All Hail The King // Loki - Book 2 ✓

Chapter 38

THE NUMBER OF PEOPLE at Loki's funeral surprises Anna. She expected it to be a relatively small affair, and - truthfully - she thought that she and Thor might be the only two in attendance. However, a good number of Asgardians are standing around her now waiting to send off the fallen Asgardian prince. Without a body, there's much less formality to it - none of the glowing white orbs or a funeral pyre are present to send Loki off to Valhalla. No doubt many in attendance believe he went straight to Hel, and most of them are probably here just to make sure he really is dead.

Even Odin is in attendance, which is somewhat of a shock considering the state of his relationship with his adopted son as of late, but Anna isn't willing to deny him the opportunity to grieve no matter how angry she is with the Allfather.

The ceremony is simple. A small pyre was constructed earlier in the day on the edge of a cliff outside of the city, and the mourners gathered around it to pay their respects to the prince. Each attendee holds a small, simple torch, and - in turn - they are dropped onto the pyre. Loki's golden horned helmet rests atop the burning pyre, an effigy to the man whose body could not be found, and both Anna and Thor find themselves nearing the now-raging fire. They are the last two mourners to lay down their torches, both of their faces marked with silent tears, and Anna watches blindly as Thor goes first.

He mumbles something unintelligible, gripping the torch tightly as if he does not want to admit it - to release the flame and allow the truth of Loki's death to hit him - but he finally gives in. Saying goodbye to his brother, the playmate of his youth, Thor drops the torch into the burning pyre and turns his back on it. The fire reflects off the tears in his eyes, and he nods at Anna as he walks away to give her space.

Alone at the pyre, most of the crowd has wandered back into the citadel while a few stragglers remain. Thor stands off to one side with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, while Odin watches Anna with his eye hooded. She makes no move forward, no words slip from her lips, as she stares blankly at the fire.

"You are, perhaps, one of the few who truly mourn Loki's passing," Odin says, slowly approaching her where she stands.

Anna bites back tears, "They didn't know him."

"And you did?" Odin asks, lifting an eyebrow. "Loki lived amongst these people for a millennia."

"I suppose I didn't, but...I loved him," She laughs bitterly before adding softly, "I love him."

Odin pauses, "Although I do not believe he deserved your love, I am glad he had it."

She tries to smile, but a fresh wave of tears prevents it from happening. Talking to Odin about Loki, each word brings a new onslaught of pain. A flood of 'if-onlys' overwhelms her thoughts, but she bites back each one. Now is not the time to be angry with Odin, to hold his actions toward his son against him, not when it no longer matters.

No, the only thing that matters is Loki, and now he's gone.

"Will you return to Midgard?" Odin asks.

Anna nods, "Do I have a choice?"

The Allfather does not respond, and they fall into silence. The fire burns bright in front of them, but Anna does not feel the heat. It's a cold night, a gentle wind crawling across her skin, but she is numb to it. Ignoring the voice in her head screaming in resistance, the pounding of her heart hitting her chest like a sledgehammer over and over again, Anna steps forward to drop her torch on the pyre. For a moment, the entire universe stops until it is only her. Only her, alone, as she steps up to say goodbye to the man she loves. A piece of her wants to give up, to throw herself into the fire and burn with him, but she knows that she cannot. Loki would never allow her to give up the remainder of her life for him, nor does she want to be one of those women who ceases to exist without a man in her life. No, she will mourn, but she will keep moving. Undoubtedly, the pain will never go away, but she will learn to handle it.

As the torch falls from her fingertips, the flames merging with those of the greater fire, it feels as if all of the oxygen has been sucked away. Every heartbeat feels like a struggle, fighting to continue, while her body, mind, and soul are ripped to shreds by the finality of it all. She imagines his green eyes, sparkling with mischief, and - for a moment - panic fills her body as she realizes that she'll never see those eyes again.

Anna turns away, finally breaking eye contact with the pyre, and exhales shakily. Odin watches her closely, his eye trained on her face as she forces a sad smile.

"You have the strength of the gods in you," he tells her softly, nodding as she walks past. "I wish you well."

Now Playing: "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice.

*****
AUTHOR'S NOTE

For those of you who weren't reading The Ides Of July as it was being written, welcome to me updating a LOT. No, this isn't a fluke. This is normal! 

It was hard to write the first part of the book because it required watching the film (over + over again) and using the script, whereas now I can do whatever I want. 

Result? I want to write more (and will update more often.) You lucky dogs, you.

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