Surrender, Chapter 1: Into Fae Dreams

This week I've been writing in my free time, and apparently it was a desperate need. In three days I've written maybe a third of a growing story revolving around Loki. It began as a one-off encounter between Loki and a Fae of Alfheim. I was exploring Loki's reactions to a forced surrender of his will--a reaction to living in the moment, to freedom. A few small streams became a river, and now I'm several chapters into the progression of Loki's situation.

As I haven't written anything of this length and scope in some time, I wanted to get it out of my private journal and into somewhere public, however obscure. Not for feedback, but for closure; else I might continually edit it until it loses its spark. Let's not do that...

EDIT: This story may also be read on Fanfiction.net.

Surrender

Foreword

I've been dreaming of Loki. And not just night dreams—daydreams as well. I always ache to see love crack the fierce, evil exterior that villains put up. Loki's core is filled with jealousy and a thirst for recognition, for love. But he is absolutely unwilling to surrender to it. He fights it because he must control it. It is the only foundation, however unsteady, that he has to hold on to. He has built his precarious world of lies upon it. But what if he were made to surrender? What if he were shown love and freedom, just a fleeting glance? Would he miss it when it's gone?



Chapter 1: Into Fae Dreams

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Mirella gazed at her reflection in the small pool of her private garden. She ran her hands over the soft features of her pale, fairy-like face and drew her long, chestnut-colored hair over one shoulder. The gentle sounds of undisturbed nature floated through the air--birds chirped, squirrels foraged below the fallen leaves, the wind played lightly through the branches surrounding the grove, and somewhere in the distance the flow of a small stream underlined it all.

There was a rustling of something unnatural behind her near the garden's entry. A pair of boots? In my garden? She stood calmly. All of her motions contained the slow grace of a lounging cat. She turned to face her intruder, and a smile quirked her pink lips. A slim, black-haired man stood just inside the short, wild hedge that marked the garden's entry to the rest of the surrounding forest. Her garden could easily blend into the woods beyond, but the garden would be overlooked by any who were susceptible to Fae glamour--especially men. Why is this man here?

Her visitor was at least 18 inches taller than she was, but of average height for a man. His black hair fell to his shoulders and brushed the top of his forest-green cloak. He wore the garb of nobility, she recognized, even though none such designation existed in her own realm. She was familiar with the realms of men, as well as other realms where man-like beings dwelt. She had a genuine fondness for men unlike some of her peers who used all creatures for their own amusement. Men were different. Some men contained a will as strong as a wild stag. She held a certain respect for that.

She walked toward the intruder fluidly. She was clothed in faintly transparent gossamer fabric not unlike spiderwebs. It had a pinkish tint and billowed behind her gently as she moved. The tail of it trailed through the grass soundlessly. Dew drops scattered throughout the fabric shone like gems as they caught the the morning sun's light. Her movement barely made any sound. She was as much a part of the garden as it was of her--just another wild flower.

She stopped a few feet short of the man, and inclined her head slightly with an air of curiosity to look into his eyes. "Who are you that would enter my garden?" Her voice was as delicate and graceful as her stature, but a thin current of confidence and even mischief was detectable to her sensitive ears.

The man had an almost expressionless face, but Mirella could sense that he was picking his words carefully before he spoke. Perhaps he was having trouble even grasping at words; Fae had that effect on other creatures. The intruder knelt on one knee, and looked up slightly to meet Mirella's eyes. "I have come for your aid, if you would grant it."

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With an effort seldom needed, Loki ignored the Fae's glamour and stepped into the hedged area roughly 20 paces across. The garden's owner stood as he entered, and proceeded to approach him as naturally as ripples in a lake. Her beauty upon any other creature might have swayed his senses momentarily, but she was a Fae. I mustn't let her glamour affect me. Coming here had been very far from the top of his list, and dangerous at that, but he had little choice given his situation. The Fae realm, Alfheim, was one of the few places he could enter with little fear of word getting back to Asgard that he'd been away. The Fae kept to themselves unless someone was stupid enough to become trapped by their charms. I must stay focused.

The Fae was quite short and petite, but he knew better than to underestimate her abilities based on her appearances. I must be on my guard. She stopped a long pace from him and asked coolly, "Who are you that would enter my garden?" Her voice danced in his ears like the melody of a song bird. He struggled to keep his attention on his mission. Even his natural resistance to magic wasn't much help when it came to this. Fae glamour was powerful.  I must stay in control.

He put on his best game face and knelt before her. She must believe that I will submit to her, but I cannot falter. "I have come for your aid." He looked into her pale green eyes and for a moment a vision of new spring leaves disturbed by a light breeze wafted across his thoughts dreamily. He pushed it away. No. He quickly lowered his eyes to study the dead brown leaves on the ground in front of him, "If you would grant it." He hoped his demeanor appeared sturdier than he felt.

She looked at him a long moment and amusement touched her smile, "Oh, but you are a long way from your own realm. Come. Sit with me and discuss your wishes." She motioned with a slender arm to a nearby fallen tree trunk.

Loki felt the allure of her graceful movements pulling him to dance, but instead he managed to stand slowly. "Thank you, kind fairy." He bowed his head slightly with a tight smile.

He followed her a few paces to the tree trunk. He almost tripped, but covered his misstep by pausing a moment to watch her take a seat first. He tried to avoid her eyes as he sat down a few feet from her, but their sharpness pierced his thoughts with their playful urgings--laugh and dance with me, they sang, there is nothing but the song of the wind. Loki steeled himself against the glamour.

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Mirella sat comfortably upon the fallen trunk, never removing her eyes from the man who had entered her garden and asked for her aid. She beckoned him to sit next to her, but he chose a spot on the far side instead. The newcomer's motions were a clumsy bear's beside hers. He was avoiding her eyes now. Smart man. Smart, but futile, sadly. Men could not resist the natural glamour of Fae for long, if they resisted at all. Most men welcomed the freedom they felt while among the Fae. At least, men believed what they were feeling was freedom. Does a puppet ever look up to see its strings?

"Why has a man such as you come to my garden?" She laid her hands gently upon her lap. Her presence there fit naturally; she could have been a vine overgrowing the log.

"Oh, I am no man, kind fairy," a small grin touched his thin lips. "I am from a higher realm."

She surveyed his clothing again and found a seal upon part of his clothing that she had missed at first notice. She might have been familiar with men, but she was not good with manufactured, unnatural details. "My apologies, Asgardian," she said with a small smile. "It has been long years since one from your realm has walked beneath our canopy. What aid would you seek of me?"

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"I am Loki," He paused a moment awaiting her possible recognition. Many knew him by name if not by his face. "The son of Odin," he then added.

"Ah, the younger son of Odin has come to visit me," her voice sang in his ears again, but the word younger blazed in him like wildfire. I am the son of a king! I will have the power I deserve once I leave this wretched place. He thought the hatred he felt towards his family overshadowed any charm she could have cast upon him, but he kept his face smooth. "I am Mirella, son of Odin."

Loki came back to the center of his thoughts again, to the center of his mission. "I am sorry for intruding upon your garden, Mirella. I have come for knowledge that you may possess. I am in search of a staff." Mirella's eyebrows rose subtly at the mention of a staff. The cat sees a mouse. "A staff rumored to allow who wields it to..." He trailed off as he met her gaze once more, this time without incident. Mirella was distracted by this subject. Let's see if she pounces.

"To charm others with a Fae's glamour," she finished for him in a lower voice that seemed almost a purr. Gotcha. "That, Asgardian," she raised a smooth hand and ran it through the leaves of the nearest tree branch thoughtfully, "is a story unknown to most outside of Alfheim. There is not much to tell of it, but I may share the story if you answer a question for me." Amusement crossed her lips again.

There's no backing out now. I will have this information if I have to strangle it from her. "Ask your question, and I will answer, Mirella."

She arose with her cat's grace and strode a few paces briskly before she paused to look back at him. It was an effort for Loki to meet her green-eyed gaze without standing as well, but he stayed seated. Dance with the wind, he heard in his thoughts.

She leaned down to caress a small flower bud on a wild rosebush. "What is your true heart's desire, Loki, son of Odin?" She looked back to him, his eyes still upon hers, "I will know if you lie to me."

She lies herself. She cannot know my true wishes by watching me. All the same, Loki guarded his subconscious and answered carefully, "To rule Asgard." And all other realms of Yggdrasil. And I will make Thor pay dearly for holding me in his shadow! But he buried those thoughts deep within his mind far away from his current thoughts.

Mirella continued to admire the rosebush for a time, long enough that Loki began to wonder if she'd heard him. But eventually she glided back to the log and sat beside him, close beside him. She reached out towards his face, and he shied away, but she smiled and placed her hand on his cheek. I must play the part this Fae expects.

"Do not be afraid if you speak true, Asgardian." Mirella sounded as if she were enjoying herself, and Loki relaxed at her touch. Be steadfast.

In her hand he felt the warmth of the morning sun, the coolness of a mountain river, the softness of summer grass, and the sturdy heart of an oak tree--all within one touch. He no longer wanted to avoid her eyes and found himself relaxing even more. He began to notice the soft noises of birds and other small animals in her garden and the pure earthy smell of the deep forest surrounding them. He felt compelled to speak again.

"Mirella, I--" No. I will not give in. He instead stated, "that is my desire." I will remain focused.

"I see." She gave no outward hint that she sensed the blanket of lies he locked away within himself. "I will tell you the story you seek. Close your eyes, and I will show you," she closed her eyes and told the story he had come looking for within his mind.

"All Fae of Alfheim are born to respect the will of nature which is the will of the forest god, the will of Freyr. Many ages ago, a Fae named L'Shale coveted Freyr's power for his own. The forest god could not abide his attempt to disrupt the natural balance, so with the sacrifice of one of his devoted Fae, he bound L'Shale in a staff made of willow wood. The staff he is bound in now bears his name. Its precise location is unknown, but the tale says it lies hidden in a grove in the valley of the Great Mountains. While L'Shale was unable to claim the power of the gods, the tale says that any who wield the staff may charm others as a Fae."

She opened her eyes when she finished the story. Her hand lingered at his face a moment, and she frowned with sadness and longing. "Why do you resist the freedom of nature? Do you not see its beauty and hear its song?"

She's told me what I want. Time to go. Loki's stone face betrayed none of his satisfaction. "Your garden is indeed lovely, Mirella, but I must go now. I thank you greatly for the story. It's exactly what I was looking for." He began to stand, but she caught his hand and stood beside him.

"But perhaps, Loki, son of Odin, it is not what you needed. Would you dance with me a while before you depart?" She placed her free hand upon his shoulder, and he felt his steel resolve melt. She cannot do this to me!

Loki found himself unable to resist any longer. One dance could not hurt... The information he'd come for was now locked away and safe, but out of his reach as he again met Mirella's spring green eyes. Some part of him realized that he did not have to look down as far this time. She is...taller now. The forefront of his thoughts shifted to the purples and reds of the flowers in her garden and the natural curve of Mirella's slim waist as he placed his free hand around it. Her dress was as wispy soft as feather down. "Certainly, Mirella."

"Then let us dance to the song of the wind," the melody of her voice spurred him to dance. He began to feel a warmth grow within his heart. Warm spring replaced harsh winter, and he felt himself smile softly as they moved around the small garden lost in their own world. Time stood still.

I cannot stay. A voice in the back of his head tried to persuade him back to reality, but he ignored it--for now. I must leave! Not yet--please, not yet...

Loki closed his eyes as the two of them moved together, leaves riding the wind. The floral scent of Mirella's hair, the sweetness of her laugh, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots, and the tree branches that swept at him as they passed were the only focus in his mind. After an unknown amount of time, a thought floated to the surface that he might slip under the glamour completely if this continued much longer--an urge to wake from a dream. I cannot come back if I fall...I must come back...

Suddenly, Mirella stopped. Loki stopped with her and opened his eyes. He gazed down at her--she was again her normal height--and came somewhat to his senses. He managed a small murmur, "Oh."

Her voice was ice cold and regretful now, "Losing yourself in the moment is a great gift and a most dangerous curse. You are the strongest I have met, Loki, and for that, I cannot hold you. It would be against my nature to make you stay." Her weakness is strength of will. I am her weakness. Any other time he would have filed the useful information away until it was needed as leverage, but instead he chose to gently squeeze her small hand in his. She slid away from his grip reluctantly to become a part of her garden once more. "Farewell, Loki. My garden will always welcome you." She made a natural motion with her hand that could have been a wave or the wind swaying a branch.

Loki began to feel relief that he could leave without further struggle, but his words betrayed the longing that she left inside him, "Thank you, Mirella. I shall remember our...meeting..." How could I forget... He hesitated a moment and watched her retreat towards the small pond at the far side of the garden. A breeze twitched his cloak, but it was just a breeze. The moment was gone. The glamour was gone. The forest was a sea of brown again.

Loki stepped out of Mirella's garden and began his trek to the valley between the Great Mountains. His feet felt much heavier than they had just a few moments ago, and his heart was cold stone in his chest. The world was dim. He drew his blanket of lies tightly around him, but it held no warmth. He willed himself forward toward his goal, but his thoughts drifted to the hedge behind him. Maybe I will see her again...just once...