There's a God Under My Bed

Baldur sat by his hammer and anvil, polishing two short swords and admiring the craftsmanship. The blade was magically created; Baldur had seen it many times, but never quite this beautifully done. The blades were small and thin, but well balanced and flexible. The pummels were ornate, but simplistically so. It was clear by their size and weight that the swords were not meant for someone especially large or particularly strong.

The size of the grips would suggest the wielder was either a child or a small lady.

Even if Advisor Darcy had not been the one to give him her swords for a ‘tune-up’, as she called it, he would have known they were hers if for no other reason than the tiny letters ‘D’ and ‘L’ shaped on either of the swords. He assumed that the ‘L’ was for her Prince.

Baldur would admit that he’d been doing a great deal of thinking about Prince Loki’s Advisor as of late.

He thought back to the first time he met her. She had been a tiny little girl with a walk that told him she was far too excitable for the complacent life of a lady. She’d brought him a picture she drew of a dagger she needed made for her friend’s, Prince Loki’s, birthday present.

He remembered her. Not only because her sketch was so well done, but because she identified herself as a friend of Prince Loki’s. She didn’t say so in a boastful or gloating way. It was a fact. She was his friend. And Baldur had been involved enough in the lives of Asgardian royalty to know that, in the past, Loki hadn’t many friends.

As time went on, Lady Darcy became Advisor Darcy and rumors began to spread of her and Loki. Baldur was old and busy. He didn’t have enough time to keep up with the latest gossip. But any fool could see they cared about one another.

Take for instance the topic of Baldur’s interest involving a golden arrow.

The incident on Skornheim with the near assassination of Prince Loki had sent Darcy to him with a golden arrow Baldur hadn’t seen for years. When she approached him, it was to find the maker of the arrow and its purpose.

Of course Baldur told her the truth. He made the arrow long before the war. Originally, it had been part of a set of twelve arrows and a bow. His intent had been to craft armor as well, a golden suit of Valkyrie hide for a woman worthy enough to bear its glory. Of course, the woman he had in mind perished and he canceled his project soon after.  His sketches for the armor were lost over the years, the arrows scattered during the war. All he had left was the bow.

Baldur pressed his cloth into his fine-made polishing elixir, oiling the blade once more before Advisor Darcy returned to retrieve it. He had plenty of things to be doing. With the impending battle with Vanaheim, Lords and Nobles wanted new armor for themselves and their son’s needed new blades. Being the royal blacksmith, Baldur was the best Asgard had to offer. He was always taking orders, crafting new weapons for this person or that.

It was getting boring. He used to think that by this time in his life he might have grandchildren to take as apprentices or that he might find something he enjoyed more than being a smith. Thus far, neither had happened and he got the feeling that neither ever would.

Once the swords were done, he returned them to their respective sheaths and made his way to his shop where customers and clients typically entered. Unlike shopkeepers and merchants, Baldur didn’t have any staff. Anyone who wanted work done either knew where to find him when he wasn’t at his shop or left a letter on the counter on what they wanted done.

Not a soul went down to his work area save him and his apprentice if he ever got around to having one.

No sooner had he made his way to the front desk to check for orders than one of the double-doors to his shop swung open and a short, brown haired lady scurried inside. Snow clung in her hair as she fought against the wind to get the door shut, muttering to herself in the process.

“…damn door…stupid Loki…stupid Odin…stupid Thor…fucking royals and their fucking…needs…”Advisor Darcy grunted as she shifted positions to push the door shut rather than pull it. Baldur continued to watch her for a moment, thoroughly entertained. She hadn’t even seen him there and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that the door had locked open and there was a lever atop the entry way that would allow her to close it properly. In all honesty, he did not think she was tall enough to reach it.

After another moment, she ceased her efforts huffing at the door. “Alright, listen here you stationary piece of shit, I’ve had a rough day, it’s cold outside, and I have no upper body strength. So close now before I get my swords back and go all Inigo Montoya on your ass. ‘I am Advisor Fucking Darcy, you refused to shut, prepare to die!’” she threatened before pushing again with all her might.

Baldur sighed to keep himself from laughing. He wondered if he’d ever had grandkids if they would be like Darcy. Easily, he walked to the door through the wind and snow blowing inside, and flipped the lever. Instantly, the door slammed shut and Advisor Darcy tumbled forwards, falling face first to the ground.

Baldur couldn’t stop the laughter now and several hearty chuckles rumbled in his chest. What a cute kid. She may be nearing the end of her adolescent years, but she was still a cute kid. She’d still be a cute kid by the time she’s got a few extra thousand years on her.

Advisor Darcy hopped to her feet, her cheeks bright red and her fur cloak hanging off one shoulder. “Baldur, hi. I…uh…didn’t see you there. Did you…um…” she swallowed nervously, “…hear all that?”

He shook his head, rubbing his hands together to bring some heat back into his chilled palms. This may have been the coldest winter on Asgard yet, “Hear what? Aren’t you here to pick up your swords?”

Smiling, she straightened her cloak. “My swords. How are they?”

Baldur walked her to the counter, picking up one of the swords. “They’re in good shape. I sharpened them, oiled the blades a little. Can’t say I found anything the matter unless you were looking to buy new.”

She shook her head, flecks of melted snow going any which way. “Nah. I like these.” He held them out to her and she belted them around her waist, “Thanks, Baldur. How much do I owe you again?”

Baldur waved her off. “Nothing.”

“Baldur…”

He scowled, clapping her on the shoulder perhaps a bit too hard, for she nearly fell over. “Hey kid, listen, I’ve got all the Lords from this place and that wanting new armor. I’ve got enough money to buy High Lord Beard-Ass right out of Nornheim’s army. I don’t need your coins just for checking up on your swords.”

His words made her laugh and Baldur imagined that any granddaughter of his would appreciate rude humor. Ladies nowadays were too tame. They’re all too young to be so confined. They should all laugh more.

“Alright, Baldur. If you insist.” Darcy said warmly and for the first time, the blacksmith noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He couldn’t recall seeing the little lady this tired. Perhaps it was the cold. Few young people slept well in the cold these days. Their skin was too thin.

Baldur cleared his throat as she turned to leave. “Advisor Darcy, perhaps there is something you could give me as payment.”

She smiled at him, palms up. “Lay it on me.”

Smirking at her strange phrasing, he went behind his desk, shuffling through the small drawers till he found a sealed envelope he’d been meaning to send to Queen Frigga for a while now. He handed it to Darcy, “I need an apprentice. Frigga knows I’m particular about who I teach. Give her that and tell her I trust her judgment. I didn’t like the last few idiots the Allfather sent my way.”

The lady nodded approvingly, stowing the note in her belt. “What happened to the other guys?”

Baldur shrugged. “Smithing is a dangerous line of work. There are bound to be a few casualties.”

Darcy narrowed her eyes at him skeptically and the smith laughed. “Oh, fine. I told ‘em to scram after they asked how much I made per century. Load of noble shits with nothing on their minds but gold and tits and blood.” He cleared his throat, remembering that he was speaking to a lady. “Pardon my language.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you Baldur.” This seemed to satisfy her as she patted the letter on her hip. “I’ll get this to Queen Frigga as soon as possible. I’m seeing her later today.”

Baldur nodded to her. “Right then, Advisor Darcy. Keep warm. And tell that prince of yours he did a fine job on the swords. Not many sorcerers can charm as well as I can craft.”

The fall of her cheerful expression was drastic and she was doing a terrible job at hiding how very upset she seemed by what he said.

Darcy pulled her cloak tighter around her, “Yeah…okay. I’ll tell him. Loki…he’ll be glad to hear it.”

Baldur frowned, opening the door and closing it for her as she stepped into the cold, cold day. Idly, he wondered what was going on with the two of them and if she knew who his apprentice was going to be.

                                                                            ***

“Pass the remote.”

“No fucking way.”

“Pass the remote, please?”

“Nope.” Darcy said, holding the TV remote closer to her chest and away from the greedy paws of her evening vegging partner.

Johnny narrowed his eyes, making a grab for the controller.

Johnny Storm was Darcy’s boyfriend.

They will have been together almost four months come March and she didn’t even know when they became official.

Maybe it was on their first date, a week following her galactic excursion, when he took her to the natural history museum because he thought she would like it better than a basketball game. Or maybe their second date when he snuck them into the movie theatre so they could laugh at a ridiculously fake thriller movie.

Maybe it was when he kissed her after they got chased out and they ran four blocks to get away.

Maybe it was when she kissed him back.

However it happened and however long ago, the current result was the two of them sitting on his couch with Chinese takeout, catching up on the best modern media had to offer.

“Darcy, you’re a hoarder with bad taste in television.” Johnny grunted, trying, and failing, to pry the TV remote from her hands.

“Not true!” she protested, her voice muffled by a pillow that fell into her face as she put her socked feet on Johnny’s chest in attempt to push him off.  “You’re the one with bad taste!”

“We’ve been watching South Park and Spongebob since three!” he argued, batting away the cushion she’d thrown at him.

“Since three?” Darcy asked, stopping her struggle abruptly and shoving the remote under her butt where Johnny Storm would never find it. “What time is it?”

Sighing, he checked his watch. “Nine.”

“Nine?” Darcy stood up, abandoning the remote to a cruel life without the underwater joys of Spongebob Squarepants. “Shit, I’ve gotta go.”

In a second, Johnny’s hands were on her hips pulling her into his lap, catching her lips in his for a heated few seconds that made Darcy very much want to stay.

There were things about Johnny Storm that Darcy just couldn’t help but like.

First of all, he teased her, but not in a particularly annoying way like some unearthly individuals chose to. He fought her for the television remote, but he didn’t tickle her till she couldn’t breathe. They argued over whether or not to get olives on their pizza, and usually they could settle for half with and half without since, being a mortal, he couldn’t easily eat the whole damn thing by himself.

Secondly, he was really fucking hot. Usually, Darcy would say she wasn’t that into blondes, but being that the only people she’d ever kissed in her life were all blonde, she should probably stop saying it. So what if he didn’t have black hair? Darcy couldn’t even think of anyone with black hair that she even thought was attractive. Not one person on this planet…

Thirdly, he wasn’t extremely affectionate with her. They held hands in public and made out in the locker room during Darcy’s free period, he sat with her and Grace at lunch and he had a thing for grabbing her ass whenever he could. She couldn’t blame him; her ass was on point. But Johnny never held her. Darcy realized when they first started dating that he just wasn’t the kind of person to cuddle casually.

The second week of their relationship, she hugged him, only to receive a weak, one armed squeeze in return.

It wasn’t because he didn’t care about her or he didn’t like her, he just wasn’t very snuggly.

And Darcy was just fine with that. It’s not like she needed them or anything.

Besides, she didn’t even know if she wanted Johnny to cuddle with her. For a few dumb reasons that may or may not have to do with cuddle-bug space princes.

It was these reasons that led Darcy to deepen their kiss, flicking her tongue against his and pressing her thighs together when he squeezed her hip. Another minute later, she broke the kiss, thoroughly enjoying how Johnny Storm looked with flushed cheeks and messy hair. “Are you sure you have to go? Because I just remembered how much I really fucking love Spongebob.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, smirking at her boyfriend as she stood up from his lap. “Well, don’t let me come between you and Spongebob.”

“I was actually thinking you could come between me and my bed sheets, but Spongebob works too if you’re up for it.” Johnny said with a playful grin, turning off the TV and standing up to walk her to the door.

Darcy laughed humorlessly, pulling on her shoes and coat. “Keep dreaming, Hotshot.”

“Oh, I do.” He assured as she fished around her pockets for car keys.

Darcy tapped her chin approvingly. “Good. Am I super hot in all of those dreams?”

He nodded once, seemingly in pain. “Any hotter and my bed would be on fire.”

Humming, she stood on her toes, keeping both hands behind her back as she kissed him lightly on the lips. “I’ll catch you later, Storm.”

He licked his lips like the sexy bastard he was, eyes lighting up as he remembered something. “Hey, I forgot to tell you, Ashley, you know Ashley, he’s having a party this weekend. Go with me?”

Darcy made a face, “I think I’ll pass. I’m doing stuff.”

“Stuff.” Johnny repeated exasperatedly, crossing his arms. “You’re always doing stuff.”

The urge to tell him that, technically, she wasn’t even supposed to be a bum and watch TV with him after school because she had a fucking realm to help govern, gnawed at her nerves. Thankfully she suppressed it, turning on her heel to march out the door on a lighter note. “What can I say? I’m a busy gal.”

Johnny clearly wanted to press the matter. “Darce, I’m serious.”

“About what?” she asked, looking up into his light blue eyes. “Spongebob?”

He gave her a look. “No. I’m serious about…”

He trailed off, suddenly looking very bashful indeed. Darcy thought it was kinda cute to watch Johnny Storm fumble over his words. “What?” she probed, poking his forearm teasingly. “That six hours of South Park doesn’t equate to a date?”

He rolled his eyes, looking to the ceiling in what Darcy deemed reluctance. “Us, Darce. I’m serious about us.”

That wasn’t the answer Darcy was expecting. “Oookay. Well…”

“Darcy, I’m serious.” He pleaded, laying his hands on her shoulders.

She blinked up at him, unsure as to how to process the information he was giving her. “I know. You just said you were serious. About us.”

“Well, I am.” He said decidedly. He sighed, bowing his head. “Look, I’ve never really been in a relationship with anyone this long and it’s weird cuz…”

“Cuz why?’ Darcy encouraged with a smile, secretly wishing he would hurry up with everything he had to say. Not to sound like the uncaring, workaholic girlfriend, but there was a realm and a space prince that desperately needed her attention.

“Because I don’t want us to be over.” Johnny said like that small detail was the most bizarre thing ever to happen to him. “Most of the time, I just want to move on. I don’t want to move on past you, Darce. I like you; I always have liked you. I don’t even know why…I just do.” He paused to gauge her reaction, continuing to speak when he found her mouth gaping to a near comical extent. “I want to spend more time with you, in a totally non-clingy way. I just…I really like spending time with you and…you know…your ass.”

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose. “There it is.”

Johnny shoved his hands in his pockets in a way that would normally look cool, but came off rather dorky given the context. “I guarantee I think about your ass more than I think about space.”

“That’s impressive considering the amount of space in your head.” She joked, tapping his forehead with her fingertip.

Smirking, he pushed down her hand. “Darce, please. Come with me to Ashley’s party this weekend. Bring Grace if you want. I don’t think you’ve ever been to a party.”

Darcy bit her lip in thought. It was true that she hadn’t been to a party before, at least not the kind Johnny was talking about. But she had important business to take care of.

The Asgardian court was more of a mess than usual. The impending war with Vanaheim was soon upon them and they were undecided as to what side they were taking.

One side of the court, namely the Norns, wanted to side with the Vanir nobility in the more Asgardian cultured society. They claimed that it was with this part of Vanaheim that the treaty binding Asgard to her sister realm was made  and they ought to stay true to it. Lord Bjarte spoke at many conferences, rather than sending Erlend in his place as he had before, and chose instead to preach duty of the Aesir to the Nine Realms.

He was a convincing speaker, but if Darcy had the power in an international affairs meeting to disagree with him, she would have. Mainly because he would rant, for many precious hours, on ‘revealing the true nature of Asgard’s leadership’ to ‘demonstrate to Yggdrasil the power and influence the name of the Realm Eternal’s rulers till held.’

Darcy smelled a rat, but her hands were as good as bound when it came to setting a trap. She was a human in a room full of big, smelly elephants that couldn’t seem to stomp the mouse gnawing on their cankle skin.

Another, smaller, portion of the court was leaning towards siding with the Vanir tribal communities. They believed that since there were more people in the tribes than in the capital city, they could save more lives by killing the side with less people.

Darcy hated taking sides and was compelled to take an alternate route.

Queen Freya of Vanaheim was far from a figure head. Although she lived in the capital, all of Vanaheim abided by her word and law. Darcy had written her twice in attempt to devise a strategy with the Queen that might absolve Vanaheim of its conflict. She advised Darcy, vaguely and in the same sense that Frigga often did, to ‘win the war by warring with one’s self.’

Basically, it was the most obvious and useless advice anyone had ever given her and Darcy was left with her less than brilliant battle strategies. She wasn’t a warrior; she was an advisor.

Odin would make the final decision. Gods help them all.

It was because of this that Darcy shook her head, apologizing to her boyfriend. “I’m sorry Johnny. Maybe next time, alright? Give me a heads up and I’ll plan for it.”

Johnny was disappointed; she could tell by the intensity of his pout. He quickly brushed it aside. “Okay, Lewis. Next time. It’ll be a nice one, you know that, right?”

“Know what?” Darcy asked, her brows coming together.

“I only get the best for my girl.” Johnny said, kissing her again, smacking her ass with a self satisfied smile. “I’ll see you around.”

“Bye, Hotshot.” She said, tugging on her hat before trotting out to her car.

Darcy got her license at the end of January as a congratulations present from her parents for acing all her midterms. Not that she worked especially hard on them, but they could probably tell she was going through a lot outside of her new relationship.

She wasn’t suffering from anxiety like she had been around the same time last year, and she wasn’t exactly under stress. But she was having nightmares.

The word ‘nightmare’ never painted a horrifying picture in Darcy’s head before. The concept of the word wasn’t scary. What was a bad dream compared to the true terrors that existed in the wide, wide world?

Darcy was coming to know exactly what was so terribly about nightmares. She couldn’t be physically tortured in her dreams, but as she was coming to learn, physical isn’t even where the true pain began.

The night she and Loki returned on Astrid, Darcy knew something was off about her friend.

At first, she thought, perhaps, he realized that she had been a good few seconds away from grabbing his face and kissing the lights out of him had it not been for Peter Quill and his ridiculous music. She had quickly tossed the thought. The minute she told Loki that they should stop pursuing the infinity stones, she could see his mind working.

The gears in his brain, the ones that worked overtime…the ones that never stopped…were grinding her friend to bits. And with his downfall also went their friendship.

He left her. After she had been tortured by Taneleer Tivan and traveled through the god damned galaxy to find his ever loving ass flirting/getting his ass beat by a green space chick, Loki took her home, saw to it that she got into bed, and then went back to Asgard. Even with Frank and Fenrir there with her, Darcy had never felt more alone.

Loki stopped sleeping in her bed from that night onwards. Based on how his eyes looked, he’d stopped sleeping period.

She still saw him, of course, but there was something very wrong about him and everyday he looked worse.

Her room was dark when she entered, the sun having passed long ago and the moon hidden by the clouds.

Loki was there, nonetheless, waiting in his armor, cold and black, to take her to Asgard so she could do her job as his advisor. His gaze shot to her as soon as she opened the door, his face almost completely blank.

It was shocking how much he seemed to change over the past months. He looked more like a man than ever and less like the boy that used to write in his journal with green crayon.

He was thinner…leaner than he had been before their encounter with the power stone. It looked less like he’d lost weight and more like he’d been doing a different kind of exercise other than fighting with Thor. Not to mention he was pale…paler than he ever was before, his pallor emphasized by the dark circles under his eyes.

“Loki,” Darcy breathed, resisting the urge to go and take him in her arms and hug the pain away. She’d tried once before, around the turn of the New Year, two weeks after her first date with Johnny. Loki left the night before after she gave him a stack of letters to send out to important people in far away provinces. He didn’t come back again till January second, looking like someone had locked him alone in a dark room with no solace but his own mind.

She’d hugged him. It was natural…it was like breathing for Darcy to hold Loki. To kiss his palms, to touch his face and to play with his hair…all were as simple as anything she’d ever known. She never thought about it; she never had to.

One could imagine her utter surprise and heartbreak when he stiffened at her touch and backed away. He didn’t stay more than a few minutes, just long enough to tell her that regular visits to Asgard would resume the following day.

She tried talking to him. She tried hugging him, holding his hand, gently pleading, angrily yelling. His reaction was only ever the same expression. Loki never was good at masking his emotions; they were always plain on his face, even when he tried not to show them.

He was in pain. Awful, fearful pain. And he wasn’t letting her help him. She wondered if that’s what it had been like for him when she was going through the rougher part of her bouts with anxiety. For that reason, she exercised patience. Maybe he just needed time.

With this thought in mind, Darcy swallowed, her heart constricting at the sight of him. “Sorry I’m late. I got caught up at Johnny’s.”

His jaw clenched tightly for a full three seconds before relaxing, his mouth twitching as his voice caught a tone that lacked compassion or hostility, moodiness or mischief. “Of course.”

She waited for more. She wondered if he might ask how she was or if she was ready to go.

He didn’t and Darcy bit her lip, “I’m staying for the weekend. On Asgard, I mean. I’ve got stuff to do.”

Loki’s pretty green eyes were the only part of him that stayed true, defacing the emotionless mask he wore as he cast her double.  “Very well.”

After a hesitant, silent moment, she ducked under her bed, her breath catching when he took her hand to take them away. Traveling between realms was the closest she ever got to him nowadays. She wondered how much longer she could take it.

***

Sigyn took in the scene around her with a sense of detachment. She saw Darcy’s legs being knocked from under her for the fifteenth time that afternoon and Sif explaining a counter-attack while giving a brief demonstration. She saw Loki watching not ten paces away from where she stood, his eyes set in deep concentration as he watched Darcy fight.

It seemed that the air was mocking her miseries with its icy, unrelenting bite. Hard snowflakes whipped her across the face, adding chill to her already stone cold grimace. Although she wore her furs and gloves, there was nothing warm about Sigyn that day. The only thing that offered her the slightest semblance of heat in any part of her body was a small dark bruise in the side of Sif’s neck that Sigyn had put there not long before she and Darcy began to duel. The mark of her affection was already starting to fade.

It occurred to Sigyn that no matter how deeply or how truly she loved her lady, they could not be together as she wished. And, the more Sigyn thought about her and Sif’s partnership, what did she have to offer? Sif was a warrior. A heroine.

And what was Sigyn? A lady?

Perhaps she was a lady. She looked like one and she lived like one. But she did not feel like one. She was bored of their games and tired of their monotonous lifestyles. She wanted something new. She wanted to be something new. She wanted to be more…more for Sif. Sif deserved someone who was more than an idle being whose closest ali was her bitterness.

Sigyn envied the person Sif deserved, for she was not her.

Darcy sustained a thorough hit to her middle before toppling over once again. Loki’s fists tightened in response, the skin of his knuckles whiter than the snow that fell around them.

She sighed, stepping towards him. Loki and Darcy were not as they typically were.

Neither of them looked well rested. Loki’s pale complexion had gone from a delicate pallor to a sickening blankness, as if he was void of color save his eyes which seemed to darken with intensity every passing second. He did a poor job of hiding how unhappy he was.

Darcy, while she looked equally as tired, appeared to be a great deal happier. Her cheeks were blushed red and her smiles were bright and frequent. From her distracted dreamy grins and occasional mindless giggles, Sigyn detected a new love in Darcy’s life. It took little coaxing one night they took to Darcy’s bed for Darcy to tell them that she was courting someone.

She wouldn’t relay any of the details, which led Sigyn to believe that they were below her class. However, Darcy did let slip that her lover was, in fact, a man.

At first, Sigyn believed this was the cause of Loki’s displeasure. Not only had Darcy chosen a man, contrary to his previous notion that she only liked women, but that man was also a commoner. She had chosen a peasant man over a Prince of Asgard.

But the more Sigyn considered Loki, how he held himself, how he looked at her, she could tell it was more than that.

Tenderly, she squeezed his arm, hesitant to touch him due to his tense posture. He looked like a dangerous creature, black hair whipping in the wind, entangling itself with frozen snow, and eyes shaded in the dark mask of tiredness. He was ready to pounce.

He jumped, like she suspected, but she held onto his upper arm, concern seeping into her touch. He relaxed, placing his bare, long fingered hand over her gloved one. “Hello Sigyn.”

She attempted a smile, her muscles not quite mustering the energy to maintain it. “Aren’t you cold, Loki? You’ve been standing here for nearly as long as I have.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, thin lips pursing together and adding emphasis to the lines of his face. It surprised Sigyn, for a moment, as she noticed how masculine Loki had come to look. Grant it, he was not Thor, his features were sharper and his body was narrower. Sigyn found that, while women attracted her lust and love, she could appreciate the looks of men as she might a flower in Frigga’s garden or a nice wine from Alfheim.

Loki was perhaps, in Sigyn’s opinion, one of the finer wines.

“I am fine.” He told her shortly as Sif blacked one of Darcy’s attacks and sent her to the ground. Darcy was doing fairly well for fighting Sif. Though she had no strength, she showed a surprising amount of resilience.  Loki frowned nonetheless, the muscles in his arm becoming impossibly more rigid.

Sigyn patted his hand. “You do not have to watch, you know. Sif will not hurt Darcy permanently.”

He didn’t respond, jaw clenching as Darcy dodged one of Sif’s attacks. Sigyn knew Loki and Darcy had always been close; but how close they were was more of a mystery. Darcy was an affectionate little lady and Sigyn remembered her easy embraces and casual hand holding with fondness. She extended her care to anyone she called a friend. But Darcy’s affection never looked more natural than when she and Loki were together.

That was why Sigyn worried.

Loki seemed ill and Darcy looked like she hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep since the change of season. It was clear that a force beyond life and death had taken hold of them, only to be encouraged by their stupidity.

“Perhaps you worry too much about her injury and less about her suffers.” Sigyn told him softly, blinking snow flurries out of her lashes.

The sharp lines of his face hardened and for a moment Sigyn thought he was going to express his anger. It scared her to see Loki so unlike himself.

Before he could say anything, Darcy was thrown to the ground again. Only this time, she didn’t stand up. Loki’s entire posture changed, leaning forward like he was ready to leap from the balcony and rush to her aid.

Sigyn tightened her grip on his upper arm as Sif bent over Darcy’s body in concern. Suddenly, Darcy’s arms shot up and using her hands and legs, she brought Sif to the ground and positioned one of her swords to her neck. Her victorious, “Bitchin’!” could be heard from where she and Loki stood.

Loki seemed to deflate, whether from relief or pure exhaustion, Sigyn didn’t know. He ran a hand through his hair. The ends were getting long, curling up on his collar. Darcy had accidentally said one night that Loki’s hair was always curly when he woke up before he combed it or magicked it into place.

From the ground, Darcy looked in their general direction and squinted. She mentioned on occasion that she couldn’t see very well and Sigyn often wondered why she didn’t see Eir with her impairment.

Recognizing them or Loki more importantly, she raised a tentative hand to wave at them. Loki nodded once in her direction, waiting for her to give her attention to Sif again before turning away.

“Good day, Sigyn.” He said, quietly so she could just hear him over the wind, and kissed the back of her hand. “Do stay warm.”

Sigyn grimaced as he walked away, Jörmungandr appearing out of nowhere to slither up his body and rest around his shoulders.

She would not be keeping very warm for quite some time, for the only spark of heat was centered at the light of her life. And she would sooner have her lady to herself than she could hold all the stars in Yggdrasil in her hands.

Bitterly, she glared down at the fight, folding her hands tightly in front of her and suffering through the cold.

“I find watching the fights quite dull, really. There are much more interesting things than people attempting to wound one another, don’t you think, Lady Sigyn?”

The blonde haired lady whipped around at the sound of Queen Frigga’s voice. She hastened into a curtsey. “I agree, Allmother.”

The Queen wore a dark blue cloak and her hair was done up with intricate gold pins. Sigyn decided the Queen was too good for King Odin. She was beautiful, intelligent, and yelled a lot less. Also, she did not have a habit of marrying off their obnoxious eldest son to the lady least wanting of him.

Frigga smiled, as if understanding all of Sigyn’s woes. She held out her hand and Sigyn took it, marveling in the warmth of the Queen’s hands. “Tell me, Sigyn, you are so unhappy lately, is there anything I could do that could make it better? Despite the obvious, of course.”

Sigyn nearly choked on her tongue as the Allmother’s glanced to Sif then back at the blonde lady knowingly. “Your Majesty…I—“

Frigga patted her hand reassuringly, “Do not fuss over it, dear. Now, tell me what troubles you most days. I see you grow angrier and angrier with each passing second.”

Sighing, Sigyn gripped Queen Frigga’s fingers tightly, as if grasping onto some power to maintain her complacency. She was very angry.

“I am bored, Your Highness. And I daresay, I have never felt so useless in all my life.” Sigyn meant to stop talking, but suddenly every awful thought she’d ever had about her life came spilling out at that moment. “I have no talents or skills. I don’t enjoy sewing and I cannot pass the time pining after men of the court. In a land where honor is everything and the only duty I’ve ever been given is to honor my parents by gaining a better name. My name is renowned as the image of the perfect lady because I am quiet and have been groomed my entire life to be some man’s bride. A man with no regard for delicacy or anything but the biggest shock he can cause when he pulls out his hammer.”

Frigga cocked her brow and it took Sigyn a moment to realize all that she said. Apologetically she held out her hands and Frigga hushed her with a giggle. “Oh child, do not be sorry for speaking your mind. Did Sif not tell you once it was better to do that?”

Sigyn smiled fondly down at her lady as she planted Darcy’s face in the mud. “Yes. Perhaps I needed reminding.”

“Perhaps.” Frigga agreed, “Although you do have a fair point, Sigyn. It is never good to be without purpose. I have a proposition for you.”

Sigyn blinked a few times in shock, her skin buzzing with excitement. “A proposition? Of course, Your Majesty.”

From her cloak, the Allmother removed a large envelope and handed it to the lady. “These are papers approving your new apprenticeship. I’ve had a horse prepared for you whenever you’re ready.”

The world was moving too fast for Sigyn to keep steady footing and she almost stumbled when Frigga released her hand. “Your Majesty…who will I be apprenticing for?”

Frigga took a moment to answer, nodding her head back and forth indecisively. “He is…an old friend. I think you’ll like him.”

Those were her parting words and even a few moments following them being said, Sigyn was left to contemplate her life decisions as she tightened her cloak around her shoulders and headed for the stables. She might as well not delay the future.

The stable hands told her it was an awful day for riding, Sigyn requested Frigga’s prepared horse and they helped her up with ease. They assured her the horse knew where it was going, though Queen Frigga had been just as vague with its final destination as she’d been with Sigyn.

The white stallion Frigga chose for her Sigyn recognized as Thor’s steed, Gareth, and Sigyn wondered if the Queen wanted her to die of humiliation. Mounting anything of Thor’s was a disgrace to even think about.

Not that it mattered. Thor hardly rode anywhere. He either walked or flew with that hammer of his. Besides, Loki and Darcy shared a horse, did they not? And they were…

Oh, who were they trying to fool? They were infatuated with one another.

Sigyn fumed internally about the implications of her riding Thor’s horse and she hoped no one could see her through the storm.

Gareth didn’t seem to mind the cold too much and Sigyn clung to his white, warm hide for heat as they passed through the city.

Sigyn had ventured out into the capital before, though mostly for royal events. Courting princes required that one be seen with the prince they were courting. But she never went out like the rest of the ladies did. Clothes shopping, exploring, indulging in festivals…she never did. Her parents were strict. She never left the palace, for they feared she might do something ridiculous like fall hard enough in love with a commoner to elope with them.

What a shame that would be.

Even though Sigyn was forced into reclusion, she still noticed when Gareth started heading farther away from the shops and tradesmiths. Soon, they had ventured out of the heart of the city and not to long after that, they were walking the line of the city limits near a great stone wall. A cobblestone path, coated thick with ice and snow, guided Gareth along their way.  Eventually, the path became completely covered and Sigyn noticed Gareth slowing down, as if uncertain.

She pursued her lips, wondering what she could possibly do to make sure she did not end up stranded, when a dark figure flickered in the distance.

Sigyn squinted against the storm as the figure emerged from the blizzard like a shadow. It was a horse with a mane blacker than night and half of it skeletal and dead.

It was Loki and Darcy’s horse. Hel. She didn’t make any sound. While Gareth grunted and blew hot breaths into the frozen air, Hel was silent as she became their guide, leading Gareth down the proper path.

Sigyn did not know much about Hel. Only that she had been Loki’s horse for as long as anyone could remember and when she was younger, she broke her leg. Loki tried to fix it magically and her flesh fell away on the side he healed. He thought he’d killed her, but the next morning she was awake and standing as if nothing was wrong.

That incident was the start of Loki’s social exile. After word got around of what he’d done to his horse, rumors started that he was a dangerous child, heartless and magical.

Sigyn had always been aware of Loki, even if she showed no interest in him till her adolescent years. He was a prince. And even with all the rumors, she never thought Loki was cruel or mean. He was different. He spent most of his time alone if he wasn’t clinging to his mother’s side like the floor was going to fall from around him.

And even though she caused him trouble, Loki kept Hel. The only two people the horse had ever truly behaved for and didn’t run away from were Loki and Frigga. Then Loki met Darcy and she became the little lady’s horse as well as Loki’s.

Now she was guiding Sigyn and Thor’s horse through the storm as if it were nothing.

Suddenly, Gareth stopped and Sigyn realized they had come to their destination. The supposed place of Sigyn’s apprenticeship was a large hut, seemingly built into the side of a large mountain. The doors were large and brass. To the side was a stable with insulated walls.

Quickly, Sigyn dismounted Gareth and she led him to the stables, pleased to find that it was warm inside and there was fresh hay and warm water. Sigyn stroked his mane a few times, unsure of how to care for a horse. Should she thank him?

“Well done, Gareth.” She complimented and the steed snorted, as if in agreement. She smirked, thinking that this horse was indeed Thor’s. Rigidly, Sigyn stepped back into the storm where Hel awaited her.

Sigyn could not recall ever being scrutinized by a horse before, but there was no arguing that Hel was doing anything less than judging the blonde lady in all that she was. Sigyn narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. She was being critiqued and studied by almost every damn person on Asgard; she didn’t have time to add a horse to that list.

She was about to tell the horse to leave,  when it occurred to her that Hel was staring less like a judgmental lady and more like a wide eyed child that was being introduced to a stranger for the first time.

As it turned out, Sigyn never really was good with children. She feared the day when she would have to birth Thor’s. The last thing in the world she wanted were children. Even so, she sympathized with Hel and tenderly reached out a hand to her.

Faster than Thor’s lightening and quieter than Loki’s magic, she was gone, black and bone lost in the snowy abyss.

After the initial shock of her hasty departure, Sigyn quickly made her way inside the mountainside hut. She slipped in through a small crack in the door, pondering the last time she opened a door herself. Ever since her engagement to Thor, Einherjar had been stationed outside her bedroom.

She pushed open the door only enough for her to get inside and it closed shut behind her.

Sigyn hadn’t known what to expect upon entering. How could she even begin to imagine what fantastical ideas flew through Queen Frigga’s mind? But she had considered the idea that perhaps the Allmother wanted her to be a sorceress's apprentice or assist in the realm’s archives. Instead, she found herself in what appeared to be a blacksmith’s shop.

Swords and war hammers hung on the walls, their gleaming surfaces shining down on her. A few candles were lit around the place, giving the shop a warm kind of glow. A suit of armor stood in the corner, silver and shiny. At the front of the small store was an enormous, roughly carved wooden desk, piled high with stacks of sealed scrolls. Overall, Sigyn liked it in an odd kind of way. It was in no way grand or rich like the palace, but warm and quaint. It felt like it could be someone’s home.

Curiously, she glanced around the shop, looking for the person she was to be apprenticing for. There didn’t seem to be any stairs leading to an upper level and no one showed when she called out.

With a short huff and an impatient frown, Sigyn ran her fingers through her wet hair, scraping out the melting chunks of snow. As she walked the length of the store, something caught her eye. On the ground just behind the clerk’s counter appeared to be another door. This one was wooden, square, and imbedded in the ground. A large brass handle was planted on the opposite side of two well oiled hinges.

Steeling herself, Sigyn approached the door and pulled up on the handle.

Cold air and the smell of smoke channeled up from the depths, followed swiftly by the sound of hammering. A sturdy wooden ladder sloped downwards to a brightly lit space. Deciding that she did not have all that much to lose, Sigyn made her way down the rungs into the space below.

What she saw took her breath away.

The space below the shop was not a cellar or drafty cell, but rather a cave. Gray stone walls inlaid with dully shining supports surrounded her, wooden floor boards coated the ground where she stood, but led off to hard granite. Several doors were set in the walls, each one just as thick and as big as the last.

Yet it was the end of the cave that captured Sigyn’s attention.

The cavern overlooked a lake, a small one, enclosed by the mountain she had ridden Gareth so long to find. White water rushed down a waterfall on the opposite side, spilling clear, crystal water into the lake and stirring the snow on the surface. A few ice covered trees straggled near the edge of the water, their roots tangled in spots of crumbling rock.

At the mouth of the cavern sat the source of the hammering.

A forge was stationed near the water. It’s base was comprised of several layers of brick and stone and the coals radiated heat that contrasted greatly with the freezing weather.

A blacksmith stood beside it, one great hand holding in place a red-hot metal plate while the other gripped a massive hammer. With every clang, every pound of metal hitting metal, Sigyn took another step towards the smith. And with every step, she noticed how enormous he was.

Sigyn had seen a great deal of large, burly men. To be certain, she was marrying, perhaps, one of the largest, burliest men ever to walk Asgardian soil.

However, this blacksmith was a giant for sure. He was taller than Thor and his girth seemed larger than Volstagg’s. Only this man did not seem rotund as Volstagg was, rather just solid. His bones could have been as wide as Sigyn’s fists and his skin as thick Bilgesnipe hide. As he pounded away, Sigyn saw his muscles, substantial and rope-like, move under his shirt and apron.

She was so entranced by the man that she hardly noticed how close she’d gotten to him until he ceased his pounding.

Sigyn’s heart fluttered in fear and she quickly pushed the feeling away, squaring her shoulders as the blacksmith turned to face her.

His beard was coarse, short, brown, streaked with gray and singed around the edges and he looked extremely disgruntled. “Who the Hel are you?”

Sigyn lifted her chin haughtily, maintaining her regal position. She was a lady, and one man’s questioning would not make her forget otherwise. “I am Lady Sigyn.”

The blacksmith cocked a bushy eyebrow at her. “Good to know. Now why, by the gods, are you in my shop?”

Already, Sigyn could tell that she was going to have a difficult time with this man. Perhaps Frigga had sent her to the wrong location, surely she did not mean for Sigyn, heiress of Jolena, to be a blacksmith’s apprentice.

She answered the man nonetheless. “The Allmother sent me for an apprenticeship.”

This remark seemed to settle the blacksmith immensely as he dipped the metal he’d been beating first into the lake and then let it sit in a small, circular water basin beside the forge. “Did you bring the papers?”

Sigyn who had not expected that question, hesitated for a moment before reaching into her cloak and pulling out the sealed scroll Frigga had given her. The blacksmith moved to a large table opposite the room and began cutting and stretching bits of leather.

She held it out to him from where she stood as the man clearly paid her no mind. Perhaps it was a ruffian's custom to be rude to their guests. Irritated, she continued to hold out the paper, refusing to walk close to him. He asked for the papers; let it be him who accepts them from her.

Only the blacksmith didn’t even turn around. He didn’t do anything but play with his leathers for what could have been an hour. Finally, he spoke in his rough, gravelly tone. “Read it to me.”

Sigyn wanted to be daring enough to ask why, but she was a lady by forced nature, and ladies never asked ‘why’. Instead, she grit her teeth, breaking the seal on the scroll and reading aloud:

“Dearest Baldur, I am pleased to inform you that I have found you an apprentice. Sigyn is one of my ladies and she has been for most of her life. I know titles are unimportant to you, but hers will be given the circumstances. Her parents are High Lord and Lady of Jolena, I am sure you’re familiar with them and their occasionally off-putting means of requesting your work.”

Baldur chortled a little and made a face. Sigyn scowled in memory of her parents and read on.

“That being said, they have strict rules pertaining to Sigyn especially since she has recently been engaged to my eldest, Thor.” Sigyn paused for a moment, admiring how Frigga talked about her children like they weren’t princes of the Realm Eternal. “Her apprenticeship with you shall be discreet and I will be her investor. You’ll soon see that all of your qualifications are met with Lady Sigyn. Most Sincerely, Frigga.”

Baldur sighed heavily, putting down his tools and Sigyn flipped the paper over, noticing a note written in purple ink.

“Post statement, from Darcy: Baldur, Sigyn is just as, if not more, grumpy than you. Be nice and you’ll work well together.”

Sigyn narrowed her eyes at Darcy’s statement. She was not grumpy. Angry, perhaps, but she had good reason to be.

The blacksmith tapped his fingers against his worktable for a few seconds. At last he spoke to her. “Sigyn, is it?”

“Yes.” She answered as he paced his shop, grabbing a stool beside his forge and heaving himself down upon it.

“Well Sigyn,” he said, propping his hand on his knee. “Let me see your hands.”

Instinctively, Sigyn pulled her fingers into fists inside her gloves, glaring at him, expecting an explanation.

He narrowed his big brown eyes, “Look, if  you’re going to be my apprentice, I need to know what kind of hands you’ve got.”

Relenting, Sigyn stepped forwards, her back stiff as she held out her palms to him.

Baldur reached for her hands and she thought his touch might be too rough, or that the size of his fingers might crush her bones.

Instead, he removed her gloves quickly and with certain finesse that Sigyn hadn’t known anyone to possess. He tossed the gloves aside, studying her hands with interest. His bushy black brows came together and his enormous thumbs were almost as large as her palms.

Baldur turned them over and grunted in what could have been humor or disapproval. She wasn’t sure.

“These aren’t terrible hands.” He told her at last, still holding onto her fingers. “You’re a lady, but these fingers aren’t made for delicate work. You don’t sew. You don’t write. Clearly you don’t fight, even with a dagger. You’re not a musician. You’re not an artist. You don’t practice sorcery. You don’t cook and I get the feeling you don’t do a lot of gardening.”

Sigyn scowled as he smirked at her hands.

“Your nails look nice, but you didn’t do them yourself.” He bent her thumb to more closely examine a knuckle. “But these are strong hands. They spend more time in fists than any fighting man, yet they are idle. You have practice neither wielding a blade nor studying the art of making them, so why, Lady Sigyn, are you here?”

Sigyn kept her eyes locked on his, daring him to insult her position. “You need an apprentice and Queen Frigga felt I would fit your requirements.”

“A little lady who does nothing but read? A book is all these hands have ever carried.” He touched her knuckles with his hard calloused fingertips. “Mild experience with a bow, but you’re not terribly interested in killing.  Your dedication to the craft has nothing to do with improving your archery. That being said, what can you do, Lady Sigyn? What do you do with yourself?”

Sigyn almost said ‘Sif’ because it would have been an honest response. However, she didn’t believe sex was the answer Baldur was looking for. But besides being engaged to Thor, being friends with Darcy and Loki, and loving her lady, there wasn’t much Sigyn did. She answered him honestly. “Nothing.”

“Nothing.” Baldur grunted again and Sigyn declared to herself that he was visually the epitome of everything she found unattractive about men. “Sounds boring.”

“Quite.” Sigyn said in return and Baldur gave her a long, hard, searching look.

“Give me one good reason why I should allow you to be my apprentice.”

Sigyn grit her teeth, returning Baldur’s scrutiny. She didn’t ask to be his apprentice. It was offered to her and the only reason why she accepted was because she was bored. She’d been bored her entire life. She had nothing. No skill. No interest. She needed something and so she jumped on the opportunity given to her.

But if she had to deal with another pig-headed man feel that she had some worth to herself, she wouldn’t do it. She’d find another way.

Bitterly, she pulled her hands from Baldur’s and gave a single word answer. “No.”

No, indeed. She was entitled. She didn’t have any reason, let alone a good one, as to why he should make her his apprentice. She already had to prove to the entire realm that she was worthy enough to wed the Crowned Prince of Asgard, she didn’t have enough in her to prove anything more. So let him deal with—

“There’s a shed not far down the road where I keep my spare tools. I’ll write you a list and you can get familiar with all of them. Then come back and you can get started.” Baldur said, hefting himself up from his stool. “I expect you here every other day from sunrise till sunset. If you’re not here, you’d better have a damn good excuse.”

And thus Sigyn’s apprenticeship began.

                                                               ***

“Okay, so, my mom thinks I’m chilling at your place, Darce. She will never know I third wheeled you and your smoking bit of man-candy to one of Ashley’s parties.” Grace said from the backseat of Johnny’s four door pick-up truck. “She will never know how short and tight this dress is. She will never know that I rode in a vehicle that uses almost as much gasoline as a small commercial airplane. She will never know that the guy driving said vehicle has only one hand on the fucking steering wheel. She will never—“

“Grace,” Darcy interrupted, turning around in her seat to look back at her best friend. “Everything is fine. It’s a party, not a rave.”

Grace took a few steadying breaths, pulling up the top of her sleeveless dress. Technically it was Darcy’s dress, which is why it was a bit big in the boob area, but Grace made it work. “Right. Okay. Johnny?”

“Yes Grace?” Johnny said from the front seat, giving Darcy’s hand a squeeze as he made a right turn. Darcy’s heart did a thing as he did so, feeling foolish for crushing so hard on her boyfriend.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much intoxication, violence, and arson amongst other illegal activities happen at these party things?” Grace asked in a meek voice.  “And will there be red solo cups and if so, when can I give my speech about the dangers of not recycling plastic materials? Also,” she added as they made a left turn, “Use your fucking turning signal, you hot piece of ass.”

Johnny sighed in exasperation, “Well to be honest, it depends on the party. There most definitely will be red solo cups and you cannot give your speech unless you’re willing to fight someone…” he thought about what he’d just said. “Okay, just don’t give the speech.” He finished his answer by deliberately turning on his turning signal for the next right turn.

Darcy laughed and pinched the back of his hand. “Be nice. Grace can fight whoever she wants.”

“Damn straight.” Grace said indignantly, “And her mother will never find out how many people she fights.

Darcy had finally agreed to go to one of Ashley’s parties with Johnny. Over a month had passed since she promised him she would find the time and she could tell he was super excited about the whole thing.

April was coming around and it was just starting to get warm again. Johnny still wore a leather jacket because he swore up and down it was going to rain later.

On Asgard, the snow had melted and the Frigga’s tulips were beginning to sprout. And as the weather began to heat, as did Vanaheim’s tensions. Any day now Darcy was expecting the proverbial message from Queen Freya declaring the war. And yet the Asgardian court was still as indecisive as ever they were about whose side Asgard was to take. It was apparent that Odin would be the one to have the final say in the matter.

He would give each member of the court who had an opinion the option to give their induction as to why they should take either side and he would announce his verdict the following morning.

The meeting for said testimonies was this evening and Darcy had to be sure to be back in her room by midnight so Loki could take her to Asgard and she could try her best to convince him to get to that meeting.

Speaking of Loki…

What was she going to do with him?

He hadn’t been attending any meeting and he wasn’t talking to her…at all. Somehow, they were on lesser speaking terms than they were a month ago and that’s saying something. It was making her fucking angry.

Who was Loki to determine which way their friendship went? Did he have a problem with her? With Johnny? If so, he should just come out and say it. He should stop just receding into his little corner of Loki miseries and talk to her. Loki and his dumb, pretty face…

She couldn’t be that hard on him. There was something else going on that he wasn’t telling her besides his evident incapability to alert her of anything in his life. Something was very wrong with Loki and Darcy had no idea how to stop it when he kept pushing her away. The more she tried, the harder he pushed.

“We’re here.” Johnny said, his voice tearing Darcy away from her thoughts.

Grace inhaled deeply through her nose and let it slowly out her mouth. “I can do this.”

“You can.” Johnny encouraged. “If worse comes to worst, just go chill with the stoners. I’m sure you guys will have a lot to talk about.”

Grace snorted, elegantly flinging herself out of the car, “Yeah right. I, Johnny Storm, am what they call a professional grower and I do not associate with those plebeians.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, scooting out of the car and adjusting her little black dress so it held her boobs just right. “Grace, you have one plant in a rainbow pot. Calm the fuck down.”

“Not on your life, Lewis.” She said, closing the truck door and gazing up at Ashley’s house. “It still looks the same on the outside as it did when we were kids.”

Johnny wrapped an arm around Darcy’s waist, weaving them in between the numerous cars in the driveway and giving her ass a squeeze. “You guys were friends with Ashley? She doesn’t seem like your type of crowd.”

Darcy shrugged, thinking back to the falling out they’d had last year. It had happened right after Loki’s almost-assassination, so Darcy had already been in a pit of anxiety as it was. The falling out was less of a dramatic break and more of an expected end. She hadn’t been hanging out with Ashley a lot anyways and Grace was always complaining about her. Darcy didn’t have a whole lot of time to stress over the situation.

Grace yelled at Ashley for being a stuck up bitch that only cared about herself and hurt other people to get what she wanted. Darcy had agreed, standing behind her as Ashley ranted on about how it was never the three of them that hung out anymore, it was always just ‘Grace and Darcy’. And of course, Darcy never had any time to do anything anyways, so what was the point in being her friend?

All in all, it was a shit show and Darcy was glad it was done and over with.

Well, that’s how she felt about it. She didn’t know how Ashley felt that she and Grace were Johnny’s plus two.

“Yeah. We were on the same soccer team in middle school.” Darcy commented.

“And you both had the biggest crush on Nick Benedict.” Grace added. “Well, she did. You did until he kissed you.”

Darcy made a face as she recalled her first kiss and Loki teasing her directly afterwards. “’Idiot boy’.” She quoted aloud.

Johnny laughed, “No way, Nick was your first kiss? Was it awful? He’s here tonight, you know. We could always have him get a re-try.”

Grace hooted and Darcy jabbed her boyfriend in the ribs with her elbow. “Not on my life, Johnny Boy.”

They reached the door and before they could open it, someone came tumbling outside, tripping over their shoelaces. Darcy recognized him as Ashley’s younger brother, Franklin. Of course, everyone just called him Foggy.  He was a sophomore, the exact opposite of his older sister, and kind of a sweetie pie. “Hey Foggy.”

Quickly, he stood up, brushing off his jeans sheepishly. “Hey! Grace! Darcy! And…” he hesitated, blinking when he saw who was with them. “Johnny Storm! I was just heading out. Dad and Anna are out tonight…” he looked back at the house and the loud music issuing from it, “…which you could have already guessed. Ashley’ll probably be happy to see you.”

Darcy and Grace shared a look. “Yeaaah. Maybe.”

Grace smirked, “So, where you off to, Foggy? I thought you always stuck around for Ashley’s parties.”

Foggy waved his finger at her. “That was the old Foggy, the new Foggy wants to be a lawyer and needs a clean record. My meddling criminal sister is attempting to ruin my life plans.”

“That’s Ashley for ya.” Grace said bitterly, looking to the house, “Are the stoners present?”

Foggy nodded, “They’ve got the couch in the basement. There’s, like, twelve bongs down there.”

“Fabulous.” Grace said, adjusting her dress once more so her breasts looked extra booblilicious. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go find my people. Darcy, come and find me later. Bye Foggy.”

“Bye Grace.” Foggy waved, smiling cheerily. “Alright, well, I’ll catch you guys later. While you’re in there, you should totally try the guacamole. I made it myself with some super fresh avocados. Also, Ashley broke into Dad’s liquor cabinet. Beware old dude alcohol.”

“Will do, Foggy.” Darcy confirmed happily. “See you around.”

He waved once more before he was off, walking down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. Johnny gazed down at her through squinted eyes.

“What?” she asked.

He cocked a dirty-blonde brow. “You’re friends with Foggy?”

“Sure.” Darcy shrugged. “Why not? He was always nice to Grace and I when we came over.  Grace usually spent more time with Ashley than I did. I’m always super—“

“Busy.” Johnny finished for her, letting go of her waist and jerking his head to the door. “I know. Come on, let’s party.”

Concerned by Johnny’s change in attitude, Darcy followed him inside, instantly making up her mind that the party scene really wasn’t for her. Loud music was playing and people stood around in groups, talking and sipping out of plastic red-solo cups. It was smoky, dimly lit, and smelled strongly of weed. Her palm was sweaty against Johnny’s as he led her through the throng of people to a small group in the living room.

Darcy recognized them from school. Most were senior guys and they all greeted Johnny with wide grins and manly ‘bro’ handshakes. They talked about how great the party was and how Ashley always knew how to get the best booze.

Johnny introduced her with a flourish and all the guys gawked in a way that made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

As Loki’s advisor, she was used to having people stare at her. She frequently gave speeches at festivals and ceremonies, she spoke out at meetings, she danced with special lords on certain occasions…she wasn’t unaccustomed to attention.

But no one ever stared at her like these guys were. Their focus was on her body and her hair, her outfit and the way it made her boobs look. Darcy knew she looked good, and she didn’t have a problem with people admiring how crazy stupid fine she washed up to be. But the fashion in which they stared wasn’t admiration so much as it was a showcase.

And it was Johnny Storm who had put her on display.

“Damn, Lewis, you look fine.” One of his friends said and she didn’t bother to look even remotely flattered.

“I know.” She said with enough bitterness to flavor a coffee bean as she turned away from them. “I’m going to get a drink.”

Johnny pulled her back for a moment to kiss her lips and pinch her ass. She allowed it, hoping her sour attitude soiled the kiss for him. As she walked away, she heard them whistle.

“Damn, Johnny, what devil did you sell your soul to for that?”

“Yeah man, we all knew she had sweater puppies, but Jesus Christ…”

“Darcy Lewis, who knew…”

“She a good fuck?”

Darcy was out of range before she could hear Johnny’s response to any of the questions. She smiled grimly to herself as she thought of how Johnny might answer that last one without lying.

They’d been together four months and thus far they’d only gotten to oral. Darcy was extremely proud of the fact that her first blow job experience was a hit. She seemed to have a natural talent for that particular area of pleasure….amongst other things.

And Johnny wasn’t bad either. Grant it, he wasn’t Sharon Carter. But, to be fair, who could compete with Sharon Carter?

Angrily, Darcy found herself in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water from the refrigerator. She considered drinking a beer, but thought better of it. Drinking was something that most people did on Asgard. She wasn’t looking for an opportunity to get drunk or buzzed. It was imperative that she keep a level head for later that night when Odin’s selective council meeting began. Darcy had to be there to take Loki’s place if he ended up being absent…again.

Irritated with all of the men in her life, Darcy crumpled the red-solo cup in her hand, making angry sounds at it. Mentally, she imagined it was a cross between Loki and Johnny’s heads and she happily squished them into plastic smithereens

“Darcy?”

Darcy whipped around, quickly and with a great deal of casualness, tossing the cup aside. Standing beside the island in the kitchen was her old friend Ashley Nelson.

“Oh, hey Ashley. Fancy seeing you here, seeing as how it is your house and your party.” Darcy rambled awkwardly.

Ashley crossed her freckled arms, her carrot orange hair curled  and falling down around her shoulders. She looked pretty angry. “Yeah. Imagine that. You weren’t invited, Darcy.”

Every inch of her soul seemed to cringe at that moment and she sheepishly rocked back and forth on her heels. “Ah…well…you see, I’m actually somebody’s plus one. So, technically I’m not crashing your party, right?”

Her expression became furious. “Did Johnny bring you?”

“What happens if I answer ‘yes’?” Darcy asked, “Will there be cake?”

Ashley sighed, deflating as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “You really haven’t changed have you?”

“Well,” Darcy said, looking herself up and down, “I wouldn’t say that. I grew some, my boobs got bigger. I guess puberty is good for some things, amiright?”

Ashley shook her head, “I can’t believe he’s still dating you. What’s your secret?”

Darcy blinked stupidly, surprised at the turn of the conversation. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” Ashley said, uncrossing her arms and filling up an empty cup with beer from a keg. “Johnny Storm doesn’t have girlfriends. He has fuckbuddies.”

“Uhhh…” Darcy stared, not knowing what to say. “Okay.”

“God, Darcy, quit being such an idiot.” Ashley told her, gulping down her beer. “He’s using you, can’t you see?”

“Using me?” Darcy asked, trying to think of the last time she felt used. Really, she hadn’t ever until she stepped into this god damned party house.

“For sex, Darcy.” Ashley confirmed, pouring herself another beer that Darcy was sure she didn’t need. “That’s all he wants from you.”

Darcy smirked, filling up another cup of water and cautiously making baby steps towards Ashley. “Okay, well, we haven’t really gotten there yet, but when we do…let the using begin.”

This seemed to shock her old friend and Darcy took the opportunity to exchange the beer in her hand for water. “You haven’t?” she asked, sounding a little like she was going to cry. “At all?”

Darcy shook her head, “I mean, he went down on me a couple times, but—“

Ashley choked on a round of tears Darcy knew were coming. “He did oral?”

“Yeah.” Darcy confirmed as Ashley fell forwards to sob into her cleavage. It was wet and snotty and Darcy wondered if boobs could get mascara stains. Consolingly, she patted the back of Ashley’s head.

“He never gave me oral sex.” She blubbered in response, adding some lipstick to the mess on Darcy’s chest.

“There, there. Cry into my bosom.” Darcy comforted, patting her hair again. “He’s not that great at it anyways.”

She hiccupped and sobbed through a laugh, coming up from air. “I miss you and Grace…You guys…were…my best friends.” She sniffed, “Even if you never could hang out…and Grace only goes second-hand shopping.”

“We can be friends again.” Darcy assured, “You can go make nice with Grace right now. She’s getting stoned in your basement.”

“Okay.” Ashley said quietly, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand. Darcy thought it was kind of cute. “And Darcy…I’m sorry for what I said about you and Johnny. He seems to really like you.”

Darcy grimaced, thinking about her boyfriend in the living room, showing her off to his friends. “I guess so.”

Ashley hesitated a moment before taking her hand, “I mean it. I dated him, at least I thought it was dating, for a while last year. Be careful, alright? Don’t let him hurt you. He could just be waiting to despoil innocent little Darcy.”

“Hey!” Darcy protested, putting her hands on her hips. “I am not innocent little anything!”

Ashley rolled her eyes, reaching behind her to grab a napkin and a cup of water. She began daubing the makeup stains off Darcy’s breasts. “You are to most people. He could just want to take your virginity and move on. I’m not saying that it’s the case, but given Johnny’s track record…”

Darcy frowned, considering that. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like that’s what’s happening.”

“Then it’s probably not.” Ashley assured, setting down the cup. “I’m going to go find Grace.”

After she left, Darcy slumped on the counter and emitted a long, loud groan. Since when were Asgardian politics easier than mortal relationships?

Getting her shit together, Darcy found the will to leave the kitchen and go find Johnny. Or maybe she could go join the stoners in the basement. That could be fun, right?

She pushed through a crowd of people, making her way to the basement door. She coughed a bit, thinking that no amount of organic incense in the world could defeat that smell.

On second thought, maybe she wouldn’t go down there.

Maybe she could go sit on the porch and review her statement for this evening. Maybe she could think of something to say to Loki to make him go to the damn meeting. Maybe she could think about what she could possibly do to make Loki talk to her again. Slapping him in the face might work. Hitting him really hard on the mouth…with her face…specifically her lips...

“Fresh air it is.” Darcy told herself, slowly making her way outside. Sitting down, cross legged on the front porch, she began reciting her statement through for the thousandth time in a hushed tone:

“Congressed High Lords and Ladies of Asgard, l am Advisor Darcy to Prince Loki, here to give his Majesty’s avowal concerning our realm’s position on the impending war with the Vanir.”

She swallowed hard, considering the words of her introduction. How many speeches had she made? How many times had she stood in for Loki or said something in his name? She hadn’t spoken with him in forever; she had no idea which side he favored or if he even cared about their realm.

Their realm.

Had she really just thought that? She was a mortal. Midgard was her home, was it not? She was born there, her parents lived there…

But she couldn’t lie to herself. Midgard wasn’t her home and neither was Asgard. Loki was. And he was being a royal jackass by making her this homesick.

Sniffing against the chill of the night, Darcy continued her statement:

“Prince Loki Odinson believes…” the wind picked up and the frigid air threw her off track. “In abandoning adorable mortals and not cuddling them when they need it most.” She sighed angrily, scrubbing her face with her hands. “Fuck it.”

She didn’t need to be at this party. Why the fuck was she in a relationship anyways? Asgard needed her. Loki needed her, even if he didn’t want her. She barely had enough time for friendships as it was and she didn’t need a boyfriend who used her for all the sex they weren’t having.

Getting to her feet, Darcy opened the door to reveal one of Johnny’s friends from earlier. She couldn’t remember his name, and the look on his face told her she didn’t want to. “Hey, Johnny’s girl. You’re looking good tonight.”

Darcy clenched her jaw, forcing her hands not to shake as she thought back to Taneleer Tivan and his torture. If she could survive intergalactic shock treatment, she could handle some boy’s preconceived sexist notions about her and Johnny.

“I know.” She told him sassily.

“Hey, I didn’t ask for talk, girl. I only said you looked good.” He said, having enough nerve to sound defensive. “You should say thank you. And smile while you’re at it.” He moved in closer, closing the door with one hand while the other reached up to push a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’d look a lot prettier if you smiled.”

Darcy wished she had Tivan’s super-taser so she could make this asshole do a dirt dance. Instead she pushed him away with more force than he was expecting from a girl Darcy’s size. “Hands to yourself, fuckwad. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than dicks like you.”

His back hit the wall and Darcy didn’t stop to register his reaction. She was going to find Grace and then she was making Johnny drive her home. Johnny’s friend obviously had a different plan as he grumbled some shit about how she was going to pay for that, blah blah blah. She kept walking until that idiot mustered up the audacity to grab her arm. Hard. It hurt. He tugged her backwards and Darcy reacted.

For the record, Darcy might not be able to beat Sif one out of seventy-seven times, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t throw a punch. Her dad was a firefighter and her best friend was the Prince of Asgard. She could throw a fucking punch. And Sir Grabby-Hands got a nice big taste of a good ol’ knuckle-sandwich, straight from the Darcy Lewis shop of damn good hits.

“Oh fuck! My nose!”

Darcy felt bad, but not that bad. Based on the brand of his shoes and the keys to a very expensive sports car linked to his belt-loop, his parents had enough money to pay for the hospital fee.

“You’re a crazy bitch!”

“Hey,” Darcy argued, glaring down at the fallen boy. “Listen here, you douche canoe. I am not a crazy bitch. I am a very busy bitch with a lot of fucking shit to do. Like, so much! You don’t even understand how much work I have to do! Sometimes, even I don’t understand it. But believe me when I say that I understand enough to know that I don’t have time to care about your opinion of my face with a smile on it or not! And don’t touch people like that…it’s creepy…and weird. Don’t be creepy and weird.”

Pleased with her statement, Darcy turned on her heel, running face first into her stunned boyfriend. Johnny’s mouth was gaping wide open and his eyes basically screamed ‘what the fuck, Darce’.

She really couldn’t care less.

“I’m getting Grace and then I’m going home.” She told him firmly.

“I’ll come with you.” Johnny agreed quickly, following Darcy as she pushed her way to the stairs, muttering bitterly under her breath all the way. It was only when they reached the basement did she desist, for her train of thought was blown away almost entirely by the sight before her.

Darcy should have known that thirty minutes at a party was long enough for Grace to get into some kind of trouble. She just didn’t expect it to be quite so drastic.

Grace was standing in the center of the room, her arms stretched out in front of her, eyes closed as she felt around the air in front of her. The basement stoners and several other inebriates had gathered round her, hanging onto every word she was saying. At her feet were stacks upon stacks of red solo cups. Ashley was at her side, completely wasted.

“I am channeling the gods. I am the conduit of their word, their mortal concubine, their prophet! And I need all of these cups…” she trailed off, her eyes shooting open as she gazed onto the crowed. “Because cups…should be reused and recycled. Fuck all of your plastic fucking bags…The gods say…”she quieted, head lolling off to the side, “That they hate red-solo cups! And my Queen and I,” she wrapped an arm around Ashley’s shoulders, “Will birth new soil! But first one of has got to fuck someone, because I…have never wanted sex more in my life!”

Johnny was choking back laughter and Darcy had to force herself to keep a straight face. Oh God, Sam was going to kill her.

“Shrooms.” Johnny explained. “Either that or LSD, but Ashley has a rule—“

“I know the rule.” Darcy interrupted, stepping over the wall of red-solo cups to wrap an arm around her friend. “C’mon, Grace.”

“Darcy,” Grace said with a dopey smile, “We should stay.”

“We should go. Psychedelics really aren’t your thing.” Darcy said and Grace pouted.

“You don’t understand, Darce, I am the chosen one. And you are the chosen one. And your hot boyfriend is the chosen one. And your other hot boyfriend is the chosen one.” Grace slurred, reaching down to pick up and armful of red solo cups. “We are all the chosen ones! We can save this planet together!”

Everyone cheered and Ashley leaned on Grace’s shoulder, “Won’t your mom be worried, Grace? Curfew and all that?”

Grace raised a red solo cup and smiled, “The chosen one does not suffer consequence!”

Darcy sighed and turned to her tall, muscular boyfriend. “Johnny, can you…?”

“On it, babe.” He said, immediately picking Grace up bridal style, red solo cups and all. He grunted a little bit, as she wiggled to keep hold of her plastic nemeses. “She is heavier than she looks.”

Darcy led them out to the car while Grace went on about the economic implications of manufacturing red-solo cups and even cried at one point about landfills. By the time they were on the road, Grace was lying in her pile of plastic cups in Johnny’s backseat, blabbering about whatever came into her head.

Meanwhile, Darcy and Johnny’s conversation was at level zero, just because Darcy had so much going on in her head. There was a heavy weight in her chest, bearing down on her sanity. She really just wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. She felt starved of non-sexual physical contact.

“Darcy,” Grace called from the backseat, “Bring me a man.”

Johnny chuckled and Darcy smiled just a teensy bit, “Go find your own man, Grace.”

“Grace, how much did you take?” Johnny asked, looking at her in his rearview mirror.

“Some.” Grace answered tiredly, “Darcy, why can’t you call Loki? He would totally have sex with me, right? He’s hot. And he’s got great cheekbones. And remember that time, I went over to your house that morning and he was in your bed? How do your parents not know about that?”

“Oh fuck me running.” Darcy muttered as Johnny’s face fell and Grace giggled, continuing to talk on.

Her now slightly perturbed looking boyfriend opened his mouth to speak and Darcy shook her head. “Loki is a friend of mine. Just a friend.”

“If he’s just a friend then why did Grace find him in your bed?” Johnny asked angrily and Darcy had the urge to laugh. Out of everything that could have made Darcy and Loki more than friends, sharing a bed was the last thing Darcy would consider and indicator.

Thankfully, Grace spoke up from the backseat, “No, Johnny Boy, don’t be mad. That was a year ago. And we were all sure Darcy was gay until she started dating you. She was with this college babe over the summer.”

“Thank you, Grace Wilson, for your commentary on my sex life this evening, would you care to shut your baked ass up?” Darcy snapped and Grace giggled like a mad woman, sinking down into her cups.

Johnny looked considerably more relaxed, but still on edge. “Darcy…you…what? You’re gay?”

Darcy kneaded her brow exasperatedly, “No. No, I’m not. Johnny—“

“But you’ve been with a girl?”

“Duh.” Grace said from the backseat.

Darcy’s heart was racing and she couldn’t quite figure out why. Her insides seemed to quiver with gut wrenching apprehension. She wanted Loki. Not the sorry, lost Loki that ignored her. She wanted her Loki.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Johnny asked, sounding in what Darcy could only decipher as offense.

She frowned, the beginning of madness stirring under her stress. “You always talk about your past relationships.”

“When did this become about me?”

“Since you decided that you ought to know who I’ve been with.”

“I just thought we were open with each other, Darce! I thought we were honest!”

Darcy choked on something that may or may not have been guilt. It wasn’t like she could tell Johnny about Asgard or Loki without giving away a good half of her life. Swallowing potential tears, Darcy batted the guilt away.

“Honesty doesn’t have anything to do with you knowing who I’ve been with!” she argued.

“Bullshit! Are you hiding something? I tell you everything, Darcy!”

She groaned, crossing her arms. “Yeah, Johnny. I know you fucking tell me everything. I have to hear about almost every girl you’ve ever even thought about sticking your dick in. So, you’ll pardon me if I don’t care to return the favor.”

Johnny snorted incredulously, “Oh. Come on, Darcy. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It doesn’t matter to me how you meant it.” Darcy said slumping against the door in defeat. “And the only thing I’m hiding is how bad a wedgie I have right now and I’m doing a damn fine job at it.”

Grace cackled from the backseat as Johnny parked in the Wilson’s driveway. Once he parked, Darcy opened the car door to help her friend out. Grace stumbled, dropping her red-solo cups when she tried to carry an arm-full to the front door.

                                                               ***

Johnny watched Sam Wilson answer the door and give his sister and Darcy a disapproving look. Grace offered him a red solo cup sadly and Sam smirked, wrapping an arm around his sister while Darcy explained, her hands flying everywhere as she spoke.

Shaking his head, Johnny reached inside his pocket for a cigarette. He didn’t smoke often and almost never around Darcy, but tonight was rough.

How the fuck could he have messed things up with Darcy? Johnny Storm was convinced this girl was the best thing to ever happen to him. She was smarter, hotter, and funnier than anyone ever gave her credit for.

One might think that by second semester of his senior year of high school, guys would realize that there’s more to a girl than the size of her tits. But they hadn’t. They teased Johnny about how he was fucking Darcy Lewis; that quirky junior with the sweater puppies.

Johnny remembered a time when he was exactly like them, and something told him he would still be like them if not for Darcy. She was so different from everyone else he was used to hanging out with.

Not in the sense that she dressed different, or that she looked different. She was average in both regards if you set aside her breath-taking good looks. But she was sassy and Johnny was beginning to believe she was a genius to some extent.

It was hard to notice at first how much was actually going on inside Darcy’s mind. She didn’t brag about all that she could do or even what she was always so busy with. She was so smart and in the four months they’d been dating, Johnny had only seen a portion of it.

He knew she spoke fluent Spanish and French, but she’d only taken a couple years of each class.  She had no trouble with any kind of math, but she always hurried to finish her homework right before the bell rang.

Those were the obvious things, but then there were other actions that were just uniquely Darcy.

Like her confidence. She didn’t flaunt anything because she didn’t need to. He couldn’t describe it. He couldn’t tell if her self-assurance spurred from her body or her intelligence, but Darcy was very comfortable with being...well...Darcy. She always seemed to know what she was doing.

It showed in their recent argument. Everything he said she took as just another thing to deal with in the busy life of Darcy Lewis.

It made him mad. Not in the sense that she was always busy or that he didn’t know what it was, but rather that she didn’t tell him. She didn’t think something as important as her only relationship had been with a woman or that she let her male friend sleep in her bed.

Maybe those things weren’t so important. Maybe Johnny was just overreacting. He’d made a mistake taking her to Ashley’s party. Honestly, Johnny was a bit bored of the high school party scene. Someone’s older brother gives them a keg, someone else gets their hands on enough weed to call it a party. Johnny was ready for the real deal. He didn’t want to take Darcy to a party because he necessarily enjoyed them.

The true reason he wanted to take her is something he ought to be ashamed of.

To put it bluntly, he wanted his friends to see Darcy as a super sexy girl that didn’t deserve their teasing. It wasn’t like they made fun of her. More or less they just teased Johnny over having a thing for nerds. But Darcy wasn’t a nerd at all….

Okay, she was a bit of a nerd. But he liked that part of her just as much as he liked the other parts of her. She had come to mean so much to him and all his friends could see was some chick with glasses and a nice rack. The only way she would ever mean more to them is if she was dressed up and put on display. Johnny knew how their minds worked, he used to be like them, he would still be like them if not for Darcy.

So that’s what he did. And what does Darcy do? She punches someone in the nose. He didn’t know whether to be proud or worried. Maybe both.

Fuck. Since when does Johnny Storm question himself in a relationship?

Since Darcy Fucking Lewis, that’s when.

At first, Johnny only wanted to date her for the T&A. Who could blame him, really? He offered, almost jokingly, and she declined in the same humor.

After hanging out with her, joking around in Physics, catching up with her on her way to class, Johnny felt like he could totally take her on a date first.

As time went on, Johnny considered two dates, meeting her parents, and then having the best fuck of his life.

Now he was questioning whether or not he could actually have sex with Darcy.

Don’t get him wrong, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to. But he was convinced that having sex with Darcy would majorly fuck up their relationship.

What if they did it and Darcy started thinking the only thing he wanted from her was sex? What if they did it and she didn’t like it? Would she revert to being gay? Would she look different if she was gay? Is that how that worked?  Maybe they could solve it with a threesome. But what if the threesome made Darcy think that Johnny liked that other girl more than he liked her? What if the threesome turned her gay again? They couldn’t do a threesome.

What was he talking about? They hadn’t even had sex.

Well, they had oral. That had been a lot of fun. Darcy had some serious DSLs. Thank every deity ever for Darcy’s mouth. And her tits.

And the rest of her. Because as great as all those things were about her, it was still mostly the fact that Darcy was the one giving him head that made the experience so magical.

Bitterly, he took a long draw from his cigarette. Sam Wilson looked to Johnny briefly then back at Darcy with concern. Johnny snorted. He wasn’t that bad. His reputation made him sound a lot worse than he already was. He never got anyone pregnant and the only time he’d ever fucked anyone under the bleachers was in his Freshman year. And it was a mistake. Kinda.

Darcy made a face, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, saying something Johnny couldn’t quite hear. Sam looked slightly taken back and Johnny wondered if she had defended him. Would she do that? Even after they fought?

Sam helped Grace inside and Darcy made her way back to his truck. She slipped inside, immediately turning up the heat. Johnny took off his jacket and offered it to her. She took it and looked at him with those big blue eyes that threatened to tear him to pieces. Her gaze landed on his smoke and her expression softened immensely.

“It’s okay, Johnny, I’m not mad.” She said, putting on his jacket. He liked the way it looked on her. “Pissed off, maybe. But not mad.”

He exhaled, a gust of smoke billowing from his mouth. “I’m sorry, Darce. About tonight and about the girls, I didn’t know it bothered you. I won’t do it anymore. I just…”

“C’mon, Johnny. I’m sorry. I was being a bit of an ass before. Over the summer, I was with a girl named Sharon. It wasn’t very serious. We went skinny dipping once. Loki has been my best friend forever. He was in a rough spot with his dad so I let him sleep in my bed.” She said, taking the cigarette from between his fingers and flicking it out the window. “You only do that when you’re stressed. It’s fine. We should talk about the party though.”

He huffed, thinking over what she told him. Maybe they both were being a bitchy. Maybe it was better to talk about it.  A dull ache in his chest reminded him of why he liked Darcy so much. She knew things about him; she cared about him. She wasn’t like his dad who, even as a doctor, liked to spend his evenings gambling. Or Sue who was always too busy to notice anything her baby brother did besides fuck half the school. They used to pay him some mind, but they stopped after his mom died. After that, they didn’t really know anything that went on in his life.

But Darcy knew. She knew he smoked when he was stressed and that his aspiration to be an Astronaut was more than just a childhood dream.

“Darce?”

“Yeah?” she replied, zipping up his coat.

He shifted in his seat to face her, “Can we go someplace? Not a party, just me and you. I want to show you someplace. We can talk there.”

Darcy nodded, angling the heat vents to blow on her legs. “Yeah. That’s cool. As long as I’m home before midnight.”

Johnny started the car and reversed out of Grace’s driveway.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted to go. Just a few turns and a trip down a familiar dirt road. He stopped near a riverside, the moon reflecting off the water surface, an old dock extending off the shore.

Darcy took in the landscape. “Nice. We setting the scene for something?”

Johnny chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “No. I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how my friends treated you.”

He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe that she would accept his apology and they could put this behind them.

Only, that didn’t happen. Her eyebrows came together and she focused on the rippling current of the river at night. “I don’t want you to apologize for your friends.”

He waited anxiously, really wishing she’d just say what he did wrong so he could fix it.

“Why did you want me to go to this party, Johnny?” Darcy asked, looking over to him. “Don’t bullshit me, either. You know they’re not really my scene and I know that you’re bored of them nowadays.”

Johnny let his head fall back against the seat. Chances were, Darcy already knew why he wanted her to go to the party, she just needed confirmation. “I wanted them to see you as…I don’t know…more, I guess.” He looked at her hurt expression and hurried to correct himself. “Not that I think you need to be more. Darcy I see you as...everything. You’re, like, the Angelina Jolie to my Brad Pitt.”

“Oh baby,” she said with a sarcastic pout, “You left Jennifer Anniston for me? How sweet.”

He tried not to laugh at that. “Okay, dumb analogy. We’d have way more children anyways. But, Darcy, the things they say about you…it’s awful. It’s like…everything you do, all those funny things you say or the way you talk…they don’t see you as the kind of person I do. To them, you might be smart, but the only value you have to them is T&A.”

Darcy raised her eyebrows and nodded like this wasn’t a surprise or some kind of revelation to her. “I think the term you’re looking for is ‘sexism’ and I’m here to tell you that I have seen it many times.”

“Darcy—“

She opened her car door, “Come on, Johnny. Let me show you something.”

Verging on shock, Johnny got out of the car, following his girlfriend to the shoreline where there was a view of the night sky shining down on them. She took his hand in hers, linking their fingers as she pointed to the sky. “Do you see that?”

“See what?” Johnny asked, following her finger to the stars.

“The stars.” She said with a sigh, “They’re so close when you look at how big the universe is, you know? Because the universe is a big fucking place.”

“Okay,” Johnny agreed hesitantly, “What about it?”

She smirked, turning to him, the moonlight making her hair shine. “I’ve got a lot of fucking things to deal with in this world plus some, Johnny Storm. I could care less about what a group of sexist boys think about me.”

Johnny frowned. “I know you don’t care, but I do, Darcy. They shouldn’t see you like that! They should…”

“They should see every person equally. They should see every girl for who she is and every boy for who he is. They should stop wasting their money on red-solo cups and invest in elephant poop ones. They should stop smoking, get rid of their guns and become pacifists doing humanitarian work in Uganda.” Darcy said, squeezing his hand tightly, urging him to hear her words. “It isn’t just those boys that think that way. It’s a large part of the way people live and there are ways to stop it. But dressing me up and taking me out as your sexy fuck-puppet isn’t going to do anything for them or society. Especially since we aren’t actually fucking.”

Johnny’s heart thudded almost uncomfortably as he nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“All is forgiven.” She said, stepping in closer to wrap her arms around his shoulders, angling her face so their noses touch. “I like you, Johnny Storm. But don’t do it again.”

They kissed and Johnny felt like he melted into her. She forgave him? She didn’t slap him or yell at him or break up with him. He felt that this was how relationships were supposed to go. That they should just…talk. He felt lucky…no, honored, to be kissing her. Maybe a god somewhere messed up and that’s why Darcy was even bothering with him. She saw past his friends’ icky facades, which meant she could see past his. If that was so, if she could see past his looks and flirtiness, what did he have that she liked?

The kiss ended and Johnny Storm wrapped his arms around her, “Fuck, Darcy, I—“

He cut himself off, unbelieving of what he’d almost said. The “L” word. He wouldn’t do that, would he? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Yeah?” she asked, standing on her toes to kiss him again. Her lips were soft and warm and her kisses a little wet.

He got lost in them, letting his hands slip down to squeeze her ass and hold her hips closer to his. “Nothing.”

Her tongue flicked against his bottom lip and in return he deepened their kiss for a few seconds when she slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt.

“Darcy,” he said through her kisses, “Are you sure?”

She pulled away, giving him a questioning look. “Yeah. I am. Are you?”

“Yeah.” His answer came immediately and her lips went to his again. After a moment he pulled away. “Okay, maybe not.”

Darcy gave him a look, one eyebrow shooting into her hairline. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She said, turning around and getting into his truck.

What the hell was ‘okay’ supposed to mean? Why couldn’t things be simple?

Johnny got in the driver’s side and tried not to feel like he just threw away possibly the best sexual experience of his life. “Darcy, it’s not you.”

She took off her glasses, rubbing one of the lenses, her tongue poking out as she did so. “I didn’t think it was. I mean, not to insinuate anything, but it was pretty clear little Johnny totally has a thing for me.”

Johnny really couldn’t argue with that and he laughed at her ridiculous phrasing. “That’s true.”

One of her hands held his, “You don’t have to tell me.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning across the gap between them to peck her lips. “It’s really dumb.”

“I don’t doubt it.” She teased, “Let your seat back.”

Johnny did as she said, distancing himself from the steering wheel, allowing space for Darcy to straddle his lap. As sexy as it was, Darcy somehow made it…less so. It was more comforting than anything.

Clearing his throat, he nodded to the river. “My dad used to take me fishing here as a kid, before, well…”

Darcy waited, her hands on either of his shoulders, her wide, inquisitive eyes set on his.

“Before my mom died. After that he’s been…” Johnny trailed off, thinking of the right word. “Despondent.” He sighed, letting his head fall against her chest. It felt safe to do so.  “I like to come here sometimes.”

“Shit, Johnny.” Darcy sighed, lightly scraping her fingers against his scalp. “I came onto you in your nostalgia-hideout.”

He chuckled, not lifting his head. Not yet.

She settled her cheek atop his head. “You don’t talk much about your parents.”

“I don’t really want to start either.” He said, tone peppered with slight aggression. There was no way he was getting into that shit.

“Chill,” she said, leaning on her heels to kiss his lips. “You don’t have to. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Johnny Storm, but I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”

He cocked a brow, “My television remote and hours I’ve spent watching South Park with no pretzels because you refused to share tells me otherwise.”

She grinned, ear to ear, “Those things don’t count.”

“You made me eat tofu that one time.”

Darcy scoffed, “You can’t go your whole life without at least trying tofu.”

Not smiling would have been impossible if he ever decided he wanted to stop. They kissed, over and over again, the windows of the car fogging up as their breaths came quicker and Johnny struggled to keep his hips planted to the seat. He found himself needing to touch her, trailing his fingers up her legs, squeezing the backs of her thighs.

Finally they broke apart, Darcy touching her forehead to his. “Johnny, if we’re not having sex in here, you’ve gotta stop that.”

Johnny felt as though he deserved some otherworldly prize for turning on Darcy Lewis. He wanted to continue. He wanted to give this girl everything. But he had a few reasons why right now would be a bad idea.

“Darce, you have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now.” Johnny said, wondering if it was unhealthy for one’s balls to be this blue.

She pursued her lips, rocking her hips against the bulge in his pants. “You know, I’m not a scientist most of the time, but that might give me a pretty good idea.”

“Ha ha,” he said, reaching between them to make some adjustments. “There are actually a few good reasons why this isn’t the best plan.”

“I can think of a few, but let’s hear yours first.” Darcy said, bending her neck to press light kisses to his throat.

“Well, first of all,” Johnny said, moving his hands to cup her ass. As long as he was suffering, he might as well do it with a handful of ass. “The only condom I have is the one in my wallet and I literally haven’t changed it in three months. It might be expired. Also, my back pocked it not room temperature. It’s ass temperature. Two entirely different things. Under normal circumstances, I’d say ‘just the tip’ but I think I’d cry if that happened. It’s all or nothing at this point.”

“Hmm,” Darcy said, sucking hard on his pulse. “I have an IUD.”

Johnny froze, looking up at her. “What?”

“Hormones are a bitch,” she explained, “I was on the pill, but taking them made my boobs hurt. I got a non-hormonal IUD instead.”

“No shit.” Johnny said as she moved to the other side of his neck. “Okay. I have another reason.”

“Lay it on me.”

Johnny swallowed, trying not to lose it in his pants. He hadn’t done it yet, he wasn’t about to. “You’re a virgin.”

Darcy pulled away, giving him a look. “I’m not a virgin.”

“You’re not a vagina-virgin. You’re a dick-virgin.” Johnny told her factually as she snorted in disbelief.

“What kind of reasoning is that?”

“The kind that says how lesbian sex doesn’t involve a penis. It’s different.” Johnny said knowledgably.

Darcy crossed her arms, “I bet you have lots of experience with lesbian sex.”

“What can I say?” Johnny said, “Pornography has taught me many things.”

“I’m starting to think sex with you may not be as fantastic as I believed it would be.” Darcy questioned in what he hoped was a joking tone.

Johnny held up his hands in defense, “Hey, let’s not be hasty. I’m just saying that it’s your first time with a guy. And it would be our first time together. It should be, like, I don’t know, special or some shit.”

Darcy smiled, ruffling his hair, “Aw, does Johnny want our first time to be special?”

He grabbed her hand, biting her palm gently. “Yeah, Lewis, he does. We should have dinner first.”

“Or I could be dinner.” Darcy suggested airily, “Just saying.”

“You’re desert, babe.” He countered.

Darcy seemed to consider this for a moment. “Will there be candles?”

“Absolutely.”

She let out a gust of air through puffed cheeks. “Fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Johnny applauded his own restraint by not busting a nut in his pants as she wiggled out of his lap. “Something tells me my way isn’t happening tonight?”

Darcy nodded and Johnny tried not to be disappointed. “It’ll have to be a surprise. Take me home, Hot Stuff. I’ve got shit to do tonight that isn’t you, unfortunately.”

Johnny stuck the key into his truck’s ignition attempting to mentally force the blood back into his brain. “It’s a damn shame.”

“I’ll say. I much prefer your dick to the assholes I’ve got to deal with tonight.” Darcy said, propping her bare feet up on the dash.

“Who are you seeing tonight?” Johnny asked, shocked that she mentioned anything about her evening plans. Usually, he couldn’t get anything out of her.

She gave him a sideways glance. “I’m standing in for one of two princes of a space kingdom because I’m his advisor. Tonight I will be abstaining his vote for him. I will also be trying to convince his brother, the Crowned Prince, fighting two sides of a realm, beating them into bloody submission is a terrible idea. All the while, the princes’ father, the king, is going to stare at me with his one eye like I am personally responsible for anything bad that ever happened.” She said pausing to breathe.

“And then,” she held up a finger, talking to the windshield rather than him, “On my way out, some guy with a Weird Beard is going to look at me like death is afoot in my near future. Later, I will go speak with the Queen of said space kingdom, and she will give me lessons on how to help her lead an underground spy program in her realm.”

Johnny cleared his throat, turning on the car engine. “Okay, I get it. You don’t want to tell me. Your story isn’t even remotely believable. Any prince would have made you his princess by now.”

She sighed exasperatedly, “One might think. But that’s a whole other realm I’m not even prepared to set foot in. Onward.”

                                                               ***

Loki wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it.

His search for infinity stones had become a hunt. It was life or death, and those ridiculous stones…they were the balm to his wounded flesh, marred and scarred by his continuous failures.

There were several things Loki wanted to accomplish and he feared that he only had so long to do them. His life no longer felt as though it would go on forever if he only gave Idunn the word. He no longer felt like he had time to spare. He had an indefinite amount of his life remaining, for he had discovered that his sanity and soul were linked by a lifeline to a mortal girl.

No physical line existed, no magical connection. What he felt was disgustingly sentimental and purely of heart. But he would curse himself to Hel if the pain wasn’t as terrible.

Numerous things were keeping him from Darcy, even as her friend.

Atop the list were the Infinity Stones and the damned Celestial, may it rest in the darkest pits of Nilfheim for eternity.

The map was no longer a great enigma for Loki; he knew it well enough by now to understand that not much more could come of it. And because his magic had begun to manifest at a much quicker pace, he decided he would seek them on his own.

Danger was something Loki was becoming more familiar with.

While he and Darcy faced threats head on, as most Asgardians did, he quickly found that he must trade tactics. He could not simply walk into any place as a prince, declare its occupants his subjects and request a rare and powerful item. He was the God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies. It was his calling to get things his way and on his own terms. He need only exercise the proper means.

He wasn’t sleeping. No matter how much he tried, his bed, nor his desk, nor any chair, floor or pillow felt like Darcy’s bed and no memory could fill the absence of her friendship.  He was alone. By choice, yes, but alone nonetheless. Due to this, he used his nights for his journeys.

Being a prince, he knew the existence of several inter-realm treasures. He knew the light elves prided themselves on soul magic and the dwarves built temples for worshiping different rocks in honor of the gods.  Covered by the darkness of night, he would locate the treasures of the Nine Realms, seek out lost jewels and precious items.

He uncovered legends, dug up tombs, risked his life for dust and rocks and still wasn’t any closer to doing what the Celestial prophecy claimed.

Well, at least the part that involved capturing all of the Infinity Stones. As for the end, Loki could not disagree.

“A shadow.” He said to himself, watching Jörmungandr slither around the bookshelves, happily looking on the inside of every cover. “The insignificant.”

Loki scrubbed a hand over his face, slamming his book shut. It was a collection of Elven tales about mystic trees and wicked water spirits. He was chasing stories; seeking out myths and legends that didn’t exist. It was dangerous.

He couldn’t tell Darcy of what he was doing; she would disapprove and worry over him. He did not wish for Darcy to have any more concern for him than she had in the past. The oncoming war with Vanaheim was taking up a great portion of her time. She need not waste her energy on him as well.

The other reason Loki distanced himself from Darcy Lewis had to do with his feelings for her.

He loved her more dearly and more uniquely than he had loved anyone before. She was worth everything to him.

But she was being romanced by that Idiot Boy, Johnny Storm.

Some short time ago, Loki waited in Darcy’s room, prepared to bring her to Asgard. She said she would be home at eight.

An hour later, after she had not arrived, Loki was on edge, prepared to go after her. Darcy was hardly ever late. Her absence shook him to his core, threatening to wean out even the tiniest sliver of hope.

It was strange how one too many near death experiences could lead him to fretting over her absence  like an ill mother hen. He assured himself that she was most likely passing the time with Idiot Boy and had entirely forgotten about Asgard for the time being.

Comfortable in this thought, he magicked himself to the Storm Household. Darcy’s mother’s car sat in the driveway and Darcy stood inside with Johnny Storm while he struggled over a ridiculous declaration of his feelings for her. Perhaps Loki was all too satisfied when Darcy did not notice the weight of Idiot Boy’s words. Perhaps she did not reciprocate.

It made Loki angry, even so. Angry and powerless to do anything about it. Johnny Storm did not deserve Darcy’s love. He didn’t know her; he didn’t know the extent of her abilities. That Idiot Boy didn’t know the first thing about Darcy’s mind or how she looked when she cried, he didn’t know about what her hair looked like when she woke up or that little noise she made when he appeared out of nowhere to make her jump. Loki doubted that the Idiot Boy even knew what Darcy looked like without her make-up.

And yet, despite his stupidity on all things Darcy Lewis related, the Idiot Boy was already falling in love with her.

Loki felt as if there should be some law, some force of nature that prevented such a thing from happening.

However, Johnny Storm made Darcy happy, and he could not ever deny Darcy happiness of any brand.  Not that he had any say in whether or not Darcy courted the Idiot Boy anyhow.

Loki sighed, leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t put her in danger again. And with the responsibility of the universe in his hands, how could he truly keep her safe when she was so close to him?

He had lived his life as a prince, studying the sacrifices he would make as a king and the things he must do for his realm. It wasn’t until after he met Darcy and ventured the expanse of Yggdrasil that he decided he truly did not want the throne. Why would he want the weight of Asgard’s problems when he could spend eternity learning and practicing magic, uncovering undiscovered secrets of the universe with Darcy at his side?

The Celestial reminded him why.

He was capable. Loki had the ability to collect the Infinity Stones. He knew enough about them and was powerful enough to handle them without setting the known universe to ruin.

But it was not just his magical strengths that Loki believed led him to his current position. It was his understanding of sacrifice; theoretically, he understood the cost of power.

Unlike many, Loki had years to learn the art of ruling. Millennia passed, his childhood years devoted purely to being the best that he could be, trying to equate to Thor’s mightiness with his mind.  Loki didn’t learn how to rule, to be King of Asgard, to do right by his people. He didn’t do it for them or even the sake of the Nine Realms. He did it so that everyone might think he was just as good as his brother. He did it to earn respect when he had no other means to.

And always he was Thor’s shadow.

Loki had never been willing to fully commit to his position. He always had hope that his insignificance on Asgard would free him and he would no longer be needed in the court. He and Darcy could always retire to Midgard or travel from realm to realm. She could become an ambassador of sorts for Earth after a few hundred years. She made sure he was not a shadow. She was his light, casting away all darkness.

Loki wasn’t Thor’s shadow with Darcy. He was himself.  And since she had entered his life, Loki had almost forgotten about his loneliness. He forgot what it was like to spend days alone, hardly speaking to anyone. His world was silent without her voice or her music or her soft snores. But their trip outside of Yggdrasil had brought to light how very dangerous the stones were.

The Celestial handing the Power Stone over to him had summoned a deadly assassin, willing to kill him to obtain it.

Mention of the stones were enough to bring torture upon Darcy.

According to the Celestial, it was his destiny, his fate and future to find the Infinity Stones.

Yet, it was no mere prophecy that urged him with such ferocity to find them.

It was Darcy.

She was too smart for her own good. She’d made her mark around the Nine Realms. More people knew her as Advisor Darcy than they did as Darcy Lewis. Her face and name were associated with him and he had no shortage of enemies as of late.  Neither the Nine Realms nor the Galaxy were safe for her. With all the love he had for that insistent, bold little mortal, he could not allow her to live in a place where people were willing to kill for powerful rocks.

They had been so careless before, sure that so few knew about the Infinity Stones that none would recognize their attempts to seek them out. Darcy was a target to anyone with enough sense to notice the extent of their escapades.

He must locate the Infinity Stones. For Darcy.

Jörmungandr had ceased his browsing and had come to curl himself around Loki’s shoulders. He’d even begun spending less time with his animal friends. Jörmungandr had not gone unharmed in the Galaxy and Fenrir seemed, in part, emotionally traumatized by the event. He’d gotten quieter. Loki did not wish to lose his other companions, choosing to go on his Infinity Stone quests alone.

He had another trip planned that night. The Elven legends claimed there was a tree in the Dark Wood, the cold, dark and desolate quarter of Alfheim where only the creatures bred there could see. Any fool that stepped foot inside was considered dead.

Loki couldn’t keep track of the number of times he’d almost died in the past few months and he could hardly be bothered to care. He felt hardened against death. How terrible could it truly be? Whether it be the light of the Valkyries to welcome him away from this world or the dark pits of Hel, surely death could not be worse than his current state.

But he wouldn’t see Darcy again if he died. At least not for a very long time. Whatever life he was in he would find her, but that could take an eternity.

He wondered if he should go see her now. No doubt she was finishing up a late night meeting, trudging back to her rooms with her exhausted eyes and tired mouth. He imagined a time when they would have been searching for one another, and when they’d found each other, Loki would hold her hand, Darcy would lean into his side as his magical presence washed over her.

Going to her now would be a mistake. Reconnecting with her as he was would earn him a fight. It was impossible that Darcy would accept his decision to keep her out of his search, especially without her knowing. She would tell him it was stupid and that she loved him. She would be angry, but eventually she might allow his affection. For her, he would have to stop hunting Infinity Stones.

Inhaling deeply, he made up his mind it was time to go and as he stood, someone spoke behind him. “Your Highness.”

Oh gods, he did not need this now. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to will the oncoming threat away, preferring solitude to her sick attempt at charm.

He heard Lorelei take a step closer to him, her presence burning in his mind like a fire. “I have a message from the Allfather.”

Loki grit his teeth, deciding there would be a delay in his plans this evening. He had been adamantly deserting his duties; no doubt the Allfather was irked by his misbehaviors. But why he should send Lorelei after him was a mystery. Jaw clenched and muscles tensed, he turned to her.

Lorelei was a Lady, in every sense of the word. She was beautiful, confident, soft spoken, and entirely invested in being the Crowned Prince’s bride. And in Loki’s childish, raging need to hide his love for Darcy, he claimed Lorelei in a way he wished he never had. Publicly he kissed her in front of his father, mother, brother, several high lords, an ambassador of Vanaheim and, of course, Darcy. His intentions had been to make Darcy jealous and Lorelei was a willing channel for his purpose.

In this sightless, stupid action, he had not taken into account that a prince’s favor, however brief, was to improve her status by some degree. If a commoner were to be seen having tea with the Queen, they would not simply be a commoner any longer.

Lorelei was a lady, though her father was still just a Lord, she was bold. She had done a great deal more interacting with people outside of the palace than some. A few of the ladies always made time to go out rather than stroll the halls of the palace all day. They were allowed to, unlike Sigyn whose parents demand she be kept out of harm’s way.

Lorelei was social, she practiced some magic, and she was notorious. Loki could smell mischief on her, though it was not a pleasant scent. From what Darcy told him, she was cleverer than many of the other ladies and she had come close to initiating courtship with Thor before the Allfather declared his engagement to Sigyn. Since then she had been fighting to win over his hand through rising in her unofficial social status.

And what better way to do that then through Thor’s younger brother. He remembered kissing her and wanted to cringe. Her magic was unpracticed and weak, her red hair was a dying fire that left her lips tasting like ash, her eyes sought the golden prince while her heart sought his future title, and her current stance was to stand as a temptress before the shadow.

Her dress was gray, cut to accentuate her thin, athletic form and display her small breasts. Loki met her eyes, simultaneously wishing for her to vanish and to step closer.

She proceeded with the latter and Loki felt his blood thicken, refusing to cycle his body. It hurt. “Lady Lorelei, deliver your message.”

She pouted at his abruptness and took two coy steps towards him. “You seem tense, Loki.”

Her casual use of his name brought anger to his veins, reviving his dying blood. “I am your prince, and I have not granted you permission to address me as you have.”

For a moment, her true emotions shone and Loki was pleased with her fear. Perhaps he was a monster, no better than the Jotunar, to feel that way. “My apologies, Your Highness. Formality abandoned me for the moment. My Prince, in your presence, my sense is all but lost.”

“Formality is your falsehood.” Loki told her quietly as she came close enough that he could smell the soap in her fiery red hair. It masked the scent of smoke only just. “What message do you bring?”

Her smirk was impish, her gait suggestive. She didn’t answer his question. “Advisor Darcy has not been at your attendance as often as she once was. An Advisor ought to be there for her Prince, don’t you think? Although…” she trailed off, raising her hand as if to push a lock of his hair away from his face. “…I suppose we all get bored. Perhaps she has moved on.”

Loki caught her hand before she could touch him, glaring down at her with barely suppressed rage. “Insult my advisor again and I will have you stripped of your name, Lady Lorelei.”

She kept her hand in his, tilting her head to the side to look him curiously up and down. At last, she relented, bowing her head in an apology. “Forgive me, Your Highness. The Allfather summons you to his study.”

Loki grimaced, wondering how long Odin intended to lecture him. With a sigh and a wave of his hand, his reading materials were stowed and he was walking down the aisle, away from Lorelei. He spoke to her as he left. “You’re dismissed.”

What could Odin truly do to him now? Yell? Bang his staff? Threaten to raze Yggdrasil? Marry him off like Thor? Forbid him from leaving the palace for a few seasons?

Several possible punishments ran through Loki’s head and he considered any of which he might actually care about. All options made him angry as he contemplated the consequence of ignoring his father’s summons.

As appealing as running off to the dark Elven forests seemed, avoiding the inevitable was to escape the future.

The Einherjar outside Odin’s study bowed to him, opening the ornate golden doors.

The Allfather himself stood by the window, overlooking the glittering Asgardian sky. Night had captured the city and Loki was terribly aware of how ignorant the sleeping Asgardian citizens were. They knew nothing about the Infinity Stones or evil collectors with painful death wishes. They did not know what it was like to love a mortal.

And neither did Odin.

“Allfather.” Loki said, silently daring his father to look at him. No matter how angry Odin may be, he could not match Loki’s rage.

Odin waited for a moment, his back and golden cape to his youngest son. “You were not at tonight’s meeting.”

Loki blinked at him innocently, cocking his head to the side, seemingly in thought. “Was I not?  I can’t recall…”

The Allfather continued as if Loki hadn’t spoken. “You have been absent from every event, social, political or otherwise in the past season.”

“Did you miss me?” Loki asked wittily, his fists tightening at his sides.

“This evening I called together each of the High Lords and Ladies to gather a consensus as to what they believed Asgard’s course of action should be regarding the war with Vanaheim.” Odin said hollowly, turning to the dark haired prince in nothing less than disgust. “You were not there to give your statement. Rather your common, disreputable advisor. A girl with no family, no history, and no title but the one you gave her, stated your abstention from the decision concerning the potential beginning of the next Great War.”

Dismissively, Loki feigned boredom. “I am sure you’ll find Advisor Darcy puts my beliefs to words well enough.”

Odin gave a short, humorless, laugh. “Oh? You think so? That girl who talks like the world is her companion? You have her taking your responsibilities as a Prince of Asgard! And I dare say she is doing a better job!”

Loki ground his teeth, his bitter sardonic tone increasing with Odin’s insult to his friend. “Have I? Perhaps you are right. She ought to be a princess.”

Gungnir bashed against the ground and Loki tasted energy radiating from him. “Be serious, boy! This goes beyond your own selfish agenda. Asgard is on the verge of war and you do not have the decency to take responsibility for the good of Yggdrasil!”

Loki could have laughed at his father’s obliviousness. He couldn’t know the truth of Loki’s extraneous activities. His ignorance would protect Loki from discovery. For while he believed and projected his youngest son’s egotistical nature, Loki could be free to do what he must. It was better Odin thought badly of him. What did Loki care anyhow? What did it matter to him how his father thought of him? His opinion could hardly become worse than it already was.

But in the most twisted and revolting way, Loki wanted his approval. He wanted to be the Prince he ought to be, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t selfless enough to be a decent prince. He never really liked the work to begin with, and now he was tempted to believe Odin was right about him.

He cared for naught but himself and what he wanted.

And right now, he wanted Darcy to be safe. He wanted Odin to, in part, be conscious of the fact that he was not as useless as he lead on. There was more to him than magic and being Thor’s younger brother.

Loki looked away from his father, glaring at the shelves full of books, many of which he’d ‘borrowed’ and read with Darcy. “There are forces larger than Yggdrasil that require responsibility.”  He muttered.

“Nonsense.” Odin accused, “You are a Prince of Asgard, even if you do not act like one. It is your priority to the realm and to her people. It is your honor to fight for them. It is your privilege to have say in how we proceed in battle! At least Thor understands this in part, and I am becoming unsure whether you do as well, or if it is simply your preference to ignore your duty!”

“You assume my only duty is to Asgard.” He said, wondering if Darcy had gone to sleep yet. She seemed so tired recently.

“I know that you pretend to take accountability for that girl. You made her your Advisor, treating her as though you were her prince rather than Asgard’s! You have not the slightest idea how to act as your title entails!” Odin yelled, his face pulsing red with anger.

Loki turned to Odin, all humor gone and body stiff with rage. “Leave her out of this.”

“Why should I? Is she not the cause of your absence? The conduit which you use to substitute your presence whenever you do not wish to be there? She is the one who has led you to these diversions!” Odin bellowed indicatively, power radiating off him like a star.

Loki no longer looked up to the stars. They were too bright and he had long surpassed them. He had power of his own, and it felt like ice, sucking the heat from everything he so much as looked at.  Odin Allfather dared to insult Darcy Lewis. The one person in the universe he cared for more than anything. His love. The one who became his friend when no one else would.

Loki could have blown the room to pieces had he the proper death wish. “You have no idea what she is!”

“Don’t I?” Odin asked sardonically.

“You do not. Just as you have no idea what I am!” Loki said, blood boiling and heart racing. In his anger, a single tear streaked down his cheek. “You do not know anything! You don’t know what I am capable of! You don’t know what I must do!”

Odin raised a finger, advancing on his youngest son. “I know more about what you are than you could ever believe.” Loki refused to turn away as Odin approached him, staring his father directly in his one, hateful eye. “I know that whatever feat you claim to be capable of, it is nothing compared to that which has already happened before you. And as for your Advisor—“

“Enough.”

Loki had never truly appreciated the sound of his mother’s voice till that moment.

Queen Frigga stood in the entrance to Odin’s study, golden hair falling around her shoulders, brighter and fuller than any cape. Her lovely features were contorted with a mix of wrath and apprehension.

The opportunity to escape Odin’s recourse arose and he took it, bowing once to his father with so much spite it could never be sincere. He passed his mother on his way out, wanting nothing more than to take her hands and ask her to magic away his problems. He had no doubt that Frigga, as his mother, could do it.

“Loki,” she called gently, her delicate hand catching his wrist.

Composing himself, he offered her a small smile, taking her hand and kissing it. “Mother.”

She cupped his cheek in her palm, running her thumb along his cheekbone. “Be safe, my son. Please.”

His smile weakened and he patted her knuckles, “Of course.”

As he left he considered apologizing to his mother. She had loved him when no one else had, taught him magic when he was too weak to fight and found a way for his friend to be a part of his world. And what had he given her in return? An ill conceived promise to stay safe? Neglect of his duties? He was a terrible son. At least she had Thor, the firstborn. The golden child.

With this in mind, Loki carried on, magicking himself far, far away from the palace and straight to a portal to Alfheim.

                                                               ***

Darcy sat at a meeting table, facing Lord Solt and Leader of the Einherjar, Hervingr. Thor sat to her left, as she was filling in for Loki.

“This is absurd, Darcy.” Thor said, gesturing to her proposal, “The production of weaponry ensures Asgard’s safety with the impending war! And if we intend to be fighting both sides…”

“That is still uncertain,” Hervingr pointed out in a clear voice, “Though I agree with Prince Thor. The order to stop production would be inane.”

Solt tapped his fingers on the table, reading over her proposal. “Prince Thor, General Hervingr, I must ask you, meaning no disrespect on any account, if you, in fact, read the entire document Advisor Darcy pieced together before this meeting?”

Both Thor and the General opened their mouths to protest as Solt looked directly at Darcy. “You’ll notice that, if you read past the first paragraph, she extends her proposal. Advisor Darcy, would you mind reading the remainder of your proposal to us, explaining the implications and courses you would intend to take with these liberties. We shall remain silent, as is polite protocol, until you are finished.”

Darcy’s entire body flooded with gratitude. Solt was an old stickler for the rules and Darcy loved him for it. It didn’t matter that he disagreed with almost everything she said, he had his own reasons for disagreeing and argued them without shouting.

“Of course, Lord Solt.” Darcy replied respectfully because Lord Solt was head of the judicial branch and Darcy had a high opinion of him. “Okay, so, if you read on, I propose we stop the creation of the current standard issue weapons for the Einherjar that Odin Allfather implemented a few years ago. These weapons are designed specifically for brutally murdering Frost Giants. Right now, every warrior carries one.

“Unless everyone has somehow forgotten, Asgard made some semblance of peace with the Jotunar a while back. Having the weapons sends a bad message to them and they will be completely ineffective in fighting the Vanir—“

“You have no control on Inter-Realm affairs,” Hervingr interrupted, immediately melting under the angered glare of Lord Solt. He cleared his throat, “My apologies. Continue, Advisor Darcy.”

She glared at him for a moment, laying her hands flat on the table and sincerely wishing she had her glasses. “General Hervingr, you do know how swords work, do you not?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Darcy said, biting back her need to sass. “Then you’ll know that the size of the current issue is impractical for fighting Vanir. They are skilled swords-people. If we end up fighting the tribes, we’ll be fighting in the forests, relying on wit to save us. Doing that with swords made to take down hulking Frost Giants on expansive, frozen plains will do nothing but cause us harm.”

“Ah,” Thor said, giving a hearty laugh and clapping Darcy on the shoulder, “Well put, Darcy! A reasonable proposal! How can we defend our realm using improper weapons? Of course, I will be wielding Mjolnir, so I am confused on why I was even asked to be in this meeting to begin with.”

Darcy had to hold back the urge to bang her head on the table.

Hervingr, read over the front sheet of her proposal again. “Do you even have the authority to be making these kinds of suggestions? What does a lady know about proper weaponry?”

Solt somehow managed to straighten his posture even more, his aged, shaven face contorting in bitterness. “General Hervingr, you have a place, you’ll do well to stay in it. As for you,  Advisor Darcy, for once your plan verges on practicality rather than overtly-liberal. I ask, if you intend to remove the current weapon, what do you propose it be replaced with?”

Darcy flipped through her papers, looking to procure the right page when a voice spoke from the entrance of the conference hall. “A new design that will serve its purpose better than the old.”

Loki walked regally towards the table with that dumb, unintentional swagger of his and Darcy almost fell from her chair. She couldn’t remember seeing him at a meeting. It had been months. And he looked awful. Sure his hair was combed, his armor was neat, and his stance was impeccably ‘Loki’, but he was exhausted. His entire body screamed how badly he needed a rest.

It was strange how much she simultaneously wanted to hug him and kill him.

“Lord Solt, General Hervingr, Advisor Darcy, Prince Thor,” he addressed them all formally. “Forgive my intrusion and tardiness, however you care to view it.”

Solt looked Loki up and down with some light approval at excusing himself. “Please, Prince Loki, join us.”

“Thank you, Lord Solt, but I shall only be a moment.” Loki said as Darcy finally found her words amidst a realm of surprise.

“Loki,” she turned in her seat to face him. She was going to ask what he was doing there, but she remembered they were in a professional setting. “I thought you were preoccupied this evening.”

“Quite.” Loki said, not looking her in the eyes. It broke her heart and made her burn with anger all at once. “I have made the proper arrangements so I might partake in this conference.”

Loki paced the length of the room behind Darcy, out of her view unless she turned which she had yet to do. It hurt to look at him. Did he know that? Did he know how badly she missed him?

“Advisor Darcy’s proposal is indeed practical and I agree with it wholeheartedly. Anyone in opposition to it has no mind but that which likes to be obtuse.” Darcy could almost feel his glare at General Hervingr. “In addition to Darcy’s proposal, I would like to suggest that rather than reinstating the old issue of weaponry, we use a new one that will function more efficiently.”

Darcy blinked and suddenly, a glint of silver caught her eye. In the center of the table sat a sword that had not been there seconds before. It was medium length, silver in color and was similar to that of a machete, but with more Asgardian flare. It was serrated near the hilt, and the grip could accommodate two hands if need be.

“General Hervingr, you are correct in saying that Advisor Darcy, due to the limitations of her title, does not have say in foreign affairs. She cannot make you take these weapons to Vanaheim. It does not matter that they will be useful in maneuvering the forests, or that they will be easier to use against both the tribes and the nobles, whichever we fight.” Loki said softly, coming to stand beside her, his lean form dominating the room’s attention.

“But there is much you do not know about Advisor Darcy, General.” Loki said his fist clenching at his side. Darcy wanted very much to take it, help him relax. She wanted him to hold her.

“What is there to know?” Hervingr sneered, “That she has been interfering at every opportunity with the happenings with Vanaheim? Or that she is yours?”

Darcy stood, “Alright, I’ve heard enough. Hervingr, swallow your pride for two seconds. Take the weapon, I know even you can’t deny that this proposal is golden. And for your information, I do not belong to anyone. I am Loki’s advisor. It’s my job and I do it the best I can, thank you very much.”

There was a moment of silence until Thor cleared his throat. “I believe Darcy does well.”

Solt stiffened the line of his mouth, “The meeting description was that of a weapons proposal plan, not of Advisor Darcy’s duties. I believe we have all that is necessary to form a committee to take to the Allfather.”

“Of course.” Loki said politely. “Thank you for your time.”

With that he turned to leave and Darcy watched him, quickly coming to her senses. “Excuse me.” She said, dismissing herself.

Hurriedly, she followed Loki from the room, almost having to run to catch up with him before he could get away. Suddenly, it was as if the barrier dividing her hurt and anger broke and every ounce of patience she had in giving Loki time to sort himself out and come back to her flooded out of her in one huge, “What the fuck was that, Loki?”

They were standing in a hall that also served as a balcony, the golden pillars reflecting the last of the evening sunlight. Loki was a few paces in front of her, his dark hair and black leather contrasting with the glimmering golden landscape. He stopped walking, turning his head to the side, not enough to face her or give her a proper profile of his face, just enough to give her his attention.

“I thought I might do my duty as Prince to help my realm.” He said simply, though he didn’t move. He stood there, as if waiting.

Darcy took a cautious step, terrified that he might disappear. “You haven’t been to a meeting in months, Loki. I think this is the longest conversation we’ve had since December.”

Loki said nothing and Darcy kept walking towards him, till his shoulder was at arm’s length. “Loki.”

He remained still, but spoke. “There is no need to make this battle bloodier than it already will be. You were right; the current issue sword will do a poor job at defeating the Vanir and maneuvering them through the forests would be a task. Not to mention the beasts that live in the forest as well.”

“Loki, look at me.” Darcy urged, her throat thick. “Please, Loki. I…I can’t keep doing this. This thing where we never say anything to each other and I don’t know what to do…I can’t do it, Lokes. We’re not friends anymore.”

She bowed her head, turning away to hide the tear rolling down her cheek. That’s when she felt his hand, familiar and warm, brushing the length of her cheekbone. Darcy leaned into his touch, overwhelmed by his small show of affection.

“I miss you.” She whispered, another one of her tears wetting his palm.

“Darcy.” He said her name, voice rough with emotion. She looked him in the eyes, taking in all that he had been hiding from her these past few months. Every ounce of effort he’d been putting forward to keep his distance from her fell away, walls crumbled, stars blew into pieces as he took her hand and held it to his cheek.

The invitation to touch him, his warmth after months of coldness won over her need to hug him. In an instant, her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, her face buried in his neck as she tried to hide her sobs. Without hesitation, he returned her embrace so fiercely it hurt.

“Darcy, do not cry, my love.” He said against her hair. It was clear he was in no better shape than her.

Darcy wasn’t about to stop crying anytime soon. Call her weak, but life was fucking hard and sometimes she just needed to cry. “Where have you been, Loki?” she asked shakily. “What have you been doing?”

He was silent for a long moment as Darcy’s ragged breathing slowed and she was able to savor the parts of hugging Loki that she’d missed so much.  His pillow hardly smelled like him anymore and his body felt different. He felt harder, in a sense. His hair had gotten a little longer and it wasn’t combed back as it normally was. A few black strands hung down to his chin and Darcy reached up to push one behind his ear.

“If I tell you,” he said softly, his green eyes pleading to her. “You will be angry.”

“Loki,” she sniffed, sinking her fingers into his hair and linking them on the nape of his neck, “I’m already angry. I’m mad that you’ve been ignoring me and keeping me at arm’s length, especially after we came back from a rather traumatizing trip into the galaxy. And I’m downright furious that you’re suffering so much and I can do nothing about it.”

Something flashed in his eyes and every bit of him softened. All of his hard edges and sharp looks melted like butter in a microwave.”I’m sorry you’re worried.”

She ran her thumb under the corner of his eye and thought back to a time almost a year ago. “I’m not worried anymore, Loki.” She said, never once breaking eye contact. “I am desperate.”

Loki closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath, his hands grasping hers as he fought through whatever was going on inside his head.

They stood there for a long moment and Darcy was sure that someone was going to walk past. Maybe they did. Maybe word was already spreading through the palace that Loki and Darcy were together, being affectionate in the hall. Darcy couldn’t care, she only waited.

Finally, when the sunset had changed from a yellow glow to an orange one, setting fire to the golden pillars and statues that framed the dark prince and the intractable mortal, Loki spoke so low that she could barely hear him.

“I’ve been searching for Infinity stones.”

Darcy’s insides seemed to break apart into tiny pieces with that one tiny declaration. “What?”

“Infinity Stones.” He repeated himself, opening his eyes to stare down at her dolefully.

Her knees felt weak as she thought back to their last expedition. Sure they both made it out alive, but they were together for most of it. If he had died, she would have had some inclination that it had happened. “Loki.” She breathed, her hands slipping down from his face. “Oh, Loki, why?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. “Because I must, Darcy. I have no choice.”

“You do have a choice, Loki.” She told him, taking his hands in hers. “Why would you think that you don’t have a choice? The stones…they’re a side project we started when we were kids, Loki.”

“And they’re dangerous, Darcy.” He implored, his eyes, masked in dark, tired circles, swept over her. “I thought I lost you once and I won’t do it again.”

Darcy’s brows furrowed as her blood began to simmer. “Loki, we lost each other. I thought you were just as dead as you believed me to be and I still got my ass out of there. And you think that this will solve your problem? Going out searching for stones? Risking your life and for what purpose, Loki?”

He didn’t answer, looking her dead in the eye as if she was supposed to have a clue.

Only she did have a clue. She knew why. She’d known why for quite some time now.

“Me.” She said choking on a mass of confused sentiments. “Loki…”

Ever so gently, he placed his hand over her heart. The sweetheart neckline of her dress allowed for their skin to meet and a chill to spread over her body from where he touched her. Her heart beat loudly, whether from anger or something else entirely, she had no idea.

“You.” Loki confirmed, and Darcy absently noticed how close they were to one another. She could feel his breath against her lips, their bodies creating a kind of heat that Darcy wanted to bask in.

Instead she shook her head, “Loki, that’s so fucking stupid. Finding the Infinity Stones isn’t going to make anyone safer. In fact, you might draw people to them by searching them out.”

“Darcy, I told you before, I must do it.” Loki repeated, pressing his palm a bit more firmly against her chest to better feel her heart. “And you,” he exhaled deeply, “are mortal.”

Hurt washed over her and she stepped back, “Does that bother you now or something?”

“Darcy,” he reached for her hand, but she clenched it into a fist before he could take it. “Please.”

“Listen up, Loki, because I want you to remember every word I’m about to tell you,” Darcy said, angry tears pricking her already red and agitated eyes.

“I’m a human, but I am not ‘only’ human. Being a mortal does not make me weak on some inordinate level. You may be a Prince and a genius and a master of magic, but god fucking dammit I am Darcy fucking Lewis. You cannot make decisions for me just because you think it’ll be safer or some other ridiculous noble bullshit like that. My job on Asgard might be your Advisor and I may be just a highschool student, but you are sincerely underestimating me and you know it.” She said, uncaring of who heard her. Let them hear if they must.

“You’re caught up worrying about what my life means to you and not considering what yours means to me.” Darcy said, her voice cracking a bit. “We’re friends.”

He shook his head, the tiniest, bitterest smile making its home on his lips. “We are not friends, Darcy.”

His words took a moment to sink in and she felt her heart break. “What?”

Loki frowned, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I love you, Darcy.”

The truth dawned on her as the last remnants of blood-red sun glimmered from sight. It made more sense to her now than it ever had before. Loki loved her. It was not enough for him to say that he was in love with her, just as it was not enough to say that she was in love with him. It was more than that. Everything they had, everything they were together was founded on years of childhood friendship and random fits of laughter, long nights slaving over this problem or the next, early mornings and lazy afternoons spent lounging in bed.

She needed him as he needed her. It was not dependence; they could go on without one another. But in what realm, what plane of existence, would they want to do that?

Darcy linked their fingers together, “I love you too.”

Loki’s breaths were measured and his brow crinkled as if the words he was about to say burned him. “It does not change anything.”

It was dark now. The stars had yet to shine and dusk was at its prime. Darcy squeezed his hand, willing some sense into his stubborn mind. “How? How could that not change anything?”

“Because, Darcy,” Loki murmured, “I have no choice. I need to find them.”

She stared at him incredulously. Something had to have happened to him. There was another part to this search for the stones that he wasn’t telling her. “Why do you think that, Loki? What more is there to all this?”

Loki was silent and Darcy took his refusal as a rejection. This was it. He chose whatever force was keeping him tied to the Infinity Stones over her.

The stars finally peaked through the night, their bright light illuminating Asgard’s moons and painting the hall in an ethereal glow. Hurt, angry, and rejected, Darcy broke the silence. “Just take me home, Loki.”

Frank and Fenrir appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, catching up to their owners just in time for Loki to transport them to the portal and back to Midgard.

He left with Frank just as soon as he came. Her double disappeared with him and Darcy took her space on the bed, flopping face-down and contemplating screaming angrily into her pillow.

But she didn’t have enough energy to do it.

Fenrir climbed on her back, laying across her body and whining comfortingly. Darcy sighed, rolling over to rub his ears. “He’s so dumb, Fenrir.”

The dog licked her chin and Darcy closed her eyes, longing for some kind of feeling that wasn’t pain. She felt as though Yggdrasil was being torn up from its roots.

Her phone buzzed, temporarily excavating her from the pit of emotions she’d gotten herself into.

She had a missed call from Johnny Storm.

Her boyfriend.

Darcy sighed, rubbing her eyes. How had she become that girl? The one that must choose between two boys, one devilishly handsome and the other angelic in every possible way.

Snorting, she scratched behind Fenrir’s ears and he made a sound like a hiss.

Neither Johnny nor Loki could, in any way, be considered angelic. And she wasn’t choosing either of them. Because, when it came down to it, there was no choice.

Asgard knew her as Advisor Darcy, the lady that keeps Prince Loki on track and is passionate about the realm’s politics.

Midgard and Johnny and her parents and friends knew her as Darcy Lewis, that one chick with the boobs that wants to go to Culver.

But Loki…Loki knew her as both. Loki knew her for who she was and he loved her for it. He loved her, pushing her away nonetheless.

And she loved him back even so. But how could she be with him, platonically or otherwise, when he was out risking his life for the sake of a few shiny rocks?

Not that it mattered. At the moment, Darcy didn’t feel like being herself.  She didn’t want to be Advisor Darcy or anyone even remotely like Darcy Lewis.

Anger pricked at her insides like a needle, the sensation growing with every passing second. Getting out of bed, she snatched her phone, dialing Johnny’s number.

“Hey, Hotstuff. I’m coming over.”

She hung up her phone, almost leaving her room before she remembered that she was, in fact, still dressed as an Asgardian noblewoman. Pissed, she stripped off the dress and threw on some sweats, charging down the stairs.

“Mom! I’m going to see Johnny! I’ll be back!” she called and her mother shouted back some response about being home before midnight.

It didn’t take her long to get there in her rage. Johnny answered the door in the first knock and she was on him like fire to dry grass. His response was delayed, but passionate as he shut the door, backing her against it as they kissed.  Darcy wrapped her leg around his, making her intentions entirely clear.

And thankfully, Johnny didn’t push her away. He only kissed harder, grabbing her legs and hoisting them around his waist.  “Oh, fuck, Darcy.” He panted between kisses. “When you said it would be a surprise, I didn’t think it would be this much of a surprise.”

“Neither did I.” Darcy said, arching her body against his, her head hitting the door as she exposed her neck to him. He placed a few quick kisses there and she moaned at the contact. “Your bedroom.”

Her lips sunk back down to his and he nodded in agreement, “Yeah.”

He let her down and they stumbled clumsily to the stairs, Darcy kicking off her shoes in the process. Halfway down the hall, Johnny lost his shirt and in the darkness of his room, Darcy shucked her pants.

They fell onto his bed in a messy, desperate tangle. Johnny groped at her ass and chest as she straddled his lap. Her shirt came off and he sat up suddenly. “Holy shit, I forgot.” He hurriedly moved from beneath her, adjusting his pants as he went to leave the room. “I’ll be right back.”

Darcy sat there in the darkness, not able to fully comprehend what was going on. Her mind was clouded with lust and fire and anger and all she wanted to do was fuck it out. She was about ready to go after him, when he returned with a green candle in a cigarette lighter.

“Okay,” he said, setting the candle on his nightstand and lighting it, “I know I promised you multiple candles, but this one smells like pine and I thought I could compensate for the tasteless dinner I was going to make us with this awesome smelling candle.”

Darcy quirked a grin, inhaling the scent. Pine. It was awfully familiar. She shook her head. “It hides the smell of your room. You get boy scout points for always being prepared.”

“Scouts honor.” He said, smiling flirtingly as he kissed her.

They fell back against the sheets and Darcy undid his belt buckle, subconsciously trying to place the smell.

Her bra went then her panties, and she attempted to force the thought from her mind.

He squeezed her, she kissed him. Johnny didn’t stop to ask her anything and she was glad he didn’t. She pushed his pants and underwear with her feet and he kicked them aside gracelessly.

Darcy closed her eyes as Johnny reached between them. “Ready Lewis?”

“Yeah.” Was her only reply as she tugged him down to fuse their mouths back together.

He entered her and Darcy closed her eyes, letting her thoughts carry her far, far away.

Pine.

Enormous wooden bed frames and stone fireplaces, white furs and thick sheets, nightclothes strewn about and peace. Careless, blissful peace.

Tranquility was forever infused in the scent of pine. Thryheim was an embedded memory and Darcy relaxed in Johnny Storm’s bed, thrusting her hips to meet his, trying to increase the rising pleasure in her body. She couldn’t think about Thryheim without remembering Loki and every jerk of her hips, every moan, every bite was just reminder she was with Johnny and not him.

Johnny let his head fall into the pillow and Darcy sucked on his shoulder. She felt his arms and scratched his back, listening to the sounds he made, keeping herself constantly aware of who he was. She ran her fingers through his short hair, bringing her mouth back to his.

“Harder.” She begged through their kisses. “Please, harder.”

Johnny swore, “Any harder, babe, and we won’t be doing this much longer.”

She took his lip between her teeth, snaking a hand between them. “It’s okay,” she assured, “I’ve got it.”

In seconds she was gone, her mind ecstatically blank as Johnny followed with a gasp of relief.

For what could have been hours they didn’t move as Darcy cling to the fleeting remains of her release. After a moment, Johnny rolled to his side, leaning over to kiss her once. “I was so right.”

She smiled, unable to get past how dorky Mr. Johnny Storm looked with sex hair and a hickey, beaming like nothing could ever go wrong ever again. “That was the best sex of my life. I take back what I said about you being a virgin. Virgins aren’t that loud.”

Smirking, Darcy grabbed the pillow from under her head and hit him with it. “I wasn’t that loud!”

Johnny laughed, falling back against the pillows, naked spare one sock on his left foot. “You totally were! You’re just lucky Sue and my Dad are out.”

“Sue is home?” Darcy asked, adjusting Johnny’s blankets so she could wiggle under them and cuddle up to her boyfriend.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, gently easing away from her. “Hey, babe, don’t take this the wrong way, but I kind of am super sweaty right now and skin on skin would be a bit gross. I’m going to go put some pants on and get food.”

Darcy nodded, trying not to be too offended. She knew Johnny wasn’t very cuddly. Apparently that meant after sex too. Sharon always cuddled after oral. Loki—

Sitting up, Darcy tried to vanish Loki from her mind. What was happening? What had she done?

She stared at Johnny’s bedroom door and the rock band poster taped to it.

Johnny Storm may not have been the most sensitive kind of guy, but he had feelings for her. Darcy wouldn’t doubt that. But did she have feelings for him?

Of course she cared about him. She liked to see him happy and she worried if he got sick or didn’t return her calls after a couple hours. She liked to know that he was healthy. She enjoyed their flirting and thought it was fun to hang out with him. He turned her on and every once in awhile, he might hold her hand or say something to her and little butterflies beat at her tummy.

But mostly he was her friend and she loved him as such.

Standing up, Darcy found her underwear and put them on, deciding that it was best she go. That’s when Johnny walked back in, a bottle of water tucked under his arm. In one hand he held a mug of what Darcy hoped was coffee and in the other a pizza box.

Darcy turned away from him, mildly ashamed at her lack of substantial clothing. Johnny set down the stuff, “Here, I’ll get you a shirt.”

He expertly stepped over several piles of discarded clothes to his closet where a singular, gray t-shirt hung on a plastic hanger. He offered it to her gentlemanly and Darcy rolled her eyes in good humor, accepting his offering. “Is this your last clean shirt?”

“Why, yes. Yes, it is.”Johnny answered, sitting down on his bed, shirtless and popping open the pizza box. “Also, this pizza came about five minutes before you busted down my door to have your filthy way with me. I’m sharing it with you. If that doesn’t prove how much I lo—like you,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t know what will.”

Darcy hummed, sitting back down and picking up a slice of pizza and sipping her coffee. As casual as she made herself out to be, there was an aching, guilty chord being plucked in her chest. The feelings she had for Johnny were girlish. They were warm and shallow.

But in a world where she hadn’t known Asgard or Loki, in a world where Midgard was her home and her priorities were school and romantic relationships, she might believe she was in love with Johnny Storm.

She willed herself into that position. She bit into her pizza and sipped her coffee, taking the place of a girl who was ready to stay out late at her boyfriend’s house, not because she wanted to forget about her alien prince and containing a war, but because she thought she was in love.

As she and Johnny ate and he explained in detail how round two was going far surpass any sexual expectation she ever had.

And during round two, Darcy closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of pine, and resolving that she could fall in love with Johnny Storm if she tried hard enough.

                                                               ***

Loki could not remember ever feeling so empty.

Every part of him ached with dull, unyielding pain.

He could have given himself to Darcy in that moment, given up on his forlorn quest and fall into embrace. They could have kissed under the stars and he could have told her every dream he ever had of her as his light. His companion. His equal. He could have told her every thought he ever had about the two of them going to bed late and sleeping in on the weekends and dancing during a feast.

But he hadn’t.

His reasons weren’t noble.

He didn’t refuse to tell Darcy because he had an obligation to the universe. He tore himself away from her because he truly had no choice. The prophecy foretold his future. He would find the stones, be it now or the next day, he would have to come across them.

Loki wanted it to be over with. He wanted them found and secured. He wanted Darcy and the taste of her lips.

Before when she was making her point, reminding him that she was powerful, he wanted to tell her she was right. He wanted to tell her that his insecurities were not that she was weak, but that she was too strong. Her fierce determination and power of mind were strong enough to combat any fool daring enough to take her on.

And what happens after that fool sees how strong she is? What pains will they go through to see her done? The weak ones are shown mercy, a knife to the throat to end their suffering. The stronger ones are put to the test.

It was better to deny himself her love now, deny them both one another and save them the later hurt.

And he hated himself all the more for it.

Stumbling into his corner to the library, he found the back of a chair, squeezing the wood, grounding himself to something. The rising anger inside him threatened to lash out. He wanted to blame someone, anyone, for what was happening. But who had he to blame but himself?

With a hard jerk of his hands, the chair shattered. Chips of wood sprayed across the room and it felt good. He unleashed his magic, giving it no specific instruction but to reflect his madness. Books flew from the shelves, papers flew, quills broke, ink spilt…. It was chaotic.

“Something the matter, Your Highness?”

Loki contained his magic at once, letting the room still at the unsuspected appearance of Lorelei.  He’d heard someone lurking, but had hoped it would not be her.

“Be gone.” He ordered and she clicked her tongue, stepping closer. He faced the window, avoiding her eyes.

But Lorelei did not understand the concept of a command. It was either that, or she believed she was above it. For, rather than leaving, she strode closer, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

When Loki said nothing, she stepped around the mess to face him, her palms on his chest, her fingers toying with his armor.

He kept his eyes on the window, refusing to look at her. Lorelei was not Darcy. She was a venom; a poison. Foul toxin that he was highly susceptible to. Her touch pained him.

As her fingers roamed up the length of his neck, over his jaw, across his cheekbone, he contemplated pushing her away. But when they reached his hair and they pushed a stray lock behind his ear, he realized it was no use.

Giving in, his gaze flicked down to her and anger re-ignited in his blood. Her eyes gleamed like that of a predator as she stood on her toes to kiss his unresponsive lips.

There was one thing she forgot.

He was not prey.

She kissed him again and this time he responded with fervor, determined that if she was going to pour poison down his throat, he would drink it willingly.

He pulled her closer, swallowing her shocked gasp as she tried to find her way under his armor. Growling in frustration, Loki grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her sides.

Lorelei’s back arched in triumph and she broke the kiss. Sitting on the edge of the table, she spread her legs for him. “Make me yours, Prince Loki.”

He glowered at taunting eyes and wanton body. After a moment’s hesitation and a sharp pain in his heart, he stepped between her legs. He glared down at her, “You will never be mine.”

It hurt to be inside her and the pain heightened when she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling his head down to whisper in his ear, “Let her go, Loki.” She said between tiny gasps, “It could never happen.”

“You know nothing.” He snarled, thrusting deeper, stealing her words for just a little longer,

“I know she’s not here,” Lorelei replied once her voice returned, her nails biting into his neck, “And I am.”

The truth marred him from the inside-out.  Because it wasn’t Darcy he was giving himself away to, it was Lorelei. And it wouldn’t be Darcy’s taste on his lips when he went to his potential death later that night, it would be faint traces of poison. He would be long before any terrible beast could tear him apart.

Loki clenched his eyes shut, suffocating himself in her hair. Toxic smoke from her skin filled his lungs and left chemical burns in his mouth.

Her peak was his downfall. Her body shook and pulsed around his throbbing self. He felt beat, used, and very tired. Sleep called to him in the night’s early hours.

Yet he did not go to it. There was no realm of comfort that could match that of Darcy’s bed. The aroma cast by her hair, her colorful nightclothes and soft little snores were just a few of his sanctuary’s qualities.

Loki turned away from Lorelei, righting himself and disappearing without a second glance.

Somewhere far away, under a glittering, star-filled sky, Loki waited for them to redress his wrongs. Alas, the stars only blinked cluelessly, leaving him to abandon that which he’d already lost long ago.

***

Frigga strode through the corridor with the kind of enraged elegance only a queen could acquire

At last, almost an entire season after the council had given Odin their arguments as to which side of Vanaheim they believed Asgard should support, her idiot husband makes his decision.

Seething with rage, Frigga stormed into the Allfather’s study, dismissing the guards with only a look. War was upon them and they did not wish to be caught in the crossfire.  The King of Asgard, her husband, Allfather of the Nine Realms and the heartless father to her children sat at his desk, staring at a scroll. “Odin Borson, you dare—“

“Frigga—“

“Do not interrupt.” She snapped, composing herself only slightly, “You were presented three perspectives by the court. Firstly, the most reasonable option that Asgard side with the Vanir tribes. The capital would have been overwhelmed and little blood would be shed.” Frigga explained, slowly advancing towards his desk, “Alas, you decline this.”

“Frigga—“

“Secondly,” she continued without so much as acknowledging that Odin had spoken. “That Asgard side with the capital. This, of course, would have enraged the Vanir further at the injustice of their situation. Their argument for greater representation in Vanir politics is not unfounded. Nevertheless, we could have ended this dispute soon enough.”

Odin sighed, sitting back in his chair and kneading his brow.

Glaring, Frigga squared her shoulders, staring down at the Allfather, “Lastly, there was the most impractical option that only a fool with more might than mind would have chosen.” She said lightly, her tone sharpening as she went on. “And that choice is to barge into Vanaheim and take neither side. The Asgardian men will simply massacre enough of the Vanir people that they shall be forced to resign.”

Odin sat, unmoving as he responded tiredly to his wife’s rant. “Are you finished yet?”

“Hardly.” She replied her tone softer than before and filled with enough threat that the Allfather was forced to look at her. “Odin, your choice will be the end of peace with Vanaheim.”

“My choice…” he scoffed, standing up to pace the length of his study. “You would have Asgard side with the tribes in order to intimidate the nobles. And for what? Because you believe they are justified? Things are fine as they were, the tribes are simply looking to stir up trouble.”

“Then why not the side of the nobles?” Frigga asked, “Why not fight with them?”

“Frigga,” Odin began impatiently, “Freya has been difficult in the past and—“

“Wonderful.” She interrupted, turning away from her husband in disgust. “You refuse to uphold a treaty simply because you cannot agree with someone else’s methods.”

“Do not be ridiculous,” Odin protested, banging Gungnir on the ground. “Freya and I have never truly gotten along. Fighting with her would be detrimental to the warriors’—“

“Your words are of little weight. Your excuses are childish.” Frigga said, lifting her chin, daring him to continue unloading his horse shit onto her plate. The Queen was quite fond of Freya. She was an intelligent woman, though extremely forthcoming at times. In fact, she was so forthcoming that the last time the Queen of Vanaheim and the King of Asgard were in the same room, someone almost lost their remaining eye.

That, and Freya rightfully called the Allfather a ‘degenerate slug’ for reeking such havoc on Vanaheim when battling the Frost Giants.

And now, in Vanaheim’s time of need, he refused to see reason.

Odin grimaced, approaching her as if he might say anything that could change her mind. “What would you have me do?”

“Finally you are asking the right questions.” Frigga told him, her anger receding. “I ask you this, Odin, as both Queen of the Realm Eternal and your wife, fight with the tribes.”

He stared at her curiously, slowly returning to his chair. “There is more to this than you are telling me.”

Frigga offered him the tiniest of smiles, “It’s about time you’ve caught on.”

There was a moment of silence as Odin watched her questioningly through his one blue eye. “Will you tell me?”

“Do you not already know?” she quipped readily.

“If I already knew, I would not be asking.”

“Surely you must have some idea.”

He banged his staff once in irritation, looking more like a frumpy, bearded child than a king. “God dammit, woman! Tell me!”

Frigga narrowed her eyes at him until he muttered a quiet, “please.”

Stepping lightly, Frigga moved towards a stack of books, lifting the cover of one and smiling at the memories she had of such tome. “Lord Bjarte has been advocating for you to side with the nobles.”

Odin sneered at her words. “You accuse me of being childish and here you have a grudge all your own.”

It took great strength to keep her wits about her and not de-throne her husband in that moment. “And you wonder why I tend to keep my secrets to myself. I no sooner begin then I am ridiculed.”

Clearing his throat, Odin gestured for her to continue. “My apologies.”

“Hm.” Frigga hummed, glancing towards the shelves where, several years earlier, she had warned Bjarte that his war would indeed happen. She made sure Darcy was there to witness it. “Lord Bjarte is a liar. He does not truly want to fight with the nobles. It is a ploy.”

“And why do you suspect such a thing?”

She folded her hands in front of her, watching the stars twinkle expectantly. They were waiting. “You have been listening in those meetings, have you not? It is apparent in his very tone. His lies appeal to those who think too bluntly.”

Odin’s temper rose at the insult. “You do not trust Bjarte, yet you wish to comply to his wishes on who to support?”

“Yes.” Frigga answered immediately. “I have explained all that I can. The rest will soon come to light. Change your verdict, Allfather. See to it that this conflict is solved once and for all.”

He said not a word and Frigga went to his side, taking his hand. “Trust me, Darling.”

At last, he relented, squeezing her hand. The gesture was warm and comforting and familiar. It reminded Frigga of a time before the war, for it had changed him so much. “I trust you more than anyone, Frigga. I fear that I am a fool to do so, but I will do as you say.”

“Thank you,” Frigga said, gently slipping her hand from his grasp. “Freya has officially declared the war then?”

“Yes, she has.”

“When shall we send the troops?” Frigga asked, reading over his papers briefly. There was nothing she didn’t know already.

“In two days time.” Odin said without hesitation. “The summer has just begun. We need not put it off any longer, for wounds fester in the heat.”

“Indeed.” Frigga whispered to herself, a heavy sense of dread swelling in her stomach. “I shall leave you to it then.”

As she had begun to depart, Odin spoke again. “Frigga, I must ask you a favor. I daresay, you will not like me for it.”

Sadly, Frigga turned to him. “I am sorry to say that is not an unlikely occurrence as of late.”

“Quite,” Odin said, studying her for a long, sorrowful moment. “Keep Loki’s advisor out of this as much you can.”

The Allmother was affronted as her husband went on to defend his request.

“She has done nothing but interfere with this war. She had no right at all to even be present, let alone contribute to anything related to inter-realm affairs. She is an advisor.”

Frigga waited a solid moment in irritated silence before retaliating. “No.”

“Frigga—“

“She is Loki’s advisor and her own person. She has her right, as a citizen of Asgard, to fight in any battle if she wishes. I will not tell her what she can and cannot do, especially when I believe it is crucial she go.” Frigga argued plainly.

Odin made a sound of disgust, “I do not understand you, Frigga. The boy has done naught but lie and deceive us this past year. He has neglected his duties, taken advantage of his title…you can hardly call him a prince.”

“Are we no longer using his name then?” she asked tersely, “Loki was correct in saying you have not the slightest idea of who his is.”

“Come now, Frigga.” Odin urged, leaning forwards across his desk. “At least we have some idea what Thor is doing. He’s being a young man, partaking in that which is expected of him at some point. Loki goes off on his own, leaving that blasted girl to take his place.”

Frigga sighed, her heart aching for her son. “Why must you be so cruel to him? All he has ever wanted is to have your approval, and all you do is push him away. You insult his talents and her, who he loves—“

“He does not love that middling lady!” Odin growled in protest. “She knows not her place. Once Loki has put an end to this chapter in his life, she will be done with.”

“Leave future predictions to me, Allfather.” Frigga told him sourly, “And care of how you speak. Loki is going through something that you, in all your years, could never imagine.”

“Frigga—“

“He is my son.” She said resolutely. “You may cast him aside, but I will not. I love him as any mother loves their child.”

Odin grit his teeth, “And you think I do not?”

“Have you ever shown that you do?” Frigga asked, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Frigga,” The Allfather began in a firmer tone. “Keep in mind that he is not truly yours.”

Time seemed to stop just as the King of Asgard realized the mistake of his words.

Frigga’s every fiber shook with rage as she advanced on a man she no longer knew. In that moment, she could have slaughtered the entirety of the Vanir forces without a second glance; but, she would settle for Odin Allfather.

With a steely gaze she glared down at him, “Listen to me, Allfather, and listen well. Some two-thousand years ago you came home from Jotunheim with a missing eye and a sick, dying child. You told me whose it was and you placed this child in my arms.” Several angry tears fell from her eyes as she clenched her hand into a fist.

“You told me your plans for him and all that he would become and I laughed.” Frigga smiled through her tears at the memory. “I laughed because that babe I held could hardly breathe, let alone unite two warring realms. Thor was sleeping in his cradle not far away and I asked myself if I could do it. Could I raise a child, the son of my realm’s sworn enemy?”

Frigga shook her head, the pain in her heart ebbing as she remembered. “And that’s when he looked at me. I knew what he was and whose crown he was meant to inherit. I knew who hated his kind and who would have slaughtered him in the snow.” She gave Odin a watery, sad smile. “But he didn’t know that. He only looked at me with those eyes of his, begging someone, anyone, to love him.

“I did not choose to love this child so much, for the choice was not mine. And even if it were, I would not have it any other way.  I named him. I nursed him back to health. I spent days answering his every question and curiosity, teaching him magic, helping him to be all that he could. And I am proud of him, Odin, as I have always been proud of him.

“So know this Allfather,” Frigga said, her voice gravelly and low from crying. “If you dare to tell me that he is not my son ever again,” she leaned menacingly across the cluttered surface of his desk, “you will lose the other eye.”

Frigga did not bother to gauge Odin’s reaction, for she could taste his surprise and his hurt and his impending apology. But she did not wish to hear his words. There were far greater things than her husband’s guilty conscience that needed her attention.

So, she left, the stars applauding her as she set to work, making the necessary preparations for the war to come.