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

**********

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."

*********

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.

*********

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?"

**********

"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...

From a Companion

If you could sweep me away, 

I would never hesitate.

There's so much routine to run from.

I dream of you between these repeating grey days.

My enthusiasm for life has died.

Resurrect it with your child's perspective.

Show me the magic of this world

that I have become too numb to see.

I am just a shell of what I used to feel.

Memories no longer sting, warm, or entice.

Day in day out, repeating grey days.

But you will never come, will you?

*********

External, pessimistic, and a little fatalist, perhaps, but a good representation of how some of the Doctor's companions (or probable companions) might feel. They always rely on the Doctor for everything at first. Everything becomes his fault, and he is expected to fix everything. And the Doctor puts up with it, to an extent, because he challenges himself to be useful and important. He wants to be needed since he's destroyed so much in his life.

Strength

I have so much more of myself lying beneath my skin. Below my flesh lies a strength that has slept for eons. This strength is so much more than I can currently imagine--I'm not ready. For now it rests, awaiting a summon from a wiser version of myself.

I have not needed to summon its aid in so long. There has been a reign of peace for ages.
I fear the time to make the call may be nearing.

A Disturbing Dream

This morning I woke up feeling disconcerted.

I had a dream early this morning. I went to the store to buy a fish for dinner. The fish I chose happened to be one that I was supposed to keep alive in a tank until I was ready to cook it. Ok, deal. Well, the fish kept hopping out of the tank onto the floor. What a difficult fish. And this fish wasn't just any old dinner-sized fish, it was as large as a basketball, so it wasn't easy to heft it back into its tank each time it jumped out. Well, one of the times it jumped out, I couldn't get to it quickly so it was out of its tank for a long time.

It changed into a child and began to play.

Now, this being a dream, I didn't think it was anything too out of the ordinary. So I tossed it back in the tank, and it turned back into a fish. This seemed perfectly logical to do in my dream, and hey, it worked. Now if this wasn't odd enough, I proceeded to bake the fish. (WHAT THE FFFFF! I BAKED THE FISH PERSON!) I didn't actually eat the fish, though, because once it was done, I remembered that it had been different, so I decided to notify the company about it. (A little late for that!)

As I made my way to court regarding the fish person situation, the dream started to morph into something Harry Potter-related. Harry and Luna joined me as I was walking to the courtroom, and we were being escorted by policemen. We convinced Luna that she needed to slip away and tell the world about the fish people so others would be able to free them.

Once the rest of us made it to the courtroom, someone was already giving testimony regarding the fish people. A fish person was even present in the courtroom--a 30 year old fish person. "And I killed a fish child. What the hell is wrong with me," I finially thought in my dream. It only took me the whole damn dream to realize it.

Then I woke up never wanting to eat fish again.

*********

As near as I can figure, the dream was trying to tell me that I'm killing something wonderful that's trying to change and grow by doing what I think I'm supposed to do with it. And it's not phasing me. I'm going through the motions. I'm tossing it back in the tank then frying it up because that's what you do with a fish. The fish is my life. It's showing me what I'm doing to myself. Part of me has been trying to change and grow, but the rest of me keeps pushing it back into what I think I'm supposed to be doing. Stay at your job because it's secure; why bother changing when you already have a routine; don't take risks, you have a family to care for; don't sacrifice the little time you have to yourself; your hobbies are enough to explore yourself; everyone has a job. 

What disturbed me the most was my attitude during the dream. I know it was just a dream, but I BAKED A FISH THAT I KNEW WAS REALLY A PERSON, AND I DIDN'T CARE. I didn't care, I checked out of reality, I wasn't engaged, I didn't take action. I need to wake the hell up.

Yesterday I was talking with someone in an INFJ community who happened to be a non-conforming Crisis-Intervention Counselor--meaning she meets with clients outside of clinics at their homes, at coffee shops, etc. I've been contemplating the life coach/counselor road for a while, but I've been hesitant to go back to school for any type of counseling degree. I don't really want to be a counselor. I don't want to work with others who need therapy or drugs. I want to work with others who are a lot like how I was a few years ago when I knew I was ready to lose weight and get healthy--just going through the motions, but wanting to change something, and not knowing how. I managed to do it with the support of my few close friends and an online community, but some people aren't so resourceful.

I want to help others do whatever needs doing to get onto the track they want to be on. I guess that really does define the role of a life coach, now that I think about it. I just don't see myself as a "business professional" life coach, which is what I see all over the place when I try to research life coaching. I can't help clients who are trying to get into Fortune 500 companies in pressed suits because I know nothing of that kind of life. But I can help busy parents devise meal plans or guide their understanding of the emerging personality types in their children. Or I can help someone going through their mid-life crisis figure out what they really want out of life. I can help others through their transitions from one part of their life to another. I can help someone on the road to a better self-image while they get healthy and gain self-confidence. Most people don't need clinical therapy, just someone to lean on. Someone to listen. Someone to offer advice when its needed. Someone to push when you need pushing or to hold you when you don't want to fall. In an age of instant messaging, cell phones, and constant connection, many of us are more alone than ever. And we don't know what to do because no one's listening.

All the skills I enjoy have been leading up to this: eating healthy, cooking, exercising, organizing, personality typing, problem solving, learning on my own (autodidacticism), the way I gravitate to balance out others, and the ability I have to walk in their shoes. I can't stay here at this job forever. I'm not growing anymore. And I can't see myself holding some other dead-end job. I'm not going to up and quit since that would be foolish, but I need to take action at pursuing something that I feel good about. I need to actually apply some of the strategies I keep reading over and over again. I need to contact people who have done this before. I need their advice and guidance so I can apply it to my own situation. I need to get off the sidelines.

But I'm so scared of failure. Logically I know that staying inert is a thousand times worse than whatever minor failure I could encounter, but that doesn't stop my ego imp from making me feel scared to try anything: What makes you think you could give others good advice? You aren't smart enough to help others. You can't help them. Self-employment? That's a lot of work that you're too lazy to do. You'll give up--you have before.

Sorry this turned into a rant. I guess I needed to get some of this out of myself. It's not the first time. 

Strange Dreams

They warn women that rising anxiety and hormonal shifts during late third trimester can cause strange dreams. Mine have been relatively normal except for last night.

I was living in a small ranch house by myself. A gruff, evil man I did not know broke into my house and held me hostage there. I couldn't leave. I couldn't call for help. I couldn't overpower or outsmart him. He didn't physically abuse me, but I remember feeling oppressed. I felt myself succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome. I found myself feeling attracted to him even though I knew he had a different agenda. At one point my parents came to the house, and I let them in. They took some shopping bags into a back room, and I tried to tell them to call 911, but nothing would come out of my mouth. Later once my mom realized he was there, I told her, "We have to leave. We have to get out." She looked at me with tears in her eyes, "We'll die." At that point, I woke up.

I whined. I didn't feel upset to the point of tears, but I felt terrible that I couldn't figure out what to do. I was disappointed. Thankfully Travis must have sensed that and was really comforting even before I could mention that I had a bad dream. I still feel disappointed in myself. I took no actions and stagnated rather than make a move.

Several synchronicities keep coming up lately: honesty, truth, faith. What decisions am I being urged towards?

It's Time

to look through a different lens.
to break some rules.
to rebuild my reality.
to live by intuition.
to love everything and everyone.
to trust the universe.