There's a God Under My Bed

Darcy strode down one of the lengthier palace corridors, making her way to a very important meeting with an individual she had not seen for quite some time now.

It was unfortunate for her that she had not spent as much time thinking of them as she should have, for  all of her brain-space was, as of late, being hoarded by the greedy mental presence of her prince. Darcy didn’t think she could ever hate someone as much as she loved them, but Loki was getting pretty close.

He was her annoying, tall, frustrating, dark, skinny, handsome, annoying, nerdy, annoying little shit.

He’d changed over the summer. It wasn’t a bad change; in fact, Darcy would dare to call it a good change. He was more relaxed, he ate more, he left the library at least twice a day without her asking him to, and he’d physically grown a lot.

Not to mention, he trained with Thor almost every day and they didn’t wear shirts when they wrestled.

At first, Darcy refused to watch said fights for fear of an unfair struggle where Thor pulverized her prince. Well, she couldn’t say that didn’t happen because by the end of their matches, Loki looked like he’d been through Helheim. But Thor came out equally as thrashed. Throughout their matches, Loki held his own.

What Thor had in mass and strength, Loki made up for in dexterity and flexibility. It seemed it was a fairly even contest, so Darcy consented to watch.

The only problem was that they didn’t stop until one of them was unable to go on for whatever reason and there weren’t any rules in their matches so long as they didn’t use weapons.

After ten minutes of two extremely attractive, shirtless, cut, shirtless, sweaty, shirtless space princes beating each other to a pulp, Darcy was convinced they were aiming for a violent murder.

Eventually (an hour later), Loki triumphed because he did everyone watching the fight either a huge favor or massive disgrace by yanking Thor’s trousers down and gathering him in a dangerous looking headlock while he tried to pull his pants back up.

Darcy would have slapped that smug little smirk off Loki’s impertinent mouth for almost dying in hand-to-hand combat with his brother, but she didn’t for the following three reasons:

1.   Loki was really tired from almost being killed by Thor

2.   Loki was in a lot of pain from almost being killed by Thor

3.   Loki was so god damned attractive with sweat all over his body and dirt and even that dried trickle of blood from his mouth where he’d bit the inside of his cheek was so hot that she couldn’t really form words until he was properly dressed and she wasn’t distracted by how his pants hung on his hips. Was that even a thing an individual could be attracted to? Assuming that she was attracted to Loki which she totally wasn’t.

All dangerous brotherly love aside, there was only one thing that really bothered Darcy about Loki. And that was his propensity to make-out with every single lady on Asgard.

Darcy didn’t know exactly what he’d gotten up to over the summer, but she had the feeling that it was more than just getting his ass beat by Thor every day because pre-summer Loki would never dare to openly disrespect his own title to kiss fucking Lorelei in the middle of the fucking dance floor of a fucking ball to fucking honor the fucking ambassadors of fucking Vanaheim.

But it wasn’t just Lorelei. He couldn’t just stop there. No no. She had seen him make out with thirty-six ladies just within the past three months. Not that she was counting or anything. She wouldn’t even think to do that.

The kiss with Lorelei was the most public thing she’d seen him do. The other times it was almost as if he were setting himself up to get caught.

Two weeks ago there had been a meeting with the head of Asgard’s judicial branch. Odin and the First Einherjar planned the date in order to discuss a change in sentencing war criminals. At the time of the Great War, any war criminals would have just been killed. But they were making amendments to practice imprisonment. For some reason it seemed less civilized to kill a Vanir over their wrongs than a Jotunn.

Darcy had been invited to the meeting by Lord Solt Jegleson, the judicial leader. It surprised Darcy because she rarely agreed with Lord Solt, but they liked each other nonetheless. Solt might have been one of the most competent people running Asgard and while she did spend a fair amount of time bickering with him about whether or not Asgard should revive the creation of weapons made to kill Frost Giants, they were both open enough in their beliefs that they would take the time to acknowledge that the other’s reasoning was well founded.

That’s why she was invited. Odin and the Einherjar and Solt all thought in similar patterns. Darcy had an opposing view and Solt figured they needed that.

Well, Darcy had showed up to the meeting early, as she usually did, just to run over her arguments and to prepare to speak with Odin (the  guy gave her migraines). But when she opened the door to the conference room, Loki was there.

With Lady Jagala.

And their faces were stuck together.

Playing tonsil hockey.

Darcy had frozen in the doorway, completely unsure of what to do. Should she get mad? Run? Apologize and close the door? Loki only smiled at her like it was any other day as Lady Jagala fled from the room, embarrassed. He teased Darcy lightly about always being early and she poked his belly, his jests bringing her out of shock.

It was the first time she had accidentally caught Loki in the act and every time things played out the same. When they made plans to meet in the gardens, her seeking him out in the library, even in certain meeting rooms she was partial to, Loki always managed to be there with some lady. It was if his flirty escapades were made for her to witness.

Even so, Darcy maintained her cool.

It didn’t hurt to see him kiss all of those women. Why would it? Darcy and Loki were friends. Just friends. They’d always been just friends. She might have thought she had some interest in him at one point, but it was just a phase brought on by, most likely, her lusty teenage hormones.

So, she remained indifferent. Loki could kiss whoever he wanted. Fine by her. He could just keep doing that and she would sit by like a good little Advisor and take care of his public image which was quickly turning to shit because of the sheer amount of lip-locking he was partaking in on a daily basis.

The Asgardian public couldn’t really pin him on anything because the only proof they had that he’d actually been with any of the ladies was the witnesses’ accounts of him kissing Lorelei. He was discreet; Darcy being the only one to catch him at it.  The reality of his actions were a mystery to everyone but him; it was the rumors that were horrific.

What could be worse than Darcy walking in on Loki with his tongue in some girl’s mouth and their hands in his pretty dark hair?

What could be worse is hearing about it every god damned time she had to communicate with the ladies about anything. Usually they didn’t talk about such trivial things like who Loki was interested in, mostly because Loki had never really fancied anyone but Sigyn. Suffice to say, that ship had sailed.

But they were talking to her now. They gossiped and tittered over every little inkling that Loki had done something (or someone). Even if they had no proof, even if there had been no witness or verification, Prince Loki was every whisper of the wind, taunting her wherever she went.

And just when Darcy thought that she had heard it all, she walked into the ladies’ chambers one day to hear Lady Volla chattering quietly with a group of ladies about how good Loki was in bed. Darcy could recall Volla’s exact words: “Silvertongue indeed. By the gods, my legs are still shaking. I have never experienced so much pleasure in all my life.”

Loki had sex.

What?

With Lady Volla?

Why? When? How? All of these things were happening and she just didn’t know how to ask him without him thinking that she had feelings for him or something dumb like that. She didn’t. Yet, it made her feel dumb and icky on the inside when he didn’t even tell her that he had experience doing ‘the do’.

Loki never said anything to her about it. Not that she wanted to kiss Loki or anything. What a ridiculous notion.

She ignored Loki’s behavior as best she could, but it was a bit difficult to do when her job was to be his secretary/personal assistant/publicist/advisor/representative/manager. While she did do a great deal more with her political position on Asgard, her first tasks always involved managing Prince Loki’s life. Usually she liked it. She made Loki look good and helped him to be successful.

But it was really hard to fucking get that done when he was busy wetting his dick in every broad that ever gave him a sideways glance.

Sure almost everything that went around was a rumor, but as far as the media was concerned, a few rumors were all it took to sour the entire public image of Loki she’d worked to create.

Finally, it had reached the point where she was no longer able to do anything unless the rumors were to suddenly stop and Darcy was forced to write up a report and give it to Frigga.

Darcy wrote reports about all of the royals just to keep a personal file of their different public images at different points in time. Usually it was Thor that Darcy had to bring his parent’s attention to. And while Thor had been in worse situations (i.e. getting caught fornicating behind a tavern), Loki was causing more trouble.

As far as social standards went, Thor could get away with partying in the long run. He was still young and by the time he gets married and has kids, it would all be forgotten. He was a prince. It was expected that he go and ‘gain experience’ before settling down. Loki, however, was breaking every god damn conformity of the Asgardian higher class community. Yes, it was almost tradition for ladies of the court to try and have clandestine rich lovers. Emphasis on ‘clandestine’.

Darcy knew Loki; he could hide anything from anyone for as long as he wanted to. If Asgard suspected that he was fucking around with ladies of the court, it was because he wanted them to know.

Not only that, but ladies were typically very strict on keeping the pretense that they were virginal. It was stupid how the higher class still kept ‘virtue’ and ‘virginity’ as synonymous notions. Acting innocent in the sexual sense was of value in a public setting, so it was shocking, to say the least, that Loki has charmed as many women as the rumors claimed he had. Such extreme circumstances implied to the realm that Loki’s Silvertongue was good for a great many things.

Loki had turned himself into Asgard’s bad-boy and number one womanizer.

Darcy hadn’t been watching him go about his business, absolutely not. It wasn’t her fault that every time she went to go see him somewhere she found him in one compromising position or another. At least she never caught him with his pants down.

But if she had been watching, she would have seen that Loki kissed like he wanted to be seen. No one uses tongue in semi-public unless they want to be seen. Darcy should know; she had gone through the foreseeable phase of PDA. However, she hadn’t done this in a fucking palace where people’s titles were on the line.

Darcy couldn’t care less how much tongue Loki used or how nice his lips looked or how none of those ladies knew that Loki has a mole on his back just below his shoulder blade. Darcy knew about the mole and they didn’t. Therefore, she won.

Only she didn’t feel like a winner. Instead she got the feeling that Loki was kissing all of those ladies just to make her insides squirm.

She wished he would talk about it. Occasionally, at night when they were in bed, Darcy getting ready to sleep and Loki staying up to fool around with whatever magic he liked to work on in the wee hours of the morning, she would begin to ask him what was going on. But every time it was like he was expecting it, like he wanted her to say something and acknowledge the fact that he was swapping spit with all of Asgard.

Blame it on her stubbornness, but Darcy wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. Let him do what he wanted; it was fine by her.

Of course, it would be easier to say that if things between them weren’t so erratic.

One moment they would be sitting in her bed, bickering about whatever, and the next they’d be lost in the presence of the other. She would be in the middle of a sentence and his eyes would steal her words, the unearthly green alight with a wondrous glow, as if she was some mystic faerie who’d put him under her spell. Darcy didn’t need a mirror to know that his expression reflected her own.

And then the moment would pass. Darcy would finish her sentence and Loki would smirk like the little shit he was, reminding her that all was normal.

Even so, some parts of their relationship were not as they had been. Taking his arm at feasts, as was customary being that she was his advisor, now sent shivers down her spine. Searching him out in a crowd and finding him looking for her spawned a kaleidoscope of butterflies in her stomach. When he kissed her face, the light press of his lips to her temple or forehead brought so much blood to her ears that it hurt.

But, out of everything, their sleeping arrangement, which had always been a unique and important part of their relationship, remained the same; the warm, comforting feeling of being exactly where she was supposed to be hadn't changed.

Darcy could hardly remember when she and Loki started sleeping together, but they always kept the same unspoken bed rules. Loki’s side of the bed was near the wall and Darcy’s was at the edge so that she could easily get up to dress for school. Darcy could admit she was a bit of a bed-hog. They fell asleep with equally proportioned sides of the bed and by morning Loki was usually huddled near the wall while she dominated the bedding.

Despite what the romance books might say, bed-sharing was more like a trusting partnership. It was rare that she and Loki ever fell asleep or woke up in any kind of embrace. For Darcy, having Loki in her bed, sleeping beside her, was safety. He was her home. The warm, secure feeling was a fragrant tea that steeped in her hot blood, creating, over time, a Loki-shaped stain on her very core.

Their sleeping arrangements had not changed, and, thankfully, neither had their cuddling.

Nothing had changed physically. No matter how irritated Darcy was with his mysterious romances, she couldn’t bring herself to give up that part of their relationship.

They still spent their mornings huddled together and Darcy had long since learned how to avoid encounters with the part of Loki that typically made itself known in the morning. She was a big girl, she knew how anatomy worked. Sometimes she sat in his lap and he would tell her to move. She would apologize and scoot further down on his thighs. Other times they might be cuddling and he might shift a little so she wasn’t being poked.

But something was different.

Maybe it was how his voice had gotten deeper, or how he smelled…but something about him made her heart race and her gut clench.

It was probably just him being annoying because Darcy did not like Loki…like that. At all.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy made to clear her thoughts of Loki for the time being. There were more important matters on the table.

The predicted war with Vanaheim was becoming more apparent. For the first time in Vanir history there was conflict between the two sides of Vanaheim culture. The tribes were making demands of the capital cities and the cities were nearing their wits end. According to reports sent in from Queen Freya, the tribes wanted representation in Vanaheim nobility and recognition from the Asgardian throne.

To get this recognition, they were threatening a war.

Darcy had done the math; if even a third of the tribal communities gathered together to fight, their forces would outnumber the Vanir capital’s by a thousand. The long-standing treaty between Asgard and Vanaheim proclaimed that should there be a war that the realm could not face alone, then its sister-realm would intervene.

The issue with this resolution was that the tribes were a vast and fundamental constituent of the Vanir population. There was much debate over which side of the conflict Asgard would aid. A separate party was even forming to deny both sides aid and fight for peace, the tribes and the capital individually.  

Darcy was undecided. Her opinion didn’t carry any weight in external affairs. That was a downside to being an Advisor; she had near unlimited power on Asgard, but she wasn’t considered to be anymore than Loki’s glorified servant to the rest of Yggdrasil. The only acknowledgment she received from the other realms was that Asgard’s second prince was sweet on his little helper.

It annoyed her beyond even Loki’s interactions with ladies of the court.

She hated how everything she did was under Loki’s name. Her title, her work, her successes, her failures, they were all due to him. She wouldn’t even be in any position at all if it weren’t for him. It wasn’t his fault and the irritation had no effect on how she felt about her friend. Even so, the thought hovered around her like a gnat to a bowl of fruit.

It was senseless to dwell on her restrictions. She was a mortal girl assisting in politics on a realm far greater than any world she’d ever known before meeting Loki.

Then again, there wasn’t a whole lot that happened before she met Loki.

Through the memories of their growing friendship, Darcy could reminisce on the development of her intelligence.

Their childhood blunders on Muspelheim and the befriending of a Galaxy Dragon, one of the rarest creatures in the universe, reminded her that at the time she hadn’t known the weight of her actions. Every fantastic thing she and Loki had accomplished back then seemed distant. Only now was she beginning to realize the weight of what she’d done.  As a child, she had blown off Asgard’s alliance with Muspelheim as a neat little effect of their survival. The impossibility of their achievements was so insignificant to her at the time.

But the same was true for much of what she and Loki had discovered.

The Norn’s rebellion, her first taste of Asgardian political strife, she’d often remembered as simply an introduction into court life and friendship with Sif.

But as she continued to delve into her memories of that day, Darcy found herself both confused and awed by the events that had occurred. Everything from those two days was like a puzzle she’d assembled wrong with several missing pieces.

Most of this chaos was centered around the weird bearded lord she was to meet with today.

Darcy approached the doors of the conference room she’d reserved for this meeting. Two guards framed the entrance, bowed their heads to her as she neared them. She was always flattered by the gesture, sometimes it even made her uncomfortable. If kneeling was ultimate submission, then head-bowing was a display of great respect. No one was required or expected to bow to her. She wasn’t a royal or a lady really. She wasn’t even a noble. She was Loki’s advisor with no other glory to her name.

She smiled, recognizing the men almost immediately. “How’s the knee, Ergil? All healed up yet?” she asked, causing the other warrior, Fell, to snort. Last week, Ergil had been teaching a hand-to-hand combat lesson to Sif’s legion. He was a fair instructor, strong at the very least. The poor guy had decided to spar with Sif and she had him surrendering within minutes. Still, there was a point in the middle of their fight when he had her pinned to the ground. So, when Ergil stood up, clumsily making his way to across the courtyard, he unfortunately walked in front of the archers’ targets, effectively allowing for one of Sigyn’s arrows to be imbedded in his knee.

“Bad luck for him, Advisor Darcy,” Fell chortled at the withering look Ergil was sending him. “Lady Sigyn hardly practices any more. He went and romped right in front of her target! Unfortunate accident, that one!”

Darcy laughed with him, patting a sour Ergil comradely on the shoulder, sincerely doubting that the shot was too much of an accident. Sigyn probably hadn’t meant to hurt him so severely, but Darcy had reason to suspect that her ‘misfire’ was due to Ergil’s interest in Sif. “Well, be thankful it was a bone that can be fixed,” Darcy told him with a cheeky grin.

Fell laughed harder and Ergil joined in as well. “Advisor Darcy, he is a fool. He deserved to be shot. It was his hope to impress Sif with his skill and yet she beat him as if he was no more than a misbehaving child.”

“Aye, tis the truth. And had you any sense, Fell, you would be battling for her favor. A woman like that is a rare one indeed,” Ergil responded, getting a bit misty eyed and Darcy struggled to keep in her hysterias. She wasn’t about to tell the guy that Sif had no interest in men, but it was cute to see all his false hopes.

“Men,” Darcy addressed them, calming down enough to speak evenly. “I bid you well, but if you do not open this door soon, I’m afraid I’ll be late for my meeting.”

“Of course, Advisor Darcy,” Fell said cheerily, squaring his shoulders and returning to his position, “and might I add that you look absolutely lovely this evening?”

Ergil was back in position as well, rolling his eyes. “Fell, you dog, Advisor Darcy has better tastes than the likes of you.”

“I was only being honest to the striking lady,” Fell said, winking at her and she shook her head at him in humored exasperation as they opened the doors for her.

The warrior had a point, she looked damn fine that evening. Her hair was pulled back, small jeweled clips pinning it away from her face. She’d told Hilda, her friend and hand-maiden, she wanted to look dangerous but also super gorgeous. After this meeting she had a quick, private dinner with Loki and the High Lord of Ringsfjord.

She stepped inside, her head held high as she cleared the last traces of her conversation with the guards from her mind.  

Her favorite conference room was closer to the ground and it overlooked a part of Frigga’s massive garden. It was very open and a large gold arch led out onto a balcony. A fire was lit in the grand fireplace and the round table in the center of the room was unoccupied.

Instead her rival stood by the window, as golden and confusing as ever he was.

High Lord Bjarte stood like a childhood memory. So much had happened since their first meeting and even that brief look at him in Odin’s study. This was her first time seeing him through matured eyes and she saw that the puzzle she had solved as a child was far from completed.  His immediate presence reinforced in her mind the importance of this meeting.

He turned to her and it irked Darcy that his beard was still weird. “Advisor Darcy, it is an honor to be summoned by your ladyship.”

Under normal circumstances, Darcy would subtly tell whoever she was meeting with that she preferred to lose the niceties. But she refrained. She’d been playing this ridiculous game, bouncing her mind between Frigga’s expectations and Lord Bjarte’s looming threat. It was time she finally had some say in the rules.

“High Lord Bjarte, I’m glad you could accept my invitation on such short notice,” she greeted, keeping her distance. She didn’t ask him to sit or even call forth an attendant with tea. Her every cell was focused on him and the recollection of their game of Hnefatafl all those years ago, the game with which she’d won Loki’s honor and the secret of her identity. And along with that, she’d come out of the Lord’s library with leverage she often forgot about.

At the time Loki had told her that the magic she felt when Lord Bjarte attempted to cheat was also a bind to their gamble. Since she won the game, she had magical influence over the High Lord. At least, she would if she could use magic.

Standing before Bjarte now, Darcy could not be sure if that magic had any weight. It seemed ridiculous that any Lord would bargain his own control when playing a child. Especially when cheating against a child. Then again, he probably hadn’t expected her to win.

But she had. She had won.

“Of course,” he said with a small smile, clasping his hands behind his back, emphasizing the bold, gold color of his clothes. “I was expecting some message from you soon. With the war with Vanaheim upon us, I assumed it was only a matter of time.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “You know very well, Lord Bjarte, that I have no influence over external affairs.”

“Ah,” he said waving his finger at her as if scolding a child. His eyes were cold, leering and the lines of his face, obscured by his beard, were mocking. “I disagree, Advisor Darcy. I would say that you have monumental influence over external affairs. It is simply that your words carry no weight.”

Her jaw clenched as the bitter reminder of her reliance on her restricted position. Her words only mattered through other’s mouths. She didn’t bother to smile. This game had to have one honest player. “Your refute is founded,” she told him, gesturing to the table. “Sit.”

“Well, only because you asked so nicely,” Lord Bjarte mocked; taking a seat nonetheless, the light of the day caught his beard in the light of the setting sun as he scrutinized her. “You are older now, growing up as they say.”

“I am an adolescent. Aging is a necessary side effect of growth,” she sassed politely, taking her seat on the other side of the table. They were close enough that she could see the details of his glare without her glasses, but far enough away that she couldn’t stretch her arm out across the table to poke him.

High Lord Bjarte’s bushy eyebrows rose. “No. You are becoming formidable and a worthy opponent.”

Darcy didn’t want to wait around while he evaluated her, but she knew that his game with Vanaheim extended beyond the realm. He’d wanted this war for years now and Darcy could only see part of the grand scheme. She saw no motive, no gain of power, no reason for fighting Vanaheim.

Her cluelessness was proof she was searching in all the wrong places. If the answer did not lie in his actions, it was waiting in the space between them, dangling right above her head.

He kept talking like he had all of the knowledge she could ever hope to attain. “But you are still a child, a girl. You keep secrets that you do not even bother to understand. You scorn with a tongue that has never been burned. You scowl when you have never been angry and you write without the urgency of a ruler. You have more power than any common girl could ever hope for and you crave more.”

Lord Bjarte paused, leaning forwards a bit as Darcy glared at him, unphased. She waited, letting him insult her. This meeting was made for her to listen and listen she would. She needed materials to create her success.

“And yet they all love you,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “Perhaps they find your ignorance charming. Or perhaps they just like that you have taken their prince’s heart in your hot little hands.

“Tell me, Advisor Darcy,” Lord Bjarte said, his eyes boring into hers with curious intensity. “Is it cold?”

She returned with an unrepressed glower, “Is what cold?”

“His heart?” he asked quietly and suddenly the room seemed too still. “Is he a monster, Advisor Darcy?”

If Darcy was puzzled before, she was oblivious now. She answered him even so. “No more than you or I.”

One of his knobby knuckled hands went to his beard, stroking it thoughtfully. “I repeat myself by saying you have grown, but very little.”

“And you haven’t grown at all,” Darcy countered bitingly. “You lost, remember?”

Bjarte didn’t miss a beat. “Indeed. How could I forget? I was beaten by a child at my own game. We cheated our way to the end and in return, you gained something from me that none other ever has.”

Darcy bit back surprise. The truth still held then, that she had some power over him? Whatever could it entail?

The bearded man stood, sending a honey-sweet gust of air in Darcy’s direction. She struggled not to choke over the nauseating scent. He walked to her side, eyes exuding contempt; it was a challenge she accepted with only a glance. “I will be direct with you just this once, ‘Advisor’ Darcy.”

His palms slammed down on the table before her and she flinched in shock.

“Had you been a Vanir sorceress or an elf or a dwarf with a pretty face, you would know the answers to the questions burning in that little mind of yours. Had you even the slightest magical potential as an Aesir, the Allmother would have you be the vigilant hero who keeps her secrets. If you knew anything about magic, that little gamble would have meant something.” He leaned in closer, the sickly sweet spit of bees making her head spin. “But you do not. You are magically impotent.”

Darcy sat up straighter in her chair and Lord Bjarte retreated, buzzing around the room as an idle threat. “So I can’t do magic. What’s your point?”

He chuckled, twisting one of his beard’s many braids between his forefinger and thumb. “I want a fair fight, Advisor Darcy.”

“Horse shit,” she spat. In any political circumstance, she would have washed her mouth out with soap and never shown her face in public ever again. But, despite her cool façade, it wasn’t all that great to have someone call you stupid consistently.  “Fair game is your enemy.”

“Fair game gives me wide berth to ply my craft,” he countered offhandedly. “Though perhaps you are right. You brought me here to answer your questions; I will do so in part.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. Could he be any more of a dick? Bjarte ignored this and continued on. “Is it not humorous to think that the two of you aid each other’s disability? If one of you were to fall, the other could not stand.”

“You’re very dramatic. You know that, right?” Even as she dropped her pleasant demeanor in favor of representing her own feelings on the matter, she listened to what he was saying, searching for the truth.

“Indeed,” he said agreeably, turning towards her, seeping malcontent. “But I am also honest in saying that even the bare thought, the idea, of your precious prince with a golden arrow through his heart—“

Darcy gasped before she could stop herself, her hand going to her own heart that had stuttered at the memory of Loki’s almost-assassination. Even her time away couldn’t cure her worry over that. It didn’t bear down on her at all times like it had before, but it made her everything ache.

“—pains you.” Lord Bjarte continued as she had proved his honesty.

“You sent the killer,” Darcy stated, standing up to better equate their height, which she still couldn’t do after all these years.

High Lord Bjarte smiled like a child whose parents told him that all vegetables were to be replaced with desserts for the next year. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I admit nothing, Advisor Darcy.”

She took a step towards him, radiating rage. She could have him arrested on the spot…she could cut that beard right off his face. “You don’t need to.”

Again, he waved his finger at her, degrading ever shred of power she ever pretended to own. “As I said, Advisor Darcy, fair game, law and order, rules… they are my vice. You are not one of the bloodthirsty warriors that walk these halls. You won’t kill me in your anger.”

“I won’t?” Darcy asked innocently, making sure to sound extra disappointed. Of course, she didn’t have any weapons on her, so unless she wanted to try for the ‘bare hands’ route, it wouldn’t be the best. “Damn.”

Lord Bjarte acted as though she had not spoken, stepping around her to reach the door. “You will play fair.”

Darcy gaped at him, disbelieving. “Exsqueeze me? I cheated for him once before, what makes you think I won’t do it again?”

“Because,” Lord Bjarte said, pulling open one of the grand, golden doors to the outside hall. “You now keep their secrets. And one does not wish to spill wine while wearing white.”

On that lovely note, the bane of her very existence exited the room and Darcy had half a mind to make like Ms. Scarlet in the Hall with the Candlestick and beat his ass.

But she didn’t.

She didn’t know what he was up to yet. There would be consequences to his immediate death. Also, Darcy didn’t really like the idea of killing anyone. So there was that.

Sighing, scrubbed a hand over her face. She would have to think on all this later, for now she had dinner with Loki and Sir Whatshisface from Ringsfjord.

                                                               ***

The Next Morning…

Loki sat at a table in one of his mother’s rooms, staring down at a carefully constructed report of his recent social life that had been published to the Asgardian people.

And it was unflattering to say the least.

“Loki,” the Allmother said firmly, sitting across from him with a look of disappointment that had the power to make his soul shrivel, “you know I hate to sound like your father but you, my son, are a Prince of Asgard and as a Prince of Asgard, you cannot go about displaying such affections with ladies of the court as you have this past season.”

Loki grimaced as he thought back to his more risqué escapades and the numerous rumors he’d spread about himself.

The night of Darcy’s return from Culver, she and Loki curled up together in his bed and talked. He made the decision not to tell her about his adventures at the brothel. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to know, he did. But he did not want his summer experiences to interfere with their relationship. He feared that if Darcy knew of everything he’d done with prostitutes, she would believe he expected things of her while they shared a bed.

Sleeping with Darcy was one of the most chaste and beautiful parts of his life. And while Darcy was gorgeous and, he must admit, quite alluring, she was his friend. He did not think that any amount of sex either of them had would change the nature of their relationship.

Even so, he felt Darcy should know about his summer, for no other reason than she was his friend and it was a large part of his life. He resolved he would tell her…eventually. Perhaps not that day, or the next. But he would at some point in time.

Instead he chose to relay stories of his and Thor’s training experience. She kicked him in the shin when he recalled the many beatings he received from Mjolnir.

Then she told him about Culver, the book she had written, and the Idiot Girl that had become the bane of his existence.

Loki didn’t have feelings for Darcy. That was a ridiculous notion. He loved her, of course, but only as his friend. If he were to be asked again whether or not he was in love with Darcy Lewis, he would answer ‘no’ without a second thought. It must have simply been the heat of the summer that drove him to believe otherwise.

He could not like Darcy like that. He never had hopes that they could be together or that they might dance together for once. He hadn’t imagined kissing her sweet pouty lips or hearing her say that she was in love with him and that she was his and he was hers. Those thoughts never even crossed his mind. Not once.

She would never want to be with him anyways; she liked women.

It was immediately after she told him about her ‘fling’ with Idiot Girl that Loki made up his mind; if Darcy could be in relationships and kiss women, so could he.

And kiss women he did. He made sure that Darcy was there to see that he too was capable of being with women that were not her and that he didn’t have feelings for her in the slightest. Loki went out of his way to make it crystal clear that he was not in love with her by flirting with ladies of the court and accepting their advances, letting them cling to him as if they were courting.

Loki had spent a great deal of time with prostitutes, but ladies of the Asgardian court were another breed of whore entirely. They weren’t like his friends at the brothel; they didn’t have sex for fun or love or pleasure or friendship or even money. They weren’t trained to give pleasure.

They were trained to gain the hand of those wealthier than themselves.

Their forwardness towards him was only for power and titles. As the only eligible prince, Loki had no shortage of women lining up to be his potential bedmate. The higher class rejected ideas of intercourse before marriage; therefore everything was to be discreet. Gossip spread around in hushed whispers about who had spent the night where, but such events never went public. It was common, unspoken knowledge that the virginal ladies of the court fucked the lord with the heaviest coin purse.

‘Act innocent, play dirty,’ Sigyn had told him as a summary of her expectations as a lady nearing adulthood. He knew she was with Sif, a penniless military woman, so her situation was especially difficult since she was engaged to the most powerful bachelor in all of Asgard. With all of her intolerant will, Loki could not see Sigyn acting like anyone but herself and he definitely could not see her ‘playing dirty’ with Thor. He was proud of how her confidence had grown in the past few years; she owed it to herself to be exactly who she was and nothing but.

As for the rumors, he’d started most of them himself. He was a liesmith, surely he could forge a few tall tales about the women he’d been with. There were even a few stories he managed to spread about relationships with men. He was not limited to simply one sex as most sad individuals were; his options were expansive since nearly everyone was in the realm of his attraction. Let Darcy make what she would of that.

Loki had hardly participated in as many escapades as he’d led on. He only ever demonstrated enough libidinous behavior to guarantee that Darcy knew he felt nothing for her. It was also quite useful. Since he proved all of his lust was reserved for those women that were not her, she would have no qualms about letting him stay in her bed.

Despite all of his necessary flirting and kissing, he had never taken any of the ladies to bed.

Alright, he had.

But only once and it was so terrible that he wondered if sex had ever been good or if it had all been an illusion. Well, terrible for him at least, his partner perhaps not. He did not want the taste of those women on his tongue, the smell of their hair and sweat on his sheets. Their company was undesirable to him and their motives were equally unappealing. Only one lady existed that he’d ever let into his bed again and only one he intended to keep there. In spite of his erotic jaunts, Darcy Lewis would always be his truest of bedmates.

And it would all be incredibly platonic because he absolutely did not have any feelings for her whatsoever.

And the fact that she didn’t even look at him while he was obnoxiously, deliberately, bare-facedly tonguing ladies in her general vicinity did not disappoint him.  His mother was correct in saying that he was a Prince of Asgard and Princes of Asgard do not need to kiss multiple women just to get the attention of one.

Frigga raised an elegant brow when he refused to meet her eyes. He knew perfectly well that it was disgraceful to both his titles’ and the women he took liberties with. But he hardly felt the consequence. Let Asgard think what it wanted of him. What mattered to him was that the report in front of him had been neatly pieced together by his very own advisor.

It proved that Darcy did realize he was kissing women. She knew enough that she had written an entire twelve page essay of the public opinion of him and her difficulty keeping him in good character through the eyes of the people. It was almost satisfying to read. There was so much detail that she must have noticed his displays of affection.

Not that he cared that she saw or had any feelings about it. She wouldn’t anyways. Because she liked women and Loki was a man. It would never work between them.

“Did Darcy mention anything when she gave this to you?” Loki asked, flipping through an article about his decline in upstanding participation in politics due to distractions of flesh. Several parts were underlined and elaborated on in purple ink. He found it odd that Darcy had brought all this to his mother. Usually she would just explain it to him personally and advise him to rectify his behavior because she couldn’t do it all for him.

But Darcy never even acknowledged his public displays of affection, let alone taking the time to bring them to his attention.

As critical as the articles and pamphlets were, they paled in comparison to Thor’s endeavors. At least Loki had never been, as the Midgardians say, caught with his pants down.

Technically, the only one who had ever seen him doing anything was Darcy. The rest were no more than rumor based conspiracies.

Frigga sighed exasperatedly, closing the report and pulling it away from his greedy fingers. “Loki, all I ask is that you at least attempt to maintain the affectation that you are the couth, respectful prince I raised.”

He smirked up at her, quickly dropping the look after meeting her intense glare of hostility and, worst of all, disappointment. “Mother, I—“

“If you do not do as I ask,” she continued as he tried not to wither under her gaze, “I will take it upon myself to make sure that it is done.  Do we have an accord?”

Loki bowed his head. He would agree to anything if it meant that she would cease being disappointed in him. “Yes, Mother.”

“Yes indeed,” she chided, cupping his cheek in her hand, her expression softening. He leaned into her touch, grateful for the comfort. It was miserable enough that he had to kiss ladies he didn’t like just to prove to Darcy that he had no interest in her outside of their friendship without receiving bad publicity for his efforts.

“Loki.”

“Yes, Mother?” he responded somberly while Queen Frigga quirked a humored grin and stepped away.

“When Darcy handed me the report, she asked me to tell you to ‘stop being an idiot’ and also a few uncomplimentary remarks I’d rather not say.”

Loki stood up turning his back to his mother and clasping his hands behind his back, unamused. “That was implied.”

“Quite,” she replied, humored. “You are making her job challenging, Loki. Perhaps you ought to re-evaluate your decisions.” His mother coughed lightly, and Loki turned around to make sure that she did not look ill. “Often times we assume things too quickly and we make decisions we later regret.”

On that note she strode away, leaving Loki to contemplate her words alone. He did not recall ever assuming anything. He did not make assumptions unless they were for scientific purposes.

He groaned loudly, repressing the urge to stomp his foot in irritation and pout like a child. His morning had been decent until he received summons from his mother.

Last night, after returning from a long day of meetings and lessons, Darcy had been busy on Midgard with a soccer game and Loki with a meeting that he promised her that he would go to. Afterwards he went to the library, intending to stay for only an hour or two until he could return to Midgard and sleep in Darcy’s bed.

But he’d gotten caught up in his projects and before he knew it, the sun was beginning to rise.

On the brighter side of things, he’d finally discovered how to safely take him and Darcy out of Yggdrasil along with the potential location of an infinity stone. This meant not only did they have a way out, they also had a desired location.

This is the news he had been excitedly hurrying to go tell her, Jörmungandr trailing close behind him, when the messenger, Kyrn, delivered his mother’s summons.

Reminded of his revelation, Loki instantly perked up and smiled down at his serpent. “Come Jörmungandr, today we shall go exploring, yes?”

The snake made a sound reminiscent of a bark and Loki grinned widely, letting him wrap around his torso.

Magically, Loki transported them to the passage to Midgard, thinking of the necessary precautions.

Getting out of the Nine Realms Loki believed would be simple enough. They would simply have to gain enough speed to conquer the empty spacial barriers that separated the realms and the Galaxy Beyond. If enough speed was not acquired, or there was no propelling for applied, then traveling parties would be lost in space forever drifting in a sea of nothingness.

Loki could conquer the speed issue without error. He’d tested the necessary velocity required in his longship. That was the easy part.

He quickly discovered why no one else left Yggdrasil. Surviving through space would be difficult. Drastic changes in temperature, lack of breathable air, the unknown in general…there were a great many things to take into consideration. But Loki had perfected a stabilizing spell that would apply to Darcy, Fenrir, Jörmungandr and himself. It had taken effort because he did not know exactly what kind of conditions they would be set in, he could only guess.

The location of the infinity stone was something he’d been working since the spring.

After spending a week attempting to decipher the jumble of languages on Midgard, Loki gave in and flipped the map to analyze the rest of the galaxy.

In less than a day, he had a place he believed a stone could be.

The far corner of the map was isolated from the rest of the rest of the represented galaxy by empty space, much like the void that separated the Nine Realms. Only, this space was different. It seemed to Loki, based on the separation of languages, that this void had been created rather than naturally formed.

The isolated bit of land off in the corner was constructed of Celestian gibberish, phrases and terms Loki could read but could hardly understand. In the center was a blur.

It took him longer than it should have to determine that it was an infinity stone. Even when he became sure of its location, Darcy had been in the midst of mental collapse and he dare not add anything more to her life while she was so stressed.

Besides, before last night, he had no way of exiting Yggdrasil, let alone getting to the infinity stone.

Overcome by enthusiasm, Loki used the portal, sliding out from underneath Darcy’s bed expecting to see her up and ready to get on with her day. Instead she was fast asleep in bed, the covers pulled up over her head and her plaid-pajama clad leg was stretched out across his side of the bed.

Fenrir was sprawled on his back near her feet, thrashing about every few seconds.

Quietly, Loki got into bed, making sure to switch into his regular clothes first, and tugged back the sheet so the side of her face, pink and covered in messy locks of hair, was revealed to him. Her lips were parted as she breathed shallow, steady breaths. “Darcy…” he cooed gently, pushing her hair out of her face. He would braid it before they went on their adventure. “Darcy,” he tried again, scooting closer to kiss her temple companionably. He didn’t have feelings for Darcy, so it didn’t matter if he kissed her face or slept in her bed or thought she was beautiful. He’d always done those things. As much as Loki wasn’t in love with Darcy, he couldn’t stop his need to be affectionate with her.

She groaned, burying her face in her pillow and Loki grinned in triumph, reaching out and pulling her back against his chest. Darcy always slept in late after a soccer game and Loki almost hated to wake her up. Almost. He really liked the annoyed look she wore when she was grumpy and moving around.

He squeezed her middle tightly until she grumbled some kind of complaint about being a weak-boned mortal.

“Darcy, I come bearing good news,” he coaxed as she took one of his hands and brought it up to cover her face.

“Later,” she mumbled, her lips brushing his palm. “I’m sore. And sleeping.”

He smirked, propping himself up a bit so he could blow a trail of cool air over her ear and was rewarded with a swift jab of her elbow to his stomach. “God dammit, Loki,” Darcy swore, swiftly sitting up and rubbing her ear with the palm of her hand.

“Oh, good, you are up,” he said cheerily, watching as she stretched out her limbs.

She sighed, falling back against the pillows. “No. I’m not. I feel like someone beat me with a baseball bat.”

“I take it your game went well?” he asked, subtly using his magic to examine her physical state. Nothing was broken, but she was bruised in several places and her left ankle was sprained. He healed it all and she relaxed considerably.

“We played North and they have a strategy that includes taking down the little guys by trying to bounce the ball off of their bodies. Totally illegal and the referee was so biased I nearly shoved that whistle down his throat. As one of the little guys on offense, I was doomed. But we won and I deserve a little R & R before tonight,” Darcy said, closing her eyes again as he pulled her legs into his lap and rubbed her sore muscles, letting his magic cure her aches slowly.

“I see,” Loki replied, keeping his eyes on her face while she focused on his actions.

She hummed contentedly, jumping a bit when he squeezed the ticklish place above her knee. “So what is this good news?”

Loki shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, nothing. You intend to stay in bed all day so it does not matter, does it?”

Darcy sat up on her elbows, a pout on her lips and a crease in her brow. “Loki, just tell me,” she pleaded, nudging his thigh with her toe, giving him the opportunity to admire the dark green polish painted on its nail. Originally she wanted purple, but agreed to paint them green under the condition that Loki paint his own a deep shade of violet.

Sighing dramatically, he patted the arch of her foot. “No. I understand. Staying in bed all day and being lazy is important. I should leave.” He moved to the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the floor and acting like he was going to stand up but he stopped when Darcy wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Me staying in bed all day and being lazy entails that you also stay in bed all day and be lazy with me,” Darcy told him as if it were a matter of fact. “Now quit bullshitting and speak.”

He placed a fist over his heart. “I would never…”

“Loki!” she insisted, pushing him back down on the bed and hovering over him, her hair creating a curtain around their faces. His increase in his heart rate reminded him how much he truly did not have any feelings for Darcy by any means.

He offered her his best toothy grin, “How much time do you think it will take us to go find an infinity stone in the Galaxy Beyond?”

Darcy gasped, looking down at him in disbelief. “What?”

He sat up excitedly, grasping her shoulders. “We can safely leave and I’ve found another stone.”

She was out of bed in an instant, going to her bookshelf and opening the secret compartment where she kept her armor and swords. He averted his eyes, staring at her closet when she began changing into her gear. “Loki, why didn’t you just say so!? Jesus, we’ve got to get going. I’ve got to be back by eight tonight. That only gives us…” she checked her clock, “nine hours! Shit! I slept in till eleven! Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.”

Once she was clothed and her swords were belted on, Loki woke up Jörmungandr and Fenrir and together, the four of them departed for Asgard.

                                                               ***

Darcy was actively ignoring how freaking attractive Loki was when explaining the fundamentals of their inter-galactic travel like the nerd that he was.

It gets worse.

How?

He does stupid shit like wake her up in the morning by snuggling her, and holding her, and being adorable in general. Also being a little shit by massaging her sore muscles. And pushing her hair back behind her ear to kiss her temple? What kind of cruel asshole does that to wake a girl up?

Oh right. The same cruel asshole that she has trouble falling asleep if he isn’t in bed with her.

And that brought them to the present moment, speeding along the horizon while Darcy kept her eyes shut so she didn’t have to see how high up they were.

Loki had just finished explaining the new spell he’d developed that allowed for her to exist in space without dying. She would have no trouble understanding the science of it once she went back and read his notes, but standing there with his hands on her face while he did magic on her person, the listening thing was kind of impossible. It took all of her will not to stare at his mouth and look him in the eyes.

Loki was an attractive prince and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that to herself. Besides, she wasn’t attracted to Loki; she just knew that he was attractive.

“Darcy!” Loki called over the wind as they began speeding up. “Take my hand, Darling.”

Cracking her eyes open, she made her way to his side and tried not to make a big deal of the fact that he’d just called her ‘darling’. She thought back to the numerous women he kissed and instantly replaced that light, fluttery feeling in her belly with dour bitterness. She took his hand, scowling against the strength of the wind. Frank and Fenrir were wrapped tightly around one another as Loki angled the longship upwards.

“We are going to be penetrating the atmosphere soon! It is quite thin; you won’t feel much because we’re going so fast! But once we break the light barrier, I have engineered a protective magical armor to surround the ship!” The longship jostled and Darcy pressed herself closer to his side, wishing she’d actually been paying attention to the science he’d explained earlier instead of watching his lips move. But, hey, priorities.                                                                                                 

He let go of her hand to wrap a protective arm around her waist. “Once we are moving and the armor enacts, our speed will increase exponentially over the course of thirty seven milliseconds!”

Darcy peeked up at him through her lashed. “Loki, you’re such a dork! Who the hell counts milliseconds!?”

“They are a practical unit for measuring time!” Loki countered keeping his gaze on the stars that seemed just as far away as ever they were.

“Still a dork,” she muttered under her breath, positive he couldn’t her.

“Darcy?!” Loki shouted as they picked up speed, “What are you doing at eight o’clock this evening?!”

She tightened her arms around him, unsure of what he’d asked. “What?”

“You said earlier that you must be on Midgard by eight. What is it you are doing?” he asked, clearing his throat loudly.

Darcy swallowed hard, her face getting way hotter than it should be.

Oh. That.

“Uh, nothing! I’m just thinking about going to bed early! You know me!”

“Darcy.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Darcy.”

“You wouldn’t really be interested.”

Loki made a frustrated sound as they accelerated. The Asgardian atmosphere was so much higher than the Midgardian one. Then again, Asgard was a much bigger place.  “I assure you, Darcy, I am very interested.”

Darcy shook her head, keeping him on edge. She tried not to smile. Loki had made her suffer through three months of watching him swap spit with literally everyone, so she was exacting her revenge. “You wouldn’t even care!”

“Darcy, come now!” he pleaded, his hand tightening on her hip.

Darcy bit her lip, making him wait. Not that she was bothered by the women kissing Loki, she wasn’t. But she was a teensy weensy bit jealous that Loki was getting it and she wasn’t. Also that the fact he was getting it was being rubbed in her face every damn day. “I will attend all of my meetings next season and I will stop letting Thor use Mjolnir during our training,” he bribed knowingly.

She gave into temptation, crossing her arms and lifting her chin. “I have a date.”

“What?” he gasped in shock, just as they penetrated the atmosphere, broke the light barrier, and were encapsulated in a golden magical field. And for thirty-seven milliseconds, they accelerated into the nothingness of the void separating Yggdrasil and the Galaxy.

                                                               ***

They finally slowed down after five whole seconds of high-speed travel and Loki smiled pleasantly at their success, bouncing on the balls of his feet to find that his gravitational enforcement spell was working out well. And since Darcy, Fenrir, Jörmungandr and himself were all still alive, his protection spells must have worked as well.

Darcy gasped at their new surroundings, her arms loosening from around his body so she could better see the galaxy that was not her own. He watched her amazement, her wonder, as she pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose to better see the stars. Her lips were parted in amazement and Loki found the new sky anticlimactic compared to her.

“Oh my god, Loki,” she laughed, nearly throwing herself into his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and spinning them around. “You’re amazing.”

“I know,” he sighed, “It is a burden I must bear.”

“And you ruined it,” she sighed, threading her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

Loki was prepared to sink into her embrace and forget about their expedition entirely in favor of drifting around in space with Darcy in his arms. Then he remembered that repulsive little detail she’d let slip before they were launched into the Galaxy. He cleared his throat, backing away a bit. “So, you have a date?”

Darcy opened her mouth to respond, but her words were cut short by a bark-like-hiss and a hiss-like-bark. Loki swiftly pushed the four of them out of the ship before a giant, speeding spacecraft crashed right through his longship as if it were nothing.

The crash slowed the vehicle down and Loki thought fast. Their way back to Yggdrasil was now a lost cause. Rebuilding his longship from its current obliterated state would not do. And he couldn’t do so hovering in space. Their best chance of returning or at least finding the infinity stone they’d come for resided in the damned ship that almost killed them.

“Hold on,” he directed Darcy, clutching her and his pets close before magically transporting them aboard.

In a flash of green light they materialized in what looked like the passenger area of the ship and it took Loki a moment to realize that the ship was not only a vehicle, but also a living space. It was a mess, but it had the potential to be very nice. There was a table and something that looked similar to a Midgardian refrigerator and a staircase that appeared to move to a lower level.

Music, sounding oddly Midgardian, played lowly in the background and Loki vaguely recognized the lyrics. Darcy had a stereo in her room and she played CDs often. Lately she’d been asking her parents for an ‘iPod’.

‘…Press your space face close to mine, love

Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!’

Loki kept his arms wrapped around Darcy’s waist, holding her body to his as he searched let his magic search for any immediate signs of danger.

There was one being in the cockpit, but other than that, there were no immediate signs of danger.

“I hate to break up this lovely high school dance thing happening here, but who the hell are you, and speak fast before I—“

Loki and Darcy moved fast, whipping out their weapons and taking deadly aim at the young man threatening them with some odd sort of gun. Quick as they were with their response, Jörmungandr and Fenrir were quicker, pouncing on their opponent and tackling him to the ground, knocking the weapons from his hands.

Loki waved an errant hand to cast cuffs on the man, binding his wrists in front of him.

“Aww,” Darcy cooed. “Frank, Fenrir, you guys are so sweet,” she congratulated them, bending over to rub their heads and distract them from eating the unsuspecting pilot. The two rarely had any true malice unless Loki and Darcy were in danger. This being the case, it was always a good idea to reassure them of the state of their safety lest they fear the situation be worse than it was. It warmed Loki’s heart at how protective the two little friends were.

He nodded to them in thanks and they both wagged their tails happily, trotting/slithering away from the fallen man who was swearing loudly.

“Hey dude, not cool!” he complained, struggling against his confines. Loki noted that he was carrying several weapons and he took the liberty of magically removing them, smiling smugly when they all clattered across the table in the nearby vicinity. Other than the weapons, he wore a burgundy colored coat and simple pants. He got to his feet easily enough and Loki noted that the man was older than him, taller, and more muscular. But he was not, however, bigger than Thor.

Darcy crossed her arms, saucily throwing her hip to the side. “Um, excuse me? You’re the ass that just rammed through our ship while we were still in it!”

“Well, I’m sorry if you parked your fucking ship in the middle of the space-way, but that’s not my problem!” he countered as Loki had picked up one of the man’s guns and was taking it apart. It seemed no more than a Midgardian ‘taser’ only the volts were transferred as projectiles and were a great deal stronger.

The cuffed man kept talked running his mouth. “And tell your boyfriend to put down my gun. I don’t want to get shocked while I beat his ass and kick you two out of my ship.”

Loki smirked at him being referenced as Darcy’s boyfriend. Obviously, this odd space fellow believed that they looked a good couple. Not that Loki cared. He reminded himself how much he didn’t care as his reassembled the weapon and set it aside.

“He’s not my boyfriend. But good luck with the whole beating his ass thing,” Darcy said, walking to the cockpit and sitting down in one of the chairs. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’re borrowing your ship.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so!” the man taunted, turning to Loki and directing a well aimed kick at his side and Loki deflected the offense, dropping the newly reconfigured weapon he’d been toying with. His defense was sudden and perhaps too strong, for upon his movements he heard the telltale snap of a bone and the man’s yelp of pain as he fell back against the bench near the cassette player and speakers.

“Ow! Shit! Bro, you just broke my fucking leg!”

Darcy made an irritated sound as the ship lurched forwards a bit. “Loki, did you seriously just break his leg?”

“It was an accident,” Loki said innocently, feeling some sympathy for the strange man, “Darcy, I think he is a mortal. Or at least part mortal. I did not expect him to break so easily.” He frowned at the man’s leg, using his magic to heal it.

“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck was that?” the man asked as the ship lurched again. “And, you, tiny person trying to steal my ship? You see that pedal on the floor, how about holding that down and then propelling the fucking vehicle.”

Darcy turned in her chair, glaring angrily as she purposefully made the ship jerk back and forth a few more times.

Loki felt an odd sense of pride wash through him at this as he turned back to the irritating space-man. “I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and that was me healing your leg. Sit down, or next time it will be your skull in need of repair.”

The man didn’t sit down, “Okay, ‘Prince’ Loki. I haven’t heard of you, but maybe you’ve heard of me?”

Loki took out his dagger, twirling it around his fingers dexterously as Darcy maneuvered the ship. “Doubtful.”

“They call me Star-Lord.”

Darcy snorted, “Dude, that’s so lame. You have a code name?”

‘Star-Lord’ looked offended. “It’s an outlaw name! And it is not lame! I don’t see you being called anything cool, ‘Darcy’.”

Loki rolled his eyes, stowing his dagger, moving to the table to find some way to identify the man. He came across a card. “His name is Peter Quill.”

Darcy snapped her fingers like she was trying to recall something. “I’ve heard that name before. I’ve read it somewhere. Loki, where have I read that name before?”

Loki agreed that his name was familiar. “I do not—“

“SHIELD files!” she exclaimed, standing up from her place at the head of the ship to examine the man, Peter Quill. “You disappeared off the face of the Earth in Colorado right after your mom died.”

Surprise lit Quill’s face. “Wait, Terra…I mean, Earth, remembers me?”

Darcy snorted, poking his face. “Hardly, you were in a SHIELD file locked away in the miscellaneous section of a hard drive.”

“Darcy, do not touch it. Apparently the mortal is a criminal,” Loki said, exploring the ship’s technology. More advanced than Midgardian work, less than Asgard’s simplest machines.

Peter Quill huffed. “Is he always that mean?”

Darcy ignored him. “Watch it, Lokes. I’m a mortal, remember.”

Loki, cursed himself, tearing his attentions away from the technology to cup Darcy’s cheek in his palm. “I know you are. I love your mortality almost as much as I love you,” he assured, with a sickening amount of sentiment. He was sincere, but with enough cloying ‘mush’, as Darcy would call it, that it hardly carried the same weight.

Peter Quill made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. “Dude, gross. Have at least some mystery, dear god. Not in my ship, please.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, shoving him away. “You’re such a little shit, Loki. Get the map and let’s find this thing. We’ve only got, like, eight hours left.”

“What are we finding?” Peter Quill asked, finally sitting down and putting his feet up. “I think I deserve to know since this is my ship and all.”

Loki took the map from his pocket and laying it out beside the ship’s console so Darcy could read it. “Right, because you have a date.”

“Yeah, I do,” Darcy said, rifling through Peter Quill’s messy collection of papers till she found something that looked like a map and laid it down near their own. “What about it?”

Loki shrugged, comparing the two charts. “Nothing. It just seems odd that you didn’t mention it sooner.”

Darcy instantly stood up straighter, turning to him with measured self-control. Her blue eyes flashed with anger yet to be released. “You want to repeat that, Your Highness?”

He made a face. She knew he hated it when she called him that. He tried to decipher why she was so angry. What had he said? He hadn’t said anything, had he? “What? I simply thought that you might tell me if you had interest in someone.”

“Oh my fucking god!” she cried out, slamming her hand down on the map in disbelief. “I cannot even believe that you just said that.”

Confused, Loki pointed to the location on Peter Quill’s map that matched their own. The destination didn’t seem to exist. Their map depicted a planet of sorts and Loki scowled at it. “Head for this general area. Can you navigate?”

“Obviously,” Darcy said, sitting down furiously, examining the many different gauges on the console.

He couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or not. “Darcy, what did I say?”

The ship lurched forwards at shocking speeds as she glared up at him. “It’s not what you said, ‘Darling’, it’s what you didn’t say!”

Loki just shook his head at her and she nearly growled.

There were a few crashes in the kitchen area and Loki saw Jörmungandr and Fenrir raiding the fridge out of the corner of his eye. “What didn’t I say?”

She made a sharp turn, dodging a bit of drifting stone. “Oh, I don’t know, how about why you’re suddenly acting like Casanova, Johnny Bravo, and Genghis Khan all in one!”

Peter Quill let out a low whistle. “Nice, man!”

Loki was victorious. Darcy had noticed that he was attracting attention from women and she was angry about it. Excellent. Not that he wanted Darcy to be angry with him, but her rage was indication that she felt some of the possessiveness towards him that he, potentially, felt for her. “So?” he asked, crossing his arms casually while she fumed, “Why would you even care?”

Darcy gripped the steering device so tightly Loki feared she might break it. He was about to add that he had no children, therefore he was not Genghis Khan, but he was cut off by the sound of slow song lyrics.

‘I must have been through about a million girls

I'd love 'em then I'd leave 'em alone’

Loki turned to glare at Peter Quill who was nodding at him with helpful intent, giving him the Midgardian ‘okay’ hand signal.

‘But then I fooled around and fell in love

I fooled around and fell in love, yes I did’

Darcy threw her hands in the air. “Why do I care?” she laughed humorlessly, “How about because I have to keep up the pretense that you even care what Asgard thinks about you? Or maybe that I came back from Culver and suddenly you, Mr. Dedicates-His-Life-to-Magic, seem to just charm every girl right out of her fucking pants? And then when we’re alone, you act like everything’s normal and you’re not sucking face with literally everyone on Asgard!”

Loki found the autopilot switch and turned it on before Darcy killed them. “Darcy, what do you—“

“Don’t finish that question,” she snapped, taking Peter Quill’s map and beginning to chart coordinates based on star location. “We still sleep together every freaking night, unless you forget that sleep exists, and you snuggle harder than a kitten!”

“We’ve always slept together,” Loki pointed out, more than a little hurt that she was opposed to the snuggling.

“You’re missing the point!”

‘When you hold me

In your arms so tight

You let me know

Everything's alright

I’m hooked on a feeling!’

Loki grit his teeth, resentfully looking to Peter Quill who was signaling him a subtle thumbs up.

“No, you are missing the point!” Loki retorted, neglecting to acknowledge their captive. Perhaps he’d misinterpreted Darcy’s fury. Did she not like snuggling? He loved it. Did she want him to stop? How awful would that be? “Everything is normal! We have shared a bed for how many years now? And what, pray tell, is wrong with the snuggles?”

Darcy seethed, standing up to better glower at him. “Nothing. There is nothing wrong with the snuggles,” she said through her teeth.

‘…All the good love

when we’re all alone

keep it up girl

yeah you turn me on’

Loki’s gaze fixated briefly on Peter Quill, his face getting uncomfortably warm. This was not helping. Darcy did not turn him on; although, she did look rather alluring when she was infuriated with him.

“So you are upset because I did not tell you about the women?” he clarified, conjuring a pen and fixing a small error she’d made in her calculations.

“To some extent, yeah!” Darcy said, playing around with the devices on the console and setting their newly determined coordinates.

Loki held up his hands, “You know who all of them are! You wrote a report on it and gave it to my mother!”

Peter Quill sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Okay, ew? Like, your mom knows about your sex life? Dude, not cool.”

“Shut the fuck up, Quill,” Darcy commanded. “Of course I know who they are! I want to know why you just suddenly decided to fuck Lady Volla so hard that she walked bowlegged for a week and why every lady in the freaking palace is whispering about your tongue!”

Loki cringed in memory. Lady Volla. She had been the deliverer of bad sex.

“Dude, you’re just good, aren’t you? I feel like I can relate,” Peter Quill said most uselessly and Loki sighed in anguish as their captive stood up, with his wrists still tight in their cuffs, and walked towards them, companionably bumping Loki’s shoulder. “And, look, Darcy, to be fair, if I could fuck as many bitches as he seems to be getting, I would totally do it.”

Loki pushed Peter Quill away, contemplating binding his tongue as well. “Darcy, it was only one lady of the court! I did not tell you because I did not think you had any interests in who I chose to fuck!”

“Oh I don’t,” Darcy assured, putting her hands on her hips.

“You don’t?” Loki said disbelievingly. She was lying. She had to be lying. Clearly she cared. Not that he would care if their positions were switched. He wouldn’t. But he knew that she didn’t like his affiliations with women that were not her. “For some reason I doubt you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

She snorted. “Well then why do you care about the fact that I’ve got a date?”

“I don’t,” Loki said smoothly. He didn’t truly care that Darcy had dates. There was no point in caring. Even if he did wish to court her, which he did not, she would not wish to be with him because she liked women.

‘I’m not in love

so don’t forget it

It’s just a silly phase I’m going through’

Darcy and Loki stared at Peter Quill who was whistling idly, clearly ignoring their lethal expressions.

“I do not give a damn who you let in your bed, Darcy,” Loki said quietly, stepping closer to her so she had to angle her head up to look him full in the face. “So long as I am not there when you’re disappointed with your results.”

“Ooo,” Peter Quill said under his breath, “Sick burn.”

Darcy shoved him away. “Good. Because my ass has no shortage of admirers and, hell, maybe I’ll finally take Fandrall up on his offer!”

Loki swallowed his bile. “Darcy, do not say that. I think my stomach just dissolved itself.”

What an incredibly crude thing to say. Fandrall. Disgusting. Out of all the men she could have used as an example, why Fandrall? She did not even like men.

Darcy made a face as well. “Yeah, okay, you got me there. I wouldn’t go that far. But you know that date I have tonight that you don’t care about?”

“Yeah.”

She pushed her glasses up sassily. “It’s going to be great and I’m wearing that little black dress that makes my tits look fucking fantastic!”

Loki felt like he was going to explode into a billion tiny pieces. He knew exactly which dress she was talking about. “Firstly Darcy, your breasts always look fucking fantastic! Secondly, it is December, you will freeze in that outfit!”

“My date can keep me warm!”

‘Can’t stay at home can’t stay in school

Old folks say, ya poor little fool

Down the street I’m the girl next door

I’m the fox worth waiting for!

Hello Daddy, hello Mom

I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!

Hello world, I’m your wild girl

I’m your ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!’

Loki was too absorbed in fighting with Darcy to pay Peter Quill any of his attention. “What is her name?”

“What?” Darcy sneered, crossing her arms.

“Your date,” Loki demanded in a low growl. “What is her name?”

Darcy raised a brow. “His name is Johnny. Johnny Storm.”

What.

Loki just stared at her, unblinking, unmoving, unbelieving.

Then he understood his error.

Darcy had a date with an Idiot Boy.

Darcy liked men as well as women.

He was the most foolhardy dolt ever to live.

“Okay, you see, I thought I knew what was going on,” Peter Quill said, disrupting his blurry thought process, “but now I’m just lost.”

“You like men,” Loki stated blandly. “You like men and you have a date with an Idiot Boy.”

“I legit just said that,” Darcy snapped, grabbing his chin and pulling his face down so they were glaring directly at one another. “And he’s a blonde, baby.”

“Darcy—“

‘Oh baby, give me one more chance

(to show you that I love you)

Won’t you please let me back in your heart’

He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her against him and pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. He cradled the back of her head, gently tugging down on her thick brown tendrils so she could spit her rage directly to his face. Gods she was beautiful. Her fingers twisted in his own black locks almost painfully as they glared heatedly at each other. Loki was aware of how close her mouth was to his and how the feel of her breath against his lips made his skin tingle, awaiting sensation.

‘Baby, please, go all the way

It feels so right (feels so right)

Being with you here tonight

Please, go all the way

Just hold me close (hold me close)

Don't ever let me go’

Peter Quill cleared his throat loudly. “Hey, guys, this is great, I’m really happy for you. I can tell this has been a very rough break up. But, please, I ask this as a man with a love for his own ship, please do not fuck in the pilot’s chair. That’s my special place. Passenger seat, sure. You can even do it on the table, just not the chair. I’ll go downstairs. You guys are way too tense and the coordinates you put in lead to some place four hours away that doesn’t even exist.” Peter Quill held up his cuffed hands innocently. “I’m just sayin’, you need to resolve this tension. It’s unhealthy,”

“Do tell me, Darling, for I am curious,” Loki snarled, completely disregarding Peter Quill, “What else does he have besides blonde hair that could possibly gain your favor?”

Darcy’s brows came together and her blue eyes flashed in a way that made his knees weak. He shivered with anticipation, waiting for her gaze to set him aflame.

But the heat never came. Instead, she loosened her tight grip on his hair, a frown settling itself in the lines of her face. “He likes me. He wants to go on a date with me and maybe he wants to be in a relationship with me. He’s funny and hot and he asked me out with a cup of coffee. And. I. Like. Him.”

Her words sunk in slowly, like a stone through cooling tar, and soon they stuck in his mind as a solid impression of his mistake. There was no clear definition of how he felt, only that everything inside him hurt so much he felt sick.

The Idiot Boy, Johnny Storm, had been smarter than him.

“Aw, I thought you guys were going to kiss and make up or something,” Peter Quill complained.

“We’re not together, Star-Lord,” Darcy told him, quickly looking away from Loki. “Where’s your bathroom?”

“Up those stairs,” he said quietly, nodding his head in the right direction.

She brushed past him, making her way up the odd metal stairs. It wasn’t until heard the opening and closing of door that Loki remembered to breathe. But what use was breathing now that he realized his mistake?

Darcy made it vaguely clear that had he shown interest in her, had he simply told her that he wanted her she might have reciprocated.

And, yes, Loki did have feelings for her. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were or how they got there or even why, but they existed. When Darcy first came back from Culver, he wanted to be sure of himself, of what he wanted, before asking anything of her. And then she’d told him of Idiot Girl and he’d assumed the worst.  

And even after being proved wrong, there was no hope for him.

Confused, aching, and utterly ashamed, Loki stood by the console with his arms feeling particularly empty and his lips cold.

‘O-o-oh child things are gonna get easier

O-o-oh child thing will be brighter…’

Peter Quill offered him a sympathetic look. “What hurts more right now: your heart or your dick?”

“Yes,” Loki answered bitterly, falling into the pilot’s chair and preparing to brood for the next century.

                                                               ***

Darcy stood in the bathroom for a good thirty minutes. She would have stayed longer, but there was a poster of a naked woman posing by a space-ship hanging on the wall and Darcy couldn’t properly think things through with those seductive eyes staring at her.

Those stolen moments weren’t nearly enough time to think her way through everything she wanted to. But the basis of her thought process boiled down to:

Jesus Christ, Loki Odinson, what the Hel.

She took deep breaths, splashing cold water on her skin.

If she’d known Loki was going to react that way to her dating a guy, maybe she should’ve accepted Johnny Storm’s date invitation sooner.

Her freshman year of high school, Darcy had tutored his sister, Susan, who was senior class president at the time. Darcy found out quickly that Sue was really sweet and really smart.

Johnny, while quite an intelligent individual, was not sweet. Not at all. He was, however, boiling hot and only one grade ahead of Darcy. They had Advanced Physics together and Darcy spent most of the class using him as her personal distraction. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist, thick arms, messy blonde hair, he wasn’t Darcy’s first choice, but they flirted all the time and she was well aware that he enjoyed watching her walk away almost as much as he liked talking with her.

Her ass, once again, was totally on point.

Upon Darcy’s first week of meeting Johnny Storm, he asked her out twice. The first time had been a joking, informal suggestion that they skip class and get frisky somewhere they shouldn’t because she was complaining about how the janitors’ closets weren’t being put to good use. Darcy denied him with a liberal amount of snark.

The second time he asked her out was more formal. He invited her to ditch fifth period for him to take them on his motorcycle to go get lunch. It was a tempting offer, especially when his face was so damn attractive. But she declined his offer, thinking of how difficult it would be to date when she had so much to do already. Even as she denied him, she felt extremely dissatisfied. She deserved to go on dates and her work wasn’t imperative. She could make the time to be in a relationship or at least have someone with whom she could swap spit. Loki had a plethora of those partners.

In some horrifying ways, Johnny reminded Darcy of Loki. Neither of them obeyed the rules. What were rules? They didn’t know. They did whatever the hell they wanted and only accepted the consequences if it benefitted them. Not that they ever had to face the consequence of anything; they would have to get caught for that to happen. If Loki was the Asgardian version of a bad-boy, Johnny Storm was the epitome of the mortal model.

Darcy tended to partner up with him in labs because they could both idly do the work while talking. And by ‘talking’ Darcy totally meant ‘flirting’. They flirted non-stop.

Flirting wasn’t new to Darcy. She was a member of the Asgardian council and was working her way up to be in Odin’s inner circle of councilmen. The ‘High Council’, as he called it, was her desired place. But she would have to wait. In her current position, one of the best ways of being personable with people was to dance and laugh.

Johnny wasn’t an idiot and he’d already been accepted to Columbia University to study Physical Science. It took her forever to coax the truth out of him, but eventually he told her that he wanted to be an astronaut.

That’s when Darcy decided she would ask him out sometime. Johnny Storm confessing under his breath that he wanted to be an astronaut like a child with big eyes and bigger dreams was just too cute. So, last night, when Johnny Storm showed up after her soccer game with a cup of iced coffee and an offer to hang out the next evening. He told her that it didn’t have to be a date, but he did want to spend time with her. Darcy knew Johnny was a sweet talker, but she figured ‘what the hell?’ What was she waiting for? So, she asked him if he would reconsider going out with her, to which he said: “I’d be an idiot if I didn’t want to go out with you, babe.”

Boo Yah.

Darcy had winked at him and put an extra sway in her hips as she walked away just because she liked to look over her shoulder and see that mesmerized look on his face. Under normal circumstances, she would be pissed that someone was checking out her ass in such detail. But she kind of liked how Johnny was forward in his attraction to her and, to be fair, she spent her fair share of time watching his ass as well. He was hot, confident, hot, funny, hot, and he bought her coffee.  What’s not to like?

She was actually really excited for their date even if her father was extremely disappointed that she wasn’t lesbian. She’d let it slip to her parents that she had a relationship with a girl over the summer and Mr. Lewis was so relieved that he spent the next week happily reminding her of the benefits of being homosexual. His reasons mainly included no teen pregnancy.

The poor man almost cried when she told him she was a date with a guy. He had personally scheduled her appointment with her Ob/Gyn clinic. It was beyond embarrassing, but at least he cared.

Her mother had just been happy that Darcy was going out on a date. Darcy tried to explain Johnny the best she could to her mother, but the way she explained him made the school’s Hot-Bad-Boy sound like a cute nerdy bloke with a nice ass.

She wondered what they would think of Loki. He would probably do that thing with his eyebrows and make their knees weak because his face was just so annoying. And his eyes. Those were annoying too. And he smelled annoying. And his wiry physique…so very, very annoying.

And the most annoying thing of all is when he does crazy shit like everything that just happened out there.

He just got so defensive over her going on a date with a guy. It was like she was his younger sister or something.

Groaning, she let her head fall against the posters, her forehead thumping against the pink woman’s breasts. Great. That was it, wasn’t it? Loki was bringing out the ol’ overprotective older brother routine.

Perfect.

Great.

Fine.

Whatever.

What did she expect? That he might care? That he might be a bit angry? A bit jealous? Why would he be? He had all of those other women. He didn’t need her too. Not that she even wanted him. She wasn’t going to beat off ladies of the court with a stick. Loki could make his own decisions, just as she could make hers.

She was Darcy Fucking Lewis. She argued with kings, slept (chastely) with princes and drank tea with a Queen. She was outside of fucking Yggdrasil in some weirdo’s space ship for Christ sakes. She could have a fucking boyfriend if she wanted one.

And if Loki had a problem with it, he could kiss her ever loving ass, because she only had one older brother and he was at university in California.

With one last splash of cold water on her face, she made to leave the bathroom. But the moment her hand went to open the funky-space-door, she was thrown suddenly to the side.

She swore, working to get to her feet, holding her upper arm which was going to have a wicked bruise from hitting the counter.

Injury was far from her mind as she stumbled through the bathroom door. The entire ship was quaking violently, gadgets fell from high shelves, the walls vibrated, and Peter Quill’s voice could be faintly heard over the chaos.

The stairs were close and Darcy made it down them without falling. As soon as she made it to the bottom, the ship jerked forwards and Darcy staggered back, her glasses flying from her face. The telltale crack was disappointing, but it wasn’t enough to distract her from her main worry.

“Loki!?” she shouted, now squinting at the blurry cockpit of Peter Quill’s ship. She was used to looking at things without her glasses because she didn’t wear them on Asgard, but usually Asgard wasn’t about to be destroyed in a terrible space accident.

“Darcy!” Loki called back and she saw him by the pilot’s chair. She tripped over her feet, fighting the throes of mayhem overtaking the ship in order to reach him.

Peter Quill’s shouting became legible as she approached, barely dodging a boot that flew past her head. “…You flew us into a fucking storm! You are supposed to avoid these things! I told you, ‘Dude, don’t fly into that fucking cloud of dangerous looking shit.’ And what do you do? You fly into the worst fucking part of the dangerous looking shit!”

Darcy gasped as she stared out the window panel into the terrifying abyss they’d flown into. It was like they’d been submerged in a black cloud where a few spots of color blurred into existence, flashing in obvious threat. “Loki, what the hell?!”

Her friend had both hands on the console, frantically typing things, fingers flying as he watched the world outside. His green eyes were wide in wonder and that dangerous bit of curiosity. It reminded her how bored he was with idly doing research on Asgard. This is what Loki liked: almost dying while discovering new shit that everyone could have gone their entire lives without knowing. It was on her very long list of annoying things that she platonically loved about him.

That awed look on his face was giving her very conflicted feelings. “Darcy, do you not see it?”

She squinted into the storm, her eyes tracing over the streaks of green light in the distance that glittered like stars. Even from where they flew she could feel the terrific power they were emanating. “Um, I see us dying in the near future! Loki, get us out of here!”

Dissatisfaction crossed over his angular features. “You do not see it.”

“I see death! Is that not enough? Did you want a detailed description of us looking like crispy critters in the middle of the fucking galaxy?!”

He shook his head, his black hair falling from behind his ears, the sharp trimmed ends brushing his chin as he studied the sky. “We will not die. There is more.”

“More?” Peter Quill said, incredulously. “You want more?!”

Darcy grabbed one of Loki’s wrists, feeling how strong his magic was pushing into the ship, keeping them stabilized. If he was to break magical focus for even a moment, Peter Quill’s ship would not survive the storm. His face was contorted in frightening determination and Darcy knew he would not take such a dangerous risk with her present unless he had a damned good reason.

Inhaling deeply, Darcy brought her attentions back to the hectic space before them, willing herself to see what he saw. His magic buzzed under her fingers and she gazed warily at the cloud.

With every bit of will in her body, she pulled at her sense of magic, at her weak ability to feel only a fraction of what Loki knew.  She pulled at it so hard her insides felt like they were being stretched through a taffy puller, the soft striations of her magical muscles stretching so hard they would have bled had her pain been physical. But it was at the height of her agony that she saw it.

Light. Vicious, powerful, blinding light. Colors replaced spots of black, but she had not the words to identify them. All of it was so familiar, like she’d been seeing them all forever. It was only when she peered deeper into the void and witnessed a magnificent flare of a rainbow flickering in its depths did she realize that Loki was flying them straight into a colossal portal.

Loki had only theorized about passages of such a size. Anything was doable in theory, but this…it verged on impossibility.

One second of magical sight was one second to many and she retracted her hand from Loki’s wrist, releasing her tight hold on Loki’s wrist to slump to the ground. “Oh shit,” she slurred, light headed. If her vision had been blurry before, she was now nearing blind. Consciousness was quickly slipping from between her fingers as she fought to hold on.

Far away from her mind a bone clacking explosion split the ship and Peter Quill’s varied explicative language nearly drowned out the sound.

“Darcy!”

Loki’s voice sounded through the growing space between them.

A slick, scaly body wrapped around her middle as she drifted away, as if underwater. Loki called to her again, but she was already far too gone to answer him.

                                                               ***

Sigyn did not want to like Thor.

In her mind, there wasn’t much that she should like about him. He was brash, violent, rude and an unpleasant child. He was the epitome of the type of man she was raised to be subject to and his affections for Sif were enough to drive Sigyn to jealousy.

It was not that Sigyn was jealous of Thor. How could she be? There was nothing about him she found worthy of her envy, nothing physical or mental he had that she desired.

But she was jealous of him. She admitted it to herself daily how it was him, the blonde-haired son of an Ass, who had the power to give her Lady everything she ever wanted.

Who was it that gave Sif her armor and her sword? Companionship and challenges, adventures and laughter…all were funded by Thor’s friendship.

Sigyn often thought about what her life would be like if she were to marry Sif. What a nightmare that would be. No doubt her parents would disown her from the family for dedicating herself to a person with whom she could not make a person of their own blood. She would be left to poverty with nothing but the useless training of a lady and a head full of fictional tales she enjoyed reading.

Sif worked diligently for what she wanted for her life and it pained Sigyn to her very core that Sif could be better off without her, for she could offer nothing but herself and the love she had for the dark haired lady.

While Sigyn had previously been the most desired lady in the capital, her engagement of Thor had worked like magic to divert any suitors. They fled, their masculine tails between their legs, preening for another woman who might accept their hand. Now, when she sat at feasts next to Thor, as they were both obligated to tolerate one another’s company in public, Sif was laughing with her comrades, oblivious to their looks of pure adoration and attraction.

Did she not see that her every aspect, every movement and smile bore power? Could she not sense the wretched stench of their want for her? Sigyn found herself even more bitter of the less wealthy women because they had no obligation to bloodline or titles; they could be as they are and wed Sif without controversy.

She was mocked in loving Sif by her betrothal to Thor.

He was of age now and they were destined to be married soon.

Now, while Sigyn wanted to hate Thor for having the power to give Sif all that she could ever want, she did not. She knew for certain that the golden prince had no interest in either of the ladies romantically. As far as Sigyn knew, Thor never fancied any woman. He’d never willingly courted or romanced. Perhaps the right person had not come along yet. Sigyn reckoned that it would take a resilient woman to be partnered with his majesty, the prince of Asgard.

Then again, Sigyn was the woman partnered to him, was she not?

That disgusting arrangement had yet to be dealt with.

Thor knew now that Sif was her lady and that she was Sif’s. The night he interrupted them in Sif’s bed (a new destination for their passionate activities as they’d been taking many a risk that summer) he laughed so hard his face turned red. He congratulated them and teased Sif about how he knew there was a reason behind her happiness.

Of course, no matter how well Thor believed they went together, they could not make their relationship known to the public.

If Asgard was to know that Sif was in love with a woman and that she did not court men, then all rights she had to earning back her title and her family were gone. Sigyn wouldn’t ask Sif to do that, especially since she worked so diligently, so thoroughly to get her title back and become the finest warrior Asgard has ever seen.

She already was in Sigyn’s opinion, but of course the realm wanted proof. They would get it soon enough, for the war with Vanaheim was undoubtedly approaching.

Darcy had relaxed a great deal over the summer and for this Sigyn was glad; the little lady had been sick with stress. It was pleasing that her friend was well once again, though she did seem quite wound up as of late. Although, Sigyn felt the cause of her tense behaviors was rooted in Prince Loki’s rumored romanticisms. No one but Darcy ever claimed to have seen Loki in any of the zealous, lust-filled embraces the ladies gossiped about.

Sigyn would have believed that Darcy was simply being paranoid and in search of ways to hide her desires for Loki. However, she and Loki still conversed frequently and he confided in her, making the claim that Darcy liked only women.

Hardly surprised, she asked him why he should care to which he responded, “I do not. T’was only a shock.”

Sigyn, to put it as Darcy would, called ‘shenanigans’. The both of them were so very intelligent yet so stupidly oblivious. She figured she ought to let them suffer in their own idiocy. If they cannot be bold enough to state their affections, or better yet, display them as Sigyn had, then they deserve to suffer, for they are unprepared for the love of the other.

Then again, Sigyn supposed there must be other reasons. Loki was a prince and Darcy had not a well known family, in accordance to social standards, their courtship would be improper.

As for Sigyn, her parents would disown her the moment she told them that she had even the slightest of doubts about marrying Thor. Queen of Asgard was the highest position she could marry into and her parents, High Lord and Lady of Jolena, would not dare to let their daughter, Lady Sigyn, marry any but the best.

And yet, with the expectation of becoming Allmother approaching, Sigyn had not seen her family in over a century. Not that it mattered to them; she carried their name and their title, the greatest signs of their love she would ever receive.

It occurred to Sigyn often, that besides Sif’s love, her title was all she could truly call hers. And when she weighed their worth in mind, even one small taste of her lady’s lips was priceless compared to her name, for it was naught but a bill of sale from the purchase of the crowned prince’s hand.

His hand, which she was expected to take nearly every afternoon for a walk through the gardens or a dance in the feasting hall, was currently holding hers in the crook of his arm.

Even though Sigyn did not want to like Thor, she had come to accept the fact that he was not a terrible person. Arrogant and childish though he was, he cared enough about Sif and Loki that she did not truly hate him.

But more importantly, they shared one common sentiment that knit them together through their forced acquainting; neither of them wanted to marry the other.

Their time together was spent scheming, hours and hours of scheming how to get out of their arranged marriage. Thor was of course doing it for the sake of his bachelor days, but both of them stood for Sif’s happiness. It was an implicit truth between them that they did not wish to see her strong features fall when her closest friend and lady love were forced to marry.

Yet, despite the length of time they spent plotting the ruin of their wedding, they came no closer to finding a solution.

Thor sighed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I could ask Loki to set the floor aflame, only as an illusion. I’m sure he would find it entertaining.”

Sigyn quirked a grin. “Yes. Or we could send the cake to Volstagg for breakfast and the ceremony would be postponed.”

“Indeed,” he said tiredly as they had been listing off ridiculous scenarios most of the afternoon. “We could drink the ale before the ceremony rather than after and watch Darcy and Loki argue again.”

“Ahh,” Sigyn chuckled, remembering a few weeks ago when they pushed one another into a heated discussion about the proper amount of alcohol an Infinite Serpent could consume without becoming intoxicated. It was entertaining, mainly because neither of them could hold their drink well at all.  “That could be amusing, though I do recall Darcy swearing herself to sobriety the following morn.”

Thor chortled, shaking his head fondly. “Very well, no ale. I could be unfaithful to you.”

Sigyn gave him a sideway glance and they both laughed so hard it hurt, for even Sigyn knew that the only thing of Thor’s that received any semblance of fidelity was Mjolnir. How ridiculous it was to conspire over ill thoughts only to come forth with fictitious circumstances that they had no intentions of seeing through? Her throat tightened and she tugged on Thor’s arm for him to stop.

He did so and she watched as the humor vanished from his face when he witnessed the severity of her expression. “What have I done?”

She very nearly rolled her eyes. “I am not angry with you…well, not anymore than I was already.”

“Then why—“

“What is the point, Thor?” Sigyn said quietly, lowering her voice for Thor’s sake. She hardly cared what anyone truly thought of her anymore. Let them hear Lady Sigyn shout at her ‘beloved’ prince. “We could discuss means to corrupt the ceremonies, yet the true fault lies within the very basis of our matrimony. We cannot be. This…planning for events that might never take place…is useless.”

She sighed heavily, willing herself not to cry in frustration. Thor’s large hand patted hers. “I know. Still it helps, does it not? To make light of it?”

Determinedly, she lifted her chin, staring her betrothed in his deep blue eyes. There she saw everything that she would ever need to know about the future of their marriage. They would wed, perhaps they would sleep in the same bed, but they would not consummate the marriage. He would be unfaithful to her as she would be to him. Sif would be heartbroken and Sigyn would boil with rage every moment of everyday while she kept her love a secret.

She could not let that happen. Her pride would not stand for lying to the Nine Realms and the gods about who had her heart. “I will not marry you, Thor. We must find a way around this.”

His blonde brows came together, mirroring Sigyn’s irritation. “I do not think either of us have a choice.”

Disbelief cloaked her skin, setting a steady drip of anger to pool in the pit of her stomach. “How do you mean?” she growled lowly.

Thor pulled away from her, crossing his thick, masculine arms, his shoulder brushing the leaves of an enormous lilac bush. “Come now, Sigyn. It is too late. There is nothing to do. The Allfather believes that the only possible way to tame my merriment is marriage and your parents would sooner let the dogs have you than to deny you the throne. And for what? The hand of a nameless military woman?”

Her fists clenched and shook at her sides. Rage became her and she found herself powerless, a small bead of energy with no purpose or destination, no outlet or system to be of value to. She couldn’t deny Thor, but she could not help but offer countenance. “I love her. Perhaps that is easy to forget when you have not loved in such a way before, but know this: I would sooner burn before I promised all the worlds that I loved you. She will not be my mistress as you are bound to have your own. She is mine as I am hers and—“

“Then I shall plant the stake and light the torch,” Thor interrupted, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “I do not doubt your love nor do I support our marriage. It is only a matter of fact that the only way for the two of you to be together as you wish is if Sif were to abandon any hope she had of ever reuniting with her family and if you were to discard your titles.”

Sigyn opened her mouth, prepared to argue that she was more than willing to give up her name, which she was. Let her be poor, at least she could be happy. Then she thought of Sif, her dear lover who spoke ill of her parents but adoringly of her brother. Sif who fought and braved poverty and shame to become the warrior she was. Even if and when she rose above her station and wore a title she earned herself, her marriage to Sigyn could cause her family to extend her disowned punishment for eternity.

Thor watched as the wicked truth overcame Sigyn once more and he gave her a small, sympathetic smile. “Till tomorrow, Lady Sigyn,” he bid her. Sigyn was glad he had stopped kissing her hand, for every time she was overcome with the urge to turn his perfect teeth with her knuckle.

His departure left Sigyn alone with the roses. Perhaps they had a better solution. She supposed she should wait by their wilting heads for a while and listen, just to be sure she didn’t miss their suggestions if they decided to speak.

“Dude, wake up.”

Something poked Loki’s cheek and he irritably pushed it away.

“Oi! Prince of Ass! Dick that wrecked my fucking ship!” Peter Quill’s angry taunts roused Loki from his resting state and he squinted up at the space-mortal from his spot on the ground.

His hands were still bound in front of him and he looked like he wanted to tear Loki into tiny pieces. “Oh good, you’re up. Do you just have a thing for danger and pissing people off? I think you do because most people, when they see a fucking black cloud of chaos, they fly away from it, not INTO IT!”

Loki sat up, scrubbing a hand over his face and recalling what had happened.

The ‘black cloud of chaos’ as Peter Quill called it was possibly the greatest magical anomaly Loki had ever seen. It wasn’t naturally occurring; someone, or something, had created it a very long time ago, perhaps even before Asgard was even a standing civilization. Yet, Peter Quill had not ever seen it and, upon approaching it, claimed that there was nothing in the direction they were going; it was dangerous to continue.

But the power drew Loki in. While Peter Quill, and seemingly the rest of the galaxy, shied away from it, Loki saw the storm for what it truly was and he couldn’t look away. It was truly glorious, a wonder that few would ever get the experience to see and survive. His magic was just enough to fortify Peter Quill’s ship against the sheer power of the anomaly. Although it was a portal, it was innately repelling. He could see it in both Quill and Darcy; they couldn’t feel the gravity of it. It warded them off because, had they not been accompanied by him, they would have been blown to dust.

His original intentions were to take them through the portal to where their coordinates indicated the infinity stone was. The possibility that the cloud was defending or perhaps even powered by a stone was quite a feasible notion and Loki was prepared to test it. His magic held steady so long as he focused.

Then Darcy happened.

Immediately, Loki stood up, glancing around the dark, empty terrain of where they’d fallen. The shattered husk of Peter Quill’s ship lay in ruin not five meters away and Fenrir was pacing worried circles around it.

“Darcy!” he shouted, stumbling uneasily to the fractured metal structure, his heart pounding in earnest. He was magically drained, which made even the basic functions difficult, but his dread of the state of his beloved mortal was enough to overpower any physical pain he could ever endure.

Calling her name, he clawed at the jagged remains, listening intently for her response. Fenrir whined beside him as he tore away an especially large chunk of metal away, slicing his palms in the process.

“Loki, hey man, I’m sorry—“

Adrenaline fueled fear and rage burned his veins and he turned on Peter Quill, grabbing him by the collar and shaking him roughly. “Where is she?”

The young man’s mouth bent into an apologetic frown. “The second engine blew, it tore away and she slid out the back of the ship with your snake.”

Loki released him as the events of their crash returned to him.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

The ship could have stayed together had he just kept his focus. But he had been distracted by Darcy. Her tiny gasp, the wondrous look in her eyes that told him she saw everything that she’d never been able to due to her mortal lack of magic.

He was Loki, and as Loki, beautiful women should not be enough to divert his attention from keeping them from dying.

But it hadn’t been just any beautiful woman. It had been Darcy Lewis; his ridiculous mortal who he believed had breached the barrier that separated her overall sense of magic and the will to use it. Most magic she could see because it was apparent and weak. The force of that cloud had such concentrated power that no unpracticed mortal would have been able to even acknowledge was anything but a collection of frightening gasses swarmed together in space.

But she had. She had done it. He witnessed the moment when her eyes brightened and her full lips parted at the majesty of all that she had been blind to.

It wasn’t her realization that broke his concentration, it was the events following.

When the second of her sight passed, her clear blue eyes rolled back in her head and she sunk to her knees.

Magic was a challenging tool. It was a muscle, meant to be exercised and pushed to reasonable boundaries until the owner’s capabilities grew.

Loki would have been able to see what Darcy had as a babe. But he was Asgardian. Darcy was a mortal. Magic was not so easy to learn for humans and Darcy never had any proper guidance. He never thought she would need it.

Then again, she was Darcy and she was always surprising him.

Using all of one’s energy too quickly has the potential to kill its conductor. He’d almost killed himself multiple times trying to accomplish spells that were too difficult at a young age before his magic had manifested enough to withstand the might of his will.

So, when Darcy fell to her knees, limp and losing consciousness, his focus on keeping the ship together was involuntarily sacrificed for the rescue of his ridiculous mortal.

In a matter of seconds, the ship fell to ruin and he remembered reaching for her as their worlds fell into chaos.

Loki clenched his fists, blood dribbling over his knuckles as he grappled at the frayed edges of his sanity.

Darcy could not be gone.

Gone without seeing all that she could. Gone without ever becoming president. Gone without ruling Asgard, or making all of the difference that she wanted to, or going to Culver. Gone after their petty fight. Gone without knowing how he loved her.

Fenrir whined loudly in obvious anguish. He made a hiss-like-howl and Loki willed it not to be true.

His magic was returning and he could feel the skin on his palms starting to heal. Bitter, all-encompassing, devastating sentiment yanked at the pit of his stomach and he wanted to raze whatever world he’d landed. To Hel with infinity stones. To Hel with Peter Quill and the storm.

He raised his hands glowing green with fury, prepared to show the portal just how destructive he could be. It was not the only thing in the universe that could cause irrevocable damage. Ire ravaged his grief, preparing it to pain him incessantly later. For now, he would scar all that he could lay waste to.

“Wait!” Peter Quill interrupted, walking to stand in front of Loki. His eyes were far too hopeful for how Loki was feeling. Did this stupid man not realize that he was attempting to cause severe chaos to avenge Darcy? Not that it would do any good, for he was the one at fault. To seek vengeance for Darcy would be to punish himself. But he could not even do that properly, for there was no greater torment than the loss of her.

Peter Quill kept talking anyways, holding out his cuffed hands in anticipation. “You said that black cloud thing was a portal, right? In your sleep you called it a portal. Is that true?”

Loki nodded, letting his head fall back and staring up at the stars. They mocked him still.

“Dude, maybe your girlfriend didn’t die! Maybe she just got through the portal and ended up somewhere else on this planet!” Quill encouraged, “And, while we’re out here, would you mind taking these off?” he nodded to his handcuffs.

Loki waved a hand and the binds dissipated in a green mist, his mind already on Darcy.

The dumb mortal man brought a valid point that threatened to tempt Loki with the beguiling call of hope.

Jörmungandr had fallen with Darcy into the portal. He wouldn’t let Darcy be hurt, this he knew.

And the portal…

Loki rushed to the ship debris, tearing his way to the console area where he was pleased in finding their map intact. From the mess he also procured Peter Quill’s map and he swallowed the desolation he felt at the markings made by Darcy. Would they be the last thing she ever wrote? Out of all her letters, all of the notes she left him and documents she published, would this be her last great work? A few lines on a spatially inaccurate sheet of paper?

He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. She would be fine.

Peter Quill peered curiously over his shoulder. “Sooo, what’s the verdict and what’s the chance that you have five-hundred thousand units to pay for my Milano?”

Loki grimaced, deciding whether or not to trust Peter Quill. He didn’t need his help, however, he was being a very cooperative captive especially since Loki had crashed his ship and stranded them on a long lost world.

He sighed, looking to his ship. “I will fix it later.”

Quill’s gaze shifted from his wreck of a vehicle to Loki, kneeling in the dirt and reading a map of scribbles. “Uh, don’t get me wrong, you seem plenty smart and everything, but I don’t think you can fix that alone.”

“Well,” Loki muttered, carefully reading through the senseless words that were stuck together sporadically outside the galaxy. “I do not care what you think.”

“Touché.”

He sighed, studying the map, finding their location. Darcy’s estimations had worked, she’d navigated them correctly. The infinity stone was close.

At the moment, he couldn't care less about the infinity stone. Darcy was his treasure and he did not have a map to find her. He had an entire universe and the chance that she was somewhere in it and not doomed to the darkened pits of Helheim was verging on unlikely.

Breathing deeply, he glared at the stars, their bright forms shrouded in the haze from the foreboding cloud of energy. Even from his place on the ground, he could sense the portal’s power. Focusing on the portal he analyzed the severity of their situation.

If he was going to find Darcy, he would need to get off this damned planet.

His investigation into the portal was cut short when the nature of the energy dawned on him. He cursed in Allspeak, reverting to his native tongue, abandoning all magical influence on his language.

“What is it?” Peter Quill asked, stepping out of his ship, a music device in one hand and a brightly colored package in the other.

Loki was close to blowing universe to smithereens. He didn’t know how successful he would be, but he could try.

“We cannot leave,” he nearly growled, relaxing his fists so Fenrir could inspect his healed wounds. “At least not while the portal is functioning.”

Peter Quill’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Please tell me you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I am not,” Loki assured, standing up and kneading his brow. “It is a defense mechanism, a very good one at that. Its power is meant to ward off those who cannot withstand it. Additionally, it is a portal. Anyone attempting to reach this planet must know exactly how to penetrate the portal without letting it transport them to some estranged spot in the galaxy.”

“What does that have to do with us leaving?” Quill asked, now attaching his weapons back on his belt. “Assuming you can fix my ship, why can’t we just fly out?”

Loki wished Darcy was there, she would understand without his explanation. It dawned on him that if Darcy was…if Darcy had perished, truly gone from him, there would be no one in the world that understood him. He would not be able to explain his thoughts to anyone, for they would not have an inkling as to what he spoke of.

“It is a cyclone of sorts, constantly moving, spiraling infinitely inward. The center, or ‘the eye of the storm’ if you will, is where we entered and it is the central point of gravity. The entire portal is focused around this point.” Loki said, tossing aside Peter Quill’s map and Darcy’s last written words. She would write more. He would not give up on her yet. She would survive.

“So, it’s a one way path, right?” Quill simplified, crossing his arms. “We’re stuck here.”

“Yes,” Loki’s face screwed up in grim determination. “There might be a way to stop it.” A way to go find Darcy.

“Cool. How?” Quill asked rummaging through the debris for an odd headset which he fit behind his ear.

Loki clenched his jaw, folding the map of the infinity stones and carefully tucking it away inside his armor. He opened his mouth to answer Peter Quill’s question when something amongst the wreckage caught his eye.

A set of black framed glasses, bent, with the left lens cracked. They were Darcy’s glasses.

Numb, he bent down and picked them up, holding them tightly in hand. Fenrir whined at the sky and Loki took several long seconds to focus his rage. With a tight throat, he growled an answer for Peter Quill.

“We find its source of power.”

                                                               ***

Darcy felt like Thor used Mjolnir to turn her body into the Darcy Lewis rendition of ‘Whack-a-Mole’.

She groaned loudly, agonized by the well known sensation of sore muscles and bruises. Except they were everywhere and Loki wasn’t there to make them go away with his magic powers.

The thought of Loki caused her to gasp and sit up, her forehead bumping against the scaly green head of her serpent friend. “Frank,” she breathed as a sigh of relief, raising a hand to stroke his scales. “Where are we?”

He made a few noises, tongue flicking her nose briefly as she examined their surroundings. They were in an alley way of sorts, the passage was thin with just enough space for her to lay down in. The walls on either side of her were metal and the ground was warm to the touch. It was also incredibly filthy.

Foreign sounds rattled, clanged and screeched from the world outside her darkened crevice and she flinched away from them. Clearly she was in a city of sorts and the space she currently inhabited was either underground or in the slums. Darkness shrouded them so thickly that the only visible thing was the greenish smog that swarmed in a noxious cloud just above the ground.

She crinkled her nose in disgust and turned her attention back to Frank who looked just as confused as she was. “Loki isn’t here, is he?”

Frank whined, much like a dog would, and slithered his entire heavy length in her lap. He didn’t really fit, but Darcy needed his weight as reassurance that she wasn’t alone. The events leading up to her and Frank’s dismemberment from Loki, Fenrir and Peter Quill were quickly returning to her memory.

“God fucking dammit!” Darcy swore, scrubbing her hands over her face. “How could I be so stupid?! Jesus Christ, Frank, I lost Loki in space. The ship…”

Destruction flashed in her mind as she thought back to the moment of their separation, the blinding beauty of the storm…Loki’s voice calling after her. No doubt the ship had crashed, Loki along with it. Would the impact kill him? Or would the storm kill him?

She shook her head, chasing the idea away. He was Loki. He couldn’t die…not now. Not after they fought. Would he think that she didn’t love him? That they weren’t friends anymore? Did he die not knowing that he was her everything?

Inhaling deeply, she stared Frank in the eye. “He’s Loki, Frank. Right? He wouldn’t be stupid enough to let the storm kill him, would he?”

His nose touched hers and he offered another comforting lick.

“It was a portal,” Darcy recalled, her throat tight. “We were already almost through it before I passed out. He would have made it, right?”

Another lick.

Darcy took a few calming breaths, placing a hand over her heart to press down the rising stress. She focused on different parts of her body and the dull pains that throbbed every so often, taking time to allow her nerves to settle. She needed to think less about whether Loki was alive and more on how to find him.

And to do that, she needed to know where she was.

With shaky limbs, she got to her feet, allowing Frank to wrap himself around her body. She still had both her swords and none of her bones felt broken. However, she would ask Loki to check out her organs for internal bleeding when she found him.

And she would find him.

Resolute in this fact, Darcy made to take a step forwards when her toe hit something hard and heavy. Curiously, she bent down to pick up one of Peter Quill’s hand-held weapons. It took her only a moment to make up her mind to belt it on, just above her swords.

Her heart rate slowed as she relaxed in her current position. The darkened alley ahead of her echoed with shouts of dangers and the challenges ahead. She and Frank shared a determined look as the uncertainty of the future dawned on them. “Are you ready for this?”

Frank licked her once in a quick, sure response. With a quick nod, they stepped into the abyss, Darcy’s thoughts on Loki. She would find him somehow, even if she had to fight her way out of nowhere.

                                                                           ***

Loki was going to murder Peter Quill.

He was a miserable complainer, a slow walker and he relished in telling tale after tale of his conquests in bed. While hearing very detailed accounts of his escapades with an ‘Askavarian’ woman made something deep inside him quiver with discomfort, they distracted him from thoughts of Darcy as they trudged across a deserted landscape.

The location at which they’d crashed had been fairly desolate with only sand and a few lonely boulders stretched across the horizon.

But as their progressed in their trek towards the location of the portal’s power source, they began to see signs of civilization.

At first it seemed incredibly odd to Loki that anyone should inhabit this land that was guarded by an ancient portal and home to a dangerous entity such as an infinity stone. It did not take him long to realize that the structures had long been abandoned and that the quaint little houses that perched on the ground like little birds in his mother’s water gardens, were nothing less than colossal edifices, sunken into the ground.

Great, columned monuments, stone masterpieces, gargantuan foundations built to support constructions the size of moons rose from the ground, crumbling and fading from existence. Normally, Loki would not be impressed by such archaic architecture. He was Asgardian. He lived amongst the greatest designers in the Nine Realms. While the variance in culture was fascinating, what made it more so was the size.

Asgardians were not small beings. They were not short and burly like dwarves or slight and willowy like the elves. They were similarly sized to mortals, but paid more care to their living space. Even the lower class lived in some state of grandeur.

Yet even Asgard’s opulence could not compare to the land’s magnificence.

Everything was enormous. A Frost Giant would say that Ymir would be naught but an ant compared to the beings that shaped together this dead civilization.  It was clear that the builders were larger than most when they came upon the first structures. It was only when they entered the city did the majesty of its greatness truly begin to show.

Loki wished Darcy were there to see it. She would love the swirling colors of the galaxies spinning above them and the way space seemed to expand with every step taken further into the crumbling city. He willed himself to believe that she would see this one day.

Loki could feel the magical essence of the infinity stone through the ancient decaying structures. Even over the great distance, its power screamed at him. The essence of the stone felt very different from the Aether; they were two entirely different entities. While the Aether was parasitical and encompassing of the mind, the sensation Loki detected now was just…powerful. If Darcy were there, she would not be able to feel it’s presence quite yet. But she would have understood his meaning and her magical perception was so keen it was nearly intuitive.

Even so, it made sense to him now why Bor had gone through so much trouble to create a dimension in which to hide the Aether. Any sorcerer with even the briefest training in magical sensory would be able to detect its existence.

The previous inhabitants of this land would have been able to feel it.

Their venture through the city was interesting. They must have walked more than several Midgardian kilometers by now. Loki always walked fast, though usually he slowed down for Darcy since she was mortal and her legs were shorter. But now, he had only Peter Quill and Fenrir to be concerned about. Fenrir was completely at peace with their pace, even speeding up at times like he sensed something, then retreating again and Loki couldn’t care less whether Peter Quill got tired and couldn’t walk any longer.  The only thing that truly bothered him was his incessant talking about bedding women.

If Loki wished, he could speak about bedding both women and men. However, he did not because he had no reason to speak of that to Peter Quill. Did Peter Quill need to know of his skills in bed? No. No he did not. Loki was a prince. A well mannered, sharp witted prince who liked to keep some mystery to his life.

Surprisingly enough, Quill kept up. They walked, and although he presented some signs of fatigue, it was not much. Loki was still deciding whether or not he was completely mortal. Part of him was, but it was highly probable that one of his parents had been something other than human. Loki found this interesting, for he did not know that different races could breed.

Perhaps their spawn would only come out as odd mutts like Peter Quill.

He thought back to Angrboða and her children and quickly changed his mind. Peter Quill could be a category all his own.

“…then she threw a rodent at my head! It was crazy! She was a good lay though. Had a funny birthmark on her ass. Wish I could remember her name.” Quill sighed in reminiscence of his past bedmates as they came to a large plaza-like area. Gargantuan towers constructed of smooth stone and ancient, deteriorating metals loomed over them as they descended a crumbling flight of stairs. It took several long paces to reach the end of each individual step where, to avoid the steep drop, Loki transported them to the next. He wouldn’t dare take them any further. He needed all his magic if he was going to defend his being against another infinity stone.

“But, hey, I’ve gotta move on. I can’t be tied down, you know what I mean?” Quill asked, jogging to keep pace behind Loki as they tread across the stairs. “Speaking of moving on, do you know where we are? Because so far we’ve only been walking in one direction. And I might start listening at music at some point; you are a horrible conversationalist. Do you even know what kind of people lived here? Other than, like, them being really fucking tall.”

Loki magicked them to the bottom of the stairs and continued walking towards the source of power. He believed that it was the Infinity Stone that powered the portal. If he could get the stone, he could turn off the portal and they’d be free to go.

Still, Peter Quill brought up his main query as to who this dead and hidden civilization belonged to. Loki had been theorizing that it was the land of the Celestials. His suspicions were confirmed at the bottom of the stairs where a massive wall stretching along the edge of the square. Writing was etched onto the deteriorating surface. Loki could only read it if he stepped back far enough that the entire phrases were in his line of sight.

Allspeak did not include Celestian. He and Darcy had to learn it by themselves. It had taken a long time for him to develop any kind of fluency in it. The language was so old that it had no root. The structure was made up of sayings and comparisons of creatures and things unknown to the living world. It was somehow elegant in its many colloquialisms that had troubled his learning of it.

Darcy had struggled as well. The map was gibberish, but identifying the Celestian words was necessary for deciphering locations.

Though it had been almost too long since he and Darcy practiced conversing in the ancient tongue, he could still read the words inscribed on the wall. He read the words aloud, smirking a bit at their meaning.

For once, Peter Quill said nothing, only gaping quietly at the young prince. Loki turned to him curiously. “Yes?”

“Dude,” Quill said in a disbelieving undertone. “Be real with me here. Is that Celestian?”

“Yes,” Loki said, reading over the wall again. “A dead language, much like the race.”

Quill snorted. “Yeah, no shit. The closest anyone has ever come to understanding anything about the Celestials is emptying their head-guts out and using them for science.”

Loki made a face and Peter Quill held up his hands defensively. “I know it sounds crazy, but people will pay four million units for just a few drops of brain goo from Knowhere. The fact that you can read it…can most people do that from wherever the hell you come from?”

Shaking his head, Loki tried to make sense of Peter Quill’s words. “No. Darcy can. It was…challenging…to learn. She spent the more time cursing the words rather than trying to read them…” he trailed off, his heart clenching with the reminder of Darcy’s possible death.

“Your relationship confuses me, man,” Peter Quill stated as they stood facing the Celestian script. Fenrir sat at their feet, panting heavily as he had not stopped running in the hour they’d been traveling. “I mean, you obviously get it a lot, or have in the past, and your girlfriend is getting it from other girls. Which is hot. Unfortunate for you, but good for her.”

Loki clenched his jaw. “We are not courting.”

Peter Quill rolled his eyes. “See, this is how I know you haven’t been laid in forever. You have a pole up your ass. You’re so uptight.”

Sighing exasperatedly, Loki kneaded his brow. “Is there a purpose to your words or do you simply enjoy the sound of your own voice?”

“Both,” Quill retorted. “Look man, I’m just saying that you guys have some serious chemistry. I should know, I’m all about chemistry. Speaking of which, Lokester... can I call you Lokester?”

“No.”

“Lokester, you have got to tell me some of your moves, man. Like, how’d you get so good?” Peter Quill inquired admiringly.

“It is unimportant,” Loki said, bringing his attention back to the Celestian words. They were very close.

Quill huffed in disappointment. “Fine, crash my ship, strand me on some weird ass planet and don’t give me any sex tips. I see how it is….Lokester.”

Loki contemplated telling Jörmungandr to eat the dear Star-Lord just for fun when he remembered that Jörmungandr was with Darcy…alive somewhere in the galaxy.

“Fine, if you won’t tell me how to be a god in bed, at least cough up what the Celestian says.” Quill insisted, giving Loki’s shoulder a shove.

The prince crossed his arms, making up his mind to take them forwards. “There is no direct translation for it. It is a public warning.”

Peter Quill squinted at the sign. “A warning for what?”

Loki raked his gaze across the empty, rotting city and its hollow, still air. The vastness of the place made it somehow emptier. “Death.”

“Oh.” Peter Quill swallowed roughly. “Awesome.”

Nodding, mainly to himself, Loki read through the phrases, warning of Celestian extinction, once more. If Darcy were there, he would have wanted to know the answer to one of history’s greatest inquiries: How did the Celestials, the most powerful race ever known to exist, suddenly die, leaving behind only six little rocks in their place. But Darcy was not there and in her absence, the mysteries of the universe were better left unsolved.

He turned away from the text, beginning to walk again. “Come. We are close.”

                                                               ***

“The middle of Knowhere.”

Darcy grimaced at the purplish hued fellow with four eyes who she’d decided to ask directions from. Her and Frank had managed to find their way out of the alley easily enough. It only took a few minutes to find some light source and then high-tail it out of there.

Then things got a little crazy.

They were indeed in the middle of a city and there didn’t seem to be any rules whatsoever. In the middle of the square she stood in now, there were several large pools of toxic looking yellow slime. The bar not a few paces away had a main attraction that involved placing bets on rodents being eaten by an even larger rodent.

There was so much going on and Darcy wished she could see it all; maybe there was something she was missing that could help her find Loki.

He would get a kick out of this place. There was trouble everywhere and with even the slightest touch of mischief this place could go from city of sin to absolute chaos in a matter of seconds.

The problem was that she couldn’t figure out where the hell she was because everyone she asked just said she was in ‘nowhere’.

“The middle of nowhere,” Darcy repeated incredulously, staring up at the man. He wore a sleeveless coat with a lot of buckles and his arms looked thicker than Thor’s head. “Could you be any more specific?”

Mr. Purple’s bulging muscles twitched in annoyance and he blinked, one eye right after the other. “What? You want coordinates too?” he asked rudely.

Darcy fit her hands on her hips, Frank shifting to flick his tongue at the possible offender. “Yeah, that’d be great actually.”

Clearly, manners weren’t commonplace in the middle of nowhere. Mr. Purple barked a rough laugh, pushing past her and making his way into the hoard of people. “Stupid girl, doesn’t even know what Knowhere is.”

Darcy gripped her sword, ready to go Asgardian and start a fight when her sight fell onto a tattered billboard over a dilapidated looking storefront.

“‘Welcome to Knowhere.’” Darcy read aloud, cocking her hip to the side. “Well, how about that.”

Frank opened his mouth in something with semblance of a hopeful smile. As miserable as their situation was, she couldn’t help but smile back. She knew that Frank was just as worried and as scared as she was, but he still tried to make her feel better.  Overcome by a sudden rush of affection for her snake, she pet his head, swallowing hard and willing herself not to cry. “Come on, let’s see if we can get a vehicle. If we can get to the coordinates we lost Loki at, we can figure out what to do then.”

Purposefully, she made her way to that sketchy bar she’d seen earlier with the rodent betting.

It was crowded. People of all shapes, sizes, colors and smells milled about, shouting taunts at one another in several different languages. Darcy understood them, but they spoke so informally that it was difficult for her to truly comprehend what they were communicating exactly.

The atmosphere was cramped and although the scent was foreign, Darcy could still determine that the humid, moist texture of the air was a product of sweaty bodies and drink. People, mostly men (or at least she thought they were men) were screaming at the rodent table, cheering on little rat-looking things before they were eaten by an even larger rat-looking thing.

She decided she’d name the big one ‘Odin’ because one of its eyes was a yellow-golden color and the other one was missing.

Odin the Rodent was happily munching on one of its little inferiors as Darcy proceeded to the bar, halting in her tracks when a disheveled man with a series of green tattoos running down his yellow arms was thrown down in front of her, shoved away by a man with deep blue skin, two beady eyes and a smarmy smile.

“Stay down, whelp,” he growled, retreating to the bar where he turned his attention upon a seemingly scared girl with a round-pink face. She was probably the cleanest thing in the room and Darcy got the feeling that these people weren’t her preferred company. She said something to the man, as if trying to persuade him, but he only laughed and moved uncomfortable close to her.

Darcy moved to the bar, a few stools down, waving her arm to get the attention of the bartender. If need be, she would step in. But she didn’t want to cause any more commotion than need be. Being outside of Yggdrasil was untried grounds. There was so little interference between the Galaxy Beyond and the Nine Realms that she was unsure of how violent interactions would influence that relationship.

The bartender, a woman with teeth like needles and  a shrill voice asked her what she wanted to drink. Darcy shook her head, shouting over the noise. “Do you know where I can get a ship?!”

Her needle-teeth flashed and she flipped several thick, ropey locks of green hair out of her face. “You go to my sister, Nkarya, she sell you ship. Six thousand units.”

Darcy made a face, thinking about the lack of currency on her person. Thievery was always an option, but once again she ran into unpleasant interactions between Yggdrasil and the Galaxy. Loki wouldn’t worry about it, mischief would tempt him and chaos would ensue. She cursed herself for being careful. Then again, Loki had the insurance of magic to save his ass, not to mention he was a much better liar.

She addressed the barmaid with a negotiating tone, “Is there any way I would be able to buy it on a loan?”

The barmaid was silent for a moment before screeching a piercing laugh. “You want to borrow ship? Give money later?”

Darcy smirked, leaning on the bar, Frank coiling around her body. “That’s the idea.”

The woman laughed harder. “You have no money. You go now. No money, no drink, no ship.” She turned away from her, moving down the bar to tend to the bar’s rowdy occupants. “You go.”

“Wait!” Darcy called over the noise. “You don’t understand, I need a ship!”

She made a sound at Darcy, followed by an apparently rude hand gesture. “This is Knowhere! You are thief, no? Thief steal ship, why you ask? You go or I make call.”

Darcy was about to protest when the barmaid added an insult under her breath that roughly translated to ‘Stupid girl’ but Darcy got the feeling that it was a great deal cruder than the phrase implied. She left again and Darcy felt it best to relent.

Odin the Rodent was gnawing on the bones of its most recent victim, the crowd around him cheering drunkenly. Her chest was uncomfortably tight with the realization of her helplessness. Loki could be anywhere. He might not have made it to the other side of the portal. He could have taken a trip to Helheim instead, if such a thing happens after death.

“Stay positive, Darce,” she muttered to herself, casting a sideways look at the pink girl. The beady-eyed guy had backed off and was listening intently to something she was saying. Just to seem less conspicuous Darcy picked up a tankard from the bar and swirled the contents, idly listening in on their conversation.

“…If you would be willing to sell it, my employer would pay handsomely for it. If it is not money you seek, he would like to make a trade,” she said coolly and Darcy got the impression that negotiating business deals wasn’t something this girl was familiar with doing. Or maybe she was and it terrified her.

The man glared skeptically. “Who is your employer?”

“That is classified,” the pink girl said timidly, folding her hands in her lap atop a white skirt, “May I see the object?”

His hand, bulky and with four fingers, twitched towards his breast pocket instinctually. “Wait, I don’t know about this. How much am I going to get?”

“My employer is generous,” the girl assured hastily, glancing around nervously.

Darcy sipped her drink and instantly spit it back out. Whatever she just drank, it wasn’t Asgardian ale. The blue skinned man sneered, standing up to leer over the lady. “I won’t show it in here. Outside.”

That demand reeked of bullshit. Darcy waited for the girl to tell this asshole to take a hike, but she only nodded and stood up, letting him lead the way out of the bar.

Frank made a distressed sound and Darcy looked to him, pained. “Frank, we are not vigilantes, understand? This is a one time thing. Don’t give me that look. We are trying not to piss off the galaxy. We’ll help out this chick because that guy is a douche and we are not assholes. Then we’ll see if her employer wants to trade everlasting gratitude for a functioning ship.”

They nodded to one another and Darcy promptly pushed her way out of the bar, elbowing her way past sweaty people gathering around a brawl that had broken out over the death of Odin the Rodent’s last kill.

In the air hundreds of ships were flying around, mocking her with their mobility. She noticed that few were as nice as Peter Quill’s. All of them, and the entirety of Knowhere, seemed to be in some kind of cover, like the city was encased in a giant shelter. In the distance, she could make out a blurry dark spot that looked like it could be space. It was hard to be sure without her glasses.

Even in the fuzzy mess that was her vision, she saw the pink girl follow Big-Bad-and-Blue around a corner and into an alley.

She followed as stealthily as possible and in her mind she heard Loki teasing her efforts. A sharp pang of worry threatened to take her over, but she forced herself to continue on. She would find him.

Through the shadows, away from the din of the streets, Darcy trailed behind them, watching as they entered a shabby building. It appeared to be part of a complex working of structures, pieced together from sheets of metal and miscellaneous scraps of materials unknown to Darcy.

Slipping through the door, Darcy grasped the hilt of her sword questioningly. The place seemed to be abandoned; she would only have to fend off the one guy. But it wouldn’t be a fair fight and she didn’t know how experienced these people were with sword fighting.

It was cramped inside, though very empty and very dark save a light at the end of the hall where the pink girl looked up at the imposing blue guy. “My employer is very interested in what you have.”

“Then your employer can come and negotiate himself,” he snarled, cracking all eight of his knuckles, “Now, take me to him. I’ve seen you come in and out of this part of Knowhere, talking people out of their valuables…you and your ‘employer’. He’s gotta be loaded by now, yeah?”

The pink girl trembled, pulling out a smallish gun which he quickly knocked away. It flew in Darcy’s direction and Frank caught it in his mouth, swallowing the weapon whole. Mr. Blue, who had been ready to get mad at the girl, stopped when he didn’t hear the gun hit the floor.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at Frank, heaving a long sigh before drawing her swords and stepping into the light. “Hi. I’m Darcy. I don’t really like hurting people, so, maybe we could negotiate—“

Her words were cut short by the blue guy aiming a solid punch at her arm.

“Shit, that smarts!” she swore, her swords clattering to the ground. How long had it been since she practiced? Too long. Sif was going to beat her ass the next time they fought.

He laughed. “Go home stupid girl, I’m doing business.”

Darcy was pretty fed up at this point. Loki was lost, she was lost and stranded in the middle of Knowhere, she smelled like a sewer, and everyone was calling her stupid. She didn’t have the patience to put up with this jerk too. Darcy’s face screwed up into a bitter expression, pulling Peter Quill’s weapon from her belt as the guy turned back to the pink girl.

“Hey,” she called, making his ears twitch in annoyance. “Go do business elsewhere.”

When she fired, it wasn’t bullets that struck the man, but rather projectiles made of electricity. The nodes attached to his chest and Darcy watched in amazement as he did a little dirt dance before falling unconscious.

“Bitchin’,” she said admiringly, smiling down at the super-charged-space-taser. “I have got to get me one of these!”

“Thank you.”

Darcy’s attention was immediately drawn away from one of her new favorite toys and to the pink girl who stood with her back against the wall. She bent down to pick up her swords and stow them safely in their sheaths, petting frank on the head. “Oh, hey, no prob. That guy was a dick. Don’t follow big men from sketchy bars. Even if it is for business.”

She looked down at her feet and Darcy realized that this person was probably older than her; she was taller at least.

“I must. I have no choice,” the pink girl said, getting down to her knees and gently pulling from the unconscious man’s pocket a small black bag. It could have been a coin purse, only when the girl opened it she procured, not money, but a handful of knucklebones. She smiled a little, putting them back in the bag and slipping them into her pocket. “My name is Dajiri. I owe you my thanks. And…my protection back as well?”

Frank chose that moment to burp loudly in Darcy’s ear and she gave Dajiri a sympathetic look. “I’m really sorry. Usually he doesn’t eat metal, but he must’ve been super hungry.”

Frank opened his mouth in a very wide smile that might have been horrifying if he had teeth. He didn’t.

Nonetheless, Dajiri took a step back. “That kind of creature…I have not seen anything like it. And that is saying something, considering I work for—“ She stopped speaking abruptly, swallowing hard. “What do you want?”

Darcy frowned at her apparent fear; she wouldn’t last a second on Asgard. “I need a ship. Or some kind of flying vehicle that will get me out of the galaxy.” Dajiri’s eyes widened, but Darcy continued. “Will your employer be willing to help me?”

“Are you from out of the galaxy then?” Dajiri asked with a kind of shy eagerness. “Have you ever been to the Worlds Beyond? Terra? The golden lands?”

“Well, I sure as hell am not from around here.” Darcy told her, gesturing to her armor and Frank. “What will your employer take in exchange for what I need?”

Dajiri shook her head, eyes wide and misty. “I am not sure. He will want to discuss with you, I think. Come. I will take you to him.”

She waved for Darcy to follow her from the building and Darcy did so, keeping her hands on her swords. Once they were outside, a question made its way into her mind. “Dajiri, what’s your employer’s name?”

Dajiri hesitated a moment, contemplating whether or not to answer. Finally, she pulled her aside and speaking in a whisper.

“The collector, Taneleer Tivan.”

                                                               ***

“Dude, this has bad news written all over it.”

Loki ignored Peter Quill, steepling his fingers over his lips in thought.

They had traveled several thousand miles through the city which Loki determined was only a small portion of the Celestial’s land. Their vastness made travel inconvenient for Loki. He was working with limited time and no Darcy.

He had enough magic to take Quill, himself, and Fenrir several miles forwards at a time without trouble. However, the infinity stone was harder to track. If he took them too far forwards, Loki would lose the trace. One would think that merely sensing it would be enough, but it was not.

He needed the specific location and the power of the stone seemed to have seeped into the dusty earth of the land. It was as if the entire city was burning and he was searching for the cause of the flame. If Darcy were there, she would understand.

Even without her, Loki managed to find a more general area at which he believed the stone could be.

The very center of the Celestian city was more alive than his flesh and blood. The buildings were corpses, long since passed, crumbling to dust before his eyes. Yet each one was animated by a network of power, energy that linked their stone tissue and cracking vertebrate. A power unlike any other survived the dead streets which Loki could hardly determine for the sheer appalling size of the world.

And in this dead center, the heart with no beat thrummed with the influence of an infinity stone.

Loki could sense its presence, inlaid in the one whole building that had not fallen to a ruinous wreck overtime. He could tell why, the thing was fortified against time. It was a beast, massive construct and monstrous in demeanor. The outside walls’ glimmer was dull purple in the dusty air that clouded around them like smoke. Doors and floors comprised of shy sparkles, speckles of glittering gemstones, each dim glowing flake the length of Fenrir’s body. They stacked together, their dense appearance forming a polished slate.

Loki imagined the grand might have shined in the past, but now, its former glory was coated in a thick layer of dust and abandonment.

It was not built to be beautiful, this much Loki could tell. From a distance, he observed there were no windows, no intricacies or decoration. To the average Celestian, Loki supposed it might have appeared to be no more than a large, purple, brick shaped building.

Even so, looks weren’t everything, for while it was fairly unimpressive in design, energy radiated from it’s every cell. Condensed inside this modest monument was enough power to raze the galaxy. Peter Quill might not have been able to feel it, but Loki and Fenrir could. If Darcy and Jörmungandr were there, they would be able to sense it as well.

Loki touched the coarse wall, the tips of his fingers gathering dust from the deep violet surface. The stone seemed to tingle and with the slightest brush of his magic, it revealed a tall, rectangular door that rumbled and groaned as Loki magically pushed it open.

The darkness inside seemed to suck the air from around them, as if the nefarious construction was truly a monster that had been suffocating for an eternity. The acrid stench of the black, stale space within stank of hunger and emptiness.

Quill pulled touched the device behind his ear, an odd mask forming over his face. “Woah, hold up, Princess. You’re not going in there alone.”

Loki and Fenrir looked at one another then back at Peter Quill. Loki addressed him offhandedly. “Indeed. Fenrir shall accompany me. Stay here.”

Peter Quill grabbed Loki’s shoulder in protest. “Hey, I’m serious. This place is creepy as hell. We don’t even know what’s in there and you’re ready to go in by yourself with, what? A couple of knives? How old are you? Eighteen? Nineteen?”

“Two thousand and six,” Loki responded absently.

“You look good for your age,” Quill said, unphased. “You’re not mortal though. Your girlfriend is mortal. She can’t be any older than, what, twenty?”

“Sixteen,” Loki corrected, kneeling beside Fenrir to examine the map while Peter Quill choked on his words.

“Dude! Talk about age difference! How does that work?”

Loki traced the gibberish written in Celestian that surrounded the isolated area that represented their current location. “My people live much longer than Midgardians. I equate to her age in mortal years.”

Peter Quill scrubbed a hand over his face. “I asked a sixteen year old guy for sex tips. I need a moment to process this.”

Loki sighed exasperatedly and gave a tiny smile when Fenrir licked his nose. “You will have plenty of time to think on it. Stay here. I have warded the door, attempting to enter is pointless. If you die, it is of no consequence to me.”

Peter Quill held out his hands defensively. “Have you no conscience at all? Who the fuck says shit like that?”

Loki stood, flipping the map in his fingers, the sheet of paper turning into his daggers which he took dexterously between his fingers. “Be thankful, Star Lord, for I am the god of lies and that was a truth and a warning.”

Peter Quill grumbled to himself a few rude words as Loki faced the darkness, stepping into its shadowed depths. He considered casting a light to set the world he now walked in to a visual sense. But the smell, the acrid stench of abandonment and waste was so potent, accompanied by the lurid pull of the infinity stone, Loki decided against it. He needn’t see to know where he was going and some things were better left unseen.

Ephemeral ignorance became his for the time it took him to navigate the unknown. Fenrir stayed close to his side throughout their walk, his fur tickling Loki’s fingers as a comforting reminder that he was not alone with the mystery of the Celestials’ extinction. Their secrets awaited him in the gloom that was so dank and black that it masked even the largest of clues. Loki let them be, closing his eyes and attempting to eliminate the empty scent from his senses. Emptiness would not find Darcy.

It was incredibly daunting, to be lost in the dark, grappling with his sense of magic, clawing after a power that radiated through the room’s night.

All was well, for Loki feared not the dark. All that awaited him was a new discovery. He feared the loss of his beloved mortal and her inability to make discoveries with him. If that instance were to truly occur, deaths, that void everyone so fears, would be no stranger to him.

It was upon this revelation that Loki began to hear voices, very faint and very distant as if spoken by a tiny phantom from the days before Asgard prospered. Fenrir whined as more joined in, the whispers of invisible ghosts filling their ears with the shrill, ancient sound of melancholy and the quiet retelling of the Celestian downfall.

Their words melded together like light. Colors indecipherable to even him reigned as ghosts in the blackness, gathering their fleets to fight against the dark cover that kept him ignorant of their truths.

He was the neutral party.

Loki could feel long dormant magic stirring around him, ancient powers rising up from the ground and screaming at him in their hushed tones.

But he made no effort to decipher their words nor their endeavors to capture his attention. He ignored that, extending his magic past that residual power of the Celestials. They were close now; the infinity stone was near enough that he could taste it.

It was power. Pure, untainted power. It was magic of its own breed, like the Aether was. But this one was unique. From it, Loki sensed no immediate malcontent. It was not a parasite and it was not as intelligent. If anything, it reminded him a little of Thor. Powerful, enthusiastic, and violent. It did not have the desires of the Aether, it did not want a subject of which to cling to.

Loki could only determine that it wanted to be free. It wanted to be used, to be placed on a pedestal and let its essence radiate over the universe.

The stone was purple blood in the dark waters where Loki and Fenrir prowled.

The distance between them and the infinity stone was still so great that at the rate he and Fenrir were moving, they would not reach it for another several hours. Before, in crossing through the city and outside terrain, Loki magically transported himself, Peter Quill, and Fenrir over what could have taken months to cover. It would be simple for Loki to take them directly to the stone, but he hesitated.

The whispers had quieted, yet the magic remained. The unknown was a trick Loki had not yet mastered. What awaited in it, and beyond it, was a mystery.

Death was nothing to fear. At least not yet, he’d been given no reason to fear it.

But Darcy could still be alive and the dead and the living never met.

As long as there was hope that Darcy Lewis was breathing, he would not die; he would always have breath for her to take away.

With every bit of conviction in his body, Loki gripped his dagger, summoning forth his magic to take him and Fenrir as close to the stone as he dared.

They appeared again in the same pitch black they’d been strolling through before, only now the stone was nearer.

In fact, Loki had brought them right before the stone. He could sense it. But he could not reach it. The emptiness had stretched to all of his senses. He could not taste the dust in the air or smell the starving belly or this monstrous building. He could not feel the chill or see his own hand in front of his face.

He sighed, resolving his previous decision to remain free of the answer to the Celestial’s extinction. Let him see what he must to get Darcy back.

Determinedly, he cast a light over his head, the bright, golden glow rising his above his head and, for the first time, illuminating the dark cavern in which the Celestial’s had hidden one of the infinity stones.

What the light revealed to him, he had been unprepared for.

Lain before him, with its arms extended and body strewn was the petrified corpse of a Celestial.

Loki gazed upon it in awe, wishing his eyes were large enough to see the entire body, for its head alone could have housed an entire city. Its skin was gray, its massive arms stretched out on either side of his path. One hand was clenched into a fist so tightly, Loki wondered if the Celestian had been clinging to life when it had died.

The face looked neither feminine nor masculine, though it was wrinkled and was fairly humanoid. Lanky, gray, dust filled hair clumped atop its head and it appeared to be clothed in what remained of what was probably once majestic, empowering armor. Its chin rested on the stone ground, its colossal face angled to a raised platform not three paces from where Loki stood.

He took a step forwards, causing Fenrir to give an objecting whine. Loki rubbed his ears reassuringly. “Be at peace, Fenrir. We must find Darcy and Jörmungandr. Do not fret, all is well.”

At his comforting words, Fenrir relaxed, though still stayed close to Loki’s side as if glued there. Loki stowed his dagger, cautiously approaching the pedestal, the orb of golden light hovering over his head like a  beacon of hope. Its long tendrils of gold danced across the pedestal that looked as though it had been built for a being his size rather than that of a Celestial.

Without halting to reconsider his options, Loki stepped onto the platform, widening his stance to stand face to face with the corpse.

Or so he thought.

Suddenly, the world seemed to shift as Loki’s vision of reality morphed into something entirely different.

The Celestian before him began to move as if Loki standing on the platform had awoken it from some great slumber. Its prodigious face squirmed, clumps of dust the size of Loki’s longship falling in chunks from its cheeks and nose, a series of sand storms spinning into existence with the rapid batting of its inordinate lashes.

Loki’s heart raced as he stared, open mouthed at the awakening of a legend. A living mystery, a spark of life left alone in this abandoned, secluded sector of the universe.

No…not abandoned…hidden. This being gasping for air before him was a secret, protected by a portal of impossible measure and a crumbling maze of a city.

Loki had reached the center and had found, like any maze, his passage out of the puzzle.

The Celestian coughed and sputtered and Loki considered conjuring it an extremely large glass of water. Gods knew how long they’d been asleep. Waiting for some lost soul to step onto the pedestal. The force of their breaths was enough to blow him away, but he held his ground, magically securing himself and Fenrir to the floor and willing himself to endure the wretched stench of age that came with this decrepit creature.

Finally, it lifted its head from the ground, its large golden eyes that outshone Loki’s orb of light coming to rest urgently on Loki’s defensively poised figure. When it blinked, the room darkened. Comparing his orb to their golden globes would have been like comparing a candle flame to a sun.

It gasped, drawing its tremendous arms towards its body, the motion causing the earth under Loki’s feet to shake and vibrate. Even so, he held his stance as the Celestial closed in on him, great gray lips parted in disbelief.

“Unbelievable,” The Celestial said, its voice low and ancient. Loki could feel the individual thrum of its vocal chords in his soul, the ancient language registering in his mind immediately.

Loki squared his shoulders, lifting his chin to the primordial being. “The impossible does not believe in disbelief.”

The Celestial nodded its massive head, eyes unmoving from Loki. “The prophecy…a disguised man…a liar…a prince of two lands…”

Loki leaned forwards, battling the wind of the Celestial’s cold breath. “A riddle speaks you in mastered time.”

The Celestial did not acknowledge his words, continuing to speak on in frantic exigency, the fingers of its one hand cracking the solid dirt of the ground.

“Born again by mother’s blood, a liar with love for the law …falling, falling, dropped by raven’s claw.

The mad…the mad grows his madness, break his chest and fill it with wretchedness, freed only by death’s sadness.

Set free your beasts, the end of all ends be it the case, Chaos holds soul, power, reality, mind, time and space, save the living race.

Might will fight and Might might fall, thunder’s clash save them all.

Queens and Mothers win the war, carry love worth fighting for.

To the little one, seek and seek. Promise to you, he will not be weak.”

The Celestial ended its prophecy with a rough cough and a steady glare on Loki’s face. It trembled and Loki held out his hands, silently asking if he could help. The Celestial only blinked its massive eyes, sending Loki into darkness for a terrifying second.

“A Trickster is not a fool and cannot fool power. Take it…take it…TAKE IT!” The Celestial shouted at him, and Loki feared his ears may be perpetually damaged.

He looked to the Celestial, prepared to tell it that he did not know what he was supposed to be taking when it raised its enormous fist in the air, the one that had been clenched so tightly, and opened it far above Loki’s head.

From its gray and ancient palm fell a textured metallic sphere that Loki caught in his waiting hand. He evaluated the object inquisitively under the expectant glare of the Celestial. “Open, be it so.”

Loki lightly traced his fingers over the device, not even needing his magic to find the weak points on its surface and sliding the different panels apart. It was a puzzle, easily solved with a light hand and deft fingers. With a final twist, the sides of the sphere came apart to reveal the object of his miseries and his reason for other-worldly excursions.

The Power Stone.

It was purple and it hummed with the same violent enthusiasm he’d felt before. But unlike his encounter with the Aether, he was strong enough to handle it. The power did not overwhelm him and he found that he could close his bare hand around the stone, feeling its awe-inspiring force, without being subject to its aggressive demands.

The Celestial grinned, its mouth physically cracking in two.

It was a horrific sight to witness the final decay of something so old and to hear their last words as it fell into nonexistence. “Behold, The Insignificant savior, bring glory to those who wear it better. Behold, The Shadow.”

Loki took a step back, his fingers brushing over Fenrir’s back as the Celestial crumbled. Great, gray arms blew to dust and its face fell apart in chunks. Loki extinguished his light as the Celestian shut its big golden eyes for the last time.

With a quick wave of his hands, he stowed the stone and its container in a dimensional pocket of space, a quick trick he learned a while back, and ran from the cloud of dust. It was when he heard the tell-tale grumble of the building that now verged on collapse, did he use his magic to take him and Fenrir to the site of their crash, stopping for only a second to grab Peter Quill.

Loki should have felt drained from the amount of magic he was using, but he was not. He repaired Peter Quill’s ship with a few distracted flicks of his fingers as he watched the portal in the sky deteriorate and the ground around them disintegrate.

Peter Quill swore as they boarded his ship and Loki pointed at the newly recreated cockpit. “Get us out of here Star-Lord.”

“Yes sir, Your Highness,” Quill said with a surprising amount of sincerity. He took off just in time for the ground under the Milano to fall to ruin and Loki realized that the Power stone had truly been the only thing keeping this land together.

It was a melancholy thought, but Loki could hardly be troubled with that. His thoughts remained, as they usually did, on Darcy. She was somewhere in the Galaxy…alive. He could feel it in his bones.

He would find her, no matter the cost.

                                                               ***

Taneleer Tivan was a hoarder. Darcy knew that much for sure.

Dajiri had led her through a maze of crowded shanties, old industrial equipment, and toxic pools of some yellow-green waste. By the time they reached the entrance to her employer’s digs, Darcy was panting from exertion. Loki was Asgardian. He had no trouble with wearing forty pounds of leather everywhere he went. He managed to make it look hot.

Darcy wasn’t so good. Her feet were killing her before they made it to Mr. Tivan’s little hoarder corner of the universe.

Dajiri had led her inside and to the strangest, most inhumane kind of collection she’d ever seen in her life.

Glass cells, thousands…millions of them, of all shapes and sizes, lined the walls. They hung from the ceiling and scattered the floors in a crude rainbow of foggy cages. It was chaotic, disorderly, and, quite frankly, horrifying. For the boxes were not just of odd shaped boulders and rare plants.

The cases contained creatures. Living ones. Humanoid figures and golden retrievers in space suits, half-dead and sedated sentient beings locked behind glass walls. Dajiri didn’t give them a second glance, her little white skirt stiff as ever it was as she made her way through the many jailed creatures.

Darcy shivered as they passed a tank holding a gigantic, docile looking fish. It didn’t look like it was from Earth, it was too large. But it didn’t belong here either. It’s forehead bumped against the glass and Darcy could see a large sore there, infected in the filthy water. Large, grey scales, not ones Darcy would ever describe as beautiful, had spots of green mold growing around them.

Frank buried his face in her hair, blocking the horrendous view from his sight. Darcy didn’t blame him.

Dajiri stopped them before one of the large desks, littered with contraptions Darcy couldn’t even begin to recognize. Loki would know what they were. That or he would start toying with them without permission. She gracefully opened her arms, gesturing to a white fur clad figure looming behind the counter.

“I present to you, Taneleer Tivan, the Collector.”

Darcy didn’t like Taneleer Tivan from the moment she realized what kind of work he was sending his employees to do with such little protection. And after seeing his ‘collection’ she knew that they were going to have problems. But he was also her only way out.

Tivan turned on his heel, allowing Darcy to get a decent look at his face. Crazed, white hair, a confident gait and wide, passive eyes.

Before greeting Darcy he looked to Dajiri. “Did you apprehend the item?”

Immediately, the girl procured the amulet from her pocket, handing it to him quickly. “Yes, sir.”

Taneleer Tivan took it, slowly turning the item over in his hands. From the top of his head he pulled down a pair of odd glasses which he used to inspect the artifact. With a small, disappointed sigh, he dropped the amulet. “It is a fake. A falsehood. I am…” he hesitated, his words clipped and well annunciated. “Displeased.”

Dajiri seemed panicked. “I…I didn’t know, sir.’

“Only because you are a stupid girl. A dull mistake such as this demands…punishment,” he said just as plainly and impassively as he had everything else.

“Sir—“ Dajiri protested but Tivan spoke over her.

“Do not resist, girl. Go. I shall deal with you later.” He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and she ducked her head, shooting Darcy a nervous glance.

As she left, Darcy was forced to bring all of her attention onto Taneleer. Oh, she wanted to say something to him, she wanted to berate his actions like she had any semblance of power in this galaxy. She didn’t. Tivan, however, had enough power to keep people in big glass containers inside his house. Darcy figured she ought to tread carefully.

“Mr. Tivan,” Darcy greeted cheerily. “Quite the collection you have here.”

He studied her with what she could assume was curiosity, for his face was so void of emotion. “Indeed. Though I believe I am at a disadvantage. You know my name, yet I do not know yours, mortal.”

“Mortal?” Darcy smiled, successfully masking the true fear pounding away in her chest. Did he have any human girls locked away in these fun cages? “What gave me away? The charming personality?”

Taneleer Tivan’s lips quirked just slightly and Darcy hoped that wasn’t a ‘I’m-internally-plotting-how-to-make-you-part-of-my-zoo-right-now’ smirk. “I have studied many species. Yours is very particular. Although you are not dressed as a mortal… “he trailed off, meeting Darcy’s eyes for a long, scary moment. “Tell me your name. You shall find that I do not like to be kept waiting.”

Darcy’s fear was momentarily pushed aside in favor of irritation. She dealt with assholes like Tivan on a daily basis. The ones who cared about themselves and treated others like dirt because they believed themselves to be more powerful. Darcy crossed her arms, Frank coiling around her shoulder threateningly. “I am Darcy. Darcy Lewis. And, if you don’t mind, Mr. Tivan, I’d like to skip the chit-chat. I’m on a bit of a tight schedule.”

Tivan considered her for a moment, perhaps with a bit of humor. He was distracted in a mere second by Frank’s black and green body. “What…an odd animal. Of what species is it? What is your price for such a pet?”

Darcy stroked her pet’s head, calming his shakes at the approach of Taneleer Tivan. Frank and Fenrir were easily scared, but they were also ferocious if need be. Frank was frightened, but he wouldn’t let any harm come to them.

“Priceless,” Darcy said conversationally, bringing Tivan from his fascinated state. “He isn’t for sale.”

Tivan raised his brows in speculation. “Isn’t he? It is not often that Dajiri drags in scum from the street in search of a deal with her employer. I only rarely allow them entrance without adding them to my collection. Bear in mind, Darcy Lewis, you have yet to leave here whole. It is odd to see a mortal so far away from their home planet.  What is it you want from a collector?”

Darcy crossed her arms, throwing one hip to the side. “Transportation. I need a ship that will get me as far across the galaxy as I can get.”

Tivan offered her a gnarled, pitiful excuse for a grin and chuckled darkly. “Mortals truly are as dull as they say.  I am a collector, girl. I have not what you seek. And you have nothing to trade that I desire.”

Darcy began to panic, her eyes searching the area around her for a sign, some indication that she was worth his time. She knew things about the universe, but she didn’t know how much of that she wanted Tivan to know, and there was no way to tell how she would believe her claims without a substantial amount of proof.

Tivan turned away, probably preparing some fun henchmen to come and lock her up, when her gaze landed upon a container to her left, suspended in the air by a series of thick cables. Inside rested an absolutely enormous…no, gargantuan stone sign. It was so large that Darcy had to step back to recognize that the words, were in fact, Celestian.

Impulsively, Darcy read the words aloud before stating the rough, English translation. “’Death fears none but one, and they are not part of the Beyond.’”

Taneleer Tivan froze where he stood and a chill shot down Darcy’s spine. In a second she knew that she was going to regret her translation. “What did you just say?”

Darcy squared her shoulders, tilting her chin upwards and drowning out the wretched sounds of the imprisoned. “What do you think I said, wise one?”

Tivan advanced on her, excitement smoldering in his sick, black lined eyes. He looked sick, a man without energy, powered by nothing but his need for more things in his collection. He grabbed Darcy’s hands with a dull kind of urgency that chilled Darcy to her very core. “You speak their language? You understand it?”

Darcy swallowed hard, feeling Frank tense around her. “I can speak a lot of different languages. Right now, I’m learning how to speak yours.” She yanked her hands out of his, and taking a step back so she didn’t feel so little standing in front of him. “I need to get outside the galaxy. What can I give you in exchange for a way out?”

Tivan’s smile was a cold little thing, with no heart and wicked delight. “Your mind should suffice.”

Darcy’s eyes widened in shock as she found herself being detained. Pink hands grabbed her arms, binding her wrists behind her back with a force that just screamed ‘betrayal’. Darcy swore, her body groaning in disapproval at the rough treatment of being tossed around by people bigger than her. “Ow!  Jesus! That escalated too damn fast. I just offered to trade information for transportation. Why the fuck are you tying me to a chair?!”

Tivan pursed his lips, studying her with steepled fingers. “You offered an exchange, human. Understand that if we are going to make a bargain, it will be weighted in my favor.”

Darcy’s heart hammered in her chest and her palms were sweating like crazy, but still she kept her voice. If only Loki were there. Frank made a noise but she hushed him, giving him a stern look, telling him to keep calm. Eating Taneleer Tivan was a last resort. “Right. I got that. I still don’t get why I need to be tied up. Not unless you’re intending to back out on trading me transportation for my knowledge. That’d be a dick move.”

Tivan kept his emotionless gaze on her, his white fur coat matching his hair exactly. “Quite the contrary. I am keeping you like this for insurance.”

“Insurance?” Darcy repeated, tugging on her confines. “Handcuffs are the new Geico? No offense man, but I like the little lizard guy as a spokesperson more than I like you.”

He ignored her. “This way suits me. It ensures the truth.”

Darcy squinted at him, wishing she had her glasses. “Uh-huh.” She clicked her tongue thoughtfully for a moment. “Right. So, you presume that because you tie me up in a chair, I’m going to tell you the truth. Assuming that I even talk to you in the first place.”

“You talk too much,” Tivan said after a moment of his cold, fixated glare boring into her. “I was hoping to persuade you into speaking if you did not wish to answer my questions. Would you like to know what they are?”

Darcy swallowed hard. “You mean like a verbal explanation? Or a demonstration? Because—“ Her words were cut short by a sharp hot pain that shot through her body like a bolt of lightning.

Now, Darcy had spent a lot of long nights with Grace watching action movies where the cool badass protagonist gets tied to a chair and tortured. They sweat and groan, shaking off the pain easily enough.

Darcy wasn’t one of those guys. She screamed and swore and protested when she felt Frank go slack on her shoulder. “Frank!” she called out to her pet.

Darcy’s vision returned and she saw Dajiri holding a device similar to that of Peter Quill’s super charged taser that she had belted to her side. Except it was bigger…a lot bigger. And Darcy was sure that’s what was hurting her. Her heart burned with a sense of betrayal as Dajiri aimed the weapon at her again, refusing to make eye contact.

“How unfortunate. It isn’t tolerant to other worldly elixirs, is it?” Tivan answered her screams with a low drawl and Darcy fought uselessly against her cuffs as he picked up her unconscious serpent from the ground. He hauled Frank into a large glass container after placing an empty vial on a cluttered counter.

“Don’t!” Darcy pleaded, tears coming to her eyes. “Jesus, you’re such an asshole. I’m the fucking protagonist of this story, so just keep in mind, that the more you hurt me, the worse this is going to be for you in the end. Capuche?”

He didn’t respond, instead choosing to walk a large circle around her, inspecting her sorry state with an air of faux pity. “I will ask you questions, Darcy Lewis. Answer them truthfully and you will have your freedom and perhaps enough units to purchase transportation. If not, then I either kill you, or you can become part of my collection. Are we understood?”

Darcy made a sound of protest, struggling against her binds again, “I guess that all depends on the question, doesn’t it? You big, slimy, sleazy, buttnugget, knucklehead, jackass motherfu—“

Again she was struck with a full blast of the electricity and again she screamed, her eyes watering and her back arching in pure agony. When the sensation ended, her body gave an involuntary twitch, her heart beating sporadically.

“…motherfucker.” She finished weakly, meeting his eyes in a challenge.

He smirked, folding his hands behind his back as he looked down at her. “Where did you learn to speak Celestian?”

Darcy blinked sweat and tears out of her eyes, the weight of her armor painful on her skin. “My friend and I… we taught ourselves.”

Tivan motioned with his gloved hand for Dajiri to place the device against Darcy’s temple. Darcy looked to the girl pleadingly and she turned away quickly as if pained by the thought of hurting her again. Darcy wondered what was keeping her under Tivan’s employment.

“How?” he asked her calmly.

Darcy frowned, thinking back. Her memories were blurred by the passing of time, but she remembered. “A book of notes, phrases, copied from Celestian texts. None of it was translated to my native tongue.”

He narrowed his eyes and waved for Dajiri to lower the weapon. Both ladies sighed in relief. “You are a mortal.”

“Duh.”

“How did you come across such a book?”

Darcy shot a quick glance at the cage Frank inhabited, making sure he was still breathing. He seemed to be. “My best friend is a magic space prince that comes to visit me from a magic rainbow portal under my bed. His daddy has a lot of fun books.”

The pain was stronger this time and her screams were louder. When it didn’t end after a few seconds, she thought it would kill her. She believed the end was near and she shouted the only name that seemed to mean anything to her in that fit of pain. “Loki!”

Instantly, the torture ceased and Darcy gasped for air, trembling and sobbing in her chair. She looked up at Tivan with a gaze full of hate. He wasn’t even looking. “Loki…Ah. Forgive me, you were being honest. I do remember a certain ten years ago or so I recovered information regarding the Other Galaxy. Your friend is a prince. As interesting as it would be to know how a human came to befriend such a powerful being, I have other questions. Can you tell me what these are?”

He faced her, holding out what looked like a screen of sorts, but Darcy couldn’t see it from that far away.

Darcy shook her head, whimpering when the torture device touched her temple. “Wait. I-I might. I can’t see it from that far away.”

Tivan raised his brows at her and Darcy looked up at him pleadingly. “I have impaired eyesight. Dude, your face is a blur right now. It’s a common problem amongst we mortals.”

Thankfully, Tivan complied and stepped forwards and Darcy stifled a gasp when he presented her with the galaxy equivalent of a computer generated image of what seemed to be the infinity stones. Darcy shook her head once. “I…I don’t know.”

Tivan eyed her passively for a moment before waving to Dajiri again.

Darcy braced herself for the oncoming pain, but none came.

Taneleer Tivan turned his gaze upon his slave who shifted uncomfortably in place. “Is there a problem, Dajiri?”

The girl gave Darcy a nervous glance. “She is a human.”

“Indeed,” Tivan agreed.

Dajiri turned the weapon in hand. “Too much more could kill her, Sir, and she—“

“She. What,” he interrupted, each of his quiet, dull words sharper than a knife.

The pink girl’s pretty wide eyes met hers. “She saved me. She should not die.”

Darcy suddenly felt a great deal of gratitude towards Dajiri. She was about to say ‘thank you’ when Tivan tapped his fingers together slowly. “An endearing opinion. However, it is not your decision whether she lives or dies. She is lying,” he nodded to Darcy. “Strike her again or I shall remind you of what the implications of being indebted to Taneleer Tivan truly mean.”

Dajiri looked down at Darcy with wide, fearful, apologetic eyes. “I am sorry.”

Darcy sighed in irritation. “Yeah. An apology totally makes up for all of—“

Pain should never be so painful. It hurt so bad that she cried. Death was near. It quickened her heart and tensed her muscles. It brought back memories of her childhood that she had almost forgotten about.

Loki was in her mind like a wildfire, catching onto every working cell and burning her insides with memory of him. It hurt to think, that she would never see him again and she would die because of a childhood infatuation with magic space rocks.

But before she could scream away the last remnants of her life, the torture ended and she saw something.

Just over Taneleer Tivan’s shoulder, behind Frank’s cage, she saw one of his many boxes and inside of it was a galaxy.

Blackness imbedded with moving shine and elegant curves bent and thrashed inside, banging at the glass walls, the sound drowning out the last echoes of Darcy’s screams. It wasn’t until the great head of this creature turned to her, face full of worry, that she recognized her.

Darcy chuckled feebly, her vision blurring in and out. “Astrid,” she whispered, almost intelligibly to herself. “The Pride of Muspelheim, subject to the collector…a true disgrace.”

Tivan grabbed her face, tilting her head so that she was forced to look at him. “You recognize that one as well?”

Darcy tried to gather enough saliva in her mouth to spit on him, but her tongue felt too weak to even do that. A salty mixture of blood and saliva dribbled from her lips as she answered him saucily. She only got one chance to die, and she wasn’t going down like a weenie. She was Darcy fucking Lewis. “I’ll never talk. Have fun being clueless, Tivan. Once I’m dead…you’ll get curiouser and curiouser.”

The Collector removed a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the blood from her chin tenderly. “You are mistaken, Darcy Lewis. There are ways to make the dead talk. Your mind is not useless to me once your heart has stopped beating. Although it will be disappointing if there isn’t everything I want inside your head. That being said, Darcy Lewis, tell me…” He began gently pushing sweaty strands of hair off her face. “…where can I find your prince?”

Darcy grit her teeth resolutely. Now she was in a fix. The purpose of her death was to keep Loki and the universe safe. But if Taneleer Tivan could pry her thoughts straight from her cold, dead lips, dying wouldn’t save anything. But what more could she do?

“You can’t,” Darcy told him, tears leaking from her eyes. “You won’t. Not on my life. I swear it.”

“Your life…” Taneleer Tivan mocked in quiet humor. “How quaint. I will enjoy adding your knowledge to my collection, Darcy Lewis.”

Darcy tried with all her might for one final hurrah, to yank her way free of her cuffs and escape. But it was no use. Her limbs were too limp and they refused to accept the power of her will. Finally, she gave in, prepared to die a failure. The universe and Loki would be subject to the cruel hand of the Collector. Her parents would never know where she’d gone and Culver would go on without her.

And Loki would be lonely. He would miss her. The last thing she wanted to do was leave him alone without her company and without her love. He would be in pain. She knew he would be, because if he were to die, she would never cease to mourn him.

He would never know that she was in love with him.

Before, with the uncertainties between them, the pressuring societal expectations on Asgard and even the insecurity she felt towards her mortality at times, she had not been able to admit it, even to herself. But now, on the brink of death, she had nothing to lose in giving in to sweet, unexplainable sentiment.

She was going to leave him, and she was powerless to stop her departure.

Tears streaked down her face and she sat back in her chair, watching the blurs of glass cages spin. “I’m sorry, Loki,” she sobbed, waiting for the hot, white agony of her death. “I love you.”

She heard Dajiri move and flinched, expecting her blow.

But it never came.

Instead she heard the fleshy sound of metal against flesh and she opened her eyes to see Dajiri standing over the unconscious body of Taneleer Tivan. She was shaking, but she hurried to Darcy’s side nonetheless, freeing her of her confines.

“Darcy, I’m so sorry. I will never earn your forgiveness,” she said, catching her weak mortal form as she fell from the stiff backed chair.

“Well,” Darcy said faintly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

Dajiri quickly led them to one of the many work desks, rifling through the drawers in earnest. “We will find you enough units to purchase a ship and you will find your friend.” She paused to look at Darcy, cheeks damp with tears. “I…I wish I still had someone I loved so much.”

“Believe me when I say,” Darcy said, working up enough strength to stand properly. “It’s not as great as it sounds.” Finally she stood, stumbling to Frank’s cage. It was low enough to the ground that she could reach in and touch him, but she didn’t have enough energy to lift him.  “How do I wake him up?”

Dajiri hurried to her side with a small contraption. She held it over him, silver mist dusting over his scaly body. Slowly, he perked up, head thrashing back and forth wildly before his gaze fell upon Darcy. He slithered around her body, licking the salty tears and sweat from her face. “We’re okay, Frank. We’re okay.”

Dajiri smiled meekly. “Come. I will get you those units.”

She went back to the desks, jumping when a loud ‘bang’ sounded through the room.

Darcy turned her attention to Astrid’s cage, tripping over her feet to get there. Frank made excited sounds and the majestic beast within growled and clawed at the glass, trying to reach her. “Dajiri. I need her.”

The pink girl timidly hurried to Darcy’s side as she was in danger of collapse. “I have never seen it…her…act so enthusiastically before. Ever since Taneleer found her, she only ever sleeps, hardly eating even. It was sad.”

Darcy touched the glass. “Free her, please. She can help me find Loki faster than any ship or map.”

Dajiri hesitated for a moment before pressing all five of her fingertips to a metallic panel on the side of the case, followed by typing in a long number code and a voice recognition code. “I am not supposed to have access to any of the cages, but I reconfigured them one day...while Taneleer was asleep.”

With a final pull of a lever, the front panel of the cage fell away, crashing onto the ground and shattering into a million fractals. From the depths stepped Darcy’s beloved galaxy dragon.

And gods had she grown.

The smallish creature, fresh born and alone that had flown her and Loki from Muspelheim was no longer a mere babe. She towered over Darcy, her black eyes alight with warm recognition and body poised with the glorious liberation of a goddess, free from her ties. She reared her head and shot to the skies a blazing hot stream of white fire that shined as bright as the stars Darcy would live to see again.

The metal ceiling melted under the heat of her breath and the glass on the ground turned back to its natural sandy element under the force of her stance.

Astrid, in all her magnificence, bent down for Darcy to mount her back. With Dajiri’s help, she managed to cling to her precious friend’s back, Frank making excited sounds at her side.

“Will you be alright?” Darcy asked the girl, worry clinching her chest.

Dajiri shook her head with a sad smile. “I will suffer the consequences. But do not be disheartened, Darcy Lewis. Even in one of these cages, I will be freer than I have been in a very long time. Go. Find your friend. He is lucky to have you.”

Darcy nodded. “I will.”

With these as her final parting words, Astrid spread her great black wings that glistened like the light of the stars, breaking several of Taneleer Tivan’s cages in the process, and took wondrous flight.

Darcy clung on for dear life, a solitary thought on her mind: She was going to find Loki, and when she did, she was going to tie him to her bed (platonically) and he wouldn’t be allowed to leave.

And they were never going after another infinity stone ever again.

                                                               ***

Gamora walked in even stance behind Nebula as they boarded their ship. Thanos, her ‘father’, had informed them that there had been a definite shift in the universe and the state of the galaxy. He told them, that an ancient power had been stirred and that he needed them to find its carrier.

He spoke vaguely and Gamora was unsure of his intentions. However, she did know this; if Thanos wanted something as badly as he seemed to want this, she must do everything in her power to keep it out of his hands.

She had asked him to be in charge of the mission, he chuckled, reminding her that she was his favorite daughter, but she was still not ready.

Nebula would lead them in their expedition. They were to go out in search of all Ravager ships, for thieves were always the first to check for lost and valuable items.

Gamora accepted this without question, arming herself for battle. Whatever power awaited, she would steal it and hide it far away where none would ever see it again.

She would do anything to spite Thanos and stop his wrongdoings.

                                                               ***

Loki watched as Peter Quill flew them through space, magically reaching out in all directions in search of Darcy.

Blissful silence had overtaken the ship as they traveled through a passage that included a lot of small moon-like planets, each one large enough for a few large ships to land on. Peter Quill navigated through them, leaving Loki to think through everything that had happened.

If there was one thing he gathered from his experience, it was that he must find all of the infinity stones. He must. They were too dangerous, too powerful to be unguarded. Perhaps this was his mother’s intention, for him to protect the universe from the power of the stones.

He figured it was well enough protected in the dimensional pocket he’d tucked it away in. Peter Quill mustn’t know about its existence. He was a thief and the stone was powerful and priceless.

Loki would have liked to believe that he was a protector, a guard for the universe’s most potent entities. But he knew that the truth was much graver and much more unsatisfying.  The Celestian prophecy kept replaying in his head, over and over. Its last words, that final breath of dusty air had told him that he was a shadow. Shadows were not heroes. They did not rescue galaxies and they did not have their names written in the history books.

Loki clenched his fists. He need not be a hero. He did not need power and glory. He only wanted Darcy back. That would be enough.

“Hey, Loki, can you give me a bit more instruction on where the hell we’re going? I wanna help you man, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve got fun outlaw things to do and you and your girlfriend kinda hijacked my ship,” Peter Quill said over his shoulder, pausing a moment to consider his situation. “Shit, I have Stockholm Syndrome don’t I?”

Loki rolled his eyes, sitting beside Quill in the co-pilot’s chair. “Perhaps. I would not consider it too deeply. As soon as I have found Darcy, we shall find our own means to exit the galaxy.”

Quill nodded. “Sounds fair. So where am I going again? I think we should start…” he trailed off distractedly as he caught sight of a green skinned woman in black leather body armor standing beside a ship. From a distance, she appeared to be checking her pockets, but upon further inspection, Loki saw that she was doing a count of her weapons.

She looked up at Peter Quill’s ship, waving hopefully. The way she stood, with her hip against her ship and an internal strap of her armor hanging off one shoulder, she appeared quite alluring. Loki immediately did not trust her.

“Quill—“

“We should help her.”

“Quill, I need to find Darcy.”

“Why? So you can yell at each other some more and not get laid? Hey man, I’ve had a rough afternoon. One of us has got to get it today.” Peter Quill defended his case, promptly angling the ship downwards and landing beside the woman’s ship.

Loki sighed in defeat, readying his daggers, just in case. Upon landing, Quill quickly got up from his chair, running a hand through his hair and cracking his knuckles before pressing a few buttons on the console to open the side of his ship.

Loki watched in good-natured humor at the valiant, dumb Star-Lord who had no sooner opened the door of his ship than a slim, black leather boot hit him in the head. Quill landed face-down on the ground and the green woman stepped over him curiously, pulling up the strap on her shoulder, righting her armor.

“He’s a human,” Loki explained for his fallen companion, leaning against a paneled wall, Fenrir posed defensively at his side. “They are easily broken.”

The woman smirked and Loki acknowledged that the weapons she had been checking earlier were no more than a single knife. It was then, in her presence, watching her move stealthily towards him, slinking like a ferocious Midgardian jungle cat, that he realized she had no need for guns and knives. She was a weapon, body, mind, and all.

In response to this acknowledgement, Loki dropped his daggers, letting them magically dissipate before clattering to the ground.

The woman watched, her stance shifting from that of a primal predator to someone with the will to negotiate. “I have no reason to fight you, if you give me what I need.”

Loki raised his brows, splaying his hands in an open gesture. “Name it, milady. You have already incapacitated the outlaw, what could you ask of his traveling companion?”

She narrowed her eyes skeptically, taking long, measured strides around the ship’s cockpit. “I am in search of something ancient and powerful, something a ravager would kill to get his hands on.”

Suddenly, a knife was at his throat and his body ached to retaliate with a threat of his own. Loki never truly craved a fight, but he was Asgardian and after half of a year of training with Thor, he wanted to exercise his ability in combat. He must take care of this woman before he could return to finding Darcy.

The woman’s lips were at his ear as the blade bit the skin of his neck. “Tell me if you’ve seen anything, or I’ll kill you where you stand. Your death is of no consequence to me.”

Loki chuckled darkly, deciding that he wasn’t going to use magic, at least not for a while. He was going to have fun first. “I know.”

Her arm tensed, prepared to slit his throat, but Loki ducked out of her grasp just in time, twisting her wrist so she dropped the knife. She righted her stance immediately, her eyes raking over Loki, analyzing his next move.

When he didn’t, she lashed out, aiming a blow at his face, but Loki dodged it just in time. She tried again with her other fist and he dodged it as well as they walked circles around one another, anticipating the other’s speed and methods of attacking.

And then they were battling. She kicked at his knees and he deflected her attacks, in awe of her speed. Fighting with Thor, as he normally did, required that he be the quick one, the one to duck under heavy-armed blows and strong hammer attacks.

He could tell in fighting this woman that she was also accustomed to this kind of style as her offensive movements were more hesitant. It was only when Loki lashed out, twisting her arm in order to keep her elbow out of his nose, and she successfully managed to bash her head against his, sending him out of Peter Quill’s ship onto the dirt outside.

He rubbed his head appreciatively, thinking that this woman hit almost as hard as Thor. In the next second, he was standing up, ducking under the fierce swing of her knife.

They fought like Loki had never fought before. She was after the power stone and Loki, possessor of the artifact, could not let her have it. She was deadly, an assassin, and she was targeting ravager ships, killing their pilots to find it. Loki knew there were more people like her, powerful individuals who knew of the infinity stones, and he could not let them take forces they could never hope to control. It was dangerous.

In defense of the universe, Loki decided the woman must die. While he enjoyed their small battle as a sport, he was reluctant for it to become anything more. But, even though he did not like the idea of killing her, he found, as he had on Jotunheim in violently murdering Thrymr, that her death would not weigh on his conscious; it was of no consequence to him.

So, he fought to kill, shifting his tactic from defensive to offensive. He conjured her daggers and took the woman’s moment of shock to take a jab at her neck. She diverted his endeavor and their fight went on.

Loki didn’t tire and every strike she managed to land on him did little to slow him down and the same went for her. Their styles were so similar and their stamina so well matched that Loki wondered if there would ever be an end.

“This is an odd day for me,” Loki commented as she narrowly escaped the sly attack of one of his blades, a strand of her pink hair sweeping across his face.

“Is it?” she asked, landing a kick in the center of his chest. Instead of stumbling, he wrapped a hand around her ankle, twisting it in a way that should have shattered every bone in her foot. But her body moved with his efforts as she brought her other boot up to smack him in the face.

“Yes,” he answered, flicking a dagger past her ear as a distraction before attempting to shove another between her ribs. He failed and found himself having to knock a blade away from his jugular. “On any other day, you would already be dead.”

“On any other day,” the woman said, the back of her hand lashing out to slap him across the face, “so would you.”

He brought his heel down on the arch of her foot and in return she broke his nose, quickly and most indelicately kneeing his manhood. He groaned, eyes watering. “Well aimed.”

“Practice,” she said, almost pleasantly, slapping him across the other cheek just as his vision has begun to return.

“I never would have guessed,” Loki returned quick enough, countering her abuse with a blunt blow to her side. “I am Loki, by the way.”

Her lips curled back over her teeth as she bit back a yelp of pain. “Gamora,” she panted as he took her into a headlock. “I am sorry to have met you like this.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe,” he told her thoughtfully as she bit down on his palm hard enough to draw blood. He conjured another dagger, bringing it to her throat, ignoring her teeth on his skin. Somewhere outside their fight, Loki thought he saw the descent of a dark ship onto their moon. Or perhaps it was just a shadow.

Gamora made a near beastly growl that Loki found incredibly attractive. “You are a skilled opponent. Killing you is a victory I will remember.”

“Likewise,” he said smartly, but before he could slit her throat as he intended, she threw him over her shoulder as if he weighed nothing to lie on his back at her feet, his dagger in her hand, poised delicately over his head.

“You are not human,” Gamora commented after stomping her foot on his hand and no audible cracks issued from the bones there.

In his other hand, he procured a dagger, quickly bringing it forth to stab her in the calf. She issued another snarl, holding her stance. Loki smirked, “Neither are you.”

Gamora drew the dagger over her head and Loki tensed his muscles to move at the last moment.

But before she could bring the knife down to the dirt, a muted thud, the sound of metal hitting flesh, sounded across the barren moon’s plane, and Gamora’s eye’s rolled back in her head as she fell to the ground, unconscious.

“I am. I’m mortal, in case anyone was wondering. I don’t think anyone was, but just in case they were…here I am.”

Loki was on his feet in an instant, taking Darcy in his arms and hugging her fiercely. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent like he would never have the opportunity ever again. He was suffocating and she was oxygen.  Not far away, Jörmungandr and Fenrir were wrapped around one another in an embrace, unique to their friendship, clearly happy to see one another again.

Loki began to apologize the moment he felt he had enough air to project words. “Darcy, I am sorry. I am so sorry. It is all my fault. I was being a fool. I am a fool. I promise I will never put you in such danger ever again, I will magically bind us together next time. I love you, I thought you were gone. Gods, Darcy, I—“

“Loki…” she slurred, her arms weakly pushing him away. “Ow...”

He promptly released her, worry clenching at his chest as he magically inspected her body. She was internally wounded, grave injury marking the inside of her body. “Darcy…Darcy, what happened to you?” he gasped, sinking to his knees as she went limp in his arms. There was dried blood on her cheek and there was bruising on the side of her neck. Other than that, there appeared to be no visible damage.

“Guy with a super taser…wanted my brain for science,” she mumbled, blinking up at him with her wide, watery eyes. “Hey Lokes…”

He was quickly making magical preparations on her body so that her mortal form would not be harmed by the amount of magic it would take to heal her completely. “Hush, Darling. All will be well.”

“I know,” she smiled, touching his face. “I love you too. You’re such a pain in the ass.”

He chuckled shakily, projecting as much of his magic onto her as he dared. “Are those sentiments mutually exclusive?”

She laughed quietly, stopping only to scowl when the pain become too great. “I wish they were. It would make loving you a whole lot easier.”

He quirked a grin, heart swelling at her declaration of love. Of course, he knew she did not mean that she was in love with him. At least he did not think that is what she meant. He was not dull enough to think he had any chance of earning those feelings from Darcy, especially after their fight and all that had happened that day. Still, it made him happy and he sighed in mock exasperation, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “So says the mortal.”

Her smile was brighter than any sun he had yet to come across. The only thing that could have outshined it was his relief when he felt her body beginning to accept his magic and heal. Tenderly, he cradled her to his chest, marveling in the warm sensation that rolled through his chest at having her near. It made his throat thick and placated the rapid thrum of his heart. She was safe; he was home.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Darcy buried her face in his neck. He stroked her hair, keeping a close eye on Gamora. If she woke now, he would find a way to strike her down with magic. Darcy was here and she was hurt. He must protect her.

“Darcy,” he said her name softly, as if the volume of his words could worsen her wounds. “Who did this to you?”

She only shook her head and hot tears wet his neck. In a broken voice she recited to him the terrific story of her journey in the middle of Knowhere.

“Darcy…” Loki nearly growled her name, swallowing his immediate desire to wet his hands with the blood of Taneleer Tivan. He would get his opportunity…one day. Repressing his pressing need to reek havoc on The Collector’s life, Loki looked to Astrid.

He often wondered what had become of her, if she flew around from realm to realm, drinking moonlight and bathing in stardust. If he had known she was a captive, caged by a torturer, he would have come to her rescue. They would have to keep a closer eye on her from here on out. “Astrid has grown.”

“Loki,” Darcy murmured quietly, pulling away to focus on his face. “We can’t go after Infinity Stones anymore. It’s too dangerous. People know about them. I don’t know how many, but they’re willing to kill to get their hands on them, Loki.”

His jaw clenched at the thought of someone threatening Darcy’s life for information. He addressed her, glancing to Gamora’s limp form. “I know.”

She shifted from his lap, moving to kneel before him, her warm hands holding his face. “It’s not safe, Loki. Look at you…” she took the hand Gamora had bit, her fingers tracing over the drying blood and nearly healed wound.

It was at that moment that Loki realized three fundamental truths at the exact same time.

Firstly, Darcy was right. She usually was. But in this case, it was essential that he face the truth of her words: The Infinity Stones were dangerous.

Not only were they hazardous to hold, but even to possess knowledge of them was unsafe. The mention of them sent attractive green assassins and mortal torturers.

Secondly, Darcy was mortal and he was not. He had always known this, but it hurt to remember every time. Her mortality was often a joke to them. They both understood that she was strong, stronger than anyone would ever give her credit for. But he must also acknowledge that her mortality was a very real thing. She was breakable, small, and so very precious. Her lifeline was limited, a segment of the infinite expanse it could be.

She was weak. Expediting after the infinity stones could kill her. It almost had. Loki, as an Asgardian, could hold his own. He had magic to fight, to heal, to hide things…Darcy was near defenseless.

Thirdly, the infinity stones must be found. And they could not be found by just anyone; it must be him.  

The Celestian had been clear enough, and although Loki did not understand the entirety of its prophecy, he knew he would find out in the future. For now, he must locate the stones at the very least. He must do it, for the safety of the universe.

It was for these reasons that Loki knew he could not have what he wanted.

And he knew what he wanted now.

He wanted Darcy Lewis. He wanted her to be in love with him as he was in love with her. He wanted to hold her and kiss her as her lover as well as her friend. He wanted to be as close as he could to her without their cells melding together. The only air he wanted to breathe was that which had passed through her lips.

But she mustn’t know of his feelings.

He would take them back to Midgard and Darcy would go on her date with the Idiot Boy, Johnny Storm. Loki would remove himself from her bed for the first time in forever because he knew now that he had admitted the truth of his love for her to himself, it would be far too tempting to do so while they were together in their element.

They would revert to a more conventional friendship. He would spend more time alone, focusing on infinity stones, and Darcy could enjoy being a Midgardian with a mortal boyfriend. It was better this way. She would be safe this way. He would cease spreading rumors about his romantic escapades. He had no need to make Darcy jealous anymore, not that he truly had a good reason to begin with.

He stared into her eyes, deep in thought, mesmerized by their gorgeous depths. Those eyes were a reflection of the heart of Darcy Lewis: fierce, beautiful, and far too stubborn for her own good.

His experience with the Celestian and the power stone would not go over well with her, especially with his intended escapades in mind.  He made up his mind not to tell her. At least not until he had found all of them.

Darcy’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Did you find it? The gem?”

He gave a curt nod, opening his inter-dimensional pocket and pulling from it the metallic sphere. With her eyes trained on his, he let his fingers trail over the surface, sliding the circular panels apart to reveal the purple orb, which he lifted in his hand to show her.

“Loki,” she gasped in amazement, “you can control it.”

“Well, control is a strong word,” he reasoned, putting it back inside its container.

“‘Get-along-with’ might be a better term.”

Her lips twitched tiredly and she squinted at the sky, reminding him that he had her glasses. With a wave of his hand, they were repaired and sitting on the bridge of her nose, like they’d never been lost.

“Loki, we have to find somewhere to put it. Please don’t keep it with you. Please don’t take it back to Asgard. I know you’re a bit banana balls, but you’re not a complete crazy cake.”

Loki wanted to deny her, or lie to her, but he couldn’t. She sounded so very ‘Darcy’, yet so sad, broken…desperate.

He nodded, holding out his smallest finger. “I will take care of it. I promise.”

Sniffling a bit, she linked their pinkies.

They stood, stepping into one another’s embrace. Loki would have stayed in the safety of her arms forever were it not for the loud blare of music that sounded from Peter Quill’s ship.

'Hail (hail)

What's the matter with your hair? Yeah

Hail (hail)

What's the matter with your mind and your sign? And a, oh, oh, oh-a

Hail (hail)

Nothing the matter with your head baby, find it, come on and find it

Hail

With it, baby, 'cause you're fine, and you're mine, and you look so divine

Come and get your love

Come and get your love

Come and get your love

Come and get your love'

Loki shook his head tiredly at Peter Quill’s ship as its ridiculous pilot whistled out the window. “You got this man! You got this!”

Darcy rolled her eyes, mumbling under her breath, “Way to ruin the moment, Star-Lord.”

Fenrir and Jörmungandr, who had been having a reunion of their own with Astrid, whined at his musical farewell. Loki hated to believe they would truly miss Peter Quill, but they would.

Darcy’s hand slipped into his and she gave his fingers a light squeeze, “Come on, Lokes. Let’s go home and drop off that rock somewhere.”

Together, they climbed upon Astrid’s back, Loki taking one last glance back at the unconscious Gamora. He would have felt bad, had they not been trying to kill each other earlier.

The Galaxy Dragon flew fast, but Loki managed, as they were passing a planet with many geysers, to magically place the stone within it. He had no doubt that people would find it, but he trusted the Celestial’s design of the orb’s container to keep unwanted users out. He would return for it.

Loki could feel the moment they passed through the space between the Galaxy Beyond and Yggdrasil and he released a breath of relief when they entered the Asgardian atmosphere.  

Astrid landed in the field outside the passage to Midgard and Loki scratched her scales affectionately. She nuzzled his hair once before taking off again, her great black wings blending in with the night sky perfectly.

Back in Darcy’s room, he bid his beloved mortal farewell, shortening the length of their embrace and wishing her well on her date. She deserved it.

He would not return to sleep with her that night, or the night after. She would be at peace without him and he would watch the stars, trying with all his might to decipher their gripe with him; they must have in their cores an unfathomable hate for his very existence to subject his heart to such a fate.