The next morning was a whirlwind of activity. I was scrubbed, powdered and perfumed within an inch of my life. Now I sat looking at a stranger in the mirror while one of the servants, a petite blonde girl, tugged on my hair..

                “Wow,” Charlotte stood behind us, peering into the mirror at me, “I barely recognize you!”

                “No kidding,” I examined the bright red lipstick that contrasted with my pale skin. They’d sent in a makeup artist who had done my eyes up in black liner and smoky shadow, and my eyes looked huge and dark.  Another sharp tug on my scalp made me wince, and the servant girl said softly,

                “Just be another moment, miss. Almost finished.”

                “Don’t worry,” I tried to sound reassuring, since the poor girl looked nervous, “I’m just a big wuss.”

                After another couple of minutes she drew back, “There, all done. Would you like to see the back?”

                The front was beautiful. She’d curled a few strands of blonde hair and left them hanging in the front, and a line of clear glass beads sat just behind my side bangs. When the girl held a hand mirror behind my head I could see that the back was done in intricate twists and braided at the bottom.

                “Wow,” I breathed, “that looks amazing.”

                The girl looked pleased, “I tried to make it look like something the Queen would wear. I’ll help you get dressed then, miss.”

                Practically on cue there came a gentle knock at the door, and the seamstress entered holding a white garment bag, “Dress is ready.” The tall woman crossed over and examined my hair, “wonderful job, Mary.”

                The servant girl blushed, “Thank you.”

                “Let’s get you dressed,” the seamstress said to me, and I stood up, scraping back the vanity chair.  It was a little startling how fast she whipped off my regular clothes. I stood in front of the mirror, red faced, in just a bra and panties. The servant, Mary, unzipped the garment bag and handed the seamstress a length of silver fabric, which the seamstress held carefully, unzipping the side.

                “Slide into this,” she commanded, “but keep your hand on my shoulder when you do it. Be careful not to yank on the fabric.”

                I did as I was told, a little petrified. The dress slipped up over my bare thighs and torso, feeling silky against my skin.

                “Suck it in,” the seamstress said cheerfully, and then she zipped up the side and took a little while walking around me, tugging the fabric into place, “alright. Have a look.”

                I walked carefully into the bathroom where the full length mirror was, the fabric moving fluidly around my legs. Finally, when I stepped in front of the mirror my jaw dropped. This elegant creature couldn’t possibly be me. Huge, doe eyes and ruby red lips, a swan-like neck and pale shimmering curls that framed her face.

             The dress was exquisite. Soft silver fabric hugged my upper body, studded with tiny flecks of diamonds that sparkled when I moved. The dress flared out just under my hips and draped over my legs, pooling on the floor around me like quicksilver.

                Charlotte peered around the doorway, laughing, “You should see your face! That looks amazing on you by the way.” She had slipped into a free-flowing white dress and she was pulling her hair into a pony tail while she stared at me.

                “Thanks,” I murmured. My voice was shaking. The understanding that I’d be standing in front of the entire throne room wasstarting to set in.

                “Time to go, miss,” Mary peered around Charlotte, “your escort is here.”

                “My escort?” I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. Why did I need an escort? Did they think I was going to run away? The idea was sort of tempting, actually.

                When I exited the bathroom I was startled to see Erik standing in the center of the room, looking a little lost. He was dressed in a black tux and a silver tie that matched the fabric of my dress. His blonde hair had been neatly styled and as I got closer I caught a faint whiff of cologne.

                “You’re my escort?” The relief on my face must have been obvious, because he chuckled.

                “I hope you don’t mind.” He offered me his arm, and I accepted it gladly, “ready?”

                Taking a deep breath, I nodded, “ready as I’ll ever be.”

                The halls were empty as we walked through them, trailed by Charlotte. Our footsteps echoed loudly around us, my heels on the ice floor sounded like gun shots in the silence. I was thankful that the seamstress had only forced me into two inch heels. I had a difficult time in anything higher than that.

                “Why is it so quiet?” I whispered.

                “Because everyone is already in the throne room.”

                Everyone was waiting. For me. I tried to breathe evenly, but it was hard to get any breath at all. My chest felt so tight it ached. Everyone was going to be staring at me, examining me. Pulling me apart and judging me.  By the time we arrived at the massive double doors my heart was thundering so hard in my ears I could hardly hear Erik when he said, “Ready?”

I tightened my grip on his arm and swallowed, unable to speak. I nodded.

Erik nodded to the sullen faced guards at the doors, who each took one handle, drawing them inwards, revealing the huge throne room beyond. The floor was packed with people, all of them just as powdered and perfumed as me. The women in sweeping gowns and sparkling diamonds, the men in white and black tuxes.  When the doors swept open the quiet murmur of conversation trailed away. They all turned to stare at me. Erik gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Just walk straight forward toward the Queen. You’ll be fine,” he whispered.

I fixed my eyes on the Queen. She was sitting on her throne, hands folded in her lap, shoulders back, smiling regally down at me.  Today she was wearing a white and silver dress, and her hair was studded with diamonds and done up in coils on top of her head.  Her stare seemed to freeze my breath in my lungs. Luckily Erik was pacing steadily forward, one foot ahead of the other, and I forced myself to copy him. Around me whispers echoed, picked up and repeated by the jotun on all sides of me, sounding like the gentle murmur of a river carrying news downstream.  I caught the odd phrase or two in the flow, “she looks just like her” and “…making her the princess….”

I tipped my head back, determined to ignore the stares, and that simple action caused the whispering to double. Eyes darted over me, hands cupped over mouths as people whispered to their neighbors. I kept walking forward and hoped that I wouldn’t sweat all over the beautiful gown.

When we stopped just before the steps to the throne and Erik bowed low. I followed suit. The Queen rose out of her chair and stepped down, reaching for my hand.

“Come daughter,” she said softly, “stand beside me and address the people. You look beautiful, Amora.”

I murmured my thanks, and we turned to face the throne room, which had fallen totally silent.

Queen Eira’s voice rang out, cold and full of strength, “I have gathered you here today to make the announcement official,” she paused, and the murmuring began again.  She raised one arm and gracefully stopped the chatter with one motion, “Many of you know already what I’m about to tell you, gossip has a way of making the rounds, but I will make it official.” The Queen reached out and grasped my hand, her grip cold and firm, “in two weeks’ time, we will move against Muspellheim. We will finish what was started years ago and tear down the city to the last black rock!”

Cheers burst forth from the solemn crowd, startling me. I blinked, staring down at the faces looking up at us. Most of the jotun were smiling fiercely, pumping fists into the air in approval. But I noticed that more than a few hung back, faces carefully blank. I wondered if the Queen saw them. My hand was jerked into the ai and I stiffened as Eira’s cold voice rang out,

“I give you my daughter! Amora will lead you into victory!”

More cheering and shouting, and this time they were all looking at me. They were cheering for me. It was overwhelming and scary. I can't do this. The Queen’s hand tightened around mine, and she hissed, “ Smile.”

My face felt tight as I gave the crowd a wide, fake smile and dipped my head in acknowledgment of their cheering.  The crowd seemed to be working themselves into a frenzy, stamping their feet and shouting. Erik stood off to one side, still as a rock in front of the ever shifting bodies. His face was neutral, and I wondered what he was thinking right now. When his eyes met mine he gave me a little smile, and my smile back to him was real this time.

“Thank you,” the Queen raised her voice over the chaotic noise, “now, we have all been preparing for this for years, but soldiers, sharpen your swords. Ready yourself for battle.”

More cheering. My arm was starting to ache, so it was a relief when she finally released it and turned to me. She placed on hand on my cheek, “For the next two weeks you may do as you please to ready yourself, Amora. Mentally prepare yourself.” She smiled, the expression softening her hard features, “make me proud, child.”

“I will,” I stammered.

Her hand fell away, “go now, Erik will fit you for chain mail.”

Feeling awkward I gave her a little half bow and moved back down the stairs, careful not to take them too fast in my high heels. The idea of falling on my face in front of this crowd was horrifying.  Erik swept up and offered his arm, and I took it, blowing out a relieved sigh.

He leaned over and murmured close to my ear, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” I focused on matching him step for step, ignoring the fact that the entire throne room was watching us exit. “I’ll be alright.” As soon as we get out of here I’ll be fine. We passed Charlotte on the way out, who was leaning back against the wall looking coyly up at Davin, who was talking animatedly about something. She gave me a thumbs up as we swept past, and I smiled back at her. Looked like she’d be busy for awhile.

We passed through the double doors, back out into the hallway and I could finally breath again. Erik paused, and just as he did my heel slipped on the icy floor and I felt myself pitch backwards. My mouth opened but nothing came out, and then a strong arm was around my waist, and my head was dangling just above the floor.

I squeaked in surprise as Erik tilted me upright again, “That was close. Are you okay?”

Suddenly my entire body was shaking, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d nearly cracked my head open just now, or because seconds ago everyone had been staring at me, or because tomorrow night I'd be attempting to escape.  Maybe all of those things. I leaned forward and put my hands on my knees, feeling the silky fabric of my dress beneath my fingers, breathing deeply to try to calm myself.

Erik’s hand was on my back, “Are you alright? Amora?”

It was like something snapped, and I jerked upright and glared at him, “My name is Megan!”

He took a step backwards, blue eyes wide with surprise, and I felt bad almost instantly.

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, “I can’t…it’s just…just…”

“Everything?” he gave me a sympathetic smile and I nodded with relief. He wasn’t mad I’d snapped at him. He understood.

“Everything.”

“Let’s get you back to your room. You should have a nice soak or something, or just relax for a bit. We won’t worry about your chainmail until tomorrow.”

Suddenly I felt tired, like the announcement in the throne room had drained all the energy out of me, “Thank you.”

When he delivered me to my door I surprised even myself by giving him a hug, “thanks for not letting my skull hit the floor.” For a second his arms were tighter around me, and I wondered if he was going to let go at all. Then he released me and stepped back, giving me a wide smile,

“Anytime, Megan. I’ll see you later.”

I smiled, a little embarrassed. It was the first time he’d called me Megan in a long time.

Charlotte came in later, darting around the room like a small  tornado in a white dress. She chattered about how she was going out walking with Davin again, stripping off the dress and letting it crumple onto the tiles, rummaging for something else to wear in the drawers. I watched in amusement as she hopped around with one pant leg on, still chattering in excitement. Finally she left, taking the noise and activity with her, telling me she’ll be back later tonight.

I felt sort of lost when the room was silent again. I should be happy that she’s out enjoying herself, but her constant chatter was a distraction from the tempest brewing in my head. Trying to push away thoughts about the battle is nearly impossible. What will it be like riding into battle? Will I actually be able to kill someone? I tried to ignore the insistent fears that kept cropping up, distracting myself with a long hot shower. Supper time came and went, and I just lay on the bed staring up at the canopy, listening to footsteps shuffling past in the hallway, laughter and noise that sounded too far away to be a part of. There was a sudden knock on the door, and I jerked upright, suddenly remembering that Loki was supposed to be visiting. He was convinced I was coming with him tonight. Panic seized me. In the excitement and rush of this morning I’d forgotten altogether. What with Lief’s attack last night and everything that had happened, I hadn’t told Charlotte about it. I wasn’t prepared! What if we tried to sneak out and got caught?

The knock came again, and I tried to swallow my fear, “Come in.”

Loki pushed through the doorway, carrying a platter of sandwiches. He shut the door behind him and grinned mischievously at me, “heard you skipped dinner again.”

“Lots to think about,” I sat up and forced a smile.

Loki yanked off the wig and glasses and threw them onto the bed, he jumped onto the mattress beside me, and I nearly tipped over onto him.

“Hey!” I stopped protesting when he waved the sandwich platter under my nose and my stomach growled loudly. “Those look good.”

“They are good,” he grinned, “I just ate about six of them.”

I picked one off the plate and bit into it, and there was a moment of silence. When I looked up Loki was staring at me. Blushing furiously, I swallowed and said, “don’t watch me eat!”

“Why not?” Loki flopped over, stretching the length of his body out on the bed, putting his hands behind his head, “you’re cute when you’re shoving sandwich in your mouth.”

I poked him hard in the ribs and he let out a breath, “oof! Don’t be so violent, I brought you sandwiches!”

“You did,” I admitted.

He sat up abruptly and grabbed my hand, “so, are you for sure coming with me?”

I chewed slowly, holding one finger up, pretending I didn’t want to talk with my mouth full, when really my mind was racing. The options weren’t good. Go into battle and probably be killed, or go with Loki and put my absolute faith in him.

He released my hand and quirked one brow at me, “you’re stalling.”

“I’m chewing,” I said indignantly.

“Not anymore. You're second guessing yourself, aren't you?”

Folding my arms across my chest I glared at him, “why should I go with you? Why should I trust you? Give me one good…”

Loki leaned forward abruptly and suddenly his hand was on the back of my neck, the other under my chin, tilting my face up. His mouth was hot on mine, just for moment. Then he pulled back, but I made a small, outraged sound and grabbed his shirt collar, yanking him back towards me. Loki gave me a crooked grin and then he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me over.

“Hey…” my protests were cut off when he threw one leg over my stomach, straddling my hips. He leaned forward, pressing my shoulders into the bed and his mouth found mine again. The kiss was firmer this time, more insistent, and his hands were in my hair.

A loud bang from the opposite side of the room made us both jump. My eyes flew open, thinking that Charlotte had caught us in a very compromising position.

Instead, a deep voice cried, “what the hell is this?”

I peered around Loki, heart in my throat.

There in the doorway, his face twisted with rage, was Erik.