Chapter Text
Raven was worried and if she was honest, she felt she was right to be so. It was no secret that Alfheim’s need for Aesir assistance had led to a deal being brokered that had many great advantages to it, along with of course, some costs. One of which, though depending who you discussed it with, it being an advantage or a negative was heavily disputable, was her betrothal to a man she had never met face-to-face in her life past childhood, that man being the Allfather’s second son and renowned Trickster, Loki. Reports on the prince were sketching a very peculiar man with no set answer as to his personality and demeanour. To all, he was someone different and that to Raven was the concern. She wanted to know who Loki was as a man but had not been given much by way of answers.
One person to give her a somewhat rounded though a slightly biased account was Frigga, Allmother, queen of Asgard but also, Loki’s mother. She wondered if the queen, who spoke very highly of her son, was truly the best one to give an accurate description of him. When she asked the foreign queen if there was any manner to see for herself what the prince was like, what he genuinely like, they hatched a small, if slightly devious plan.
After some minor training as to the ways of staff of the Aesir palace, Raven was disguised as a maid so to learn of Loki’s true personality for herself to see if she could come to care for the man she was being forced to call her husband. She was reluctant to get married to someone she hardly knew and felt that this was the best manner in which to rectify that. She wanted to know how he would treat those that were supposedly beneath him as she felt that that was a way to accurately assess the man she had to wed.
The Aesir princes had not been to Alfheim since their youth so they had no idea what Raven looked like. Loki, as she had been, was merely informed of the agreement without having been present for it. It would allow her to remain unknown to the prince as she learnt a few things about him.
Raven looked over her uniform and eyed her neatly tied back hair. Elves never tied their hair fully, it always remained as loose as possible but being in the employ of the Aesir royal family, she needed her hair to be out of the way, so she tied it up neatly and examined her work. Satisfied that it was acceptable, she walked the route Frigga had used her seidr to show her to allow her to Loki’s rooms. His previous maid had been given some paid time off to go see her family, not aware that a plan had been hatched for her absence to be required.
She walked through the correct halls, bedsheets in hand, ready for what she expected to be her first real meeting with her betrothed, even if she was the only one of them privy to that particular fact.
She knocked as she was instructed to do before entering. The room was silent, signifying that if Loki was there, he was not to the front of his quarters. Raven looked around the room in an analytical manner. She studied the different paintings and tapestries on the walls, the varied books and sculptures that littered different areas of the room, it seemed somewhat scattered, yet entirely planned and structured.
Raven was so busy looking around, she hardly noticed the figure standing in the doorway between the two rooms studying her in a curious manner. There was no denying who it was in front of her, Raven knew what Loki looked like from her very few memories she had of them as children, not that they would have given a very accurate picture to go off for how he would look as an adult but also because of the images that Frigga had shown her of him. “Your Highness.” She curtsied at him, noting the slightest nod of acknowledgement of her actions. “Forgive me, I was just assessing the rooms as it is my first proper time in them. I wished to know where most items were placed so I could ensure to remember where they went at a later time should they require my putting them back for you.”
“I see.” Loki walked from the doorway to in front of her. “I was worried that I had an opportunistic thief on my hands.”
Raven’s eyes widened, not in fear but in insult. “Not at all, Your Highness, I would never insult my own honour in such a manner.”
If he was honest with himself, Loki was startled that she had not apologised or attempted to plead innocence and forgiveness for such an accusation being made at her but instead, she showed rambunctiousness and bite in return. “Good to know. Now that we have established that much at least, we can get onto the less formal issues, like you informing me as to who you are and why in Odin’s name you are in my rooms assessing the placing of my belongings?”
“I am your temporary personal maid, Your Highness.” Raven was uncertain what to think. Loki was not being as rude and aggressive as some led her to believe yet he was, by no means, overly cordial and nice either.
“I see. And dare I ask where is my other personal maid, Tatiana?”
“She required time off to see her family, Your Highness. I do not know the finer details but I seem to recall that her parents are aged and she wishes to spend some time with them.”
Loki nodded. “Yes, her father is indeed an older fellow, older than my father by a few centuries at least. Tatiana was saying he has not been the healthiest of late. Hopefully, it is nothing serious. How long is this arrangement supposedly in place or does she require an open-ended break from work?”
Raven was startled. Entirely contradictory to the behaviour he had displaced a fraction of a moment before, Loki implied that he knew something personal and cared somewhat for the wellbeing of his employee’s family. “I would be lying if I said I knew, Your Highness. All I am aware of is that she is currently unavailable and I am the one chosen to fill her role until her return, though I am very much informed that she will wish for her position back upon her return.”
“So, we have established that you are not a thief, a good thing too as to have to kill a Light Elf when I am supposed to become more involved with Alfheim in a more personal manner in the very near future would never look well. We have also established your position as my personal maid for the time being and indeed the current situation with your being here, that just leaves one other integral matter?” Raven cocked her head slightly in curiosity as to what that could possibly be. “Your name.”
“My name?”
“You have informed me of much but have at no stage given me a name for you.”
“Oh.” Raven had not thought of that. She knew that with the name of a creature that his father had two as his personal pets, if Loki had heard her name as his betrothed, he would not soon forget it and it could leave her in the very precarious position of being exposed to her betrothed. “Did I not? Forgive me, for I thought I had.”
“You have not.” Loki insisted. “And still seem reluctant to tell me as to what your name is.”
“Branna.” She blurted out before even thinking over what she said.
“Branna?”
“Yes, Your Highness. Branna.”
“That is not Ljósálfar, is it? What does it mean?” He asked curiously.
“No, Your Highness, and it means raven but you see, my mother adores ravens and indeed all corvids but the Princess of Alfheim you see, her name is…”
“Raven, I am aware of such, yes.” Loki’s expression did not give away any thoughts he had of her.
“Yes, and to copy her name directly would be seen as unimaginative and in many respects, insulting to her as our princess, so she went for the Dökkálfar version of it since her grandmother was Dökkálfar, so it made sense to her and it allowed her to do as she wished.”
“That was quite smart of her.”
“Yes.” Raven did not think it wise to push it too far. Loki had a name as a Liesmith from different sources. He could use his words to mould a situation to his liking and knew how to intelligently shape a lie to suit his needs. She knew that if she dug herself into a hole with lies, it would not bode well for her. Branna was the Dökkálfar for Raven. Her maternal grandmother was a Dark Elf and did indeed refer to her as Branna.
“Well, Branna, so long as you do the duties asked of you, I can see no issues between us until Tatiana’s return. Who knows, perhaps you could give me some perspective on the Light Elf way of life. It seems I will have to become somewhat adept at it.”
Raven swallowed slightly. There was no denying it that time. Loki was none-too-keen to be wed to a Light Elf. “Yes, Your Highness.” She nodded, not looking him in the face so he did not see the sad look in her eyes.
“I need to leave for a short time, just tidy everything for now,” Loki ordered before walking out of the room.
*
Raven worked on the room diligently. Growing up, she had never been allowed to do much for herself, which irked her greatly. There were some things she knew she would never be good at, cooking being one such thing. She managed to set fire to a bowl of porridge once. She loved to sew and embroider. It was seen as naff but she loved small intricate designs but such things were seen as maid’s duties. She also liked to tidy her belongings herself but any time she did so was admonished for such. She was the daughter of the king. The only daughter, amidst four sons. She had been something of an anomaly in the family, never truly feeling like she fit in. Her brothers had their places, the eldest Johann was to be king, the next, Richard to be his general, the third, Gerard to be the Lord of the lowlands, a rich agricultural part of the realm and the youngest, Kieran decided to become a healer. Then, amidst them all, a girl. Her parents did not know what to do with her. Very few Light Elf kings had daughters. They did not seem to be a common occurrence leaving Raven to be left with a path to be given in life which caused the situation she was now in, betrothed to Loki as part of a deal that would strengthen the bond between the two realms. She tidied diligently as she thought over everything she had learnt in her few minutes speaking with her intended. While she cleaned, she looked at different artefacts and trinkets as well as books and notes as she tidied. The beautifully elegant writing that matched the ink vials she saw on the table told her it was Loki’s. She loved handwriting, she analysed such things as she felt that it told a lot about a being. Loki’s was artistic, yet it was uniform, which made sense, her analysis of his rooms told her that was true also. Then there was the manner in which he wrote capital letters, unique, but she imagined that he was such an individual himself. She doubted many were as artistic. Such traits were liked in Light Elves, which should have given her hope, instead, with thinking of his dislike when referening his soon-to-be marriage, it filled her with apprehension.