karnilla bristled. “You will leave my castle? Aye, you will leave it in a winding sheet, trickster!”
Loki chuckled with malicious enjoyment. “Oh, come now Karnilla – you’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first. You’ve been trying to inveigle your way into Balder’s affections for centuries now – to pitifully little avail.”
“Loki,” said Balder sternly. “That is not kind.” He was aware that he was now hovering indecisively between the two of them – fearing the consequences of seeming to favour either. Loki and Karnilla were both standing with one foot planted before the other (as if leaning into a gale) and magic crackled at their fingertips.
“Never would I compel Balder to marry me unknowingly!” Karnilla remonstrated. “Such low tricks are beneath true royalty. What happened, liesmith – could you not find even one desperate wretch in the nine realms who would actually consent to being shackled to you?”
Loki arched a dark brow. “Oh... you might be surprised by what Balder consents to, Karnilla.”
Balder covered his face with his hands. “Loki, please don’t–”
“No, Balder,” Loki replied in a thoughtful attitude, tapping his chin, “I believe the lady Karnilla should hear how I have ruined you for all other lovers. Perhaps she will relinquish her claim when she realises how futile it is to hope that her caresses could ever satisfy you now. Especially since, when you wish it, I can become twice the woman she is.”
Balder drew himself up in mortified annoyance. “Loki, if you do not shut your mouth right this moment I will start sleeping next to you in my armor!”
Karnilla looked utterly aghast at this exchange. “Oh, Balder...” she took three steps back and sank down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t truly allow him to... say it isn’t so.”
“Yes, Balder,” Loki examined his fingernails, looking unbearably smug. “Tell her what she wants to hear. Tell her you are as cold and untouched as the virgin snows of Jotunheim’s highest peaks and that you have never, ever begged me earnestly to put my prick in your arse.”
“LOKI.”
“... Oh sorry, would that be against your vow of truth?” Loki sniffed. “Well, I can’t be expected to take note of all your scruples – they are so very troublesome and many.”
“Loki,” said Balder in a low, furious tone, “when we get back to Asgard we are going to have a very long talk about appropriate and inappropriate topics of conversation.”
*~*~*
Karnilla let them go after that. The worst part was she actually looked disappointed with Balder, as if he had become tarnished in her eyes.
“Well then, if you will take hold of my wrist,” said Loki as they emerged from the castle’s main entrance into the sunny courtyard, “I will teleport us both–”
“No,” said Balder.
“No?” Loki raised an eyebrow.
“I plan to return on horseback.”
“Why? Balder, you have the most powerful mage in the nine realms at your disposal and you prefer a slow and tedious journey atop a mangy nag?”
“Silverhooves is not a nag!” Balder retorted. “And he is certainly not mangy. He is a prince among horses.”
“Well, I’m certainly not letting you out of my sight again in this treacherous realm.” Loki placed his hands on his hips. “Who knows who will try to despoil you of your virtue next?”
“Well then, perhaps, in return for the boon of being rid of you, Karnilla will lend you a steed.”
“Absolutely not!” Loki shook a finger at Balder as if he was a naughty child in need of chastisement. “Balder, I am not putting up with your foolish whims a second longer, I have work to do you know.”
“Well, I am going on horseback,” Balder announced, moving forward to take his waiting mount’s reins from the hands of the groom, gently patting the animal’s neck. “You may do as you please, Loki. You always do.”
*~*~*
In the end (and for exactly the reason Balder had suggested) Karnilla did lend Loki a steed.
The horse (a shaggy dun creature for whom the word ‘mangy’ would not have been an inaccurate appellation) seemed exactly as fond of Loki as Loki was of it.
It took three tries for Loki to even seat himself in the saddle, as the horse had a neat trick of swinging its hindquarters ninety degrees every time the trickster attempted to mount, pitching him off the other side.
The first stage of their journey involved Loki being returned to the ground twice more – once when the horse gave an unexpected, skipping buck, and once when it decided to stop on the near side of a box hedge it was being urged to jump and let Loki go first.
Balder (who was, naturally, cantering merrily ahead in the shaft of sunlight that seemed to follow him wherever he went, laughing at the little songbirds that wove in and out of the branches above his head to keep him company with their twitterings) brought Silverhooves up short and returned to the site of Loki’s spill. Loki was screaming at the horse, threatening to turn it into something abominable just as soon as he had worked out what was worse than being an ugly, mangy beast of burden. The horse, for its part, cropped the grass and gave a low snort of derision.
“Peace, Loki,” Balder said, dismounting gracefully to catch the errant steed by its bridle. He then bent his head to speak into the horse’s ear.
“Yes, yes, I know,” he told the animal, stroking its cobby face, “he is very difficult. You must be gentle and patient with him.”
The rest of the ride was calmer and less eventful following Balder’s intervention, but Loki was still in a foul mood, sniping at the other god every time he tried to engage him in conversation. Balder responded to this by singing softly until the birds joined in and the very trees seemed to wave to the melody.
“By the serpent’s teeth how I loathe you,” Loki told him. “You are insufferable.”
“And yet,” Balder observed drily, “here you are.”
*~*~*
As dusk drew on they halted their journey at a broken-down inn by the roadside. The landlady took one look at Loki and baulked in horror (moving as if to shut the door in his face), but then Balder stepped forward into the lamplight to charm her as he did all of creation.
“This is quite possibly the worst thing I have ever consumed,” Loki said, poking savagely at his dinner with a spoon. “And that’s including the potions I brewed from poison roots and reptilian entrails. I mean really – is this a piece of turnip or a lump of rancid fat?”
“Shh, she’ll hear you,” Balder told him, laughing despite himself as his eyes darted towards the kitchen door.
“I hope she does,” Loki insisted. “This is less a stew and more a heinous crime perpetrated against my person.”
“Here, have my beer,” Balder pushed the tankard towards him across the scrubbed oak table. “You are a little less misanthropic when you’re drunk.”
*~*~*
There seemed to be nothing else to do after dinner, so they retired to bed. Their landlady led them up creaking stairs (as both men carried their helmets under their arms to avoid the low ceilings) to a chamber that was no more calculated to cheer the spirit than their meal had been. Everything was caked in dust and festooned in cobwebs, and the trestle bed sagged forlornly in the middle.
Once they were installed, Balder politely thanked the hostess for her hospitality at such short notice and bid her a courteous goodnight. Nevertheless, she closed the door with a slam.
Noting Loki’s sour expression and folded arms, Balder crossed to the window and opened it to let out the stale air. “Oh Loki,” he gasped in tones of wonder, “come and look at the stars.”
Loki gave a long-suffering sigh. “I have seen them Balder. I spent many years studying them, plotting their positions and learning their prophetic and mythological significances.”
“But they’re so clear and beautiful tonight.” When Loki consented to come closer, Balder caught his hand, stroking Loki’s knuckles with his thumb as he gazed towards the sky, the breeze ruffling his pale hair.
As they stood together in the square of moonlight cast by the open window, Balder turned to face Loki, still clasping one of the trickster god’s hands while his other came up to tease out a lock of lank, dark hair from behind Loki’s ear.
“I feel that we are alone here,“ Balder said with a strange smile. “We are never really alone in Asgard, so it seems.”
After a pause, he leaned in and kissed Loki, who submitted to it without enthusiasm for a moment before pushing him back. “I am tired and sore and nauseated, whatever makes you think I would be in the mood for one of your mawkish seductions, Balder?”
Balder cast his glance downwards, dark lashes skimming his cherubic cheeks. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long time, Loki – I missed you, and I thought...”
Loki made a tisking sound of impatience. “I do not know why you insist on cluttering your physical desires with unneeded sentiment.”
Loki crossed to the bed and sat down (which caused the whole structure to creak alarmingly) to begin tugging off his boots. As he undressed, Loki determinedly ignored Balder’s wounded woodland animal looks and when the other god eventually joined him beneath the covers, Loki emphasized his displeasure by attempting to roll away. Unfortunately, the sagging of the mattress made it like trying to climb a hill sideways, and time and again Loki was returned to Balder’s side.
Balder laughed softly and caught him in an embrace. “Alright, Loki, you’ve made your point – I’m not trying to seduce you. Now please lie still, you’re making me seasick.”
Loki huffed, but submitted to closing his eyes. Totally against his peevish will, he was lulled into sleep by the soft, regular sounds of Balder’s breathing.
*~*~*
Near dawn Balder woke with a start.
A chair had been pulled up near the bed and Loki was sitting in it, very upright, with his wrists resting upon his thighs and fingers tented together. A candle burned on the nightstand, illuminating Loki’s naked chest but fading out along his jaw. Somehow his two green eyes were lambent.
Balder rubbed his face and gave a soft groan, struggling to raise himself on the lumpy mattress. “Loki... what are you doing?”
“Thinking,” was the other god’s clipped reply.
“Do you have to stare at me like that while you do it?” Balder squinted at him. “What are you thinking about?”
“The Lady Karnilla. You like her, don’t you?”
“I admire her strength and devotion to her people.” A look of suspicion crept into Balder’s face. “You’re not jealous, are you Loki?”
“Don’t be absurd,” Loki crossed one long leg over the other, flexing his toes. “Why should I be jealous when you are utterly incapable of deceit?”
“I have no idea, Loki,” Balder turned away onto his side and lay down again, determined to ignore whatever the other man was up to.
“Yet,” came Loki’s quiet, cutting voice, “you do like her. You admire her. This, I think, has long been the case.”
“So?” Balder sighed with a deep weariness.
“So. Would you have been happier if she’d played my trick, Balder? If it was she who had taken Nanna’s place, would you now count yourself lucky to be her little lapdog – or should I say, prince consort?”
“You’re talking about a past that never was – how can I possibly give you an answer to such nonsense?” Balder retorted, pulling the blankets to his ears. “What are you angry about anyway? All of this is your own doing. If you don’t like being stuck with me you should have let me marry my chosen fiancée.”
Loki’s voice was still quiet, but it came out in a rushed hiss: “would you have been happy then, Balder – with your sweet, insipid Nanna? With an eternity of grinning mindlessly and staring into the limpid pools of one another’s eyes?”
“I’m happy now, Loki.” Balder rolled over and fixed him with an exasperated glare. “I love you. I pine for you when you’re absent. Is that what you want to hear?”
A look of contempt settled on Loki’s face. He sat back and folded his arms across his chest , touching a fingertip to his chin. “Oh – and how privileged is Loki, then, to have fair Balder’s love! Truly, that brave, shining one’s charity knows no bounds, that he can bestow his affections upon such loathesome creatures as slugs and toads and Loki Laufeyson!”
“Loki–”
Loki rose from the chair with a scuffle and crossed to the window, giving the dusty curtain swags an angry twitch. A shaft of moonlight fell upon him, highlighting the length of his face and the paleness of his naked body. Balder stared fixedly at the backs of Loki’s knees and thought how oddly-shaped and vulnerable they looked.
“You think I should be grateful? Hm?” Loki demanded in that casual, cruel drawl. “That you love me? Your love is as exclusive as a harlot’s favours, Balder – anyone may have it for the asking. It is a tawdry, trifling thing.”
Balder sat up again, resting his back against the creaking headboard. After a long moment of contemplation he said: “there is some truth in what you say. Love and tenderness have always come as easily to me as malice and deceit do to you. In almost everyone I meet I find something worthy of admiration – it is in my heart, my whole being.” He sighed and bowed his head. “I did say almost everyone, because there was one exception. You.”
Loki raised an eyebrow as if Balder was finally beginning to interest him. “Go on.”
“When we were children, I watched and disapproved of you. Though Thor sought you out, I chose to ignore you as much as I could – I did not relish your company, but more than that... I suppose I was afraid. Not of you or your actions, but of myself – of my own emotions. When I looked upon you and saw the glint of wickedness in your eyes, when I heard the edge of mockery in your voice, I would feel a black, unfamiliar thing lying heavy upon my chest. I felt hatred, Loki. I – who was born to embody light – felt a cold, shuddering shadow pass over my soul every time I looked upon you. Sometimes I even wished to do you violence. I felt I would like to wrap my hands around your throat and shake you, if only to stop you filling Thor’s ears with lies.”
Loki gave a gleeful bark of laughter and swiftly crossed the floor to jump back into bed. “What a terrible thing to confess, Balder!”
“I know,” Balder twisted the bedclothes in his hands. “I was ashamed of it, this hate, but it was beyond my control. It was visceral.”
Loki sniggered and walked his fingers up Balder’s chest, eyes sparkling. Balder caught his wrist and tugged it, catching Loki’s chin with his free hand to force him to meet his gaze. “You see – you are the only one I’ve had to try with. The only one to make love a constant trial. I think... there is something of importance in that – perhaps love should be difficult, at least some of the time.”
Loki rolled his eyes. “I suggest you stop talking before you ruin it.”
Balder squeezed Loki’s hand and ignored him. “Were you jealous, just a little? Tell me that you were. Tell me you imagined me with Karnilla and it maddened you.”
Loki sneered at him. “I say again Balder, that you wouldn’t dare. More than that, I actually believe you are incapable of even getting hard over an illicit thought.”
Balder bit his lip. “Ah... but what if she had... tied me up, used her enchantments on me, and made it so I had no will of my own?”
Loki climbed over him, knees either side of Balder’s hips and hands clenching in the fabric either side of Balder’s head. “If she touched you. If she even laid one solitary finger upon you... my vengeance would follow her to the most forsaken corners of the furthest realms.” Loki bent down to kiss him, then murmured against his cheek: “so tell me... that she did.”
Balder’s eyes went wide. “She did no such thing!”
“You spoil all my fun.” Loki sighed and sat back, wriggling a little and making Balder gasp. “Out of interest – you once said that you had long desired me. Was that a lie?”
“Of course not!”
“Then how does Balder the Pure reconcile hate and lust, hmm?”
“I... Loki–”
Loki touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip and squeezed Balder with his thighs. “Tell. Me.”
Balder gazed up at him, “I wanted to twist your hair around my fist and stop your lying mouth with my tongue, with my–”
“Yes?” Loki prompted.
“... manhood,” Balder finished uncertainly, long eyelashes dipping.
Loki gave a considering twist of his mouth. “Terrible.”
“Prick,“ Balder emended, “with my prick.”
“Oh Balder,” said Loki with a victorious smile, “the things I’ve done to you.” He bent to kiss the other god, mouth leaving a wet trail down the glowing skin of Balder’s torso. Balder’s eager prick bobbed up to meet him as Loki lifted the heavy covers and leaned down to run the point of his tongue up the length of its underside.
“Well?” Loki glanced up, his bottom lip still brushing teasingly against Balder’s tip. “Why don’t you stop my lying mouth?”
Balder buried his hand in the fine hairs at the nape of Loki’s neck and gave a sharp tug, a wild look coming into his normally placid eyes. “Yes.”
*~*~*
“I am very sorry about the bed,” Balder said, pressing a fat purse into the glowering landlady’s hand as they stood in the courtyard. “I can’t apologise enough.”
“Just to be clear,” Loki announced in supremely self-satisfied tones, “I’m really not sorry at all.”
Balder turned his head to send his spouse a stern glare, but found his face heated too much to really give it much force.
Well, proper chastisement could wait until later, when they were warm within Asgard’s walls (and enjoying its more sturdy furnishings).