*

"It's going to be okay."

Maeve nodded, but she didn't believe him. Not a single comforting thing Loki had told her all morning made a dent in her anxiety.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered, sinking into a chair in front of the mirror.

He knelt down next to her. His emerald eyes met her teary blue ones. "Maeve, you've got to calm down. I hate to say it like this, my love, but if you break down in front of the Council, they will not take you seriously."

"Wow, you've made me feel so much better," she said sarcastically, smiling through her tears, which he wiped away with his thumb. "I just... he's my father, Lo. I know it's silly of me to feel bad, considering everything he put me through, but I do anyway! It's so... infuriating."

"Listen to me." Loki tilted her chin up. "There's nothing wrong with you feeling the way you do. You are a truly gentle and empathetic soul, and I truly believe that you don't want to hurt anyone."

While he never suffered from this situation, he understood that she was far kinder than he'd ever be. Personally, he wanted to rip Frey to shreds, but that wouldn't do, and saying it wouldn't help. He just needed to be there for her.

"Then how do I do this?" She whispered, completely at a loss.

"Think about it this way. You're not condemning your father. You're saving your brother."

"Right. Saving my brother." A moment of silence passed between them. Then, Maeve swallowed thickly and said, "I'm going to need your help."

"As I've said, I'll be right by your side the entire time."

"No, not like that." She sighed, upset of what she was about to ask him to do. "I've given it a great deal of thought. I grew up with these men. They will not believe me. They have faith in Papa, you see. Years of loyalty. They won't just take the word of a young princess. I need actual proof backing up my accusations."

Loki understood what she meant and a horrified expression crossed his pale face.

"You want me to show them your memories?"

"You can project an illusion-like recounting of what really happened between my father and me throughout these years."

"Maeve, I can't-"

"Yes, you can. And you must," she said urgently. "For Asmund."

"But those are your nightmares!"

"I'll get through it," Maeve muttered, although the idea of showcasing her worst memories terrified the princess beyond belief. "You don't have to unless they don't believe me, but they most likely won't, so I thought I'd warn you."

Loki ran his hands down his face. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes. I trust you."

"Alright," he finally said.

Corey poked his head into the room, a traveling cloak thrown around his shoulders. "I'm about to leave with Papa. They're all gathered in the council room. I'll only be gone for a few hours, so please make them count."

"Thanks, Corey," Maeve said in a quiet voice.

He gave her a weak smile. "You've got this, Maeve. Just remember court manners and tell the truth. It'll be okay."

"Thank you," she said again, moving forward to embrace him. He held her tightly, then kissed her forehead and stepped back.

"Be strong, little sister."

*

The council room in the Vanaheim palace was one door down from the throne room. Massive windows lined the walls and a long wooden table sat in the center.

It wasn't often that Maeve graced the council with her presence. Her father always said that it wasn't in her place to be there for normal, day-to-day decisions. She sat in on war councils, of course, but all members of the royal family were expected to. Usually, she took notes. She hated that.

When Maeve entered the council room, Loki a few paces behind her, all ten delegates stood up out of respect. They represented different districts of the realm, from the lakes to the prairies to the capital itself. Each was handpicked by Frey, loyal to him for fear of losing their highly coveted positions and also because of his civility towards them.

"My lords," she greeted formally, giving a shallow curtsy out of obligation. She knew that any deviation from tradition would make this unnecessarily difficult, as they wouldn't feel inclined to take her seriously. "I come with a purpose that requires your approval."

"State your position," Lord Narvi, the governor of the Lakeland, said. To her immense relief, he spoke with kindness even though he too followed protocol.

"I am Princess Maeve Sigyn Freydottir of Asgard, born of Vanaheim, goddess of joy and compassion, sorceress of Asgard, daughter to King Frey of Vanaheim, and wife to Prince Loki of Asgard."

"And you," Lord Narvi said, directing his attention to Loki, "as you are here, you must also present yourself, even if you don't intend to speak."

Loki raised his eyebrows in mild annoyance but nodded. "I am Prince Loki of Asgard, god of mischief and lies, high sorcerer of Asgard, son to Allfather King Odin of Asgard, and husband to Princess Maeve of Asgard."

What a mouthful, he thought, allowing Maeve to hear his complaints telepathically. She smiled the slightest bit, his playful attitude putting her at ease.

"Good. And your reason for coming here today?" A faint crease appeared between Lord Narvi's bushy eyebrows. "We were not supposed to convene until the first of the month. Your brother summoned this gathering for you, specifically asking for our patience and for your father to be absent."

"Yes." Maeve made her hands lie still at her sides and took a deep breath. "I come with a request, my lords."

Many of them leaned forward, interested. It wasn't often that the young princess came to them with a problem. She tended to be the least problematic one in their family, maybe except for Asmund, but he was in prison now.

"And what would your request be, Your Highness?" Lord Fahim questioned.

"I would like to formally force my father to step down from his throne and let power pass to his heir, Asmund Freyson, the eldest in the next generation of the House of Frey."

Silence swept across the room. A few of the lords glanced at each other, mumbling concerns and queries. Maeve bit her lip and looked back at Loki, who nodded encouragingly.

You're doing just fine, flower.

It doesn't feel like it.

Keep going.

Another one of the lords, Lord Kadir, recovered first. He stroked his gray beard and said, "Princess, you must provide reasoning for such a serious proposal. We cannot vote to dethrone our king without just cause, no matter how much you wish your brother to be free. Do you have grounds for this?"

"I do."

He gestured. "Pray tell."

"Vanaheim laws dictate that there are many ways in which a sovereign would be forced to forfeit the throne." Her voice shook, but then steadied as she carefully slipped into her court facade, the emotionless mask she wore now. "I accuse my father, King Frey, of committing acts of violence without cause, as he spent many years of my life inflicting harm upon me undeservingly."

More silence. Maeve felt like she was going to throw up, or maybe even faint.

"This is a very serious accusation, Princess Maeve," Lord Narvi muttered, shaking his head.

"Forgive me, Your Highness, but the majority of us sitting around this table have watched you grow up," Lord Radford slowly. "We have known your father for twice your lifetime, my dear. This seems unlike him. If you are telling falsehoods in order release Prince Asmund from prison-"

"I'm not!"

Maeve could practically feel Loki's blood boiling. Great. The last thing she needed was for her husband to lose his infamous temper with the council.

"That's a quite hasty answer."

Lord Narvi put a warning hand on his shoulder. Maeve wondered if he was the only one on her side. "Radford, hear the girl out. As you said, we have watched her grow up. It will be quite a tragedy indeed if we failed to watch her closely enough in terms of her protection."

"Princess, do you have any evidence to back up your accusations?" questioned Lord Kadir. "We must be certain of our choices. A reputation is at stake. Are you willing to testify with your own memory, something that will remain truthful even when you are not?"

Maeve wrung her hands together behind her back. "Yes."

"You there!" Lord Radford called, snapping his fingers to a servant boy, who immediately bolted to attention. He scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. "Fetch us a sorcerer. Fetch Torsten. Give him this. It explains everything."

"That won't be necessary," Maeve said, worry splaying across her steadily paling face. "My husband is an accomplished sorcerer. He can project my memories for you."

"I don't question you integrity, Your Highness," he replied. "It's just that a matter like this requires an unbiased individual."

She felt her stomach churn uneasily. "I'd be more comfortable with Loki in my mind, my lord."

"Your comfort is not our concern. The truth is."

Hesitantly, Maeve nodded.

"I beg your pardon, but you should not speak to my wife that way."

Maeve's blue eyes widened and her head whipped around to look at Loki. She saw the fire in his expression and knew that his carefully-controlled anger was about to spill over.

Don't do this. Please.

He disrespected you!

Let me take care of it. They need to see that I can take care of myself.

"Your Highness, we can't break court practices just because a princess is uneasy about a stranger combing through her thoughts. This is how we would treat a common citizen, and we cannot treat her differently in the case of the law."

"This is a delicate topic, don't you see that?" Loki hissed, striding over to Lord Radford, who stood up and faced him.

"Loki, I can handle myself-" Maeve said quietly, but he ignored her. So much for letting me handle it.

"I do see that it's a delicate topic. I also think that it would be very easy for the story to be a ruse in order to let Asmund Freyson, a traitor, mind you, ascend the throne prematurely."

"Meaning you don't trust her?"

"Meaning I don't trust you," Radford sneered. Unlike most, the cold fury of Loki Odinson did not seem to concern him. "What kind of truthful testimony could the god of lies give? It doesn't bode well for the princess to be allied with someone of your reputation, Your Highness."

"What are you implying, Lord Radford?" Loki growled, his fists balling at his sides. Please no knives, please no knives, please no knives.

"That if the rumors are correct, you are the most heartless man in the nine realms and couldn't resist any chance to lie that comes your way. You'll do anything to cause a scandal, won't you, Prince? I've heard stories..."

"Why, you little-"

"That's enough!" Maeve yelled. Eleven startled pairs of eyes focused on her. There. That'll show them. "You're bickering like children!"

"I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness-"

"Sit down, Radford."

"Maeve, I'm sorry, but-"

"Sit down, Loki."

Anger flickered in his jade eyes, but thankfully, he obeyed. He'd never seen so much fury in her small form.

She couldn't believe how quickly things had derailed. Didn't he understand that by not letting her fight her own battles in front of the council, she seemed weak and unable to defend herself?

A middle-aged man entered the room. Maeve recognizes him as Torsten Jacson, one of the Vanir sorcerers whose main job was interrogation of prisoners. Her fingers subconsciously closed around the rose pendant on her mother's necklace, drawing comfort from the familiar warmth of magic on her fingertips. She could feel Loki's presence tapping at the edges of her mind, but she kept him out, not in the mood to talk with him again.

"Princess Maeve," the sorcerer said, giving a swift yet respectful bow. "Shall we begin?"

Maeve tugged nervously on a lock of hair, then nodded, letting out a long sigh.

"Have a seat. It will be more comfortable for you that way," Torsten said patiently. She did as he said, clasping her hands together under the table. Loki frowned. Even with her blocking him from her mind, he could feel her nerves buzzing uncontrollably. "I will just search your memories and project the ones that apply to your case. Alright?"

Maeve nodded, and Torsten took one of her hands in both of his.

Slowly, the story unfolded before the eyes of everyone in the room. What they saw deeply unnerved them. Years of bruises, alcohol, and hidden tears. Loki watched with them for a few minutes, but couldn't bear it any longer and turned away, choosing to stare out the window instead.

Throughout it all, Maeve stared at the projections in front of her, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. It was like watching all of the horrors in her life played out for the world to see. Torsten skipped around, never lingering on a particular memory for too long, but she felt the damage all the same.

One particular memory caught her attention and her eyes widened, a different kind of fear coursing through her.

"Please don't show that one," she mumbled frantically. Torsten hesitated, letting the memory freeze in place. The council looked upon the illusion of the princess, younger by a few years, dressed in a simple white gown and standing in a rainy garden. "Please."

Loki turned around, confused by her request. His gaze fell on the current memory and he froze.

"Your Highness, we have to view all of the evidence by law," Lord Narvi said gently. Pure revulsion was evident across his face. "I wish we didn't have to."

"Please," she begged. He can't know.

"We have to. I know this is painful for you, Princess, and I deeply apologize." Sighing heavily, the lord of Lakeland said, "please continue, Torsten."

Loki watched the scene play out with a stoic expression. No nostalgia flitted in his eyes as the rain poured down on Maeve or when the shoe went missing. No anger flashed across his face as a furious Frey took in the ragged appearance of his daughter and sent her out of the banquet hall for the remainder of the night. No emotions entered his perfectly calm face as Frey beat her with a rope because she brought him shame. He just stared.

After what felt like an eternity, Torsten set Maeve's hand on the tabletop and patted it gently, but she was in a trance-like state and didn't notice.

"Princess? Princess Maeve? Your Highness?"

She blinked, shedding the final few tears. "Yes?"

"Is that all you have to show us?"

Maeve stood shakily and took a step back. "No."

She turned around and let the shawl around her shoulders fall, revealing a host of scars across her back. Gasping and muttering increased, and Maeve took the moment to wipe a few tears from under her eyes. Most of those marks came from that night after the Harvest Ball in Asgard all those years ago. She wore the sleeveless dress on purpose, though she didn't tell anyone of that particular plan. Then, she turned around.

Loki looked stricken.

"I have now given you all of my evidence. I, Maeve Freydottir of Vanaheim, propose to remove my father, Frey of Vanaheim, from the throne of his realm on the grounds of committing acts of violence without cause," she whispered. "I now rely on you, my lords, to make the final decision."

Lord Narvi cleared his throat, glancing around with an uncomfortable expression on his face. "All in favor to remove Frey of Vanaheim from his throne and turn the realm over to Asmund of Vanaheim, his rightful heir?"

Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as ten hands raised into the air.

"Very well. We will inform your father of his new position. He will not be charged for his crimes and will remain in the palace as a member of your family. However, he will have no more power in the government than a common peasant. Your brother shall be released later today, and should he accept, be crowned king of Vanaheim in the near future."

Maeve curtsied again. There was no triumph in her heart, only pain and anger. "Thank you, my lords."

Then, without grabbing her shawl or waiting for Loki, she left.

hope you liked this chapter! it was definitely more serious than most that i've written. let me know what you thought :)

what's going to happen??

vote and comment please