Author's note: As promised, part two. Sorry it's late!

Chapter 9: Svala

As usual, Loki wasn't thrilled to be at training.

It wasn't all bad. After all these years, he had got used to Frømund's abuse to the point where it barely registered and he had more or less completely caught up with the others in terms of strength – as children, being the youngest had put him at quite a disadvantage, but now that they were adolescents, the age gap had nearly closed. Still, he didn't really feel the passion for it like the others seemed to and could think of many places he'd rather be.

"Have you been doing the exercises I showed you?" Hogun had approached him.

"Yes, thank you. I suppose we'll see today if they worked," he replied. They had been doing sword work recently, which he wasn't very keen on. The blades were so cumbersome. Hogun, though he now preferred his mace, had been trained almost exclusively with a sword since he was a child and had suggested some exercises to help him. He didn't like having to do extra training outside what he already had to endure, but he refused to fall behind.

"He's agreed!"

Thor's gleeful voice filled the air as he rushed in, late, and nearly barrelled straight into his friends.

"He did? Yes! When? Was he drunk?" Fandral was just as excited as Thor, and Loki realised what they were talking about. Volstagg's tavern! He moved a little closer to be part of the conversation.

"No," Thor said. "I ran into him in the corridor. That's why I'm late. He finally agreed! We go tomorrow night."

"Yes!"

Thor and Fandral celebrated like they were getting married and Sif cheered. He felt himself getting excited too. He was sick of always being stuck in the palace. It would be a relief to get out and experience something different.

"There are conditions, though," Thor continued, and Loki felt apprehension tug at his chest. "We cannot tell a soul or he'll get in trouble, he's limiting us to two ales each, Hogun has to come because he's the most responsible, and we have to promise not to start a fight. Oh, and Loki can't come."

His heart dropped. "What! Why?" he cried before he could stop himself.

Thor pressed a heavy hand on his shoulder and he resisted the urge to shrug it off. "Because you are too young, brother. He said you could come next year."

"Next year?" He was baffled. Why? He did everything his brother could do. What difference would a year make? It didn't make sense to him at all. Why would Volstagg decide he couldn't come based on something so trivial as one year?

"Cheer up," Fandral said, copying Thor's gesture and putting a hand on his other shoulder. "We'll probably all make fools of ourselves anyway."

"We're almost the same age," Loki argued, but the others ignored him, already chattering excitedly about all the fun they would have without him. He felt a familiar anger flare up in his belly and suddenly he understood. It wasn't Volstagg's 'condition'. Thor hadn't wanted him there and didn't have the guts to just say it. Fine then.

Frømund turned up soon after this exchange and Loki had to suppress his feelings and focus. Once the session was over he left as quickly as possible. He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him upset.

He had training the next day and similarly tried to give nothing away. The others wouldn't talk about anything but their trip to the tavern, as if taverns were suddenly the most exciting thing in the nine realms. He left at the first opportunity and made a stop in the kitchens before returning to his rooms. If he couldn't go to the tavern, he'd make his own. He stole the smallest barrel of ale he could find. It wasn't easy – even the smallest one wasn't exactly inconspicuous – but with a bit of magic and a different route than he usually took, he managed to get the barrel to his rooms without anyone seeing it.

He ate later than usual that night, hoping that he could avoid seeing Thor and friends in the hall. Thankfully, they had already left when he got there. He ate alone, his mood not really improving, until his mother found him. She sat down opposite him, smiling her lovely smile.

"Why are you alone, my son?" She asked. "Why didn't you come down earlier when your friends were here?"

"They are not my friends. They are Thor's friends."

She frowned. "Are you upset that you couldn't go with them?"

Loki spluttered. "What? How do you know about–" He cut himself off, realising that he might be confirming a secret she had only guessed.

She only laughed, though, the sound like ice tinkling in a glass. "The tavern? Volstagg spoke to me about it. He didn't want to take them without permission," she said.

He frowned, confused. Why had they acted as if they were doing something rebellious, then? Unless they didn't know. Mother's involvement would explain Volstagg's conditions, too. It had been her rule that they couldn't have more than two drinks and that Hogun the responsible had to go with them. Perhaps even his exclusion was –

"Then why couldn't I go?" he asked, not sure whether he wanted to know the answer.

"You are still a little young, darling," his mother said, putting a warm hand on his arm.

He pulled his arm away, offended. "A little young? Thor and I are essentially the same age."

"You are not, Loki," she sighed. "We push you two together too much. You've started a lot of things early because of Thor. I thought this might be something you could discover in your own time."

He stared at her, incredulous. "If it's in my own time, then surely I get to decide if I'm old enough or not," he said, standing up. He hadn't finished his food, but he wasn't very hungry any more.

"Loki," his mother started, but as he walked away, she clearly decided it wasn't worth an argument and let him go.

He went straight to his room, sealed the door with magic and cracked open his stolen barrel. If Thor was going to drink then so would he.

He wasn't very proud of how the evening went. He got quite drunk, went for a long walk in the gardens, briefly fell asleep under a tree, went back to his rooms, cried a bit and went to bed. Thankfully, no one was there to see it, and the next day he felt fine. It wasn't the first time he'd been drunk. He and Thor had stolen a barrel like this together a few times, and he had done it a few additional times by himself, but he had never been drunk at the same time as very upset. It wasn't very nice.

He didn't have training or Swanhild today, so he had a slow morning. He didn't really want to see anyone, which was fine, since he had no particular reason to. He read a bit, did some exercises, and had food brought to him instead of going to the hall. It was relaxing, actually, to spend some time alone. He was considering whether to reopen the ale when there was a knock on his door.

He thought. Had he sent for anything? Was he expected anywhere? He hadn't managed to think of anyone who might be knocking when whoever it was knocked again. He suddenly thought that it might be Thor and nearly didn't answer it, but he would have recognised Thor's heavy knock anywhere, and this wasn't it. Eventually he dragged himself over to see who it was. He was surprised.

"Svala?"

Standing on the threshold of his rooms was none other than Fandral's sister. She had one hand on the doorframe and was leaning lazily onto it, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Hello, Loki," she said. "It has been a while, hasn't it? Are you going to let me in?"

For a moment he didn't move, still trying to process that she was there, then he glanced back at the room to buy himself time to think, pretending to check that it was all in order. When he turned back to look at her, he planned to tell her to go away, that he wasn't in the mood for company, but something about the way the corners of her lips quirked upwards changed his mind.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside.

She strode in without hesitation and planted herself in a comfortable armchair.

He followed her, but stayed standing.

"What brings you here so unexpectedly?" he asked, trying not to let her impertinence annoy him. She had already picked up one of his books and started examining it while lounging in a very casual posture in the chair.

"Our older brothers have been out drinking," she said, her eyes still fixed on the now open book. "When I asked if I could come next time, Fandral said no, but he also told me you weren't allowed to go either."

She glanced at him, seemingly to gauge how he felt about it, before returning to the book.

Reminded of his exclusion, he started to feel heavy and decided to sit down after all, making his way to a chaise longue near where Svala was sitting. "That's right," he said.

"Does that annoy you as much as it annoys me?" Svala had dropped the book now and examined him instead.

"Probably."

Her gaze was unpleasantly penetrating, so he examined her back. Long blonde hair, the same colour as her brother's, was partially tied up in an intricate braid. What was left unbraided flowed over her shoulders in gentle waves. This gentleness was a sharp contrast to her piercing brown eyes – or were they hazel? – that seemed to cut right through him. She wasn't lounging any more. She had turned her body towards him, leaning heavily on the arm of the chair. He tried not to notice the way her posture pushed her breasts together.

"Will you go out with me tonight? We can sneak away once it gets dark. No one will know."

Yes, was his immediate thought. Yes I absolutely will. Before answering, though, he watched her for signs of deceit. They were more than acquaintances but less than friends, and it seemed odd that she would approach him out of the blue like this. How long had it been since they had seen each other last? Six months? He found nothing but mischief and eagerness in her face, and that unidentifiable something that had stopped him turning her away at the door.

"I will," he said.

Svala leapt to her feet and rushed to sit with him on the chaise. "Excellent!" she said, a hand on his arm. "The sun doesn't set for a few hours yet. What do you want to do until then?"

"I have a barrel of ale."

"Perfect!"

Thanks to the stolen ale, Loki and Svala were already a little tipsy before they even left the palace. They had gone to the gardens as if to take a stroll and climbed over the wall at the bottom. Once they were clear of the palace, Svala took his hand and hurried through the streets to a tavern she'd apparently selected beforehand. Inside was comfortable and traditional, if a little worn out, and full of people.

"Two of Hagnviðr's please," Svala said when they reached the bar, and when two foaming tankards were put down on the bar in front of her, she whispered to Loki "you did bring money, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," he whispered back, handing over the gold for their drinks. "And what about you? Did you just assume you would be drinking for free?"

"Well you are a prince," she said, taking her drink and wandering off to find a table.

He didn't mind paying – she did make a good point, after all – but it did suddenly occur to him that she might have sought him out only because she knew he wouldn't run out of gold. He settled next to Svala a feeling suspicious of her motives once again, but after a bit more to drink and a bit more time with her, his suspicions faded away.

It was actually good fun. The two of them sat close together, watching the crowd. Svala made fun of the couple that stood at the bar, too awkward with each other to talk. Loki pointed out the man with the large belly who was trapped between his chair and a table at the back of the room. Svala noticed a woman spilling wine down the back of another woman's dress and walking away as if nothing had happened. Loki saw a man so drunk that every time he tried to take a swig, he spilled mead onto his chest instead. All the while, they grew drunker and sat closer until Svala was nearly on his lap.

"You're drunk, Svala," he slurred, trying to get her to sit up. He felt people watching them and was starting to feel self-conscious through the alcoholic haze.

"Don't tell me what I am," she replied, squirming so that he couldn't get a grip on her arms and giggling when he slipped and ended up hugging her instead.

"Ok, I give up," he mumbled. He found he couldn't really sit up properly either and he quite enjoyed having her so close. He felt an unfamiliar warmth slowly spreading from his chest. It was nice.

"No," Svala protested, pushing him and straightening herself so that their noses were almost touching. "I want to do this."

And then she was kissing him. Kissing him! Her lips were clumsy and tasted of mead, but he doubted he was much better. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, eliciting a squeak of surprise. He felt her hands on his chest, grasping the fabric of his shirt.

The kissing went on for some time. He wasn't sure how long, exactly, but by the time they broke apart, the tavern looked emptier. Svala swung her legs over his and sat back, using him as a leg rest. Disrespectful, but he was too blissful to care. She picked up her mead and took a deep swig. She kept her eyes on him, dark and hungry. He wasn't really sure how any of this had happened, but he liked it.

They stayed until the tavern closed, still drinking and kissing all the while. When they stumbled onto the street, she clung to him to avoid falling over and they nearly both toppled into a canal. Leaning against the stone balustrade of a bridge, they spent some more time kissing. He didn't know what time it was when they finally decided they had to go home.

"I'll walk you home," Loki said, fighting a yawn.

"Maybe you need walking home," Svala countered.

"No, I'm bigger than you. I can walk further," he wasn't sure of that logic even as he was saying it, but Svala didn't argue again. They staggered off in the direction of her house.

When they were only a few streets away, Svala pushed him into an alley.

"Hey!"

"Shh!" she peered back out onto the street. "That's my brother. He can't see us. You go home, I'll go the rest of the way myself."

He processed enough of what she said to feel hurt. "Why can't your brother see us? Are you embarrassed of me?"

Svala gave him a gentle shove. "No. He'll be angry and I like your face how it is."

He preened a little at the compliment and kissed her goodbye. She darted off out of the alley. He had to have a sit down before he could go anywhere – not out of drunkenness, though he was still quite drunk, but out of sheer joy. He touched his fingertips to his lips and remembered the feel of her. He felt an ache somewhere deep inside that he didn't recognise.

Eventually he realised if he didn't move he would fall asleep in that alley, and that would be quite difficult to explain to his parents. With immense effort, he got to his feet and walked back through the streets towards the palace.

The next day when he woke up he didn't immediately recall the night's events. He lay in bed, feeling groggy and rubbing his eyes, when it all flooded back. That warmth came back to his chest and he felt instantly awake. Svala.

He got out of bed easily, his grogginess gone, and prepared for the day. He had a magic lesson with his mother this morning, and would go to training after that. Training. He found that he no longer dreaded facing Thor and his friends. They could exclude him all they liked – he had definitely had a better night than they had.

His lesson in the morning went exceptionally well. It seemed happiness went well with magic, and they were on such a roll that the lesson ran over by fifteen minutes. His mother wrote him a note to give to Frømund and he left for the training grounds.

When he arrived, Thor was looking at him like a kicked puppy. So now he had the decency to feel guilty. Too bad Loki didn't care. The others all seemed very tired and performed quite poorly in their drills today. Loki, on the other hand, was doing brilliantly. He hoped they noticed and that it annoyed them, though it was probably unlikely they were paying any attention to him. He found, again, that he didn't care. He should really try being happy more often.

Swanhild was next, and their walk to her library was the first time Loki and Thor had been alone together for days.

"You seem cheerful today, brother," Thor said. "I was worried that you were upset with me."

"I was," Loki admitted, "but I don't really care any more."

They walked for a while longer in silence. Loki could tell Thor was uncomfortable, but didn't feel inclined to help him. When they were about halfway there, Thor spoke again.

"It was disappointing," he said. "The trip to Volstagg's tavern, I mean."

"Was it?" He pretended he didn't already know that the whole thing had been set up by their mother. He wanted to see if Thor would tell him.

"Yes. The tavern was near empty and none of us were drunk. Quite a waste of time, really. You didn't miss anything," Thor said. He looked like he wanted to say something else, too, but didn't quite know how. Loki decided to prod him.

"You look like you've trodden in a bilgesnipe's droppings and are afraid to tell mother your boots are ruined." Thor looked at him in bafflement. He clarified: "There's something else you want to say. Go on – I won't be offended, whatever it is."

Thor's kicked puppy look was back. "We went to another tavern yesterday. I wanted to invite you, but I– I didn't see you all day."

A bad lie. If Thor had wanted to invite him he could have knocked on his door or sent a raven. It wasn't as if one had to wait to accidentally bump into their own brother in order to speak to him. By the look on Thor's face, he knew his words hadn't really had their desired effect.

"I'm sorry, Loki," he said. "I should have told you. I knew you would find out sooner or later, so I didn't want to keep it secret any longer."

He should have suspected, really. It explained all their grogginess and poor performance in training, and if he had snuck out last night it was perfectly possible Thor could as well, especially given the disappointing experience with Volstagg.

"Did you have a good day yesterday?" Thor asked him, clearly hoping that Loki's answer would make him feel less guilty.

He considered telling Thor about Svala. It would be satisfying for his brother to know he'd had an excellent time without him and that his exclusion had made it possible. In the end, though, he decided against it. Thor would probably blab to Fandral, and Svala had made it clear she didn't want him to know yet. Besides, he didn't know where any of this was going and for now, at least, it was enjoyable to keep it to himself. His secret. Well, his and Svala's.

"It was fine," he said. "Nothing special, but at least I'm well rested. You look like trolls have been chasing you through the forest for a week."

"Watch it," Thor replied, laughing. "Or I'll set my trolls on you next."

Loki allowed himself a chuckle. He wasn't ready to tell Thor he was forgiven – mostly because he wanted him to stew in his guilt for a bit longer, and only partly because he was still a touch hurt – but it was difficult to keep up a cold demeanour when he was still in such a good mood.

Thor grinned, accepting the chuckle as a return to good humour. "Will you eat with us tonight?"

"Why not?"

During the meal, Loki didn't bother trying to listen to his brother's conversation. After his lesson with Swanhild, Loki had gone to his room and sent Svala a raven asking to see her again tonight. After what felt like the most anxious half an hour of his life, he got her reply. Yes. It was the only thing on his mind. He had a faint worry that she had woken up and regretted what they'd done together, and was only meeting him to let him down in person. He told himself that she wouldn't do that – Svala wasn't that concerned about other people's feelings and would have just said no in the note – but the worry persisted. He needed to see her.

He suddenly realised that Thor had asked him a question. "Sorry?" He hadn't really been listening, but dimly he realised that Thor was asking if he wanted to go somewhere with them. "Oh, no. I have plans."

Thor frowned at him. "What plans?"

"Personal plans," he sighed.

Thor had already opened his mouth to protest when Fandral interrupted. "Well, suit yourself."

Loki smirked as the others went back to their conversation. Fandral was clearly keen to keep him out whatever they were doing. He wondered if he'd be so keen if he knew what Loki had been doing with his sister.

Svala knocked on his door exactly as she had before. This time, though, he didn't hesitate before opening it. He saw her leaning on the doorframe again, but this time she had a definite glint in her eye.

"That was fast," she said. "Were you just waiting by the door for me to arrive?"

"No," he said, perhaps a shade too quickly.

She smirked and responded by stretching up and kissing him before brushing past into the room. He was taken aback by her boldness and quickly glanced up and down the corridor to check no one had seen. He closed the door and turned around. Svala had already sat down on the chaise and was motioning for him to join her.

"I had a really good time yesterday," Svala said.

As he sat beside her, he felt the heat of her proximity and his heart sped up. "So did I."

"Do you want to go out tonight?"

"Absolutely."

This time they only stayed in the tavern for a few drinks. As before, they entertained each other by poking fun at the other customers, but it wasn't the same. Loki found it difficult to hear what Svala was saying when her face was so close to his, and whenever he was looking out at the crowd he felt her hand on his thigh, drawing his attention back to her. It was clear to both of them that they weren't really interested in being there.

When they left, the alcohol provided a warm cotton-wool blanket instead of nearly incapacitating them like the night before. They wandered through the streets arm in arm, admiring the moonlight on the canals, the warm light the floating lamps cast on the buildings and the sparkling multitude of the cosmos above them. Normally, this level of clichéd romance would have made Loki retch, but it turned out the experience was a little different when it was happening to you. Besides, they might have been doing the whole moonlit stroll thing, but they were still two snarky teenagers and found plenty to laugh at along the way.

As the night progressed, they moved further and further from the city centre. Soon they were approaching fields and the crowds from earlier in the evening had dwindled to almost nothing. Apart from the odd farmer stumbling home from a night of heavy drinking, they were alone.

"Svala," Loki stopped them after they'd been walking through farmland for about twenty minutes. "Would you like to turn back? There's nothing in this direction."

"Only more fields, right?" her eyes glittered in the low light.

"Yes. Aren't you feeling cold?" He eyed her gold dress. It wasn't revealing at all, but she had bare shoulders and the sun had set a while ago. "I don't have anything to lend you. This is all kind of attached."

She huddled in close to him. "I don't need a coat. I have you."

Again, his heart raced. She must be able to feel it, close as she was.

She pushed him and he crashed into wheat.

"Hey!"

"Shh!" she hurried over and waded into the wheat with him, offering him a hand to help him up. "The farmer won't like us ruining his crop."

"Can you stop pushing me into things and expecting me to be quiet? That's two nights in a row now," he said, dusting himself off. She had already disappeared into the field and he followed her with a sigh.

It was difficult to keep up with her, and it was only because she left a trail of crushed wheat that he didn't lose her completely. Eventually he walked into what seemed like a clearing before he realised it was just a circle that Svala had flattened by rolling over the crops. She was sat in the middle, gazing up at him with that audacious smile of hers.

"Sit with me," she said. He complied – but sat opposite her rather than next to her, and left a gap in between large enough for another person to sit there. He had been forced to chase her though the field. Now she would have to chase him.

She understood his game immediately, a smirk twisting her features. Wordlessly, she stretched out her legs and began hitching up her skirt, slowly revealing her smooth skin, inch by inch. His breath caught as it passed her knees. She kept lifting until her thighs were nearly fully exposed and stopped, hands still on the fabric. She watched him carefully. He didn't move, though he was breathing hard and he was sure he was probably shaking.

"Not enough?" her lips twitched. "How about this?"

She let go of her skirt and her hands moved to the straps at her shoulders. She was so slow that it was painful as she pushed one strap and then the other out of the way. Now only her own arms, crossed over her chest, held the dress in place. The moment seemed to last forever. Then she let the dress drop and her naked breasts were exposed to the stars.

Suddenly the game they'd been playing didn't seem very important. He closed the distance between them so fast that Svala let out a yelp of surprise before being silenced by his lips. He pressed himself close to her and let a hand sweep from her waist up to one of the uncovered breasts. He thought he would explode from the sudden arousal that crashed through him. Her hands were on him too, trying to unfasten the clothes he wore.

He wished he had gone with a simple shirt like the day before instead of the complicated leather coat-thing, but he hadn't wanted to be cold. It seemed incredibly foolish now. He let go of her to unclasp the garments himself and Svala's hands rushed in to touch his bare skin. She pushed the clothes away and planted her hands firmly on his chest. He thought for a horrified moment that she was pushing him away, but it turned out to be quite the opposite. She shoved him onto his back and pressed herself on top of him, her lips finding his again and her hands burying in his hair. He felt her breasts against his chest.

He didn't know how long they carried on like this. She made no move to loosen his now uncomfortably tight trousers, and he didn't try to push her in case it scared her away. He kept his hands to the areas she had exposed to him, figuring that they were probably a safe bet. He desperately wanted to pin her down and do all the things his body was telling him to do, and there was a decent chance she'd let him, if tonight's developments were anything to go by. It was all progressing so quickly. They'd only kissed for the first time yesterday. Didn't these things usually take months? The possibility of rejection loomed heavily in his mind, and if she thought he was too pushy, it might never happen. He needed to go at her pace. He wasn't going to mess this up.

Eventually, Svala decided that she was actually cold, pulling away and leaving him gasping for her. She sat up, fixing her dress. She looked down at him with the same sparkling eyes that she always seemed to have – like she had stolen something from him and he'd never find out what.

"Put your shirt back on. You'll look ridiculous walking me home like that."

The walk back was long. Long. He was still burning for her most of the way back into town, and even after the evidence had gone, he still felt frustrated. She teased him all the way back, of course, playing her usual games. If she felt the same as him, she was hiding it very well.

"Do you want to meet up tomorrow?" she said when they were nearly at her house.

"Of course," he replied.

She tugged on his arm to stop him walking. They stared at each other for a moment, taking in each other's features as if to store something away for their hours apart. She stretched up to plant a lingering kiss on his lips. This was different from their previous kisses. This one wasn't clumsy or hurried. This kiss was deliberate, deep, and laden with promises. The burning returned.

She broke away, her eyes amorous, and disappeared down the street.

He practically ran back to the palace. As soon as he was alone, he relieved his tension, shuddering to the floor. The next night couldn't come soon enough.

The next few days were quite similar, following the pattern they had established. He went to his classes, absolutely luminous with bliss. His excellent mood didn't go unnoticed by his tutors, largely since he was suddenly better at everything. His mother was the only one who tried to find out the cause, but he evaded her questions and she didn't push him. Thor and company seemed increasingly groggy and irritable, but he didn't know whether it was only in comparison to his own unusually high spirits that they seemed off. They were probably just tired from their own moonlit adventures. He wasn't really interested. In the evening, Svala would appear at his door and they would go out together, sometimes drinking, sometimes not, and always ending up in each other's arms. Each night, Svala was a little more forward, deepening their kisses and caresses. They grew increasingly heated, increasingly intimate. He could barely sleep for thinking of her when he went home afterwards, feeling simultaneously hot and cold.

It was on the sixth day that things changed.

Svala knocked on his door as usual and they went out. This time, it was to a tavern that sold only elven wine. He was worried that they wouldn't be served when they walked in and saw how finely decorated it was. It was easy to hide drunken teenagers in a rowdy tavern, but a classy place like this might not be so tolerant. He was surprised, then, when they were not only given everything they asked for but led to a private table by a window overlooking a wide canal.

"You're a prince, you moron," Svala pointed out when he expressed his confusion. "Everywhere you go you're recognised. Did you really think anyone would dare say no?"

Fair point.

"Besides," Svala continued, "you've been sheltered. We're not actually too young to be here. Everyone does it."

He put a hand over hers and sipped his drink. The wine had an unusual effect. It wasn't particularly strong or anything, but he felt dizzy and warm as he drank it. He vaguely remembered reading something about elven wine being laced with rare ingredients to affect changes in its drinkers. Each wine was different and intended for different occasions. Whatever this one was, it was nice.

Between them they shared two bottles. He didn't feel drunk, which was good, but he felt very relaxed and comfortable. The wine's effect on Svala seemed similar, given how she sank contentedly into her seat, her fingers tracing shapes on the back of his hand.

"Loki," she said, her eyes darting up to his almost shyly. "I think tonight I'd like to see your room."

"You've seen my rooms," he said, frowning.

"No," she said, exasperated. "Not your rooms. Your room."

His mouth went dry. "My bedroom, you mean?"

"Urgh! No. Your laundry room. Of course your bedroom!"

His heart raced. He grinned at her and grabbed her hand. "Let's go."

It was exquisite. Her touch, her taste, her scent, the sound of her breath panting in his ears, the pounding of their hearts in step with one another. He was consumed with ecstasy. She was so warm and soft and eager. He never wanted it to end, but of course it did – and sooner than he had hoped.

He wanted her to stay, but she couldn't. Her mother would definitely notice if she wasn't home in the morning. She was happy to walk home alone, but he went with her anyway. He said he wanted to make sure she was safe, but it was mostly because he couldn't bear to part with her yet.

She kissed him contentedly when they reached her street. Again, she asked him "tomorrow?" and he ardently agreed.

When tomorrow came, Loki realised there was blood in his bed. Not a lot, but it was bright against the white sheets. Of course. He hadn't thought about it the night before. It wasn't a huge problem, but the laundress was bound to notice and there could be rumours. He tried his best to erase the stain with magic, but he only really succeeded in smudging it. Oh well. He just hoped Svala wouldn't be angry.

They repeated that night six more times.

The second time was better than the first – it was longer and less clumsy, and Svala seemed to enjoy it more. The third was better still, and the fourth. It was a learning curve. Each time, he learned more about what she liked, what worked and what didn't, how to keep himself from ending it too early. Svala was not shy in giving him instructions, either, which was endlessly helpful. He returned the favour, guiding her to what increased his own pleasure.

He couldn't believe his good fortune. He had known Svala for years, for as long as he could remember, really, and he didn't know what had finally prompted her to start all this. Had she been planning it? For how long? Or had it been impulsive, triggered by Fandral telling her that he had been excluded from their tavern visit too? Whatever the reason, he was sure she would tell him soon.

After their seventh night in bed, Svala got dressed to leave, as usual, but at the time she usually turned to him with still lustful eyes and confirmed the next night, she said: "I'm busy tomorrow."

He didn't process her words at first. "Sorry?" he sat up, letting the covers fall from his chest.

"I'm busy tomorrow," Svala repeated, rolling her eyes. "I have plans with my sister."

No! He fought the urge to argue with her. He hated the thought of spending tomorrow night alone, but he knew they couldn't keep their nightly visits up forever. Sooner or later they'd need to rest.

"You will come the night after, then?" He hadn't meant it to come out as a question.

"Maybe," Svala said. He would have been worried at this uncertain reply, but her saucy expression put his mind at ease.

As he predicted, the next night was difficult. He had a lot of energy to expel and no outlet. He didn't sleep for long, and was very tired in the morning, but the thought of her returning that night got him through the day.

Only she didn't return. He waited for her knock for hours before sending her a raven, asking where she was. The raven came back with his letter an hour later. She hadn't been home.

He started to worry that he had offended her. He raked his mind through the memories of their nights together, searching for anything she seemed unhappy with, paying particular attention to that last night. He came back with nothing. She had been very satisfied, he was sure of it, and he didn't remember any unfavourable reactions to things he'd said. Maybe he just hadn't noticed? It wouldn't be the first time he had upset someone and didn't realise.

He barely slept again that night. He told himself not to jump to conclusions. It had only been two days. He didn't own her, and it wasn't implausible that she had just been tired or out with her family. He sent her a raven during the day this time, asking if she would see him that evening, and received a reply nearly an hour later.

"Ok," was all it said.

She knocked on his door as usual and he found her leaning against the frame, just as she always had. Relief flooded him. He had been overreacting.

"Let's go out."

They went to the first tavern again. He watched Svala for signs of change, but detected nothing. They drank until they felt warm and a little clumsy, and they left when he felt her hand squeezing his forearm significantly. They went back to his bedroom at the palace and indulged in each other just as they had before their two-day break, and Loki finally felt reassured that he hadn't messed anything up. When Svala dressed and said "walk with me," he was happy to comply.

They had barely walked a hundred metres down the corridor when Svala spoke again.

"I don't think I will come back for a while," she said, perfectly casually.

He must have misheard. "What was that?"

"I'm not coming back for a while."

So she had said what he thought. "What do you mean? Do you want me to go to your house?" He thought for a moment. She wouldn't want him at her house. Her family would find out. "I can get us a room somewhere if you're uncomfortable coming here."

Svala laughed. "No, Loki, that isn't what I mean."

He didn't understand, but he felt dread spreading slowly from the pit of his stomach. She took his arm and leaned against him. "You know I've had a lot of fun with you," she said. "And you've had fun too, haven't you?"

"Of course," he said. This had been the best time of his life.

"I'll always feel a lot of affection for you. You were my first," she said. "But if we keep doing this I won't have time or energy to explore. The other night when I went out with Ingrid, there was a man I wanted to sleep with, but I was so tired out from spending all week with you, I couldn't do it."

He stopped dead in his tracks. He felt like the shining palace floor had disappeared and he was falling to the ground far beneath.

"You tried to sleep with someone else?" He spoke each word carefully, trying to wrap his head around it, hoping that he had totally misunderstood and she would laugh at him.

"What?" She stared at him, bemused. "Is that a problem?"

He felt sick. He thought he might actually vomit. Right here in the middle of the corridor. "Yes, it's a problem, Svala. Why would you do that? Have I upset you?"

She searched his face, seeming genuinely perplexed. "Did you think… did you think this was a permanent arrangement?"

He was lost for words. He just stared at her, overcome with horror.

"Loki," she said, laughter in her voice. "We have misunderstood each other. I just thought it would be fun. I'm sorry if I wasn't clear."

Tears prickled at his eyes. He pushed them back. He felt like she was gouging out his heart. It physically hurt. He choked trying to speak. "You don't feel anything for me?"

"Oh, I do. I'm very fond of you," she moved to take his hands and he jerked away from her. Surprise flashed across her face, then a wicked smirk twisted her lips. "Are you in love with me?"

It was like a slap. "I–" he couldn't respond. He couldn't deny it, but admitting it seemed worse. She already had too much power over him.

"By the Norns," she breathed, her face bright with amusement. "You are. A prince is in love with me!"

She laughed heartily, as if she'd just been told the most hilarious joke of her life. It was too much. How could she be so cruel? He thought he would suffocate. The air around him felt so heavy. Through the blur of not yet fallen tears, he saw pity on her face.

"Don't be upset, Loki," she said. "You will find someone else very quickly. Maybe after we've both been with some other people we can get together again and compare notes. I wouldn't want tonight to be our last night together. I do like you." She drew close to him now, reaching out to touch his face. He seized her wrist the moment her fingers brushed his skin.

"Ow!" She wrenched her arm away, indignant, eyes blazing.

"Get away from me," he whispered. He couldn't stand her any longer.

"Sorry?"

"Leave. Now."

She didn't move. It looked like she was going to argue, to make him see things her way before they parted. Clearly she could see that wasn't going to happen. She turned around and walked away without saying another word. The moment she turned the corner and was out of sight he broke down.

He crumpled to the floor and tears rushed down his face as if relieved to have finally been set free from his eyes. It was over. No, more than that – it had never been. All the time he had spent thinking about her, longing for her, daring to believe she might feel the same way for him, it was all a waste, all pointless and stupid. Not only did he feel the agony of rejection, but the all-consuming fire of humiliation. He had welcomed her into his most vulnerable place – his heart – and she had laughed at him. Actually, literally laughed at him. Worst of all, he could never forget her. She was Fandral's sister. He saw her brother every day. He saw her every time there was a celebration at the palace. He would see her in his dreams, too, and every time he was alone at night and lust smouldered inside him, the memory of her would surface like an evil spirit to make him relive this moment over and over again.

He couldn't stay where he was, sprawled on the floor in the middle of the corridor. Someone could walk past at any time and he wouldn't be found like this. It took a gargantuan effort to pull himself to his feet, but once he was up he found he couldn't bear to go back to his rooms. He couldn't stand the thought of crawling back into the bed where Svala had been not even an hour earlier. He saw, a little further down the corridor, an alcove, nearly completely hidden from sight. He stumbled towards it and sank into one of its cushioned seats. He tried to calm himself, but the sobs continued to wrack his body. Every time he thought he was back under control, the pain would wash over him again, searing his nerves and bringing fresh tears to his cheeks.

"Loki?"

The sound of his name pulled him violently back to reality. His head snapped up to see who was there. Thor. His brother stood at the opening of the alcove, his entire form full of concern. Loki's immediate instinct was to try to hide himself. He covered his face and turned away.

"What is it? Why are you crying? Why are you here?"

He felt Thor sit down next to him and he pulled away before his brother could touch him. "Nothing. I'm fine. You can leave."

Loki wasn't surprised Thor didn't believe him. It was hard to sound convincingly fine when you were still shaking with tears. "You're not fine. Talk to me."

He heard Fandral's voice and his chest constricted. "I'll go on ahead. This looks like a brothers thing."

He was grateful that Fandral had realised he wasn't welcome. It would be hard enough dealing with Thor without male Svala gaping at him too.

"Brother, please tell me what happened to you. It will ease the burden," Thor continued. "I will help you however I can, but you must tell me."

He didn't uncover his face or turn to his brother. He wasn't sure he could.

"Loki, please. It hurts me to see you this upset."

Loki still didn't move. He felt Thor's words tug at his wounded heart and he thought that maybe it would help to talk.

He heard Thor sigh. "I should not have neglected you for so long. I feel we haven't spoken for weeks. I'm sorry that I've been distant."

Distant? It hadn't even occurred to him while he was seeing Svala that he hadn't spoken to his brother. He had been rather preoccupied. It surprised him that Thor was the one to bring up their silence. He took another moment and a deep breath before he felt able to look at his brother, his eyes still blurry with tears.

"You cannot help. It is done," he croaked, and was taken aback by the fragility of his own voice.

"What is done? Loki, tell me what you have been doing."

"Svala," Loki said, a jolt shooting through his chest as he uttered the name. "She came to me the evening after your trip to Volstagg's tavern. We went out, we drank a lot, and…" He found he couldn't finish the sentence, but Thor seemed to understand.

"You started a romance," he said, his face carefully neutral. "I should have seen the signs. You were much changed."

Loki felt sick again as Thor reminded him how happy he had been so recently. "I thought it was a romance," he said. "But I was a fool."

He told Thor everything. Well, nearly everything. He left out the details – his brother didn't want to hear them, and they were his private moments. He couldn't take them back from Svala, but he wasn't going to share them with anyone else. When he got to his last conversation with Svala, the pain and humiliation came surging back and he wasn't able to hold in a fresh stream of tears. His brother listened in silence, steady as a rock. He held him when the tears returned, giving comfort without judgement. When he finally finished, when his story was all told and he had no more tears left to drop, he straightened himself up. It was easier to look Thor in the eye now.

"I feel like the stupidest person in Asgard," he said. "She spoke as if I were ridiculous to think she wanted to be with me. I shouldn't have assumed."

"No, Loki," Thor put an arm back around his shoulders. "She should have made her intentions clear. I suspect that she didn't because she enjoyed the power your affection gave her. If she were clearer with you she would have lost some of that power."

Loki blinked at him. "You think she had this planned from the start? You think she meant to do this to me?"

"No," his brother replied, thoughtful. "I don't know her well enough to say, but she is likely more childish than cruel. I only mean that you mustn't think yourself in the wrong."

He felt possibly more stupid now that Thor seemed to have so much wisdom in this field. He realised he didn't know what similar experiences his brother may have had. "Thor," he started, unsure how to word his question. "Have you– Did– Has this happened to you? Or something similar?"

"No," Thor said. "Actually, you've somewhat overtaken me in this area."

Loki's mouth fell open. "Really?"

His brother laughed, and his stomach clenched. He remembered the last laugh he'd heard. By the Norns, you are!

"I wouldn't call this much of a victory," Loki said, then his lips twitched. "But I'll still try not to be too smug."

Thor walked with him to his rooms. He found he still couldn't go to the bedroom, so his brother fetched him blankets and he set himself up on the chaise. Svala's phantom haunted here too, but it was weaker. At least the chaise didn't smell like her.

"Do you want me to excuse you from your class with mother tomorrow?" Thor asked before he left.

Loki considered it. "No," he said, eventually. "It will be worse to sit here in idleness. But– can you warn her I will not be well? I'm not ready to answer her questions."

"I will," Thor replied, then turned to leave.

"Wait," Loki said. Thor turned back to face him. "You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Thor smiled warmly. "Of course I won't. It isn't my story to tell. Besides, I would prefer my brother and my friend not to murder each other."

Thor waited a moment in case Loki had anything more to say. He did, but the words stuck in his throat. Just before Thor turned to leave again, he dislodged them.

"One more thing," he said, his voice shaking a little. At this Thor moved from the door back to the chaise. "I need you to promise me that no matter how much time has passed, or how drunk you are, if Svala approaches you – don't."

Thor looked almost offended. He knelt down and put both hands on Loki's shoulders. "Brother, I would never betray you."

They stared at each other, and Loki knew without even the smallest doubt that Thor was sincere.

His brother left, and he fell asleep almost instantly.

The next few days were hard.

As per his request, his mother didn't ask him any questions, though he could tell she was desperate to know what had happened. Frømund was less kind, asking him repeatedly why he was so sluggish and miserable, but the poor spirits of the rest of the group lessened the pressure. Sif neither looked at nor talked to Thor and Hogun and Fandral seemed deeply exhausted. He wondered what had happened between them, but he didn't try to figure it out. He would ask Thor about it later. Swanhild the tutor, the last person he was scheduled to see each day, made no indication that she had noticed his dismal mood, and certainly made no comments.

This routine went on for a week before he felt things starting to improve. Fandral being smacked in the face with a sword was a particular highlight, but he started to notice little things around him that made life a bit less dark. He started enjoying the sunshine again, the feel of the breeze, relaxed lunches and dinners with his brother. He even, finally, told his mother what had happened. Well, an abridged version of what happened – all the heartbreak but without the sex and alcohol. Her comforting presence was a significant factor in healing his wounds, and he decided that next time something awful happened to him, he would tell her first.

He didn't see Svala for weeks, not even when he started going out to taverns with Thor and his friends. He didn't know where she was or what – who – she was doing, but he was glad he didn't have to see it. He also discovered that she was right about at least one of the things she'd said. He did find someone else very quickly once he was ready. And someone else. And someone else. It turned out it was quite easy, actually. He never made the mistakes he'd made with her again.

Well, at least not exactly the same ones.

Author's Note: I haven't written the next chapter yet, so I can't say when there will be an update, but I'm thinking it will be Sif-centric. Or at least Sif's POV. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!