Love means fighting
Love means losing
Love means giving up
Love means to win
Love means to give in
Love means to give
Love means giving up
Love means to love
Love means crying
Love means laughter
Love means sausage
Love means happiness
Love means compromise
Loki: "Maybe you should stop thinking and listen to your heart"
Sigyn: "And if there is nothing"
Loki: "Do you really believe that?"
Sigyn: "No"
Sigyn: "But"
Loki: "Then there is no but, does it and your people will listen to you"
Sigyn: "What does my people have of it, if that could make things worse?"
Loki: "A true queen"
Sigyn, the woman the Lokis biggest win and his biggest loss. Why ... very easy!
Profit because it holds its greatest and reflects the bank of its feelings. She always stands behind him and keeps his back free. On the other hand, she is very stubborn and consistent when he goes too far again.
His biggest defeat because Loki himself never thought he could ever love so much that it scared him. Afraid someone could make use of his greatest weakness ... Sigyn
I hope you all had a nice Valentines Day ^^
(Complete picture editing by myself, Sigyn Cosplay by me loki Cosplay by my Loki Patner 8)
Are you making any more chapters for her savior? And if you are can you please tag me?
Eventually?? Yes. Now?? No. I’m on hiatus for my mental health
And I’m not doing tag lists for individual stories. I’m also not editing my list currently because I’ve stepped back from my writing life entirely while I take care of myself
ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit.
RATING: T
NOTES: This unexpected chapter shall probably come as a surprise to most of you. I have been super busy: applying to grad schools, getting into my preferred one, and beginning my studies. I can’t say that my updates shall be regularly posted from now on (which they never were any way), but here is something to dissipate the ongoing silence since I last posted… 7 months ago. Wow. I really am sorry for the delay, but thank you so much for sticking around. Enjoy! ♥︎
I began to take notice of a change in Loki shortly after my eighteenth birthday.
At first they were little things that I did not initially question, such as the way in which Loki would fall into a sort of trance while I was talking to him, his index finger brushing his upper lip in deep contemplation. Or how I would find him in the morning sleeping soundly at the desk in his study, his head resting on a plethora of mighty volumes: a clear sign that he had never retired to his room the previous night.
On one particular morning, I padded quietly over to him to gaze over his shoulder at the books he had been reading and found that all of them were filled with peculiar diagrams and archaic runes that were completely indiscernible to me.
One diagram stood out to me though: it was that of a man being transfigured in some way. The illustrated figure on the page seemed to be in mid-transformation and the diagram was not unlike Michelangelo’s Vitruvian Man.
I then turned my head slightly to analyze another book placed next to it but instead came face-to-face with Loki.
I gasped, and he answered with a soft, amused chuckle.
“Well aren’t you a nosy little mouse.” He muttered in a raspy, just-awoken tone, as his hands quickly took my waist and settled me onto his lap. I gave out a squeak, which caused him to laugh even more. I calmed down as his arms wrapped tenderly about me, and he rested his head beside mine, inhaling deeply. The relaxing scent of his bergamot and sandalwood based cologne enveloped me in a warm cocoon.
“You never pass up the opportunity of getting your head stuck in a book, hm?” He asked, placing a kiss on the top of my head.
My curiosity got the best of me as I posed a question for him. “What are those runes, Loki?”
He paused, before closing the book that was directly before him: the one that I had questioned.
“They belong to an ancient language. One that is only used by a civilization that is highly dissimilar to yours - I mean, ours.” He quickly corrected himself, and I knew that he had hoped this had gone unnoticed by me, but it did not.
Was this society the one that he belonged to? The one that he had returned to on account of a threatening war?
The one that he was keeping hidden from me?
Something was consuming his thoughts, and I intended to find out just what it was.
In the meantime, I was continuing my visits to the Blythe’s farm. Agnes and her parents were getting on splendidly, and on those days of my visits, I would assist them with the farm work while wearing my orphanage uniform and an apron. As I didn’t mind getting my hands dirty, even though Agnes continuously urged me that it was not proper for a ‘lady’ to get herself involved in such proceedings, I happily tended to whatever needed to be done.
They also had assistance on most days from Benjamin, the hired farmhand - who Agnes had developed a deep affection for that had yet to be requited.
Loki, who seemed busier than he had ever been before, even persuaded me to accept the Blythe’s invitation to stay for supper on most nights. As it was summer and the days were much longer, it was still light outside when it was time for me to mount Arabella and return to Heathcote.
Even though I took great pleasure in the simple comforts of Agnes’ home, as well as Mrs Blythe’s savoury meals, I was slightly saddened by the notion that Loki was attempting to push me away, and that he had more important matters to tend to.
As I didn’t want to be considered a nuisance in the eyes of my future husband, upon returning home I would convey Arabella to Dickon in the stables and then hurry up to my room, not bothering to take my bonnet and light cloak off until I was once inside.
And then, I would wait.
For any sort of call that would indicate that I was sought by Loki. That I was wanted.
But nothing would come.
I refused to shed a tear, even when one evening I opened up the cherished book of poems that Loki had composed for me and traced my fingers over his fine handwriting. Even when I cradled the single carnation in the palm of my hand: the one flower that had been the first to bloom in our garden. I had cried too often ever since I had come to Heathcote and had, in countless instances, let down my guard. I had to be strong, and self-reliant, once again.
Upon safely storing the book away into one of my desk compartments, I noticed a peculiar movement of light out the window closest to me, as I had forgotten to draw close the curtains earlier that night. It had been a transitory flicker at first, but then I noticed it again out of the corner of my eye. It had shifted slightly more upwards this time but was still clearly observable from my viewpoint.
I trained my eye to outside the window before finally detecting where it had come from.
The tower in the far wing of the house.
I had only been in this wing on that day that I assisted Elsie with her task of cleaning those neglected rooms, which had turned out to be just a cruel assignment from Loki, as no one had stepped foot inside them since then.
Mabel, who was seated on a tufted velvet pillow on a chair nearby, gave out a soft whine, and I reached out my hand to comfort her - not allowing my eyes to leave the appointed spot through the window.
There it was again.
The silhouetted individual carrying the candlestick passed by another window at the uppermost part of the tower staircase, before the light finally escaped from my view and was seen no more. I closed the drapes with surrender, and unable to keep my eyes open for long, I found my feet and crawled inside my bed, drifting to sleep at once due to my exhaustion from all the farm work I had done earlier that day.
The following night and many nights after that, the light going up that winding staircase was seen time and time again, usually just before midnight.
I decided to question Loki about it one morning at breakfast, which was usually the only time I saw him as Mrs Cunningham provided me with a packed lunch to bring with me to the farm and I never encountered him upon my return in the evenings.
He did not usually act indifferently to me, as you might think, reader, but was instead most doting and attentive.
But on this morning, his demeanour had altered when I raised a question.
“I wish to ask you something, sir.”
“What troubles you, my darling?” He asked while buttering his toast. His green eyes steadily looked at me from across the table, which situated amongst the sumptuous array of breakfast foods was an exquisite crystal vase filled with white lilies from the garden.
As I met his intense gaze I slightly tensed up, but immediately found this reaction to be foolish and stoically proceeded.
“Is the tower in the wing opposite from mine currently in use?”
Before replying to my question he languidly took a bite of his toast and regarded the front page of the newspaper that was, as customary, positioned beside his plate. It was as though he had been expecting this question all this time, for he was not startled by it in the least.
“Tower? What tower?” He replied, his eyes still on today’s headlines.
“I believe you know exactly which tower I am referring to.” I folded my arms across my chest in frustration.
He shook his head in opposition. “No, I do not, Victoria. The only tower I know of has been locked up for years.” With this he took a final bite of his toast, leaving the crust on the toile patterned dish before him. “Well, I best be going. I have got a lot of reading to do. Please give my warmest regards to Agnes and her family this morning.”
He touched my shoulder as he walked past my chair and then departed for his study, which he would lock himself inside for most of the day unless he had a meeting with one of his tenants.
We no longer kissed, nor did we embrace.
He only acknowledged me with platonic gestures, and these signs of fatherlike affection, if you were to even classify them as such, led me to believe that nothing had transpired to alter our relationship.
It made me feel that I was still just his ward.
¨¨¨°º0º°¨¨¨
Time passed, as it always does.
I slipped into a state of deep melancholy, yet nobody suspected any change in my feelings, for I had become an expert at disgusting them. I acted before others as though a veil of happiness was permanently shrouded over me.
But it was not easy for me to remain nonplussed when Loki was before me.
Because when I was with him, all of those happy moments came back to me. They were replayed in my mind as though I was watching them through the stereographic viewer we once looked at together: when one memory disappeared from view, it wasn’t long until another one was set into place.
On a hot morning in early July, I was picking strawberries in the far corner of the Blythe’s property. They had been planted earlier in the year by a farmer at an adjacent farm, who had been paid by Loki to maintain the fields until a new tenant could be found. Agnes was tending to a nearby row, while her parents had started at the opposite corner.
Agnes was not foolish.
She could always see right through me and knew that something had changed just about a week after my birthday.
“Any signs of improvement?” She asked me, as she plucked a ripe strawberry off of a nearby vine and placed it into her basket.
I shook my head as I also continued to add more of the fruit to my growing batch. “No, there have been none.” A strong gust of wind then came that practically blew my straw hat off of my head, but I quickly caught it and tugged it firmly back down.
She sighed dramatically. “What is wrong with men? One minute they shower you with fancy gifts and an adorable puppy, and the next they decide to ignore you completely!” She articulated this in a fiery whisper so her parents couldn’t overhear the content of our conversation, but then she showed remorse by kneeling beside me and taking both of my hands in hers.
“I’m sorry, Vic… but the wedding is a little less than two months away, which leaves plenty of time for things to fall back into place.”
“Yes, perhaps you are right. Thank you.” I gently squeezed her hands to show my gratitude for her words before returning to my work. I didn’t wish to dwell on the matter for too long.
To lighten up the conversation, I returned to a subject that was sure to make Agnes blush.
“So how is it going with Benj-”
“SHHH,” She hushed at once. “He’s just over there!”
She was right. I had initially thought that he was not working today, for I hadn’t seen him earlier. But he was tending to the farm animals, in his fresh, unsoiled clothes, as if was still early in the morning, and wearing his trusted bowler cap. His golden hair stood out against the black matted felt of his hat and his blue eyes attentively regarded each of the chickens that were situated in the pen before him.
“He’ll come around soon,” I remarked, after which we fell into a fit of laughter that only ceased when he looked over at us a gave us a friendly wave, in which he then smiled tenderly at Agnes in particular. She smiled back sweetly before returning to her strawberries.
“Perhaps you might even be wed before me!” I added in a whisper.
A small mound of dirt was inconspicuously flicked onto my skirt in response.
After our day’s work, and a tasty supper, I shared my gratitude for the Agnes and her family’s hospitality. Before going to collect Arabella in the stable, they presented me with a wrapped bundle of strawberries to take back home with me, which I securely placed in my small carpet bag that attached to Arabella’s saddle.
Arabella was well taken care of by Mr Blythe and Benjamin throughout the day and received many carrots and bales of hay to feed on. Benjamin had just briefly groomed and saddled her moments before I was set to head out. She always whinnied when I approached.
“Hey there Arabella, ready to go home?”
Another neigh from her prompted me to lead her outside before I mounted and urged Arabella forward in a canter. Going down the dirt path, I then turned right towards the road that led me back towards Heathcote.
Night had yet to descend, but the skies had turned overcast: a clear sign of an oncoming storm. The powerful moorland winds rushed past my face, disheveling my pinned up hair and singing a harsh cacophony into my ears.
And then there was a distinct call from my right.
“Miss! Miss! Please help!”
I immediately pulled on the reigns, bringing Arabella to a sharp halt. After looking briefly around, I detected a figure lying down amongst a nearby plot of heather, which was now in full bloom. From my viewpoint, I could see that it was a heavy set man settled hopelessly on the ground, a few feet away from the road.
He let out a cry of agony before he continued to speak, his voice was in a thick Yorkshire dialect. “Miss, I’m injured! Please help me to the village. My horse ran off after I fell.”
I quickly got down from Arabella while commanding her to stay in her place. I hastily went over to where the man was lying and inquired about what had happened.
“My horse got startled when he spotted an adder on the road and I have twisted my ankle.”
I got down on my knees to examine his injury, but then things became all a blur.
The man took me by my shoulders and threw me backwards. He then swiftly took his small pistol out of his pocket and shot a round into the sky to frighten Arabella. She ran off pell-mell down the road, leaving me deserted and without any means of returning home.
But my thoughts were only momentarily positioned on this, for something else was happening. An excessive force was pushing me down onto the grouse, as a hand was fumbling to pull up my skirts.
“Mhm, it looks like my days of planning for this moment shall finally pay off. It became like clockwork eventually. You have always been quite punctual.”
I screamed as loud as I could and began to squirm excessively underneath him as I finally knew what his true intent was. But my scream could only be heard for a second, as a large, sweaty palm was clamped over my mouth. With a sharp tilt of my head, I evaded his hand just enough to allow me to bite down forcefully on his index finger.
He yelped as he shook his hand in pain and from my position I could see that I had drawn blood.
However, he did not withdraw his body weight from on top of me.
“You little bitch!” He shouted bitterly. He then fumbled for the pistol in his pocket and aimed it towards me. “Don’t make me use this on you!” He warned.
I immediately froze and shut my eyes closed in fright, cowering my head down towards my chest.
“Loki…” I desperately whispered to myself, but the man had overheard me.
He laughed maliciously at my pitiful call for help. “He can’t help you out here, sweetie. No one can.”
A husky, menacing voice answered with a growl.
“You’re wrong, Lawrence.”
Loki: "They'll let you out of your sight for 5 minutes!"
Sigyn: "You were away darling 6 months ..."
Loki: "Yes, and yet you are not in control of the situation"
Sigyn: "I was in better control of the length than you"
Thor: "You couldn't have found a better time to discuss!"
ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are living in the late 1800’s and your parents pass away due to a tragic accident. Leaving you an orphan, you are sent to a miserable orphanage. Then, a mysterious and harsh man named Loki visits the orphanage and takes you on as his ward. He brings you to his crumbling mansion in the English countryside, where you face his cruel intentions, and eventually discover that you care for him much more than you’d like to admit.
RATING: T
NOTES: So sorry for the delay, as usual. I really wish that I could publish these chapters more quickly for you all. Perhaps that shall be my resolution for the new year.. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I think many of you shall be pleased with what transpires in this chapter ♥︎
A layer of fog thinly roamed within the perimeter of the garden as I entered through the lofty iron gates the following morning. There was an essence of undisturbed tranquility in that early hour, a feeling that I would have usually cherished. But at that particular moment, all I could feel was apprehension for what was to come.
My eyelids had not once fallen shut following my master’s departure from my room due to the state of uncertainty that his words had placed me in. I was not entirely sure what he had meant, nor of how he wished to alter my present situation - as I didn’t want anything about it to change.
But what came to mind was that his decisions were being influenced by Lavinia in some way, as if he was the puppet and she the manipulating puppeteer.
As I continued to walk upon the neatly trimmed paths of the garden, I began to wonder if my master had not yet awoken and if I was the sole dweller of the enclosed space. I proceeded to make my way around, the tall hedges situated about partially obscuring my view now and again. It wasn’t until I entered into the small semi-circular area near the back of the garden that I saw that I wasn’t alone.
He faced away from me, and I noticed that his arms were securely clasped behind his back in contemplation. He must have heard the rustling of my skirts, for he then turned around.
Even at a distance, it appeared that Loki had fallen into the very same predicament as I the following night. Dark circles were apparent underneath his fevered eyes: an indicator that he too had not gotten any rest.
He took his time eyeing my person as I walked closer to him, paying special attention to the garments in which I was wearing. It seemed that they were what attracted him most, and I shortly found out the reason for this.
“You’re wearing dark colors again.” He acknowledged with evident distaste, forgoing a proper greeting. “Why?”
I decided to be straightforward with my answer, as I knew that I would ultimately regret hiding my true feelings from him. “I thought the color suitable, sir, in regards to the news you are to tell me.”
“But I hoped you would be pleased by my news.”
“Pleased?” I repeated with disbelief, a heavy sigh escaping my mouth.“Pleased to know that you are to marry, sir?”
“Yes.” He answered succinctly.
His brusque manner of speaking pained me. What had caused him to become so impassive? He seemed uncommonly rigid and reserved.
“I love Heathcote, more than any other place in the world, but now I’m afraid I must prepare to leave it.” I gasped for air as this thought consumed my mind. I pictured myself situated inside a carriage in my traveling frock and bonnet, my luggage situated on top of the vehicle’s roof as I was driven further and further away from the only place that I now called home. I tried to further convince myself of accepting this prospect with what I next said. “And leave it I shall. At the first opportunity.. before today’s breakfast is even set on the table.”
“You don’t have to.” The detached tone of his voice caused me to become infuriated at once.
“I must, sir, for I couldn’t bear to live here with that self-absorbed woman, in which her sole purpose will be to turn me away from you!” I loudly vociferated, but I swiftly grew soft with despair. “And I don’t wish for that to happen, sir… I don’t wish to loose you. But she stands between us, and it is she that you shall ultimately choose over myself.”
He said nothing in response, and I feared that my words had agitated him. He walked away to stand before one of the beautiful rosebushes and I slowly followed behind him.
“I forget sometimes that no matter how clever you are, you are still just an inexperienced child when it comes to certain matters.” He reflected as he reached out and cradled a rose in his hand. A few petals of the delicate flower became loose from this action and lazily drifted to the mound of soil below. “It has been wrong of me to mislead you for so long.” He admitted, with his back still facing me.
“How have you misled me, sir?”
He suddenly turned around and leant down to meet my height, and before I could even conceive what he was about to do, he took my face in his hands and guided his soft lips to collide with mine in a gentle, yet passionate, kiss.
When I became fully aware of the sensation of his lips on mine, I was so surprised that I staggered backwards and touched my right hand to my agape mouth, in which a startled gasp escaped from.
I felt a flush rising to my cheeks; the lingering feeling of his lips on my mouth confirmed that he had indeed kissed me, despite how I could scarcely believe it.
I had never been kissed before, and was therefore struck dumb by what he had just done. My fingertips fleetingly traced the place my lips where his had just been, as I continued to gaze at him with widened eyes. A distraught look passed across his features, signaling that he greatly feared the consequences of his impetuousness.
“I deeply apologize, Victoria. I could not control myself just then.”
“I-I just don’t understand, sir.” I quietly spoke up once I reclaimed my voice. “I thought your affections to already be engaged. To Lavinia.”
“I rescinded my courtship invitation on the night of the ball. That is why we left so hastily the following morning.”
Details of that trip began to resurface, and I recalled that he had said that “certain measures” had to be carried out on his part. While I had believed this to be his proposal to Lavinia, had he actually intended it to be the upheaval of their relationship?
“What?” I asked, positively baffled. “But why?”
“Lavinia is nothing to me! Don’t you understand? It’s you that I want.” He took my hands desperately and pulled me even closer to him. “Your soul, and mine, are one in the same, my darling girl. I offer you my hand, my heart, and all of my possessions. I want you to pass your life with me at your side, and, most especially, for you to remain here at Heathcote.”
I persisted in asking questions, even though I was greatly taken aback by his confession.
“But I was under the impression that you had been Lavinia’s suitor for a while now - for quite some time before you took me on as your ward.”
“I was, but it was when I first met you that everything changed.” He admitted openly.
I couldn’t suppress the low chuckle that left my mouth.
“What is it?” He asked in a concerned tone of voice.
“You state that your affections altered upon our first meeting, and yet you persisted in neglecting me. I had never felt so lonely before in my life then in those initial days here. You hurt me, sir, both emotionally and physically, and you drove me to the moors, where I could have very well perished if you had not found me in time.”
“Oh Victoria, do forgive me. I swear that that was not my intent. I was foolish to think that treating you poorly would diminish my affection for you. Your very presence at Heathcote tormented me so that I could hardly sleep nor eat. I wished to talk and get to know you more, but for some reason I could not bring myself to do so. I know I have alluded to it before, but I was quite intimidated by you - you small, stern, beautiful and highly clever creature. ”
I blinked at him a few times, utterly convinced that I must still be in my bed and that what was playing out was all a dream. But as I placed a hand onto my master’s chest, I realized that it was not. He was no phantom of my imagination, but as corporeal of a being as you or I, dear reader.
He further fortified this supposition of mine by placing his own hand above my own, which must have felt all aquiver in his tender grasp. I had hardly any cognition over my body at that moment, you see.
“Are you in earnest, sir? I-I can hardly believe you..” I shakily inquired as I searched his eyes, pleading for him to confirm that he was indeed being honest.
“Yes, my dear. Please, take me as your husband.”
“My husband?” I repeated in awe.
“Yes.” He answered with a sigh and then a faint chuckle, and I noticed that a few tears brimmed in his eyes. He cupped my cheek with his opposite hand. “I love you, Victoria. Will you be mine?”
I smiled, his words so full of promise, and yet I still could hardly believe what he was suggesting. It had been me, all this time? When he had referred to the wedding ring at the picnic, and the subject of yesterday night’s conversation.. he had not been referring to Lavinia at all, but to me?
I was thinking this over for longer then I realized, as he spoke up once again, impatiently awaiting my answer. “I do hope that your silence does not bode that you are in opposition to my intentions?”
“Oh, Loki. No, of course not.” I hastily responded, which left me rather breathless when I softly uttered these next words: “Yes… I am yours.”
We exchanged smiles before I stood up on the tips of my toes to kiss him once again. The tenderness and unity that enveloped me along with his embrace caused me to silently weep, and I was convinced in that moment that I would never be inclined to feel loneliness again.
Before he could notice my tears, I wrapped my arms about him and placed my head on his chest. And as his body encircled my own, and he repeatedly placed kisses upon the top of my head, all that ran through my mind was:
“I am his. I am his.”
The state of bliss that fell upon me after Loki’s proposal was perpetual and seemed as if no impediment would ever thwart it.
Following what had occurred in the garden, we had walked together hand in hand back into the mansion, and as I meant to go forward down the corridor and descend the stairs into the servant’s area to tell the others of the news, Loki had held me back to greedily steal a few more kisses from off of my lips.
We both eventually made it downstairs, where Loki shared the news, calling me his ‘darling little bride’, which caused the servants to place down their forks and knives with astonishment, as they had been in the middle of their breakfast, and get up to happily congratulate the two of us. Besides Elsie, I don’t think any of the others had any indication of our relationship, or that Lavinia was no longer in the picture.
But then again, I also was still not entirely convinced of Loki’s revelation due to how surreal it all seemed.
Later that day, I had rode on Arabella to the Blythe’s farm on my own to tell Agnes of the news. I had found her alone in the kitchen preparing an early supper and initially acted as nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred to me. Nevertheless, once I did inform her of Loki’s proposal, she screamed with glee and jumped over to hug me, all the while taunting me by saying over and over that she had been right all along.
Her parents, who were out surveying the farmland at the time to make preparations for the upcoming planting season, had run back to the house in a fright, as they did not know the true reason for Agnes’s screams, but they were equally as pleased and surprised by the news once it was communicated to them.
I returned home just in time for afternoon tea, which was to be served today in Loki’s study. Walking into the room, I found him sitting at his desk, his attention invested in a large stack of papers, which undoubtedly concerned his many tenants. At once he noticed my presence and gazed up at me with a huge smile upon his lips.
He unfurled himself from his damask chair and slowly ambled towards me.
“Hello my darling.” He said, lowering his tall stature to briefly kiss me, which I still was not entirely used to him doing. “How did Agnes and her parents take the news?”
“It was rather unexpected for them, not unlike how the servants responded, but they deeply expressed their congratulations nevertheless.”
“That was very nice of them to do so. They shall of course be invited to our wedding.”
“Do you already have a date planned?” I inquired with curiosity.
He chuckled. “Not just yet, as I wished for your opinion before I settled on one.”
It was then that both Elsie and Mrs. Cunningham strolled into the room with the trays of teas and pastries, which they situated on the low table before the tufted green velvet sofa. After thanking them, they exited the room, sealing the door shut as they did so.
He sat closely besides me on the sofa, the tiered pleats of my taffeta dress practically spilling onto his lap. I had changed from the dull charcoal grey half-mourning frock that I had worn early this morning to one of a deep mauve purple, which looked rather vibrant against the dark sofa beneath me.
“I don’t believe I have ever personally made you a cup of tea before, Victoria. May I?” He kindly suggested.
“Of course, that is if you can prove to me that you can prepare an excellent cup to my liking.”
He raised an eyebrow and scrutinized me after I said this. “Oh really? Is that a challenge?”
“Yes, indeed, sir.” I boldly asserted.
With a smirk he proceeded to prepare a cup of tea for myself, and I found his confidence highly amusing.
After he was done, and the liquid was briefly swished around with a silver tea spoon, he lifted the rose patterned cup and saucer off from the table and into my hands. He looked onwards with anticipation as I guided the cup to my lips.
Taking a sip, I found that his efforts were satisfactory, and this was conveyed by the small smile I wore.
“I must applaud you sir, for I am most content with my tea.” I took another sip before speaking again, while he continued to relish in this minor accomplishment of his and made his own cup - solely with milk, which I mentally noted for future reference. “How ever did you guess what I would prefer?” I inquired with genuine curiosity.
“It’s all rather easy, my dear. I can tell, for a girl like yourself, that you do not wish to overindulge in a taste that is purely sweet, but that you would rather savor one that is balanced, softened and light to the palate.” These words rolled off his tongue like honey, and I found myself momentarily entranced. For a minute I believed he was attempting to seduce me.
“Therefore,” He continued. “You prefer more milk to sugar.”
“That is all rather impressive, sir, but am I really so easy to read?”
“Oh no, not at all. On the contrary, you may be the only one that I know closely in which I can never predict your true thoughts or feelings. It can be rather frustrating at times.” He furrowed his brow in deep thought and looked over my head and away.
“Well, Loki, if you wish to know my present thoughts, they are as follows: ‘that I still can’t entirely fathom the idea that the man whom I love wholeheartedly is to be my other half in life’.”
His attention immediately returned back to me after I revealed my true thoughts, and he took the cup out of my hands so that he could hold me closely.
“Oh my pet, you don’t know how much you please me by saying that.” He let out a rugged sigh of relief. “In the past, I had many a time believed that I would never hear such words of adoration leave your lips, and that such hopes of winning your heart would always be out of my reach.”
Resting my head upon his shoulders, our eyes remained glued to one another until he broke this contact when placing a tender kiss upon my forehead. One of my hands enclosed around his and my index finger traced the engraved letters of his signet ring as he awaited my answer.
“I promise that I shall prevent you from feeling that way ever again, sir, for here I am, within reach, and I do not wish to go far without you at my side from now on.” I passionately expelled these words, which felt as though they came from the deepest cavity of my heart. I don’t believe that I had ever uttered a statement as assertive, feverish and true as this one.
“Thank you for saying that, Victoria. Thank you.” He softly answered, cradling me even more closely to him.
I speculated that he genuinely became emotionally overcome by my response, for he ceased to speak for awhile afterwards. He just continued to hold my hand and trail his fingertips along my left side, and these gestures of affection held a higher significance to me then he could ever possibly know.
For it had felt to me that I had waited lifetimes for these moments… lifetimes to be loved by someone that is my equal.
