The halls of the Vanaheim royal palace tended to be quieter at night. A few servants scuttled around, and occasionally one of the royal family might take a walk, but on this particular night, they all kept to their own rooms, packing for a departure to Asgard. All of the palace was abuzz with the news of a royal wedding between Prince Loki of Asgard and Princess Maeve of Vanaheim. Many of the servants had watched the young girl grow up and therefore harbored fond feelings for her.

Amidst the gossip and excitement, a young Vanir woman hurried down the hallway, an envelope clutched in her hand. Instead of making the turn to the servants' quarters, the maiden walked toward the royal family's personal wing. Perhaps she should have been worried, but she couldn't find space in her mind for anxiety. Excitement flushed her face when she thought of her destination. In fact, she kept herself so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't notice King Frey until she ran right into him.

"Oh!" She exclaimed, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. She quickly sank into a low curtsey. "Your Majesty. I apologize. I didn't mean to-"

"Up off of the floor, lass," he growled. She did as he said immediately, trying not to seem afraid. "What business do you have in this wing of the castle at this late hour?"

"I- I was just-"

He slapped her across the cheek. "Don't mumble. Answer your king!"

"Hey, what's going on?" The young woman's eyes widened as Prince Corey joined them. She curtsied again and almost dropped the envelope, the piece of paper that had somehow gotten her into so much trouble. Corey saw the terrified look in her dark eyes, smelled the alcohol on his father's breath, and instantly resolved to help her. "Papa, I'll handle this," he said quietly, giving his father a look. The king obliged begrudgingly, and as soon as he was out of sight, Corey stepped forward, concern on his face. "Did he hit you?"

She bit her lip, torn between lying to royalty and unveiling an unpleasant truth about her ruler. "It's not bad," she finally said, although her cheek did ache. After dealing with Maeve's lies for years, Corey saw right through hers.

"Come with me. My brother's a healer, he can fix that." He started to walk down the hallway. After a moment of hesitation, she followed him. "What are you doing around here? Servants aren't supposed to be in royal wings after dusk without permission. You seem smart enough to know that."

She held up the letter. "This is for your brother, Your Highness. There was an error with the mail and it was sent to someone in the healing wing instead of him. I didn't know if it was urgent, so I didn't want to wait until morning to deliver it."

"Oh, you're a healer? What's your name?" He didn't recognize her, which was odd, because Corey spent more time needing healing than the rest of his brothers combined. It was a drawback of being the god of war and commander of the royal army. He also had a tendency to act recklessly.

Once again, she hesitated. Does he know? "I'm Gale Torstendottir, Your Highness."

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Corey Freyson. You may have heard of me." He winked and gave her a crooked grin, but Gale couldn't focus, not with where he was taking her. "Right up here. Here's his office. I'd bet he's the only one in the entire palace still working at this hour."

He knocked once before pushing open a door at the end of the hallway. Inside, Asmund sat hunched over at his desk, reading through scrolls of parchment with a slightly harried energy. His blond hair appeared messier than usual. He didn't even notice them come in, only looking up when Corey cleared his throat obnoxiously. His head snapped up and his blue eyes instantly fell on Gale.

Her dark waves were tied back into a modest bun at the nape of her neck save a few stray pieces that framed her heart-shaped face. Tall and slender, she wore a simple gray gown denoting her as a servant to the palace, and she hung back near the door, wary of entering. An odd expression crossed Asmund's face.

"Hello," he finally said. A flicker of worry coursed through him at the sight of her cheek, but he kept his thoughts to himself, as always. The longer you stay quiet, the easier it becomes. "How can I help the two of you tonight?"

Corey brushed some of the letters to the side and sat on the corner of the desk. Asmund tried to hide his annoyance, but he miserably failed. Corey didn't notice, but Gale did, and she giggled in spite of herself before concealing her smile behind her hand, sure that her laughter wasn't appropriate in such company.

"Lady Torstendottir has a letter for you, brother," Corey explained. "It was delivered to the healing wing by mistake. She unfortunately ran into Papa on her way to deliver it."

"Oh." His eyebrows drew together as he arrived at the conclusion. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "I'm fine. It will heal in a few days, I'm sure."

"Nonsense," Corey laughed. "Asmund's a healer, too. He can help you."

An uncomfortable moment of silence fell in the room, though there was no clear reason why. Gale froze, the letter still held tightly in her grasp. Asmund frowned but rose from his chair and walked around the desk. Neither the healer nor the prince met each other's eyes as Asmund gently ran his fingers down her bruising cheek. She sighed with relief when the aching pain receded. Asmund stepped back as soon as he was finished and retreated to his desk.

"Thank you, Your Highness," she said quietly before holding out the cream-colored letter. "This came for you."

"Thank you." Their fingers brushed as she handed him the envelope and both pulled back as soon as they could, like the simple touch electrified their skin.

Gale cleared her throat. "I'll be going now. They still need help cleaning up the healing wing. Good night, my princes. Safe travels. Wish your sister well for me." She sank into a deep curtsey before leaving the room as quickly as possible.

"Nervous thing, she is," Corey commented, his eyes still on the door. "Bit jumpy. She's pretty, though."

"Mhm." Asmund slit open the envelope with a small knife, ignoring his brother's observations. Recognizing the familiar handwriting immediately, he said, "it's from Maeve."

"Read it out loud! Let's see what the bride has to say a few nights from her wedding."

Dear Asmund,

I'm writing this to you while buried under wedding dresses. Literally. They're everywhere! I can barely see. Why am I so short? I'm trapped under a mountain of dresses and they have to hem every one I try on. It's kind of embarrassing!

Everyone is so busy around here, and I'm grateful for it. Even though my distraction is wedding preparation, it somehow manages to distract me from the whole getting married part. Is that strange? I think it only makes sense in my head. Not that I don't want to marry Loki, because I most definitely do. It's just all happening so fast. I wish I could freeze time for a moment and just breathe. It'll be better when you all come. How long has it been since we've seen each other? It must have been when we rescued Roscoe, so months. I miss you all.

Frigga and I have been working to blend Aesir and Vanir wedding traditions. I think you'll like what we've come up with. I know I do. Oh, and please make sure Papa brings the sword. Please? He probably will remember, but just in case. Better to have our bases covered.

I've got to go. They've got the next dress ready for me to try on. I never knew a dress fitting could be exhausting, but I guess I'm still learning!

Thor told me to say hi. I'll see you in a week! Make sure to take care of yourself.

Your sister,

Maeve

Asmund placed the letter on his desk once he finished reading. It still felt odd to him that in less than a week, his baby sister would be a wife. He must have missed it when she grew up, because he certainly didn't remember it happening. Either way, he was happy for her.

Their time in the Jotunheim, while terrible and dangerous, proved to Asmund that Loki loved Maeve and would protect her at all costs. While he truly believed that no one was good enough for his sister, Asmund thought the younger prince of Asgard was as close to good enough as anyone would be. Anyone with eyes could see how well the two complimented each other. The wedding was set to be a massive event, which made him chuckle, considering how private both the bride and the groom were. He thought of the last wedding he experienced. This one would be very different. Much grander, although he didn't believe the size of a wedding dictated how special it was.

"Why does she write to you and not to me?" Corey demanded. Asmund's eyebrows quirked up in amusement.

"Because I write back?"

"I do!" Corey replied defensively. "Sometimes. I get busy!"

And I don't? "It's good that she's happy," he said. He began to straighten up papers. "Don't you have packing to do?"

"Don't you? I bet you haven't even started yet."

The older prince shook his head with a rueful smile. "You know me too well. I'll pack tonight."

"Sure you will. I'll leave and come back a few hours later to find you here, passed out on your desk, no packing done, papers everywhere, and then I'll have to help you instead of getting some well-deserved sleep." Corey grinned as he hopped off of the desk. "We don't need that, now do we?"

"No. Get going. I'll be done in a few minutes."

Corey gave a humorous bow. "Good night."

"Good night."

Once Asmund was alone again, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and put his head into his hands. That was too close for his comfort. He let his illusions fade away, revealing dark shadows under his eyes and a swirling mark on his wrist. Corey called himself an expert at catching Maeve's illusions, but he never caught Asmund's. He never even thought to look. No one thought that calm and steady Asmund would ever have a secret.

They were wrong.

Hi! It's been a little while, sorry! How did you like this chapter?

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