~Two Weeks Later~

Standing before the full-length mirror in her washroom, Sif scowled at her reflection as she adjusted the wide silver belt engraved with feathers into its perfectly polished, shining metal.

“For the life of me, I do not understand how the other women can stand to wear this sort of nonsense every day,” she said to herself, smoothing the navy satin that clung to her long legs.  

Horrible skirt.  Why, she was going to trip all over herself at this stupid ball tonight.  She rolled her eyes at the word.  Ball.

More like BULL…

…shit.

She ran a nervous hand through her loose hair, grimacing as she did so.  She would have to dance, and everyone would be watching because Thor was her escort.  This was going to be so unbelievably humiliating for two reasons:  Not only was she a terrible dancer, but the other soldiers would see her as more woman than warrior.  Her shoulders slumped forward as she returned to her bedchamber to pull on her knee-high formal boots, crisscrossing the long straps over the black suede up her calf.

“This looks positively ridiculous,” she whined, pushing up from the bench at the end of her bed once her bootlaces were tied.

“Well, I’ve never seen you in anything quite this fetching.”   

She jumped at the sound of Thor’s voice coming from the doorway.  He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Butterflies put her stomach in knots as she twisted her fingers in his hair, momentarily forgetting how upset she was about her impending doom at the ball.

“You know,” she said, pausing to lick her lips as his hands moved lower, from her waist, to her hips, and slid around to grab her backside, “a crowned prince should not barge into a woman’s chambers without-” She yelped in surprise when his mouth came down on hers in a kiss, which went from chaste to decidedly not chaste in less than a fraction of a second.

“I must have missed the propriety lectures at the academy,” he whispered against her mouth between kisses. “We have just enough time.”

His breath was hot on her neck as he pulled at the slit in her skirt (the most convenient invention in the history of women’s fashion) exposing her thigh.  Unbeknownst to them, Frigga appeared in the doorway to collect them.

“Oh dear,” she said under her breath, immediately dropping her eyes to her hands, then cleared her throat.

Thor and Sif instantly put several feet between each other, both blushing from the tops of their heads to their toes.  Frigga chose to keep her eyes down as she spoke.

“A soon to be king cannot be late to a ball in his honor on the eve of his coronation.”

Sif blanched at Frigga’s words, horrified that Thor’s mother had witnessed …. that.  

The queen offered her hand to her son then, and reluctant to leave Sif’s side, he sighed and tucked his mother’s hand in the crook of his arm.  Sif trailed behind them as they left for the celebration hall.

---

Loki stood behind Sigyn, his arms encircling her waist, outside the lead glass main doors of the grand hall.  She leaned her weight into him, watching the dancing on the other side of the crystal-clear barrier.  Vanaheim did not have music like this¹.

The drums were so loud, and even though her ears were not used to it, she rather liked it.  The dancing was her biggest concern.  She knew every dance in Vanaheim, but this looked far more improvised, as though Asgardians just grabbed each other and experimented with different steps with each new song.  This reminded her of being the new girl at the academy who didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing.  Gods, she hadn’t danced with Loki yet, but something inside her just knew that he was a good dancer, and she would look like a bumbling idiot next to him.   Holding her stomach, she turned in his arms to hide her face in his chest.

“My insides are churning so much they’ll turn to butter,” she mumbled, playing with the gold collar of his formal armor.

“Do not be nervous about this, Sig,” he said, kissing the top of her head and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Everyone in there is positively wasted.  They don’t care how well you dance.”

“Easy for you to say,” she whined and pushed up on her tiptoes to breathe in the cool and smoky scent of his neck, hoping it would calm her nerves. “You aren’t a foreigner.” 

Loki tightened his grip on her waist, stifling a moan as her mouth brushed against the underside of his jaw, her breath making him lightheaded.  By the Norns, he was going to ravish her right there in the middle of the hall if she didn’t stop this instant.  Taking a deep breath, he managed to find his voice, and it thankfully did not sound strained.

“I’ll be there with you,” he said, leaning his head back slightly, enough to be out of reach of her perfect mouth.  Not that it really helped him to back away from her mouth because now he was just watching her bite her lush dark red bottom lip anxiously. 

“Gods, is it hot in here, or is it just me?” she asked, holding her hair up off her neck.

Watching her, he swallowed hard and chewed his lip.  Gods, he could not take his eyes off her, especially now that she was holding her hair up.  He could see a light sheen of sweat across her neck and clavicle and lower down her chest because her dark green chiffon gown sported a sinfully (blessedly) low neckline. 

“It is a little warm, yes,” he said, voice cracking a bit, still watching her as she twisted her hair up to fit under the two golden serpents coiled into one that formed a circlet atop her head.  

“Good, I thought it was just me going crazy,” she said and stepped back from him, nervously pacing with her hands on her hips.

The hem of her skirt was just short enough in the front to expose her brown ankle boots, their thin gold heels glinting in the dim light of the torches lining the hall.  The gold cord of her dress cinched her waist and accented the flare of her hips with each step she took.  Just the way she walked had all his blood pooling at the top of his legs.  Truly, he couldn’t stop staring.  Mind racing with thoughts of ripping that pretty dress off, he grabbed her as she passed in front of him again.  He gripped her hips, leaning his forehead against hers.  She grinned and slid her hands up over his armored shoulders and into the hair at the back of his neck.

“Believe me, I’d love to do exactly what you are thinking about right now,” she whispered, licking her lips when his hands began to wander, “though maybe not right here in plain sight.”

He pulled her hips flush with his and brought his mouth down on hers, but before he could deepen the kiss, he heard approaching footsteps.  Damn.  He let go of her, and she turned to see Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Sif coming down the hall.  Groaning quietly, Sigyn turned back to Loki and dropped her head to his chest.  She chuckled with him as he tried to discreetly adjust himself in his trousers while her body blocked him from his family.

Moment ruined.

She’d had every intention of dragging him back to his chambers, pushing him down onto his bed, unlacing those trousers and crawling on top of him.  He was the god of mischief, for Hel’s sake.  He should be late to the coronation ball for less than honorable reasons.  She heard him curse under his breath then.

“Sorry,” she apologized, forgetting that he could hear her thoughts, which were not helping his situation.

“It’s fine,” he whispered to her and stepped around her to greet his mother.  He bowed, kissing Frigga’s hand. “Hello, Mother, you look beautiful as always.”

He resumed his posture and nodded to his brother and father. “Thor.  Father.  Sif…?”

His eyes widened at the woman in front of him. “Wow, nice dress.”

He smirked, knowing that wearing a dress was probably killing her.  He tried not to laugh at the scowl on her face as he grabbed her hand to place a kiss on her knuckles, as was practice at a formal event.

“Sig and I thought you might be no shows.  It took you long enough,” he said brightly as Sif snatched her hand back.  

Winking at Sigyn, he bit his cheeks to keep from laughing.  She merely rolled her eyes, elbowing him in the side while Frigga and Thor threw warning glances at him, and Odin, clearly annoyed, gestured for his youngest to enter the ballroom.  Loki offered both arms to the young women, and his brother’s lady friend glared at him.  

“Oh, come now, I won’t bite you, Sif.”

Glaring at his younger brother, Thor scoffed. “You had better not.”

“Shall we, ladies?” Loki asked, smiling brightly at Sif when she reluctantly took his arm.  

He then escorted them underneath the guards’ arched swords and into the drunken dance filled hall.  Frigga on Odin’s arm followed.  Finally, Thor walked in, the guards announcing their arrival amidst deafening cheers and applause.

---

~Coronation Ball, The Grand Hall~

When they first entered the ballroom, at Sigyn’s request, she and Loki went straight to the beverage tray.  If she was going to attempt to dance alongside these Asgardians to songs she didn’t know, she told him firmly that she needed a drink.  Maybe three.  With his arm draped across her shoulders, he waited for her to finish a pint of dry hard cider (bless him for ordering the kitchen staff to provide something other than mead).  He then dragged her away from the bar, yelling into her ear over the loud music that they were playing his favorite song², and they needed to get on the dance floor now.

Biting his lip around a wide smile, he held her hand as they weaved through the dancing bodies to the middle of the floor.  He staked out a spot for them, and holding her hand over her head, he spun her in a slow circle and pulled her into him.

He slid his hand to the small of her back, the other up to the nape of her neck, sending a shiver straight down her spine.  Instinctively, she put a hand on his shoulder and her other on his neck, almost mirroring his stance.  With a hint of a smirk, he bent down slightly and molded her body to his.  Then right in step with the deep beat of the music, he twisted his hips in an entirely inappropriate fashion.  Her jaw dropped as he pressed her further into him, moving her hips with his. 

Dear gods.  She had never danced like this.  Her insides were turning to lava as he spun them in slow sensualcircles.  She’d been wrong.  Loki wasn’t a good dancer.  He was an amazing dancer.  She gazed up at him, completely dazed, in the best way.

The slightest hint of sweat shone on his brow, he leaned his head down and swept it back up in time with the beat of the drums to get the strands of loose hair that had fallen out from behind his ears off his face.  With his eyes closed, he looked completely lost in the moment, and he was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen, the most gorgeous thing she could have imagined.  This was a side of Loki that she hadn’t seen− a wild and free side, and it had the fire under her skin burning hotter for reasons that had nothing to do with anger.  She wanted to stay here and dance with him forever, or at least until her feet ached so badly that she had to stop.

Many people tried to move in on them, but both she and Loki stared daggers at each of them until they backed off.  Eventually, Odin called both aside, scolding them for being antisocial, and she nearly threw a tantrum right then and there.  Were they not all here to simply have fun?  For the love, this wasn’t about mingling.

So now, here she stood, downing more cider at the bar, having been forced by his majesty to separate from Loki.  She crossed her arms and cocked her hip angrily, glaring at the woman that her man had been forced to dance with.  She had the urge to grab whoever she was by her golden hair, drag her to the cold balcony, and throw her over the ledge.  Why would that woman even want to dance with him?  What exactly did she get out of it?  It wasn’t as though he was available.  Anyone with half a brain could see that Loki of Asgard wanted only Sigyn of Vanaheim, thank you very much.

Come now, I’m wearing green and gold and SERPENTS, for Hel’s sake!

He was, to her relief, incredibly inattentive to his partner.  He barely touched the woman, keeping a good foot and a half between them.  Just when it looked as though he was finally free to come retrieve Sigyn, the song³ having ended, he was handed off to another irritatingly well-endowed woman.  She spat her drink back in her glass, her eyes blazing and nostrils flaring when the woman put her hands around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him down and giving him an eyeful of cleavage.

What.  The.  Fuck.

She slammed her glass down on the bar, black smoke seeping from her fingers.  The torches flared, stealing her attention away from Loki.  Seeing the flames growing in height, she somehow managed to reel in the smoke from her fingers.  Her eyes moved back to him just in time to see him yanking the woman’s hands off his neck and turning completely away from her.  Grabbing her stomach, Sigyn doubled over in laughter at the woman’s shocked face.  Clearly, that person had never been rebuffed before, and she was not hiding her horror well, what with her mouth hanging open like a damn trout.

The musicians finished the last stanza⁴, and after huge cheers and applause, they yelled out the next tune⁵ they would play.  It must have been a favorite because the cheering grew substantially.  She smiled.  Now was her chance to reclaim her man.  She took a step in his direction but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.  Turning, she saw a blond man dressed in the garb of the Crimson Hawks smiling at her.

“Will you only be dancing with Prince Loki this evening, Lady Sigyn?” he asked, holding his hand out for her.

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes, instead forcing herself to be nice.  Wouldn’t want to upset Papa Odin.  She looked down and snorted at the title.  It had just come to her.

Raising her head to look at the soldier in front of her once more, she decided it wouldn’t be the worst thing to dance with someone else.  At least while Loki was unavailable.

“Not if you ask nicely,” she smiled rather convincingly and took his hand.

“You may call me Gylfi.  I am a lieutenant of the Crimson Hawks, my lady,” he said and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.  He stood to his full height then, shorter than Loki by a few inches. “I have been watching you all night, and you are the fairest lady in all of Asgard.”

She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.  Fairest lady in all of Asgard?  Did that line work on the other women?  Ugh, sadly it probably did.

He’d not released her had yet and was standing too close for comfort.  She looked back to where Loki had been, hoping he hadn’t seen the attentive soldier.  Nothing could ruin the night quite like a blood splattering murder, and she doubted he would restrain himself like she had.

“Lead on, Gylfi,” she said, gesturing to the dancefloor, wondering idly if he would try to dance with her just like Loki had.  Heavens, she hoped not.  

Blessedly, Gylfi kept a respectable distance, mostly just dancing around her, and clapping his hands like everyone else.  Distracted, she scanned the room again, looking for Loki’s green cape.  Where was he?  She’d just seen him not five minutes ago when he was pushing that large breasted cow off him.  Gylfi’s hand landed on her waist then.

“You are not dancing!” he shouted, not rudely though.

“Forgive me, Gylfi,” she shouted back over the music and shook her head. “Thank you for the dance.” From across the room, she made accidental eye contact with Theoric, and she cringed, watching as he set his drink on the bar and headed in her direction.

“For the love, not again,” she grumbled under her breath.  

Pushing her way through the crowd, she hurried in the opposite direction and conveniently found Thor and his friends dancing.  She slipped her hand into the crook of Fandral’s arm.  Smiling broadly, he slid his arm around her waist and looked behind him, wondering where the Hel Loki was.

“Where is your dark suitor, dear Sigyn?” Fandral said directly in her ear as he spun her out from him and brought her back. “Surely he would not approve of this.  Though I must admit I rather like it!”

“Indeed!  Where is my brother?” Thor added, eyes sweeping the room as Sif planted a kiss on his cheek.  

“It is unfortunate that he is not wearing his horns,” Volstagg chimed in, his mouth, for once, devoid of food. “It would be so much easier to spot him.”  

Giddy from the alcohol, Sif made a pair of horns with her first fingers as she swayed in Thor’s arms.

“His helmet is absolutely ridiculous,” she shouted.

She then openly grabbed Thor by the neck and kissed him.  His eyes widened but crinkled with a smile, his hand massaging the small of her back as he nipped her ear.

“I think that mead has gone to your head, Sif,” he laughed as Sif turned in his arms, dancing with her back now to his front, and reached her hand up behind his head to pull him back for another kiss. 

Ignoring their romantic display, Sigyn looked away, and once again saw Theoric within a few feet of her.  She wrapped her arms around Fandral’s neck, allowing him to pull her closer to him, nearly as close as Loki had.  She certainly wouldn’t have chosen to dance to music⁶ this provocative with Fandral, but somehow it felt like a safer place than anywhere near Theoric.  Not to mention she still had no clue where Loki was, and she was genuinely becoming worried.  Despite her efforts to appear otherwise occupied, the captain didn’t stop in his pursuit of her, and within seconds he was standing behind her, speaking directly in her ear.

“Sigyn, I’d love a dance with you after this gentleman.”

She tensed up immediately, her stomach churning with nausea at the feel of his hot breath on her ear.  She wasn’t exactly afraid of him, however, being a woman did have its downside in that moment.  Knowing she could take care of herself wasn’t enough to ease her queasiness when a man who she did not want was this relentless.  She wanted to ask if he’d gone mad.  Surely, he wasn’t this dense.  Had she not made herself painfully clear on multiple occasions?  For the love, where was Loki?  She was positive this man wouldn’t bother her if Loki showed up next to her (like he ought to).  Squaring her shoulders, telling herself she was fine, she tried to keep a cordial tone despite her anxiety.

“My apologies, but I’ll be dancing with Fandral for quite some time,” she said loud enough for Theoric to hear without yelling.

She then pulled Fandral away with her, clutching his neck tightly.  He pulled a face as she moved her hips with his.

“I feel quite used,” he scoffed, “but if you wish me to take over all of Loki’s duties, I shall sacrifice my entire evening.”

He winked, but she didn’t see it.  Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t even hear him.  She was still shaken by Theoric’s words, from his mere presence.  She would feel so much better if Loki were here, wrapping his strong arms around her, kissing her hair, and threatening to cut off that man’s head and serve it on a gold platter at Thor’s coronation meal.  Where in the nine had he gone?  She couldn’t even feel him through the bond!  It clicked then.

Jaw clenching, she narrowed her eyes.  She would have known exactly where he was, even if her skin hadn’t suddenly frozen under a paper-thin sheen of ice.  Fandral dropped his hands from her as though she’d burned him and pulled away to look at her.

“Odin’s ravens!” he shouted, stunned by how pale she’d gone. “Sigyn, darling, you are absolutely freezing!  It hurts to touch you!  Here, let me help you to Eir to determine the cause immediately.” He helped her across the dancefloor, rubbing her arms to calm her shivering.  

“I’m fine,” she muttered, once they were near the exit.

“Are you certain, dearest?” he asked, reluctant to let her leave by herself.

Once again, she focused on her fire to warm her up enough to at least walk on her own.  Looking up at Fandral, she nodded and pulled away without another word.  She turned left and headed straight for the south wing of the royal corridor to wait for Loki in his bedroom.  He’d better have a damn good explanation when he returned from Jotunheim.

---

If only an illusion would have been enough.  Visual lies practically sustained themselves, with little to no effort from Loki, for long periods.  Unfortunately, the frost giants were much smarter than their loincloths and bare feet suggested.  They would have seen right through it.

When he first ventured into the frozen realm through the rock portal in the forest after Sigyn had left him at the foot of the mountain two weeks prior, he had flicked his wrist, and in a flash of green light, he’d enshrouded himself in the guise of a palace guard.  However, fooling the Jotun king, Laufey, would take more than a convincing illusion, so he’d stealthily returned to the portal and uttered the spell to conjure a double.  Though it couldn’t be his double.  He’d needed a different body, lest something go awry and Laufey sent a legion of his monster race looking for Loki.  No, he couldn’t let Laufey see his face.

He had not yet learned the formula for conjuring a new person, that is, one who did not actually exist, so he’d racked his brain, searching for a disposable soul, and had landed upon the perfect candidate.  When a convincing, though not exact, replica of Theoric had approached Laufey, Loki had waited within the portal, watching through the eyes and hearing through the ears of the conjured hawk.  It was exhausting to conjure his own double, but to make a double in the form of someone other than himself was painful.  He’d bent over, clinging to the icy cavern walls of the portal, trying to catch his breath and keep down the bile as “Theoric” bargained with them:

            “I shall return on the eve of the heir’s coronation and bring you to the vaults.  Your invasion will go unnoticed as the people will have indulged far too much in their mead.  You shall hide within the vault until the ceremony begins the next day, for then the guards will have dwindled in their numbers to behold the new king.  As Captain of the Hawks, I will order a change of guard and shall take post at the vault.  You can then retrieve your Casket and return to Jotunheim.”

            Laufey, eyes narrowed, had stood from his frozen throne. “How shall we return undetected?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

            “A militia has already formed against the thunder god.  I shall ensure your return with their aid.”

            “And what of this militia?  You would surely be sending them to their deaths.  The Allfather would have them executed.  Is that a price you are willing to pay?”

            “Yes.  A few dozen Asgardians killed is hardly worth batting an eyelash over if it would mean saving the entire realm from the heir’s idiocy.  Prince Thor is a fool.  He cannot replace the Allfather.  Asgard would fall under his rule.  When you invade the vaults, not only will his coronation be ruined, but his desire for retaliation will prove to Odin what many of us already know: Thor is not ready to be king.

            He will never be ready.  Odin is weary in his old age and does not want war.  He prefers diplomacy.  He will not attack if he believes you won’t use the Casket for realm domination but only to restore Jotunheim to its former glory.  It would take some convincing, but it can be done.  I realize that sneaking into Asgard through a secret forest portal will make the convincing a bit more difficult, but what choice did you have?

            All you ever wanted was to restore your home.  Or so you can claim.  Odin has grown soft.  I imagine with a pleading look you can tug at his heart strings.  And part of your treaty can be to keep the location of the portal secret.  Do I have your word that you will not use it against Asgard?  I do this in hopes of keeping the peace treaty intact.”

            “This plan is foolhardy at best,” Laufey said with a deep scowl. “Keep the portal secret as part of a treaty?  Do you think your king is an imbecile?”

            “I have been his captain for over a century.  He has changed much since you last had conflict with him.  He is not as power hungry as he once was.  He wishes to protect, to keep peace.  Your treaty has lasted for centuries.  You’ve not once betrayed his trust.  He will remember that.”

            “And what of Heimdall?  How did he not spot you coming through this portal?  How will he not see my men coming through?  And if this plan works, and we want the portal kept secret, why wouldn’t he aim his eyes to the forest?”

            “We have a few sorcerers amongst our militia, and they aided me.  They shall aid you as well.  And when they are executed, which they are prepared for, their secrets will die with them.  They are willing to die for this cause.”

            Laufey frowned, deep creases in his brow growing deeper still, making him look like the saddest creature ever to have existed.  “I do not wish to conquer the realms,” he said, sighing heavily. “I only wish to restore my own.  We lost our power because we attempted to take over Midgard.  I accept your offer.  Heed this warning though, Captain of the Hawks.  If we are unsuccessful, if war comes to Jotunheim, we will have your life.”

            “Oh, I’m counting on it,” Loki had said to himself through Theoric’s double as he came back through the portal, dissipating his form just in time to escape being seen by Sigyn when she came back into the forest.  

Now, Loki looked on from the empty stables as the Theoric’s double made good on his promise and escorted three Jotuns along the outskirts of the city.  The pain of sustaining the double, of enshrouding them in an invisible cloak, was worth it.  He was gleeful, despite the ache pounding away at the top of his spine.  He watched with narrow eyes as the hawk with the monsters in tow, slipped unseen, even from Heimdall, through the guards’ quarters below the palace gate.  Safely arriving in the vault, still invisible to the soldiers pacing the cavernous hall, the Jotuns disappeared within the shadows.  Loki allowed “Theoric” to dissipate outside the vault as he trekked back to the palace from the stables.

He could hear cheers, laughter, and loud music⁷ floating across the cold wind as he climbed the stone wall below his chambers.  Apparently, the festivities were still in full swing. Fine by him.  It was likely no one had even realized he was gone.

Well, Sigyn might have, but he’d honestly hoped that cider had kept her distracted from reality.  Reaching his balcony, he jumped over the ledge, but before his boots even hit the floor, a dark figure assaulted him.  Shaking his head, trying to get his bearings, he squatted low, his dagger unsheathed.  He returned the blade to his boot as soon as he heard his attacker crying.  Sighing heavily, he pushed her hair behind her ears and wiped under her eyes with his thumbs− Oh Sig.  She was breaking his heart as she fell to her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Why?” she sobbed into his neck.

She didn’t need to explain her question to him.  He knew that she knew where he’d been was dangerous and that it could’ve killed him, but she had no idea why.  Why did he keep forgetting the bond?  He would never get away with anything all because he’d bitten her in one moment of passion!  

Kissing her cheek, he lifted her, one hand under her knees, the other under her shoulders, and carried her into his fire lit room.  He set her down on the hearth sofa and tucked a large soft black blanket around her, so she could warm up.  Gods, she’d felt positively frigid out on the balcony, which was absurd because she had fire magic for Hel’s sake.  He took a second to look her over.  Other than being ridiculously cold and red-eyed from crying, she seemed fine.  Shaking his head, he frowned.  Why was she still shivering?  He didn’t understand.  Clamping his eyes shut, he ran a hand down his face.  The bond.  That was why she was cold.  Fucking Jotunheim.

He sighed heavily.  She’d be fine after a few moments by the fire.  Nothing to truly be concerned about.  Right?  Pushing to his feet, he began the process of unbuckling, unhooking, unstrapping, and unclasping the many fastenings that held his armor together.  She followed his movements with her eyes.

“Please, Loki,” she whispered.

“Let it go, Sig,” he said, voice strained a bit from the cold.

“Look at me,” he continued, holding his arms out perpendicular to his body, palms up.  He spun in a slow circle.  “Not even a scratch.”

It wasn’t the way she would have chosen to stop shivering, but if becoming uncontrollably angry was the only way, then so be it.  The fire beneath her skin grew hotter as she watched him flop backward on the bed, refusing to explain any further.

“Enough with the secrecy, Loki,” she said, keeping her voice low, trying to control herself. “I want to know why.  What business do you have with Jotunheim?”

Nothing.  Not a peep.  Throwing the blanket off her, she stood from the sofa and threw her hands up.

“Gods dammit, Loki, answer me!”

She wanted to beat it out of him.  Why was he doing this to her?  Why wouldn’t he tell her?  This wasn’t the way to treat someone you loved!  Did he not care at all how much he was hurting her?  She felt sick in every way that one could be sick.  Her head pounded.  Every joint, every muscle, every bone screamed.  It felt as though Fenrir was sitting on her chest.  Her throat was dry, and nausea wreaked havoc within her core.  She wondered idly what he would do if his spotless fur rugs were soiled with her vomit.  

In response to her question, he had the gall to shake his head and actually grin at her, and that did the trick.  All control was lost.  Her black smoke not only pooled at the hem of her dress, but rushed out from her fingers, from the ends of her hair, and enshrouded her as the flames within the fireplace shot out across the room, dangerously near him.  The enchanted green flames on the huge and heavy chandelier that hung above his bed grew until the iron began to melt from the heat, the hot metal dripping onto his bed.  

His eyes widened in horror as it shook, and it fell before he could register that he needed to move.  She screamed as the wrought iron and flames crashed onto him.  Throwing her hand out in front of her face, black mist flew across the room and onto the flames of the chandelier before they could burn him.  Instantly, the flames were snuffed out into smoke and ash, and she ran to him to help pry the heavy iron off him.  Groaning, he rolled over once she’d been successful in her attempts.

“Let me see!” she shrieked, lifting his arm to get a better look wishing he’d not stripped off his armor. “Oh gods, are you bleeding?  Are you hurt?  Let me see!”

Thank Odin he’d left his trousers on at least.  Inspecting him closely for injuries, she found some scratches, and bruises were forming across his torso, but other than that, he was surprisingly okay.  She shook her head, confused.

How had he not burned at all?  How had that heavy chandelier only left scratches?  Asgardians were strong for certain, but he should have come out with at least a broken bone.  That chandelier had to weigh upwards of seven hundred pounds!  Not that she wanted him to be hurt.  To her surprise, he then started laughing and pulled her on top of him, his hands gripping her waist, his hips rocking up as she straddled him.  She pushed his hands away, unconvincingly attempting escape.

“What the Hel is wrong with you?  Here I am, terrified, thinking I’ve pulled a Sif on you, and all you can think about is your cock?”   

“You did pull a Sif,” he said, delight and admiration evident in his tone, “and it was amazing, albeit slightly terrifying, to watch.”

He then rolled them, positioning himself over her, and flashed her a dazzling smile before moving his mouth to her ear.

“The power that flows through your veins is unbelievably arousing to me, Sig,” he whispered. “That smoke swirling around you, your hair whipping about your face, your eyes darkening. By Hel…” His voice gave out on him.  His trousers were becoming far too tight.

She pushed half-heartedly at his chest. “Get off me, you idiot.”  

She’d meant it to sound genuine, but she was a terrible liar, apparently.  Her voice was becoming raspy as he kissed her neck.

“Loki, you can’t keep doing this.” She was beginning to think that she had no resolve at all. “You can’t shut me up with sex every-”

His mouth covered hers, effectively doing exactly that.  Shutting her up.  And she was letting him.  Again.

1 “Black Beatles” by Rae Sremmurd (Violin cover performed by Daj Jordan uk), 2 “Bad Guy” by Billie Eilish (violin cover performed by ItsAMoney), 3 “Heathens” by Twenty One Pilots (violin/cello/bass cover performed by Simply Three), 4 “Royals” by Lorde (violin cover performed by Daniel Jang), 5 “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran (violin/viola cover performed by sleightlymusical and ThatViolaKid), 6 “I Fall Apart” by Post Malone (violin cover performed by Rhett Price), 7 “Am I Wrong” by Nico & Vinz (violin cover performed by Damien Escobar)