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“Oh, come now,” Volstagg thundered from across the table, a goblet of mead in his hand. “You sorcerers read minds all the time, I know it!”
“It’s not true!” You insisted, laughing. The midsummer banquet had long since ended, but Thor’s group of close friends – yourself included – had simply elected to move the party to his wing of the palace, where you could continue to revel and drink uninterrupted. “Seidr allows us to influence minds only.”
“I don’t believe it,” the red-bearded warrior decided. Finding your answer dissatisfactory, he turned to the more knowledgeable of the two sorcerers at the long table.
Loki regarded his gaze with the faintest of smiles. “Yes, Volstagg?”
“Can you read minds, Silvertongue?”
Loki took a sip of his drink, which he had undoubtedly magicked into a finer, more sophisticated liquor besides mead, and raised one dark eyebrow, keeping the table in suspense before shaking his head. “No, I can’t read minds.”
The group erupted. You and Loki shared a mutual smirk amidst the clamor, and you subtly leaned closer to him, speaking in his ear. “A good thing, too, or we would have no secrets between us.”
“Secrets?” He repeated, a confused smirk lighting his poet’s mouth as he lowered his goblet and met your eyes. “What have you yet to tell me?”
Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, and you forced them down with a nonchalant shake of your head and a light kiss to his cheek.
“Nothing,” You lied, covering genuine anxiety with a coy and playful tone that, hopefully, he wouldn’t see past.
You hadn’t figured out a way to tell Loki yet.
The only things keeping him in the dark were the medicines you had concocted for morning sickness, your own personal resolve, and time. Sooner or later, one of the three would fail. In retrospect, you had no idea how two intelligent sorcerers could make such a thoughtless error: both magic and herbal contraceptives were commonplace on Asgard, and yet neither had been used. You had no clue how Loki would respond to the news of a child; the two of you had never discussed it before.
You were drawn out of your thoughts by Thor’s rich, deep voice declaring across the room: “maybe not read minds, brother, but you can search them all the same.”
The party began to argue, and Loki held out a hand, quieting them. “Searching someone’s mind and reading it are two different ideologies,” he clarified. “To break and enter someone’s consciousness is a crime, and incredibly difficult besides. But opening a two-way connection? That would be something else entirely.”
“Read your fair lady’s mind, then,” Sif suggested, smirking wolfishly and setting her cup down on the golden table. “She trusts you. Tell us her thoughts.”
Loki raised his eyebrow and looked sideways at you, and you stalled. You were in no position to refuse. Reluctantly, you set down your goblet of cider and pulled away to face him, straightening your back. Your heart was pounding, but you hid it well, and gave him an easy nod.
The table discussion turned to a murmur as Loki inhaled deeply, stilling himself and narrowing his focus. His green eyes shimmered with seidr and you felt the push of his consciousness when it met yours, like a gust of wind. You shivered.Loki pried gently into your mind with a tangible gentleness, surveying the thoughts that came and went. You tried to think of anything but your secret and keep his attention on more mundane trains of thought: the events of the party, the growing discomfort of your dress, how unbelievably handsome he looked in your eyes.
Loki’s focus snagged this last thought and shook his head, his cheeks tinging with a light blush. “Don’t try and distract me,” he warned lowly, with a graveling tone that sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.
“What is she thinking?” Volstagg demanded.
Loki shrugged. “Mostly flattery.” He narrowed his eyes and his eyes glowed faintly as he delved deeper. You felt it, and instinctively closed the door of your mind to block him from discovering your secret – he sensed it shut, and unease flickered behind his eyes. What were you hiding from him?
He veiled his confusion with a light scoff. “She’s evading me.”
Fandral tutted at you as he raised his goblet. “Come now, don’t you trust your lover?”
Loki’s eyes reflected the same question.
You met his gaze with your hands clasped tight enough to make your knuckles whiten. Your stomach turned over with nausea. You swallowed. The doubt and apprehension in Loki’s expression was as clear and visible to you as if he had expressed it aloud; you didn’t need to read his mind to see that. It was visible in the tension of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his thigh.
If you didn’t tell him now, when would you?
You took a breath and smiled briefly, reaching forward and wrapping your fingers around his wrist to stop the anxious tapping. “I do,” you affirmed, and after a moment, removed the door inside your mind.
You watched him fall right through it like a fox into a rabbit hole.
Loki’s face paled. A beat of silence passed.
Then another.
“What is it?” Fandral asked, expressing the thoughts of the table aloud. “Well? What is she thinking?”
“Silver tongue turned to lead?” Volstagg joked.
Loki blinked, and swallowed. “Excuse me,” he said, standing abruptly and taking you by the arm. A half-spoken apology left your lips before he dragged you out and into the dark hallway outside the banquet room, the heavy doors clanging shut behind you.
The night wind was warm and heavy with the scents of midsummer, carrying the faint voices and music of the city below, lights twinkling in the dark. Your heart was in your throat when Loki cupped your face in his hands, elegant fingers tucking your hair back out of familiar habit. You shied from his touch, expecting rejection and refusing to meet his gaze.
His eyes searched your face, not daring to ask, but knowing he must. “Is it true? Are you–” his voice stalled, and his eyes dropped to your stomach before coming back up again.
You pressed your lips together and nodded as anxious tears pricked at your eyes. “I’m sorry,” you began, and your voice broke. “I- I would have told you some other way, but–”
Loki silenced you with a kiss, the taste of sweet wine lingering on his lips. The glass floor of anxiety broke beneath your feet and you leaned into him, cupping his jaw in your shaking hands. A meteor streaked across the dark sky as the two of you stood there, dark silhouettes a backdrop of golden lights.
He pulled away. His hands slid down your arms, holding you there. “How long?”
“Two months,” you quavered. Your tears spilled over, and you reached up hastily to wipe them with your palm. “You’re– you’re not upset?”
Loki’s mouth opened in surprise. His expression spoke volumes and he exhaled quickly, shaking his head and pulling you to his chest.
“Upset?” He repeated, laughing in disbelief. He cradled your head beneath his chin, fingers gently tangled in your hair. “Ohh, my love. I’m only sorry that you bore it alone for so long.” You let out a muffled sob of relief against his chest and he held you a bit tighter, running his hand up and down your back.
You stayed there together, holding each other until your tears subsided. You pulled away, wiping your face once more. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, pushing your hair back and sighing. “It’s supposed to be a happy night.”
“It is,” he insisted, leaning down to wipe the remnants of your tears and pressing kisses to your cheeks. He took your hands in his and squeezed them gently. “And if I recall correctly, we didn’t get a chance to dance. There may yet be some fires still burning.”
You chuckled, still a little teary, and nodded. “I’d like that.” You linked your arm through his, leaning your head against his shoulder as you began walking. The night air was warm and sweet, carrying the promise of a good harvest on the gentle breeze. Midsummer on Asgard has always been one of your favorite holidays: it was both a reassurance of the present and a promise of the future. Each one had been memorable. You had a feeling this one would be, too.
Loki’s thoughts were running rampant through his head loudly enough for you to notice, distracting you from enjoying the breeze, and you poked him in the side. “What is it?’
Loki made a surprised noise before looking down at you. “How in all the realms did you manage to hide it from me for so long? What about the sickness?”
You laughed then, raising your eyebrow. “Your mother may have helped me with a remedy,” you admitted, averting your eyes in a feigned expression of innocence.
As you expected, Loki’s jaw dropped, and he made an indignant noise. “She knew?”
“Of course she did, she knows everything.”
Loki scoffed and rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together to try and hide the smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “She does know everything. I should have guessed.”
“Well, you know now.”
“That I do,” He agreed. “And I have half a mind to wed you for your treachery.”
“Treachery?” You repeated incredulously, though that wasn’t the word that had caught your attention. The mention of marriage made your face flush and your stomach flip. Out of all the reactions you had envisioned when it came to sharing this secret, a proposal wasn’t one you’d expected. Loki, your husband; you could get used to calling him that.
You sighed dramatically and tried to quell the butterflies inside your ribs, squeezing his arm. “Well, I accept. The punishment is fitting.” Loki looked down at you and the two of you shared a mutual smirk – you could tell he was excited, too, in the way his green eyes twinkled and his breath caught when you pressed a kiss to his cheek.
The sounds of music and jubilee coming from the lower city promised a long night of dancing and revelry despite the late hour. The two of you snuck your way down through the crowded alleyways, walking beneath lantern light and watching the silhouettes of people dancing in rings around the fires. The night wind was thick with the scents of wood smoke and summer fruit. Loki reeled you in and held your hand as you joined one of the rings, laughing and stepping your feet with all the rest.
No one else noticed the two magicians casting dancing shadows of their own on the cobblestone. By the time the next summer solstice came, they would be joined by a third. But for now, it was only you and Loki, dancing in the bonfire light with color in your cheeks and laughter on your lips. Loki’s eyes sparkled and his hands held yours with every assurance of safety and permanence. He loved you. And you didn’t need to read his mind to know that for a fact.