~Thirty Minutes Later, A Mile Outside the City~

Sigyn was freezing cold, and not just because a fresh coat of snow now covered every surface in Asgard.  She’d been riding back to the palace stables, when it was suddenly cold enough to give her frostbite, every bit of exposed skin crusting over with a thin layer of ice so cold that it burned bad enough to bring tears to her eyes.

What the Hel?

Grimacing, she brought a hand to her face to wipe away the tears as she rode, but they were frozen solid, and when she tried to pull her hand away, it yanked on her cheek, nearly ripping the skin open.  She cried out in pain and left her hand there for a moment, doing her best to focus on the fire within her.  Closing her eyes tightly, she winced as black smoke seeped from her fingers, the heat rising to the surface, melting the tears enough to let her bring her hand down.  Jaw dropping, she watched with wide eyes as her hand began to freeze over again.  

No way in all the nine was this due to the unusually cold winter.  No, this was something else altogether.  This was magic.  Extremely unpleasant magic.  Was Loki doing this?  Did this have something to do with their blood bond?

She pulled Móða to a skidding stop on an icy patch of cobblestone and turned back to the forest, squinting to see better through the snow.  He had disappeared from the powdery white clearing at the base of the mountain where Thor had been with Sif.  She hadn’t seen them herself, but the blood bond had allowed her to see through Loki’s eyes at the time, albeit blurred and hazy, and his interpretation of his brother and Sif had very clearly been that Thor was manhandling her.  Sigyn had been more than a little disturbed by the sight herself, but in her opinion, Thor could manhandle whoever he wanted to so long as Loki damn well continued to manhandle her.  

It dawned on her now as she peered across the open terrain that she could no longer feel his emotions or see what he saw, and according to him, that only happened if they were in different realms.  However, even if they couldn’t see through each other’s eyes or feel if they were sad or happy or any other number of emotions, they could still feel the physical sensations of their surroundings.  Furious, she tugged the reins and bolted for the forest.  Loki had left Asgard, and his destination was literally giving her frostbite.  

Jotunheim.  

Surely, he hadn’t used the Bifrost.  Heimdall wouldn’t allow a prince of Asgard to go to Jotunheim alone, would he?   She spotted horse tracks in the snow leading into the trees.  Was there a portal that led to that cold rock of a realm in the forest?  The zig zag pattern of the tracks was making her queasy, but a low velvety voice dulled the nausea instantly.

“Miss me already?” Loki, astride Sinir, came up behind her silently, the snow muffling the sound of hooves.  

Relieved to see him alive and in one piece, with no apparent injuries, smirking at her, she reached for him.  She clung to him as though he’d been gone a great deal longer than twenty minutes, and once she’d had her fill of the embrace, she slapped him right on the cheek as hard as she could.  

“Gods dammit, Loki!  Jotunheim?  Are you mad?”

Glaring at her, he grabbed her hand and yanked her forcefully against him, pulling her as close as the horses would allow.  She looked positively incredulous and tried to pull away from him.

“You could’ve been killed!” she shrieked.

Gods, she was unbelievably pissed off that after that stunt he’d just pulled, he had the gall to try to hug her, and worse that her instinct was to crawl onto his lap and let him.

“Stop your whining, Sig,” he said, and caught her lips with his, not caring that his cheek still stung from the slap.

The trip had been exhilarating.  He’d come up with a plan, a brilliant plan, and seeing her angry with him was incredibly arousing, to be honest.  He wouldn’t even mind the sting of another slap.  Pulling back from her enough to catch his breath, he smiled wide, green eyes shining.

“I’m very much alive,” he whispered, biting his lip as he pulled her back for another deep kiss.

She caught herself before she moaned into his mouth.  Determined not to let that sinful tongue of his play with her head any longer, she mustered up the strength to pull away from him and put her hand over his mouth to stop him from trying to kiss her again.

“What was the purpose of your little excursion then?” she whispered harshly, eyes flashing. “Sightseeing?”  

He reached up carefully and pulled her hand away from his mouth.  Eyes on hers, he smirked and kissed her palm.

“Just a bit of fun, darling,” he said, eyebrows raised, the picture of innocence.  

Tilting her head, she gave him a look.  Norns, with those wide eyes and boyish smile, he must have gotten away with every nasty little trick as a child.  Well, obviously it hadn’t worked on his father (it still didn’t work on the old man), but without a doubt, Frigga had been more than a little… forgiving.

“Tell me the truth, Loki,” she said, eyes narrowed, attempting to use their bond somehow to see through him.

Her efforts proved useless though.  He’d locked up whatever dealings he’d had with the monsters and swallowed the key.  Snaking his arm around her waist, he pulled her onto the saddle behind him.  Something about this entire situation had her on edge, for him, and now that her anger had had time to dissipate, she wanted to keep him as close as possible.  She reached around his neck, and turned his head, bringing his mouth to hers.

“It’s near time for night meal,” he said, smiling against her lips. “There’ll be time for that later.” Calling for Móða to follow, he kicked Sinir into a full gallop toward the stables.

---

~That Night, The Dining Hall~

Sigyn gagged at the way Thor was aggressively chewing on a leg of meat (his beard was filthy!) as she and Loki approached him and his friends at the head dining table for the celebratory night meal.  As soon as Thor spotted them, he stood from his chair and grabbed his younger brother by the shoulders, pulling him into a bone crushing hug.  Cringing at the grease stain Thor’s hands left on his tunic, Loki rolled his eyes and grabbed a napkin to wipe it clean.  He then patted Thor on the back of his head twice.

“Congratulations, brother,” he said, flashing Thor a bright smile. “I fear for Asgard like never before.”

Laughing out loud, Thor sat back down and resumed his assault on his dinner.

“You should fear for Asgard, Loki,” he said between bites. “Because you will be my chief counsel.”

“Can’t wait,” Loki said under his breath and plucked a goblet from a passing tray.

Taking her seat next to him, Sigyn peered at the contents of the cup and made a face.  Mead.  She absolutely despised mead.  Ever since she’d come to Asgard, it was either mead, or hot tea, or water.  Godsdammit− why did they provide nothing else to drink?  Maybe there were different choices further out from the palace.  Not that it mattered right now.  

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a cup for herself.  After a few drinks, the mead would start to taste like everything else anyway.  And she wasn’t interested in staying sober during this meal, with everyone buzzing about Thor’s coronation, and fawning all over him.  She held the cup to her lips and sniffed.  Ugh.  There was no need to wait for it to suddenly become appealing, was there.

Bottoms up.

Before she could throw the drink back, Loki swiped the cup from her.

“What are you-”

“Shh,” he said, cutting her off with a finger to his lips.

He then dipped that finger into her cup, swirling it in the mead, and it turned a deep crimson.  He sniffed at it, swirled again, and taking a sip, pleased with his work, he handed the heavy steel cup back to her.  She didn’t need to drink it to know what it was.  She could smell it without even lifting it to her nose.  Robust, earthy, with a hint of oak.  Licking her lips, she looked from the cup up to Loki’s face.  He was of course smirking, and she smiled back, bringing the drink to her lips.

“Did you just turn that into proper wine for me?”

Taking a long drink, she melted into her seat, and he leaned into her, lazily resting his arm across the back of her chair, nodding.  Winking, he kissed her cheek.

“It was nothing,” he whispered with a shrug.

She downed the drink quickly and moaned, thoroughly enjoying the way his chest rose and fell faster at the sound.

“Mmmm.  Your tricks continue to be most convenient,” she said, drifting into wine heaven.

Valhalla, he’d made it as delicious as the best reds from Vanaheim.  Was there anything he couldn’t do perfectly?

Noticing the group’s empty goblets, Fandral shouted at a passing servant girl.

“More mead!”  

The girl quickly poured another round for them, blushing as his hand grazed her backside, and scurried away.  Having seen it, Sigyn glared at him as she pushed the mead that had been set down in front of her by the poor servant girl to Loki and waited for him to fix the drink again.

“Tell me, Fandral,” Sigyn said, setting her jaw, “is there a maidservant in Asgard who shall be spared from seeing the color of your bedsheets?”  

The dashing blond man tossed back his fifth drink within the hour and winked at her. 

“She has not …. yet.  But once she visits them, they’ll be ripe with fresh red.”

Sigyn choked on her wine, suddenly put off by its crimson hue.

“You are sick, Fandral,” she spat out, coughing into her napkin. “Was that comment necessary?”  

Side-eyeing Fandral, Loki rubbed Sigyn’s back as she coughed.

“Tactless cretin,” he said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to their plates. “We’re trying to eat.”

Seeing the face Sigyn made at her red drink, he grabbed her cup, swirling his finger in it until it transformed into a freshly chilled whiteinstead.  The alcohol having gone to her head, she reached for him, kissing him openly.

My god of mischief, I do adore that magical finger of yours.  

Hearing her thoughts, he shifted in his seat, adjusting his tightening breeches and stifled a moan as her tongue darted into his mouth.  By Hel, he loved it when she called him that.  Breathing a bit harder, he moved his mouth to her ear.

“I’d be happy to use my magical finger in a more private setting,” he whispered, behind the privacy of her loose hair.

Thor cringed at their display and held his hand up, trying to block the image of his brother and Sigyn practically eye fucking each other right across from him.

“Ugh, stop, please!” he shouted, clearly drunk. “Tis bad enough hearing of Fandral’s sexual conquests.  Save it for your bedchambers, little brother.”  

“I don’t get it,” Volstagg piped up between bites, chomping away at a block of cheese, looking very akin to a huge auburn rodent. “What’s wrong with red sheets?  It’s a lovely color!”

Throwing his head back, Fandral laughed. “Really, Volstagg?”

He made a lewd gesture to show the rotund warrior what he had meant, but Volstagg only raised his eyebrows and shrugged, still lost.  

“What am I missing?” he asked, nearly incomprehensible, spraying bits of cheese as he spoke.

Putting a slight distance between himself and Sigyn, Loki rolled his eyes.  That ginger bearded brute was more brainless than an ox.  Loki was embarrassed for him.

“What he means is that his sheets will turn red with the girl’s blood when she is fucked for the first time, you giant buffoon,” Loki clarified, running his hand down his face.

Volstagg’s eyes widened, and he nodded.

“Ah, yes, I get it now,” he said, turning to Sigyn. “Fandral is basically the male equivalent of a harlot, you know.”

She burst into stomach cramping laughter.

“I’d already figured that out,” she managed to spit out as she wiped tears from her eyes, “but I’ll keep that in mind if he makes me an offer.”

Volstagg glanced back and forth between Loki and Sigyn. “But I thought you and Loki were…” he trailed off, clearing his throat.

Loki raised his eyebrows, looking from Volstagg to Sigyn and back again.

“Thought we were what?” he asked, smirking.

Sif coughed, her drink going down the wrong pipe, and Thor patted her on the back, wishing that he were deaf momentarily.

“Oh gods, Volstagg, please don’t say anymore,” Sif pleaded once she was able to speak. “Thor is sitting right here!  Do you wish to make him vomit all over the floor?  Why are we even talking about this?” She looked at Fandral accusingly, and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Don’t look at me, he brought it up!” he said, pointing at Volstagg.

“This conversation has taken a rather lurid turn,” Hogun said quietly into his drink.

“Well, we all saw them kissing!” Volstagg shouted, continuing to chomp away as he spoke. “Is it not a natural assumption to assume that they are…. you know?”   

Shrugging, Loki bit into an apple and spoke once he’d swallowed his bite.

“We may be doing something like that.”

The group looked stunned that he had confirmed it, and Loki leaned his head onto the back of his chair, arching his neck as he finished his apple.  After a beat, Sigyn leaned over to him.

“You mean we are doing something exactly like that,” she said and licked his Adam’s apple. 

Loki sat up like the back of his chair had electrocuted him and spit half chewed apple on his plate, raising an eyebrow at her as she bit into a smile.  Had she just licked him?  Right here, in full view, at an extremely public dinner?  Yes, she had, and from the looks of it, she didn’t regret it in the slightest.  For a split second, he felt a bit guilty for making that wine a little too… magical.

But then he glanced at Thor and his friends, noting their jaws on the floor, as though Sig had just sprouted antlers, and it was hilarious.  Lips pressing together, he looked back at her, and when her shoulders started shaking, they both nearly fell out of their seats from cackling.  Composing himself, he threw his napkin on his plate and stood.  He grabbed Sigyn’s hand and pulled her up with him.  He leaned down and moved her hair away from her neck.

“Come on, Sig,” he whispered into her ear, his hands gripping her hips. “You need to thank me for the wine.”

She shivered as she raised her eyes to meet his, and face red from anticipation, she turned to Thor and his friends.

“Guess we’re leaving now,” she said, grinning like an idiot and waved goodbye as Loki all but dragged her to the doors.  

As they neared the exit, he caught Theoric staring at them, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up when he heard the captain thinking so loudly that he couldn’t not hear it.

His EVIL highness probably ties her up against her will, or shoves her to her hands and knees and rips her open with his-

Setting his jaw, Loki shut the words out of his mind and pulled her closer, his hand firmly grasping her hip.  He was damn near ready to conjure a dagger, cut the man’s limbs off one by one and slit his throat in front of the entire hall.  Instead, he leaned down to kiss her hair as they exited the hall and made for his chambers.

---

~Next Morning, The Private Royal Palace Garden~

The garden, still iced over, was the location of Sigyn’s lesson with Loki the next morning.  Since Frigga was busy with the coronation arrangements, he had offered to take over as her tutor.

“Why can we not study indoors, Loki?” she whined, teeth chattering as she wrapped her thick cloak around the front of her body and hopped up and down on her feet. “I can only stand so much cold before I succumb to frostbite.”  

Clad in his cold weather armor, Loki rolled his eyes at her tone and sat on his haunches, gesturing for her to do the same.

“I’m afraid today’s lesson must be performed outdoors, lest the palace workers experience the same fate as Jöður and your other toasted villagers,” he said, blowing into his hands as she sat down next to him. “Now conjure a fire for us before you succumb to frostbite.” 

Grinning, he pulled the hood of his long leather armored jacket over his head, but Sigyn jumped to her feet and threw up her hands.

“Loki, I’ve told you before that I can manipulate fire, but I cannot create it out of thin air.  I tried for hours with your mother.  I tire of reminding you.”

Unbelievable.  Not five minutes into the lesson, and her substitute tutor had already exasperated her.  She much preferred him teaching her new sexual positions over teaching her magic.  Her mind drifted to the night before, her eyes glazing over in the process.

Seeing the images of himself naked in her mind, he snorted.  Good gods, this woman was insatiable.  Not that he minded in the slightest, giving her as much pleasure as he possibly could (which she was all too happy to reciprocate), but he truly wanted to help her hone her magic skills at the moment.  That, and his mother was counting on him to do so, and he didn’t want to disappoint her.

“That’ll be enough of that,” he said, grabbing Sigyn’s gloved hands and pulling her back to the ground. “Now tell me, where did the fire that ruined Sif’s hair come from?”  

He continued his hold on her hands as she scowled, the unpleasant memory replacing her blissful train of thought and sending a wave of nausea through her stomach.  Clearing her throat, she took down the picture of the war goddess’ burnt body and hung it on the back wall of her mind.

“I have absolutely no idea how I did that,” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“Sig, if you did it once, then you can do it again,” he said softly, putting his first finger under her chin to lift her face and meet her eyes. “You have the talent for conjuring fire.  You just need to work on your skill.  That’s why I’m here.  Natural talent is useless if you don’t have skill when you need it.”

Frowning, she tilted her head. “I have some skill, Loki,” she said, defensive.

She thought back to the day before when she melted her frozen tears.  That had required skill, had it not? 

“Not enough,” he said, lips pursed. “Practice, practice, practice.  Why do you think I get up so early?  Well,” he paused when she smirked at him and raised her eyebrow, “before I had you in my bed, of course.”

She bit her lip, smiling at his wiggling eyebrows.

“I was practicing my magic,” he answered for her. ‘What, do you think I just woke up one day and conjured a double of myself?”

“Of course not, I’m not completely lacking in intelligence,” she said, glaring at him. “I know it takes-” She stopped abruptly, brow furrowing in confusion.  Wait, what?

“Conjured a double?  I thought you could only make an illusion of yourself.  Are you talking about something corporeal?” Her jaw dropped then, gaping as a second Loki sat beside her and draped his arm across her shoulder.

“What in the name of Odin…” She trailed off, marveling at the attention to detail.

Every fine line, every pore, every little speck of blue in his emerald eyes, it was all there.  Curious, she moved closer to the second Loki, despite her hesitance to touch him.  She looked at Loki, the real one, and pointed at the second one.

“Can you feel what he feels?” 

He flicked his wrist, and the double leaned over and kissed her, enjoying the blush that spread across her cheeks.

“If he were only an illusion then, no, I wouldn’t feel it,” he said. “Your hand would go straight through him.  An illusion isn’t real.  It’s a visual lie, but he is not an illusion, thus, you can touch him just as you would me, and what he feels, I feel.”

The double wrapped his arms around her, and she watched Loki from the corner of her eye.  His hands were open, palms up glowing green in front of him, eyes narrowed at the double.  Disconcerted, she pulled away from the too real second one, and he dropped his hands.

“I don’t recall any of your mother’s spell books mentioning this sort of magic.” Pursing her lips, she poked the double as he dissipated into a bright green light.

“Oh, yes, they do,” he said, reaching out to pull her up against him, her back to his chest. 

“Just not explicitly,” he continued and circled his legs around her. “He is a complex cocktail of mind control, teleportation, the elements, conjured light and disappearance, and siren magic.  Her books list each of these under different headings—huga stjórna, vöruflutningar á huga, eldur, vatn, jörð, vindur, ljós, hverta, and sírenu seiðr.  According to those books, you should never combine unique seiðr because it turns into black magic, which can,” he paused and cleared his throat, “result in death if the wielder is inexperienced.”

Eyes wide, she looked up at him.

“Death?” she asked, her hold on his hands around her waist tightening.

“Shhh,” he shushed her and kissed her nose. “It’s fine.  I know what I’m doing.  He is a delicate balance, and it is exhausting to maintain his existence.  He is my original recipe, if you will, and I worked on him for two hundred years before I measured the ingredients successfully.”  

“But black magic is illegal in Asgard,” she whispered harshly. “What happens if you are caught?  And what did you mean by siren?  What, does he lead ships astray and to their end with beautiful songs?”

Loki laughed into her hair, both amused and flattered by her concern.

“The likelihood of being caught is slim to none as he is an exact copy of me.  There is not a soul in the nine realms that could spot the difference between us.  Not even you.  Darling, it’s not as though I traipse all over Asgard with him at my side.  He goes in my stead if I wish it.  And, no, he does not lead ships astray.  His purpose is to distract, to confuse, to kill if needs be.”

“But if you can feel what he does,” she kept her voice low, “what happens to you if he is killed?” She pulled his arms further around her waist, panic rising in her chest at the thought of his doppelganger, for lack of a better word, inadvertently taking Loki from her permanently.   

Feeling her anxiety, he kissed her cheek, trying to calm her. “The point of impact stings, but no physical injury to my person occurs.”  

This conversation was suddenly very off putting to him.  The fear rolling off of her was giving him a hint of nausea.  He needed to change the subject.  A thought occurred to him then, and it replaced his nausea with warmth, his lower stomach twisting with arousal.

“Come to think of it, since I feel what he feels, it might be fun to test his abilities in bed.” 

Pulling her hood back, moving his mouth from her cheek to her neck, he ran a hand up her torso, his fingers teasing the low neckline of her dress, and he nipped her ear.  She thought on it for a moment.  It did sound entertaining, though strange.  But something was nagging at her too much for her to just drop everything and have a threesome with Loki and his …. friend.

“I’m open to experimenting with him as long as his purpose isn’t to kill me,” she responded, only half joking.  “Speaking of which, has he killed anyone?”

He sighed and dropped his hands from her.  He’d said too much, and his attempts at hiding the more devious deeds of his conjured twin were proving futile.  He had been ready to end this lesson early and do something far more fun.  He chose his words carefully, hoping that his honesty would encourage her to drop the issue.

“Not in Asgard,” he whispered, the line between his brows deepening. “He is talented at…running errands…if you will, for me.”

Swiveling her head, she glared at him. “Does he run errands in Jotunheim?”

He glared back at her, his lip twitching. “Let it go, Sigyn.”

She bristled at his use of her full name rather than the more affectionate Sig that he’d taken to calling her.  Shaking her head, she returned to the more important matter.  If he’d sent the double, he must have assessed that the danger was too great to risk death.  Then why would he have gone at all?  He must have interacted with the Jotuns and for what purpose?  Was he planning to do something to Thor?  Surely not.  He loved Thor, even if he was jealous of him.  Blowing out a heavy breath, she pushed to her feet, and paced across the icy grass.

“How could I possibly let it go?” she asked, her voice raising as she ran a hand through her hair. “If I’d taken a trip to the frost giants home unaccompanied, would you not beg for answers?  How can you be so careless?  So reckless?!  I’ve bound myself to you, Loki!  If you die, I die!”

He was on his feet before she could continue, one hand at the back of her neck, the other clamping down over her mouth.

“Do you wish all of Asgard to hear you?  Desist your raving!” He pulled his hand away from her mouth and put a finger to his own, giving her a warning look.

“I am not raving,” she whisper-shouted, shoving him away, eyes filling with hot tears. “I simply care enough about your life to wish that you not bargain with it!”

She turned on her heel and started toward the nearest palace entry, but he wouldn’t have it.  He caught her arm and pulled her back to him, wrapping her in a hug.  Trailing his hand up and down her spine, he held her shaking body as she pulled at the collar of his coat, her breath scalding his throat.  

“I’m no fool,” he said into her hair. “I don’t bargain with my life.  Oh, and let me explain one more thing.  The blood bond wouldn’t kill you just because I was killed, Sig. That’s not how it works.” He thought on that for a second and frowned.  Well, he hoped that wasn’t how it worked.

Scoffing, she pulled back to look him in the eye. “I’m not talking about the damn blood bond!  I’ve given you my heart, and you will break it, break me, if you get yourself killed!”

Closing his eyes, he sighed.  There it was.

Love.  It was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him, and at the same time, the absolute worst.  Angry at his own stupid heart for getting him in this mess, he pushed her back (not too hard) and squared his shoulders.  His chest heaved, and he could feel his body shaking.

“You want to know why I refuse to say that I love you?” he asked, jaw clenched. “The frost giants could not with all their strength destroy me as you could,” he whispered, sniffing as he blinked back tears.

Wrecked by his words, she fisted and flexed her hands, successfully containing her fire. 

“You fucking coward,” she whispered shakily, and swiped the tears from her cheeks.  

Grabbing her satchel, she slung it across her body and marched off across the frozen grounds.  He stayed there, squelching the desire to run after her, and watched her until she disappeared into the palace.  It had taken everything in him to not yank her to him before she could leave and throw her over his shoulder, return to his chambers, and show her just how much he loved her.  Maybe she’d forget his cruel words, forget Jotunheim.  What was wrong with him?  Oh, how he absolutely hated that he couldn’t turn back time to two minutes ago and stop himself from saying those things.  He’d never meant to hurt her.  Running a hand through his hair, he shook the snow out of it, and keeping his head high despite feeling lower than ever before, he returned to the palace.

---

~Twelve Hours Later, Nearly Midnight~

Staring into the flames of the large hearth in his bedroom that night, Loki chewed his lip so hard that it nearly bled.  He shouldn’t have been surprised when she did not come to him.  But dear gods, how he’d hoped she would, if not for any reason other than to satiate her physical desire for him.  Sighing heavily, he shook his head.  He knew though that what she felt, what he felt, was infinitely more than just physical desire.  And it was for that reason, that he felt like his heart was splitting to pieces, knowing he’d split hers too.  Head in his hands, he sank into his hearth sofa.

He’d not seen her at all the rest of the day.  Not in the arena.  Not in the armory.  Not at second or last meal.  He’d ventured through the markets, checked the pubs.  He’d seen Móða in her stall in the stables still, so clearly Sig hadn’t gone riding.  He’d been to her chambers only to be told by Kyaer that her mistress hadn’t been there since that morning.

Was she avoiding him purposefully?  She had to be.  Yes, he could have used the blood bond to discover her whereabouts, but he hadn’t wanted to feel her emotions, so he’d closed off his access to the bond ever since their fight in the garden that morning.  She had been right.  He was a coward, and he was completely and utterly wrecked.  

Standing from the sofa, he crossed the room and yanked the floor to ceiling drapes open and climbed the steps of his balcony.  He’d drawn the drapes earlier to hide behind them (because he was pathetic).  He could see the windows of her chambers from this spot if he wanted to.  Before he could stop himself, he gripped the ledge, and leaned over the stone only to find that her room was dark.  Nostrils flaring, he continued to stare at the room, as though she might magically appear the longer he looked.

Where was she?  Surely, she wasn’t in bed already!  Dammit, why did he even look?  He’d just needed some fresh air!  Why did he have to feel like this?  He’d been alone his whole life, and he’d been fine.  But now?  Now he felt physically ill without this woman he’d known all of two months, maybe?  Seething at his need to see her, to make her come back to him, he slammed his fist into a nearby pillar.  This was absurd.  Why was he fighting this?  He was just torturing himself by trying to …. to what …. let her go?  Let her run off after an argument over nothing and then just call the whole thing off?  Did he really think that that was even possible?  No.  He didn’t.

Defeated and desperate to see her and apologize (for the rest of his life) he closed his eyes and opened his mind, scanning the golden halls and rooms for her.  It didn’t take long before the smell of books filled his nostrils, before the fire in her veins heated his skin, before the breaking of her heart had tears filling his eyes.

Sigyn was in the library, and her mind was racing.  A horse out the gate could not have kept up.  Face screwing up in misery, he struggled to sort through the chaos that he’d caused within her.  He listened, feeling every scrap of pain rip her apart, feeling as though the air in his lungs had transformed into her black smoke, and he choked on her despair, gasping for air.

I’m going to lose him.  They’ll kill him.  I fell in love with the DARK prince of Asgard.  What the Hel did I expect?  I’m a fool, an absurdly arrogant fool to believe it possible that he could love me the way I love him.  But he DOES love me.  I know he does!  But not enough, not enough.  I cannot lose him.  I should go home, but I can’t.  HE’S here.  I can’t leave him.  I’d die without him.  Fuck, I’m being such a melodramatic whining entitled little…. ugh.  Maybe I should put us out of our misery and kill us both.  Maybe that’s why he went to Jotunheim.  He’s going to kill us because it’s too much.  Love destroys us.  Maybe I should just jump off the Bifrost-

His eyes blew wide at that.

JUMP off the Bifrost?

No way in Hel was she truly suicidal, but his gut twisted painfully, nonetheless.  He blasted open the doors of his room and ran, his long legs covering the long distance from his corridor to the library in a quarter of the time it would take any other Æsir.  Even Thor with all his physical prowess could not have matched his speed.  He came to an abrupt halt at the doors of the library when he heard a deep voice, too deep to belong to her.

“I’ll say it again, Sigyn.  He is evil and cruel and will be the death of you.  He can only bring you sorrow.  Nothing more.”

“You know nothing, Captain.”

“Theoric.  My name is Theoric.  I beg of you, Sigyn, address me as such!”

“For Hel’s sake, leave me be!”

“Please, please, please.  Just listen to me-”

“Take your hands off me.”

“Not until I have your ear.”

“Theoric, I swear, if you don’t let go of me, I will-”

He threw the doors open with such force that they came off their hinges, and Theoric immediately dropped his hands from her arms, staring with thinly veiled fear.  He stepped back, hands raised as if in surrender, as Loki stalked toward him.  That hawk had put his hands on her and kept his hands on her after she explicitly told him to remove them.  Another man had touched Sig.

MY Sig.     

Seeing the glint of his dagger in his hand, Sigyn hurried to Loki, positioning herself in between the men.

“Don’t you dare,”she warned him, placing her hands on his chest. “You and I both know that he could not do so much as scratch me without succumbing to the same fate as Sif.”

“I would never hurt you, Sigyn,” Theoric scoffed.

She turned on him then, her back pressed against Loki’s front.

“Well, you certainly irritate me,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm her increasingly angry fire.

“Sigyn, please listen to me,” he pleaded and dared a step in her direction.

Intent on ending the hawk, Loki grit his teeth and pulled her behind him, but she quickly moved in front of him again, once more putting her hands on his chest.  He was overwhelmed with rage, with jealousy, with the fierce need to wrap his arms around her, to save her, to protect her.  It mattered not that she was right about being perfectly capable of taking care of herself. 

“Do you desire death so much, hawk,” he snarled, “that you would seek to take what I have already claimed as my own?”

Pointing his razor-sharp dagger at Theoric, he snaked his free hand around her waist and pulled her flush against him.  She bristled at the insinuation that she was some sort of possession (claimed as his own?) but shook it off.  That was a discussion for another time.  It was far more pressing in that moment that she halted this deadly confrontation in its tracks before it ran off the rails and crashed, effectively sending Loki to the dungeons for killing the captain of Odin’s personal guard.

She was also just bloody sick of these boys trying to rip each other apart to win the girl.  As though it wasn’t her decision who she wanted no matter which one drew the most blood in this ridiculous fight?  Grabbing Loki’s chin, she turned his head to face her, though he continued to glare at Theoric and somehow pulled her even closer.  She looked sideways at the other one, only to find him glaring right back at this one.  Rolling her eyes, she blew the hair out of her face.  Alright, she was done with this idiotic battle of testosterone.

“Enough!” she shouted, the flames in the hearth glowing brighter and shooting sparks onto the rug.

Thankfully, it didn’t catch fire, so she didn’t need to deal with that, too.  Instead, she snatched the dagger from Loki’s hand and turned it sideways, shoving it against his chest.  Finally meeting her narrowed eyes, he returned the weapon to his boot.  She spoke firmly then, her eyes never leaving his.

“I suggest you leave, Theoric.  That is, if you wish to keep all your parts.”  

With a humorless snort, the captain gave them a wide berth and exited the hall silently.  Wondering to the gods why Sig hadn’t just let him kill that son of a bitch, Loki’s jealousy spiked.  He needed to mark her somehow, and he couldn’t wait another second.

She is MY woman.

Jaw set in determination, he put his other arm around her and with a surge of green, they reappeared in his chambers.  Ignoring the glaring of her eyes at him, he pushed her up against the wall beside his bed.

“All of that could have been avoided if only you had come to me,” he said, his mouth hovering over the skin below her ear as he slid his hands up her legs, the skirt of her dress bunching up around her thighs.

“Absolutely not,” she hissed, attempting to push the dress back down, thoroughly pissed with him. “Are you out of your mind?  I’m not letting you fuckme after that display in the garden.  Not to mention in the library five seconds ago.”

She fought him, pressing her hands against his strong body.  Godsdammit, he was too strong− she couldn’t get his hands off her, and that left her feeling weak and powerless once again.

“I’m not a toy that you can just wind up and play with after tossing it aside,” she growled.  

“I never said you were,” he said through his teeth, then grabbed the back of her hair and kissed her hard.

She yelped softly at the pain he’d inflicted on her scalp.  Oh Hel, she did not want to be turned on.  She did not want to want him like this.  She did not want to love the feeling of his hand gripping the back of her knee and hoisting her thigh up so forcefully over his hip that she knew she would have bruises.  

“I don’t want this,” she whispered, chest heaving as his mouth moved to her ear.

“I know you don’t mean that,” he said, unbuckling the front of his trousers.  Relief flooded him as soon as he was free of constriction. “You may be angry with me, Sig, but you still want me.”

She moaned (dammit!) as he pushed her harder against the wall, letting go of her thigh to shove her wrists above her head and hold them there.

“You’re right.  I do want you- I want you to stop,” she said weakly as his free hand ripped the top of her dress open.

“Pretty little liar, you are,” he groaned, his eyes roaming over the newly exposed skin. “You do not want me to stop.  You can’t hide it.  I can feel it, remember?”

Eyes meeting hers, he held her steady, waiting for the go ahead.  She gritted her teeth, angry that she couldn’t twist her body far enough to literally kick herself.

Fucking blood bond.

Even her most convincing poker face couldn’t hide the truth.  Despite his behavior that day, she still ached for him.  Her response to him was absurd.  And… wrong.

But was it really?  The bond allowed her to know his true feelings as well, and he may have yet refused to say it, but he loved her.  Breathing hard, she wrapped her legs around his hips, giving him her silent permission.  He was right.  There would be no denying him because she did want him.  Right here.  Right now.

Gasping against her mouth, he thrust up into her, and eyes rolling back, her mouth fell open.  He let go of her wrists to hold her legs, and she took advantage of her freed hands, yanking the hair at the back of his head just as hard as he had hers.  A low groan rumbled in his chest as she nipped the sensitive skin of his throat.

“You are mine,” he said tightly, then grabbed her chin, bringing her mouth to his in a deep kiss.

Pulling back long enough to catch his breath, he continued driving his hips up into her.  Overwhelmed and completely lost in the feeling of him inside and all around her, she just nodded in agreement, unable to respond verbally.  If she could speak, she would tell him this wasn’t one sided.  She would simply say “just as you are mine” because she had marked him, too.  If he said otherwise, it would be an absolute lie.  He wasn’t just possessive− he was almost obsessively protective of her.

Because he would be shattered if he lost me. 

Dropping his forehead to her shoulder, he pushed deeper, then deeper still a few more times.  He hissed against her neck when he came, and if he’d been more aware, he might have felt guilty for not giving her the chance to finish, too.  As it stood, however, he was too exhausted from the let down to care.

He could at least hold her though, so he did.  Keeping her in his arms, her legs still encircling him, he took her to his bed.  Fumbling to push the furs back, he stripped them of their remaining garments, and pulled her into the sheets, tangling his long limbs with hers.  Drifting into a dreamless sleep, barely conscious, he felt her breath against his ear, her thoughts piercing every cell in his body, leaving him bloodied and broken in pieces.

If he brings only sorrow, then so be it.  I will never love another.