Her eyes flew open—found his—
“You…” he gasped, his brow knotting, his eyes wide. “You’re…not angry with me?”
“I love you,” Marina cried softly, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Gold flashed through his eyes.
Fire blazed in his hair.
“I love you and I missed you so much,” Marina wept, shaking her head hard. “I can’t do without you. Don’t ever leave me again.”
His mouth crashed into hers.
She melted against him, encircling his neck with her arms, as his kiss overpowered her. He wrapped her in his strong arms and lifted her off the ground.
In desperation, joy pounding through them, they kissed over and over, both of them tasting salt on their lips and tongues, until Marina buried her face in his neck, took fistfuls of his curls and squeezed her eyes shut, silently letting her tears flow.
Then, for several long minutes, neither of them said anything or did anything but hold each other as tight as they could, listening to each other’s heartbeats.
Finally, Loki let her slip back down to the ground, but held her against him and wiped her tears away, all the while laying sweet kisses against her forehead and cheeks.
Then, he pressed his lips to her temple, and she could feel him smile.
“And when I first met you, I thought you didn’t want to be friends,” he muttered.
Marina chuckled. And then, Fenris spoke up.
“Ask her to marry you, you fool.”
Marina’s head came up.
Loki’s smile faded into sudden, breathless vulnerability. His hair remained gold, but his eyes faded from gold to silver. Marina’s fingers closed around the front of his shirt. She felt his hands settle on her hips, as he gazed down into her eyes.
“I don’t…” he managed. “I don’t know what she’ll say.”
“That’s why you ask,” Fenris growled.
Loki swallowed again.
Marina raised her eyebrows, then glanced down for a moment, addressing him as frankly as she could with tears still wet on her face.
“Actually, you’re required to marry me,” she said. “The prince already arranged it.”
Loki blinked.
“What?”
“Mhm,” Marina said. “He told me so himself.”
“Who?” Loki demanded. “Which prince?”
“Bird.”
Loki stopped. His brow knotted again—he looked helplessly at Fenris, then back to her, his eyes filling with tears.
“It worked?” he rasped.
Marina canted her head, and smiled at him.
“Shall we go ask him?”
Loki’s tears fell, and trailed down his cheeks. He said nothing.
“Come on,” she said gently, slipping out of his arms but taking hold of his hands.
She finally turned to see Fenris—who just stood there with his arms folded, smirking, leaning against a tree.
Marina faced Loki. Stepped back from him. And gently tugged on his hands.
He gave way. Took a step forward, then another, fear filling his face…
But she turned around, and pulled him onward, through the woods, back toward her house. She gripped his hand firmly, entwining their fingers, constantly glancing back at him to catch his eye, to memorize him, to make sure he was really, truly there…
Finally, they arrived at the stone archway, completely covered up with vines now.
Loki pulled back on her hand. They stopped, and she faced him.
More tears welled up in his frightened eyes, and he shook his head.
She brought his hand up, and kissed his knuckles.
“Trust me,” she murmured against his fingers.
He squeezed. Then slowly nodded.
She smiled.
Pulled on him. And they slipped through the archway.
Fog swallowed them. Silently, breathlessly, they hurried along the stone bridge. Marina’s heart thundered, thrills shot up and down her arms. They broke into a trot, gripping each other’s hands so tightly…
Light eventually brightened ahead of them, changing from a dull grey to sunshine…
A gust of wind rushed through their hair and clothes. They broke through the fog, and out into full afternoon sun…
Marina slowed down, blinking the dazzle from her vision.
They stepped out onto an earthen road. To their left, looming, white-barked beeches stretched their leafy branches to the dome of the airy, cloud-dotted sky, lining the road like soldiers at march. Off to the right rolled green fields touched at the edges with the gold of the sunset, and interrupted by wandering stone walls. In the distance stood a wooden barn with a prowling dragon decorating its peak. The wind whipped happily through the shorn grain.
“Oh,” Loki gasped, and Marina looked up to see tears coursing freely down his face, sunlight sparkling on his cheeks.
“Come on,” she urged, and together they hurried up the road, their footsteps loud on the gravel.
Birds dipped and swung overhead, chirping and twittering. But then, from the midst, loud squawks joined their singing, and both Marina and Loki looked up…
To see two broad ravens swoop past, watching the pair down below brightly, commenting all the while. Then, they pivoted midair, and flew back the way they had come.
“They’re his,” Loki realized. And not long after the ravens had disappeared from sight, Marina felt a rumbling beneath her feet.
A distant shout went up. Loki stopped, his attention catching on movement on the horizon.
Marina saw them too.
Three riders. One with hair like a lion’s mane. Another with golden locks like the dawn. The other with braided bands of snow. And they bore the banner of the king. They galloped on great bay stallions that ate up the ground before them, tails flying wildly.
Loki squeezed Marina’s hand so tight her bones came together.
In a matter of minutes, in a cloud of dust, the three regal riders had reached them. They slowed their snorting horses, and for an instant, sat poised above the two on foot.
Thor, in blue and gold, with no sleeves—a knotted tattoo showed on his muscular left arm. Odin, in black and gold, his ancient brow furrowed. And in the center: Bauldr, in white—shining like a star, his eyes sky-bright.
Thor swung off his horse. His smile beamed clearer than the day, and at the sight of it, a watery chuckle broke loose from Loki’s chest. He let go of Marina just in time for Thor to wrap him up in a fierce bear hug—one that Loki returned with equal force. Only Marina could see that Thor was crying. For he swiped at his face as he withdrew, and grinned brilliantly, taking hold of Loki’s head and shaking him. Loki laughed again, eyes still sparkling, and turned to see Odin dismount and approach him. Loki’s expression faltered, and he gulped…
But then Odin held out his hand to him.
Loki gazed at it a moment, then grasped it tightly. And Odin brought Loki’s hand to his lips, and kissed it. Loki’s lip trembled, and more tears fell.
Bauldr had not moved.
Slowly, Thor and Odin turned, and regarded the prince still atop the horse. Loki’s breathing picked up, and he lost some of the color in his face. His hair paled, as did his eyes.
Bauldr and Loki’s gazes locked.
Deliberately, Bauldr dismounted his horse, and landed nimbly on the dirt. He stepped up to Loki, and stood for a long moment, not stirring.
Loki reached up carefully, and took the quiver of arrows off his shoulders. Gripping it in both hands, he held it out to Bird.
Bird looked at it. Took it from Loki. The arrows rattled quietly.
He held it there, running one palm down across the delicate feathers.
Then, he dropped it.
It struck the ground with a loud clatter—
And he wrapped his arms around Loki, and closed his eyes.
Loki let out a sob, and crushed Bird to him.
Marina giggled like a kid and wiped her own tears away. Thor stepped close to th
em, leaned his head in and pressed his forehead to theirs. Odin also laid his hands on Bird and Loki’s hair, beaming.
Bird finally released Loki, only to take his head in his hands and give him an earnest, solemn look…
One that slowly, enchantingly, broke into a delighted smile, as soft and affectionate as the dawn.
And Loki’s hair turned the color of wheat as he returned the smile.
The next moment, Thor caught sight of Marina—and he bounded around the group to embrace her. He nearly smashed her, but she didn’t care. Laughing, he hauled her over to the rest of them. Odin graciously took her hand, Bird cried her name and happily bent in to kiss her on the cheek, leaving a scent of cloves hovering all around her.
And then, she felt an arm wind around her waist, and pull her into a warm, familiar chest. Loki bent, and pressed his cheek against her neck, bound his arms around her…
And let out a great, powerful sigh that washed through her whole frame. She closed her eyes, curled her arms against her, and let him hold her.
At long last, he lifted his head. The sunlight caught his blond locks, the winds of Asgard played through his clothes, and his eyes turned a purer gold than she had ever seen. He reached up, and barely touched her chin with his fingertips.
“I love you,” he said. “Will you be my wife?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
He gazed at her lips, then closed the distance and kissed her—and the scent of sweet summer grass mingled deliciously with peppermint again.
“Loki!” Bird called. Their mouths parted, and they turned to see the other three standing by their horses. Bird, grinning, waved to him.
“Come home with us!”
Loki’s brow twisted again as he gazed at his friend—and he nodded firmly.
“I’m coming,” he choked, then smiled beautifully. He looked down at Marina. “You?”
She just smiled, biting her lip, and tugged on him again.
He watched her wryly, and laughed, then grabbed her hand and spurred her into a run. The two of them caught up to the men of the house of Odin, and together they followed the evening road back toward the mead hall of Bilskirnir, singing all the way.
THE END
OTHER BOOKS BY ALYDIA RACKHAM
The Beowulf Seeker
The Riddle Walker
The Last Constantin
The Campbell River
The Paradox Initiative
Lady Rackham
Christmas Parcel: Sequel to Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Torn Page
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Scarlet Gown
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the River Thames
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Irish Gamble
The Mute of Pendywick Place and the Ghost of Robin Hood’s Bay
Christmas at Pendywick Place
Dear David: The Private Diary of Basil Atticus Collingwood
Scales: A Fresh Telling of Beauty and the Beast
Glass: Retelling the Snow Queen
TIDE: Retelling the Little Mermaid
Bauldr’s Tears: A Retelling of Loki’s Fate
Alydia Rackham’s Fairytales
Amatus
Linnet and the Prince
The Web of Tenebrae
The Rooks of Misselthwaite Book I
The Oxford Street Detectives
The Last Scene
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Camelot stifles under the tyrannical thumb of Mordred, and the entire land has been swallowed in shadow. Now, a ragtag band of knights and peasants must attempt to seize the castle and retake the sword of the true king, led only by an obscure young man who pulled a sword out of a stone, and a wizard who has been sleeping in the depths of the earth for three hundred years.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alydia Rackham graduated from McPherson College with a bachelor's degree in English. She has published 75 fanfiction stories and 27 original novels.
In addition, she is a singer (winning superior ratings at state competitions in both high school and college), an artist, an avid traveler, and has performed in 21 theatrical productions, 6 short films and one feature-length film to date (winning a Jester Award in high school for the role of Mrs. Higgins in My Fair Lady, and a gala award for Best Female Performer in a Musical for her role as Mary Poppins in Salina Community Theatre's Production of Mary Poppins.)
She wrote the screenplay for the feature-film Inkfinger, which was featured in four film festivals, including the Hollywood Dreamz International Film Festival and Writers Celebration in Las Vegas, Nevada, where it was nominated for Best Cinematography. It also won the Award of Merit at the IndieFest Film Awards in La Jolla, California.
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