Chapter 66: Loki & Angelica Play A Game Of Thrones?
Chapter 66: Loki & Angelica Play A Game Of Thrones?
While Loki was living the chaotic, hedonistic life of a playboy protagonist in the arms of powerful women, his brother Thorin was experiencing a vastly different kind of torture.
Upon his tense return to Castle Albion, Thorin had been summoned directly to the private meeting room of Queen Angelica Cross. It was here, beneath the heavy weight of royal scrutiny, that his rocky new path in life would truly begin.
Queen Angelica remained silent, allowing her maid to finish serving tea before initiating the debriefing.
To her left sat Lana, tense and withdrawn. To her right, lounging on the lavish couch, was her son Vali. The meeting room itself was staggering in scale, easily matching the dimensions of an Earth high-school basketball gymnasium. Every detail exuded cold, calculated luxury. Black and white checkered tiles stretched across the floor, half-hidden beneath a deep purple rug that anchored two massive, facing leather couches. Six plush, single-person armchairs of identical design flanked the central seating area.
In the background, a ten-foot-tall fireplace roared with unnatural intensity, fueled by high-grade magical cores. It sounded less like a cozy hearth and more like a raging bonfire. Along the walls, portraits of the past few generations of Balder royalty hung in heavy frames, a stern homage to the bloodline. Three massive crystal chandeliers cast a dim, amber glow through the space. Despite the daytime hour, the room was perpetually shrouded in shadow, its single wide window choked by heavy black curtains.
As a 9th Circle Dark Mage, Angelica felt safest and most content in the dark. Her personality was a striking blend of gloomy introspection and sharp, magnetic charm. This perpetual twilight served a dual purpose: it acted as a psychological vice, making guests feel instantly uneasy and far more pliable to her intricate schemes. Only Vali, entirely desuetude to his mother’s environment, sat unaffected.
Opposite the Queen, Thorin sat with his back rigidly straight, fighting the plush cushions that threatened to swallow him whole. His hands rested nervously on his knees, palms slick with sweat. To his right, across from Lana, sat Mary Cross. To his left, directly across from Vali, was Angelica’s personal apprentice, Jane Roth.
Externally, Angelica maintained the flawless, charming smile of a mature monarch. Internally, she was utterly furious with the simpleton sitting across from her.
"So," Angelica began, her voice dropping to a dangerous, silky purr. "In conclusion... you lowered your guard while protecting my daughter—the very princess you swore an oath to shield. You allowed her to plunge into a bottomless abyss that most scholars have never even mapped, losing her for two entire weeks."
She paused, letting the silence fester.
"Then, after tirelessly tracking her, you found her simply camping in the woods with her summons, perfectly fine. You allowed her to publicly berate you for merely executing the orders I gave you. And finally..." Her blue eyes narrowed slightly. "...both my niece Mary and my apprentice Jane, whom I entrusted to your care, have returned from this expedition pregnant with your children. Tell me, Sir Thorin, should I expect to find that you have placed a bastard inside my daughter as well, and are simply covering it up?"
Despite the icy reprimand, a secret, predatory satisfaction bloomed within Angelica’s chest. She was ecstatic that both girls were pregnant. It was she who had subtly ordered them to seduce Thorin; his genetics were flawless, a rare lineage guaranteed to produce magnificent Mage children. In the high circles of magical nobility, such traits were the exact justification for maintaining extensive harems.
Furthermore, Lana was safe. Had the girl perished in the Secret Realm, King Owen—that impulsive idiot—would have executed Vali out of sheer, spiteful grief, regardless of whether Angelica had a hand in it. Angelica had never plotted the death of Vali’s royal rivals; she preferred the clean, absolute leverage of legalities to pave her son's path to the throne. But if Owen’s prized daughter had died, Vali would have followed her to the grave.
For that reason alone, Angelica had always treated Lana with a baseline of dignity, even attempting to orchestrate a high-tier match for her with a knight like Thorin.
Suddenly, Angelica’s 9th Circle senses caught a microscopic shift—a micro-expression, a nervous twitch passing simultaneously over Thorin and Lana’s faces.
Things were slipping off-script. Angelica leaned forward. "Lana. Who exactly were you with during those two weeks away from Sir Thorin? You know precisely what happens when you attempt to lie to me."
Lana remained silent. She crossed her arms tightly beneath her breasts, turning her face away toward the shadows.
"It was Count Loki Sky, wasn't it?" Angelica pressed, her voice sharp. "Your father forbade you from meeting him when you debuted. What happened out there?"
As she spoke, Angelica caught a telling detail: Lana’s hand instinctively drifted toward her lower abdomen. A cold dread flooded the Queen's mind as the political implications crystallized. But beneath the dread lay a brutal opportunity. If her hunch was correct, she could strip Lana of her title. The "Princess" would be reduced to a lowly "Countess" of the isolated North Duchy.
Her alluring blue eyes swept across the trio sitting opposite her. "Sir Thorin, Lady Mary, Lady Jane. The three of you are dismissed. We will discuss your impending marriages tomorrow. Leave us. I must speak with my children in private."
Cold sweat poured down Thorin’s spine as he stood up, though a sense of awe washed over him. His brother Loki had predicted this exact outcome verbatim. It seemed the marriage was already a done deal.
Just as the three shuffled out, the heavy double doors swung open, cutting off their exit. Another woman stepped into the room, casually closing the doors behind her.
Angelica’s smile instantly vanished. It was Leandra—a playful, unabashedly perverse Elf, and one of distinctly low birth among her own kind.
"What are you doing in my home, Leandra?" Angelica hissed.
Leandra ignored the Queen entirely, striding toward the couch with a bright, mocking spark in her eyes. "Lana, dear! Is what your father told me actually true?"
Angelica’s heart constricted. Her instincts screamed that she had lost the initiative; Owen had clearly hidden Lana's true situation from her, but had blabbered to this elven woman.
"About what, Queen Mother?" Lana asked softly.
Leandra beamed, thoroughly enjoying the sudden stiffness in Angelica’s posture. "That Sir Loki has been confirmed to possess three active elements? Air, Life, and now Fire?"
"It’s true, Queen Mother," Lana confirmed, her voice gaining strength. "He even engineered a localized blue flame that incinerated over a hundred Elves trying to assassinate him. And he summoned a Nine-Tails Fox—the legendary one Father was hunting. Her name is Baihu, I believe."
Three active elements? Not two?
For the first time in decades, Angelica found herself utterly speechless. Alarm and confusion warred in her chest. A sinking feeling took root; it felt as though Loki Sky was actively playing a grand game, hiding his depth so profoundly that every move she made was already anticipated.
"Oh, my~!" Leandra cooed, clapping her hands together. "And Lana, darling, is it also true that Sir Loki rescued you when you fell into that terrifying abyss?"
Lana, entirely unaware of the complex political trap her father and Angelica had been weaving, felt a fierce blush creep up her neck. She nodded shyly.
"My goodness. Did you two fall in love? Did you kiss?"
Lana’s eyes widened. Sensing that her birth mother was actively picking a fight with Queen Angelica, she leaned into the narrative. "Count Loki had to... administer medicine using his mouth. I was on the verge of death. But he took care of me. He was a perfect gentleman."
Leandra didn't actually know the intimate details of the romance; her husband Owen had been entirely vague, weeping incoherently about losing his daughter to a rogue knight's charms.
"So, Loki was a good kisser, then?" Leandra teased.
Lana nodded quickly before realizing she had been baited. She vigorously shook her head in denial, but the deep crimson flushing her face and neck exposed the truth.
"Lana, dear," Leandra said, her voice dropping to a casual, conversational tone. "Is your baby a boy or a girl?"
"What?! The Diagnosis spell can’t determine that yet!" Lana snapped.
A sudden, sharp slap echoed through the room as Lana instantly clapped both hands over her mouth. The realization hit her like a physical blow: she had just openly admitted to premarital sex and pregnancy directly in front of Angelica and Vali.
With a soft squish, Leandra dropped onto the couch beside Lana, pulling the trembling girl into a fierce, protective maternal hug. Internally, Leandra was stunned. Loki had actually taken her casual jokes seriously and thoroughly claimed the princess.
"Calm down, honey," Leandra murmured, stroking her hair. "Do you love Count Loki?"
"More than life itself," Lana sniffled, burying her face in her mother's shoulder. "Please don't let him get into trouble... He is so good to me, Mother."
Consoling her daughter, Leandra looked up, her gaze shifting to Angelica. Her voice carried a calculated blend of maternal fierce and political defiance.
"Then I will make the executive decision for you. You will marry into Count Loki’s household. You will lose your status as a Princess and live merely as a Countess. Is that acceptable to you?"
"I don't care about the title," Lana whispered, wiping her nose. "I don't care at all."
"The kingdom will find out you are a Half-Elf, and my biological daughter," Leandra warned, her eyes locked on the Queen. "It might bring political complications to Loki’s doorstep."
"Loki loves me for exactly who I am. I don't care if the entire kingdom knows."
Leandra laughed, a rich, triumphant sound. "My silly, beautiful girl. You may be a Half-Elf, but you are carrying a child of the royal bloodline, sired by a triple-element Mage-Knight Summoner. Your child will undoubtedly become a historically unprecedented powerhouse. A true monster of a Mage."
Angelica felt a cold sweat break out on her palms. Something was profoundly wrong. This elven woman wasn't cowering; she was actively calling her blackmail bluff.
"You wouldn't dare," Angelica said, her voice dropping an octave. "You wouldn't actually expose eighteen years of dirty laundry and reveal to the kingdom that we lied about her lineage."
Leandra pulled Lana to her feet, smoothing down her skirts as they prepared to depart. She offered a casual, elegant shrug.
"Why wouldn't I? I’m about to secure Loki Sky as my son-in-law. Why should I care about my temporary dignity? You and Vali should throw a celebration. Lana will no longer contest the princess title; she’s moving up north to live with her husband and raise extraordinary children."
Leandra turned back toward the doors, guiding Lana out. "Just call me Mother from now on, darling. Your father already agreed that I hold the final authority over your marriage. Thank you for housing my baby all these years, Angelica. Despite living under the shadow of this shame for so long, you were an adequate foster mother. Goodbye."
As Angelica watched her carefully constructed leverage evaporate, Leandra performed a small, parting gesture before stepping through the threshold.
She raised her hand and offered a casual wave with her backhand.
It was a highly specific, arrogant gesture. A wave explicitly associated with one man: Loki Sky.
The doors clicked shut. Vali, completely misreading the room, let out a loud, boisterous laugh. "This is a flawless victory! Not only is Lana degraded to a mere northern Countess, but they’re going to expose their own scandal. We didn't even have to threaten them, haha!"
Angelica’s hand twitched with the violent urge to slap her son into the floorboards. "You absolute idiot," she breathed, her voice trembling with suppressed rage.
Vali’s laughter died in his throat. "What?"
"For over seven hundred years, I have meticulously studied the reproductive mechanics of Mages to engineer the strongest possible offspring," Angelica snarled, turning on him. "When I finally cracked the code—the exact eight-to-ten-hour ovulation window—I practically had to drug your father just to conceive you. A male Mage. A high-tier Death Healer designed to inherit this throne. Yet Lana, without a shred of effort, has conceived the child of a triple-element Mage-Knight. Do you honestly think you, with your mediocre talent, can hold a candle to their offspring? Let alone to Loki Sky himself, who is on track to completely surpass your father?"
Vali’s face paled. His lack of exceptional cultivation talent was a permanent sore spot, a reality he constantly masked with his father’s prestigious name and primary element.
"So what?" Vali muttered defensively. "I am the only recognized male heir who can take the throne. Her child will carry the name Sky, not Balder."
Angelica closed her eyes, exhaling a long, exhausted sigh. "The Royal Bloodline is the only requirement to claim the throne, Vali. The name Balder is merely a formality. I have begged you to cultivate, to force yourself to grow stronger. Instead, Lana has already closed the gap and surpassed you, even summoning a literal Valkyrie just like her father."
She stepped closer, her shadow magic swirling faintly around her robes. "If Lana were to publicly challenge you to a duel for the succession right now, she would utterly humiliate you. If you were forced to call upon a Knight to act as your Champion because you cannot fight your own battles, the entire Elven diplomatic corps would laugh us out of the continent. You have not been officially granted the moniker of Crown Prince yet. Owen can still replace you."
Vali stood up, his bravado entirely shattered. "But Mom... you’re the only local human wife Father has. None of his other concubines have the political backing to replace me."
"I had to catch your father in a rare, vulnerable moment just to have you, Vali. Owen does not trust me anymore. He actively avoids my food, my drinks, and my quarters. Do you honestly believe I can trick him into my bed again within your lifetime? You are blind. There are hundreds of high-tier Mage women across the continent begging for his favor. If he loses patience with your laziness, he will take ten new wives, host a series of massive court ceremonies, and banish you to some irrelevant northern principality to rot."
Vali sank back into the leather couch, visibly trembling. "How... how do we stop him from doing that?"
Angelica brought a manicured thumbnail to her lips, her mind racing through thousands of political permutations. The logical answer was for Vali to break his reliance on luxury and train until his veins bled, but she knew she had spoiled him far too deeply for that to happen overnight.
Her brilliant blue eyes flashed with a sudden, predatory shadow magic. "I need to keep Lana anchored to this household. We cannot allow her secret to alienate her from us. If I can manipulate events to position myself as the matriarch who facilitated her marriage to Loki, and ensure you two remain fiercely close... Owen will not seek to replace you. He will view you as the indispensable uncle and protector of Lana's legendary lineage."
She turned gracefully, her long robes sweeping the checkered tile floor as she marched toward the exit.
"Where are you going?" Vali called out.
"I need to intercept Owen immediately," Angelica replied, her pace quickening. "I must convince him to suppress the royal scandal. I need to regain control of this board."
She reached the threshold, raising her hand to wave back at her son to stay put. But the moment her hand moved, she froze mid-step.
She was executing a backhanded wave.
A cold sweat broke out across Angelica’s collarbone. Her heart skipped a violent beat. The realization hit her like a physical blow—the gesture was entirely subconscious, a subliminal imprint left behind by Leandra and, by extension, Loki.
It didn't feel like she was choosing her next moves. It felt like she was a chess piece being neatly guided down a pre-determined path by a master strategist. Shaking her head violently to dispel the eerie sensation, Angelica threw open the doors and sprinted into the corridor, desperate to make her move before Loki's trap snapped entirely shut.
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