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❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ sᴇᴇ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀsᴋ ꒱


❝ HONEY, YOU'RE WEARING
A BATHROBE ❞

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V A N A H E I M

"Tell me about your father's quest, then," Eleanora said, speaking for the first time after a long period of silence. Neither she nor Loki would be getting any sleep that night and she would rather talk to him than stew in her thoughts.

"Well. . ." he began, trying to think of all the plans that he had come up with to succeed and finally— maybe—be better than Thor at something in their father's eyes. But now that he knew how Odin had treated the last Star, he would never wish that on someone, even someone as infuriating as the Star in front of him. Though, of course he wouldn't tell her that, so he sighed and admitted instead, "there's nothing more to tell you."

She watched him thoughtfully from her place on the opposite side of the brig. Her stardust eyes observed him with curious interest and it was only years of being at court that kept him from shifting under her intense gaze. "I don't know a lot about family dynamics and even less about what it's like to love someone. But the little I know about both of those things is that love— especially from a parent— should be unconditional. It's not something you have to earn by proving yourself."

"Hang on," Loki huffed. "Where in the Nine did you get that notion? This was just a way for me to fulfill my father's demand. I don't care about his love."

Her gaze remained on him unwaveringly. "Yes, you do. You may not care about it consciously, but deep down, you do. Everyone wants to be loved and accepted by their family, no matter how much they deny it. Just look at how pursued this quest— you've turned your brother's friend into a frog just so you could continue unchallenged. If you didn't care about your father's love, you would've just let Fandral take me to Asgard."

He wanted to tell her that that wasn't the entire reason for his actions— that winning his father's mission was second to trying to protect her. The vision the Stars had given him was still burned in his mind when he closed his eyes, except the fallen girl on the battlefield no longer had red hair— she had blonde, the color of wheat. Her eyes behind her closed lids were stardust-gray. He wanted to tell her that this version of that image made his heart twist in his chest like someone had buried a knife in it. But, again, that would mean sharing things that he wasn't even ready to come to terms yet himself.

So, instead of saying anything about that, he only replied, "well. . . look, pet, you'll understand when you meet him. Provided we don't get murdered by pirates first."

"Murdered by pirates. Heart torn out and eaten. Meet your father. I can't quite decide which sounds more fun."

The spark she'd had even moments ago when arguing her point about familial love had disappeared. She sounded so miserable and forlorn that it made even Loki's expression soften. The Star certainly had been through hell and back the last few days with hardly anything good happen in between. Coming to a decision— and against his better judgement— he stood from where he'd been sitting on the far side of the brig. At his motion, Eleanora looked up and watched him with apprehension, her face guarded as he came closer.

Seeing her reception of him, the god paused and pointed to the empty spot next to her. "May I sit?"

When she nodded— though her gaze still remained uneasy— he folded himself neatly next to her with his legs crossed. His lips were faintly quirked as he met her wary eyes and he held out his hand, palm up, between them. She became more curious than suspicious and looked down at his palm with interest. "Now, pet, I know you haven't been given the best experience involving seiðr, but you should know that it's more than just destructive and hurtful. In fact, it can be. . . quite beautiful."

Her eyes widened with awe at the sight of the tiny fireworks that appeared in mid-air. They were delicate bursts of light, dancing and twirling like miniature galaxies just above his hand. Eleanora's initial caution gave way to wonder as she observed the mesmerizing display. The vibrant colors reflected in her eyes, momentarily lifting the heavy weight that seemed to burden her.

Loki smirked, pleased with her reaction. "Seiðr is an art, pet— a form of magic that transcends the destructive tendencies you have witnessed."

She tore her gaze away from the display to meet Loki's eyes. "But why show me this now? After everything that's happened?"

Loki's smirk softened into a thoughtful expression. "Because, despite our differences, I can sense the pain within you. And sometimes, in the darkest moments, a touch of beauty can provide solace. A reminder that there is more to life than the struggles we face."

He let the fireworks linger a moment longer before letting them dissipate with a subtle wave of his hand. The brig returned to its dimly lit, cold reality, but the atmosphere had shifted. Eleanora regarded Loki with a newfound appreciation. "You're not what I expected," she admitted quietly.

He chuckled, a low and melodic sound. "People rarely are, pet. We're all more than the masks we wear."

There was a brief silence between them, broken only by the distant hum of the ship's engines. Loki continued to hold out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Eleanora tentatively placed her hand in his. The prince's touch was surprisingly gentle as he clasped her hand, the connection sparking a subtle warmth that defied the unwelcoming surroundings. "Sometimes, even gods need a reminder of the beauty that exists in the chaos."

As the night wore on, Eleanora found sleep hard to fight despite her initial prediction. Perhaps it was because all of the events from the last few days had caught up to her. Perhaps it was because Loki's presence was far more comforting than it should have been. Either way, she drifted off not long after, her body relaxing against the god's as she rested her head on his shoulder.

Loki knew that he should have gone back to his place on the opposite side of the brig. Or he should have even moved several inches away to keep space between them. Anything to keep from getting attached to a Star that he had been told time and time again couldn't feel anything, and was just another tool— but he had seen for himself that this wasn't true, and he had never been particularly good at listening to his father, anyway. Besides, the warmth of the Star— of Eleanora— was more preferable to the night spent cold and alone. 

There wasn't anyone besides the pirates on this ship to judge him if he held her hand the whole time, or if he rested his head on top of hers to fall into a light rest, or if he summoned a dagger with his other hand to be prepared should anyone try to harm them during the night. And what did he care of the opinions of pirates?

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning they woke with a start as the captain flung the door of the brig open. Loki was on his feet in seconds with his dagger held out in front of the defensively. Eleanora struggled to get up, her own limbs still heavy with exhaustion. The god stayed firmly between them with his free hand resting protectively against her arm.

"Got out of your restraints, didja?" the captain sneered. "No matter. Get in here, you dogs!"

This last part was bellowed towards the men who were no doubt eavesdropping on the deck. There was a quick stampede of feet before the brig was swarmed with crew members. Loki was disarmed and they were both manhandled roughly— with shouts of protest—back into their previous positions. The rope was tied even more tightly this time— as if that's how they escaped.

The captain dismissed his men and began to stalk around them in a slow circle. "So, this is the part where you tell me who you are and why you're up here, or I'll snap her pretty little fingers one by one like dry twigs!"

"My name is Loki," the god began, about to say his full title before he remembered how the Star had cut him off the night before. Probably better to remain as anonymous as possible. "This is my. . . wife, Eleanora."

"Your wife?" the captain asked mockingly. "Far too young and radiant to belong to just one man! It's share and share alike aboard my vessel, sonny boy!"

Loki could feel the Star tense against him as her breathing became shallow with fear. There was movement where their fingers were inches apart as she searched desperately for his hand, and he turned his wrist to take her hand comfortingly in his. She gave his fingers a hard, terrified squeeze. The protectiveness returned— still a new feeling that he wasn't used to— and he began to draw on his seiðr in the face of the threat.

Although the captain was on Eleanora's side right now so Loki couldn't pin him with a death glare, his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as he warned, "if you dare even touch her, you will find that your worst nightmares are but sweet dreams compared to the torment I will unleash upon you."

The captain laughed. Outside, the crew echoed his mirth as none of the pirates truly feared their prisoner's threat, thinking that they were properly subdued with no hope of escape. The owner of the ship rounded on Loki, taunting, "you may think you're showing a little spirit in front of your lady friend, but if you talk back to me again, I'll feed your tongue to the dogs, you impertinent little pup!"

The god gave him a look full of scorn. "I would not give you enough time to lay your hands on me, but if you could, even my tongue alone is far too valuable to be a canine delicacy."

"Loki," Eleanora groaned, leaning her head against his back in defeat and exasperation. They were so dead. Even if they weren't, his big mouth would only get them— her— into more trouble.

"Best to listen to your lady friend," the captain mocked him. "Show a little respect and I might not make the end of your pitiful lives an extended trip to Hel. Let's see. A hanging's always good for morale. Maybe we'll watch you dance a gallows jig! Or perhaps I'll just tip you over the side and have done with it. It's a very long way down."

Acquiescing to the Star's warning, Loki grit his teeth and made a stab at diplomacy. "Look, I'm just fulfilling my duty to my father—"

"Your father? And who's that? The King of the Nine Realms?"

"Well, yes, actually."

The captain scoffed. The prince found himself at the wrong end of his own dagger as the blade was pressed against his neck. Eleanora's shriek of alarm was the only thing that kept Loki from blasting the man away seiðr— if anything did go wrong and they couldn't escape, she would suffer most for it. "That's one lie too many, my son. Thought you could just wander onto my patch, did you? And live to tell the tale? Big mistake, sir! And the last one you'll ever make!"

✧ ✧ ✧

"No! No! You brute! You murderer! You pig!" Eleanora shouted as the captain dragged her across the ship's deck, kicking and flailing. She was putting on her best acting skills, but it wasn't as hard as she'd feared— the thought of actually losing Loki hurt more than she'd expected.

The crew jeered at her as their leader made his way to his chambers. Grunting at the effort of dragging her, he yelled at his men: "I'm taking the girl to my cabin, and mark my words, anyone who disturbs me for the next few hours will get the same treatment!"

One of the slower mates frowned in confusion as he did a crude gesture with his fingers. "What, you'll. . .?"

"No, you idiot," the captain snapped. "I'll sling you over the side as well!"

"Oh, yeah. Captain's busy. So should you be," he barked at the other pirates.

The captain left his crew behind and shoved Eleanora threw the doors to his quarters. "Get in there, wench!" He released her to shut the doors behind him, and his tone took a one-eighty, becoming welcoming and pleasant. "So, that went well, I thought. Now, tell me news of Asgard. I want to hear absolutely everything."

Loki— who had not been tossed over the side like the captain had threatened— was waiting in the chambers and looking out the window. He turned at their entrance, not bothering to hide his relief at the sight of the blonde. He came over to them and grasped the girl's wrist to draw her closer. "You're alright?"

"Yes," she reassured him, and then gave the captain— who reintroduced himself as Shakespeare— a surprised look. "Hang on, I can't believe your crew fell for that."

"Well, of course. Your god has some very convincing illusions," Shakespeare said with a shrug. Eleanora blushed at the 'your god,' but she didn't protest against it.

"My mother taught me," the prince told him with a note of pride in his voice.

"I do admire a good illusionist," the captain replied. "That's what I'm all about. An ounce of bargaining, a pinch of trickery, a soupçon of intimidation, et voilà! The perfect recipe for a towering reputation without ever having to spill one drop of blood. Ever tried to get blood stains out of a silk shirt? Nightmare."

Loki gave him an appreciative look. "There are not many who would admire such an art."

He chuckled and patted the prince on the arm. "My God of Lies, you are in good company. We can talk more of your tricks later— first we must ensure that my crew does not recognize you."

"Like this?" There was a shimmer of green magic and Loki looked like a different person entirely: he had light brown hair, dark brown eyes, a rounder face and stockier build.

Eleanora stared at him in shock as the captain laughed. "Well met! But if you would prefer to avoid the strain of keeping up such an illusion— as I'm sure you're still learning the breadth of your power— I have a little magic of my own that I can work on you. Your choice, of course, but we've no time to waste. We have only two hours before we make port."

The captain went over what had previously looked like a solid wall of deep brown wooden paneling, but with a turn of the metal bracket, two doors opened. Beyond the façade was a closet full of bright-colored clothes in various styles and sizes. "First and foremost, it'll be so good to see you out of those travelling clothes. So very hoity-toity-princeling. Howlingly parochial. Here." He handed Loki an all-white suit, a tan vest and a jacket with long coattails. "Très you. I wore it as a younger man. I hate to throw anything away. You know the day you do, it'll come back in fashion, be oh, so à la mode."

The offended look on the god's face made the blonde giggle. "This is fine Asgardian leather!"

"Yes, and it's a dead giveaway to your station. A more vicious pirate might've kept you for ransom and demanded a hefty bill from your father. I find it best to travel incognito. Now, you, darling. I have some lovely dresses. Take your pick."

Eleanora shook her head, not wanting to burden the man more than they already had. "Oh, no, really, I'm fine."

"Honey, you're wearing a bathrobe," Shakespeare deadpanned, making her look down at the worn fabric in embarrassment. "Now, Asgard, Asgard. I want to hear everything."

The girl began to look through the different options that the captain offered. Since she'd grown up on a farm, she had never been around so much finery; even her most extravagant dress that she wore on special occasions paled in comparison to the selections in front of her now. Her fingers danced over the myriad of textures and colors, feeling the soft silks and delicate lace beneath her touch. Each dress seemed to tell a different story and Eleanora couldn't help but be drawn to the elegance that surrounded her. She could get used to this.

Behind her, Loki was standing in front of a three-way mirror as he examined the new clothes. "You're not from Asgard."

"Oh, no, sadly, no, but I have been there once or twice. Your father doesn't particularly appreciate flying ships in his realm. As a boy, I'd scurry away from my father at the market while he did his deals and eavesdrop on other sellers to listen for stories of the Nine. Asgard was, of course, a favorite and I dreamed of seeing it for myself. The golden palace, the Bifrost. . ."

The blonde paused at the sight of a particular dress that seemed to speak to her. It was midnight blue with darker velvet on either side of the form-fitting bodice. The sleeves were short, drapey things in a lighter, see-through fabric. The skirt was long and would cover feet, with the left side gathered in pleated ruffles.

As she focused on selecting her dress, Loki magicked himself into the new clothes that Shakespeare had provided. He studied himself critically in the mirror. It wasn't his usual color palette, certainly; there was not a speck of green anywhere on the fabric. He jerked a little as the captain clapped him on the back, then glared at the man hard enough for him to remove his hand.

"Right, next is hair."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hair," the crew leader confirmed.

"Absolutely not," the god retorted firmly. "If I do have to change it, I'll take matters into my own hands, thank you very much."

There was a quick flash of green and Loki's dark hair was suddenly longer, almost reaching past his shoulders. The captain sighed in disappointment. "Alright, if you insist." He held out his hand to Eleanora. "My dear, let me at least put yours up for you."

She agreed, and he sat her down at one of the chairs that surrounded the dining table. His fingers were light and gentle as they tugged the strands of her blonde hair away from her face, taking care when he encountered knots. As he worked, he continued to share his story. "Mind you, I did my best to fit in. Tried to make my father, Captain Ghostmaker, proud. Forged a decent reputation as a ruthless marauder and cold-blooded killer.

"But my father died. I always promised him I'd take over the family business, keep the old girl flying. You have no idea the lightness it brings to my heart being able to confide in you charming young people. The pressure of maintaining the whole Captain Shakespeare persona for the sake of the crew, I don't know. Sometimes. . . you see, I'm very much a man of my own creation. Even chose the name specially. Took me ages. See, I'm thinking legendary British wordsmith, my enemies and crew are thinking 'Shake! Spear!' It's little things like that make me happy."

"I don't understand that," Eleanora admitted as the captain tucked the last pieces of her hair into a low bun at the base of her neck. "Surely it would make you happier just to be yourself. Why fight to be accepted by people you don't actually want to be like?"

She only received a sad sigh in response and a pat on the shoulder. "You're finished, my dear." He glanced over at Loki. "How does she look?"

His gaze was the lightest she'd ever seen it when their eyes met, as green as spring grass. She held his gaze as he stood and came over to them, sweeping her hand up to place a brief kiss on her knuckles. He was still half-bowed, with some of his illusioned long hair falling into his eyes, as he replied in a low voice, "a vision of elegance."

Eleanora blushed and her eyes fell to where his hand was still holding hers.