Summer and Frost

Nina

When I entered the great hall, a hush fell over the Asgardian people present, and whispers of my name filled my ears. As a formality, The Warriors Three and Lady Sif were on Loki’s left at the table, but the seat at his right hand was reserved for the guest of honor, the goddess recently returned to his realm.

The noise quickly escalated once more to the usual din of voices characteristic of any feast, although some still seemed content to stare at me.

Fandral certainly noticed, as he always had. He smiled openly as I sat across from him, nodding briefly to Loki, murmuring “my king,” with as little enthusiasm as I could muster.

“You look beautiful,” he said, as if expecting some sort of response out of me. I knew what he was trying to do. He though flattery and a reminder of the way he used to speak to me when we were young would make me think he was still the man I had adored as a child.

“Where is the queen?” I asked Loki, missing the presence of the woman who had always been gracious and kind to me.

“She refuses to leave Odin’s bedside, even for a feast,” Loki replied curtly as servants rushed in to lay down several different delicacies on the long table.

I turned away from the false king to look across the table.

Fandral used to make me sick as a young woman, but I found it in my heart to smile at the now breathtakingly dashing man. He had truly grown into his title, although his beauty was perhaps too flashy for my taste. I also knew that the strongest connection he had ever had with a woman lasted usually one night, and was over as soon as he bedded whatever maid he graced with his affections.

“Hello, Nina!” he boomed in his pompously affected voice. “Tell me of your time in Midgard? And why did you depart so quickly? You didn’t even say goodbye. I was quite wounded.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, and Loki interjected, “Yes, Odin informed me that you wished to experience Midgardian desert summers? Did you find them as diverting as you hoped?”

So, that was the story. I could tell that Loki was testing me for weakness, to see how much I had missed Asgard, if at all. He needed to find a fault in me, a chink in my armor, if he were to burrow inside and exploit me.

“Yes, it’s true. While I did enjoy the strange human customs of Earth, as they call it, and the stark beauty of the desert, my home has always been here.”

I gave Loki a tight-lipped, insincere smile.

“Well,” Fandral began, taking a swig of mead between his words, “Asgard has missed you and your incomparable beauty.”

“You flatter me, Fandral,” I said, ignoring how my stomach lurched at his hungry gaze.

Hogun remained silent, but Volstagg made a quick point to ask me how Midgardian food compared to Asgard’s.

“Worlds apart, Volstagg. They are so unlike each other it is hard to make a comparison. But you must try corn dogs. I guarantee you, you will not regret it.”

Fandral continued to prod me with compliments that verged on near-vulgarity, while Volstagg merely wanted to ask me more about the food. Sif remained tight-lipped, I think largely due to her proximity with Loki. She had always possessed little tolerance for him. Our eyes met and I gave her an understanding look. She seemed surprised by this, as Loki and I had always remained attached at the hip.

Soon the feasting was over and the real festivities began. The table was pushed to the far end of the hall where those who still had not finished with food could mingle and eat. But the vast majority of the guests started to file out onto the dance floor, where music played and couples started to dance in the formal Asgardian fashion.

I found myself missing the Midgardian way of dancing. I missed the uncontrolled movement, the close proximity without self-consciousness. I stood on the sidelines of the dancing as people laughed and quickly forget the so-called guest of honor.

I was surprised to see Lady Sif approaching Loki a few feet away from me. But she was not approaching him for a dance. She spoke to him quite heatedly, although I could not hear what she was saying from all the noise in the hall and the fact that they stood a good ten feet away. Loki seemed to say something that stopped her, and I noticed the familiar look of barely concealed anger in Loki’s eyes before Lady Sif stalked away from the false king.

I slipped back between the columns at the side of the great hall that led to other parts of the palace. I longed to escape this masquerade, this fool’s parade of people who all thought I was here to show my support for Loki as the new king.

“It would be rude to leave a ball arranged in your honor,” a voice said from behind me after I turned to slip past the curtains that separated the hall from a smaller secluded hall that would lead me away from the crowd.

He held out his hand, and I didn’t dare refuse him when others looked on. I slipped my feverish hand in his icy one as he led me out into the middle of the floor. This particular dance was much like the waltz in Midgard, and I found myself hating the close proximity to my former friend.

Loki held me closer than was necessary for the dance, and whispered, his cool breath sending shivers spiking along my spine. “Asgard has missed you. I knew I made the right choice in returning you here.”

I felt fire on my tongue as I looked up into Loki’s cold emerald eyes. “Are you sure it wasn’t to keep me away from Thor? Now that he has been banished to Midgard, surely you wish to keep him away from any friendly faces.” I knew the words were foolish as soon as they left my lips, but I couldn’t help but say them.

“You always were fond of my brother,” he said, his tone accusing.

“I was fond of you once,” I murmured.

Loki’s eyebrow shot up, and he smiled, rows of white teeth shining. But the smile was cold, devoid of any joy or happiness or sincerity. “Oh, really?” he said incredulously.

“Yes, before I discovered what you have become. You have always been angry, but you were never cruel before. The Loki I knew only threatened me because he was afraid. Now, you just want others to be as miserable as you.”

I pulled myself from his grasp, stalking away from the party, nearly setting the curtains on fire with my anger as I left.