Here's My Hand, Baby, Take It or Leave It
Time doesn't love you anymore
But I'm still knocking at your door, honey
We can run forever, if forever's what's in store
-Time- Mikky Ekko
She was his request; Thor had known for a long while that his brother was in love, but he had not expected this. When Loki was found after his fall from the bifrost, he was shaking and cold, a shell of the brother Thor had known, with two names on his lips. He was like a child again, who wanted only two things. He wanted his big brother, and he wanted to marry her; the woman he had longed for his whole life. Despite the attrocities Loki had committed, Thor wanted his brother to have everything he wanted in the world, so he agreed with trepidation. He was well aware of Loki's desires, but he wasn’t so sure that the lady would be so accommodating of these demands; a life married to a prince who was doomed to spend at least some years in prison for what he had done was nothing anyone would agree to so easily, in Thor's mind; what woman would agree to marry someone she would have to live without for so long anyway? Thor briefly wondered, even if the lady (whever she may be) was ammenable, if Odin would allow Loki to have his wedding night before shutting him away. He hoped, for his brother’s sake, that he would, but still worried that the object of Loki’s affections would reject him and make the whole ordeal a pointless effort to begin with.
The God of Thunder ate his words quickly, however. The moment he and Loki were within the halls of Asgard once more, Loki’s complexion was already returning. Thor was starting to notice his eyes were already brighter when a blur of movement fluttered past him and suddenly his brother was no longer walking at his side; he was trapped, happily it seemed, between a column and a girl. The first thing Thor noticed was that she was beautiful- her hair was long, past her waist, and black, like Loki’s, but warmer, shining warm red and amber when exposed to the sun. She was almost as tall as Loki, which was rare- even the Lady Sif barely grazed Loki’s shoulder. Her face was rounded slightly, less sharp than he expected; her beauty was softly elegant, not cold and harsh, but her eyes carried a spark of trickery. The next thing he noticed, when he was through admiring the woman, was that his brother was wrapped around her, taking barely a moment to look into her golden irises before kissing her, which she returned so fiercely that he needed the support of the column to keep him standing, and they appeared to be eating each other alive. Their love was combative, in a quiet way- they looked to be fighting beautifully, so that it looked like a dance, moving away from the support of the building and crashing to the ground as though they meant to do it all, rolling gracefully for a few feet before Loki stopped them so as to be on top of her and she hooked one leg around his waist. Thor turned away blushing when he realized she was wearing no underthings; just his brother’s cloak tied into a dress around her in a knot that his brother undid with one tug. This raised many questions for Thor, but he walked away, laughing softly to himself, thinking that at least Loki would have no trouble convincing the love of his nearly immortal life to marry him after all.
The wedding was beautiful. Loki awaited her arrival with his brother, who patiently put up with his endless bragging of his bride to be, how she was so magnificent that no other creature could compare. Asgardian marriages dictated that the couple enter the hall separately, and meet at the altar where All-Father would perform the necessary enchantments and rites to bind them to each other. The couple was then given an afternoon to be together before a feast that was to last all night.
The Bride waited with Sif in the opposite hall, threading a green sash through her gold dress- she wanted him to see her as his wife completely, and wearing his colors seemed to be the best way. Sif and Thor would agree later, when the time came to compare notes, that neither of them were at all nervous to be getting married. They were relieved. Loki was grateful to be with her before his sentence, and she seemed as though she had waited far too long to touch him and was done waiting. Sif and Thor both watched in wonder, as did the entire hall of guests, as the couple made their way toward each other. They met at the altar, and the world froze. Speech was lost on all but All-Father, and that day, the look of love between them gained this woman a new nickname- Tamer of The Beast; for surely she must be powerful to have the jealous, pained, troubled prince without a guiding light under her spell, and be enduring enough to bring him home. Her patience, it seemed, was endless. They left the hall mere moments (or so it seemed) later, husband and wife, Loki and his Lady. Myth has since referred to her as many things, but the most common is Sigyn. To all in Asgard, she is known simply as Senna. And she gave all a glimmer of hope, even as Loki was imprisoned the next day, that the Prince was saved, and it was she that had saved him. They had no idea at the time, though they would all learn, what bloodthirst lay beneath their sweetness and smiles, and perfect image of love.
Behind closed doors, the proceedings were much different than what anyone else had believed.
“I will always fight for you, I will gladly kill for you, and I will bleed for you. I will give you a kingdom, and I will love you always, and not even death could ever keep us apart,” he promised as they walked away from the altar and closed their now shared bedchamber door behind them. The second they did, his knife was out. She used her magic to spare the golden gown from his completely welcome assault on her, allowing him to slice his way through her underthings, and then when she was naked before him, he began cutting a line down her chest, between her breasts, and down her stomach to her navel. The cut was shallow, barely enough to draw the droplets of blood he hungrily licked away before ripping out of his own clothing. She barely had a second to admire his astonishing body before she was being lifted off her feet and thrown down on to the bed, only to bury his face between her legs and bite mercilessly at her hot center, already dripping wet for him. He lifted his face, but her hands forced him back down. He glared at her and suddenly her wrists were chained to the bed posts, and she could not move. He growled in pleasure at her snarl of frustration, and moved up the bed to kiss her. She craned her neck to reach for the kiss, and he leaned in to indulge her but before his lips reached hers, he slammed into her roughly, tearing through her, and he bit down on her neck as she cried out in pleasurable pain. She was his, at long last.
“Unchain me or I will kill you,” she growled and he grinned.
“You cannot kill me. You love me,” he hissed and she smiled and exposed her neck willingly to him.
“As you love me you fool,” she mocked and he laughed, and kissed her in earnest. His mouth found his way all over her body over the course of the afternoon, and by the time they arrived at the feast, they were both sporting bruises, slices, and bandages on their wrists, where chains had sliced through them both, and the chamber maids had to burn the sheets that were soaked through with blood. Only Thor seemed to notice, and his heart sank slightly.
She will not make him better, he thought in dismay. They are the same. Their first act in their marriage was to destroy each other.
But he said none of this aloud, and continued celebrating, not knowing that Senna was planning to show her husband a way through the mountain, to the realms outside of Asgard, later that night before he was locked away.