Chapter Text
Aldwinter, England. 1884.
“I am sorry to say it, but you have consumption. And it is fatal.”
You froze in your bed. The doctor shook his head. Your heart picked up and you felt a lump in your throat- and this time it wasn’t blood to cough out.
“I know it’s bad news to hear before your wedding, but it’s true and you must know it, Miss Y/N,” the doctor continued.
You looked down at your shaking hands. Your jaw hung open.
“You’ll tell my parents…and Will, won’t you?” you asked.
You prayed it wasn’t so. That you weren’t losing your appetite because of sickness but something else. Any other sickness- any other! Just nervous about your engagement and wedding to the local vicar, nothing more. That you were just breathing hard from too much anxiety. You figured perhaps a bad cold as you grew weaker last week. Then Will himself was permitted to roll up his sleeves and press a cold cloth to your forehead, maybe you had influenza. But when you coughed out blood- you might as well have seen your own coffin.
The Doctor nodded.
“I’ll tell your family and the Reverend Ransome. They need to know. I’m sorry, but there is little else to do now but…settle your affairs and wait.”
You lay in that bed. The world spinning around you. Those two words- I’m dying. I’m dying, floating in you.
Good Lord, already about to die! And there was so much! What about the wedding? You were about to live here as a vicar’s wife- how could you die now?
You could hear the crying from downstairs when the doctor announced it.
Dying is quiet. Dying is lonely. Even dull. The most excitement you had was going to the living room and looking out the window. The season had changed to spring. The sun shone out more and beautiful flowers flourished. But you could not go out and smell or even pick one. Out to the countryside, and the white buildings. And the white church- where once it would be your wedding and, in a way, a second home post-marriage. Now it only stood as a reminder of the only ceremony you’d be involved in next was a funeral. When it became too much, you would move back to your bedroom. To your sickbed-your deathbed.
You lay in that bed looking up at Will as he paced about in his black sweater that afternoon.
“What is it? Is it me?” you asked.
“There’s…there’s going to be a dance tonight…” he announced.
You shrugged in your bed and then made a little laugh.
“Oh, Will! Go on and go! Dance away! Have a little fun for a while!”
“But if you should die?”
“I’m sure Father will get you! Go charm all the ladies like you do in your fine suit! Dance with them! Dance with Stella, Violet, Clara- Go dance with Cora, even!” you said.
“Are…are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes! Go dance with the new widow and enjoy yourself for a night!” you encouraged.
He nodded, said his goodbyes, and then left.
Each day, you wanted to cry from watching out the window. Taking it all in- each minute getting closer to the last as your body shook with every bloody cough.
Hours became days. Days became weeks.
Oh, how little you took for granted! The beautiful sloping hills! The sound of the ocean right by the town! To never watch the flowers bloom in spring! To never watch the snow when it drifted down or complain about the summer heat. To never see another Christmas or Easter or any celebration ever again!
You saw walking by the people you got to know and love. Yes, even Mrs. Cora Seaborne- she moved in with her tiny son not long after your engagement. You could see her grey cloak and the way she turned her chin up in pride when she passed by other ladies, going about her “experiments” without a corset on. You heard her talk about her dislike of wearing them-even though you knew corsets were perfectly functional and comfortable. Did she know you didn’t have to tight lace? That you had to wear a slip beneath it? You saw women bike with them and pictures of female athletes with them. So why couldn’t she?
You took note of every teary visit from friends, family, and neighbors who heard. But not to see them- nor any of your other friends…Then oh! You wouldn’t see your closest friend! Dear Stella! To never see her smiling in her garden again! To never more help add to her collection of blue items! To count them in her little brown boxes! Her stones and pillows and flowers and spools and go over the most interesting gossip in the town with her! You took note of any personal blue items you had to be left to her after you were gone.
But you would watch her go about, waving to you. You would watch and observe anyone else passing by your town from that window for hours.
Since your diagnosis, you have been left alone often. Your parents slept over at a neighbor’s house. There were visitors, but they did not stay long. The risk of infection, they said. You spent your days isolated, dressed in your nightgown and tea robe, your engagement ring glittering on your finger.
But there was one sight you were not used to seeing.
A stray black cat. No one went up to claim him as their pet. Many people shrugged it off. Some smiled at it and then walked that way.
You were not used to seeing stray cats in Aldwinter. One would think it was a common sight. There were farms and wildlife. People kept pets. Even your fiancée took his dog out to frolic around. But a stray cat wandering around? No, everyone knew to keep their pets inside. Lest they be taken by a large bird of prey or wander out into the wild for all sorts of nasty things to happen to them.
Beneath your blankets on your cushion, you couldn’t help but notice the black cat on the street. You leaned closer to the window to where your breath fogged the glass. A smaller black cat- lean but shiny in his fur. He had big green eyes and long whiskers. He looked around. He liked to go up to people and follow them. Sometimes he stared and meowed at people. He would wander away and then return. Often, he looked at you from your window.
The poor cat. It hadn’t eaten anything all day. It must have been starving.
You went over to the set that had your tea. There was a saucer full of milk. Slow but constant, you walked over to the kitchen to a bowl. You poured the milk in it. Then you walked outside.
“Here kitty-kitty,” you urged, offering the bowl. Clicking your tongue to lure the cat closer.
With a cheerful meow, the cat trotted up to you. He raised his tail straight up in friendliness. He sat down and began to lick the milk. Each little scoopful from the pink tongue that shot from his soot-colored face. But his loud purrs could not lie. You went back into the house. When you returned, you had a small plate with scraps of meat. The plate was filled up, especially since your appetite lowered with the consumption.
“I think you might be hungry too,” you said.
The cat meowed in response and began to eat the meat. Then he went up to you, rubbing against your legs and purring. Then he stretched up his front paws against your skirt. Full of fondness, he blinked slowly at you. You leaned down and found he let you pick him up. A feral cat wouldn’t let you do that-then was he an abandoned pet?
“Oh, poor little thing!” you cooed, settling him to rest over your shoulder like a baby.
He continued to purr, not struggling to get out. Then he curled up like a baby in your arms.
“You’re a sweet fellow, aren’t you? And quite handsome too!” you cooed.
You scratched the top of his head.
“I’ll make sure to feed you. Or maybe you could stay with me …” you offered.
He perked up, eyes intent on you.
“I’m not sure what Will would think of a cat staying with us- you’ll have to share with a dog. Maybe I could talk to him about it. You could live with us once we’re married…” you spoke out loud to the cat.
Then a cough rattled your body, you lifted an arm to it. Then when you lowered it, you saw blood on the sleeve.
That is…if you lived to be married at all.
You set the cat down and he hopped. Then he stood and looked at you, slowly blinking. Then, with a lifted tail, he trotted away. So much for having him in the house- but at least then it wouldn’t reek of cat excrement.
The cat did not return throughout the night or the next morning. Perhaps he was exploring the wild. But you left a bowl of milk and some meat scraps in the kitchen just in case. But the further the day went, the weaker you felt. Then you realized it was a struggle to get out of bed-your weakness tripled today. Your body burned with a fever, but you stayed beneath your blankets. You coughed out constantly into a handkerchief. And when you took it out, you saw blood in a puddle in the cloth. Your own life trickling out with every drop. You laid back down on the bed, but despite your exhaustion, you were unable to sleep. To think this was it. You were going to die now. This was the end and you wouldn’t be comfortable and surrounded by those you loved. You would be alone.
Then you heard a sound.
A meow.
Turning your head up, you saw the black cat. The same one. And you kept your door shut.
“How’d you get in here?” you welcomed, though the sound came out like a wheeze.
Then you laid back down, giving into another bloody coughing fit into your handkerchief.
Then a voice- smooth, rich, lilting, and familiar spoke.
“Why, it’s just too bad, isn’t it?”
You paused. Then you began to turn your head around. You saw no soul save the black cat sitting on the floor.
“Will?”
Silence.
“Who’s there?! Who?” you called out.
There was a flash of green light. It was so bright you squeezed your eyes shut. But when you opened before you was a man.
A man who wore the strangest clothes you ever saw- green and black robes and pants made of leather and bits of hard gold armor around it. Even something like coattails draped behind his legs. But you couldn’t deny he was the most beautiful man you laid eyes on- ivory-skinned and raven hair that fell to his shoulders. A high forehead and cheekbones with soft blue eyes.
“Hello there, Y/N,” he greeted.
You pulled up your blankets to your chest- a man seeing you in only your nightgown? You might as well have been naked!
“Is…is this a joke?! Is someone playing tricks on me?!” you turned around. Maybe an old friend would pop out of a door and cry “Surprise!” No one did.
“Oh, I may be a trickster, but it’s no joke…” he replied.
“How did you turn into a cat?”
“Being a magician and god of mischief has its perks,” he replied.
“A-a god?! I thought there was only one God!” you repeated incredulously.
“Well- let me introduce myself. I am Loki, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard.”
Your grip on the blankets grew tighter. You felt yourself run cold despite your fever.
“This…this is a dream,” you dismissed.
He half-smiled.
“I may look like a lady's dream- but no, Y/N my dear- this is quite real,” he answered
“Have…have I been praying to the wrong deity this whole time!?” you cried.
He sauntered two steps closer to you.
“I don’t usually receive prayers. But I hear yours- yours are pretty clear…” he said.
He looked down at the bloodied handkerchief in your hand. In one corner were more handkerchiefs- all full of blood.
“You are dying.”
“Never heard that before,” you scoffed.
He smiled at your words and then continued.
“You will die very soon. Maybe in a week. Maybe in a day.”
He looked down at your hand, cocking an eyebrow at the shining ring on your finger.
“And it’s far too bad the Lusty Vicar of Aldwinter will never have his bride! A perfect lady to the perfect priest for his perfect ministry in a perfect town and a perfect life.”
“What do you want from me!?” you prodded.
He tilted his head, keeping his smile.
“Is this how you speak to someone trying to help you?”
You clutched the blankets further over your nightgown.
“Help me?! You’re here for my-my-my body! I heard all the stories of pagan gods like Zeus! I know what they do to mortal women!”
He chuckled. “I am a Norse deity, darling. And your vicar- this Will Ransome- is far more of a Zeus than I am.”
“What are you talking about? Whatever! It doesn’t matter- Loki, Do I have to sleep with you to save myself?”
He smirked.
“How very tempting. But no.”
"You wouldn’t make this without wanting something for yourself!” you spat.
With a flick of his wrist, he moved a chair in your room to scoot forward by your bedside.
“I am only here to help you- like I said. You know I have the magic to do so. I just turned from a cat to a rather handsome bloke resembling your dear Lusty Vicar right before your eyes, hmm? Have you thought of what else I could do?”
“What can you do?” you asked.
His eyes widened as he sat down to see you, looking into your eyes. He kept his mischievous smile on his face.
“I can heal you.”
“Completely?!” you cried.
“Yes, my dear Y/N. You gave me your milk and food. So, consider it as a thank-you for your generosity.”
Though you leaned forward, you paused. These things were often too good to be true. You would not be fooled. And if he was really a fairy, like some say would wander about the forests- this would have a price. One did not enter a deal with them lightly.
“What is the price? This cannot be freely given,” you dismissed.
He nodded his head in acknowledgment of your words.
“Ah, someone who knows the way this works, I see. As if I ever doubted you. The spell, to go through and heal the person…the healed person must live with the spellcaster for one week out of the month.”
You crinkled your nose.
“Live with a man? I might as well be your whore!” You accused.
His smile never faded.
“Perhaps that’s what they’d say of you- but at least you would be a healthy whore,” he quipped back.
You felt a cough trickle through your throat and you swallowed it back to ask him further.
“Where do you live?”
“In another realm, in Asgard- it’s rather like your time and place. Same old-fashioned attitudes about women. Only with much larger castles and higher buildings. But you will be safe and soundly returned to your world and wait for the next month.”
“Does it have to be every month? Could it be every year?”
“It must be every month.”
You tried to sit up. Then you felt his hands position you to sit up-leaning against the headboard. You glanced at him, seeing his features grow gentle about helping you. Then you crossed your arms and shot him with a glare. You would not lower your defenses to him easily- even if he was some kind of magical god!
“Make it three days! No- one!” you insisted.
Loki shook his head.
“It is one week. Or you can kiss your life and your precious priest goodbye.”
You took in a shuddering breath. Your own lungs weakened by the seconds, and it sounded like a wheeze.
“No one’s going to believe me! What shall Will think? What will my parents or his think?” you fretted.
“Why do you care what Will thinks-what anyone thinks? Your own thoughts should be what matters. What do you think, Y/N? It is your choice…would you like to die of consumption? Or live your life as normal and planned…and just take a little trip every month.”
You coughed again. Again, there was blood. You crumpled the handkerchief into your fist, never lowering your eyes off his.
“How will…anyone believe me? How am I going to explain this to them?” you fretted.
“You will tell them the truth…”
You lowered your hands, grabbing your blanket into a fistful.
“That I’m living with a man from another world?! Other than the one supposed to be my husband?! Go to hell, scoundrel!” you cursed.
“Such talk from a Victorian lady! Much less one betrothed to a Holy man!” Loki chuckled.
“Sounds like you've never talked to a woman before. Even ladies can fight back when we have to!” you argued.
“If you wish it- such a pity I offered to save your life and you couldn’t accept it. Oh, well- it is your fate and your decision…” Loki said.
He got up from the chair. A swirl of green light began to swirl, starting from his boots and going up, up. He was already beginning to fade.
You rattled. You could feel life slipping out of you. Minute by minute. Slow and painful. You would never enjoy life in its simple beauty again. You would never see your family again. You would never see your friends again.
And you would never marry Will. And he would be alone, left to mourn you for all his days.
You didn’t want to die like this.
And for Will…for Will, you would sell the clothes on your back. This was the unbridled nature of love. For Will, you would walk across hot coals. For Will, you would jump into the ocean near the town. And for Will, you would make this deal with this devil.
“Wait!” you shouted, lifting a hand to stop him.
The green swirls dropped, melting like mist in the sunshine. Loki turned to you, his head tilted and his eyes with a glint in them.
“Do the spell. Make it happen. I’ll stay with you for a week every month,” you said.
He smiled.
“Excellent.”
He walked forward. Then he opened his large, white hand.
“Give me your hands, Y/N, my dear. This might hurt for a bit,” he warned.
He returned to the chair by your side. You reached over and eagerly grabbed his hands with both of yours. He closed his eyes. Green light surrounded him and over you. It filled and surrounded your room in an emerald glow. There was a sound of roaring wind that filled your ears. Pain seared your body and you let out a shout out of instinct. It filled up your body- surging from your forehead and toes until it centralized to your lungs.
But it was only for a few seconds.
Then it stopped.
Loki was still smiling as the green light swirled down to you and faded with the pain. Taking in a breath, it was deep and free from pain. You felt no urge to cough, and your limbs did not feel weak. Your head had cleared.
When you glanced down at your hands, they each had a black mark on them- a small star. When you tried to rub them off, they remained. It wasn’t ink.
“What’s this?” you asked.
Loki folded his arms and shrugged.
“You didn’t ask! But I shall explain- a reminder of the spell and your promise. But I see that the lovely color of your face has returned! Now…can you get up?” he asked.
You found you got out of bed easily. Your belly rumbled for want of food- your appetite had returned. You breathed in deep-your lungs as normal again. When you took a glance in the mirror of your vanity, you saw that indeed your face looked as it had before you fell sick. Loki walked over to look at your reflection too, just from behind you.
“How do you feel?” Loki asked, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear.
“Like…like myself again…” you dazed, astonished at the transformation.
You turned around to see him. He was only inches away from your face. Then, just as any gentleman, he took your hand and kissed you right on the star. You hated how flustered and giddy it made you feel.
“Wonderful. My job here is done. I shall see you in a month, Y/N darling…” Loki promised.
He became a gleam of green light and then vanished.
Like a newborn fawn, you became used to having strength in your legs. You stretched them. You got dressed in your normal clothes- a shift, corset, petticoats, bustle, and a green dress. Then got to the kitchen. You found you were hungry again. You boiled a kettle for tea and began to pick off fruit from the bowl. Then you selected a slice of bread and ate it with the fruit, as well as gulped down all your tea. Not a crumb or sip was left.
There was a knock on the door and in walked your parents. They lowered their jaws to see you sitting at the dining table with the empty platter.
“Y/N! Why aren’t you back in bed?” your father asked.
“I feel…I feel…I feel fine. I feel good,” you said.
They ran to you. Your father pressed a hand to your forehead and felt that it was cool. He stayed with you as your mother fetched the old doctor. After he examined you, his jaw dropped. He took off his glasses, polished them with his jacket, and then put them back on. He re-examined you and then turned to your parents, his face turning white with shock.
“There’s no cure for consumption. But all her symptoms. They vanished. We’ll keep an eye on her but…she is a healthy woman.”
“Surely, you gave her no medicine without telling us!” Your mother cried.
“No…none!” he said, taking off his glasses again in shock.
“Oh, it’s a miracle! Please- someone fetch Reverend Ransome from his duties! He must know this!” your mother cried as she reached over and hugged you.
Your father hugged you too.
“Why- just in time for the wedding next month!” he said with a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. But out of joy, not sadness this time.
They released their hugs and buzzed about to announce the news. The three words repeated out of all of them like excited parrots.
“It’s a miracle!”
Looking down, you saw the black stars on both of your hands. You would wait until the time was right. The time to explain the price that came with your miracle.