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Zapolyarny Palace was just as it was when Loki had left all those years ago, but just lacking the usual warmth given to it, like something was missing. On his way to the gardens where he would usually find Demos, he is stopped, some guards questioning him and his purpose there. As he beings to explain who he is, a voice calls out.
“Hold on, boys, I’ll handle this. Her Majesty would like to see the previous Brighella.” He sees Zaria approaching, her movements lazy but calculated.
“Zari, Hell-“ He is interrupted halfway though his greeting by the blue haired woman.
“Save your words, Loki. Now follow me, we wouldn’t want to keep her Majesty waiting.” With that, Zaria, the new Brighella after him, turns on her heels and beings walking towards the garden.
Loki quickly follows, occasionally asking about how Pandemos has been, only getting harsher and harsher glares thrown his way by his adoptive granddaughter
Soon enough they reach one of the gardens, and oh, the garden is totally different from when he last saw it. Gone are the more wintery flowers, replaced by vibrant summer flowers, the only plants that haven’t changed are the large magnolia trees standing proud. The pavilion in the center was covered by gauzy curtains, swaying gently in the summer breeze. Though he frowns as he couldn’t spot Demos’s silhouette in the curtains.
“Zaria, what is going on? Where is my husband?” Loki asks, as Zaria stops in front of the curtains.
Zaria takes a breath. “You asked to see the Tsarista. I have brought you to see her.” She says bluntly
Loki just laughs, though he could feel an uncertain chill rolling down his back. Something has happened and no one is telling him anything (Does he even deserve to know after leaving?)
Zaria takes a breath, as if preparing herself as she grabs the edge of one of the curtains. “I, The Brighella, introduce you, Loki of the Masked Fools, to Our Lady of the Volga River, She who the Harbingers yield to, Snezhnaya’s greatest puppeteer, Queen of the Damned, Cursed, and Discarded, Lady of Nightmares and Dreams, Her Majesty, The Leto Tsarista - Eefje Vasilyeva-Oak.”
His granddaughter says as she pulls the curtain to the side. There, sitting in the spot Pandemos would usually sit, was a young girl, barely older then 15. She wore a deep red sarafan dress embroidered with golden threads in the shapes of ivy vines and morning glories, a silver kokoshnik tiara inlaid with yellow sapphires resting on her silvery hair. Lilac eyes, copies of Demos’s look up at him, cold and calculating as her left cat ear twitches lightly. “Welcome Home, Loki of Morgenzon.” Eefje, the Leto Tsarista says as she folds her hands on the table in front of her
Eefje takes a sip from her tea cup, watching Loki closely, spotting his fidgets and the similarities to her siblings own fidgets. Hmmm, his tail flicks like Fenny’s when agitated, good to know. She sets down her cup calmly and squares her shoulders as she looks at him. Honestly, she should feel something for this man, her only remaining parent. But….
She feels nothing for him. Nothing at all. Eefje just looks him over like he is a vaguely interesting bug, which is the best he will get from her. “So, what brings you back to Snezhnaya after all these years? It certainly couldn’t have been my family since you so easily left them before.” She says, folding her hands on her lap. She has to fight a smirk at his flinch. Good, let him feel the consequences of his actions. Since she has no care for him, she feels no shame in being his karma
Loki resisted the urge to bring out his pack of cards and start playing with them. He supposed he deserved that. "Hello... Eefjie, was it?" He began, his voice more uncertain than he'd like. He gave her a tentative bow. Morgenzonian, he recognised the nature of her name almost immediately. She was his, of that much he was certain. Those eyes were too identical to Pandemos, those cat features just like his own.
And yet he didn't have the faintest clue about a single aspect of her apart from her name. He almost wished he was dealing with Hel or Jörmungandr or Fenrir- atleast he knew them. Hell he'd even take Cecil at this point. "It wasn't as simple as that" he muttered under his breath, avoiding Eefjie's gaze. She was barely an adult and much smaller than him yet in this moment she felt much larger than she appeared.
She tilts her head slightly, eyes getting that twitch Demos had when having to act nice to those she disliked in public. “You do not have permission to use my name so personally. You will address me as Your Majesty or by any of my many titles.” She says, picking her tea cup again to take a long sip. She hums around the rim of the porcelain cup before lowering slightly. “Oh? I find it quite simple. You took the coward’s way of dealing with your grief. It’s only by my mother’s reminding love that she had for you until the moment she died that I haven’t had you dragged out of here.”
Loki winced, he knew that look. He knee that look so well. He'd seen it countless times and echoed it just as many. "Very well then" Loki found it was easier to control his voice when he acted formally "Your majesty, it is a pleasure to meet you" he stayed in that bow, it was less hesitant now, more showy like his usual ones. Loki sighed "I did, take the coward's way, yes. That I will not deny" he felt a pang of hurt at the mention of Demos "...She did?" His voice was a tentative whisper. "I thought she'd hate me" he admitted. And he certainly wouldn't blame her for it.
“I am sure she tried to hate you at one point. But if she did, she never showed it around me.” Eefje hums, raising her head slightly. “She waited for you everyday to return. Told me stories of you to try and make sure I knew who you were.” She just sighs, shaking her head slightly. “She always did have too soft of a heart.” She takes another sip from her cup, staring at him. She could see her papa’s spirit standing by Loki and felt a pang of pity for Sunday. Ah, her poor dear parents, falling for a coward who ran.