Odin had always been a harsh man.  He learned it from his father— endlessly correcting and criticizing their boys due to the misplaced belief that it made them stronger.  Thor handled the constant reprimanding better than Loki.  How many times had he complained to his wife that Loki’s “need for affirmation” was a weakness?  Even now, watching his son disappear into the hall, he could hear the words Frigga had said over and over:

“Just talk WITH him rather than AT him!”

She was right.  She was always right.  Would a simple “job well done, son” have been so hard?  Wanting to hear those words did not make Loki weakー just different from his brother, nothing more.  His second son wasn’t motivated by someone bashing him over the head every other minute, so he pushed back, he acted out.  Perhaps Odin shouldn’t have nicknamed him Mischief—perhaps Rightful Revenge would have been more appropriate.  Odin had never been so angry with himself as right now.  For heaven’s sake, it had taken an overextended nap to see the truth.  Guilt washed over him, and he shook from the force of it.

During the Odinsleep his eyes were closed, but he could still see.  He watched Loki take the throne.  He watched him listen to complaint after complaint, attend dull council meeting after dull council meeting.  He watched him lead an army.  He watched Thor break the bridge.  He watched his poor boy cling to the end of Gungnir, and fall into darkness.  He watched that heart- shattering funeral.  The people had come to adore him in a very short time, and rightfully so.  Loki had been exhausted, yet he’d been attentive, merciful…. sacrificial.

Then there was the woman he loved, who nearly died while protecting two Asgardian royals, to whom she owed nothing, from Laufey.  Not only that, but even with a gaping hole in her stomach, Sigyn had grit her teeth and run head first into battle, fighting hundreds of Jotuns when the Hawks were losing ground.  Odin watched her, bloodied and bruised and broken, cling to the other end of that spear.  All the way from his useless bed, he heard her screaming for help.  He watched the girl’s face as Loki died right before her eyes.  Odin watched her limp back down the scattered with corpses bridge.  He watched her bend over every few yards or so to cauterize a wound on an injured soldier.  He watched her find Loki’s horse in the stables, and oh that had broken his already broken heart into smaller pieces.  He watched Sinir cry into her shoulder.  Odin didn’t know horses even could cry.

Surely every single thing was a reminder of Loki, but rather than go into hiding in her grief, which would have been completely justifiable, Sigyn worked.  She aided the healers, the clean up, the funerals, the inventory, and the rebuilding efforts.  She befriended Heimdall and became the strength Frigga needed, even though she probably didn’t realize she was doing so.  What a wonderful, beautiful, self-sacrificing young woman.  Why had he thought so lowly of her?  Because she’d accidentally injured Sif?—what a pathetic excuse for his cruelty.  Oh the irony of having one working eye but being completely blind in both….

Face draining of all blood, he watched Frigga’s chamber doors slam shut behind Loki, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.  He couldn’t lose his boy.  Not again.  Swiping a tear from his cheek with the back of one hand, he actually shoved Thor off of him with the other and charged after his second son.

Hands over her mouth, Frigga watched him go, and when Thor started after them, she lunged forward, yanking him back by his arm. “You are not a part of this,” she warned him, eyes stern.

“But-”

She stopped him with a look, and he dropped his eyes, nodding once.

“Will Loki be okay?” Gamora asked, trying to control the shaking of her voice.  Knowing what she did from Loki sleep talking in his cell, she was more scared of Odin hurting him than she was scared of Thanos.  Okay, that was a touch hyperbolic, but still.

Jaw tight, Sigyn spoke through her teeth. “He better be.”

---

Oh this was a horrendous mistakeーLoki should have teleported to his chambers to avoid this maddening horde.  By Hel, the east wing of the royal corridor was positively swarming with palace workers and soldiers.  Some of them cried out “Prince Loki?!” and reached out to touch him, while the wiser ones shrunk away from this ghost storming through the halls.  What had he been thinking?  Oh right.  He’d needed to burn off at least some of the pain.  Right now, he felt no anger toward Odin.  No, everything just hurt as he shoved his way forcefully through what increasingly felt like a mob closing in on him.  He was most certainly not used to this almost obsessive attention.  What was with all these grabby hands?!  Thankfully, he made it to the south wing in one piece, and with all his clothes.  Blasting through the doors of his chambers, he kicked them shut behind him.

I have to get off this planetー It hit him right between the eyes…. a sudden urge to return to Earth.  Stark Tower Two.  Coffee.  Pizza.  Tight pencil skirts and stilettos.  Warm Los Angeles breezes.  Strangers with zero preconceived notions or expectations of him.  Music that transported him to a higher dimension better than an entire stockpile of enders.  He had a bucket list and going to a hard rock concert with Sig and his new avenging friends was on it.  Let everyone else deal with Thanos.  Let Asgard burn.  He wasn’t Asgardian anyhow.

He twisted one wrist, and two small cross body satchels appeared on his bed.  Another twist, and extra clothes for himself and Sigyn shot out of the dressing room and flew straight into the bags.  The stables weren’t far, and she would know to meet him at Sinir’s stall through the bond.  Just as he slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to teleport himself the Hel out of there, the doors flew open.  He looked up, expecting to see Sig, or maybe his mother.  He was wrong.  Oh no, oh no, he was so wrong.  He was so very wrong.

“Loki?”

Odin’s voice was so soft, and it kicked Loki right in the solar plexus.  What in all the nine was he supposed to say?  He’d thought of a thousand words to say to this man while he’d been locked up, alone and starving.  Alone and dying.  But now for the life of him, he couldn’t remember any of them.  Fingers fiddling absently with the strap of his bag, he looked down at his boots.  He couldn’t meet his father’s one good eye.  What if he saw anger clouding the blue?  What if he saw hate?  What if he saw disappointment?ーhe absolutely could not handle any more godsdamn disappointment.

“Loki, my boy?”

Do NOT call me that.  Don’t make me believe you CARE.  Please please please don’tー A small crack appeared in his iced over heart, a sudden chink in the armor he’d worn for hundreds of years.

“Loki, my boy, listen to me.  The moment I first heard you crying, I searched all over for you, and when I found you-” Odin’s voice hitched “-you smiled up at me.”

Please stop.

“You and I both know that my motive was wrong, and if I could go back, I would change that, but I brought you home with me nonetheless and-”

What do you WANT from me?

“-and I took you as my own.  Loki, I loved you.”

Whatever it is, just take what you want and GO!

“I was cruel not to tell you-” the smallest of sniffles “-to not show you just how much.  I was so hard on you.  I only ever reprimanded you for your m-mistakes, and disciplined y-you for th-them-”

Finally raising his head just enough to look at Odin from under his brow, Loki blinked.  The old man’s voice was shaking, his lips trembling, his eye watering.  What was this?  Odin was stuttering.  The Allfather was actually stumbling over his words.

“-but y-your accomplishments, your wins, the many many times that I was so p-proud of you I thought I might burst, I remained silent.  I feared doting on you, and I was a fool for it.  I seemed heartless toward you.” Loki nodded mutely, standing stock still as his father started taking slow steps in his direction. “You believed I loved your brother more because I talked more easily with him, because I had more in common with him, did you not?”

Another slow nodー You DID….you still do….you always will.

“You were wrong, my son.” Odin was close now, reaching out to touch Loki, but he hesitated, hand mid-air. “I pushed you both , Loki.  You just weren’t there to see it.”

Loki bit back a scoff and shook his head, blowing out a hot breath. “Did you mock him for being thin?”

A pause. “No.  But in my mind, I wasn’t mocking you.  It’s not an excuse, but I was trying to push you to be strong.  I feared you would be killed in battle without more meat on your bones, Loki.  I didn’t know you were already strong enough.  Stronger, actually.  You had strength of body and mind in a way that most didn’t.  I was wrong to have ever said anything about it, and I deserve every bit of anger you feel toward me.”

Eyes welling up, Loki clenched his jaw. “You absolutely did mock my seiðr—the one thing that was mine.”

Odin closed his eyes, head shaking. “Because I envied it, Loki.  I have always envied that ability beyond words.  Your mother had it.  She taught you something I couldn’t.  Loki, your magic is…. formidable.  Many of us lash out when we are frightened.” He held his hands up as if in surrender.

Loki’s face screwed up. “You exiled me over and over and over.”

“I didn’t understand why you always fought me, Loki!” the old man’s tone was now desperate. “I was driven to the wall a thousand times over, and I…. wrongfully believed some space would do us well.”

“Some space?!” Loki barked, unable to control the pitch of his voice, tears burning his eyes, one falling down his cheek as his hands flew up to grip his temples. “You put worlds between us!”

“I always brought you home within a fortnight, even though it probably felt like more than that to you,” Odin swallowed thickly. “I wanted my son here with me.”

“You still had your heir with you, and you gave him his precious hammer while I was gone!” His father had an answer for everything, didn’t he.  These were all lies.  They had to be.

“I also took it away!” Odin finally raised his voice, trembling though it was. “Twice!  He killed you, Loki, even if by stupidity alone, he killed you.  Nothing could have made him more unworthy.  He took my son from me, and I took the hammer away that second.”

Taking in a shaky breath, Loki blinked and let his hands fall from his face.  That, he had forgotten.  That was not a lie.  Oh gods.  More cracks in the iceーhe would break apart any moment now.

“You…. lied…. to me,” he whispered, forcing the words out, grasping at straws to keep from crumpling to the ground as the anger faded. “For nine hundred years, you lied.”

“A trait that passed on despite no shared blood apparently,” a ghost of a smile appeared on Odin’s face. “You know why I did, my son.  Frigga too.”

Another crackーLoki’s chest ached. “You told me I was born to be a king.”

They’d had this conversation before.  It wouldn’t end well.  He eyed his father nervously.  The old man wasn’t responding, and Loki’s heart dropped into his stomach, just knowing that this was the part where Odin would turn and walk away.  But he didn’t walk away.  Instead, Odin let out a heavy sigh, and he shook his head, lips in a thin line.

“You were born to be a king.  That was never a lie, Loki,” his voice was strong now as he finally closed the last few inches of space between them to put his hands on Loki’s shoulders, giving them a good squeeze and shaking him a bit.  If there was one thing he needed his son to know, it was that yes, he was born to rule.  It had just taken an unbearably long time for Odin to realize it wouldn’t be from the throne of Jotunheim.

“Gungnir is yours, my boy,” he said, voice cracking on boy. “Thor could have pulled it off eventually, but he shouldn’t be Asgard’s king.  I see that now, and-” he swallowed, breath hitching at the sight of Loki’s lower lip trembling just the slightest bit “-I am so terribly s-sorry for the pain I’ve caused you.  The guilt is tearing me apart.”

Loki opened and closed his mouth, rendered speechless, not even considering shrugging his father’s hands off him.  Why did the man’s icy blue eye have to suddenly be so warm?  The cracks in the ice finally broke, splitting into a thousand pieces right there on the floor of his chambers, and he pressed his lips together to stop a sob from escaping.  A part of him wanted to hug the old man, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that yet, so he reached up to grip Odin’s forearms instead, nodding once, twice, three times.  That seemed good enough for his father in that moment, and he patted Loki’s shoulders before dropping his hands and sniffing loudly (a very kingly sound, indeed).  When his father turned back toward the doors, Loki remained in his spot.

“Father?” he called out.  Shit, his voice sounded so small.

Odin immediately turned, eyebrows raised in question. “Yes, my boy?”

Annoyed with how godsdamn glowy his stomach felt at the affectionate tone, Loki squared his shoulders. “Perhaps you should keep Gungnir for a bit longer,” he suggested, taking a step forward, “at least until Thanos is no longer a threat.  I can take care of myself without it,” he paused, then added, “especially with Sigyn at my side.”

Giving Loki a nod, a small closed lip smile spread slowly across Odin’s face. “I’m flattered that at my age, you consider my fighting skills an asset in battle.”

Loki chewed his bottom lip, eyebrows pinched.  He hadn’t been trying to flatter his father.  They just needed all the help they could get, and yes, his father was a well practiced warrior, even now.  But Loki had more than enough skill in battle without the spear.  Gungnir was an entirely unnecessary accessory, even though he would be happy to wield it eventually.

Odin chuckled low in his chest. “As you wish, my boy.  I will use the spear one last time.  But it will be yours the day after we defeat that monster.  I’ll kill him myself for what he did to you.”

Don’t deny me that pleasure—Unable to suppress a gleaming smile, Loki trained his eyes on the floor.  Once he’d collected himself, he looked back up.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, nodding once, and his father smiled, turning to walk back to the doors.

Fingers on the handle, Odin called over his shoulder. “Your lovely Sigyn will be a wonderful queen.  I look forward to seeing that come to pass.” He walked out then, closing the doors behind him.

What?ーafter all this time, his father now even approved of Sig?  Loki just stared at the doors for a good five minutes, waiting for Odin to return and reverse everything he’d said, take back every declaration of love like it was all some sick joke.  The longer the doors remained closed, however, the anxiety slowly disappeared.  He tossed his satchel on the bed (he wouldn’t have abandoned Asgard anyhow) and hung his head.  Sinking onto the edge of the bed, he hunched over and cried silently into his hands.  His heart stopped when he heard his doors open again.  So the old man had changed his mind, after all.  Bracing himself, he looked up, eyes wide and cheeks white with fear, but it was Sigyn who rounded the corner instead, and he pushed to his feet, relief washing over him as he swiped a hand under his nose and over his cheeks.

Blood boiling because Odin must have done something wretched, Sigyn willed her fire to calm down so she could touch Loki without burning him.  She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck.  She’d blocked their bond to give him privacy earlier, but now she needed to know.  She was on the verge of asking, but then she felt him smile against her cheek, and he leaned back just enough to look her in the eyes.  He pointed to his own then.

“These are happy tears,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to hers.

Eyes closing, she sighed heavily, and when she reopened them, they were wet. “Then mine are too.”

They shared a long terribly intimate hug, and when they finally released each other, something just snapped.  It was as though, in spite of everything, they hadn’t believed Thanos would ever really get to Asgard, and now suddenly time was in sixth gear, flying by the sluggards driving in second gearーthe people they’d been when they woke up that morning.  They had to move.  No more hiding.  No more worrying.  No more discussing.  No more planning.  Odin was awake.  Heimdall could see.  Loki was home.  And Thanos was coming to kill all of them.

Tick tock.

---

~Two Hours Later~

Thor did not present the proposal to the council, but presented Gungnir to Odin in the throne room, and so began an impromptu ceremony that felt anything but impromptu, what with armored salutes and the royal chamber orchestra giving a Valhalla worthy performance¹ during the procession.  After ascending to the throne, Odin welcomed Heimdall back to his all-seeing status, placing the famous bifrost sword in his hands, and praised the healers, namely Fiora, for their hard work.  Enthusiastic cheers erupted, but the hall fell abruptly silent when Odin held up a hand.  He pointed to the main doors at the back of the room, and everyone turned to watch them swing open slowly, revealing Loki standing behind them, Sigyn at his side.  There were two seconds of shocked gasps, and then the room became downright deafening.  Applause thundered all around them as they walked in, and the excited but dignified hailing of Odin’s return was replaced with frantic cheering usually reserved only for horse racing champions in the arena.

Exhaling through her mouth, Sigyn focused on not letting her jaw drop to the floor right there in front of the monstrous crowd.  They were absolutely mad for Loki, and the adoring response to him coming home left her in a bemused daze.  Dammit, why had he grabbed her hand, keeping her tight by his side, and pulled her into this hall with him?  This was his moment, not hers, and the front and center attention made her extremely uncomfortable.  Glancing up at him, she felt so commonーtoo short and too plain for a prince of Asgard.  He squeezed her hand almost painfully tight then, and she knew he was annoyed with her self-deprecating thoughts.  Okay fine, she wasn’t plain, but she should have at least put on higher heeled boots.  Honestly, as much as she loved being close to him, she was relieved to drop his hand and join Frigga and Thor, standing off to the side while Loki came to a stop at the base of the dais.  Having changed into his royal armor, he looked phenomenal, though it wasn’t the same armored regalia of his past.  His words from earlier in his chambers replayed in her mind….

“That garment died along with me on the bridge,” he said, searching for something suitable to wear to the ceremony.

“Everything has changed, Sig.  I’m not who I was.” She flashed him a watery smile. “Then make something new.”

He beamed at her, and did just that.  He made something newーsomething true to the man who was now back from the dead….

Head held high, Loki kept his eyes on his father.  Fastened to one shoulder and draping down to hook on the back of his opposite hip, was a richer, darker green cape than the previous attention-grabbing bright emerald one.  He’d replaced his old glaring breast plate with a thick long sleeved black tunic under an even thicker protective and equally dark sheath.  Grey green seamsーthe exact shade of stormcloud eyesーran down the sides of deep grey leather trousers that tucked into black boots.  His horns completed the new ensemble.  Sigyn had told him they looked like, in her words, “a gods damn crown.”

He honestly hadn’t intended to make a crown for himself (he wasn’t that arrogant), just something more practical.  His old full helmet had always been entirely too hot, turning his brain into scrambled eggs within seconds of putting it on.  But since the new one was still gold, albeit a much darker aged gold, and encircled the top of his head, with everything but his cheek plates and the actual horns gone, he had to admit she was right—it did indeed look like a crown.  A weird crown, but a crown, nonetheless.  Well, if he was going to be king, it certainly fit the part.  At least it had only taken a minute to conjure this new uniform.  If he wasn’t standing at the front of the throne room with all eyes on him, he would roll his eyes at how much longer it had taken him to fix his damn hair into smooth shining waves fit for a prince, falling loose just below his shoulders.  He really should just chop it offーa part of him envied Thor’s newly shorn locks.

Odin’s voice boomed, announcing that his son had (obviously) survived the fall, crash landing on Earth, and found his way back to Asgard through the Silver Lake portal, adding that Sigyn had been instrumental in his return, traveling through it with him.  Looking on from her place alongside her soon to be brother and mother, Sigyn swallowed, nervously glancing around, unsure how that information would go over.  No one even flinched.  Well alright then.  Apparently the Allfather’s concern for Asgard’s security had flown straight out the window, since publicly revealing that there were hidden gateways to different realms was suddenly of no consequence.  She stared wide-eyed, almost insulted over how easily the old man crossed out his three hundred year old executive order.  Oh for Hel’s sake, the time they’d wasted coming up with that fool-proof story about the whole thing.

Setting aside her annoyance, she focused on the impressive ambience in the room.  She had a hunch that this was more than just a welcome home formality for the lost prince of Asgard.  She knew Loki had asked Odin to keep the throne until after the battle, but it just felt too inauguralーtoo majestic.  Her fiancé might as well climb those steps and take his rightful seat in that obnoxious gold seat because there were at least a thousand people in that hall, and every last one of them was kneeling for Loki.   She covered her mouth with both hands because, without warning, she burst into tearsーface red, eyes swollen, nose runningーno doubt looking like an absolute wreck.  Gods, she needed a bottle of wine to chug because never ever ever had she imagined that Odin would look so fondly upon the love of her life.  She couldn’t handle this.  It was just so…. gut-wrenching.

Loki turned around then to face the court, describing the imminent battle, calling Gamora forward to fill in the blanks, and though she received more than a few strange looks from the crowd, there was no commotion, no questioning, no panic.  Raising a curious eyebrow at the strangely calm crowd, Sigyn chewed her lip, and Thor leaned down to her ear.

“I didn’t expect everyone to stand here quietly,” he whispered, and she nodded in agreement. “They must trust Loki implicitly.  I imagine they’ll follow him to the death if need be.”

Sigyn turned her face into his shoulder, trying to sniff back the embarrassing snot discreetly, and he offered her a tissue, not before blowing his own nose loudly and giving an apologetic smile to the eyes that slid to him.  Even though Odin still sat on the throne, it was Loki who, like a king, called the Hawks’ top brass forward to stand at attention before him, his voice dropping an octave as he spoke.

“Seven days,” he warned, his piercing emerald gaze moving between their grim faces. “We have seven days to refine our battle skills.  I will accept no less than perfection because we cannot win with anything less.  It will be the most rigorous, the most relentless, the most agonizing training of our lives, and every second of the pain will be worth it.”

Listening to Loki’s menacing words, Sigyn felt like she was in the middle of one of those horror films from Earth, given the date of her probable death at the hands of an evil force threatening everything and everyone she loved.  No, absolutely notーneither weak, nor powerless, she would not allow this to be the end.  Jaw clenching, refusing to curl up into a ball of fear in the corner, she shoved the growing dread to the back wall of her mind.  She blew out a steady breath, remembering what those monsters had done to Loki, which she didn’t even know the half of, and rage coiled tight in her stomach, a spring ready to snap at any second.

No doubt Thanos would be the most formidable opponent any of them had faced, but they could take him downーall of them together…. they could do it.  Odin had Gungnir and millennia of battle-readiness.  Heimdall had the most fearsome sword in the nine and unlimited vision.  Frigga had a heart of gold and body-bending seiðr.  Gamora had insider information and a blood-thirsty protective streak.  Thor had Mjölnir and lightning coursing through his veins.  And then there was of course Loki, and other than having the fastest horse in the nine, vicious ice, endless daggers, perfect aim, ruthless magic, and planet-shattering rage, he would have a cut-throat sorceress fighting at his sideーferocious and fierce and filled to the brim with fire.

Unadulterated hatred smoldered just under the surface of her skin, and Sigyn raised her chin.  Those savages may have stripped him, starved him, mocked him, cut himーtortured himーbut she would not let them kill him.  Never again.  No one would ever take him from her again.  Breathing hard through her open mouth, she licked the underside of her teeth, for certain looking incredibly feral, while the commanding officers nodded at Loki and turned on their heels, sprinting to the main doors and blasting through them with enchanted broadswords, barking orders for emergency rallying of all six battalions.  Thunder crashed then, shaking the floor beneath them, and she side-eyed her future brother.  Was that lightning in his eyes?  Nostrils flaring, he looked down at her, sending a shiver straight up her spineーshe’d never loved him more.  They nodded once to each other then stormed down the aisle, heading straight for the arena, her magic aching to set fire to the freezing rain that was now pouring down on the city.

---

While the Hawks and infantry soldiers deployed to the training grounds, Odin and Heimdall rode to the edge of the broken Bifrost, determined to bring back to life what had been dead for more than three months.  One eye trained on the sea, Odin stood with Gungnir upright in his hand, and next to him, Heimdall mirrored his stance, but with his sword instead, reciting words in the ancient tongue.  Looking on from the gates to the city, Frigga sat atop her horse, and behind her, the council members watched the scene.  Further back, Asgardians, Vanir, and Elves alikeーbe they nobles, dignitaries, palace workers, tradesmen and tradeswomen, or childrenーwere gathered on the shores, in the streets, on balconies and rooftops.  Despite the horrendous rain soaking everyone, this was an event no one wanted to miss.  The city held its breath as Odin and Heimdall slammed the ends of their weapons down into the jagged edge of the bridge.

Nothing happened.  For twenty agonizing seconds, nothing happened.  The people looked all around, angst permeating the atmosphere, nerves shooting past the stars.  Head held high, Frigga remained still, unmovingーa solid unflinching rock of confidence.  She knew this would work.  It just needed a moment.  She was right.

She was always right.

The ground shook then.  Buildings swayed and arms flew out to grab a hold of anyone or anything to keep from falling.  The winds picked up speed, turbulent and ruthless, bending trees sideways and pushing waves higher and higher up onto the craggy rocks.  Horses neighed noisily, rearing up on their hind feet, some dropping their riders to the ground.  The shaking stopped within seconds though, and like the eye of a hurricane passing over, one could hear a pin drop in the sudden quiet.

The first boom after the silence was a low grade rumble, reminiscent of the first crack of a hammer onto the bridge during the Jotun battle.  The second hit was a roar, louder than the first.  The third actually hurt, and eyes slammed shut, hands flying up to cover ears.  The fourth was impossibly loud, even more so than the supersonic explosion when the bridge broke a lifetime ago.  The fifth was the lastー BOOM!ー and the sea receded from the shore, millions of rainbow quartz shards shooting up from the water and out in all directions.  Starting at the ragged edge where Odin and Heimdall remained still as statues, the shards descended and smashed together smoothly, further and further until the bridge was a mile long.  Blaring cheers erupted, sheer joy sweeping over the city at the sight of the shining bridge, a mind-bending kaleidoscope of living colors once more.

Massive curved gold panels, forged and shaped and reinforced with hard as nails titanium to replace the obliterated observatory, were brought to the end of the bridge in oversized hoverboats.  Odin and Heimdall directed the construction, lending muscle when needed, and within the hour, the observatory was complete and fully functional.  Smiling wide, eyes glistening, Heimdall pushed the sword into the gleaming rudder, securing it in place.  He nodded to Odin, watching the king pull himself up into Sleipnir’s saddle and gallop back down the bridge to his wife.

---

Turned sideways in a deep squat with one foot planted solidly in front of the other in the rain-soaked and snow-covered training arena, Sigyn white knuckled her Vanir longbow parallel to the ground in her left hand as another crack of lightning split the sky.  Throwing her right hand up and behind her shoulder, she snatched another arrow from the quiver at her back.  She rose to her full height, knees slightly bent, anchored the nock to the bowstring with two fingers, then flipped the bow upright, drawing the black arrow back until it was taut, the feathers just brushing her cheek.  Eyes dark and narrowed to slits, she focused on her targetーa soldier thirty yards down the field charging at her and closing the distance fast.  Thick smoke pooled at her feet and curled around her fingers, then slithered down the length of the arrow.  It burst into flames, and exhaling through her mouth, she released it.  Zipping through the icy downpour like a bat out of hell, the fiery razor sharp head blasted straight through the soldier’s thigh, embedding itself in the door of an armory twenty feet behind it.  All of this, within three seconds.

The wooden door went up in flames, defying the bitter cold deluge, sparks flying and crackling loud enough to hear over the sound of swords clanging and soldiers shouting up and down the two hundred yard field.  Forty or so Hawks near the fire fell to the ground, shielding their heads, barely avoiding the fiery explosion.  They shot back up to their feet, resuming the all out assault on each other as she continued shooting arrows, running down the field, stopping for a couple seconds to aim twenty more times until her quiver was empty.  Keeping low to the ground, ears perked, she looked in all directions, especially her six, eyeing the ongoing blood-soaked mayhem.

One hand steadily gripping her bow, she took two seconds to push the dripping wet hair plastered to her cheeks behind her ears with her free hand.  Shit, it took two seconds too longーa leg collided with the backs of her knees, sweeping her feet right out from under her.  Her back hit the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the wind out of her, and she blinked, momentarily stunned.  She choked without air for what felt like an eternity, but was only seconds in reality.  Gritting her teeth, she growled and rolled to her stomach just in time to avoid a sword to her side.  Before she could jump back up to her feet, her attacker was on top of her, shoving her face into the dirty snow.  He was so heavy.  She would have suffocated right then but for the adrenaline that flooded her veins in half a second.  Contorting her arm, nearly twisting her shoulder out of its socket, she reached back, blindly grabbing for his sword hand.  She got a hold of his wrist on the first try, and turning her head sideways, she yanked it to her mouth, clamping down hard.  She felt the bone fracture between her teeth, his grip failing on reflex, and he dropped his sword, trying to wrench his wrist away.

Disgusted by the metallic taste, she released his wrist, spitting out blood and melted snow, then thrust her arm back, ramming her elbow into his larynx.  She heard his pained gasp, and he collapsed on her, coughing violently on the back of her neck.  His hot breath turned her stomach as she squirmed under him, her fingers digging into the mud.  Despite the bile rising to her back of her throat, she managed to drive her hips up and buck him off.  Quickly rolling to her back again, she gulped down the precious oxygen he’d denied her under his crushing weight.

One breath later (Norns, help her!), he attacked again, throwing his leg over her and straddling her waist, pinning her arms to the ground beneath his knees.  Huffing and grunting like a wild boar on the run, he grabbed her braid, yanked it up, then slammed her head back down onto the ground.  Her mouth fell open, eyelids fluttering, vision fading as agony ripped through her skull.  Still reeling from the blow to her head, she screamed when the dagger that she hadn’t seen in his other hand sliced down the middle of her right bicep.

The rain pounded harder, drenching them, pushing them further into the muck as he tried to slash through her chest armor.  Oh gods…. she couldn’t push him off, and she couldn’t reach her dagger.  She needed to use her magic now, but her arms were trapped under his knees, and his body was flush with hers, which meant she couldn’t simply let the smoke seep through her skin to burn him, or she’d go up in flames too.  She needed to direct the fire, and to do that, she needed her hands, dammit!

Hearing the first rip in her armor, feeling the first sting of a knife in her sternum, she cried out, and breathing hard through the blinding pain, she planted her feet into the ground for traction.  She thrust her hips up as she had ten seconds ago, throwing off his center of gravity, and he fell forward, cursing when his nose collided with her forehead.  She heard it break, hard and fastー POPー and she jerked her head to the side, eyes slamming shut, barely dodging the mess that gushed from his nostrils on impact.  She flexed her now free hand (YES!) and made a fist, smoke spewing from her fingertips, her blood turning to molten lava over this man trying to beat her to a pulp.  She would hit him where it hurts most, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

Right hand glowing like hot coals, she wrapped her arm around his outer left thigh and rammed her palm straight up into his crotch.  His resulting high-pitched howl hurt her ears, and just to add insult to injury, she kneed him from behind.  Gasping with relief when he rolled off of her, she saw him on his stomach in her periphery, the snow and rain extinguishing the fire between his legs.  He curled into a shaking ball, and thank Odin for it.  If that move hadn’t taken him down, she would have been forced to set him entirely ablaze, and she wasn’t keen on burning anyone alive other than the chitauri.  Leaning her head back, she opened her mouth to catch the rain, swirled it around, and spat it out.  At least her mouth was clean now.

“Sigyn?!  Are you alright?!” Ugh, it was Fandral’s voice.

No, she wasn’t alright.  They’d been at this for hours.  She groaned, pushing to her feet while staying low to the ground and turning in a circle.  A few Hawks caught her eye, and she took off running in the opposite direction, needing a moment to regroupーphysically and magically.  She charged across the field, intent on collecting her arrows, cursing when her sleeve snagged the open gash running from her shoulder down to her elbow over and over and over.  Hearing Fandral chasing her, she picked up the pace.  Yes, she was winded and wounded and needed an ender now, but she did not need some chivalrous hero to come and rescue her.

Her heart pounded as she sprinted, ripping out arrows stuck in fence posts and armory doors and benches and two unconscious soldiers.  The force needed to pull them out shot pain down her arm with each yank, and it was infuriating.  If only Loki were available to snap all of them up at once with his magic and send them flying straight back into her quiver.  He was a hero she would stand to benefit from, but he was on the opposite end of the arena, slinging daggers and blasting magic, no doubt breaking countless bones and spilling buckets of blood.  They would be fighting back to back in six days, so she should fight her way to him and practice properly for the real thing.

Normally the soldiers were disciplined for purposeful injuries beyond bruising during training, but there were no rules today.  Today was unbending, rabid, downright deadly battle prep.  The death and injury risk was high, and for that reason, four hundred healers were on stand by up and down both sidelines.  With a full view of the entire arena, Fiora and Eir stood on a platform above their colleagues.  There were no rules for them today either.  Loki had made that clear before the start when everyone stood at attention on the field, waiting for his command….

“You will use any magic necessary to save dying,” he eyed Fiora darkly, “and dead soldiers.”

Honing in on the word “dead”, a grin pulled at the corner of Fiora’s mouth, but Eir blinked several times, looking less than thrilled. “Your Grace, do you mean….?”

“A little black magic won’t kill you, Eir,” Fiora kept her eyes on Loki. “Might do you well, actually.”

Eir looked back and forth between the two, her wide gaze finally landing on Loki. “But necromancy is illegal, Your Grace!”

Tilting his head, he smirked. “Not today it isn’t.”

Loki turned on his heel to face his officers then, shouting for them to split the army, each half on either end of the field, and when First Hawk Brynjar called the charge, all Hel broke loose.  It was a mad dashーa scramble as thousands of Asgardian warriors slammed into each other, their very real, very LETHAL weapons drawn for the slaughter.  It made the battle with the Jotuns look like child’s play.  This was the culling of the wheat from the chaff.  You absolutely would bleed, but would you break?  Breaking was NOT an option….

Gasping for breath, Sigyn paused to return the last still smoking arrow to her quiver, careful not to accidentally stab herself.  She looked up to see Fandral still coming at her.  Frowning deeplyーwhy wouldn’t he just leave her be?ーshe turned to run away, but before her foot could even hit the ground, he grabbed her waist from behind and whipped her around to face him so fast and so forceful that it jostled her brain.  Dizzy as Hel now, she barely registered his hands moving from her waist to her hips, but then they smoothed around to her backside, and for a second, she was so shocked by her supposed friend groping her that her heart stopped.

What the…?!

Her brain kicked into high gear a second later, and eyes blown wide, fingertips smoking, she recoiled, pushing on his chest with one hand and clocking him in the jaw with the other.  His head flew back from the force of her fist, and his chest had a decent second degree burn now, yet he still didn’t let go.  No, he just slid his hands further down, gripped the backs of her knees, lifted her off the ground, flipped her backward, and threw her onto her back with a growl.  He fell with her, landing between her legs, his hips digging into the insides of her thighs.

“Get OFF!” she yelled, shoving against his scorched chest, pushing fire deeper into his skin, beyond pissed off to be in such a compromising position. “Get off me or-”

“Or what?” he grabbed both her wrists in his left hand, seemingly unfazed by her fire, and smashed them into the ground over her head while bearing down on her throat with the back of his right forearm. “You’ll roast me?  I am a tad too close for you to do that fancy little trick, dearest Sigyn.”

Face turning blue from lack of air, her vocal chords crushing under his arm, and tears blurring her vision, she mouthed “or Loki will kill you.”

“I’ll take my chances with lover boy,” Fandral spat, tightening his grip on her wrists.  He lifted his forearm off her neck to pull a knife from his boot, and she sucked down air like a drowning woman breaching the water’s surface.

Coughing within an inch of her life, she felt the icy steel of his blade on her neck pierce her skin.  Her eyes shot wide openー

Fandral is half a second from slitting my throat. 

Dear gods, she was actually going to die, and his despicable face would be the last thing she saw.  Without forcing it or thinking at all, her hands not only glowed, but blazed, and he yelped, letting go of her wrists with a string of curses while two words echoed on loop through her mind.  Then, like a cloud of smoke slipping out from underneath a door concealing a fire inside, those two words slid out from under her eyelids and nose—out from under the skull cage encasing them—and flitted through the freezing air toward her ear, audibly hissing, “Not… today… not… today… not… today….”

Holy shit, my fire has a literal VOICE.

Never had a whisper been so commanding, and it was everything she needed in that second to strangle the life out of him…and burn the skin off (just for the Hel of it) in the process. She was not weak. She was not powerless.

I’m stronger than this goddamn prick, and I will fucking PROVE it.

She felt like she was burning from the inside out as she hit the knife out of his hand and locked her ankles behind his back.  Leg muscles pulling taut around his waist, she squeezed him so tightly between her thighs that he shouted, his voice straining.

“Sigyn, I yield!ー stop!”

Did he think he could just tap out after a repulsive stunt like this?  Chest heaving, she braced her core, her hold on him reaching bone crushing levels as she watched him struggle to breathe.  She liked the pain on his face as he dug his fingers into her thigh and tried to balance himself with his other hand flat on the soaking wet ground by her head.  Legs shaking horribly, she couldn’t hold this position any longer, and as her grip failed her, she threw her left arm around his shoulder.  For a few sickening seconds, she saw his eyes darken, his jaw falling slack.  He moanedーactually moanedーand she felt the son of a bitch harden against her thigh.  Tilting her head, her eyes narrowed.

You. Wish.

Baring her teeth, she jerked his head back by the roots of his hair with a growl, and he reached back, grunting and clawing at her fingers.  His nails broke the skin of her knuckles, and she released his hair with a hiss.  Unlocking her ankles, she kept him in place with her left leg and lowered her right knee to the ground to expose his left side.  She landed a direct punch to his kidney, wrenched her dagger in a reverse grip from the sheath on her open thigh, and rammed it into his shoulder, twisting the blade for good measure.  He looked stunned, his eyes popping and mouth hanging open as he stared down at the knife, which she still clung to, lodged in his shoulder.  Relaxing her left leg, letting it fall sideways to the ground, she struggled to push up onto her free hand.  He fell back, sliding off the dagger, still in her tight grip, with an awful squelching sound.

“You…. did…. well…. Sigyn,” he gasped between each word. “I…. knew…. you…. would.”

The fighting continued all around them as she wiped the blade clean, dragging it across her thigh, one side, then the other, leaving a bloody mess on her leggings.  Eyes and ears open, lest another man pounce on her, she leaned over him.

“What the Hel was that?!” she croaked, her knife still at the ready, looking around briefly before returning her eyes to him.

He coughed and pushed to his feet, slipping a little in the mud, one hand covering his shoulder. “You are the only opponent on the field with fire,” he gestured weakly to the ongoing fighting, “and I need to perfect my skills,” he groaned, drawing his sword because one of these Hawks was bound to attack at any moment. “Just like your oh so dreamy Loki instructed us to do.”

Jumping upright, she shoved him hard in the chest. “Why do you keep bringing him up?!  And I am not some practice dummy for you to perfect your skills on!”

Seething, she snatched her bow off her back and lit up an arrow, aiming at the right hamstring of a hooded soldier thirty feet from her who was taking everyone down around him.  She released the arrow, only realizing it was Sif’s leg she’d just impaled when the woman shrieked, pushed her hood back, and ripped it out of her leg.  Dropping and rolling to put out the fire, Sif locked dark eyes with her.  She stood back up slowly, the bloodied arrow in her hand, and charged right toward Sigyn, kicking up snow with each step.  Sigyn swallowedー Oh shit.

“What are you talking about?!” Fandral yelled, right hand on the grip, left near the pommel of his sword, “Look around, Sigyn!  We’re all practice dummies here!  Just because you fuck a prince on the regular doesn’t mean you get special treatment!”

He ducked, swinging his sword up and around his head, and bringing it back down to his side, he flipped it backwards and stuck it right through a Hawk (probably his liver, oh dear) running up behind him.  Chest burning with exhaustion, Sigyn dove to the ground, sliding across an icy patch, just barely avoiding the blast from the injured Hawk’s seiðr-laced sword.  She leapt back to her feet, and a second later, a different soldier fired at her from her left side.  The shot grazed the back of her knee, and eyes slamming shut, she gaspedーgods dammit!   Would this fight never end?!  Pain radiating down her calf as he came up on her, she snarled deep in her throat, defensive smoke slithering around her feet and hands.  She parried his lunge with the upper limb of her bow, her magic putting enough power into the maneuver that it threw his equilibrium off, his weight shifting too far to one foot, and he staggered.  Before he could right himself, she lifted her left knee to her chest and kicked forward with an enraged cry, the sole of her boot colliding with his chest with such brute force that it blew him back ten feet.  Swiping hair out of her face, she turned back to Fandral, shouting over the fighting.

“You put a knife to my throat and ground your no doubt diseased dick against me!” 

“I am not diseased, and you’re one to talk about knives, considering you actually put one through me!” he fired back at her, letting go of his sword for a second to point to his bleeding shoulder. “And I did not grind anything!  You can’t expect my body to not respond to friction!  I did not intend to land between your legs!  Which you wrapped around me, by the way!”

“It’s called grappling, you sick moron!” she screamed, dropping to the ground when Sif, who had only just fought her way through ten soldiers, threw Sigyn’s arrow like a spear straight toward her face.

“Evil witch,” Sif growled, hands wrapped tightly around a sword grip without a blade as Sigyn rose to her feet slowly, anchoring her body sideways while Sif bore a hole into her skull. “I’ll never be burned by you again.”

Slinging her bow across her back once again since arrows were useless in close combat, Sigyn pulled her knife once more from its sheath.  When two broadswords burst out from both ends of the grip in Sif’s hand with a formidable metal on metal clank, Sigyn brought her dagger up in front of her face in another reverse grip, her free arm bending at the elbow to shield her chest, palm facing out.

“I don’t want to burn you again, but I will if you come one step closer,” Sigyn ground out, her voice low and threatening.

Onyx magic swirled around her hands, and as she released a deep breath through her lips, one long flame slid down the tapered black blade, casting menacing shadows across the hollows of her cheeks and under her eyes.  Sif had the good sense to look terrified for a second, but she hissed and lunged forward anyway.

Hmm…bad call—Sigyn smirked just as Gamora (gods love her) came out of nowhere.   In the span of two seconds, the top of Gamora’s foot hit the underside of Sif’s chin, knocking her head back, then with a positively livid shout, Gamora turned to the side and kicked the woman’s shin hard.  Sif brought her head back up instantly, spitting out blood (and a molar) as Gamora stepped in front of Sigyn.

“You can hurt anyone else,” Gamora shouted over the fighting, whipping out the two swords that hung hidden from sight in the double scabbard under her knee length leather coat.  Twisting both grips in her hands once, she thrust them sideways, holding them steady at her hips. “But you won’t lay a finger on her.” She gestured to Sigyn with her chin.

Sif scoffed, undeterred by Gamora’s threat, and swung her weapon wildly, locking herself in a fight against both Gamora and Sigyn.  The poor supposed goddess of war was defeated within a minute.  The chaos continued all around them, long into the evening, stopping only when the colossal bell in the arena tower rang, its deep bellow reverberating across the grounds loud enough to wake the dead, signaling the end of the day.

“Thank the Norns,” Sigyn panted, tossing her bow on the ground and doubling over, trying to catch her breath.

“I hate everything,” Gamora coughed, swiping the back of her hand across her forehead.  She glowered at the mud and soot and sweat covering her fingers.  God, every inch of her was sopping wet, and a serious chill was setting in now that they weren’t fighting.

Covered in deep cuts and angry bruises, Sif pushed up from the soggy ground, nearly slipping onto her rear again, but Gamora offered her a hand. “Thanks,” Sif gasped, clinging to their strange new friend until her knees stopped wobbling. “That was beyond horrific.”

Fandral came up behind them, one hand covering his shoulder and leaned on his sword. “I suggest we put this day behind us,” he said, breathless, eyes trained on Sigyn. “There should be no hard feelings between us.  We are comrades.  We were told to fight as equals, and so we did.  Nothing more.  I commend each of your efforts.  Well done, ladies.”

Staring daggers at him, fairly certain she had frostbite on her fingers, Sigyn snatched her bow back up and walked away, wanting nothing more than a hot shower, a hug from lover boy, and to never see Fandral’s face again.

---

After six consecutive hours of Combatives Battle Prep Session 1 in the arena during severe weather, it came as no surprise that the healing wing was full to the brim.  Every bed, every sofa, every cot available, was in use.  Spells were cast, surgeries performed, enders administered.  Sheets were covered in blood and dirt, and the rooms smelled absolutely atrocious, but despite all that, most everyone was laughing and giddy with excitement.  Eir and Fiora (mostly the latter) brought close to a thousand soldiers back from death on the grounds of the arena, and the pride showed on their faces.  Apparently successful black magic was a bit of a rush.

Of those who hadn’t needed gifted necromancers, a good third of them were in serious, though not critical, condition.  It had been a brutal day, but it had been necessary.  Loki now knew that a thousand soldiers were not fit for a battle against Thanos and his army, and since no amount of grueling training could ready the weakest links of the Asgardian forces in only a few short days, he would relieve them of combat duty to aid the evacuation efforts instead.  No way in Hel would he send unfit soldiers straight to certain death.  The soldiers who, on the other hand, were fit for battle would train again tomorrow, this time with horses added to the mix.  Before today’s training, Loki had commanded the elite Hawk cavalry to fight in the muck just like everyone else without their deadly steeds….

“We must build up to that.  I won’t have our infantry crushed in a horse stampede.  A s long as a soldier can handle himself or herself on foot during the battle, I’ll allow them to fight the chitauri.  This is a TEST.  If you can’t make it through today, forget it.  Tomorrow will be more agonizing, yes, but I won’t dismiss anyone from combat for going down when a horse kicks them in the face.”

A half hour had passed since the arena bell rang, and as Loki walked through the healing wing holding his horns in one hand, he was positive he’d made the right call concerning the cavalry.  Horses were more than a little destructive.  He bit his lip at the thoughtーgods he couldn’t wait to ride Sinir tomorrow.  Thor was at his side, Sigyn and Gamora trailing them, all looking like something the cat dragged in, as they peeked in the rooms, smiling at the soldiers who waved happily at them, despite the jagged cuts and dark bruises and missing teeth.

“Wait!” Thor grabbed Loki by the elbow abruptly, stopping him from passing by yet another door. “That’s Sif!”

Rolling his eyes, Loki yanked his arm from his brother’s grip.  He spun on his heel to face Sigyn while walking backwards, still in step with Thor.

“Thank goodness she still has her hair this time,” Loki smirked at her, and she shot him a look. 

Thor must not have heard the slightly dark quip, because rather than punch his younger brother, he hurried into the healing room all the same and took a seat on Sif’s bed, leaning forward to kiss her gingerly on the mouth.

“Woah, oh no no no,” Gamora cringed, looking away. “Her mouth is covered in blood!  What is he thinking?  Disgusting.”

“Disgusting indeed,” Sigyn agreed with a snort, catching up to Loki. “And not just because of the blood.”

He switched his horns to his other hand so he could slide his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him as they walked.  Sighing heavily, she relaxed into him.  Gods, he made her feel so safe.  Color her shocked that after constant threats to every inch of her body for the last six hours, she was a little desperate for protection.  Moving down the hall, they checked room after room, with Gamora following behind, making sarcastic comments here and there that amused Loki to no end.

He leaned down to Sigyn’s ear. “I like her.”

“You should see her fight,” she whispered back to him. “She is hardcore.  I’m surprised Fiora didn’t have to resurrect Sif.”

“Wish I’d seen that,” Loki laughed quietly, eyeing the woman over his shoulder.

It took Gamora a moment to realize he was staring, and she picked up her pace, sidling up to Sigyn’s side.

“What?” Gamora asked, her voice low as she looked around them. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Loki shrugged, returning his gaze forward. “I just like you is all.”

“Oh…. um…. good…. I mean,” she struggled to get the non-sentence out.  She wasn’t great with compliments. “Thanks.  You guys are alright, too.”

Tongue poking through her teeth, Sigyn smiled, playfully elbowing her new friend in the ribs, then laughing when the woman elbowed her back.  It was like having a sister again, and it made her sad to think Gamora would probably leave after the battle.  Thankfully, Frigga rounded a corner, all smiles, stopping Sigyn’s mood from plummeting.  Her future mother hurried toward them, arms wide open, squeezing all three at once, then hugged each individually, apparently unbothered by the grime.

“Your father called for a feast tonight,” she looped her arm with Loki’s, pulling him out of the healing wing.

“Tonight?” Loki echoed, eyebrows shooting to his hairline as his mother dragged him into the main corridor.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded, grabbing Sigyn’s hand next to her and shooting a smile at Gamora over her shoulder. “You too, my dear, come along.”

Gamora made a face and cleared her throat, matching Sigyn’s pace.  She did not like being in a hall this crowded.  All these people were staring in her direction.  Then again, maybe they were just looking at their prince, who appeared similarly uncomfortable.  He looked less than thrilled with the new development.

“Why tonight?” he asked (whined actually), face falling. “Everyone is broken and bleeding-”

“And will therefore benefit from making merry, my love,” Frigga walked faster, nodding to the palace workers scurrying around. “Your father arranged everything during that little sparring session of yours.”

The three drowned rats glared at her in unison.  Little sparring session? Right.

Frigga put a hand to her forehead. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.  Anyhow, it’s your welcome home, darling.  Complete with the best food and drinks and music and dancing-”

“Ummm….” Gamora frowned, and Frigga paused to look at her. “This little shindig isn’t mandatory, is it?” She did not dance.  She would not dance.

Frigga chuckled. “Funny girl, no it’s not mandatory, but it will be fun.  You don’t have to dance,” she winked, “but I highly recommend the drinks.” She dropped Loki’s arm and stepped around Sigyn to drape an arm across Gamora’s shoulders. “I’ve had Sigyn’s old suite prepared for you to use however long you’re with us.  It has its own private bath, or shower, if you prefer.  The view is lovely.  The bed is big and comfortable.  And no one will bother you.  One of our palace workers will see to your needs, if you have any.”

Chewing her lip, Gamora shifted her feet. “Like….a maid -servant type person?” She gagged a little in the back of her throat, just knowing this person would ask ridiculous questions and provide archaic near-medieval services.  She could hear it now…. “Shall I tighten your laces, m’lady?  I’ve drawn you a bath to wash off that potted ninny ‘oo bedded ya last night, m’lady!  I’ve brought you a fresh chamber pot, m’lady.”

There was a second when no one talked, and Gamora crossed her arms, one hip cocked.  She was right.  She knew it.  She’d be better off sleeping on her ship.  She could handle freezing temps.  She could not handle ladies in waiting.  Absolute vomit.  No thank you.  Loki busted out laughing then, stunning the entire hall into silence, and if she didn’t think his laugh was at her expense, she would have paused to admire the sound of it, and maybe join in.

Shoulders shaking, head thrown back with one hand on his chest, he covered his mouth with the back of his other hand.  He hunched over, putting a hand on his hip.

“Ah….cramp,” he hissed through the wheezing….in public.  Norns, take him now.

Tilting her head, Sigyn raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell, what has you in literal stitches?”

Loki snorted and righted himself. “Oh, nothing.  Chamber pots…. beddings….” he trailed off, sniffing and rubbing away the tears under his eyes with his thumbs.

Tapping her foot, Gamora set her jaw. “Why do you read my thoughts like such a creep?”

“Why do you think we don’t have fully functional toilets?” Loki snapped, pushing past Sigyn to stand right in front of Gamora, bending down to look her in the eyes.

“I don’t know, maybe because this whole planet looks like a goddamn set from Game of Thrones!” she shouted into his face, uncrossing her arms and balling her hands into fists. “Only more lame because there aren’t any dragons!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Frigga said, voice stern as she pulled Loki back. “You sound like a couple of thick-witted drunks, and I’ll have nothing of the sort.”

Sigyn put a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh when Frigga rolled her eyes and tugged Gamora down the hall, presumably to Sigyn’s old chambers.  She turned back to Loki, eyeing him from under her brow.

He pointed a finger at her face. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she blinked, eyes wide as a slow smile spread across her face. “Like I enjoy watching your mother scold you?”

Shaking his head, he returned her smile and grabbed her hand, leading her toward the south wing.  Desperate to clean off the remnants of the day, as soon as Loki closed his chamber doors behind them, he made a dash for the shower, stripping out of his dirty armor along the way.  Moving to stand directly under the instantly hot spray, he leaned his head back and pushed his hair out of his face, letting the water wash away the dirt and blood.  He dropped his head, cringing at the brownish red water circling down into the drain.

“Oh….oh this is awful.”

Hearing Sigyn’s voice, Loki cracked open the foggy shower door and poked his head out.  She stood half naked, dressed only her leggings in front of the full-sized mirror, running her hands over crudely cauterized cuts and bruises on her neck and chest.  Wincing a little, she twisted to examine her back with a frown.  She felt his eyes on her, then looked at him in the mirror.

“Are you as black and blue as me?” Probably not.

“I don’t know, Sig,” his voice bounced off the tiled walls as he pushed the door further out, and finger-combed his soaked hair back from his face with both hands.  Stretching his arms high above his head, he wrapped his hands around the sleek titanium shower door frame, his ribs jutting out as his long freshly cleaned torso pulled taut. “Am I?”

Tapping her lip with one finger, her eyes glazed a bit as she studied the man who was the very definition of sinewy, and she crossed her arms over her chest.  Well, mark her down as envious and aroused as Hel despite the pain.  Those ridiculous long inky eyelashes made his eyes look even greener as he stared at her, standing still as a statue save for the steady rise and fall of his chest.  She saw two bruises….big deal.  Gaze wandering lower, she frowned.  Everything below the sharp v of his hips was completely hidden under an opaque cloud of steam, which was disappointing in more ways than one.  What a tease.

“Those cuts might swell up if you don’t…. ice…. them….” he trailed off, watching her slip out of her leggings carefully.  He met her eyes when she looked up. “I can be of some help with that, if you like,” he offered, voice dropping an octave when she squeezed between his body and the door.

Hogging the water, she shrugged one shoulder, humming dispassionately, trying to ignore what that sultry baritone was doing to her because everything hurt, and the last thing she needed was for Loki to pound into her against the shower wall.  Okay, maybe not the last thing she needed, but she couldn’t handle that right now.  His arms came around her waist from behind then, and she winced as his palm ran over a wound.

“Loki, I’m too…. ouch- ” she hissed “-too damn sore.”

“I know you are,” he murmured against her temple, tightening his grip on her ribs with one hand and sliding the other right over each injury, sending freezing cold bursts deep below her skin.  It took her a second to realize he was speaking healing incantations.  So that’s what he meant by “icing” them.  Clever man.  Five minutes later, she felt almost brand new.

He put a hand under her chin, looking her over. “Better?”

Blowing out a heavy breath, she nodded. “Yes.  Thank you.”

He grinned and leaned down to peck her lips, “Any time.”

They stood under the water for a solid hour, eyes closed, heads back.  Pulling a robe on after they were done, Sigyn wrung out her hair over the built in bath, nonchalantly admiring Loki’s back muscles as he brushed his teeth, a towel around his waist, on the other side of the room.

“Did your mother say what time this feast is starting?”

He groaned, shoulders drooping.  Dammitーhe’d managed to forget about their dinner plans during that shared shower.  It had been a simpler time.

“Nine o’clock,” he mumbled with a mouthful of toothpaste, nearly incomprehensible.  He spat into the bowl, wiped his mouth clean, and dragged himself to his dressing room.  Pulling a drawer open and shuffling through the contents, he muttered to himself. “Ridiculous dinner blah blah….I’m tired.  Get in here, Sig, and put on one of those low cut gowns of yours,” he called over his shoulder, “no corsets, though.  My parents will be there.”

This was not what he wanted to do right now.  He should not train in mud and blood for six hours and then be expected to groom himself for a royal banquet.  Snarling deep in his chest, he threw his towel on the ground and pulled on a pair of black boxer briefs.  He rolled his eyes, glaring at the shelves of clothes and shook his head.  No, he was not going to waste his time searching for a presentable garment.  He would just conjure an identical suit of armor to the dirt-covered one on the washroom floor, but his brain was too tired to remember the design.  Running a hand through his wet hair, he came back out of his wardrobe, calling to Sigyn as he walked toward the now closed washroom door.

“Sig, I need in there so I can look at my armor.”

“Oh fuck me-”

Spinning on his heel at the sudden voice, his eyes blew wide, then narrowed.  A young palace worker, his mother’s assistant, who looked like she wasn’t even out of the academy yet, was staring at him, her eyes roving over his bare chest and lingering just south of his waistband from just inside his main chamber doors.

“What the bloody Hel are you doing in here?!” he spoke through his teeth, flinging his hand in her direction.

“P-pardon my inappropriate words, Your G-grace,” she stammered, eyes snapping up to his face.

Loki raised an eyebrow.  Inappropriate?   Just a tad.

She dropped her head, holding out a small folded piece of paper. “I’m sorry for the intrusion, but I knocked repeatedly….and loudly.  It’s an urgent message from the queen.”

Murder in his eyes, he crossed the room to the girl, who was blushing either from her suggestive swearing or from getting an eyeful (probably both), and snatched the scrap of paper out of her hands.

Unfolding the note, he clenched his jaw. “Do not ever come into my chambers uninvited again.” She stood mutely, unmoving save for her heaving chest, and he bent down to look her in the eyes, “Did you hear me?” A slow nod. “Then respond as much,” he snapped, and she flinched.

“It will not happen again, Your Grace,” she whimpered, blinking rapidly, and ran out the door without another word.

Shaking his head he flicked his fingers, shimmering green, and the door slammed closed behind her.  He heard Sigyn come out of the washroom, and he turned around to look at her, eyes rolling.

Eyebrows knitting, she held up her hands. “Why the Hel are you rolling your eyes at me?”

“I’m not rolling them at you,” he said, coming up to her and kissing the top of her head. “Some silly girl barged in on me half naked.”

“Ah,” she nodded, tightening the sash of her dressing gown and skimming her fingers over his collar bones. “I imagine she’ll have the sweetest dreams tonight then.” She snorted when he slapped her backside.

“Stop,” he made a face, eyes returning to the note in his hand. “She was fifteen at most.”

“Lovely,” she cringed, walking to his closet to find something low cut that wasn’t a corseted bodice, as per Loki’s request…. order, more like.

Loki squinted at the message written in his mother’s flawless handwriting:

Dress down, my love.  As per YOUR tastes, which I schooled your father in this afternoon, there will be nothing dignified about this event.  No formal dinner, just an endless buffet, an open bar, and some rather…. interesting…. music.  You’re welcome.  See you at nine.

Eyes widening, he glanced at the clock on the mantle.  8:50.  His bad mood disappeared in seconds, a smile splitting his face, and he hurried after Sigyn.  Catching her by the waist, he spun her around, closing his mouth over hers in a hard kiss when she squealed in shock.  He pulled away abruptly with a wide smile, and she gasped for air.

“Loki, what-”

He handed the note to her and dashed into his closet.  Oh how he adored his mother for knowing him so well.  Dress down? ーgladly .  Liquor and dancing would turn the hall into a furnace, so he pulled on a simple dark short sleeved v-neck and his favorite pair of fitted trousers, nothing more.  He gathered his hair at the back of his head, not giving a damn that it would like he’d just rolled out of bed because it was done in two seconds ーbloody amazing.  Sigyn walked in just as he finished twisting the elastic, and he looked up, biting into a smile.

“Everyone is going to get absolutely plastered,” she smirked, dropping her robe and kicking it aside, then slipped a breezy grey and white high-collared halter with a straight ankle-length skirt and slits to just above her knees over her head.  Loki grabbed her hand, dragging her to the doors before she had her second ankle boot hooked properly, both laughing when she lost her balance on the one heel, and his shoulder and her elbow knocked into the door frame on the way out.

---

Loki’s body hummed with electric energy as they hurried down the corridor toward what was sure to be a booze-filled romp.  He hadn’t heard live music since the ball before Thor’s unsuccessful coronation, and despite being muffled behind the lead glass grand hall doors, the music² sounded more intense this time around, with soaring darker strings and hundreds of feet dancing and hands clapping as loud as the pounding drums.  The doors swung open immediately for them, and eyes sweeping around the room, he tilted his head.  This was so unusual.  There was no formal announcement of his presence or sword arch to strut under, and he was glad for it.  He’d had more than enough attention and adoration today.  He squeezed Sigyn’s shoulder, loving what he saw.

Along the right wall, a narrow ad hoc steaming hot buffet that smelled like heaven was full to the gills with people piling appetizers onto cocktail plates like it was their last meal.  On his left stood an underlit, polished black ashwood bar stretching the full length of the hall.  Hundreds of bottles lined the mirrored shelves behind it, and like the buffet, it was packed with guests shouting their drink orders and laughing raucously.  Son of a bitch, those twenty bartenders would make more tips tonight than they’d made all year.

Speaking of packed spaces, the entire hall had been turned into one giant dance floor surrounding a center stage where a dozen lead musicians were performing.  The orchestra spread out in a half circle behind them, bowing strings, hammering drums, and plucking keys with equal parts perfect precision and untamed emotion.  Waitーwas that the chamber orchestra from the formal ceremony earlier?  When had they become so…. unfussy?   Come to think of it, looking around, he realized everyone had forgone their formal armor and extravagant dresses.  They sported simple trousers, thin tunics, and spartan skirts.  His mother must have sent out an announcement saying this would be an…. ah…. unorthodox gathering.

The dancing was already sweaty and chaotic, and they’d barely started.  It looked like the popular spot to cool off was on the balcony beyond the open front wall.  Snow was falling on fifty or so people, pulling hair up off their necks and fanning themselves out there.  He squinted, looking more closely, and flashed Sigyn a knowing look.  Some of them were most certainly not trying to cool off.  Norns, they were all over each other, kissing and squeezing and groping openly.  For heaven’s sake, how was everyone so piss drunk already?  His mother must have told everyone else it started at eight, and he was anxious to catch up.  Lifting his arm off Sigyn’s shoulder, he grabbed her hand instead, and weaved through the crowd to get to the bar.

He called out to the bartender he recognized from his favorite tavern in the city. “That drink better live up to my name, Gunvor!” he smiled at the brown-eyed brunette, and she laughed, hurrying over to him and reaching under the bar to grab a tumbler.

“When I make ‘em they do!  Good of you to finally join your own party, Prince Loki!” she shouted back, filling the glass with ice.

Everyone at the bar turned at the mention of his name, whooping and hollering as they had in the throne room, only this time they were three sheets to the wind.  Loki snorted at their rambunctious guffawing, nodding his thanks to Gunvor when she handed him his drink.  Slinging his arm over Sigyn’s shoulders once more, he raised his glass to the crowd surrounding the bar, and they held up their drinks, mostly Tricksters, which flattered him to no end.

“Cheers to you lot of sloppy cocktail copycats,” he winked, taking a sip, and swirling it in his mouth, he smiled at the taste. “Well done, Gunnie, darling.”

Shrugging a shoulder, she nodded. “I do my best,” she said, eyes sliding to Sigyn. “For you, m’lady?  Will you have what he’s havin’?” she gestured to Loki with her chin, then eyed the rowdy group. “What all of ‘em are havin’?”

Waving a hand, Sigyn shook her head. “Only your finest dry redーVanir, if you have one.  I hate that persimmon swill.” Gunvor cackled in response, pulling a slender dark bottle from the shelf and popping the cork.

“How dare you,” Loki placed a hand over his chest in mock offense and set his drink down on the bar. “Everyone else here loves it.”

“That’s because they’re too drunk to actually taste it anymore,” she grinned crookedly, picking up her wine stem and downing it in one go.  Before Loki could say the sarcastic quip that was no doubt on the tip of his tongue, she grabbed both his hands and walked backwards, pulling him toward the center of the room.  Head a bit twirly from the wine, she giggled when she bumped into five people in a row.

“Your agility takes my breath away, Sig,” he choked on a laugh, and letting go of one of her hands, he swung her out with the other.  When she spiraled back to him, a charmed smile plastered to her face, he twirled her in a circle under his arm, and breathing hard, already sweating from a thousand dancing bodies heating up the hall, he seized her by the waist and drew her into him.  He held her hand against his chest, and splayed the fingers of his free hand across the small of her back, rocking with the languid pace of the next song³, much slower than the one when they first walked in.

“Brother!”

Loki twisted to grin at Thor who was waving both arms high above his head and pushing through the crowd.  His grin turned to a grimace however when Thor threw his beefy arm around his shoulders from behind, shaking him and laughing like an absolute fool.  Having his brother hug him when he was pressed this close to Sigyn was…. ick.  Gritting his teeth, he elbowed the blond clown in his ribs, and Thor let go with a laugh.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Loki!” he slapped Loki on the back, earning an eye roll. “We have a surprise for you.”

Still wrapped around his fiancée, Loki raised an eyebrow. “I thought this was the surprise?”

Thor wiggled his eyebrows, beaming when Sif appeared at his side.  Planting a wet kiss on her cheek, he winked at Loki and started dancing with his paramour who looked a little worse for wear after today’s training.  Curiosity peaked, Loki shouted over the music.

“What is the surprise?  Thor?”

Loki was on the verge of grabbing his brother by the collar and demanding to know, but he paused when he saw his mother climbing the stage in his periphery.  He released Sigyn, and she turned to face the stage, clapping as the musicians finished smoothly.  She leaned back against his chest with a contented sigh, and he wrapped his arms loosely around her neck, resting his chin on the top of her head as they watched his mother fervently applaud the musicians.

Frigga turned to the cheering crowd. “Hello, everyone!” she shouted, red-faced and slightly glassy-eyed.  Faltering for a split second, she placed her hand on a cellist’s shoulder and cleared her throat.

Eyebrows quirking, Loki snorted.  Was his mother tipsy?  Good gods.

“Pardon me,” she chuckled, finding Loki in the crowd and shooting him a grin. “The persimmon is quite good-” more laughs “-and I want to thank my beautiful son for concocting the mixture over a hundred years ago.”

Blushing a deep red because Frigga really had just called him beautiful in front of all these people who were now whistling at him, Loki dropped his forehead to Sigyn’s shoulder, which was now shaking with laughter.  He raised his head when Frigga cleared her throat again.

“As you all now know, Loki was on Midgard recently, and he brought back a souvenir,” she pulled the sleek black phone that Stark had given to him out of thin air and tossed it to him.

Eyes wide, he caught it in one handー Mother, what even-

Seemingly at random, Thor jumped up on the stage and gave Frigga’s shoulder a squeeze, his crinkly eyes roving over the room. “I know how happy each of you is to see my amazing brother,” he pointed to Loki, chuckling at the embarrassed look on his face, “I know you ladies are especially happy to see him.  How about that just rolled out of bed sex hair he’s trying to hide by tying it back, huh?”

“Thor!” Frigga slapped him upside the head, which made him spill his drink, and he cracked up as whistling and girlish squealing that he knew was being led by Volstagg ensued.

“Oh, Prince Loki!  You’re so beautiful, Prince Loki!  Make me yours, Prince Loki!” Fandral called out through his hands, adding highly suggestive moans to his blind drunk mocking, encouraging the jeers that were getting louder by the second.

Sigyn tensed up at the sound of his voice, teeth gritting, telling herself to forget what had happened in the arena.  It was a fight.  They were told to fight.  That was it.  Get over it.  Inhaling deeply through her nose, she closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of Loki behind her.  Without his jacket, he didn’t smell like leather at allーjust brisk winter and woodsmoke, with an acceptable hint of sweat and whiskey.  She heard him groan behind her.

“Fucking Hel, can I stab Fandral in the face?”

“I’ll help,” she deadpanned, arms crossing, then shouted at Thor. “Get on with it, pretty boy!”  She flashed him a fiendish smile, all teeth, thrilled when the crowd aimed their taunting at him instead.

He lifted his forefinger from the glass in his hand and pointed at her. “Someone wants to keep my brother all for her-seeeelf…. someone is jea-lousssss,” he drew the words out in a sing song tone.

Distracted by the belly laughs and “oooohs” spreading around the room, she flinched when someone poked her shoulder repeatedly.  She turned hesitantly, thinking it might be Fandral trying to provoke her, but blew out a relieved breath when she saw Gamora scowling at the stage, a tumbler in each hand.

“God damn,” she said, swirling one glass then tossing it back, “he’s idiotic enough without liquor.  This is unbearable.”

Sigyn sniffed the empty glass and gave her a knowing smile. “Is that why you’re drinking straight bourbon?”

“Yup,” Gamora said, exaggerating the ‘p’ with a pop. “Gotta get through it somehow.”

Sigyn snickered with her as Thor continued his speech, or…. toast?  It bordered on completely sloshed blathering, and she wondered if he was about to attempt a stand-up routine.  Please no.  From the corner of her eye, she saw Odin standing at the base of the stage off to the right, dropping his forehead into his palm and shaking his head.  She was overjoyed when he climbed the stairs and stepped in front of Thor, his one eye rolling.

“My son, no not that one,” he thrust his thumb back at Thor while squinting to find Loki amidst the sea of faces, and grinned when he spotted him. “I am of course referring to our soon to be king- ” he had to shout over the ear-splitting applause “-who is back from the dead, and tonight is in his honor.  Not that it has an honorable feel to it,” he chuckled, then gestured to the phone in Loki’s hand. “Thor found that, and I must say, the songs are…. spirited.”

Looking sideways, Loki chewed his lip.  Norns, had his father heard his spirited ringtone?  Hopefully not.

“Your mother is quite the magic-maker, and she procured…. or maybe conjured…. I’m not sure…. a-” he frowned at his wife “-what is it called again?”

Frigga waved a hand. “It’s just a little wireless bluetooth sound system, dearest,” she said simply, as though anyone in the room had a clue what those words meant.

Loki’s jaw fell to the floor, turning to see new musicians walk through the main doors, bringing in equipment that had no business being anywhere on Asgard: power speakers, subwoofers, digital mixers, amplifiers, samplers, sequencers, synthesizers, andーeyes darkening, he put a hand over his mouthー electric guitars.  How had his mother done this?  Had she found the sheet music, teaching and student guides, song books, and artists’ biographies that he’d downloaded onto the phone in his hand, which he’d read and memorized when he should have been sleeping in Stark’s tower, and then just created a replica band out of thin air and taught them how to strum these extraterrestrial machines overnight?  Head shaking, he gaped at the stage as the players and vocalists set up the so-called little sound system.

“Ho-ly hell,” Gamora breathed next to him, mouth hanging open in a smile.  She was still in Asgard, right?  Everyone looked confused, but also fired up for the coming entertainment.  Dressed in low key (haーpun!) Asgardian threads, bumping into each other, hollering, and cackling, they looked anything but uptight.  And since Loki wasn’t lying about the fully functioning toilets…. maybe this planet wasn’t so bad after all.

“Oh my god,” Sigyn bit her lip, pulling her hair up off her neck, entirely too hot knowing she was about to hear those guitars live right in front of her.  There was no way in all the nine that she would make it through this night without getting heatstroke.

Frigga locked glistening eyes with Loki, then nodded to the crowd and walked off stage, with Odin and Thor on her heels.  She turned back abruptly, causing Odin to knock into her back.  They shared a short laugh, and she waved an arm to get the crowd’s attention.

“Fair warning,” she raised her voice, “this might get a little loud.” The cheering intensified as she hurried down the steps, and finding her son, she threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. “I know you want to know how, my darling boy, but-” she put a finger to her nose “-I can’t expose trade secrets.”

A blinding smile split his face wide open. “Are they good?” he asked, one eyebrow raising.

“Who?  Them?” she pointed to the musicians, and he nodded. “I suppose we’ll find out shortly.”

Lips pressing together, he returned his eyes to the stage where the lead artist took a seat on the piano bench.  Loki exhaled slowly, wondering what the man would play.

“Welcome home, Your Grace,” he nodded to Loki, and with one foot pushing down the pedal, he lightly tapped the keys, the first chord⁴ echoing across the hall.  All around him, people clapped in sporadic bursts, whistling through fingers here and there as the haunting melody picked up speed.

Heart skipping about a thousand beats, Loki swallowed.  Oh dear godsーthis was NIN…. the man on stage was playing a gods damn Nine Inch Nails song…. in Asgard.  Could one die from happiness?  If so, he was in a dire situation.  Resuming his position behind Sigyn, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and her hands came up to rest on his forearms as she leaned her head back against him.  When another musician joined the first, slowly layering light synthesized harmony over the piano, the scattered applause and shouting grew louder.

Loki squeezed Sigyn tighter, breathing into the crook of her neck. “I think they like it.”

“Shiiiit, who wouldn’t?” Gamora mumbled, glazed eyes staring at that damn fine lead musician, tongue blindly searching for the glass mixer straw in the second tumbler.  Closing her lips once she found it, she slurped until there was nothing left but air.

Sigyn and Loki exchanged amused smiles at her terribly eloquent commentary.  He caught sight of his brother and Sif just left of him, their hands cupped around their mouths, loudly encouraging the artists, and Loki grinned so wide his cheeks hurt.  Seeing his brother enjoy the strange new music he adored made him feel high as a kite.  Ridiculous sentiment.

As the minutes ticked by, the crowd looked less perplexed and more entranced by the bizarre⁵ rhythms and alien sounds⁶, though some of them appeared downright scandalized by a few of the rougher songs, and Loki split his sides so hard that he had to wipe away tears.  Sweet Valhallaーwatching their shocked faces when the lead musician began growling in time with a throbbing drum⁷ while a dulcet female voice purred in the background was beyond hilarious.  What was not hilarious was witnessing his brother grinding against Sif.  Loki’s eye muscles stopped working for a moment, seemingly stuck watching the pair basically simulate fully-clothed sex.  Well, this was horrifying.  Were his eyes bleeding?

Sigyn grabbed him by the chin then, pulling his face to hers. “Eyes on me, handsome,” she ran her thumb along his jaw, then wrapped her hand around the back of his neck.

Grabbing him by his belt with her other hand, she yanked him to her just when the jarring beat ended with the profusely sweating male vocalist bending over at the hip and shooting back upright as the lead female singer moved to center stage to take his place.  The increasingly disorderly audience shouted their approval, some pumping their fists in the air, others clapping and jumping, a few booing and getting slapped and shoved by their neighbors.  Without warning, two musicians threw drumsticks high above their heads, caught them nimbly, hit them together four times, and brought them down heavily onto their drums in unison, pounding out the rhythm to the next song⁸.  Sigyn’s eyes shot wide open, and she shouted “I love this one!” close to Loki’s ear.

He smirked, and bowing his back, he slid one hand around her waist, the other up her spine, forcing her to mold her body with his.  By Hel ーher responding little moan made him want to drag her onto that balcony and shove her skirt up around her waist, but he controlled himself, content to dance impossibly close with her for now.  Whipping his head to the side to get the damp flyaways off his face, he let her guide his hips, watching her with dark eyes as she let go of him to hold her hair up off her neck.  She tossed her head back, singing the lyrics she knew wellー “I’ll let you chain me up or set me free, you could suffocate or let me breathe, baby you could be the death of me” ーover and over, echoing the throaty voice of the woman belting on stage.  Throwing her arms back around his neck, she locked eyes with him, moving with him to the dark beat.  Everyone and everything else blurred around them, and Loki dropped his forehead to hers.

Fucking gorgeous girl ーhe would do unspeakable things to her when this was over…. she’d be lucky if she could walk tomorrow.

Right here, right now, was perfect.  No angst, no brooding, no crushing weight on his shouldersーjust lost in the literal beat of his own drum.  He could be wild, chaotic, dark, rebellious, fearsome, powerful, a touch villainous…. and still be loved.  All this effort, for him.  It was the most unreal reality of his life.  This entire hall would have splitting headaches and agonizing nausea in the morning, but it would be worth it for this.  If given the chance, he would do it a thousand times more.  Gritting his teeth, eyes pinched, he rocked his head along with the heavy bass, and gripped his lover’s hips like his life depended on it because they had a date with death in only six days, and Loki couldn’t wait to slice that mad titan’s head clean off his neck.

1"Hourglass" by Thomas Farnon 2"B.Y.O.B." by System of a Down (cello cover by Break of Reality) 3"Black Hole Sun" by Soundgarden (cello cover by Break of Reality) 4"The Frail/The Wretched (E)" by Nine Inch Nails (live performance) 5"The Wake Up" by How to Destroy Angels (live performance) 6"The Resurrection of Scott Mescudi" by Kid Cudi 7"Counting Bodies Like Sheep (E)" by A Perfect Circle (live performance" 8"Death of Me (E)" by PVRIS