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❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ꒱


❝ FOR YOU I'D BE WILLING TO
DO MANY THINGS AGAINST MY
USUAL INCLINATIONS ❞

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The ship docked just off of a steep cliff. Eleanora, now fully made over, joined the captain on the deck as he explained the purpose of his father's business (besides just piracy.) Loki had been confused as to why they would trap lightning ("my brother controls it, you know. Is that what you mean?") to which Shakespeare had smiled at him in amusement. ("What I wouldn't give to capture that lightning. I bet I could sell it for more than just two hundred coins.")

But, since the captain didn't have access to Thor's lightning, he had the crew carry what he had captured into a run-down warehouse. There were all sorts of things hanging from the ceiling and walls, from nets to stuffed taxidermies of animals. The scruffy man who owned the trading post, Ferdy, watched them transport the crates with dark, greedy eyes.

He opened one cannister experimentally. "Yeah. Doesn't seem very fresh. I'll be honest."

The captain stood with his arms folded and an unimpressed look on his face. "Shall I give you a little taste, young Ferdinand?"

Despite the man's protests, Shakespeare opened a smaller container to release some of the lightning that was inside. It crackled around the cluttered room, singing the hairs on Eleanora's arms from its potency. One of the bolts hit an item that had been dangling above them and it crashed to the ground, causing Ferdy to grumble, "oh, there you go. Brilliant. Like they're cheap."

Shakespeare smirked at him. "I think it's still crackling, very much alive, still très fresh. So, name your best price."

"For ten thousand bolts?"

"Ten thousand bolts of finest quality grade A."

"Yeah," the trader drawled, "but it's difficult to shift, isn't it? Difficult to store. If I get the Revenue men in here sniffing round, what's the. . . Best price, 150."

The captain gave him a pitying look as he clapped his hands together. "Gentlemen, put the merchandise back onboard and prepare to sail."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ferdy objected.

"Ferdinand, always a pleasure," Shakespeare said, unmoved. The crew around him began to pick up the crates.

"Hold on. Hold on. One minute. Hold on. One sixty. One sixty."

The captain waved a hand for the other pirates to stay in place. "Seeing as I'm feeling particularly generous today, I'll settle for two hundred."

Ferdinand scoffed at the price. "Two hundred? Okay. You're having a laugh. Have you had your head in that? Has he been sailing up where the air's too thin?"

Shakespeare frowned at him. "You're being very rude."

The trader sobered and adjusted his vest. "Not anymore," he promised.

"Two hundred."

"One eighty."

"Two hundred."

Ferdy huffed in frustration. "That's not negotiation. I'm changing my number."

"Did I hear two hundred?" the captain insisted.

"From you, you did. Yeah."

"You said two hundred."

"If I did, you're a ventriloquist. Okay, one-nine-five. Final offer."

Shakespeare offered his hand to seal the deal. "One-nine-five it is. So, with sales tax, that's, let's see, two hundred."

"Brilliant. Put it in the back. Unbelievable. Here. . ." Ferdy pulled the captain aside to speak with him privately, only for Eleanora to follow them. He pinned her with a 'why are you here?' look. "Yes? Can I help you?" She shook her head and gave them some space. He scoffed. "Nosy. Have you heard any of these rumors going round about a fallen Star? Everyone's talking about Odin's declaration. Apparently it's the most wanted commodity in all the Nine right now. You get your hands on one of them, we can shut up shop. Retire."

"Fallen Star?" Shakespeare glanced back at the blonde, who was looking around the trading post aimlessly.

"Yeah. Nothing on your travels?"

"No," the captain answered definitively.

Ferdy gave him a sidelong glance. "Not even a little sniff of a whisper? Everyone's going on about it down at the market."

"Which market?"

He shrugged. "All the markets. Stormhold especially, though. Rumor has it that some of Odin's men were sighted there not long ago."

"Well, Ferdy, you're wasting your time listening to gossip. It's not like you'd be able to get past Odin's men anyway."

"Yeah, but you could."

The captain pursed his lips. "I have better things to do than chase ghosts. I've got lightning to catch."

A man with dark hair and a serious expression all but materialized out of the shadowy recesses of the shop, causing the trader to jump. His eyes were so dark that they seemed entirely black, which only lent itself to his somber air. "I would not normally be seen in such an ignominious. . ." He looked around, his lips curling in a faint sneer. "You call this a business? No matter; I am Hogun the Grim, and my quest has brought me, unfortunately, into your path. I seek the Star for King Odin the Allfather, and I am told you are someone who trades in information. I admit this with great reluctance, but I should like to conduct business."

"Well there's a man who lives up to his byname," Ferdy mumbled to the captain.

Shakespeare clapped the trader on the back as sarcastically as possible. "You have business to attend to. Mr. Grim. Ferdy. Good day."

✧ ✧ ✧

The captain ushered them out quickly after that, keeping a gentle, guiding hand on the small of Eleanora's back. She'd heard what the man— Hogun— had said and had been filled with fear that they'd turn her over. For some reason, Shakespeare had kept her secret, even with the potential threat of facing Odin's wrath, should the Allfather find out. She didn't get a chance to ask him why, though, since they were surrounded by his men.

When they returned to the ship, she was filled with relief at the sight of Loki lounging on a stack of crates in the middle of the deck, looking for all the world like he owned the place. As much as she wanted to rush to him, she stayed next to the captain's side as the other men drew their swords. The god remained indifferent as he held what was surely an illusioned pipe in his hand.

"Captain Shakespeare."

"Stand down! Meet my nephew, the fearsome buccaneer Tristan Thorn." They had elected to give Loki a fake name, at least for the other pirates, as 'Loki of Asgard' was a dead giveaway to who he was. "He'll be joining us for our journey home."

He addressed the god, who stood and waved the pipe away. The captain gently shoved Eleanora towards him. "I have the perfect gift to keep you amused on the way."

Loki steadied the girl as she stumbled against him, his am securing around her waist. Eleanora instinctively placed her hands against his chest to keep herself from falling into him, though when she looked up, the position made heat flood her cheeks at how close that made their faces. There was mischief sparking in his blue-green eyes that made her heart skip a beat and if it hadn't been for the cheering of the other pirates, she might have kissed him.

✧ ✧ ✧

As the days passed, it was obvious that Loki's experience in Asgard's courts were helping him win over the rest of the crew. Eleanora was quieter as she hadn't had the chance to interact with many people. She was still a little wary of the other pirates, but they'd been surprisingly respectful of her person. The most exciting events took place during the day where the god had taken to practicing throwing daggers at the crew members who annoyed him the most. This was always met with laughs and calls of 'incoming!' until Shakespeare had challenged him to an informal duel.

She had watched their blades flash in the air with wide, awed eyes at the obvious skill both men displayed. She especially liked the way Loki would roll up the sleeves on his white shirt while he fought, his graceful, cat-like lunges showing off his long legs. One time he had even discarded his shirt entirely, leaving her blushing furiously for the rest of the day at the thought of the sweat that had clung to his skin.

Eleanora wasn't a fool— gullible and innocent, yes, but not stupid— and she knew better than to catch feelings for Asgard's prince, but that was exactly what she was doing. She knew it was only a matter of time before he betrayed her again, or Odin would tear them apart. There wasn't a way that she could see where their story ended happily. It would have been best to keep her distance to lessen the heartbreak upon their inevitable departure, but there was some kind of magnetic force around Loki that kept drawing her in.

Her fight against her feelings was weak and half-hearted at best, but it was easier to let herself fall when there was no way Loki would ever feel the same about her. To him, she was just a prize— as much as that hurt— and a token of affection for his father. So, so what if she stared at him a little longer than exactly what platonic friends would suggest? So what if she dreamed about kissing him and wished that she had when she'd thought about it their first day on the ship? There was no harm in that.

Imagining came easiest when the soft notes of a piano wove through the air in a romantic melody, inspiring images of the two of them dancing together on the clouds— as silly and childish as it was. She wandered into the captain's quarters to find the god himself playing the instrument, and she leaned against the doorframe to watch him in wonder. Seeming to sense her presence, he looked up after the song was done and slid to one side of the bench, gesturing for her to join him. "Come sit, pet."

She frowned at the nickname, wishing he would just call her Eleanora, if nothing else— though of course, she did as he requested. "I don't know how to play."

"You grew up with Light Elves and you didn't get a chance to learn their instruments?"

"Music is for royals," the blonde told him patiently. "I grew up on a farm in a three-room house. We don't— didn't— have the money for this kind of luxury."

"Music is for everyone," Loki corrected her. "Surely you sang, at least?"

A wistful smile appeared on Eleanora's face. "Oh, yes. I sang with my sisters every night while I was a Star— I mean, an actual one. Do you sing?"

"Only against my will," he said, earning an amused smile from the girl. "What did you sing as a Star?"

She sighed, her shoulders slumping a little as she shook her head. "I don't remember anymore. I can still hear them, so that's better than nothing, but there's something about this form that keeps me from knowing the old songs. I do miss it, though."

There was the desolation and great sadness in her voice again, as if living was sometimes too heavy a burden for her to carry. His expression softened as his heart tugged in sympathy for the girl. "You can learn new songs," he pointed out gently. "I'll teach you."

"I thought you didn't like to sing?" Her voice lifted up at the end, turning her statement into a question.

Loki leaned in closer, his eyes shifting to a blue that rivaled the sky outside. "Ah, pet, for you, I'd be willing to do many things against my usual inclinations."

Not for the first time that day, Eleanora felt heat rush to her face and she had to look away for fear of doing (or saying) something stupid. He smirked, as if he knew exactly what reaction his words stirred. Acting as if he hadn't seen the pink tinge to her cheeks, he turned back to the piano and placed his fingers over the keys— such long, nimble fingers, too, she thought appreciatively. She had no other time to think of anything else, though, as that was when Loki opened his mouth and began to sing, his voice deep and rich in a way that captivated her like nothing else ever had.

"Jag ska simma och segla på vilda hav
Med aldrig en rädsla för att drunkna
Och rider gärna på livets vågor
Om du vill gifta dig med mig
Ingen stekande sol eller isande kyla
Kommer att stoppa mig på min resa
Om du lovar mig ditt hjärta. . ."

✧ ✧ ✧

What Eleanora didn't know was that her feelings weren't exactly unrequited. Loki knew that he was more fond of the Star than what was probably smart but, while he had had past relationships (Sif being the first of many failures coming to mind), they had all been brief, shallow things that had been more infatuation than anything else. These. . . feelings he had for the girl, they were something else entirely. They were deeper and stronger than anything he'd felt in the past, which made him question if they were even real, since he'd only known her for a few days. But then again, he had never clicked with anyone exactly like he had with the Star, who was slowly becoming not just a Star, not just a pet, but Eleanora.

And maybe his dagger-throwing habits had been a way for him to show off whenever she was watching him— something he knew she did often. Maybe they were aimed specifically at crew members who stared at Eleanora a little too long in the wrong way. (And maybe he'd taken his shirt off that one day just to see the pretty pink flush to her face to make sure that she would be thinking about him for the rest of the afternoon.) Still, he tried not to think about her too much— but that didn't stop him from looking for her in every room he entered, or feeling disappointed when she wasn't there.

Although he wouldn't admit it, his favorite time of the day was when she stayed up late and stood on the deck with her head tilted up towards the stars. He wondered if she was thinking of home— not Alfheim, but the sky— or what she even considered 'home' was. Loki would stand next to her in a comfortable silence with his own eyes trained on the blonde rather than the scenery around them. On their third night, he finally broached the subject of her origins.

"Do you remember why you fell from the heavens?" Loki asked. He wasn't sure what answer he was expecting, but he was a little surprised when she nodded.

"All Stars know what their reason for existing is. It's why they're needed in the Nine Realms in the first place; they have their own glorious purpose to fulfill."

"Glorious purpose?" the god echoed, trying the words out experimentally. He liked the way they sounded— something certain and concrete that brought order to chaos.

Eleanora nodded. "Yes. Someone else might call it fate, or destiny."

He leaned towards her, his eyes turning a shade darker, closest to emerald that she'd ever seen them. "And, as you're a Star, what, pray tell, is your glorious purpose?"

"You," the blonde replied simply.

"Me?" Loki repeated, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. "Why?"

She shrugged. "Stars are supposed to provide light and hope to those in their darkest times. They exist only to help others achieve the best version of themselves."

"That's depressing," the prince commented dryly. "For me and for you. Have you got any idea when these 'darkest times' might happen so I can keep an eye out for them?"

"Unfortunately I'm not a Seer," the blonde said with a faint smile. "Though if I was, I'd certainly tell you."

Loki could see that she was telling the truth from the open honesty in her face. Her eyes didn't waver from his as she spoke, the emotions on her face were of genuine earnestness— which only made him even more confused. "Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why are you so willing to help me when all I've done is cause trouble for you? I stole you away from your home, alerted people who want to murder you and at the end of all this, my father is just going to make you a tool for his army. You'd help me avoid a worse fate and haven't asked anything in return."

Eleanora's expression softened and she shrugged. "Maybe I'm just too altruistic for my own good. I mean, you never lied to me about what your intentions were, unlike the witches and the pirates. Even if I didn't particularly like them, I'm not expecting anything to change by asking you for a favor. I'd rather do my best to be a nice person and go with dignity than scrape and claw my way to the end, you know?"

The god didn't reply for a moment as he stared at the girl with newfound respect. In that moment, he saw Eleanora not just as a pawn in his schemes, but as a person with principles, someone who faced the chaos he unleashed with a steadfast grace. He had always prided himself on being a master of deception, manipulating others to suit his needs. Yet here was this Star, seeing through his tricks and still choosing to stand by him. As he looked into her eyes, he couldn't deny the connection that had formed between them. The realization hit him with a force that left him breathless—he cared about her, more than he had ever anticipated.

✧ ✧ ✧

The next day it rained, so Eleanora spent most of it inside. Loki— perhaps as an act of rebellion towards his brother— stayed on deck and helped the crew capture a bolt of lightning just for the experience. He came into the captain's chambers soaking wet, his dark curls plastered to his face as he dripped puddles all over the wood floor. At his entrance, she turned to him, amused.

"I thought you could keep yourself dry."

"Oh, I can," he assured her. His voice was brighter than she'd ever heard, full of exhilaration. The flash of magic dried him thoroughly, even eliminating the puddles he'd created. The mischief in his eyes still remained, though. "Sometimes it's more fun to just to experience it as it happens."

"If you say so," she said. "I'll stay inside, thanks."

He came over to her and followed her gaze to see what she was looking at. "Books, pet? Find anything interesting?"

"I don't know," Eleanora answered with a wistful sigh.

"Picky reader, are you? What were you looking for?"

"I don't know," the girl repeated, and the god turned to her to better take in her response. "I can't read." She flushed. "I mean, I can, but only Alfheim letters. It's only All-speak, after all, not all-read. I'm rambling. Sorry."

Loki's eyes softened with fondness. He gently caught her chin with his fingers and turned her head so she could meet his eyes. "You don't have to apologize, pet. I'll teach you Asgardian after the Centennial Ball, but I can read to you for now, if you'd like."

Although she certainly had no protest to his offer, she still frowned at one thing— "can you not call me that?"

"Call you what?"

He seemed truly confused by her question, which she hadn't expected. She'd thought he would immediately balk at her request. "Pet. I. . . it's demeaning."

"What would you have me call you instead?"

She gave him a bemused look. "Just my name is fine."

Eleanora thought that she might've seen disappointment flash across his face, but she couldn't be sure. It was gone too quickly to tell and was replaced by an enigmatic smile, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Of course. If I ever do call you 'pet' again, then some other being has taken over my body and soul. I swear this to you."

The blonde was giggling by the end of his grand declaration, which had been exactly his goal. "Oh, come off it. You call me whatever you want, just not 'pet.'"

"As you wish, Eleanora," Loki agreed. He studied the bookshelf as that subject came to a close. "What sort of books do you usually read?"

"Adventure, fantasy, romance," she listed easily, ticking them off on her fingers.

He nodded and selected a book that would fit those categories. Then he offered her his hand, which she took with another rush of heat on her face. He led her over to the window seat where he pulled her down next to him. Eleanora allowed the god to position her how he liked, which was, apparently, curled up against his side. Loki's arm was draped around her shoulders and she tentatively rested her head against his chest. When he didn't protest, she relaxed against him and closed her eyes as he began to read, feeling more at peace than she'd ever felt in her life. The rain lashed at the windows, but was warm and dry inside, and the prince's voice was a low, steady timbre against her ear.

✧ ✧ ✧

The last night they were with the pirates was bittersweet, but they were rapidly approaching the gap between worlds— the right one that would get them to Asgard— which was as far as Captain Shakespeare would take them. It was a clear evening and all of the stars shone in the sky, like diamonds against black velvet. The air was cool and crisp, but still comfortable enough to not need too many layers.

One of the crew mates was turning the wheel on a music box— a device that amplified the song so it could be heard from all corners of the deck. Eleanora was dancing with Shakespeare, who was giving her a lesson on how to waltz. It was one of those times where she was content to be exactly where she was— something, she noticed, that was happening more often (and with a particular god, though she told herself that was just a coincidence.)

Unbeknownst to her— as it was hard to tell unless she was looking in a mirror— there was a silvery halo around her head as they turned on the makeshift dance floor. She literally glowed with happiness as she smiled at the captain, the shine of her starlight standing out against the night.

"Eleanora, I know what you are." Immediately, the glow vanished as a look of horror overtook her features. The last time someone had known what she was. . . The captain hastily reassured her, "no, no. Have no fear. No one on this vessel will harm you, but there are plenty who would. Your emotions give you away, Eleanora. You must learn to control them. You've been glowing more brightly every day, and I think you know why."

"Of course I know why I'm glowing," she replied. "I'm a Star. And what do Stars do best?"

"Well, certainly not the waltz," he said with a chuckle.

The captain turned at a tap on his shoulder. "May I cut in?"

"Certainly," he allowed, stepping back so Loki could take his place.

Almost instantly, the glow around Eleanora's head returned as they danced closely together. Loki held her delicately, matching her every step with effortless grace (she knew she stepped on his toes an embarrassing amount of times, but he was gracious enough not to mention it.) She was left breathless by the end of it and when they stopped turning, the god passed a cautious hand through the light around her head.

"You're glowing," he commented, almost awed by the sight. "I've noticed it before, when I was teaching you piano and when we read together yesterday, but I don't think I've ever seen it this bright."

The Star blushed and ducked her head. "Does it look bad?"

"I didn't say that, now did, p— Eleanora," he corrected himself. "It simply makes you appear even more radiant than you already are."

"Oh," was all she could say in bashful response.

A/n: I know the timeline with pianos doesn't exactly match up since the first one was invented in the 1700s, which is after this act takes place, but a) this is fanfiction and it doesn't have to be historically accurate and b) things/ideas are known to pass between worlds, so my explanation is that the piano started out on Alfheim but was transferred as an idea to Midgard— same with the music box. I'm just not creative enough to make up my own instruments lol.