Chapter Text
A week after Asgard had lost one of its princes, Astrid stepped back in front of the court. Her wound where a Jotun spear had torn her torso open was still hurting badly, and the healers had protested vehemently, but there had been no way of stopping her. Gritting her teeth, she had demanded a fresh bandage for her wound and then simply slipped into a simple, but appropriate dress. A maid helped her putting her hair up to make her look her presentable enough to step in front of the King and Queen and then, she simply left the palace hospital.
Still, when Astrid finally pushed open the large doors to the throne room, nobody would have believed she was alright. Her eyes were red from crying, her body seemed frail, especially since she kept holding her side, and her face was pale. The woman who had walked through these halls with confidence a mere week ago now looked nothing but broken and exhausted. The unrattling picture of the ghost of the Lady of Asgard she had been.
She hadn’t bothered to ask for a formal audience, partly because she didn’t care and partly because she knew Odin would have refused her if she had given him the chance. Instead, she just silently dragged herself through the room, past the courtiers and their hushed whispers and surprised stares. She briefly caught Sif's gaze who looked like she wanted to dash forward to help her but was held back by Hogun next to her. Astrid wasn’t sure if he did it solely to protect their friend or because he realized what Astrid was doing but either way, she was grateful for it. Even now, broken, beaten and hurting in a way she never had experienced before … Even now, Astrid Eriksdottir had a plan.
She reached the steps leading to the throne, ignoring the nobleman who had been speaking. He quickly moved aside when he noticed her and Astrid vaguely recognized Leif, the man she nearly would have married in what felt like had been another life. Still, she didn’t bother greeting him and dropped into something that at least vaguely reminded of a curtsy before just sinking down on her knees to prevent herself from falling over. Only then, she lifted her head to meet the eyes of Asgard’s King and Queen.
“Allfather, I beg your permission to enter your late son’s chambers,” she said and kept her voice as steady as she could manage. “I know, I have no right to do so, for I wasn't his wife but …” Her voice broke without her having to fake it and she quickly lowered her gaze again.
I was his and he was mine.
The words, though unspoken, hang heavy between them and there probably wasn’t a soul at Asgard who wouldn’t have understood what she meant. And Astrid couldn’t bring herself to lie about it anymore to keep up appearances with the royal family. Not right now, not after … everything.
“I ask for permission to look through his belongings,” she finally said and cleared her throat. “To at least retrieve what’s mine.”
It is the least you can allow me since you’re refusing to let me mourn him the way I deserve.
For a long moment, Odin didn’t say anything. Instead, he stared down at the woman in front of him, down on her knees, her head lowered, begging him for mercy when he had never showed her any, no matter the years she had spent at his son’s side. Astrid could hear how the Queen next to him clicked her tongue when he remained silent and even without looking at Frigga, she knew that the older woman was shooting daggers at her husband right now.
And when Odin kept being silent at Astrid’s request, it was the Queen who stepped forward to cut through the tension growing in the room. “Rise, Astrid Eiriksdottir,” she said. “You have been like a daughter to me for many years, there is no reason for you to kneel before friends.”
A part of Astrid wanted to laugh at Frigga’s words. The royal family had treated her like a dog for so long. Maybe not in private and maybe not all of them equally clearly but one way or another all of them had reminded her over and over again that she was many things but not suitable to be the woman at the side of a prince, not even as a mistress, no matter how much she loved him. Or how much he loved her. And now the Queen stood there and called her a daughter and a friend.
Astrid began rising to her feet anyway, playing her part as if there was nothing standing between them and even managed to force a pained smile. “Thank you, your M—,” she began but then lost her hold as a sharp jolt of pain flashed through her torso. She groaned and reached out to hold her side again but, in her pose, half between kneeling and standing, she couldn’t hold herself up anymore and would have fallen to the ground if it hadn’t been for a pair of strong arms rushing to her side and steadying her.
“Thank you,” Astrid whispered and turned her head, half expecting Sif having jumped to her side after all but when she looked at the person next to her, it was Thor’s gaze she was meeting.
“Take it slow,” he replied equally quietly and carefully began helping her back to her feet. Astrid nodded, too tired to act strong, and simply took his help. He got her back standing on her own, but when he finally let go of her to return to his spot at the side of the throne, he stopped himself again.
“You’re bleeding.”
Astrid looked down at her side and cursed softly. He was right. Deep red blood was seeping through her dress and the bandages below, slowly forming a growing stain on the soft fabric.
Still, Astrid just slowly shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
Thor turned his head to his parents. “She needs a healer.”
“No.” Astrid glared at him for a moment before turning back to Frigga and Odin again. “I need an answer first.”
All eyes in the room were fixed on the Allfather now whose face remained an unreadable mask. He stared down at Astrid, his one eye never leaving her, and then, after what felt like an eternity, he simply shook his head.
“You ask for something that would be the privileges of a widow. But my son wasn’t married.”
“Father—,” began Thor but Odin raised his hand to cut him off. “No. It is decided. Lady Astrid interrupted this audience uninvited and while I see that she is suffering, I will not bend the rules of Asgard for her.”
“Husband.” Frigga stepped at his side and although her voice was gentle, there was a warning lingering beneath. “Our son would have wanted it this way. Grant him this last mercy.”
Odin hesitated, but then, he nodded. “Very well. For Loki.”
“For Loki,” repeated Frigga quietly and turned back to Astrid.
“Lady Sif?” she then called out and out of nowhere, the other woman appeared at Astrid’s side.
“Yes, your Majesty?”
“Bring Lady Astrid back to the healers. She should rest.” Frigga’s gaze flicked back to Astrid and for a moment, her expression turned sad. “We will sort everything else out once she’s recovered.”
Astrid didn’t answer anything to that. She felt more and more dizzy with every second passing and wouldn’t have trusted her own tongue in this state, but she also wouldn’t have known what to say to that. She had gotten what she wanted, but it still felt like a defeat. Even now the Allfather wouldn’t acknowledge her for what she was. Even now.
Sif wrapped one arm around Astrid’s torso and draped one of Astrid’s along her own neck to support her as she helped her friend turn around and slowly walk back towards the doors. From the corners or her eyes, Astrid noticed Fandral jumping to her other side and walking along with them to help Sif carry her if needed, but in the end, Astrid simply forced herself to ignore the pain radiating from her wound and the blood seeping through her clothes and just made one step after another until they reached the doors.
“You’re truly unbelievable,” hissed Sif once they had left the room. “Look at you, you’re still barely able to stand. What in all Nine Realms were you thinking?”
Astrid barked a quiet, bitter laugh. “The court of Asgard is all about appearances,” she gave back, her voice hoarse and strained from the pain coming from her side. “How could the Allfather have refused the wish of a broken woman like me without looking unnecessarily cruel?”
For a second, Sif stopped in her tracks. “So, this was all just a game to you? A plan to get your will?”
“Everything around here is a game,” replied Astrid and didn’t bother to keep the sadness and despair she felt out of her voice. “You simply gamble and hope you don’t lose. And I don’t have anything to lose anymore, so why not go all in?”
“Astrid—”
“Please.” Astrid shook her head. “Get me back to the healers. I’m feeling dizzy. You can yell at me all you want later.”
Sif cursed softly at that but followed Astrid’s request. Back in the narrow room in the palace hospital, Astrid later barely managed to stay conscious as one of the servants there helped her out of her dress before a healer changed her bandage and helped her back into the back. The days after that were blurred between sleep and drifting back to consciousness and half of the time Astrid later couldn’t even say what had been real and what had been a dream. At some point she heard Sif fighting with someone and vaguely registered that it was about her.
“I’m worried about her! She’s never been like that. Ever,” Sif said to someone hidden behind something that felt like fog in Astrid’s mind. “Astrid’s strong. But now … She just seems to have given up.”
Astrid was too tired and the fog of her mind too thick to keep listening to the conversation but that didn’t change how Sif was right. Astrid had given up. For years and years, she had accepted that there were walls she just would never be able to cross. Had accepted that there was a price to pay when someone like her cut through the hierarchies of the court. She had accepted it because in return, she had gotten the man she loved. She had gotten Loki who had always been worth the prices she had to pay for him. But now Loki was dead. And with him, Astrid had lost more than she thought she could ever endure.
And then, she woke up again.