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Chapter Text

The first time Loki died, it was nothing more than a freak accident as mere children. Thor, ever boisterous and unthinking, pushed his younger brother during a mock fight, bellowing out his laughter as the other boy fell to the ground in a crumpled heap upon the flagstones of the courtyard. “Again, Loki!” he laughed, bounding over to his brother’s side with a wide grin, nudging Loki with the tip of his boot. “Come on! You will be dirty and Mother shall scold us both.”

His brother did not arise from where he had fallen and the light playfulness melted away and into a great and terrible fear, blinding panic overcoming him when he spied the bloodied gash upon his brother’s temple, a dark bruise forming already. Crying for help, Thor fell to his brother’s side and turned him onto his back, eyes wide and tears sparkling at the corners of his eyes. It was his fault. No one else’s. Just his.

Loki was dead for nigh three minutes, the healers told the Queen softly at the young Prince’s bedside. A tremendous hit to the head and the boy was lucky indeed to still be alive. Such a blow to the skull should have killed a boy of his small stature immediately, the healer informed Frigga quietly when she consented to leave his side for a moment. How his skull had managed to absorb the majority of the shock perplexed them. Frigga had her theories, but did not voice them aloud for the young boy’s sake. The fact that remained was that he was indeed lucky to be breathing, let alone talking and complaining about the inconvenience of being bedbound for a day or two just in case.

That night, the Valkyrie came for him.

Loki was sat in his quarters, crosslegged atop his bedcovers with a plate of dinner before him, the quiet almost deafening him even with his mother at his side. She sat absorbed in her needlework, only glancing up occasionally to check his plate was bein emptied. He craned over the side to see her progress on the golden flowers, but she tutted and held it against her chest. “Patience, Loki.” Frigga chastised and reached out, tenderly brushing a finger against his cheek. Normally Loki would gently wave her affections away, fearing the teasing of the noble’s sons, their words of him being a mewling babe clinging to his mother’s arm. This time he allowed her with good grace, knowing that the touches were born from worry and fear at his wellbeing. He could hardly begrudge her the chance to be assured that her son was well enough.

He thought, foolishly from the tales Thor told him, the both of them even smaller and whispering tales of monsters in the dark of night, that Valkyrie’s snuck in through the window. Loki believed that they snatched up the soul and left once again, flying like demons to Valhalla to deposit their load.

This Valkyrie was announced by a surprised guard, pushing the doors to his chamber wide as she strode in with a glowing confidence.

Loki’s first impression of the woman was that she was very beautiful indeed. Dark eyes and even darker hair, she was far from the pale haired and fair-skinned ladies of Asgard. Even her skin was a soft brown, the shade of a woman who had spent a long time in the sunlight. At her hips she boasted two long blades which clinked like bright silver music as they brushed up against the metal buckles dotting her black and gold armour.

Frigga rose to her feet, setting down her needlework with an exclamation of “My Lady Valkyrie?”

The Valkyrie turned her dark and curious eyes upon the young prince who immediately felt himself almost cower away from the intensity of her gaze. “I came for the boy,” she said softly, “yet he still lives.”

At the words, Frigga nodded, clasping her hands before her as she took a step towards the woman. “An accident. He did indeed die, my Lady. But only for the briefest of moments. I’m afraid that you cannot take him.”

“I exist to ferry the worthy dead, Queen Frigga of Asgard, not steal away the living.”

But the Valkyries only took the warriors, Loki reasoned. He was no warrior, and he liked that, leaving the hacking and slashing to Thor and his boisterous friends. There were other ways to best an opponent in battle. From respect he held his tongue as to why he had been chosen, but he couldn’t stop the other question from slipping past his lips.

“My brother says that you have wings,” Loki enquired politely, shifting to the edge of the bed and slipping his legs over the side to hang loose. “He says that you fly unencumbered.”

A smile twitched at the corner of the Valkyrie’s mouth as she fixed her attention fully upon the boy. “Your brother is wrong; we do not possess wings, but our mounts do.”

Loki’s eyes widened in fascination at the mere mention of flying horses. Not even Thor could claim to have ever seen one of them. “May I please see yours?” he asked eagerly, swinging his legs almost boyishly in his excitement. “If it is here?”

“Loki.” Frigga placed a firm hand upon the boy’s knee. “You are still recovering. Furthermore, a Valkyrie is always on a mission.”

But the Valkyrie only smiled and held out her hand for the prince to take; he slipped his fingers into it immediately as if it was calling his name, sliding down from the plush bed. “My mount is in the palace stables awaiting my return. Peace, Queen Frigga,” she soothed the Queen as she opened her mouth, worry clear in her features. “The prince shall not be dying on my watch.”

A resigned sigh. “Straight back,” the Queen ordered her son, pulling a warm and hooded cape from the wardrobe and draping it around his shoulders, covering his bedclothes completely. “And you will obey the Valkyrie’s every command.”

“I swear, Mother.” Loki leaned in and raised himself up onto his toes, pressing his lips to her cheek briefly. As he left with the Valkyrie, Frigga could only sigh at the sight of his bare feet upon the stone. He and Thor were much more alike than he thought in their eagerness to explore.



“Do Valkyries have their own names?” Loki asked as they strode through the vast corridors and adjacent chambers towards the edge of the citadel. She walked so fast, each stride of hers was two, almost three of his. Upon sensing his discomfort at such a quick pace, she slowed down.

“We do. Would you care to hear it, Prince Loki?”

“I would, please.”

“I am Darcy,” she smiled, placing her hands upon the hilts of her swords as she gazed down upon him. “I am pleased to see that you still live; it is not every day that one is called to take a Prince, after all. And such a young one at that.”

He could no longer hold the question back. “I am not a warrior, Darcy; why take me?”

“Why would I take you if you were truly dead?”

Loki nodded silently.

Darcy gazed up at the gilded roof of the entrance hall as they stepped into it, picking out the celestial patterns of scenes and shapes no normal eye could possibly behold. “It would have been a terrible waste, Prince Loki; you shall yourself be a great warrior one day. Your possible futures as well as your past are evaluated to determine your worthiness.” She flashed him another one of her bright and blinding smiles. “In any case, I chose to admit you myself; you are a bright light in the darkness, Prince Loki.”

“I shall be a great warrior?” Loki almost tripped over his feet in his desire to gaze up into her face, eyes wide and gleeful. “I am to become a mighty king? But…” he frowned. “But Thor?”

“I did not say that you shall be a king, Loki,” the Valkyrie told him sharply. “There are many paths and your becoming a king of any kind is but one of them. Do not cling to the idea too tightly, for it is not a prophecy.”

He inclined his head, wondering despite her words of warning. Valkyrie’s were confusing, Loki decided. He wasn’t sure how to interpret her words. Was he to be a great warrior or not?

Darcy made the Prince stay back upon reaching the stables, gently clicking her tongue and drawing the great white beast from its stall and into the open; Loki could only stare in wonder at the sight of the magnificent ivory wings tucked closely to its sleek body. Upon exiting the stall the beast stretched its wings high towards the sky and Loki found himself laughing in glee. Even the ebony saddle upon its back was a thing of great craftsmanship and beauty.

“Bow before her,” Darcy instructed him softly, a hand upon the horses neck, patting it gently. “She is no one’s servant or pet, but a companion. Her name is Lyra.”

Loki did as he was told, bowing deeply before the great horse with a wide smile seemingly stuck upon his face. “She is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” He reached out a hand towards the animal, overjoyed when it trotted forward and butted its velvety nose into his outstretched palm. Loki looked to Darcy, but only found a faint line of surprise in her features. Upon noticing his gaze upon her, it vanished as she smiled.

The Valkyrie ran a hand over the soft downy feathers of the horse’s wing, gently straightening them; a stray feather the length of Loki’s forearm fluttered to the ground, prompting the boy to stoop down and pick it up. He traced the fine and delicate edge, marvelling at the way the sun caught the feather at just the right angle, turning it a light iridescent rainbow. “Keep it.” Darcy pressed the feather back into his hand as he offered it to her. “As her gift to you; she does not shed her feathers for simply anyone.”

“Thank you,” Loki replied sincerely, fingering the feather very lightly so as not to crumple it.

With a sigh the woman glanced to the sky as if something from far beyond the glittering darkness was calling out to her. Loki wondered if the other Valkyrie’s were missing her presence. “I must away,” the Valkyrie muttered almost reluctantly. “My services are no longer required in Asgard, but they are elsewhere.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Valkyrie Darcy. Will you ever visit Asgard again?”

The woman laughed, the sound like music to his ears. “I come with the passing of its warriors, dear Prince. And nothing less.”

“Then I shall eagerly await the fall of its next warrior to see you again,” Loki grinned, only half joking; the Valkyrie giggled at his ridiculous words, so it was completely worth it.

Loki watched with the feather tight in his grip as Lyra and her rider took to the sky, standing with his cape tight around him until they were nothing more than a distant smudge of white upon the infinite black, vanishing in a flash of rainbow light. They were gone.



The shining white feather made the most excellent quill. Loki refused to use no other, even when wear and tear finally began to show upon the tip of the feather, fraying as if like the most delicate of fabrics. Spots of black ink dotted the white in places, and a dark smudge from a fingerprint could be seen near the base of it, courtesy of Thor and his grabbing hands, eager to inspect the enormous white quill that glowed rainbow in the morning and evening sun.

Loki was scarce a teen when the Valkyrie returned to collect the soul of an aged warrior who had died in a valiant battle with an overlarge Bilgesnipe hunting the edges of the citadel, picking off unsuspecting citizens of Asgard who wandered too close to the treeline. The horns may have fatally stabbed the man, but Loki heard tell that the beast had come off worse with two swords to the head and an axe to the chest. Odin had the creature cooked in honour of the man’s services, feasting and toasting his name, devouring the monster that finally felled him. It was delicious at any rate. Loki couldn’t remember the last time he ate so much he felt slightly sick.

Thor had no such quarrels with his appetite. Loki raised an eyebrow at his brother as he began to consume his third plate, coupled with a golden flagon of mead. He wasn’t quite sure where Thor was putting away so much food and drink. Or how many flagons he had now consumed. Loki had it put down to around maybe five, pushing on six. He, however, was still on his first.

Suddenly the great hall erupted into rapturous cheers, fists banging upon the long wooden tables. Taken aback, Loki looked up to the doors, every gaze in the room fixed upon it. A jolt of recognition crept through him at the sight of the twin swords, the hair as dark as night and eyes just as deep. The wide and resplendent smile as she strode towards the head table, bowing low before the King as he welcomed her. Darcy’s eyes caught Loki’s own and he grinned at her sly wink, turning her attentions back to Odin as he held out something to the Valkyrie. Upon closer inspection, Loki realized that the glowing sphere of light was most likely the dead warrior’s soul, ready for travel to Valhalla. Darcy accepted the ball of light with a small curtsy and ran her fingers over it, whispering soft words into the swirl of light; it turned a blinding blue and seemed to fade away, creeping around Darcy’s fingers like smoke as it vanished into her palms. She exhaled a loud sigh.

“Here!” a man on another table cried, thrusting his flagon skywards. “To the honoured dead!” The words echoed around the hall and were once again followed by drinking and cheering. Loki took a longer draught than usual, but held back on the cheering. There was no hiding the smile though.

“Are the dead aware of their situation?” Loki asked when he managed to slip away and accost the Valkyrie as she sat at the end of a thinning table, sipping at a mead and nibbling at a slab of Bilgesnipe meat. He slid into the seat opposite and crossed his arms upon the table.

Darcy shook her head, raising her hands and showing Loki her palms; though they were strangely unblemished by combat, he could see the faintest glow about her. “We are vessels, the only ones capable of transporting such a fragile load. I can feel them-” she patted her chest, tilting her head as if listening hard. “Like voices in my ears, a constant song. Only the song is different with every soul. You Asgardian’s sing the loudest of all. Primal and untamed, proud and defiant.”

“How did you become a Valkyrie?” Loki asked curiously, resting his chin upon his palm, elbow propped up upon the table. “Is it a role you are born into?”

The woman shook her head, smiling at the young man. “No, Prince Loki. Valkyries are born from all walks of life, and not always to Valkyrie parents. We show the qualities as children, touching the souls around us. Untrained it is dangerous in the extreme, so we are taken for training.”

“You are snatched from your family as a young child?” The thought sat heavily with Loki.

“Not in such a cruel way as you are thinking. There is no other option for us other than death as small children, burdened with too much great and terrible power, able to tear at the souls around us. When we reach the age of maturity and complete our training, we can either choose to serve or return to our families. I chose to serve.”

“Then… you have a family out there, Darcy?”

She nodded, gazing into the Prince’s eyes. “I am of Midgard originally. Midgardian’s do not possess powers, as you well know. The mortals – my parents – they did not accept what I was in the slightest, fearful of what they could not understand. I fear any longer and they would have discarded me before they were cut down by their own people for being branded witches.”

A dark look flashed across Loki’s face; he leaned in, voice a growl. “They would cast you out for simply being different? Leave you to die?”

“Peace, Loki. I have long since accepted that my parents had no love for me. It needn’t burden you also.”

“It is abhorrent. That is all.”

Darcy beamed and reached across the table, slipping her hand into the young Princes. “It is truly good to see you once more my young friend. Though I am most glad that I haven’t visited you again personally.”

With a small smile, Loki squeezed her hand in return. She had a very firm grip, the hold of a warrior and not some blithering lady of court. “I share the same sentiments.”

“You are nigh four hundred now?” she ventured, cocking her head at him curiously.

Loki laughed, shaking his head. “No, I am nearer to three hundred and seventy. It seems like a great many years to hear it like that.”

“Very much! On Midgard you would pass for maybe fifteen with looks alone.”

He blanched at the thought. “I would resemble a mewling babe-?”

To his delight, the Valkyrie actually giggled, pulling her hand back slowly. “The Midgardian people age much faster, dear Prince. You would be far from some squalling baby.”

Loki ran a hand through his hair, utterly distracted. “Midgard is exceedingly strange. In my studies they say that they spend a great amount of time at war with themselves, and that their year is only in the fifteen hundred by their calendar, but their people have been alive for much longer.”

“It is religion-based, Prince Loki. They have a strange calendar. I do not try to understand them no longer, for each time I visit the realm it has changed beyond recognition. Another hundred years and it will not be the same as it is now. They change like the tide, always rising and falling with no common purpose other than to survive. And they advance most alarmingly.” The Valkyrie sighed and rose to her feet, stretching gently with a low groan. “I must leave you now. The dead wait for no man, Prince or not.”

Loki bade her farewell. Upon returning to his chambers, he found a brand-new ivory feather sat upon his desk, right beside his old one; he picked it up and twirled it between his fingers with a wide grin.



The Valkyrie visited many times over the next sixty years, always lingering long enough to share a few words with the inquisitive young Prince. Loki began to eagerly anticipate her next visit, leading Thor to begin his teasing that his brother would happily see all of Asgard fall one at a time if he could behold the Valkyrie more often. When the older Prince eventually left him be, Loki realized with a quiet shame that Thor was correct; every time a warrior died, he began joining in at the feasts, the celebrations honouring the man’s life and recounting his death. Loki cheered only because of the woman he knew to be coming that very same day. It was a morbid hobby, awaiting the death of a man to see a woman only briefly. Frigga sat him down upon his six hundredth birthday and placed her hands atop his, telling him in a gentle tone that waiting for a Valkyrie would only bring him pain now that he was a man. They were wild and free, they could never be chained down. Much less to a Prince.

“She is my trusted friend, Mother. And nothing more.” The words felt like ash in his mouth.

His mother shook her head, squeezing his hands briefly. “Loki, you cannot keep waiting eagerly for the men to fall in battle. I say this only for your happiness, my son.”

Loki shook his head, gazing at the wall behind Frigga. His happiness. What happiness? It was a rare day if he was not scorned by the women of Asgard for choosing to favour magic over brute strength, daggers over colossal swords and heavy hammers. They glanced at his dark hair, pale skin and thin features with something akin to disgust, flocking to his brother in droves. It was better to cling to the faint, impossible idea of the fleeting affections of a Valkyrie than suffer at the hand of some insipid young woman who cared nothing for him other than his close ties to Thor.

“As you wish,” he merely told Frigga, the lie heavy upon his stomach. Loki refused to leave the fleeting touches between them in the past, the simple holding of hands across a table. He couldn’t forget the last time she had visited, the way her smile seemed even more beautiful and softer than ever. It was impossible to deny the fact that he’d desired nothing more than to kiss her as she’d turned away, bidding him farewell.

He was falling in love with a Valkyrie. The thought both set his blood afire and slipped ice down his spine

Chapter Text

Loki sat in the dormer window of the great library as he always did when a warrior of the Asgardian ranks died, a book propped open and waiting impatiently. He tried to read the letters, but they came out blurry as his thoughts strayed and he wondered, almost daring to hope. This time he would imitate his brother’s confidence, he swore it.

She moved like a dream, swaying her hips like a creature of sin as she walked into the library, the tinkle of her swords drawing his attention immediately. A wide smile split Loki’s face at the sight of her, the weight on his chest lifting somewhat. Her replying smile caused the coil of worry loosen also.

“So long this time,” he greeted, placing a hand upon her slim waist and lips briefly to her cheek. “I was beginning to believe the Einherjar invulnerable.”

Darcy laughed softly and the pair walked over to the sofa hidden behind the line of thick leather bound tomes, shielded from prying eyes and wagging tongues. “I’m afraid that death comes for us all eventually, dear Prince. Even you and even I.”

One day she would take his own soul, Loki knew. He found the fact strangely comforting; at least he would be in exceptional hands. That was… if he was meant for the higher planes. Maybe his fate was to be dropped into the darkest parts of Hel, to be forgotten about as he was now.

He shook the thought away, gaze flickering to her noticeably different hair. “Ah, I see you have cut that great mane off at long last.”

“You cannot know how frustrating it is to fly with half your vision or all of it obscured by brown.” She tucked a much shorter strand of dark brown behind her ear. “I fear that I may have steered poor Lyra into a tree once. She was most unamused. Actually, she attempted to throw me off and stamp on me.”

“That horse is as wild and untamed as you are, Darcy. It should not at all surprise you.” It was as beautiful as her also. They were a very well matched pair, unchallenged in all the Nine Realms.

Darcy laughed quietly at his words, looking down towards the blue and green mosaic floor. “Not that wild. I have never flown naked with nothing but the wind in my hair as your brother claims. Maybe once without a tunic, but that was a dare taken up by a much younger Valkyrie who decided showing off to her friends was an excellent idea.”

“Ah, but I have orchestrated much worse, dear Darcy; do you not recall the couple who decided to defile our last spot?”

A loud snicker. “Didn’t your brother have to run back to his quarters with nothing more than a pail to cover his manhood?”

“A pail that mysteriously shrank the more he ventured away from his beau, yes.”

Darcy smacked his arm, barking out a laugh that she immediately silenced, glancing around the line of books; the library was thankfully still empty, as it always was at this time of afternoon. Everyone was too busy feasting to give a care about literature and knowledge. She turned back to him. “Did he ever realize that it was you?”

“Who else but my mother wields magic with such finesse? He knew exactly who it was. The only reason he did not have his revenge is because I would tell the King about his little dalliances with the noble’s daughters. And we both know how Odin would react to the fact his son has been taking maidenheads like plucking the seeds from a flower.”

They laughed together for a long few minutes, snickering at the memory of the naked Prince streaking through the Palace. Loki adored the Valkyrie’s laugh; it was rich and unfettered by worry of being caught. There was no falsity to the sound like with the others, for she found him genuinely amusing. His mother’s worries and warnings rang loud in his ears for a second before being hushed.

“What about you?” Darcy asked curiously, fingers dancing over the hilt of her blade. “You are no longer that young boy fascinated with feathers.”

“I still use those quills, actually. They are unparalleled.”

A small frown replaced the curiosity. “Do you not have a woman, Loki? You seem so very… lonely.”

“No,” Loki told her after a moment’s pause. “There is no woman, nor shall there be if I have my way.”

The Valkyrie tutted in disapproval, reaching out and tracing a finger across the moulded leather books before them, their spines etched with runic symbols of ages past. Loki wondered vaguely if she could read the ancient language, dating back to the first of the royal bloodline. No one here could but for a few specialists sequestered away in the Revered Library deep beneath the Citadel. “Now that I fail to believe,” Darcy finally replied, glancing up at him. “What with your clever little tongue and increasingly handsome face. You cannot tell me that the ladies of court do not fawn over you.”

She thought him handsome! He scarce was able to construct a suitable reply as his head repeated the words like a resounding drumbeat deep inside of his head. “They do not desire myself,” Loki replied truthfully once he quashed the moment of foolish adolescence and burn of desire flickering in his chest. “The ladies that beg for my hand and company seek nothing more than to use me as a device to access Thor. They care nothing for the spare, Valkyrie, only the heir. Also, I am a wielder of magic. They worry about my, ah, feminine tendencies.”

Darcy’s disapproval took on a new form now. “Well, fuck them I say.”

She said it so coolly that he almost doubted his own ears. Loki raised a brow at the calm outburst, a wicked grin slashing across his face as he barked out a low laugh. “I have never beheld a swearing Valkyrie before. It seems I am very fortunate indeed to bear witness to such a rare sight.”

“Because I am no ordinary woman, Valkyrie or not, my dear Prince. I shall speak my mind to whoever is before me and not think twice of it, for it troubles me not.”

Loki agreed heartily. She smiled blindingly before he’d even replied. “That you most certainly are.” And it was true; there was no one quite like Darcy. No one held within them the fire, the passion that burned so intensely for all to see.

What would her reaction be should he lean in and draw their lips together? Would she smile around him and participate, or would she be alarmed, pushing away the young Prince? Because he did still feel so young and childish, sensing the gaps in his knowledge where romance and relationships more keenly than ever these days. Loki was an adult by age, but just barely over the threshold, still as bumbling as a newborn fawn thrown into the leading role of a stag. Adolescence had been nothing but heartbreak and betrayals, of tentatively placing his heart into the hands of women he might have feelings for one day, only to have it crushed at the last moment. Then he had learned. Then he never fell prey to the wolves at his door again.

It all came back to Thor. Everything he touched turned to gold in the eyes of his peers. But to his younger brother, each brush of his fingers brought ruination. What, but Darcy herself, did he not spoil with his childish and blind blundering? His grabbing hands and greedy nature?

Loki took a deep breath, hands clenching into tight fists upon his knees as the familiar tang of bitterness washed over him. It was hard, so hard to remain the shadowed and often hidden moon while Thor remained the ever constant and bright sun.

The Valkyrie’s  all-seeing eyes immediately picked up on the young man’s change in breathing. “What has you troubled, Loki?”

Should he rant? Rave and scream about the injustices of being a second born son to the Valkyrie? She would listen attentively and never consider mocking him. Darcy was kind and patient when he needed it, but stern and firm with her words the other times. But always fair and honest.

“I’d rather not speak of it, personally. Or even give the issue acknowledgement.”

“As you wish.” Darcy sighed, raising a hand to her temple; Loki noticed the familiar shiver shoot through her body straight away, recognising it as the call of her people. It had happened too many times to count in his presence; the Valkyries were missing her and she was to leave. It was a punch in the gut, as it always was, slashing their time together once more. And it was also a stark reminder of the fact Darcy was not free to come and go as she pleased; she gave up her spare time within the walls of Asgard just to spend it with him.

“Well,” Loki began calmly, swallowing back the disappointment, “another goodbye for now, it seems.”

“No.”

He blinked, taking another look at the woman. Had he perhaps misheard her? “Excuse me?”

Darcy’s face broke into a grin unlike nothing he had never beheld upon her beauteous face before, lighting up her dark eyes. It was almost mischievous, the type of look that Thor boasted just before breaking a rule. “No,” she repeated once more, rising to her feet with an aura of purpose burning about her. “Come with me.”

“…pardon? Have you perhaps lost your mind?”

“I am bound for Midgard. Come with me and behold the wild changes that have befallen it during my absence.”

“Is such a thing even allowed-?” Was she playing a joke on him? Perhaps revenge for the drink containing the Bilgesnipe eye from during her last visit? (It transpired that Valkyries could be taken by surprise, much to his utter delight.)

“You would ask so often as a boy, Loki. You would practically beg for me to take you with me during a Reaping of Souls. Furthermore, no one has been brave or indeed dumb enough to attempt such a thing. We would most likely be the first.”

She was not jesting – the manic gleam in her eyes attested to that. Loki slowly glanced to the window, a smile twitching onto his lips as he looked back. Well… there was only one answer to such an alluring question. “Shall I be requiring a coat?”

Lyra tossed her great head back upon their approach, pawing at the ground in eagerness to take to the air once more. Loki walked over and raised a hand to her velvety muzzle, murmuring a soft greeting to the winged horse. “As magnificent as ever, my dear,” he smiled, rubbing his palm between the spot where she would have a blaze.

Darcy tightened the saddle, straightening it up and adjusting the girth. She brushed her hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ears. “Has your magic advanced enough for you to cast adept illusions?” She peered around the saddle at Loki, awaiting his reply with a raised eyebrow.

He nodded, tracing a finger across the beast’s vast chest. “Well enough for this. Though as I understand it, the citizens of Midgard do not possess magic?”

“Only the tiniest of the population, and they do not make that fact known in fear of persecution. I only ask because assimilating will be crucial, depending where we are bound for. Sometimes it is the only thing standing between myself and discovery. The days of swooping down from the heavens like goddesses of war are long since gone.” She hoisted herself up into the saddle.

Loki drew closer, eyes following the movements of the Valkyrie’s boot as she slid it into the stirrups. “I only require seeing the object or costume once, then I shall be fine.”

“Good.” Darcy patted the spot behind her, the broadest of smirks spreading across her face like ink on parchment. “Care for a ride, Prince?”

He’d grown up around horses, of course – riding them and grooming them along with Thor – but this was something else entirely; Lyra was vastly larger than even the most magnificent of Asgardian stallions. Not to mention that she boasted snowy white wings that rustled, itching to taste the starry skies above once more.

Loki cast Lyra another look. “You owe me a new quill, now that I remember. And I will collect, even if you deign to throw me off. Just so that you understand, dear.” He pulled himself up behind Darcy with far less grace than he had been aiming for, almost throwing himself off the other side of the horse. Sniggering, Darcy caught his arm and held him as he steadied himself behind her.

And then came a new dilemma; past holding her hand or brief touches between them, Loki realized that he’d never truly held Darcy before. There were the rare hugs, of course, but this was something else entirely. A new kind of intimate that made him feel strangely awkward. He was so hesitant in placing his hands upon her waist that the Valkyrie even noticed, throwing an amused look over her shoulder at him. “There is a time to be a gentleman, and then there is a time to hold on tight so that you do not fall into the abyss of space.”

Loki tightened his grip a little more, shuffling closer into her back. Darcy had a smell, he realized after a long moment. It was crisp, not unlike the fresh dew upon the morning flowers coupled with something almost sweet. And underneath all that, the faint metallic taste of metal. It wasn’t at all unpleasant, quite the opposite.

Lyra broke into a brisk trot towards the Bifrost, then into a full out run. Loki yelled as they plunged from the side of the Rainbow Bridge, delving into the darkness below as they fell; he forgot decorum – to hell with it! – and promptly threw his arms around Darcy as tight as he could. He let loose some loud and very choice words when the wings snapped open, propelling them into the air with a violent jolt. Pressed against Darcy’s back, he could both feel and hear her raucous laughter, her wild glee as they climbed into the sky, growing faster and faster, the wind whipping his dark hair across his face almost painfully. Chancing a loud breath, Loki glanced behind them; Asgard grew stranger with each beat of wings, twisting at an almost alarming rate, the colours distorting into golds and dark browns shot through with black and emerald greens.

No! Asgard truly was vanishing as he watched! It melted away like dripping wax over a burning flame, the colours comingling into one singular mess of unrecognizable shapes. Loki looked ahead, a roar of rainbow wind pushing the hair from his eyes and filling his ears. It was not the sheen of the Bifrost tunnel up ahead, but something much more wilder and untamed. This was power. A magic that they back on Asgard would never capture for themselves, exclusive only to the magnificent women that made up the legion of the Valkyries. It begged to be revered, cherished in a way that he felt of Darcy.

It struck Loki in that very moment just how insignificant he truly was in the great woman’s presence. One of Asgard’s greatest sorcerers he boasted when opportunities arose, smug that he finally excelled in an area Thor never could or would. But Darcy? Her power far outstripped even Mother’s own. It – she – was unfathomable as the universe itself. No wonder the songs both new and old called the Valkyrie’s the Unattainable Maidens.

He braced himself for the familiar and bitter pang of jealousy, but felt only pride instead. She was one to be admired, not coveted with a fierce and dark desire. Loki would never attain such power and in that moment he felt… content with such a fact. There were other paths for him to take, after all. Hadn’t she told him that upon their first ever meeting?

The world exploded into life as it materialized around them at long last, colours stuttering before forming shapes of fields and even a city beneath them, though that soon vanished long behind them. Loki gasped as the cold air hit him, choking a dry cough from his throat as he adjusted to the colder climes. Lyra settled down surprisingly gently in a field, the grass so green in the hills that it hurt the Prince’s eyes. The ground squelched awfully beneath him as he dismounted and glance down told Loki that his boots were beyond saving, caked to his ankles in thick brown mud. Just perfect. A true Midgardian welcome.

So this was the Midgard of present, Earth as its inhabitants now called it. They’d landed next to a small building, a type of grey stone cottage Loki hazarded at a guess, animals he had never observed before milling about, lowing at odd intervals. A farm, maybe? The herd of horned beasts before him, grazing within the pasture reminded him strongly of the bulls and cows of the mountains, but these animals were tiny in comparison to the Great Bulls that roamed the wilds, making up the centrepiece of every special feast of the Citadel’s enormous halls. Also, they were a curious mix of black and white where the cows of Asgard were a dark gold.

How strange.

Darcy was rubbing her temple when she slid down into the muck also, walking over to stand at his side. There was no disguising the troubled frown upon her face as she began to talk. “I have not felt such terror and agony upon the air for a very long time. There was once a dynasty called Rome, far from this place. There was much debate within the Hall of Valour when it came to deciding whether or not the tyrant emperors deserved a place in the Hall of Heroes.”

“And were they?”

“Some,” Darcy nodded, lowering her hand to her hip. “But not all. One Emperor was so desperate to please the common people that he erected an arena of colossal size where glorified slaves would be forced to fight to the death for their freedom, or to the amusement of peasants. Exotic animals were slaughtered in their droves to simply sate their unquenchable bloodlust.”

Thor would enjoy such a spectacle, Loki thought darkly. A relief, perhaps, that his interest in Midgard had died out many centuries ago and he no longer knew its bloody history. “Barbaric. And now?”

“And now… I fear that the humans are once more at war with themselves. There is so much death in the air. It’s almost choking, how strong it is. Only war leaves that kind of taste, Loki.”

She was indeed breathing harder than she usually did. Loki took her arm and held her steady as she swayed gently on the spot, worry lining his face. “Are you quite alright?”

“I shall be,” Darcy soothed him, nodding to the quaint little cottage. Together they made their way towards it, pausing only when Loki did. But Darcy merely slipped her arm free and made a beeline for the door, hesitating a moment to wipe her muddied feet upon the doormat. Mystified, Loki mirrored her actions and followed her through the cracked and peeling red door.

“What is this place?” Loki placed a hand upon the pommel of his dagger, peering around the dusty singular room.

Darcy lit the candles with nothing more than a wave of her hand, the fireplace bursting into bright and cheerful orange flames. “Think of this place as an illusion given form. It fits itself into the present location as a safe house accessible only to Valkyries and their companions.”

Fascinating. She set his imagination and curiosity ablaze once more.

Humming softly, Darcy sat down before a desk in the corner and began to rifle around the little piles of papers, occasionally pausing to inspect something or another. Loki peered at a newspaper draped across a chair, but could understand none of the strange letters that were so different from runic. The word ‘France’ seemed to be repeated often, whatever it meant. Or wherever it was. He handed the newspaper to Darcy, watching as her expression turned from faintly curious to grim. “Ah… we are in the north part of the country of France. The area they name the Somme, early nineteen-hundreds by their calender. And I was indeed right about the current state of things – the humans fight amongst themselves once more. Today began a battle fought by many sides.”

Humans never changed it seemed like to Loki. So bloodthirsty, no direction at all. Only one step higher from the cows that grazed upon their fields. Ridiculous. “What shall you do?”

She set down the paper, smoothing the crinkles upon the surface with a hand. “My job. Though with such slaughter, there shall be many of my sisters roving the field of battle, searching for the worthy. You shall have to remain here, just in case.” Darcy ran a hand through her hair distractedly, letting loose a sigh of frustration. “I never would have bought you to this place had I known the scale of death that awaited us.” She reached for her hips, freeing two daggers that she handed to him. Loki marvelled at the twin blades; never before had he beheld such a vibrant blue worked into metal. More magic, no doubt. “Keep these for protection – they are spelled. And stay here. Swear it to me, Loki.”

“I swear it, Darcy.”

The Valkyrie’s smile was hesitant as she made for the door, an eagle shaped helmet materializing upon her head, all burnished gold and ceremonial with a plumage of inky black feathers cresting its peak. Loki gripped the cobalt daggers a little tighter as the door snapped shut behind her, loathe to be left behind once more.

Chapter Text

It was just past dawn when a lone figure appeared on the horizon, growing steadily larger as they traversed the waterlogged hills. Though her helmet was gone, he was left under no illusions as to whom it was; he had her silhouette committed to memory long ago. But the Valkyrie that appeared through the gloom was not the Darcy he knew, but akin to the nightmarish tales his brother told by darkness as children, the pair huddled beneath covers and voices hushed to avoid detection from the adults.

Darcy’s shoulders were slumped as she approached the house, scarce noticing as he rushed to the door and threw it wide. His concern only grew at the sight of the woman before him, for she appeared to be streaked with lashings of bright crimson. Her face especially seemed to bear the brunt of whatever had happened. The only part of her not marred by colour was her shining silver blades and wide, staring eyes. A soft, almost ethereal glow emanated about her form. The souls she had no doubt absorbed upon the battlefield of Midgard’s France.

“What happened?” he urged upon her arrival at the door, quickly scanning her armour for slashes or tears. There was nothing, the blood evidently not her own. Tentatively he reached out a hand to brush her stained skin, but the Valkyrie merely waved him aside with a swift jerk of her head, gently moving him aside as she strode into the house without a word.

Behind him, Lyra lowered her head and nickered sadly.

As Darcy shut herself up in the bathroom at the end of the hall, Loki was left stood like a sentinel next to the window once more, wondering. Wondering about what terrible price the Valkyries paid each time they drew a soul into themselves. Surely there was a curse to all the awe-inspiring powers they possessed? And if so, what was it? Darcy explained once, many years ago now, that a Valkyrie felt each soul individually as they took them into themselves. Their emotions, soul and being. And in most cases, they felt the oft agonizing pain of their death. And if a Valkyrie took an army’s worth of souls into her over such a short period of time-? He felt uneasy about the consequences.

Smoke rose over the horizon, trails of dark grey twisting into the periwinkle blue sky as dawn turned into day. The gunfire that had ceased for near an hour had started up once more, echoing over the hills. If Loki blotted out the sounds of war, one could almost deceive their senses into believing it a fine oncoming day. Even more so when the sun began to shine through the weak, cottony clouds. But it wasn’t. Midgard – Earth – would never change. They were incapable of something as sweet as peace, forever courting war like his brother. The man who would be king.

It was disgusting. They were disgusting. Stamping down any hint of magic, leaving themselves with nothing more than the mundane. Was it any wonder that the Nine Realms had seen fit to shun the painfully simple creatures from civilization? And they warred constantly, according to Darcy. They lived and breathed strife.

And now Darcy was suffering because of the little beasts. Could he detest them anymore?

Then the soft, almost inaudible sobs began from behind the bathroom door and Loki could no longer bear to remain silent. It was simply not an option when Darcy was crying. And she had never cried before him before. He’d be lying if he claimed that, in that moment, he wasn’t frightened. Loki was terrified out of his wits at the mere sound of her weeping.

Gathering his courage, he rapped twice upon the door, hand finding the brass doorknob. “Darcy?” he called softly, ears straining for any sound from within. “Are you injured? Let me in, please.” Loki expected stoic silence and no movement within. Or maybe, like a brash warrior of Asgard intent on keeping their pride suitably intact, heated words and snaps and snarls at him to leave her be. But Darcy did neither, pulling the door wide.  

Loki was no innocent when it came to women and their bodies, no matter what his brother claimed. Thor was blatantly obvious in his dalliances, he had always been. Loki not so much, preferring to sleep instead with the occasional married woman who could not abuse his station for fear of sullying her own name and title should they reveal the truth about Asgard’s youngest prince. The women he lay with were hardly special, merely convenient outlets for his frustrations and pent up lust for Darcy. Nothing worth crowing about anyhow. When he looked down at their faces during the throes of passion, Loki saw only Darcy’s instead. When he moaned Darcy’s name into the mouth of the lady, they made no comment. If that made him deplorable, he didn’t care. Weren’t they using him like he was them, after all?

But seeing Darcy stood before him utterly bare, her slim but musculature form mottled with red floored him completely. Words died in his throat, all semblance of eloquence leaving him as his eyes roved her body without his brain’s permission. She was beautiful. So painfully beautiful that he ached to even look at her. Never in any of his wildest fantasies and dreams could he have imagined her to be so…

 Then he caught himself, gaze snapping back to her face. “Darcy,” Loki breathed, only faintly disgusted by the desire lacing his voice so readily. “I-”

 “Get it off me,” she begged almost plaintively, wide eyes boring into his own. “Please.”

The blood marring her body like warpaint.

As quick as the lust had flared up, setting alight his nerve endings and igniting a fire deep within his belly, it was gone. Loki nodded solemnly and led her back into the bathroom, a hand gently brushing her lower back to urge her forwards. When he pulled it away, his fingertips shone a startling ruby. Swiftly he drained the filthy water and began filling it with clean, warm water. Loki supposed that it was magic causing the metal bath to heat it, for there was no fire nearby and only primitive plumbing. A tenderness he never thought possible enveloped him as she perched upon the edge of the tub looking so impossibly small within the expanse of the room. It wasn’t right to behold such a powerful and proud woman brought so low.

Stars above, his heart hammered insistently within his chest. Plus he was wholly convinced that his leather breeches were attempting to strangle his straining, aching cock.

Silently she slipped into the steaming water with his assistance, Loki’s hands gently guiding her down so she did not slip upon the bottom of the tub. “Are there soaps?” he asked as he dragged the wooden stool to her side with a loud scrape. Darcy nodded, indicating to a shelf just above them. Loki retrieved them, plus a purple bar of something lavender smelling.

“Are you injured at all?” Loki dipped his hands into the steaming water, bringing them up her taut back to rinse the red from her skin.

“No,” came her whispered reply.

Loki nodded, moving his hands to her shoulders and bringing the bar of soap against it, rubbing it into a lather that turned purple. He’d been right about the lavender, the smell filling the room. Somehow it seemed too cheerful. “Good. I was concerned.”

Darcy sighed wearily, letting her eyes close momentarily. Loki could feel the tension bunch in her shoulders as he worked at them. “It was more massacre than battle. We had to flee before we could complete the reaping. There was… too much death. Too much to take in. We never stood a chance. Vayld, my sister…” Darcy sniffed, tears once more tracking down her face, leaving fresh streaks upon her cheeks. “She dove into the battle, taking every soul she could touch. Then… then she began to snatch the live ones also…”

“She went mad?” He set the bar of soap down with a deep frown.

“We cannot – must not – take souls that still live. It is amongst the most grievous crimes a Valkyrie can commit. That and interfering with the battle of mortals, changing their history from its course set by the Norns.” Darcy shuddered violently. Not from cold, but something deeper. “She did not go quietly.”

The blood, the haunted look about her eyes, it all suddenly made terrible sense. It was her sister’s lifeblood that stained her skin, not that of humans. The sister she had been forced to strike down.

Darcy began crying again, bowing her face towards the water. It was a bleak, terrible scene. Loki was at a loss at what to say, for how could he possibly comfort her? But still, he had to try. It didn’t sit right with him to leave the woman he cared so much for sobbing so pitilessly. But still, he felt utterly useless.

“Shh,” he soothed her, leaning in and pressing his chest against her wet back, chin resting atop her head. His thumbs rubbed circular patterns upon her arms. Loki hugged her as his mother would him as a small boy. Darcy leaned into Loki, raising a trembling hand to his upon her right shoulder and taking it firmly. She held so tight that Loki wondered if she feared floating away should she not grip him firm enough. “It’s over now, Darcy.”

“But is it?” she whispered, hand stilling upon his. “What if that is my future also? To be cut down in the midst of battle, a raging monster with no sense of who I am?”

“Never,” he growled into her hair. “No monster lies dormant within you.”

“There was none in Vayld. I grew up with her, I knew her well enough.”

Loki closed his eyes and shook his head sharply. “No more. This is not your future, or your fate.”

“It’s the fate of all Valkyrie kind, Loki.” Darcy’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “We… go mad eventually. One cannot draw on souls for eternity, my sweet prince.”

And there it was, after all his wondering. The terrible, awful price of a Valkyrie: her sanity.

Fuck the Valkyrie’s.

Fuck them all into oblivion and beyond!

“Leave.” He buried his face into the back of her neck, breathing heavily. They could not have her. Would not have her. If Loki needed to take on the world to convince whoever needed to listen to his declaration, then so be it. She was his and no one else’s.

“I cannot leave them,” Darcy relayed patiently.

“Why not?” he ground out, frustrated at such a simple answer.

“For the same reasons you remain the prince in the shadows, eclipsed by Thor: duty. Pride also. I am a Valkyrie, my dear Loki, and I will not shy away from my given role simply because of how my story may end. No matter… how violent. It’s strangely fitting, is it not? A violent life and matching death, both chapters glorious.”

Loki couldn’t help but bark out a bitter laugh, face still buried in the nape of her neck. “Now you sound like Thor, like the rest of cursed Asgard! They and their ridiculous notion of… of glorious death. There is no glory in death, Darcy. None! It’s stupid and ridiculous. You cannot believe in such a thing.”

Darcy pulled away, turning to glare at him with her eyes nothing more than narrowed slits. “And who are you to tell me about the nuances of glory and death? I have walked this winding path since before you were born, young princeling. You will not sit there and preach what my whole life has been about, so help me now!” She stood up suddenly, gazing down at him with all the cold imperiousness of a woman who lived and breathed death and destruction and would not be controlled. Loki watched, the urge to fall to his knees and beg the avenging goddesses mercy taking hold of him. But he dragged himself to his feet instead, squaring up to her, refusing to be cowed by her impressive majesty. Even if he felt less than confident.

“I tell you because I do not accept your death as readily as you,” Loki growled out, catching her wrist and holding it fast. “I shall never accept any notion of your death, from yourself or anyone else! And I do not care!”

“Everyone lives and dies, Loki. I’ve told you this numerous times. You need to let go of this childish fear that you have, for it will only bring you pain. It is the way of life, it gives the world balance.”

Stars above he detested the way she stated it so patiently, like a teacher scolding her pupil. He was no child anymore. He was not. Had he not crossed the threshold into adulthood a few years before? Was he not more or less independent, cleverer than Thor could ever hope to be? Was he not someone Darcy could be proud of, maybe even care for? Love?

Loki. Was. Not. A. Child. 

So why was he acting like one, a voice at the back of his mind wondered distantly. Like a small boy petulantly screaming into the night for day to return? Darcy was right: death was inevitable. But that still didn’t mean he was going to lie down and accept hers. If that was being childish, then maybe he wasn’t as much a man yet as he’d thought himself. Maybe her scolding was… was…

He didn’t understand his own train of thought anymore.

“I am not a child, Darcy, so please refrain from treating me as if I am one.” He winced at his own bitterness and bratty tone.

Oh stars… she was going to eat him alive. And he’d deserve it.

Darcy grasped a robe from the hook upon the door and climbed from the tub, wrapping it tight around her bare form as she stared down at him. Or up, seeing how he now towered above her small stature physically. And yet, he still felt so very tiny and inconsequential in her powerful presence, not at all an equal. Exactly like a child to its elder. “I’m not going to scold you,” Darcy snapped, smoothing her hair away from her expressionless face, “because I can already see in your eyes that you’ve just realized your own foolish words. Please leave the room, Loki; I should never have allowed you to see me in such a state, and I apologize for that. If you wait in the main room, I shall be with you shortly to take you back to Asgard.”

“Don’t apologize, Darcy. There’s nothing to-”

“Out, Loki.” She wrenched the door open and waited pointedly beside it. Slowly, reluctantly, the chastised prince walked out, tail set firmly between his legs.

Loki felt… despondent as he yet again acted the sentinel stood beside the steamed up windows. He wasn’t ready yet, that he now understood through the simmering rage deep in his bones aimed at himself, Darcy and the universe. She had been right to imply him a child to his face. He was. And that was… painful to realize. An age, a specific number did not mean maturity. Who was he fooling other than himself? He couldn’t even comfort Darcy sufficiently, offering her nothing than some weak attempt followed by a session in berating. It shamed him to think of.

No more, Loki swore to himself as Darcy stepped from the bathroom, dark hair wet but clean, her ruined armour replaced with a new set coloured shining bronze. No more child and no more adolescent dreaming aimlessly of Darcy absconding with him, or of her drawing him close and kissing him senseless upon the Bifrost bridge for all Asgard to behold. On this path, it could never occur.

So Loki set himself upon a brand-new path, one where he swore he’d become the man Darcy wouldn’t just desire, but deserve. And he’d respect her views and choices, no matter what they may be. No matter how painful also.

Bowing his head at Darcy’s approach, Loki pushed open the cottage door and held it for her to pass through. “Shall we?”

Chapter Text

Over the next five years, Loki was fairly certain that their friendship took a few steps back rather than forwards. Darcy retreated into the Valkyrie he had known as a child: aloof, careful and courteous. She called him Prince if they happened to be in the same room together, always avoiding his gaze where he became ever more desperate to meet it. There were no more secret meetings in the library and no more shared feathers from Lyra. She is a Valkyrie, he told himself constantly after the second year. They are not meant to be tied down by emotion, much less to someone such as yourself.

Frigga of course noticed the way her youngest son seemed to be pining, withdrawing into himself like his Valkyrie, though he subtly denied it each time she asked. Something would have to be done about that.

Loki detested fittings. They had his measurements already, so why did they feel the need to strip him down to his smallclothes and take them again? Maybe the seamstresses just enjoyed watching his face turn from blank and almost amicable into a most unbecoming scowl. The assistants certainly seemed to enjoy the show at any rate, punctuating the occasional silences with low giggles that they were later chastised for. Or maybe it was enjoyment drawn from stabbing him with a multitude of tiny little pins when he so much as twitched.

When the Queen stepped into the room, the women bowed low and greeted her accordingly. At her smile and request for them to leave the room for a moment, they did so without a word.

Loki, however, plucked at the vast swath of sapphire blue silk that was draped around his shoulders like a jagged cape, much too big for his narrow form. “Was this your doing, Mother? I do believe that I am wearing some form of dress.”

“Tsk,” Frigga tutted, walking over and reaching out, smoothing down the lines of his shoulders before brushing her fingers against his cheek. An adoring smile spread across her face. “You are so very handsome. This shade of blue is simply divine on you, my sweetheart. Would you not consider this colour rather than the emerald?”

“Mother, please do not call me that; I no longer cling to your skirts in fear during social gatherings.”

“And do not forget the fact that you are now much too tall to hide beneath them when Thor draws near.”

A low chuckle. “I do believe we both swore to never bring that up again. My brother would never allow me to forget.”

Frigga laughed softly, patting her son’s cheek twice with fondness clear in her gaze. “He would deny it, but your brother has also hid within my skirts as a young boy. Mainly when it was time for etiquette lessons, strangely enough. I do believe he has missed a good portion of them.”

Now Loki truly smirked. “Ah, so at long last we have a definitive reason for Asgard’s heir resembling an intoxicated Bilgesnipe and possessing the manners to match.”

“Your brother is trying,” Frigga gently admonished. “You should not be so quick to lose all faith in Thor.”

But he was losing faith. Thor was brash and a brute also, demeaning at times. What kind of king could he possibly make with a mindset like that? A clever king did not court war, but avoided it in favour of peace. Loki dreaded the day their father announced he was to abdicate in favour of his eldest, for he suspected that it wouldn’t be at all long now; the All-Father grew wearier as the years passed. Loki’s other dread was the moment either his newly crowned king brother or father still upon his throne announced that Asgard’s youngest son was to marry in order to strengthen ties between kingdoms. It would be a princess from Vanaheim judging by recent quarrels, the girl quiet and demure. And Loki would hate her with a passion.

Loki stepped down from the plinth and shook his head distractedly, pulling on his dark tunic after tossing the voluminous robe aside onto his bed. “I do not want to discuss Thor.”

“Then what about your Valkyrie?” Frigga asked, perching herself upon the edge of the emerald velvet covered ottoman at the foot of the vast bed.

His fingers slipped on the buttons at his neck. “She is not my Valkyrie,” Loki replied patiently. Not anymore. Was she ever? She was smoke on the wind, impossible to capture. A beautiful, wild beast that should not be broken.

“What did you quarrel about?”

A burst of rage, hot and intense exploded through him without warning, forcing Loki to face his mother. “Nothing happened! Furthermore, I am not discussing the woman!” he snarled, hands balled into tight fists at his side. He hadn’t meant to snap, it just… happened. The hurt, the regrets and grief leaking out of him after five long years. What a young fool he’d been. And where were they now? Were they even friends anymore since neither of them seemed confident enough to face the other? It… ached like an old scar.

He missed Darcy. It had been hard, so hard without her comforting presence and soft guidance. Loki believed like a fool that the yearning for her would lessen with time, as all pains did. Only this one didn’t. And the guilt gnawed at his stomach as a constant reminder.

Frigga barely batted an eyelid at her son’s outburst. “Perhaps, but this is eating you alive. Tell me.” She patted to the spot at her side, a silent order.

A pause and Loki shuffled over, taking the seat with his shoulders hunched over. She was right, he considered after a moment; it was eating him alive. He began talking with a hesitant breath. “I behaved… abominably towards her while she was overcome with grief. And I did not apologize when I caused her even more pain. I am a fool, and a monster at that.”

“You are not a monster, Loki; you made a mistake, as we all do at times. And with this mistake, you can rectify it.” Frigga pressed her lips to his cheek, twining an arm around his shoulder and drawing him in closer. “It is not too late.”

“It’s been five years.”

“They are but blinks of an eye to us, my dear. And time has made you wiser to your emotions – she will see that also. Do you not care for her still, Loki?”

“I…” he couldn’t quite meet her gaze. “Yes. Of course. But we no longer speak. It is if we are ghosts to another.”

She squeezed his shoulder gently. “She is a proud and independent woman, Loki. Apologize to her, whether she stands to listen to it or not. A woman who has devoted so much time and love into a person like she has you is not one to lose. You would regret it forever.”

But that wasn’t right. Loki frowned, brow furrowing as he turned to stare intently into his mother’s face. “You always spoke against our friendship,” he accused.

Frigga wholly agreed. “When you were young and I feared her taking your heart and shattering it at her whim, yes. But Darcy is not that sort, I have come to see. You’ve both a bond, Loki. That is plain to anyone. One that stretches many hundreds of years. She was there for you when you had no one else. You were such a troubled and lonely little boy, always running to try and catch up with your brother whether you wanted to or not. It gladdened me that you had her to lean on, be she a Valkyrie or not. I’d like for my son to be a happy man where he never was as a boy.”

It frightened Loki just how much his mother saw. She read him like an open book. “You are a terrible busybody, Mother. One might even suspect that you had a hand in writing my fate.”

Her hand slid down from his shoulders to waist, taking it. “We write our own fate, my son.”

“Do not let the Norns catch you saying that,” Loki laughed wryly. “Or fate might decide to no longer be so kind.”

A knock sounded upon the door. “My Lady? We urgently must complete Prince Loki’s new ceremonial robe. We cannot delay no longer if we are to finish it in time.”

One word caught the prince’s attention. “Ceremonial?” Loki shot at his mother, faintly disgusted. “Whatever for now?”

Frigga rose to her feet, ghosting a hand beneath the prince’s chin as she gazed down into his eyes, a twinkle of mischief about her own. “You’ll hear from your brother soon enough. Try not to antagonize him, would you sweetheart?”

“I make no promises.”

“And Loki? Apologize to the Valkyrie.”

“I only see her when-”

“Loki.”

“I shall,” he growled lowly.

Goodness, her youngest son could be as clueless as her eldest when it came to love.

Once the ceremonial robe of sapphire and black silk was accurately measured against his form “What is the black piece intended for?” “A cape, Prince Loki. And hood also,” he slipped from the room, absentmindedly rubbing at his arm where the last pin had poked at his skin. It stung most annoyingly.

Loki did not remain undetected for long as he passed through the long gilded corridors. Walking across the open doors of the great hall, he heard a familiar shout echo from within, calling his name. “Brother! Where have you been? Sulking in your room along with your books?”

Ah, Thor. Just perfect (!) Loki debated feigning deafness and continuing to walk on towards library, but never got the chance as his brother bounded out with all the enthusiasm of a small puppy. Behind him came the Idiots Three, the prince’s ever constant shadows. Whatever they saw in his fool brother was utterly lost to him. But then again, they were as brash as Thor. Maybe they were a match made in Valhalla after all.

But there was four stood behind Thor when he looked twice. Loki blinked at the unfamiliar woman dressed in warriors garb and sword at her hip rather than flowing dress. Her drawn back wheat blonde hair marked her clearly as Asgardian. She seemed almost nervous, hand tight upon the pommel of her blade. How… peculiar. Only her eyes matched her apparel, fierce and hard.

“Company, Brother?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the young woman.

Thor tugged the woman to the forefront of the group, throwing an arm around her shoulders with a wide and beaming grin. Loki almost smirked at the waves of indignation coming off the woman. “Indeed! I’d like for you to meet my newest companion; the Lady Sif! She has aspirations to join the warriors of Asgard – and boasts the talent to do also!”

How very strange indeed. Loki inclined his head towards the woman. “A strange but admirable path for a Lady of Asgard.” According to his brother’s stalwart companions, women shouldn’t be warriors. He’d like for them to claim that before Darcy just to watch her destroy them utterly.

One of Thor’s doltish companions snickered. He never could recall the dumb blond’s name. Handrel, was it? Hanreel? Something of the sort, anyway. Not worth remembering at any rate. “Prince Loki here is a great advocate of female warriors in the ranks, Lady Sif. So much so that he even has a Valkyrie at his beck and call to warm his bed! You’ll want to keep your leathers firmly done up, lest he divest you of them completely.”

Loki’s smile was tight. “Why would I desire her company if I, as you put it, have a Valkyrie at my beck and call?”

Fandral. Was that it? “Because it must truly destroy your pride to be the woman in the relationship! I did not know that Valkyrie’s enjoyed whores!” he crowed, causing the group to burst out laughing, the sound echoing around the hall.

Ah, the familiar jibes at his stature and skill with magic. His feminine tendencies. Of course. Could they never think of anything new? Were they incapable of such a thing? Even the woman was laughing, though it was more half-hearted – clearly she knew to watch her tongue. For now at least. That’d soon change the more she lingered around the infantile quartet. But just in case she did not remember her manners…

“Sif-!” Thor suddenly exclaimed, eyes widening and laughter swiftly falling silent. “Your hair-!”

It was with a vicious joy that Loki watched the woman pull her hair from its leather tie, screaming as the beautiful flaxen locks darkened and turned dry, almost brittle to the touch. Let her feel his pain just for one moment. Let her suffer over something as simple as the colour of one’s hair. It was cruel, but in that moment he didn’t quite care.

“Loki!” Thor bellowed, rounding on him. “Enough! Turn her hair back, now!”

“Whatever do you mean, Thor?” he shrugged uncaringly, voice genteel. “I did nothing. Perhaps she spontaneously developed magic?”

“This is too far, brother!”

Oh, Thor did not know the meaning of too far. Thor had no idea just how far he could go if he wished to. Thor could not conceive just what he could make his magic do now. Five years of constant belittling and a lifetime of snide comments and pinches and prods came out of him in an explosion. “Too far? No, it is you who go too far! A pathetic excuse for a boy angling to become a king. You cannot treat your equals with respect, so what hope does the common people have?!”

The dwarf whistled from behind Thor, voice a low mutter that Loki still picked up on. “That Valkyrie must not be very satisfying if your brother is this wound up.”

Could he tear him apart? Rip the dwarf’s head clean from his body and set it alight, perhaps? It was a very tempting prospect.

Loki snorted, spreading his arms wide with his eyes chips of cold steel. “Take a look at what you choose to associate with, brother. Take a long, hard look at them, then at yourself. Perhaps engage a mirror for another reason than preening. You are less a man now than when you were a squalling infant.”

With a growl, Thor stalked forwards and caught the front of his brother’s tunic, holding him fast. “Have a care how you speak, Loki,” he hissed into his face. “My patience wears thin.”

“As they so eloquently put it, Thor: fuck you.”

The next thing Loki was aware of was soaring through the air, the back of his head colliding against the long wooden table with a sickening crack of bone and splintering of wood.

Thus was the second time Loki died at his brother’s hand.  

Coming around, Loki was keenly aware of the way his head throbbed in time with his pulse, rising and falling like a red tide of pain. Opening his eyes revealed the familiar evergreen of the canopy over his bed. He was alive then. Or this was one very peculiar dream. Usually his visions during the night were much more adventurous than this. Loki dreamed often of the portals between the realms, the secrets of Yggdrasil that Darcy had shown him when they’d had a moment or two to breathe. There was a gateway to the Dark World in the mountains, just past the Valley of the Kings, but she refused time and time again to take him there, much less show him its exact location. “It’s a cold, unfeeling world, Loki. The stink of death is overwhelming. I pray you never have to venture there, for I fear you might never come back.”

He’d found the gateway eventually, but didn’t dare venture through; Loki wasn’t fool enough to ignore her stark warnings. Though Thor begged him for knowledge on the secret paths, Loki never gave any up; he’d only bring war down upon them when he was caught sneaking about another realm without permission.

Most of his dreams involved Darcy. In fact, nearly all of them included her in some way. So maybe this was a dream, for when he sat up with a soft groan, Darcy was stood at the window, gazing out over the vast gardens and grounds of the palace.

She turned at his sudden noise of pain and they simply stared at each other for a long moment.

And stared.

“Darcy?” Loki ventured, unsure what to say past breaking the silence. What was that… expression upon her face? He couldn’t place it. But it made him feel uneasy.

“Loki,” she exhaled in a loud rush, over to his side in a second. Loki sat utterly stunned as the woman threw herself at him, drawing him into a tight hug as she buried her face into his neck.

What was he missing?

 Why was she h-? Oh.

Oh.

“Did I die?” he asked quietly into her hair.

“Yes,” she gasped, squeezing him all the tighter.

Thor had… “Not permanently, I trust?” Loki asked, feeling utterly numb but for the throbbing in his head. He raised a hand, stroking it down Darcy’s back comfortingly without conscious thought.

Darcy shook her head, breath shaky upon his neck. “No. No… it was like how we met. I…” she drew away, eyes rimmed red. Loki winced as she smacked a hand against his shoulder, and not lightly either.

“Ow-! What are you doing?!” He rubbed at his shoulder indignantly.

“Never do that to me again. Never. You hear me?” she snarled, grasping his shoulders tight and making it ache even more. “You hear me?!”

“Believe me when I say that I did not intend to die in any way shape or form.” Stars above, her grip was so tight. “Could you loosen your hold, please? It’s rather painful.”

She did release her vicelike grip, but only marginally. “Tell me that you won’t do it again,” Darcy hissed, shaking him sharply and making his head whirl. “Swear it.”

“I swear! Now get... off! Unless you wish for me to release whatever is in my stomach all over you, fool Valkyrie!”

At last Darcy let go, sitting back with her chest heaving and hands wound into the covers before her. Loki groaned, lying back down with his eyes clenching tight shut against the sunlight streaming into the room. Was she trying to kill him again? No, logic told him. No… this was Darcy when she was scared, furious beyond reason. This was akin to the Darcy he had watched cry her eyes out over slaying her fallen sister.

Darcy had gotten the call of his demise, of course she had; she was the Valkyrie emissary of Asgard, the warrior that ferried the souls of the dead to Valhalla. She had arrived in Asgard to take his soul into herself and journey beyond with it until she reached his final destination. Wherever that may be. And yet again Loki had cheated death. But not without a cost: Darcy had been deep in mourning before he’d awakened. He’d upset her once more.

Fantastic (!)

“I’m alive,” Loki assured her softly. “Come here.”

He watched her shadow upon the wall hesitate for a long moment before it shifted. Darcy slowly crawled up the bed until she was at his side, propped up on her elbow. It was horrible, truly awful to behold such lingering fear in a Valkyrie’s eyes. Even worse in Darcy’s ever fearless gaze. Loki raised a hand and brought it to her cheek, thumb tracing the plump line of her bottom lip. “I am sorry, Darcy,” he told her before the vestiges of bravery left him, voice scarce a whisper. “For these past five years, for every transgression I have ever made against you. And now for this. Could you ever forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Loki.”

“There is,” Loki insisted, hand sliding down her neck to her shoulder; she shuddered softly at his touch. “I was a fool.”

Darcy’s eyes, still tinted red, flickered down towards his hand. “Then I am also since I ran away and then proceeded to hold you at arm’s length. I couldn’t approach you. I didn’t know what to say, and then neither of us tried and I just… gave up. I had to. It was kinder, easier that way for the both of us. But no, it was cowardly and shameful of me to abandon our friendship so easily like I was waiting for an excuse.” She let out a soft, almost broken laugh. “When I was told it was you… stars above…” Loki allowed her to burrow into his chest, clinging tight to him. He patted her back, letting her sob softly into him.

“Friendships are so precious to us,” she whispered, sounding so painfully vulnerable. “They are so few and far between. It’s such a lonely life, being a Valkyrie; we wander the expanse of space, never lingering long enough to create companions or anything more. And I was gifted with this. With you. And I so nearly lost that.”

Loki had never imagined that he could possibly mean so very much to her. Darcy never spoke of these things, always interested in listening to his own trials and tribulations all his life without complaint. He’d no idea that she was as dependant on him as he was her. The last five years had been hell for the both of them and a blind man saw more than he did.

It was Darcy who initiated the kiss; she took his face into her hands with a gentleness that he’d never seen from her before and crossed the short distance between them, bringing their lips together for one long, resounding moment where time seemed to stop completely. Loki’s head spun wildly. Then didn’t stop as the pain flared up once more, pounding at the inside of his skull. With a wince he very reluctantly placed his hands upon her waist and drew back, laughing breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”

But Darcy just giggled, fingers dancing across the line of his jaw as she pressed her lips against his temple briefly. “I understand. A rain check?”

Loki frowned, utterly puzzled. “Rain-?”

“Oh! A Midgardian phrase. I was there last night; it means ‘shall we pick this up at a later date?’”

“I’d be very put out if we didn’t.”

Darcy smiled so brightly that Loki thought he’d been momentarily blinded by her happiness. Surely he was dreaming, or truly dead.

Chapter Text

“How carelessly you treat your own family!” the King of Asgard raged, bringing Gungnir down hard upon the floor with a resounding bang that echoed throughout the throne room. Thor kept his head bowed, both shame and fear running wild within him. He was no longer a child and while this was still an accident, it could have easily been avoided if he’d a better hold of his temper. He knew that and Odin did, bellowing it for all to hear.

Odin leaned over, other hand gripping the arm of the throne. “Had your brother not been more resilient to your attack, I would be forced to punish my own son far more severely than I plan to. You are not ready in any sense of the word. In fact I fear that you never shall be if you continue to be so careless and brash, so quick to strike at those who dare speak their mind.”

Thor felt… tiny. He couldn’t find it in his heart to rage at the old man’s words, because they were all too true. Hadn’t Loki told him as much? And then he’d… killed his brother once more.

Odin rose to his feet, staring down with a cold, imperious look. “I have never been more disappointed in you, Thor Odinson. If you were not my firstborn, had Loki been your twin and not your younger, it would be he in contention for the throne. Your brother at least seems to possess some semblance of humility and common decency.”

“I am sorry, Father,” Thor apologized once more, head still bowed low towards the floor. “I will endeavour to make you proud of me once more.”

A low, weary sigh. “You are to be sent to Vanaheim, to be with your Mother’s family. And to learn, I pray to the Norns.”

“For how long?” he ventured cautiously.

“Until I deem you worthy enough of the name of Odinson once more.”

“I… understand, Father.”

Thor came by the library alone the next day, his loud and noticeable footsteps immediately identifying him. Loki did not deign to look up from his studies, even when his brother sat down beside him. The blond’s chair scraped with a loud screeching sound against the stone as he pulled it in. His brother still did not look away from his book. It still hurt that his brother would harm him so easily, the pain clawing at his chest like a beast attempting to tear itself free.

“Loki, I am sorry.”

Silence.

“So this is how it is to be? Ignoring me?”

“I am busy, Thor,” Loki replied patiently, turning the page.

“Yes, reading.” Thor reached down and plucked the heavy tome from his hands, twisting it to inspect the title upon the embossed leather cover. “’The Transmutation of–’ what is this drivel you are reading?”

Loki grabbed the book back before the oaf tore a page out with his stumbling. “In terms your simple brain may understand, it is the art of changing one element into another. Or a state of being into another. I believe this is the basis of crude alchemy.”

“What happened to your illusions?”

“Unlike bludgeoning objects to death with a sword, magic is an art with many different paths.” It was like trying to explain logic to a squalling child. Only Thor was a child whose temper tantrums could kill. “Or is that too difficult for you to understand also?”

Thor lounged back in his seat, an eyebrow raised. “You still have not accepted my apology.”

Loki slammed the book down upon the table, rounding on him with a glare. “And if I do not choose to accept it, shall you strike me down once again, Brother?”

“I am sorry, Loki. When the healers fought to bring you back, doing so only narrowly… I mourned. You cannot begin to understand the sorrow I felt in that moment.”

More likely for himself, knowing the price his actions would bring upon his head. Had he not been a prince, Loki was prepared to bet that their father would have elected a much harsher punishment. It was a grievous sin to harm a fellow Asgardian, and for murder the penalty was public execution by beheading. Banished to Vanaheim for a short number of years? It was a vacation. Plus it meant that Odin didn’t have to deal directly with Thor for a time. So what punishment was that, exactly?

“I have long ceased caring for what you feel, since it is evident you care nothing of my own.” He’d only just managed to be rid himself of the chronic headaches that plagued him. Now Loki felt the scratching of their return.

Boots sounded upon the stones, coming to a swift halt. “What are you doing in here?” Darcy growled softly, eyes narrowing as they fixed themselves upon Thor. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”

“Lady Darcy.” Thor rose to his feet and bowed his head towards her in respect. “I cannot apologise en-”

“You are damned,” Darcy spat, stalking over until she was in the prince’s face, eyes a blazing storm of fury. To his credit, Thor did not recoil or flinch. “When you fall in pointless battle – and you will – no one shall come to collect your soul. I will never consent to collect that foul and shrivelled thing, and I shall make it my life’s mission that no one else shall if need be. May you lie screaming at the gates of Hel for all eternity, Prince Thor, because Valhalla will never consent to take in a creature of war like you.”

Loki marvelled, for there was true fear in Thor’s eyes at the Valkyrie’s words. How easily Darcy could lay him low in a way Odin never could. For one moment he was certain that the proud prince was about to throw himself at her feet and beg for mercy, but it sadly never came as his mother arrived, drawn by the shouting and heated words.

“Thor,” she admonished quietly, hands clasped before her, “Loki.”

“I merely came to apologize, Mother, and nothing more,” Thor was quick to explain, stepping away from Darcy and her thunderous expression.

“The pain is still too raw for apologies,” Frigga told him carefully, walking over and brushing a hand against his arm. Darcy could spy rare steel in the woman’s eyes. “Allow your brother to heal first, please.”

“I… yes Mother,” Thor sighed, glancing once more at Loki and the Valkyrie before shuffling from the room, his shoulders hunched and head low. He’d soon be back to normal, Loki thought dryly.

Loki scooped up his book, holding it under his arm. Stars above, how his head throbbed once more. “I must rest for a while, I believe.”

Darcy nodded, concern flitting across her face as she brushed a hand against his own, so discreetly that Frigga barely noticed it. Though when she did, she felt herself fighting back a smile. Finally. “I shall see you at dinner,” the Valkyrie assured him.

“Of course, my dear.” He left.

With an exhausted sigh, Frigga sank down into a chair, bringing a hand up towards her forehead briefly. “I pray that you are never blessed with sons. They can be more trying than war at times.”

Darcy took the abandoned seat of Loki’s, unbuckling her belt and setting down her twin swords upon the table with a soft clatter. “I cannot have children,” she told the queen frankly. “A Valkyrie in service is neither allowed, nor able to; there is a danger to the child, after all – their souls are so fragile that we may reap them entirely by accident or without knowledge.”

“That is very sad, Lady Darcy. Is there no way at all? Those who leave the Order, perhaps?”

The Valkyrie nodded. “Of course there are ways, but none that come without great personal cost. The Valkyrie of this age are born from those with the blood already in their veins, passed down from an ancestor. It never dilutes, Valkyrie blood. If it manifests fully, it does not matter who you are, for it will consume you.”

“Lady Darcy, you were from Midgard I believe? I hope you do not mind Loki discussing your origins with me?”

“Not at all. I’ve nothing to hide, after all, Queen Frigga.” Darcy laughed, glancing up towards the ceiling. “I am indeed from Midgard, though from an age very different to the one it is now. When I was born, the great civilisations were just beginning. They worshipped the sun, the stars and all the cosmos as gods. My magic was considered a gift at the beginning of my life by my people, but then I began to touch the souls around me. Cursed I was called. Blackened. My parents already detested what I was, so it was easy for them to join their fellows in branding me a creature of darkness. They handed me to the high priests to sacrifice without a second thought.”

“Oh my! That is… I’ve no words, My Lady. They truly would sacrifice you-?”

“Gladly. My parents were born in another country and taken as slaves, so I was born a slave also. Our overlords routinely sacrificed slaves to the Gods in hope of appeasing them and bringing rain to their fields and prosperity to their river which was their life-force in the vast desert. Their Gods were never real, however. Though dark spirits did try to assimilate them, they never succeeded in gaining a foothold.”

Frigga placed a hand against her chest. “The Valkyrie’s came for you in time?”

Darcy laughed darkly. “No. Their priests surrounded me upon that alter and performed their rites to their false gods with heads of animals, bringing that dagger down towards my heart. In my fear I reached out and destroyed their souls in one blast, obliterating their bodies also. It was that moment that the Valkyrie’s visiting Midgard realized that I existed and came for me. Had they not been nearby, I would be long dead.”

What a harsh, cruel beginning, Frigga thought sadly. Was it little wonder that Loki had come to detest Midgard so intensely? There was little good to associate the realm with after all.

“What are your thoughts of the realm of this age?”

“That they still court war like your son. They have been warring amongst themselves for a number of years now. A ‘Great War’ the nations call it.” Darcy laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “There shall be another war very soon if they continue in this way. The Valkyrie’s no longer visit Midgard as of recently – there is simply too much death and destruction, and that in turn is causing our numbers to dwindle. With how rare we are becoming, Midgard must remain lost to us. Though for the great heroes, I choose to make an exception. They are few and far between, but they are admirable. It is only they that keeps me from truly giving up all hope for the entire realm.”

“If only my sons were more like you, Lady Darcy.”

Darcy raised a solitary eyebrow. “Ah, but I do not believe that there has been Asgardian Valkyrie in a very long time – they are too brash and proud for that.” She dropped her voice lower. “Nor has there ever been a Jotun one.”

“Jotun?” Frigga asked, politely puzzled. Her heart hammered.

“Do not insult my intelligence, Queen Frigga,” Darcy said amicably, pressing her hands flat against the table. “I was baptized in fire upon my first true outing as a Valkyrie. Or ice, seeing as I was designated Jotunheim along with my sisters during the Asgardian war with the Frost Giants. I have seen much from both sides.”

Frigga cast a silencing charm upon the table, falling around them like a dome. “So we are not overheard,” she explained calmly. “I will not bring him more pain by outing him so carelessly. You have always known what Loki is?”

“Always; I was there during the final days of the war, heavy casualties on both sides. But my last charge of the battle was not an Asgardian warrior, or even a Jotun Sentinel – curiously, it was a young Jotun mother who fell protecting her child against Asgardian soldiers who were drunk on bloodlust. She did not even raise a blade to them in her own defence when they cut her down, too concerned with shielding her son.”

Frigga sat silent for a time, letting Darcy’s heavy words sink in. Could it be real? Had the terrible truth hidden from her for so very long-? It was abominable. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “I was told that he was left in a temple. Abandoned and left to die alone on the ice. That he was too small to be… useful. No one was nearby when Odin…”

Ah, Odin.

“Your husband and King plucked Jotunheim’s prince from his dead mother’s grasp,” Darcy told her bluntly, the old rage bubbling up. “I was there to observe it, kneeling at his mother’s side as I tended to her brave heart. He cut down those that slaughtered her, but for his own gain of a future pawn rather than justice. Had I spoken, made any attempt to interfere, he would have attempted to kill me also.”

“No, he would never-”

“It was war, Queen Frigga.” Darcy said bitterly, watching the tears begin to slide down the woman’s face. “Terrible atrocities are committed during war, and they never tell those back at home of them. And husbands always lie to their wives when they come home, eyes haunted and souls broken. It’s better to lie than receive pity.”

“I do not know what to say,” Frigga breathed, a hand to her mouth and eyes wide. “I love Loki. He is my son as much as Thor is. I love them both equally and do not care about what he is. And Odin…”

“No,” Darcy snapped, holding up a hand. “I do not wish to discuss him. I’d rather discuss how he as well as you decided to lie to him. To continue lying all his life. Do you believe that he will understand and be kind about it? Thank you, maybe? Because he will not. The moment your deception is realized, that man I care for right now will cease to be and turn into one very different. He will never trust you, Odin or Asgard ever again. This is his identity, and he is barely comfortable with Asgard as it is.”

“You knew,” Frigga accused gently. “You did not tell him.”

“No, I did not. For two reasons: one, a Valkyrie cannot interfere with these matters. We are shadows only, no matter how much I loathe that fact. And I would not tell him anyway, for it is not my place to; that is yours and Odins. This is not my crime, though I will always feel as if it is.”

“I shall speak with Odin, make no mistake about that.” Darcy had never heard such anger coat the woman’s voice. She was so soft and gentle, so lovely and kind. Darcy admired her for it, thankful for the influence she had over Loki, and for teaching him his magic. “Oh, I intend to have very strong words with Asgard’s king this evening about this transgression. That Loki was taken so needlessly… it pains my heart to know.”

Darcy rose to her feet, expression sad as she gazed down at the softly weeping Queen. “Your husband claims that Jotun’s are unfeeling and as cold as the realm they inhabit, but you should remind him that Loki is anything but that. And that Jotunheim’s king mourned the death of his son, and still does. Good day, Queen Frigga.” She turned away to leave.

“Is that why you visited him so often when he was young, after the accident?” Frigga asked before Darcy left the shield of silence. “Because of what you witnessed in Jotunheim?”

Darcy didn’t turn to face her. “At the beginning when he was a child, yes. Then he grew up and I fell in love with the man he became. I should have acted anyway, should have protected his mother...” She closed her eyes. “I will always love and protect him, Queen Frigga, and damn the consequences. Call that my penance for my inaction, and it is a price I will always pay gladly.”

Chapter Text

Darcy had been gone for months now. Loki was far from worried – she’d left for periods of time far longer than mere months before. She would be back eventually, drawn by the inevitable death of a warrior as she always was. So he trained with his daggers, he busied himself however he could whether it was by magic, politics or simply pissing off the Idiots Three however he could with sly tricks.

The Einherjar sentinel fell six months after Darcy’s departure, struck down by bandits deep within Asgard’s forest. From what Loki had heard of the report, the man had taken the entire group down along with him. Darcy would definitely be coming that very day with such a magnificent death, so he excused himself from his duties, ignoring any protestations as he strode swiftly from the room and down the sprawling golden corridors.

No one stood at the royal stables, its back nestled against the vast expanse of space, the stars glittering brightly. Loki leaned against the stall of a black mare, occasionally raising a hand to rub at the horse’s nose as she butted into his shoulder in search of a treat. “Sorry girl,” he apologized upon the fifth nudge of her nose. “Maybe tomorrow.” He gazed up towards the sky, waiting patiently for the telltale flash of colour against the endless black. The mare had long since given up when the burst of light came in the far distance, an echoing neigh causing Loki to jolt out of his stupor. Then he readied himself.

Darcy touched down gracefully, Lyra tucking in her vast wings with a loud flutter as she slowed from a run to a trot, then came to a standstill as her rider slid down, a smile wide upon her beauteous face at the mere sight of him. “Loki!” Darcy laughed, striding over towards his perch by the stable door, opening her arms to wrap them tight around him. “Oh how I have missed y-!”

The Valkyrie screamed in surprise as she only succeeded in falling through the illusion of him, arms folding around herself instead.

A bark of laughter was his greeting. When Darcy turned around, her eyes narrowed slits, Loki raised his hands in surrender. “You didn’t see that coming?” he enquired innocently, backing up until he almost reached Lyra’s haunches. “After all, you did teach me that one when I was a mere child.”

“Ridiculous man” Darcy tutted as she strode over and grasped his arm, wrenching him over and into her chest with a soft oof. Loki made to laugh once more, but then caught sight of the fresh scar marring Darcy’s right jawline; it was as long as his forefinger and as thin as the flat side of a dagger. He frowned and raised a hand, catching her by the chin so he could inspect it more closely.

“Have you been antagonizing the wrong people, my dear?”

Darcy slapped his hand away without warning, rubbing at her jaw. “I spoke my mind,” she stated distractedly, bringing her hands down to his hips. “They took offence. Obviously they are dead now.”

“Obviously. Can you not get rid of it?”

The Valkyrie smiled teasingly, leaning in to press a brief kiss against his cheek. “Am I unsightly to you now, perhaps?”

“You could never be that to me.”

“Oh, that’s good to know. Especially since I have many more than this upon my body.” Darcy’s lips moved from his cheek to his mouth and Loki felt himself get lost within her intoxicating embrace. Darcy kissed like a firestorm, devouring every part of his mouth with a ravenous hunger. His back met the unyielding wood of the stable door and Loki felt her giggle breathlessly against his lips, pulling back just enough to speak. “I’ve wanted to do that for months.”

“As have I,” he panted out while wishing his hands would do something useful and not just… hang so uselessly at his side. “Though I have never seen you so very… passionate. What is the occasion?”

Darcy smiled, fluttering a kiss to each of his cheeks in turn. “Valkyrie’s have no reserve, Loki. Not in love or in war. We throw ourselves into them both without fear and let ourselves burn.”

Loki nodded, finally making his arms move; his hand slipped between their bodies, resting at her thigh. She moaned softly as his thumb began to trace firm circles upon the inside. “I do believe that this Darcy just might be my favourite,” he purred against her lips.

“And which Darcy is that?”

“One that is so teasing. As well as receptive.

“Oh you’ll pay for-”

“My Lady Valkyrie?”

The pair sprang apart without a second thought, Loki clearing his throat as he smoothed down the front of his leather tunic and Darcy mirroring him. He only noticed now the spots of red staining her cheeks. It was a glorious sight indeed, and one Loki had seen only a handful of times. “Yes?” Darcy asked the palace guard as he came around the corner, stopping before the pair and bowing. Loki didn’t respond as he addressed him also, too frustrated at the interruption. Of all the fucking times… Of all-!

“The All-Father requests your presence,” the guard said, his blank expression telling them nothing of the reason.

Darcy nodded, glancing over to Loki. “Could you have Lyra put in a stable, Prince Loki? She requires food also, if the stable hands would be so kind. It has been a long journey.”

He bowed his head, reply courteous and silky. “Of course, Lady Valkyrie. We shall conclude our discussion at a later date.”

There was promise in those glittering, teasing eyes as Darcy flashed him a wink only he could see. “Sooner than you think, my Prince.” Then Darcy turned away and followed the guard, leaving Loki’s eyes to fall upon the tantalizing sway of her hips as she went.

Promises promises.

Thor sent letters often enough that Loki knew exactly what his brother was up to that particular week during his exile to Vanaheim. This time he was to seek absolution upon a Pillar of Solitude. Loki didn’t claim to have any idea what such a thing was, only that he hoped that Thor didn’t end up knocking the most likely revered object of the Vanir down. Or broke it. Or both, actually. But Thor also sent almost endless pages of apologies, begging for Loki to reply at long last. For his forgiveness.

He tried. Loki tried so hard to pen a suitable reply, but it was impossible to pull his shattered thoughts together into anything coherent. The more he read Thor’s letters, the progress his brother had made over the months, the more he began to slowly accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Thor was indeed remorseful. And that was… somewhat terrifying to consider. Hadn’t he vowed many years ago now to hate his older brother until the day they both died, and then beyond in Valhalla? But the more Loki thought about it, the more his head hurt. So once again he didn’t bother to pen a reply. Let the oaf stew and wallow some more first before he deigned to reply.

“Have you heard from your brother yet?”

Loki’s reaction was swift upon being startled; the dagger sat atop his desk was within his grasp, then soaring towards the closed door before he could stop himself.

Darcy merely stepped aside, allowing the shining metal of the blade to sink deep into the dark wood. She raised an eyebrow before wrenching it out, turning it within her palm as she walked over towards him. “Your reflexes are getting faster.” She dumped the blade back onto the desk with a soft tinkle of metal. “But not fast enough to slay a Valkyrie.”

“Perhaps you should try knocking first?” Loki offered grumpily, taking the blade and slipping it into his belt where it vanished.

“Why bother? We both know that I’ll dodge it.”

“It’s the day that you don’t that I fear.”

“I assure you that such a day will not be anytime soon.” Loki moved slightly in his chair to make accommodation for Darcy as she perched herself upon his knees, drawing in the unfurled sheaf of parchment from his brother before her. He said nothing as she scanned through the page, carefully reading Thor’s latest letter. When she was done, she dropped it back down with a titter. “Is he like this in all of them?”

“Worse,” Loki assured her, pressing his forehead against the spot between her shoulders. “The begging is akin to a dog. Upon his return, I should have a kennel erected in the palace gardens in his honour. Also, what did the All-Father want of you?”

Darcy twisted in his lap, resting her head back against his shoulder. Loki groaned lowly as she ground against him accidentally, clenching his teeth, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, nothing to concern yourself about. Merely something of Valkyrie nature. It’s nothing to discuss, nor interesting. What I’d rather discuss is what happened earlier before we were so rudely interrupted.”

“Oh? I believe I was welcoming you back to Asgard. And you were being exceptionally thorough about it.”

“Well in that case-”

A resounding knock sounded upon the door. Loki couldn’t hide his frustrated snarl, shifting Darcy from his lap to stalk over to the door and wrench it half open before the messenger even had a chance to speak. “What?!”

To his credit, the man did not flinch at his growl, nor the prince’s eyes that were alight with fury. “The King desires your presence.”

“I am busy,” Loki deadpanned. “Couldn’t possibly make it.”

“I’m afraid that he was insistent that you come as soon as possible.”

Loki’s hand tightened upon the door, grinding his back teeth to hold back the venomous quips. “I’m certain that the All-Father can wait just a little while longer for my business to conclude.” He didn’t wait for the man’s reply, simply shutting the door in his face with a resolute bang that echoed down the corridor.

Perhaps Odin knew, Loki theorized as he pressed his forehead to the door. Perhaps the old man was at long last going to pay attention to the rumours that swirled around ‘the Valkyrie and that prince.’ It had only taken him nearly a thousand years. But Frigga had sworn to him many times that he didn’t care, content that they were discreet in their friendship and adventures. Was it possible that the King objected to their fragile, fledgling relationship? But… No, it wasn’t possible that anyone else knew about that. Loki had been careful before, and even more so now after his outburst with Thor. It wasn’t about he and Darcy.

Stars above, he was becoming paranoid. And he didn’t like it.

Darcy spoke from somewhere behind him. “You should change if you’re about to see the All-Father; there’s probably horse shit on your boots.”

“Like I said, he can wait. Odin isn’t going anyw-” Loki stopped dead upon turning, catching sight of Darcy. She stood before the foot of his bed, a swathe of deep green draped around her form, positively dwarfing her small stature as she drew it tighter around her. “I do believe that is my cape you are wearing,” Loki remarked calmly so he didn’t just walk over and throw her onto the bed like some savage. She looked so… radiant wearing his colours.

Darcy glanced down, adopting an air of innocence as she plucked at the emerald fabric covering her armour so completely, rolling it between her fingers. “Oh, this thing? Are you certain? I was convinced that it was a drape, or a curtain abandoned over your ceremonial armour.”

He did love it when she played with him. “Positive. You should hand it over to me. Perhaps along with the rest of your clothes?”

Darcy gasped theatrically, pressing a hand against her chest while she acted suitably outraged. “But my Prince-! You would not divest an innocent lady of her clothing, would you?”

Loki smirked, leaning back against the door as his eyes slowly roved up and down her slender figure, settling at the swell of her breasts. Though they were nothing more than a shape beneath the green, he remembered how perfect they were from their disastrous trip to Midgard. After all, it was impossible not to recall such a sight and if he had his way, he’d see it again in just a few moments. “Hmm… I would not rip it from you. Rather, I would slowly peel each fold away from your body, then followed by your armour. I would place my lips to each inch of flesh exposed by my actions. Every inch, darling.”

A slow smile spread across her face. Darcy twirled a corner of the cape, her eyes hooded as she sauntered a step closer. “The things you say, my Prince.  And what would you do with me once I was stripped bare?”

“Why, worship your body in the way it deserves, of course.” The game was truly afoot now.

Darcy raised a hand and beckoned him with a single, solitary finger. His feet carried him over immediately, hands catching her hips without preamble. “Such pretty promises,” Darcy whispered as her lips chased his own for a moment. “But I do not lie down upon my back and consent to simply take it, as they say.”

“I’d be disappointed if you did; was it not you who told me that Valkyrie’s are unreserved in both love and war?”

“So adorable. It can listen.” Darcy giggled as his questing lips found the junction of her neck and shoulder, allowing him to back her up towards the bed and gently lie her down upon it. She shimmied further up the silky covers until her head found one of the plush pillows. Then she reached up and drew him down into her embrace, the forgotten cape spreading across the bed like a pot of spilled emerald ink.

But then she hesitated, causing Loki to also. “I… can’t do this. I have to go soon,” Darcy sighed against his lips, hands sliding around to his back where they tangled themselves within his hair. “And your father will not wait forever. Fate intervenes once more it seems.”

“No,” he growled, burying his face back into her neck and kissing at it with an open mouth. “Stay for a little longer. Stay with me.” She couldn’t leave now. Not when their meetings were still so few and far between. Darcy’s gaze seemed almost sorrowful when Loki met her usually bright eyes, but he chose to ignore it, instead bringing his body down to grind against her own and eliciting the most divine sound he’d ever heard from between her lips.

“Loki, it’s my duty,” Darcy gasped out, hands grasping his hips to hold them fast before he ground against her once more. “I can’t stay, no matter how much I’d like to. Truly, it would harm us both if I stayed too long this time. You must trust me on this.”

“Fuck them” he spat, cursing the Valkyrie Order that called his lover away from so far across the stars. They treated her akin to an animal at their beck and call. Was she allowed no freedom, always cursed to a life of blood and death? Or flitting around the cosmos? Loki loved Darcy and respected her deeply, but this was no way to live. She deserved so much more. “Is this what you desire? To perform this sacred duty until you eventually go mad and is ruthlessly butchered by your ‘sisters?’”

Darcy whined lowly, closing her eyes. “Not this again, Loki. Please.”

“Darcy, listen – I don’t care about the Valkyrie Order and I don’t care about your ‘glorious’ mandate. Not anymore. The only thing I truly care for is right before my eyes. And I’ll be damned if I lose that once again.” When Loki looked again, Darcy’s eyes were startlingly wide and brimming with tears. He immediately felt the familiar swirl of guilt settle within his heart. “I don’t say this to upset you,” he added softly.

“I know. You can be unfailingly kind, Loki. Please don’t ever forget that.” Darcy leaned up, placing a soft, sweet kiss against his lips. It was barely more than a whisper of touch. “I love you.”

The admission was so quiet that Loki almost didn’t hear it. Or rather, couldn’t believe just what he was hearing. He’d always figure that he’d end up being the one to say the words first. Eventually. And he hadn’t expected Darcy to return them anytime soon, the woman always so cautious and careful when it came to him and both their hearts.

“You are the trickster” he sighed in resignation, rolling off her.

“Is that bad?” Darcy raised an eyebrow, a quizzical expression upon her face.

“No.” Loki gazed up towards the canopy of the bed before turning onto his side to face her. “Quite the opposite,” he assured her.

“You’re being strangely cryptic,” Darcy accused.

“I have never admitted love before. I find myself unsure how to do so.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and leaned closer until their lips were parted by only the barest of distance. If he so much as twitched, they’d touch. “In my experience, one simply says the words and usually that is enough. Unless you wish to go the route of singing your affections for me from the palace balcony for all of Asgard to hear? I fear your father may object though.”

It was enough to break the tension. Loki chuckled, causing their lips to join once more for a long and passionate moment. “I love you also. I cannot pinpoint the precise moment that I decided to care for you, for it seems to be my entire life. As far back as I can remember, you were there. Resolute and unchanging, always at my side whenever I needed you most.”

Darcy smiled, raising a hand to cup his cheek. Loki felt himself smile also as her thumb traced gentle circles upon his skin. “Such a dumb, sweet boy at times.”

It was with a lighter heart that Loki bade his Valkyrie goodbye, watching the twosome fly into the star filled sky with midnight fast approaching. Only when the blaze of rainbow light burst like a supernova in the distance did he finally turn away to meet with his father. His good mood only continued when the All-Father confirmed that the discussion was nothing to do with his dalliance with a Valkyrie, but his studies.

He’d write to Thor that night, Loki decided. While his fair mood lasted. Were they not brothers after all?

The representatives of the Valkyrie Order rode black steeds, their obsidian wings far larger and more powerful than Lyra’s. Loki watched them approach from afar, attention drawn by the familiar flash of rainbow on the horizon. But it wasn’t Darcy, that much he could tell from the way the winged beasts blended into the shadows rather than repelled them with pure white. Something niggled at him, drawing him down from his perch upon the balcony to the great hall where the golden clad women with matching hair were bowing before the All-Father.

“We humbly beg the location of one of our former Sisters,” the tallest asked, powerful voice reverberating throughout the hall. Loki couldn’t help but notice the blades at her hips, identical twins of Darcy’s own. “She is known to us as Darcae the Valiant, but in Asgard and beyond she goes by the simple name of Darcy.”

Loki frowned and took a step forward, alerting them all to his presence. “Pardon, but you said ‘former Sister?’” Perhaps he’d misheard. Perhaps it was not the Darcy his heart belonged to.

“No,” the tall Valkyrie stated, eyes appraising him with something akin to distaste. “She is not. We seek her on charges of treason of the gravest kind.”

Loki couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. It was ludicrous! His Darcy and treason? “Treason? Of what kind, exactly?”

“That is not for us to discuss with you, Prince Loki. We merely seek her current location, and then shall leave Asgard be.”

“She left near a month ago,” Odin announced, eye flicking between his increasingly distressed son and the Valkyrie women. “We are not privy to her destination.”

“Wait!” Loki growled, stalking forwards with his heart thundering away in his chest. A terrible fear was beginning to creep up his body. “When did she commit this supposed treason?”

The smaller Valkyrie turned her hostile gaze upon him, lips curling back in disgust. “Almost seven months to today. You should know, seeing as it was because of you that our Sister is lost to us, Prince Loki.”

Him-?

But-?

“It would set my sons heart at ease to know the crime committed,” Odin asked calmly while Frigga frowned worriedly beside him. “And my own also. Please, as a courtesy.”

Nothing could prepare Loki for her reply.

“You died,” the leader stated, so simply that they could have been discussing the weather. “But instead of retrieving your soul, Darcae opted to place it back within your husk of a body, reviving you. Your destiny was to die that fateful day, Prince Loki, and Darcae chose to ignore your fate. Such a crime against nature demands execution.”

This wasn’t real.

This wasn’t possible.

It couldn’t be.

Loki’s hand met the stone floor as the world seemed to collapse around him, forcing him to his knees. He felt sick, his stomach roiling. He was only half aware as his mother dashed down from her seat to his side, placing a comforting hand upon his back. He couldn’t bring himself to shrug it away, too numb to move.

Darcy was gone. And she wasn’t coming back this time.

Chapter Text

Loki spiralled.

At first he refused to believe that it was his Darcy that the Valkyrie hunted so fervently, but how could he ignore what she had done for him? Her tears and fury upon his awakening, eyes so terrified for him… it was his Darcy they meant, and now no one could find the rogue Valkyrie. But if she was on the run and her last visit to him truly was her goodbye, he doubted that she’d ever return. A clean break on both their parts.

Two years later when Thor returned much changed, Loki shoved the man’s deepest condolences away rather than accepting them. It was his fault. His fault! Only forced and unwelcomed logic stayed his hand from bringing a dagger to the golden prince’s throat as he slept: Darcy chose to bring him back. She didn’t have to, but she did. If she hadn’t, he’d be truly dead and gone. Loki knew he’d always owe the bright and brilliant warrior, wherever she was now.

Some days he debated taking up the search for Darcy himself. But where to start when she had the entirety of the cosmos at her fingertips? What hope did he have of finding a woman that had thousands of years experience in the art of stealth and subterfuge? She was no fool. So he stayed, though very reluctantly.

It was when the jests of him resembling that of a mourning widow began that he started to perfect the illusions of himself to hide behind, concealing his true emotions and blank expressions. The project was as tiring as it was rigorous. Though Loki didn’t bother around Frigga no longer – she’d simply dispel the trick with a wave of her hand, making no comment about it. Odin didn’t comment when the illusions were upon him either, though Loki suspected that was probably because the illusions were better to behold rather than the sullen-faced alternative.

Though it was hard, Loki began to move on. He tentatively began to forgive Thor, at last believing his brother’s insistent apologies that echoed his almost endless letters from over three years. The hurt lessened somewhat as he allowed Thor to lead him and his friends to places of danger and wildness in search of adventure, finally understanding just what the older man sought after: the sweet nothing of losing yourself in the moment, nothing else mattering outside of that specific battle. It worked for him, for a time. Relief against the constant onslaught of pain and memories, the horrible feeling of abandonment. But Thor was the utter opposite of Darcy and her Valkyrie honour, though the man claimed and boasted otherwise; Thor acted as he saw fit as usual, steadily sliding back into the man who had killed him so readily.

 The catalyst for Loki was when their father proclaimed before all of Asgard that Thor was at last ready to take to the golden throne and rule the Nine Realms in his stead. It was laughable, completely ludicrous! Thor would never truly change, and whether it was from spite or some twisted form of honour that Darcy had instilled in him, he couldn’t leave Asgard to his brother’s mercy.

“Ow! Shit-!” Darcy swore as the truck jolted going over a pothole, causing the scalding coffee to splash down her t-shirt and burn her. Grumbling to herself, she grasped the useless travel mug tighter, holding it away from her exposed skin. “Could have warned me it was this bumpy, Jane!” she yelled over the rattling din.

“Sorry! We’re almost there!”

When they unloaded and began to relax, Darcy finally set down the demon-cursed travel mug and shifted from her seat, following her friend in gazing skywards. The stars still called to her even now, singing their sweet siren song for her to return to them, begging her wild Valkyrie heart to return home. But this was the only home she had now. And ironically, it had been her very first.

“How long?” she asked Jane, the strangely endearing astrophysicist she’d befriended. Maybe it was because of her voracious appetite for knowledge that Darcy liked so much about the woman. Jane felt safe. She felt like… someone else she’d once known and cared for. A long way from Midgard now.

Darcy slammed down those thoughts before they could take a foothold.

“Not long,” Jane panted as she wrenched the binoculars from the cabin, standing up upon the ratty seats. “If they follow the same pattern as always, it should be in just a few minutes.”

They would. Darcy had long since identified the shimmering auroras as magical energies expunged from the Bifrost at the end of each cosmic day. Utterly harmless but beautiful to look at, especially near the magnetic poles of the Earth where they collected most abundantly, turning night to day in a glorious show of rainbow hues that made her smile rather than ache. It was in Norway that she’d met the eccentric lady following a pattern of anomalies in the aurora borealis across the globe. The next thing Darcy knew, she’d been invited along on a wild goose chase. Maybe she shouldn’t have told Jane quite so much scientific garble about the Bifrost energies, but it had been way too much fun watching the woman’s eyes eyes grow steadily wider as all her theories died and gave birth to brand-new ones.  

So now she was Professor Darcy Lewis. Quite frankly, she had no idea where the hell Jane had dug that one up from. But she rolled with it, letting the persona run wild.

Darcy yawned as she slid into the driver’s seat once again, gingerly picking up the travel mug and draining the contents before it had the chance to burn her again.

“Wait,” Jane frowned from above her. “What is that? Erik, Darcy, are you seeing this as well?”

With a sigh, Darcy peered up through the window screen, freezing instantly as the sky rumbled, proceeding to erupt into a blaze of rainbow light.

No.

No!

Had they found her at long last-?

The travel mug slipped from Darcy’s grasp, clattering to the floor. Above her, Jane was yelling for her to drive, but every instinct Darcy had was screaming for her to turn the camper around and just flee as fast as she possibly could. All she needed was her blades and she could be gone in minutes.

But then Jane took matters into her own hands, sliding down and slamming her foot to the accelerator, shooting them forwards into the storm of iridescent light while Darcy screamed at the woman to stop, foot aiming for the brakes. “Jane, no! We need to get out of here-!”

Bang!

The car did indeed stop, as did the explosion of the Bifrost. Darcy laughed weakly, peering down towards the front of the camper where a shadow could be seen upon the floor. “Are they dead?” she hoped aloud. “Should I try running them over a few times to be sure?”

“Darcy, what is wrong with you?! Erik bring the First Aid kit! Oh God, we hit someone-!”

“You hit someone. I was all for running” Darcy muttered, sliding down from her seat, feet hitting the firm ground beneath her. Ignoring Jane’s bleating of fear, then exclamations of shock at the event they’d witnessed, Darcy strode over to the intruder. What colours they wore would determine their fate.

Though the Midgardians always believed the illusions of a little sword charm at each her hips without question, they were very real once within her grasp. Darcy’s hands hovered close, just in case. No fugitive of the Valkyrie Order was ever truly safe. And especially not one like her.

It was a man, that much was obvious simply from his sheer size and build. Darcy moved in first, sweeping Jane aside as she went. If this was to get bloody, she’d rather the earthling remain as far back as possible for her own safety. She tensed up as the man groaned, raising a hand towards his pale head. Darcy stilled as recognition shot through her.

Oh no… her luck couldn’t be that bad, could it?

Erik turned up the headlights and threw the man’s face into sharp relief and Darcy didn’t bother to conceal the groan.

Pained blue eyes met her own and quickly widened in shock as they stared at each other. “Darcy-?” he croaked, struggling to pull himself up into a sitting position. “Is that you? You’re alive-?”

“Surprise,” Darcy snarled as she proceeded to punch the God of Thunder in the face, knocking him out in a single blow.

Yes. Her luck was that bad.

“So let me get this straight – he is called Thor and you date his brother?”

“Used to. As in not any more. But yes, that is him,” Darcy nodded as she single-handedly shoved Thor into the back of the camper, making sure his big blond head hit as much as possible. “He’s a little crazy, thinks himself the God of Thunder. Y’know? Hammer swinging Neanderthal of Norse Mythology? He’s definitely compensating for something in the downstairs department. His brother always said that… never mind what his brother said.” She slammed the doors shut behind her, climbing into the passenger side as Jane got in next to her, still shocked from what had occurred.

Darcy took a deep, calming breath. “We’ll dump him at the hospital and then leave. He’s a drunkard, won’t remember any of this tomorrow.”

Erik laughed wildly from the back. “Am I the only one freaking out at how she knocked him flat with one hit?”

“Black belt,” Darcy waved off dismissively. “I was a teenage rebel.” Well half of that was true at least. Though she probably was beyond what the Earthlings called a black belt by now.

“I… okay?” Erik frowned, still clearly troubled as he sank back into his seat.

Jane was not so accepting of her plan. “We can’t just abandon him! We’d be locked up for not reporting this. A hit-and-run is a felony, Darcy!”

“Huh. So it is. Bummer. How about you both deal with the oaf I really don’t want to see and I gather the material and readings together from the event site? I’ll even take photographs with that camera of mine that you really want.”

“Oh, I…” Darcy watched with complete calmness as Jane wrestled with the offer, eyes flickering to and from their princely passenger. “Okay, deal. But-!”

“I know the order of filing, Jane. I developed it, remember? And wasn’t it little ol’ me who led you to all these wondrous locations over three years?” She’d cave. Darcy knew just how to play her cards when she needed to when it came to Jane. Though it didn’t really need much; throw the woman a nugget of impossible science and she’d most likely sign over her firstborn.

“Fine! You got me. We’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t rush!” Darcy yelled when the camper sped away, leaving her alone in the silent desert with only her pack and camera slung around her neck. She’d miss Jane when she fled. The woman had been a bright spark on a planet full of dullards. But Darcy did gather up the materials as promised before heading back towards the town in a flat-out run, reaching it in ten minutes rather than almost an hour by vehicle.

Darcy packed what little she had as quickly as possible, throwing everything into the leather backpack. She didn’t keep too much upon her person, fearful of having to flee at a moment’s notice and leaving it all behind. She was ready to go within seconds, dashing towards the door.

Why. Why did it have to be Thor? Of all the people in the cosmos, it had to be him! She couldn’t even focus long enough to build a weak illusion capable of tricking the man into believing that it wasn’t her. It was a mess. Everything was a complete mess and she hated losing the control she had.

Darcy paused before the door, groaning as she pressed her forehead hard against it. “Breathe,” she told herself, clenching her eyes tight shut. What was he doing here? And in such a state of undress and thrown so unceremoniously from the Bifrost? Something was amiss, and logic assured Darcy that it was nothing to do with her. This was merely an unhappy coincidence.

A very unhappy coincidence.

And so Darcy made the ridiculous decision to discover what had led the fallen prince to Midgard and hold off on fleeing just yet.

Her chance came soon enough. The following morning, incidentally. Darcy scoffed upon watching the Prince of Asgard clamber out of the camper with little to no grace, her arms folded tight across her chest. She had no trouble in knowing just who was responsible for taking in the lost Golden Retriever; Jane never could resist shiny new science problems. Or manly, burly ones now as it seemed.

“He was adamant,” Jane apologized upon spying Darcy’s deep scowl. “He all but destroyed the ward in an effort to get out and find you.”

“Of course he destroyed the place. He never could simply walk through a door when there was a wall to smash his way through instead. Much too easy.” She narrowed her eyes at the man as Erik accosted him, asking him something. “What did he offer you for bringing him here? Information on the event?”

“Oh I… uh…”

Great. “It’s okay,” Darcy sighed rather huffily. “He would have found his way here anyway; he’s tenacious like that. I’ll speak with him, but when you hear fighting – and you will – don’t intervene. That blond bastard has everything coming to him, trust me on that.”

“Darcy… don’t murder him, please.”

“I make no promises.” Darcy cracked her knuckles loudly and smirked as Thor actually flinched at the sound.

Darcy was sat beneath the canopy of the battered camper when Thor finally ventured over. Upon reaching her and making a beeline for the rainbow deckchair at her side, Darcy’s foot caught it and kicked it further away. When he sat, there was at least a two chairs gap between them. “You look ridiculous” she deadpanned upon spying his borrowed attire, the shirt much too tight for his musculature form.

“Aye, the garment does feel strange, but my other clothing was torn during travel. And the Lady Jane was kind enough to provide them for me.”

“Yes, that sounds like her.” Darcy indicated to the chair. “Sit.”

He did so, the chair creaking ominously under his sheer weight. Darcy half hoped the fabric gave way beneath him. “My Lady Valkyrie, I c-”

“Darcy,” she interrupted. “I am a Valkyrie no longer, or did you miss the news?”

“Yes, I… heard. And I was aggrieved to hear it.”

Darcy shook her head, waving off his words. “Why are you here right now? Is he here-?”

Thor leaned forwards, placing his hands upon his knees as he jerked his head. “My brother is in Asgard. As for why I am on Midgard, it’s a rather long and foolish story.”

“I’ve eternity at my fingers, Thor. Tell me.” Darcy crossed her ankles and leaned back, steely eyes fixed firmly upon him. Thor felt himself almost squirm beneath her predator’s gaze. Even in her own exile she was a storm on the winds.

“I have been exiled by my father-”

“Again.”

“-and I have never more deserved such punishment.” He told her everything, feeling shame swirl low in his gut as Darcy’s expression changed from simple distaste to outright disgust. Thor expected her to strike him down verbally, and he was not disappointed in the least.

Darcy growled, twisting sharply in the deck chair and causing the metal frame to whine uncomfortably. “Are you incapable of peace, Odinson? Or must you forever court war, not caring for those around you? Your own people who you should be protecting?!”

“I was a fool. Brash and hotheaded, caught up in the moment.”

“Sounds like an excuse to try and invade Jotunheim to me. You have always been like this. What has changed since you slaughtered your brother, Prince Thor? Because at this moment, it seems like nothing at all.”

“No!” he next to bellowed, wrenching himself to his feet with the chair tumbling away. “Never. It has never been my intention to harm my brother. I love Loki, never for one moment believe that I do not.”

Darcy merely stared, utterly unfazed by the man’s shouting. She raised a singular eyebrow as challenge. “You claim to love him, yet harmed him his entire life with your words like knives and petty bullying. No, you do not care for him. If you did, you would have reined in your temper instead of moving to strike him so readily.”

“My brother and I have always-”

“Silence!” Darcy rose to her feet, a snarl upon her lips as she squared up to the man who towered over her. But she felt no fear, only great and righteous fury. “You killed him! And in doing so, destroyed both our lives! It was nothing short of a miracle that I was able to push his soul back into his body, Prince Thor. It should not have been possible. I performed a feat that only the Valkyrie of legend have been able to! And why? Because I am fortunate enough to be the last true-blooded descendant of Sigrun herself!”

Darcy realized her grave mistake the second she uttered the words.

Thor’s gaze swiftly changed from that of frustration to something akin to wonder. “A descendant of Sigrun?” he croaked, eyes widening as the revelation hit him with full force. “Then you are the Commander of the Valkyrie Order! Queen of the Eternal Warriors! Commander Darcae, I was never-!”

“I am not,” Darcy retorted in a clipped tone, interrupting his surprised spluttering. “And you’ll do well to keep that observation to yourself if you wish to keep your tongue in your head.”

“Was Loki aware of your royal blood?”

Darcy kicked him sharply in the shin, forcing Thor down onto one knee with a sharp cry of pain. She raised an eyebrow at that, noting his odd and uncharacteristic fragility. Human, then? Stripped of his powers entirely? Interesting. But that didn’t stop her from winding a hand into the man’s golden hair and wrenching his head back, forcing his gaze to meet her own as she leaned in. “Leave. It. Be.” Darcy shoved him away from her, letting him fall back onto the rough ground.

No, Loki hadn’t known. What good would have telling him been?

With a battle weary sigh, Darcy sank back into the chair. She turned her gaze skywards, feeling the distant call of the cosmos even then. “How is he?” She couldn’t make her lips form his name.

Thor remained seated upon the dusty ground, hair mussed and borrowed jeans now scuffed. “I… he is better now than when you left nigh a hundred years ago. Though with his illusions, I could be vastly wrong in what I have observed. He is troubled deeply by your absence, though he claims to be no longer, and his tricks have grown… malicious in times of late and I find myself worrying for him in ways I never have before.”

“Malicious in what way?” Darcy demanded.

“Upon our last outing before Jotunheim, we ventured deep into the Glowing Forest of Vanaheim in search of the Colossus Beast-”

“Yes, a lovely Wednesday afternoon stroll for Asgardians. Get on with it.”

“-A huge creature with the striped body of a magnificent jungle cat and head of a dragon! But instead of fire, it shot ice from its maw! Great streaming jets of freezing-”

“Thor,” Darcy deadpanned.

“-and then as Sif dove her blades into the creature’s left flank, distracting it from my approach, I brought Mjolnir down upon its mighty, ice encrusted head and rent it asunder in-”

“Thor!” Darcy hissed loudly. “I don’t care about how you crawled up its arsehole and ripped it a new one! Tell me what your brother did on this outing that was so terrible!”

“Oh, aye. We made camp that evening within the forest and feasted upon the Beast’s exquisite flesh. But after only one bite, Fandral began to choke and his breathing all but ceased. Loki just laughed, stating that he’d wondered what the mushrooms he’d found in the Beast’s lair would do if consumed.”

A chill crept up Darcy’s spine. “I’ve no love for your companions, but does he still live?”

“Aye, he does. It was a mere paralytic agent, worn off within the hour.”

“And did… Loki… know that?”

Thor’s dark look was confirmation enough without his reply. “That is the question, Lady Darcy. My brother is capable of many things, but I have never counted murder within them.”

Darcy was deeply troubled by Thor’s words, hands finding her knees and squeezing them tightly. What was he thinking-? Had Loki taken leave of his senses? It didn’t make any sense at all. He indeed was many things, but a murderer he was not. There was an explanation, she told herself adamantly. Had to be. The alternative was too terrible to even consider and utterly unlike the man she cared for so very deeply still.

She swiftly changed the subject, refusing to dwell on such a distressing topic for a moment longer. “What are your plans now? You really don’t have the finesse to be a waiter in this town.”

“Acquire Mjolnir, of course! When my powers are restored I shall return to Asgard and strive to undo the damage I have caused between the two Realms. And when I have succeeded in that, I shall speak with my brother and mend the broken bond between us before it is too late.”

Darcy chuckled, failing to stop her eyes rolling. “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”

Chapter Text

Darcy chose not to flee when it became evident that Thor meant her no ill will or desired for her capture. And no one else from Asgard was coming down, so that was a bonus also. She soon realized that she’d never truly spoken to the Asgardian Prince past threatening him with Hel and eternal damnation, and he was strangely growing on her. Like moss on a rock. And Thor could hold his drink as easily as she could which led to a strange but amicable companionship striking up, though Darcy doubted that she’d ever desire to call him a proper friend. For now the position of drinking buddy would do.

“So…” Thor let the word hang in the air for a long moment. “Have you been on Midgard long?”

“Hmm…” Darcy paused for a moment as she raised the tankard towards her lips, thinking. “About eighty years now. When I left Asgard I floated around the Realms aimlessly for a time, flitting from place to place; freedom is a strange concept that I am still adapting to. Then I spent some time on this lawless planet, joined a band of mercenaries when I went back to the same planet some years later. I soon got bored of that and grew disgusted at the honour it lacked – and this ridiculous man-child calling himself Star-Lord or something. He was always attempting to guess the colour of the underwear I wore, so I stole his ship and made my way down to Midgard.” Darcy shrugged a shoulder. “Midgard is growing on me, I must admit. Like a weed.”

“It sounds like you have been on many adventures,” Thor chuckled almost wistfully.

“Yes,” Darcy grudgingly agreed, sipping at the beer once more. “Many. I find myself yearning for quiet these days.”

“You have not taken another lover?”

“I’m not interested in you in the slightest. I would rather court your father.”

Thor bellowed out a laugh, slamming his tankard down and causing the golden liquid within to slop over onto the bar. “I am not prying for my own benefit, I assure you! You are terrifying to behold. If anything I admire you as a shield sister. Loki is far braver than I in this respect.”

“Good. And no, I have not and am not interested in taking a lover.” Darcy was fairly sure that she would remain hung up over his brother for the rest of her exceedingly long life after all.

“Ah, I apologize for intruding. And… may I be so bold to ask of the Valkyrie Order? As a young man I was exceedingly jealous of my brother and the fact his greatest companion was a woman of your calibre. After all, you are ravishingly beautiful and-”

“No,” Darcy interrupted suddenly, wondering if she should try kicking him again. Maybe between the legs this time. “I am not telling you how we forge our swords. It is a closely guarded secret.”

Thor whined like a puppy being denied a treat, draining his third tankard in one more gulp. “But you are no longer a Valkyrie! Surely one little-” he stopped dead upon feeling the press of a weapon between his legs.

Darcy leaned in, pushing the blade harder against the Prince’s favourite anatomy; he let out a low whimper, almost making her lose her composure and let out a laugh. “What did I just say, you dotard? No.” The pressure lifted and he breathed out a loud sigh of relief. “In any case, you wield a hammer. Swords are for those with finesse, not sheer brutality.”

“I can use a sword” Thor insisted, grin spreading across his face. “And if you consented to tell me how to create a blade of legend-”

“Thor, you are in immediate danger of losing your cock to one of these swords if you keep begging.”

“Darcy? Darcy! Oh my God!”

Darcy just groaned, setting the tankard down with a thud. “What now?” she muttered to herself, swivelling in the seat to face Jane as she came bustling through the half empty bar, her eyes wide and panicked.

“They’ve taken everything!” the woman expelled in a great rush, sounding half crazy. “My readings and all of the electricals! Even the whiteboard with my formulas on! The whiteboard, Darcy!”

Well this was something different. “Who’s taken them?!” Darcy exclaimed in anger, rising to her feet.

“This group calling themselves SHIELD. Erik says they’re part of the government or something!”

Fuck. So someone had paid attention to Thor’s loud and obvious arrival after all. Darcy had hoped otherwise, but this was Midgard after all; nothing happened without the humans knowing of it some way or another. They seemed to record and film almost everything. Though she did enjoy the endless cat videos upon the wondrous internet.

“Wait!” Darcy suddenly realized. “Not my iPod as well?”

“They took everything.”

Okay, now it was personal. That iPod was the first Midgardian contraption she’d ever purchased and its sentimental value far outweighed its monetary value. She opened her mouth to swear revenge, but Thor beat her to it as he jumped to his feet, proclaiming in a loud voice that he would seek retribution against SHIELD for the theft. “Fear not, Lady Jane! I shall retrieve your stolen research along with the Lady Darcy’s beloved item! You have my word that I shall succeed or die trying!” He then proceeded to slam the tankard down so hard upon the table that it shattered, shards of glass showering them like deadly snowflakes.

Darcy whined, bringing her forehead against the table a few times. This wasn’t going to end well.

Of course Thor got captured. Darcy would have considered it nothing short of another miracle if he managed to achieve in his mission in rescuing their stolen research back from the Midgardian government without being apprehended. Wasn’t it his newfound job to make sure that she could never relax and think herself in the clear?

“So uh… where did you say that you learned how to jack into government security systems?” Jane asked once more, wringing her hands with a worried expression, constantly glancing over her shoulder. It was only through Jane’s incessant bleating of worry for the big idiot that Darcy finally retrieved her hidden backup mobile phone in the first place.  Darcy had been all for leaving the man to stew in an Earth prison for a time.

“I didn’t. And you don’t want to know. There-” she pressed a button, saving the changes upon the official looking website page. Now Thor was a Midgardian in name and description, which was laughable.  “Should just about hold up, but I don’t know how thorough their checks are. Go and tell Erik, yeah? I’ve put down that Thor is a psychiatric patient who is prone to fits of madness without his meds. Get him to spin all the ‘I am the Mighty Thor and I shall crush you into dust’ stuff and they’ll believe it straight away.”

“Uh-?”

“Thank you!” Darcy chirped. But the second Jane was gone in search of Erik, she dove back into the system, seeking out the live CCTV units. It was just to make sure that Thor wasn’t being tortured, she told herself. No one deserved to be tortured, not even the brash fool of a prince. But when Darcy did find the feed of the Prince, he was not alone.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t been expecting to see Loki that it affected Darcy so much. Her hand slipped upon the phone, almost dropping it in her numbness. She stared, the same numbness beginning to take hold of her entire body. There was no audio feed, but that didn’t matter as the loud and insistent buzzing filled her ears like a swarm of angry bees.

Loki wasn’t eating properly; Darcy could see it clearly in the sharpness of his cheekbones, the pallor of his fair skin. He wasn’t sleeping either, for there was a haughtiness in his eyes that she’d never seen before and she didn’t like it. He didn’t seem well at all. Not the bright man she’d left behind.

Was this her doing-?

But what was he doing here? Loki detested Midgard, and made no effort to conceal that fact after their last visit to the planet. He spoke calmly with Thor, never raising his voice once from what Darcy could see. And then he was gone, vanishing in the blink of an eye and leaving his brother alone and despondent upon his chair.

Darcy slumped down onto the floor and sat there for a long time, staring at the spot Loki where had stood.

If this gnawing ache in her chest was love, she didn’t want it no longer. Let someone else have it.

Thor returned within the hour, but didn’t seek out Darcy until night had fallen and Jane and Erik were finally asleep. She sat beneath the vast starry sky once more, eyes closed and listening intently to the song of the cosmos as it whirled above her, an unending and ancient symphony that was constantly changing. She pitied both the humans and Asgardians alike who could not hear the melody of the stars. Even Loki could not, no matter how hard she’d tried to make it so that he could. He would have loved it.

Thor sat down next to her in the dirt, a sigh upon his lips as he glanced upwards as well. “Thank you for helping me escape” he said sincerely.

“I did it for Jane, not you.”

“Still, I owe you once more. Though I do believe that this shall be enough for this incident-”

Darcy smiled as he pressed the electric blue iPod into her hand. It was battered from age but still worked better than perfect. She closed her fingers around it and nodded. “Yes, that’ll do.”

They sat in silence for a minute more before Thor grunted and lay back against the ground, gazing up with his eyes wide and staring. “My father is dead, Lady Darcy.”

“Oh. You have my sympathies.” And she meant it. So that was why Loki had been here… to convey the news in person.

“It was my fault. Again,” he forced out. “Had I not acted the brash fool-”

“Will you be returning to Asgard?”

“I…” Silence. “Nay. There is a truce with Jotunheim in place, conditional upon my exile. If I return, I would only bring war to the Nine Realms. If I must remain upon Midgard to keep the peace, then here I shall stay.”

It startled Darcy to observe what swift changes Midgard had brought upon the hotheaded prince. But then, hadn’t the quaint realm affected her also? This place felt like… home, as strange as that was. Maybe she had been migrating all her entire life like a bird, and this was where she was meant to land.    

“Loki is king.” It wasn’t a question, just a quiet observation.

“He is” Thor admitted. “You must be proud of him. He always was the better of us both, the one better suited to sit upon a throne.”

But Darcy shook her head, worry seeping into her heart. “I warned him to never chase that position. It twists people and not to mention that Asgard itself is built upon layers of dark secrets that no one there remembers any longer. They see the gold, never the black that it is painted upon. Not until it is too late.”

“What dark secrets do you speak of?” Thor frowned deeply, sitting up to stare intently at her. “Darcy?”

Darcy shrugged a shoulder. “It does not matter. What does is what you intend to do now that you are here for the foreseeable future.”

“I am… not sure. It has been many years since I was last upon Midgard, and I recognise nothing.”

“Yes,” Darcy snorted, suddenly amused as a memory surfaced. “I as well as the rest of Midgardian history have read your unintelligible cave scratchings claiming that your brother has given birth to an eight-legged horse.”

“Ha! You were not present when he began to learn how to change his form as a boy?”

“No, but I am sensing a story here.”

“Yes, well, Loki succeeded in changing his form as instructed, but in such a complicated way that he could not morph back! Even Mother and the Grand Sorcerer of Vanaheim could not magick him back from his form of a dirty great horse. But what made the situation even more amusing was that he was no stallion, but a mare!”

Darcy was almost offended that Loki had never shared such a hilarious tale of magical failure with her. “Please tell me that you embellished the ending of your story and there is no eight-legged monstrosity somewhere.”

“Aye, that I did. Rest assured that Loki has no children that I am aware of, monstrous or not. Unless you both-?”

What? “No!” Darcy exclaimed louder than she’d meant to. “I have never lain with you brother!”

It was ridiculous how dumbfounded Thor seemed to be by that admission. It took the better part of an hour to truly make him realize that she was serious and that she and Loki had never had sex. “I have never been more disappointed in my brother.” Thor shook his head, utterly disbelieved. “To have the love of a Valkyrie and to never-!”

“It’s three am you two, shut up!” came Erik’s yell from the camper, followed by the sound of something being thrown against the window in frustration.

Darcy snorted, turning her gaze back to the night sky. “It’s a shame that you’ve always been such a idiot. I feel that we could have been great friends if you hadn’t killed my dear Loki.”

“Perhaps one day we-” but he stopped, making Darcy glance at him; Thor’s gaze was fixed upon the horizon, so she followed it also into the distance, feeling her blood turn cold as she spied the familiar burst of rainbow upon the ground.

She pulled herself to her feet, hands ghosting towards the blades forming at her hips. “Did Loki mention anyone else coming down to Midgard?”

“Nay, he did not.” Thor rose also, staring into the distance. “Come- we shall not wake Jane. Let us go and investigate.”

“You are human, Thor. And though I may find you disgusting, I do not wish you dead. If this is the Valkyrie seeking me, this fight is mine alone.”

“Maybe, but Loki would kill me himself if I did not accompany you. He may not show it, but he worries for you, Lady Darcy.”

She didn’t want to think about that. It hurt too much.

Darcy felt bad about stealing the truck, but was it really stealing if she intended to return it as soon as she could? She tried to head off before Thor could climb in, but the man was too quick for her to slam a foot onto the accelerator. So it was with him sat beside her that she sped towards the Bifrost site, the streets dark and silent, utterly deserted but for the odd light in a residential window.

“Do not get in the way,” Darcy snarled once more, shifting gears with a loud grating sound. “The Valkyrie will not hesitate to brand you a villain and move to strike you down. And since you’re human, you will not survive a single blow.”

“And if it is not the Valkyrie?”

“Then I shall maim rather than kill, if possible. I’d rather not take a life unless I absolutely must.”

“You are a very admirable woman, Darcy. It is truly an honour to fight at your side.”

Darcy snorted, turning onto the desert road with a clatter. “Try not to die. Jane’s rather fond of you and there’s nothing worse than watching her cry. Nothing.”

But it wasn’t the Valkyrie. It wasn’t anyone who wished her dead. In fact it was Thor who recognized the shadowy quartet walking towards the town first, a deep frown knitting his brows together. “Is that-?” then his expression brightened and he proceeded to throw himself from the truck before they’d even stopped moving, exclaiming loudly as he bounded towards them. “My friends!”

Darcy didn’t bother to get out of the truck as it came to a stop, watching the reunion taking place in the headlights before her. There was no desire in her to go and talk to the Idiots Three as Loki had always called them. Though she wasn’t sure who the dark haired woman embracing Thor jovially was. Loki hadn’t mentioned a new addition to the group before, so Darcy supposed that she was recent. Fandral caught sight of the Valkyrie in the truck and froze instantly, eyes widening as he urgently asked Thor something, his gaze never leaving her face once; Darcy waved a hand, smiling sarcastically at his dumbstruck expression. Thor barked a laugh and shook his head, which seemed to alleviate whatever issues Fandral had with her. They seemed almost afraid to be near her. Good, let them stay well away.

Eventually the expressions of Thor’s, ranging from fury to confusion to something else, became too much and Darcy let curiosity overtake her disgust as she slipped from the cab and strode over. “Who are you?” she asked the woman bluntly. Up close, Darcy could see her warriors garb and swords. How odd.

“I am Sif of Asgard. You must be Darcy, the Valkyrie?”

“Indeed I am. Why are you here on Midgard?” She aimed her question at them all, hands folded tight across her chest. “Because Thor has been banished, and to bring him back is to start war.”

“No.” Why did Thor sound so bitter? Darcy raised an eyebrow, indicating for him to elaborate. “My brother lied to me. My father still lives. And this farce of a truce? Loki lied. There is no truce. He has made some… harebrained scheme for the throne!”

Darcy felt herself physically wince at the words, scarce able to believe them. Loki… what was he doing? What had twisted his bright, brilliant mind and turned him into some power-hungry creature-? It wasn’t him and she simply refused to believe what she was hearing.

It wasn’t possible. Not her Loki.

That aching sadness turned into anger, then a hot rage that filled her entire being. What was he doing? Did he want to cause a political crisis and maybe a trigger civil war within the Realms? Because it sure sounded like it! Loki wasn’t brash, stupid in the ways Thor often was. Unless… something had triggered him. Something other than her leaving.

There was only one way to be sure he was safe and did nothing overly stupid.

“You’re all going back to Asgard” Darcy announced, the blades forming at her hips and her glinting in the moonlight. “And I am coming with you.”

Chapter Text

Though Thor called to the sky until near dawn, the Bifrost remained tight shut, not a single rainbow hue staining the sky.

“Great!” Fandral threw up his arms in growing frustration. “We’re marooned on this godforsaken planet, and your brother is planning a coup!”

“Heimdall!” Thor’s voice finally cracked, causing him to cough.

Darcy had long since dragged out a deck chair from the truck and seated herself upon it, fully intending to watch the sunrise over the New Mexican landscape of sand and dust while the men screamed themselves hoarse at the sky. She smiled at Sif, offering her the other chair and inviting her to sit next to her. To her surprise, the warrior took it up.

“A real Valkyrie. It’s an honour, truly” was Sif’s greeting upon sitting down.

Darcy shrugged and waved a hand nonchalantly. “If I had a dollar for every time someone has said that to me, I’d be the richest person in this Realm.”

The longer Sif spoke with the cordial Valkyrie, the more she understood just why Loki had reacted to the endless teasing so very violently. Once you were past the fact that she was an eon’s old warrior, her personality shone and Sif felt herself being drawn to it. “Loki truly cares for you, doesn’t he?” she mused as the sun finally started to rise, setting the sand ablaze around them. “I thought it an elaborate trick on his part.”

“No trick, I assure you. Speaking of tricks, Thor told me that he’d performed a rather nasty one upon yourself?”

Sif raised a hand, brushing her fingers against her dark hair. “I was once a maiden of Asgard in looks.”

Darcy stared for a moment, then giggled. “Would you like for me to change it back into a more favourable colour, Lady Sif?”

“No thank you, Lady Darcy; I’ve found that being different is not always such a bad prospect.”

Oh Darcy liked her. A female warrior that was not a Valkyrie was such a rare and glorious soul after all. “As you wish then.”

Then Thor started up the shouting again, making them both groan and for Darcy to rub at her temple in annoyance. “Perhaps you should call to Loki instead?” she suggested flatly, waving a hand. “Maybe use the words ‘Please’ and ‘I am the stupid brother?’”

“I don’t recall her being this sarcastic ”Volstagg scoffed, evidently believing that she would not be able to hear at such a distance. But she did, and clearly; Darcy leaned over to the dirty floor and plucked up a small stone, tossing it just hard enough so that it bounced off the fool man’s head. She smirked at his scowl.

“An excellent shot” praised Sif, thoroughly amused.

“Why thank you.”

It was as Darcy closed her eyes against the brightness of the oncoming day that the sky rumbled overheard, forcing her eyes to snap open in an instant. Thor bellowed out a cheer, slapping Hogun hard upon the back. “Come! Let us-!”

But the Bifrost did not pick them up, but rather deposited something instead. Darcy shielded her eyes against the swirling sand as the light began to fade away, revealing a large and metallic shape.

“Oh you’ve really pissed him off!” Darcy groaned at the sight of the familiar form before her, recalling all those years ago when Loki was still a child and had sneaked her down to the weapons vault so that they could observe the endless treasures and wonders that Asgard had collected. There was a Valkyrie relic in there, or so Loki had claimed. They hadn’t gotten very far, setting off the Destroyer as Darcy took one step into the Vault and triggering the defence mechanisms.

It had been funny once they’d gotten away from the fire-breathing robot, though the tongue-lashing Odin had given his son about his foolish actions was less so.

“This is madness-!” Thor cried as he dove away from the immediate blast of fire, rolling behind a large rock for cover.

Darcy groaned, snapping her fingers and allowing her Valkyrie armour of black leather and gold accents to form around her, blades ready and primed at her hips, then within her palms. “Do not let that thing blast my truck! I’ve only had it a month! Loki-!” she stepped out into the path of the Destroyer as it advanced towards where Thor stood (though why he was holding her deckchair like a shield, Darcy failed to understand.) “Loki!” she bellowed up at the contraption, standing her ground before it. “Power this thing down now!”

But he either didn’t see her stood there or care as the Destroyer continued to stroll forwards, body heating up for another blast of concentrated fire. Darcy’s eyes widened momentarily as she spun out of its way, swinging a blade with a snarl upon her lips, the sword easily slicing off the thing’s right arm and letting it crash to the desert floor.

Darcy refused to allow the metal beast to lumber into the town, promptly destroying everything as it went. Loki wouldn’t do that, and yet…

And yet…

She threw her other shining blade to Sif, the other woman catching it with ease. “Take out its legs from under it! Stop it from advancing further!”

For such a large contraption, it moved with deadly precision. Past swiping at its remaining arm, it was almost impossible to get close enough to fell it at the knees, the wide and gaping mouth spewing flames at almost every second, forcing them to take cover often. All the while, Darcy’s rage and frustration grew until she could not take it anymore, deliberately putting herself between it and Thor with her arms spread wide. It was the only thing she could think of that would end this feverish madness. It was Thor he wanted after all, that much was evident from his murderous rampage against the man.

The Destroyer did indeed stop as Thor did and Darcy dared breathe out a low sigh of relief as she let her arms fall. Perhaps now he would truly look at the gravity of the situation and-

She never expected the blast of fire, the roar that filled the balmy desert air. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Darcy felt herself freeze up on the spot and her eyes fly wide in fear as the jet fired directly towards her.

But the pain she expected, the impending burning, it never came as she was thrown aside with an even louder roar, Thor instead taking the full brunt of the blow.

Darcy’s head swam as she collided against the hard ground, time and noise and vision distorting. There were bright lights, then even brighter ones as she rolled onto her back to face the sky. It was so bright that she closed them once more. There was pain also, but not just of the physical variety. She found her heart aching, soul weeping as the gravity of the situation washed over her.

Was it her fate to kill not just another friend lost to madness, but a lover this time-?

“Darcy? Darcy! Open your eyes, you fool woman!”

She did, wincing against the impending brightness. The blond shape before her face slowly came into focus as she blinked away the throbbing pain in her temple, squinting at the hues of red also. Thor. “Am I dead? You’re dead. That blast hit you.”

“Not quite. We both live, Lady Darcy. Now on your feet.”

Darcy groaned as she was heaved onto her feet, time and balance finally righting themselves around her as she put a hand upon Thor’s chest and pushed him away. She could feel the power radiating from him in waves, Mjolnir in his hand once more. A glance to the right told her that the Destroyer was nothing more than a hunk of twisted metal now, missing its other arm as well as a leg. Sif held out the shining blade for her to take and Darcy took it gladly, accepting the other that had flown into the air during the blast from Fandral.

Was this rage or terrible grief that coursed through her? Darcy wasn’t sure as she sheathed both her blades with a low snarl upon her lips. “Get back to yelling at the sky, Thor.” Perhaps it was both, a perfect and agonising symphony.

She supposed that she should thank Thor for stepping between the blast, to make the ultimate sacrifice for her, but Darcy couldn’t force herself to turn to the man, preferring to instead pace back and forth with her hands upon the hilt of her blades. It had worked in his favour after all, the catalyst that gave him his powers back.

I’ll be back Darcy promised, thinking of Jane as the Bifrost exploded into rainbow light once more, carrying them all to Asgard.

She was a storm of fury. Upon arrival nothing and no one could dissuade Darcy from her set path, stepping over the fallen form of the Gatekeeper rather than crouching down to check if he was alive. The betrayal ate at her worse than she’d ever imagined, forcing her onwards down the rainbow bridge with Thor hot on her trail. He called something after her, but Darcy wasn’t listening.

She couldn’t listen.

Darcy had been in the vast throne room many times before, but never with a man other than Odin sat upon the golden chair, Gungnir in his hand and a swagger to his slouch. Loki froze upon clapping eyes upon her proud form, but Darcy couldn’t make herself care.

“Your Majesty” she announced sarcastically, bowing low before him with her blades tinkling against her hips.

“Darcy?” There was sheer disbelief clear in his voice, but she ignored it, storming up to the foot of the throne.

“Brother,” Thor said in a low voice, “you go much too far this time. The throne, the lies about Father? The attempt on my own life is understandable, but to try and take Darcy’s also? Has madness taken hold of you?”

But Loki’s laugh was one of genuine amusement, leaning in towards them. “Is this a new fantasy of yours, Thor? I have made no such attempt on Darcy’s life, only your own. Even with her duplicity I would never seek to harm her like I do you.”

“Oh this is a new low, Loki.”

But Darcy’s head was working overtime, thinking, wondering. Loki hadn’t aimed for her on Midgard? But it was impossible not to see her as she stood before Thor. Unless…

Unless…

Oh.

“My spell,” Darcy realized numbly, feeling so very foolish in that moment. “A cloaking spell that prevents me from being seen off planet.” He hadn’t seen her, pure and simple. Her extra layer of protection from being discovered was to blame. All Loki had seen through the eyes of the Destroyer was Thor and his friends as they worked to take it down. The devastating hurricane of rage and grief died down into sheer relief, almost forcing Darcy to her knees.

He hadn’t tried to kill her.

Maybe he wasn’t beyond saving after all.

But that was only one problem solved, and if Thor kept up the steady stream of growled accusations, Darcy was fairly certain that his mouth was going to create many more.

“Brother-” Thor began once more, grip firm upon Mjolnir.

“I am not your brother!” Darcy’s grip tightened upon the blades as Loki rose to his feet, eyes blazing as he glared down at them both. “And I have never felt so blessed to be cursed!”

“You are not cursed” Darcy growled through gritted teeth, walking up the steps with no fear in her heart now and stopping before him. “You never have been.”

Hurt flashed across his face, so swift that Darcy almost missed it. “You knew? No, of course you knew. What am I exactly to you, Valkyrie? A novelty? Something to mock? Perhaps a pet, amusing you at how dependent I was upon the leash you held?”

Darcy took a deep, calming breath as the man positively glowered down at her, grip tight upon the staff in his hand. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was clinging to it more for support than anything. “What do you want me to say, Loki? You know that I think none of them.”

“Do I now? Forgive me for not believing you. They call me the Liesmith, but surely that title belongs to you my dear. You did, after all, lie to me my entire life.”

Darcy’s hand shot out and caught Loki’s wrist as he made to move the staff, holding it fast. “Loki, stop this.”

“You stand with Thor now? How swiftly your loyalties change.”

“Loki, I know you are hurting. I know that you feel like the world has betrayed you, and for good reason. But this? What you are doing here? This is not truly you, and you must step down before you go too far.”

Loki pushed her away, causing Darcy to stumble down a step, grip falling from Gungnir. He let out a low, bitter laugh. “You presume to know me, but still left after confessing to love me.”

“I-”

“I would have followed you to the ends of the universe and beyond!” he roared, voice echoing through the vast hall. “You made me believe that I was special, that I could be loved! But no, you’re just like the rest of them. A duplicitous creature that would use me until you’d had your fill. Manipulative whore.”

Darcy slapped him. It was hard enough to cause his head to snap to the side, a red welt immediately rising angrily upon his cheek. “I gave up everything for you” she snarled, fisting a hand into the front of his armour and wrenching him close. “Everything and more! You dare claim that I never cared for you? No one has loved anyone as much as I love you, you ridiculous child! Yes, I have always known of your true parentage. No, I did not tell you. Why? Because you were happy! Why would I desire to shred your entire being and identity with such information?!”

“You were afraid.” Loki pushed his face into her own, a hiss upon his lips. “Admit it, you mewling coward. You’ve thrown your lot in with Thor, it is plain to see. Did you find solace in his arms upon Midgard, perhaps? One ‘brother’ to another?”

“Step down,” Darcy commanded before she ended up slapping him once more, free hand catching his arm as he moved to shove her away again. “And stop this madness.”

“And if I refuse?” he challenged bluntly.

“Then I’ll stop you, my love. And it shall hurt the both of us.”

“A bold claim. But I am no longer that scrawny infant who could never match up to you. I am a King, a warrior that you yourself told me I would be! My actions are right and just.”

Darcy shook her head, breathing so hard it hurt. “Don’t make me do this. You are the most reasonable man I know.”

“Then walk away, my dear. After all, Valkyrie’s are not permitted to interfere with such affairs. Or do you forget?”

“I am no longer a Valkyrie and that promise holds no meaning for me anymore. You continue this tirade of insanity, I will stop you. Of that you have my word, King Loki. I left to protect you from the same fate as me.”

“So be it then.”

The unexpected burst of power between them took Darcy by surprise, throwing her down the steps and leaving her sprawled upon the marble floor. After a moment, the wind knocked clean from her, she forced herself back onto her feet and then at Loki as he turned his attention to Thor.

“Traitor-!” Loki roared as she wound an arm around his neck, pulling him into a tight chokehold with her legs wrapping taut around his body. Darcy’s grip squeezed upon his throat, clenching her eyes tight shut as she aimed to knock him out as swiftly as possible. Before any other damage was caused, intentional or not. His golden helm fell to the floor with a loud clatter as she dislodged it, readjusting her grip against his wild movements.

A sharp pain drove into her side. Darcy yelped, her grip loosening from shock. Loki took swift advantage of her distraction to pull himself free and to his feet. With a groan Darcy clambered upright, pulling the short and wicked blade sharply from her side with a wince of pain; it tumbled to the floor, marring it with drops of her blood.

The familiar rage returned with a vengeance and Darcy threw herself back into the battle at the other side of the room where Thor holding his own. Lightning and flashes of green assaulted her vision as she danced around the pair, seeking an opening to take advantage of. She didn’t want to hurt him. Truly she didn’t, but he wasn’t leaving her with much choice; Loki was wild even to Darcy’s eyes, out of control like an injured predator backed into a tight corner. And Darcy found herself afraid for him. Afraid of what came after when Odin was called on to judge his impulsive and foolish actions.

 As Thor threw him to the floor with a yell and fresh burst of blue-white, Darcy spied her chance; her arms and blades outstretched, she pounced across the floor, coming to a smooth stop where he lay.

Loki froze and all fighting immediately ceased as Darcy pressed her blades against his throat in an X, pinning him against the floor. The slightest movement and the wicked-sharp metal would slice through his skin as easily as butter. Slowly, cautiously with his armour melting away into a simple and unthreatening leather tunic, he raised his open and empty palms, Gungnir rolling away with a clatter. “Darcy-” he whispered, not daring to raise his voice. A fear he’d never imagined before shot through the entirety of his body at the cold, detached look in the Valkyrie’s eyes.

“Yield,” Darcy commanded.

“The blade is-”

What little space there was between bare skin and metal vanished. “Yield! Now!”

“I yield!”

“Darcy?” Thor pressed a gentle hand against her arm, careful not to startle her. “It is over. Darcy, he is bleeding and you must relax your grip, lest you take his head off completely.”

As her breathing calmed and the red mist began to drain away, Darcy finally managed to tear her gaze from Loki’s distinctly frightened expression to his throat; blood trickled down from the pair of clean slices, staining the collar of his forest green tunic a dark rust colour. Disgusted at herself, Darcy’s hold immediately loosened and she threw the blades aside, scrambling backwards from where he lay. “I can’t-” she gasped, a terrible fear gripping her tight. “I cannot do this no longer. It is too much.”

For the first time in her incredibly long life, Darcy gave into cowardice and fled.

Chapter Text

Perhaps Darcy’s blades were cursed, for it took the better part of three hours for the bleeding lines upon his throat to stop. The neck of Loki’s tunic was beyond saving by that time, but he didn’t care; after submitting, he’d allowed the guards to haul him away at Thor’s very reluctant request and be placed down here in the cells. Loki merely sat with his head in his hands now.

Oh how he had messed up. Maybe beyond repair this time since Darcy had still not been down to see him. Maybe she wouldn’t after he’d…

He’d pierced her side with a blade. Loki had regretted it the second it happened, but now that he was alone with his dark thoughts, the guilt tore at his chest and mind, a constant voice hissing monster with every frantic beat of his heart. If Darcy didn’t think the Jotun beasts before, he had confirmed it now. Blood didn’t lie after all and Loki came to the heavy decision that maybe it truly was in his nature to be a creature of nightmares, bringing devastation and destruction to everything around him. To shatter what he loved.

But no! Monsters could not love, he made himself remember, a hand winding into his lank hair. They did not care for anything other than themselves, but he loved Darcy. She grounded him, kept him sane during times where he would have surely lost his mind.

Footsteps echoed down the hall outside and he listened intently for familiar steps. But though they were ones he knew, they were much too heavy for Darcy’s lithe movements.

“I see the bleeding has stopped at long last” Thor noted quietly, walking up to the field that separated the pair.

“Obviously.”

“Father shall see you in the morning. Mother informed me that he woke up prematurely from the Odinsleep. Did you truly obliterate Laufey over his slumbering body?”

Loki chuckled softly, eyes still fixed upon the floor. “Here to remind me of my act of regicide? I’m well aware of what I did and would do it again.”

“No. I came to keep you company.” Thor pulled up the chair outside the barrier, seating himself upon it. “I did not like the idea of you sat alone with your thoughts.”

“I’ll pass. My dark thoughts are better company than you.”

But Thor ignored him, leaning back in the chair instead. “Loki, I wanted to discuss your parentage. I… did not know.”

Now he looked up, eyes ablaze and full of hate as he stared at the Prince of Asgard. “I do not,” Loki snapped, hands tightening upon his knees. “I intend to fully wash the revelation that I am a monster from my mind.”

“You’re not a monster. We were both raised on the tales of the Jotuns, the beasts that devoured children and froze entire worlds while laughing as they did so. Furthermore, they are supposedly unable to feel anything other than selfishness and hate. And we both know that is not you, Loki. You are far from a monster and I cannot apologize enough for what I have done to you. I’ve much to learn even now and I hope one day you – and Darcy – will forgive me with all your heart.”

Loki ignored the man’s prattling, even if it truly did sound sincere this time. “Where is Darcy? I… did not harm her too greatly?”

“She is with Heimdall. Odin has no intention to hand her over to the Valkyrie Order after her service to Asgard, but will not allow her to leave until after your trial. As I understand it, she is eager to return to Midgard. As for her health, she is unharmed after a visit to the healers. As for her mind, she is sad, Loki. She wishes to visit but cannot seem to make herself come down here.”

He nodded, numbness spreading through his body at the realization; Darcy didn’t want to see him. Of course she didn’t, even Loki did not want to see himself. “Nothing I did not expect and rightly deserve.”

Thor glanced down at the floor momentarily, a soft sigh upon his lips. “She shall come around. Allow her this moment of fury; Darcy gave up everything for you, Loki. Is it not understandable why she should be so aggrieved?”

“Stop talking. There is nothing you cannot say that I have not thought myself.”

A deep and uncomfortable silence fell and Loki filled it by rising to his feet and moving himself to the bed, lying down upon it with his back to Thor. It was a clear message, but one the prince did not take any note of.

“Darcy told me something else on Midgard, though it was more the slip of tongue – she is the last descendant of Sigrun. This was how she… well, saved you from death. I wanted to know if you were privy to such information.”

Loki let the words sink in, staring unblinkingly at the white wall opposite as his mind ran haywire in that moment; if Darcy was of royal blood, why had she never informed him? She was not the Valkyrie Commander, that much he was certain, for those exalted Commanders never left the distant realm of Valkyrjur. He could hear the echo of Darcy’s words when he’d asked so long ago about the hierarchy of the Order: “The Valkyrie haven’t been led by a true-blooded Commander for a very long time; the original three Commanders and founders of the Valkyrie Order vanished without warning one day, leaving their daughters to take up their abandoned mantle. Since then the true blood has dwindled down to nothing, leaving the hot blooded Generals to wrestle over the ‘crown’ though it is not their birthright. Our mandate remains the same, but the leaders change like the wind. Leaders all with different agendas.”

But it was Darcy’s birthright to lead, and furthermore, she had known about her ancient blood. Why had she consented to remain a simple Valkyrie Collector when she could be so much more, a queen in her own right? The Order at her feet?

There was so much he did not know about her. Had never thought to ask about.

“She does not wish to lead” Loki said aloud, more for himself than to answer Thor’s question. “Darcy warned me upon our initial meeting that it is never wise to chase a throne, for it changes a person.” And how very correct she had been. If only he’d paused, recalled her stark message about the allure of the throne and power that accompanied it.

“So you knew she was of royal blood?”

“No. Now leave me; your presence is grating.”

Thor did get up to leave; he did it with a loud scrape of the chair against stone, footsteps almost painfully loud in the strained silence. “Just know that I shall always call you brother, Loki. No matter the sentencing,” was his farewell and though he did not reply or indicate that he had heard, the man lying upon the bed felt somewhat thankful for the words.

Darcy did not come to visit him before he was led up to the throne room, his wrists bound with spelled chains that nipped at his skin every time they brushed against him. Loki held his head up high and proud rather than let the crushing feeling deep in his chest show. But he so nearly faltered in his masquerade when he entered the vast chamber to spy the familiar, slight form of Darcy in her Valkyrie armour stood next to Frigga, Thor a little way away. There was nothing telling in her expression. No familiar and comforting smile upon her face; in fact there was nothing at all her body gave away, and that hurt most of all.

He looked away, instead turning his attention to Odin where he sat in gilded ceremonial armour, resplendent upon his golden throne with Gungnir back within his grasp; Loki held his head a little higher, refusing to be cowed by the obvious display of intimidation. “Loki” he began, “do you know why you are here?”

Loki snorted. “Perhaps you should be the one answering that?” he laughed, allowing the smirk to break free. “What should I address you as now? ‘My King?’ Or perhaps something a little more grand and oppressing since you appear to be in the business of snatching children from their cradles and raising them upon a lie?”

He was almost disappointed when Odin did not rise to the bait, instead replying in a calm tone. “Though not by birth, you are my son, Loki. That shall never change.”

“No you’re not; Fathers do not lie to their sons for the entirety of their life. Fathers do not raise their sons on tales of monsters while knowing full well that their child is one.”

“Do you consider yourself a monster now, then?”

Loki felt himself grow angry, hands balling into fists within his constraints as he took a bold step closer with a hiss upon his lips. “I suppose I must be; is that not what you taught me as a child? That the Frost Giants are creatures of darkness and destruction? Hell-bent on t-?”

Odin set down Gungnir with a resounding boom, silencing the oncoming tirade in an instant. “Why are you here on trial, Loki?”

“I’d prefer not wasting an hour to rattle off my charges, old man.”

“You let the Jotuns into Asgard while I slumbered. You committed regicide upon killing Laufey and would have left your brother upon Midgard with a lie in his head. Jotunheim is baying at our doors for retribution and justice, and I’ve half a mind to allow them to have you as requested!”

Loki didn’t respond immediately; Jotunheim demanded his head? It was fair, he supposed. They wouldn’t have it though. He’d be long gone before the Frost Giants caught up with him. “Then what is my punishment? To be confined to the depths of Asgard, whiling away eternity?”

“You shall not be remaining here on Asgard, nor confined on Jotunheim for eventual execution.”

Now he was confused and made no effort to hide the fact. “Then where am I to go?”

A pause and Odin stretched out a hand towards… Darcy, inviting her to step forward. She did so, hands resting atop each her blades. There was still nothing of any note to see upon her face. “As Asgard attempts to renew its peace negotiations with Jotunheim, you cannot be present within this city; you are bound for Midgard,” Odin informed him clearly. “Lady Darcae of the Valkyrie Order is a fugitive, as are you after this date. She has volunteered to be your keeper upon the Realm. Asgard owes her a great boon in stopping you when she did. You are exiled, Prince Loki of Asgard, and never to return to these golden halls on pain of death.”

Surely he had been rendered deaf in that instant? Loki stared at the man until the information finally, truly sank in; though it was harsh a sentencing to be presented with exile to the common ear, it was nothing of the sort for him. Quite the opposite in fact.

He was… free?

Odin was allowing him to leave, and with Darcy?

And this was all Darcy’s doing. Though the Valkyrie said nothing upon their gazes locking, Loki could have sworn that he’d spied a mischievous glint in her eyes for a split second. This was a new start. Not just for him, but for the both of them together. A chance to talk, to heal wounds that were both old and new. If he was destined to be a fugitive from the realm of ice creatures, let it be with Darcy at his side.

Loki made a noise of cool dismissal though his heart leapt with something much more joyous. “I accept your sentencing, All-Father.”

Chapter Text

 Loki was placed within his quarters rather than the palace cells. With he and Darcy destined to leave that very evening, he worked on deciding just what to take down with him to Midgard. His books he popped into a personal dimensional pocket along with other items of value. After wondering about Darcy’s funds, he also slipped in the stray golden items he owned and jewels – were diamonds precious upon Midgard? Hopefully. Loki tucked the fist-sized jewels he used for amplifying certain spells into the magical pocket as well.

 While rifling through his drawers, tossing everything over his shoulder as he went, Loki paused; he plucked out the long and rather battered white feather, recognizing it immediately as the first he’d been gifted nearly a thousand years ago now. The nib was broken and feather itself frayed from age and heavy use, but Loki still found himself marvelling at its beauty. He smiled at the memories that accompanied the simple little thing.

Carefully, Loki worked a swift spell and shrunk the feather until it was no bigger than his little finger. Then he affixed it by magic to a length of thin leather retrieved from within the mess, placing it around his neck and tucking it beneath the line of his fresh tunic. He felt somewhat… calmer once the feather was resting against his bare flesh of his chest.

Thor came by an hour later as Loki was delving through his weapons collection – mostly daggers, but there was a sword or two in there as well. He took extra care in packing the blue pair of daggers Darcy had pressed upon him during his first visit to Midgard. There was also a shining ebony bow inlaid with silver, a half depleted quiver of matching arrows lying next to it. He left them where they lay, having no plans to take up archery anytime soon.

“I pity the maids that are called to clean this” was Thor’s amused greeting as he carefully stepped over a pile of old and discarded books, shutting the door behind him with a soft snap. “Mother sends her deepest regrets that she cannot be here to say goodbye personally. She wishes for you to know that she will visit Midgard when possible. She also sends you her unending love.”

Loki sat back within the mess, taking a moment to breathe as he finally looked up at Thor. There was no hate in his gaze, nor in his voice. It was almost cordial. “I understand. But why are you here delivering that message when a maid could have just as swiftly?”

“Because I wished to talk before you left for Midgard.” Thor crouched down and scooped up a small leather notebook, flipping it open; he tossed it to Loki to pack upon spying the alchemical formulas and spell components. “I’d like for us to part on amicable terms, brother.”

“Why do you still insist on calling me your brother?”

“Are you not?” Thor sank down upon the edge of the bed, gazing steadily at the man. “I know I have treated you abominably and you detest me – and rightly so – but I promise that I will never cease to call you my brother. We will mend these broken bonds, Loki, I swear it. I shall visit you upon Midgard, I swear this also.”

Loki opened his mouth to snap that he didn’t want Thor to visit, for him to stay as far away as possible, but… no words came out. He closed his mouth instead, frowning up at the man; Thor wasn’t one for subterfuge. In fact, he was positively hopeless at it, preferring to blunder in and hit his target into submission instead. Loki refused to admit it, but he was tired. So tired of the incessant hate and dark thoughts that ate away at his heart, especially when he set eyes upon Asgard’s golden prince. Was this not a chance to perhaps be rid of that shadowy part of him at long last and find some semblance of peace? Maybe he could forgive Thor eventually, with time, but never forget. Were they not adults now, destined to walk their own paths as dictated by the fates?

“We shall talk,” Loki said slowly, fingers rolling up a length of parchment. “Not today, but we will. But if our talks should fail, I suggest we part and never again meet.”

“I agree.” Thor clasped his hands before him and nodded, eyes flickering to the floor momentarily. Loki supposed that he was hoping for a more immediate outcome, but left it be as he shoved the last of his personal effects away. One way or another, he was ready. Ready for what, he wasn’t quite sure just yet.

What was Midgard like now? Still a war-torn mess?

“Does Darcy hate me?” Loki found himself asking, almost fearful of the reply.

Thor seemed puzzled by his sudden question. “Why do you ask? Because she has not visited you? Lady Darcy is with Heimdall upon the Bifrost, and has been since your sentencing at the All-Father’s request. They discuss the stars as both of them can hear the song of the cosmos, whatever that is.”

“Ah.” But that still didn’t answer the question as to why Darcy hadn’t been to see him after conspiring to set him free from both Asgard and cold clutches of Jotunheim. Loki still felt as numb as he did since before the sentencing, laid out in his cell with nothing but his troubled thoughts for company. He was free, but couldn’t feel it. In fact, he couldn’t feel anything at all other than the constant sting of the narrow slices upon either side of his throat. They still refused to heal by magic.

Thor paid no attention to his moroseness. “All will be well, Loki; I’m certain that your Valkyrie knows exactly what she is doing, and that the pair of you shall be fine once you land upon Midgard.”

For the first time in his life, Loki wished he shared Thor’s optimism instead of the constant paranoia and other feelings of general hopelessness.

There was no gathered crowd or grand farewell when it was time for him to leave. Loki was ushered from his room along with a small contingent of armed guards, though they were decidedly not needed since he couldn’t wait to leave the cursed Realm. At the entrance to the Bifrost Bridge, Loki spied Frigga and felt his heart lighten the tiniest of fractions when she swept aside a guard and pulled him into her embrace; he returned it gently, accepting her kiss upon his cheek and sad smile of farewell before he was prodded onto the bridge. It startled him how much her goodbye affected him; Loki realized that he would miss only one thing about this Realm, and that was his mother.

It seemed like an age had passed by the time they made it down to the Gate, leaving the shining rainbow of the bridge behind. Only two people other than Heimdall stood waiting: Darcy and the King.

Loki didn’t expect tearful goodbyes or warm embraces from Odin, and he wasn’t disappointed when the man held his distance, choosing to speak from afar. “From this day forward, Loki of Asgard, Lady Darcy holds your life in her hands. Farewell,” the All-Father informed him, though Loki didn’t so much as bother to glance his way; Darcy had always held his life in her hands, as well as his heart. He didn’t need to be told something he already knew.

Darcy stepped over, her blades clinking softly against her hips – she held out a gloved hand for him to take. A pause and Loki took it firmly, curling his fingers around her own. When he chanced a glance towards her face, he was met with a small smile. It was such a small gesture, but Loki marvelled at how much it set his heart at ease.

Maybe she didn’t hate him after all.

Heimdall inclined his head, setting the vast sword down within the lock and twisting it sharply. “Fare thee well, Prince Loki and Lady Darcae.”

Then they stepped into the blazing light together and let the rainbow carry them on.

It was early morning when they landed, that much was evident from the gentle twitter of birds within the trees and the soft blue-grey glow that was the sky.

Loki had absolutely no idea where he was. There was scarce anything else to see other than the line of tall trees to the East and the vast fields and bushes everywhere else, lush green and other assorted colours staining it a pretty picture. Gravel crunched beneath his feet as Darcy led them forward and up a long path, their hands parting. Past a trickle of bountiful apple trees lay a house of white stone, its roof dotted with shining panels that looked like reflective mirrors. He raised an eyebrow at the odd technology. “Where are we?” he asked upon reaching the length of matching white fencing surrounding a field.

“Home,” Darcy replied simply, striding towards the door.

But before Loki could think of a suitable reply, the door flew open and a young woman stood there in her nightwear. As he watched, her eyes widened almost comically, as did her smile and she threw herself down the few steps and into Darcy’s waiting embrace, both dissolving into laughter as they hugged. Loki watched the scene in stunned silence, his confusion only deepening as Darcy pressed her lips to the woman’s cheek affectionately, saying something in her ear that he didn’t catch.

Then the woman turned her bright and attentive gaze on him. Loki held back, wondering if he looked as apprehensive as he felt as she observed him like a predator would its prey. “Oof-!” he grunted as she flung her arms around him also, utterly taking him by surprise.

“I have heard so much about you!” the woman gushed as she ignored his tense and unyielding body completely and squeezed him so tight Loki thought that his chest might explode. “And at last we meet, Loki!”

Darcy giggled from somewhere beyond the din the hug was creating in his ears. “Let him go, would you? I think you’ve frightened him into silence.”

“Not afraid” Loki next to choked out, almost gasping for air when he was at last let go and his lungs could once more expand. “ Who are you, exactly?” Perhaps he was mistaken, but this woman – well, scarce more than a teenager really – didn’t feel like a simple Midgardian. She felt more.

She felt like… Darcy.

“You’re a Valkyrie.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation.

The woman shook her head, running her long fingers through her shoulder-length black hair as the wind mussed it gently. “By blood only. I’m Alina.”

Loki shot Darcy a long look, more curious than anything. “Have you been taking in strays?”

The woman laughed softly, shaking her head. Darcy then stepped over and gently brushed the back of her hand across Alina’s dressing gown clad shoulder. “Just the one. Call it fate or chance that led me to her. Come Loki – inside. Alina makes a peppermint tea that’ll put hairs on even your skinny chest.”

Just before Loki stepped inside the quaint little house, he heard a soft chuffing sound and turned automatically; there was Lyra, her large head bobbing up and down as she pressed herself against the fence in an effort to greet him, her vast wings rustling as the morning breeze caught them. A single white feather fluttered with the wind, tumbling down in circles until it came to rest against his booted ankle; Loki bent down and picked it up, tucking it into his coat with a nod of thanks.

‘Home’ Darcy called this place. Could it really be that for him also?

Chapter Text

Darcy had not lied about the tea; it was so strong and pungent that Loki immediately found himself choking, eyes wide as he hastily slammed it back down onto the small oak table. Surely the nerves in his throat were either dead or dying.

After the pealing laughter from Alina, Loki didn’t touch it again, content to sit in silence within the plushy armchair as the women conversed about just why he was there. Though Darcy notably left out the part where he stabbed her in a fit of rage and madness. Though for whose benefit that was, he didn’t know. Alina hadn’t flinched at the other bloody details, after all. In fact, she’d snorted with laughter when Darcy had admitted that she’d almost taken his head off, stating that the course of true love never did run smooth.

How very correct she was.

Alina was beautiful. It unnerved Loki just how stunning the demure woman was. She was nothing but smiles and sunshine, even around him. Those stunning sapphire eyes met his almost shifty ones regularly, only curiosity within them. No fear. No disappointment or anger.

After an hour in which Loki had said nothing, his tea untouched, Darcy excused herself to go and shower. Then the staring began.

Loki felt his eyes narrow after ten minutes of sly glances and outright looks. “Why must you stare so intently?”

Alina smiled sheepishly, clasping her hands in her lap. Her fingers played with each other, twisting around. “Sorry. I just… cannot believe that it’s you! Darcy told me such stories about you all my life.”

“All your life? How long have you known Darcy?” The girl didn’t look more than eighteen earth years.

Alina didn’t answer right away. She took the cups into the kitchen first, setting them gently down within the washing up bowl and running a stream of water down upon them. Only when she returned did Alina reply. “I have known Darcy for quite a long time now. She found me in the forties, cowering beneath the ruins of my shattered house and my parents dead at my side.”

“Your home was attacked?”

“We were hit by an incendiary bomb during the Second World War. Me and my parents resided in London when the evil Nazi’s flew overhead and unleashed their fire and fury down upon us. Those times were called the Blitz to the Midgardians. Darcy was fighting alongside this American army group, lending them her skills when they came upon me. I was six earth years at the time. Darcy felt what I was, grabbed me and said her goodbyes to her group in order to keep me safe. I can never repay her for her kindness and guidance. She is not just my friend, but my mother and I love her dearly.”

Just when Loki thought that Darcy couldn’t make him swell with renewed pride, she went and proved him wrong. Gods, to drop out of a war at a split second just to take care of a child like that… she was a rare woman indeed.

But he already knew that.

“You are very fortunate indeed. Do you know much of… me?”

Alina nodded. Upon spying the uncertainty plain in Loki’s face, she giggled. “Do not look at me like that! Darcy only told me the best bits about you. In fact, for the entirety of my childhood, it was you that Darcy would speak of when she told me my bedtime stories. A prince born of frost who believes himself a monster, but isn’t. You were this fairytale prince that she was in love with, no matter the cost. And because of her actions, she feared that she would never see you again. Actually, I thought you fiction only when I grew out of childish stories. I feel like I know you… but I don’t.”

“I have a feeling that we shall get to know each other much more now I am confined to earth.”

Far from smiling, the young woman merely smirked. It was the mirror image of Darcy’s own. “Does this mean I get to call you ‘Father?’”

Loki deadpanned. “No.”

There were endless images dotting Darcy’s house; on the walls, propped up in metal and wooden frames and tacked to the contraptions in the kitchen. They all spoke of love, of family and acceptance. Most of them were of Alina at various ages, and then came a wall entirely full of photos dedicated to Lyra. Of course there were no pictures of him. How could there be, after all? Loki stared at the strangers also on the walls, smiling with their arms around Darcy’s shoulders, a strange feeling settling low in his gut.

Upstairs, he slipped into her sunny yellow and grey themed bedroom with her blades crossed upon the wall above the bed, highly polished and sharp enough to slice through the steel bed frame below with little trouble. A fierce jealousy clawed at him at the sight of a black and white photo perched next to her bed on the nightstand; he slowly drew it into his hands, staring at the image of a beaming Darcy sandwiched between two handsome and smiling men in army uniforms, their arms around her waist.

He didn’t have the right to feel so jealous, Loki told himself firmly, fingers tight on the wooden frame. None at all, for there had been many years since her absence, and of course she was allowed to be happy in that time. Of course she was allowed to be intimate with other men if she so wished; hadn’t he lain with the occasional woman during those dark and turbulent times? Let the past remain where it was, and these men also. At the end of the day, she had chosen him. Him and no one else.  

The picture tumbled to the floor, slipping from his lax fingers; Loki stooped down and snatched it up just in time before the glass shattered upon the wooden floor. He dared breathe out a sigh of relief, placing it back down in its proper spot.

Across the room, a door clicked open and a plume of steam erupted into the room. “What are you doing?”

Jealousy swiftly gave way to guilt as he met Darcy’s suspicious gaze. He’d obviously interrupted her shower as she wrapped the voluminous towel tighter around her lithe form, sopping dark hair dripping down her face and shoulders. He swallowed hard at the sight. “Admiring your portraits.”

“They’re called photographs.” She folded her arms tight and nodded towards the one he’d almost dropped. “Be careful with that one, please? It’s very old and irreplaceable. Not to mention priceless.”

“No harm done, Darcy. I swear.”

“Good. I won’t be a moment, let me just turn the shower off.” A flurry of towel and she stepped back inside; Loki heard the hiss of a tap turning, the patter of water slowing to a stop. This time when Darcy emerged, she was wrapped in a cocooning robe of fluffy dove grey, a hairbrush in her hand. She stopped before the floor-length mirror on the back of the door, closing it with a snap.

Loki sank down onto the chaise lounge by the dormer window, watching the smooth movements of the brush as she pulled it through her hair. In battle and not, those hands were elegant and never ceased to amaze him in their dexterity. Time had made him forget just how soft those fingers could be, despite the calluses and scars that marred her lovely skin. She was a creature of war, after all.

After a few minutes, he rose back to his feet and reached out, plucking the brush from her grip and taking stand behind her. “We need to talk,” Loki insisted softly, bringing the brush back to her long tresses.

Darcy hummed softly. She’d closed her eyes when Loki glanced over her shoulder at her reflection, her face relaxed and at peace. In comparison he looked gaunt with his eyes troubled and lips a thin line. What an undignified mess I have become.

“Of what?” the woman murmured.

His hand stilled and a scoff slipped past his lips. “Surely you jest, Darcy?”

“Not at all.”

“The throne room-”

“You stabbed me and I almost took your head off and now you’re an exile as I am. What more is there to talk about?”

 “About what happens now?” Loki made to catch hold of her waist with his free hand, but the feeling of holding her like he’d so longed to for all those years… it sent a shock through him and he found himself unable to. It felt almost like a sin to touch her so intimately after what he’d done to her in that throne room. He half expected to be struck down where he stood by some cosmic interference.

Darcy turned to face him, gazing up with her expression nigh unreadable. “Well, what happens now? You tell me.”

“I cannot decide that; you are my keeper after all. If anything, I am at your mercy.”

“Loki, I am not intending to hurt you or lock you up like Asgard. Were my actions not ones of saving you from yourself and Asgard after all?”

 “I feel… adrift. On Asgard at least, I knew my path and my eventual fate. I… why did you do it, Darcy? You did not have to come back and endanger yourself in such a way. You could have let Thor and fate run its course and no one would blame you. Coming back endangered Lyra and your Alina also. It was reckless. I am not worth it.” He closed his eyes. How strange it was to care so much about one person’s words. Was this the love they spoke of in epic tales and sultry ballads? Loki wasn’t sure anymore, for theirs had never been a conventional romance, nor ever would be. It was a partnership of storms and butterflies.

A gentle hand brushed against his cheek, causing him to flinch sharply; rather than pull away, the hand only adjusted their grip. “Open your eyes,” Darcy commanded in a soft but firm tone. He obeyed instantly. “I love you, that’s why I came back, you foolish man. You are more than worth it. And if anyone was going to kill you, it was going to be me; you are mine, prince, in every way because my soul demands it and will not be denied no longer.”

He could fall to his knees, Loki reasoned. Kneel before her and feel no shame at all for the action, no dent to his enormous pride. Wasn’t she essentially a queen, after all? A Commander of the Valkyrie Order if she so wished to be.

Eventually, he rediscovered his hoarse voice. “Thank you. For everything.” Loki’s hand ghosted against her waist. “And I am sorrier than you could ever…” What kind of man stabbed his lover, even in the midst of madness?

Taking hold of his hand, Darcy led him over to the bed, sitting them down upon it. She drew him down towards her, eyes fixed upon the bandage still soaking up the dribbles of blood from the wounds she had inflicted with her blades. Slowly she unwound the length of cloth and tossed it aside, running a thumb across the slice and staining the skin crimson. “The blades cut the soul if wielded by a Valkyrie,” she told him as she inspected them closer, turning his head to each side in turn. “The more troubled the soul, the more damage it causes. You are most fortunate, Loki; in my placing your soul back inside you, it wiped away the blemishes of your past and youth upon it. Those coupled with the previous week, and I fear that I would not have been able to repair the damage done. But as such, it is possible with time.”

“You have saved my soul.”

“Yes.” Darcy’s mouth found his throat and Loki leaned into her touch eagerly rather than shunning it as before, hands finding her knees before sliding up her thighs to settle at her sturdy hips. She placed open mouthed kisses upon his throat, moving from one side to the other; Loki felt the sting of his wounds dwindle away into a blissful nothing as she lavished her attention upon him, tongue swiping broad strokes across his skin like an artist wielding a paintbrush. The second her mouth left his neck be, he caught her lips with his own and for one long, glorious moment, it felt like they’d never been parted.

This was the definition of peace.

Then Darcy’s phone rang and Loki was left sitting alone with his brain trying to catch up with what had happened and throat growing cold in abandonment.

Though her cheeks were flushed, Darcy gave nothing away as she talked, slightly breathlessly to the person on the end of the line. Someone called Jane, Loki surmised with how often he’d heard Darcy asking her to calm down, and that she herself was safe. When the call ended, he raised an eyebrow. “A friend?”

“Yes,” Darcy groaned, smoothing her wet hair away from her face. “I may have… left her in New Mexico to pursue you with Thor. And neglected to tell her that I was safe or back. And I think she’s figured out that uh… I’m not normal. Crap.”

Loki snorted. “Very cruel of you.”

“She is in New York tomorrow along with our other friend, Erik. Her research on the Einstein-Rosen Bridges has-”

“Pardon?” Loki looked more than lost.

“Her research on the Bifrost has garnered quite a bit of interest and credibility since New Mexico. At least, with the people who are allowed to know about the event. I’m just thankful that they’ve never bothered me; they certainly know I’m not exactly human-” she nodded to the photo beside her bed. “That was taken before I found Alina, in fact. And by a camera I suspect the American government confiscated because of how classified its contents were.”

“Who are they? The men in your picture?”

“Steven Rogers and Bucky Barnes. They’re long dead now. My only regret is that I never felt their passing… for them, I would have braved the wrath of the Valkyrie Order and took them onwards into Valhalla. They deserved it…” She strode over and leaned down, bringing her lips to his cheek in a soft, demure kiss. “That’s the past now. Does your throat feel better?”

“Much, thank you. Incidentally, do you heal everyone you wound like that?”

Darcy grinned, eyes alight with mischief as she took his hand into her own and brought it up to her lips. “Only the pretty ones.”

Chapter Text

“I am not wearing that.”

With a frustrated growl, Darcy balled up the third shirt to have been rejected and tossed it aside. To be fair, Loki had liked that last shirt. It was just much more fun to observe Darcy as she sank deeper into frustration, her cheeks growing steadily more crimson. “You cannot prance around New York like that! You’ll cause a panic. Midgard is not accustomed to ceremonial armour and helms.”

Alina peered over the top of her book, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the man in head to toe leather once more. “I don’t know… there’s thousands of weirdo’s wandering around New York. What’s one more?”

Loki rounded on her with a hand settling upon his hip. Definitely Darcy's daughter. “Charmed.”

“Hey-” Alina set down her book and pulled herself to her feet, reaching over and snagging his emerald cape, proceeding to tug sharply upon it. “I think the whole armour is awesome, I really do. Well…” she looked up with a theatrical look of disgust staining her lovely face. “Apart from that helmet. What are you the God of again? The God of Cows? Terrible and Horrific Hats?”

“It’s ceremonial. You couldn’t possibly understand, little Valkyrie.”

“It’s ugly. You hit your head on the doorframe earlier because you didn’t duck low enough. Do you lower your head and charge like a bull, spearing whoever gets in your way, perhaps?”

Loki rounded on Darcy who was discreetly hiding her smirk by busying herself with folding the remaining shirts. “May I slap her, darling?”

“You may not.”

He brought his thumb and forefinger close together, a heartbeat from pouting. “Not even a little?”

“Not even a little.” Darcy dropped the pile down onto the chair, peering up at his golden helm herself and squinting at it. “In any case, she is correct; that helmet is ugly, and it always has been.”

Loki tutted as he removed the helmet and set it atop the pile of folded clothes. “And now, after all these years, the truth comes out.”

Alina snickered yet again, stooping down and snatching up a copy of a fashion magazine from a jumbled pile of papers. She tossed it to him. “Here – you can cast illusions I hear? Copy one of these for now. Something… Trendy.”

Midgardian fashion was… bizarre. Nothing had a cape, and leather seemed to come in colours more bright than he’d ever set eyes upon. Who had need of a pink leather waistcoat after all? “So I should wear this…” he cocked his head at the page before him, turning it around to face the women stood before him. “A garment that proclaims ‘pugs not drugs.’ What is a pug, exactly?”

“It's a very cute animal. Please,” Alina next to whined, pressing her palms together. “Wear that. You’ll be my favourite person.”

“I thought that I already was?”

Darcy thrust a new magazine into his chest, nearly knocking him back a few steps from the force of it. “Just wear this, fussy. It’s modern and it’ll suit even your skinny rear. Leave the jacket off, it’s not going to be a cool day.”

He made the white button-down shirt black instead of white, the accents a deep forest green instead of navy. Darcy took one look at his smirk and spread arms and rolled her eyes, muttering “emo prince” as she turned away and scooped up the discarded clothes.

Alina presented him with two thumbs up, a genuine grin plastered across her face. “The pug t-shirt was better, but this’ll do.”

After slipping back into a more comfortable tunic, Loki returned back to the sun-drenched living room to find Alina still in the same spot, her book open once more. It was only when he glanced at the runic title that he realized it was a book on Valkyrie magic.

Valkyrie’s did have magic; Darcy had told him that a few times throughout his life. It was not clear cut like his own, but something far different and horrific without any training. He took a seat beside her, the sofa creaking softly. “Are you experienced with magic?”

Alina shook her head, running her thumb across the line of the yellowed page before setting it down. “Enough, I suppose. Darcy taught me the rudimentary spells to take care of myself, and to ward myself from visiting Valkyrie’s. I can still feel the souls around me, nothing will ever change that; like yours. It’s cracked around the edges, like a cliff face battered by a terrible storm. The other fissures ran much deeper, but Darcy has filled those – I can see her mark on you. On your very soul.”

“What does it look like? Looking at a soul? There are many things I never thought to ask of Darcy.”

Alina scrunched up her face, wringing her hands in her lap. It was such a Darcy thing to do. She truly was akin to being her true daughter. “Like a jewel, deep within your heart. An aura…? Smoke given form? It’s impossible to explain. Everyone is born with a pure white soul, and it darkens as we injure and corrupt it with our actions and thoughts.”

“And… the colour of my own-?” He wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know. What if it was black beyond repair?

“You are grey, Loki. A soft grey, dove grey like Darcy’s robe in fact.”

“Is that… good?”

“It’s the colour most people have, actually. No one has a pure white soul, and I mean no one. It may start out as pure white, but it scarce remains like that for long. From the age of two, usually a soul will begin to darken very slightly around the edges. At least, it does with humans. Darcy has never seen a soul of pure white before, and she sincerely doubts that she ever shall; the world is naturally a dark place.”

So he was… normal. How strange it was to feel relieved at that. “And the others? The dark souls?”

A shadow crossed Alina’s pretty face. “Those that harm others by choice. The worst are the murderers, Loki; their souls turn crimson as it bleeds from the damage. There is no saving the red and black souls. Not for anything. But anyway, enough of that-” the smile returned. “Are you really blue under all that? Darcy told me what you are, I hope you don’t mind? I don't intend to shout it from the rooftops.”

He didn’t, not really. It was simple fact now, what he was. He couldn’t change it after all, but nor did he have to embrace it. “I am, but do not ask me to demonstrate.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The squint returned as she reached out and took his shoulders, peering into his face. “Weird,” she muttered as her hands slid away into her lap. “I can’t imagine what you’d look like. Like an evil raspberry Slush Puppy.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

Alina sighed a little in longing, closing her eyes momentarily. “Heaven, Loki. You wait and see tomorrow. I want to see if you can get brainfreeze.”

Chapter Text

When evening approached and Darcy cooked dinner (something called lasagne that he found strangely appetizing) it at last began to sink in that this was his home from now on. Never again would he set foot upon Asgard, nor face their sneers and looks of utter contempt. The Idiots Three were a realm away and so was Thor. For now at least.

The crushing weight of being trapped that had settled deep within his heart for what felt like eons ago was lifting, he could feel it. He was free, truly free. Those straight paths that had been set out for him since his birth had been scrubbed clean from the ground, replaced instead by ones whose destinations eluded him. Destinations that Darcy would have a hand in creating.

Alina retired early, leaving Loki downstairs with Darcy. A nervous energy settled deep within him at the realisation that they were alone together. Truly alone. He leaned against the refrigerator contraption and merely watched her as she bustled around, cleaning up the mess that had been dinner. Eventually though, she sighed heavily. “You're staring.”

How could he not? She was such a rare jewel. “You are so beautiful, Darcy. How could I not?”

“I had almost forgotten how sweet you can be. Especially when you desire something. “

Desire something? He didn't in that moment. Well, save for Darcy herself. Perhaps that was what she meant. “I was merely observing your sleep garments. They're… unusual.” Unusual being covered in prints of strange looking green fruit or vegetables. Loki couldn't quite make heads or tails of the design.

“Huh?” Darcy glanced down, a sudden laugh slipping from her lips. “Oh. They're called avocados. You can eat them. They're very nice, actually “

Loki didn't know what to say. It was all… awkward. Small talk and safe conversations once more. She hadn't touched him since healing his cuts and then kissing him. When it came to him changing clothes, she averted her eyes elsewhere. The Darcy he knew was bold and unapologetic. Not… shy. Tentative.

“Darcy,” he started quietly, “you told me that I was yours. And since then, you have refrained from touching me. Have I offended you somehow? “

Darcy gazed at him for a long moment, then shook her head. She moved over to the stool of the breakfast bar and took it, he taking the one next to her. She offered him a small but encouraging smile. “You've done nothing at all. It's just merely me. I lived an entirely different life while we were parted. Human wars and causes and raising Alina was a world away from that old life, the Valkyrie I was. I've found that I like my human roots and blood, Loki. I enjoy being a mother. Midgard has been home in a way that the Valkyries have never been. And now you're here in the middle of it all. You, my other home. I can scarce believe it, really. I've missed you so very much.“ She leaned in, crossing the space between them to press her lips to his own. It wasn't a deep kiss, but tender and shallow. Like she was afraid he'd vanish if she kissed a fraction harder.

Loki slid a hand to the small of her back when she made to pull away. “Whoever you are now, I still care deeply for you. You are my first love, and my last. And that shall never change.”

She beamed against his lips, then pressed their foreheads together. Darcy was so radiant when she smiled so wide. Like a supernova at its very peak, almost blinding to stare at head on. “Now you're definitely after something,” she accused playfully, nipping at his lips. “What is it?”

“You,” he answered truthfully, pulling back a fraction to gaze at her expression. There was no change, just love and acceptance. It gave him the courage needed in that moment. “I want your body, to make it mine and mine alone. I want to share your bed, to never have to sleep alone again. I want you.”

Darcy stared for a long moment after his declaration. Spots of color rose in her cheeks, staining them a pretty hue. “How bold you have become.”

Loki smirked, leaning in towards her. His hand caught her own and he brought it up to his lips briefly, gazing deep into her eyes  “I'm no longer a boy or even an adolescent, Darcy. I'm a man. A man with potent desires. And I intend to have you this evening in every way we so desire. If you'll have me?”

She let out a small exhale, gaze not straying from his own. “I'll have you. Always.”

There was something else. Something she wasn't telling him, Loki was sure. He knew her little tells, the small signals that others never picked up on. Who else would doubt a Valkyrie?

“What is it?” Maybe she didn't want him. Was humouring him and…

The prickles of rejection must have been visible on his face, for Darcy pressed a small kiss to his cheek. “I do want you, you silly man. No need to look so dejected. Only… I've never been with a man.”

Been… as in...

Was that… even possible-?

Loki blinked, utterly taken aback. Genuinely confused and… bewildered. “Truly? Never? But your age and…” well, she was stunning.

Darcy shook her head, tucking a lock of escaped hair behind her ear. He understood in that moment just why she, o’ mighty Valkyrie, was scarlet; Darcy was embarrassed. “Never. Valkyrie's are solely female. The only males we encountered were either the departed souls themselves or the companions of said soul. We never lingered once the reaping was over. The time I spent with you… Valkyrie's are not meant to do such a thing. The obedient ones don't. I broke the rules in their droves, and I'd do it all again if I had to.“

Even now she was still just full of surprises. “I apologise. You exude such wisdom, you always have. And to hear this from your lips. “ Loki chuckled, glancing down briefly. “I can scarce believe it. I do apologise.“

Darcy raised a brow. She tutted suddenly, folding her arms upon the tabletop. “You seem to believe that I am entirely innocent like a blushing young maiden locked in a tower. Make no mistake that I have had more women than you ever have. Just because there wasn't any men doesn't mean that we missed out on pleasures of the flesh. And I know exactly what pleasure is, my love. And that I am not untouched and virginal in the body.”

Now that was… quite the image. Quite the arousing one at that. He made no attempt to disguise the hard swallow and breathless edge to his voice. “In that case, I suggest we retire to the bedchamber and I educate you in real pleasure.”

Darcy slowly rose to her feet at his words. He awaited her response with bated breath, watching as she reached for his hand and took it firmly, pulling him to his feet. “Yes,” she simply replied, eyes almost dazed. “Loki. I… yes. “

Where was that famed Valkyrie bravery now? It seemed to desert her as he took the cue to take control of the situation, to lead her through the house and up the stairs. When the bedroom door snapped shut behind them, Darcy still hadn't said a word, face still betraying her dazed emotions. Loki waved a hand behind him and the lock clicked shut.

“Darcy?” Loki stepped before her, hands taking her hips into them. “You're being exceptionally quiet and unopinionated.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, pressing her forehead into his chest. “I can't seem to make myself move, or even formulate… well, anything.”

Loki chuckled, raising his arms and wrapping them around her. He squeezed her gently, kissing the top of her head affectionately. “I felt like that for many years. Every single time I saw you, in fact. My heart felt like it would burst from the intensity of it all. No, I still feel that way with you. Can you not feel my heart? It races as it always has done when I'm with you..”

“I've felt this before as well. Sometimes I desperately tried not to, but no matter what I said, what I did, it never went away.” Darcy snorted, slapping his arm suddenly. “It's your fault! You've thoroughly corrupted me, you swine.”

Loki merely laughed, still grinning widely as he sneaked a moment with her lips. “To that I take full responsibility. But you're wrong - I can definitely corrupt you a little more. No, a great deal more.”

He saw the precise moment that the dazed look faded and a modicum of her usual courage rushed through Darcy. She hooked an arm around his neck and drew him down to her height, kissing him with a fervour that near took his breath away. Working in tandem they started on the other's clothes, Darcy pulling open the top two buttons of his shirt without much care. One vanished beneath the bed as it was treated too roughly. Loki divested her of the strangely endearing avocado garment and cast it aside, leaving her bare from the waist up. He paused to let Darcy to pull the shirt off him and let it drop.

Loki allowed himself a moment to take in the glorious sight before him. Of the voluptuous swells of her breasts and their peaks stained a dark and dusky rose. A low groan rumbled at the back of his throat as he lowered his head towards them, lips ghosting across the underside of her right one. “Beautiful,” he breathed, now pressing an openmouthed kiss between the warm and inviting pair; Darcy shuddered beneath him, breath catching. Now her heart was truly hammering, he could feel it for himself. Roaring in synchronisation with his own.

Darcy shifted slightly so that his mouth was against her breast; she laced a hand into his hair and tugged gently. Acquiescing to her silent request, his lips wrapped around the hard and pebbled flesh and sucked.

The sound Darcy made was simply exquisite. Half moan and the other half his name, Loki lavished his attention on her warm flesh until she began to desperately feel for his zipper, palming at the bulge already formed within his jeans. She tore open the button and zipper with a feverish impatience, hand bypassing the line of his underwear and delving straight in for him without preamble.

Now he swore, gasping against her breast as her fingers brushed against him, rubbing in tandem with the movements of his tongue on her breast. Loki abandoned her chest in favour of hooking his fingers into the loose elastic holding up her matching bottoms and yanking them down to her ankles. Darcy stepped out of them and proceeded to do the same to him, using a little more force than strictly needed to cast away his jeans and underwear.

Breathing heavily, they parted for a moment, taking the opportunity to observe one another in all their naked splendour. Loki drank in as much as he could, eyes scouring the lines of her strong, powerful body. What drew his attention immediately was the scars.

“So many,” he found himself saying under his breath, fingers tracing the line of one particularly thick and jagged one on her lower belly. It was like someone had tried to spill her innards. The mere thought made rage tear through him, hot and intense. And there were many more almost as bad, some thin and others thick. It made Loki feel slightly sick to think of her bleeding so heavily at some point in her life.

And then he found another. Only this one was small, but only half healed red and angry skin. Loki knew this one, for he'd been the one to cause it. A fit of rage and he'd added to her catalogue of scars.

Darcy's fingers brushed across his cheek, bringing his attention back to her face. She simply smiled. “It doesn't hurt, or matter anymore.”

That wasn't true. “Of course it matters. If I could take it back, I would in a heartbeat. I'm sorry for raising a blade to you, my love. Never again.”

“I know. I love you.” Darcy's eyes moved to his neck and her expression softened. “You've scars also. And I'm sorry too.“

“You don't need to apologise, Darcy. Not now, not ever.” Loki grasped her waist and lifted her up easily onto his hips, shifting them over to the bed and gently settling her down upon her back, himself bearing down above her. She moaned softly as he pressed his weight against her equally as bare form.

Darcy let out a small, almost nervous chuckle. Her fingers reached up, wrapping around a lock of dark hair before tucking it safely away behind his ear. “So here we are?”

It made him echo her quiet laugh. “So here we are.” Loki pressed his knee between Darcy's own, easing them apart completely. Carefully he lined himself up with her, his heart in his mouth from anticipation. Gods above… How he had wanted this. So very badly for so very long. Almost half his life, and the moment was here at last.

Darcy swore when he pushed into her. He didn't understand the musical language, but knew it was something spectacular from the way she positively growled it out. There was a moment, a pause as they adjusted to one another. Darcy let out a long exhale, hands traveling the length of his body before settling at the small of his back. “That's different,” she breathed, inches from his lips.

“Good different?”

She nodded. “Very good.” She arched her hips, a request for him to continue.

He took that as permission to keep going, raising his hips before sinking back into her.

Time seemed to behave very differently from that moment. It slowed down in parts, then sped up in others. One second Loki felt like they'd been kissing for eons, the next that it hadn't been even five seconds. He felt like he was drowning in overwhelming warmth and desperate hands and devouring lips. Drowning in Darcy and the sheer bliss of her exquisite body. Darcy. His Darcy. His beautiful Valkyrie. She hooked her legs around his hips as they snapped against her with a new energy, chanting his name almost like a prayer. The word commingled with her deep moans once he slipped a hand between her legs also.

Darcy's mouth found his shoulder and she bit down with unexpected force, causing him to hiss loudly at the sudden addition of pain to his raging torrent of pleasure. It unnerved him just how quickly that sharp bite turned into a burn that he found himself enjoying. That was new.

Loki came like the waves of the ocean crashing down upon a beach, obliterating everything in that moment, even his swirling thoughts. They seemed very distant and blurry, impossible to decipher. When Darcy followed him over the edge mere minutes later and his hips came to a juddering stop, his ears had begun to ring loudly. He rolled off Darcy to save her from being crushed beneath his exhausted form, content with gazing up at the ceiling for now with his breathing ragged and chest heaving.

Slowly but surely, the world came back. Loki turned his head to look at Darcy, only to find that she was already gazing at him. Her face was flushed crimson and small strands of dark hair were stuck within the sweat upon her forehead. Like him, her chest rose rapidly; she smiled, visibly both happy and exhausted. “That was definitely different,” she sighed tiredly.

He couldn't help himself. “Still a good different?”

Darcy nodded. She shuffled close and threw a leg over his hips, snuggling into his chest as she flung an arm over him as well. She closed her eyes and made a noise of contentment. “Very good,” she muttered. When Loki checked on her again, she was already fast asleep, clinging to him tightly as if afraid he'd slip out of the bed and away from her. And he certainly had no plans to do that.

Loki merely raised a hand and waved the curtains closed, the light above them following and plunging them into darkness where the only sound was Darcy's deep and steady breathing. He made a half-assed attempt to call on the covers, but couldn't be bothered in the end, merely hugging Darcy closer and closing his eyes too.

This? This was love. And to be loved.

Chapter Text

Loki came to an hour before dawn. He lay there for a little while in the gloom, gazing up towards the ceiling before glancing to his bedmate; in the night, Darcy had rolled away and onto her side, facing away from him. From her deep and steady breathing, she was dead to the world.

His mouth dry, Loki carefully slipped from between the warm covers and unlocked the door silently.

The house was very dimly lit from the soft grey glow on the horizon, so finding his way through the house was no problem. Eyes still heavy with sleep, he yawned and dragged a hand through his hair. A drink, then he'd return to Darcy. She and her lovely warmth.

Loki pulled a mug from the draining board and turned on the tap, Darcy having specified the previous day which one was for drinking. When suitably filled, he leaned back against the counter and took a long draught. Staring out of the small window above the sink, Lyra's field was empty, the horse safely in her stables. But it wasn't Lyra he was thinking about, but rather the woman fast asleep upstairs.

It had all been… so much better than he'd ever imagined. Darcy's body was a temple to worship at, to lose yourself in. Maybe one day soon, he'd finally convince himself that he was worthy of her. His beautiful Valkyrie.

The kitchen light clicked on overhead, immediately snapping him out of his whimsical and almost pleasantly floating thoughts. Loki next to choked on his water as he met Alina's gaze, her hand still raised to the switch. He next to tossed the mug aside. Her gaze scanned him swiftly and in one movement, she turned the lights back off, a delicate look of disgust on her face.

“You're here one day, and already you're prancing around buck naked?!” she accused in a loud hiss, snatching up a nearby tea towel and flinging it at his chest. He caught and hastily unfurled it and holding the fabric low while embarrassment coursed through him. So wrapped up in his thoughts of Darcy and replaying the previous evening, he'd promptly forgotten that another person other than Darcy resided in the house.

Thank the gods for small mercies that Thor wasn't here to witness this. He'd never hear the last of it.

Ever.

Loki gave an awkward half-laugh. “Ah. Good morning.”

Alina raised an eyebrow. “It was a good morning until about thirty seconds ago! Is this going to be a regular thing? Finding you dressed in your birthday suit in the kitchen?”

“I will nev-”

“Do all Norse gods do this? Does Thor bound around with his hammer out? “

Well… if she wanted the truth… “Actually, he has been known to quite often.”

Alina's eyes narrowed. “Well buddy, this is Midgard. Earth. You keep it under wraps in this house or you'll lose it. And judging by the animalistic din last night, you'd both be rather put out by that.”

“I apologise, Alina. I-”

“Whatever,” Alina interrupted in a clipped tone, promptly turning and leaving without another word. Loki heard her thump up the stairs loudly, each footstep echoing through the silent house.

Well, this was shaping up to be an excellent day indeed.

Loki returned to the bedroom before Alina could berate him even more. He found Darcy half-awake, the bedside lamp on and her eyes bleary from within her mess of hair. “S'going on?” she asked sleepily, blinking up at him. “We under attack?”

He shook his head, tossing the tea towel aside and slipping back beneath the covers and into glorious warmth. “No doubt Alina will tell you all the sordid details later.”

Darcy nodded absentmindedly, still peering at him with her eyes not quite with it just yet. “I don't need to get up yet?”

“No, you don't.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Darcy sighed in relief, shuffling over and proceeding to burrow deep into his chest. “I hate mornings, just so you know. Never try to shake me awake because I keep a dagger beneath my pillow, and I will use it without thinking first.”

He didn't expect anything less from her. Loki pressed a kiss to her temple, eliciting a low and annoyed groan. “Stop,” Darcy complained in a low whine. “I'm tired and exhausted and it's your fault.”

“You weren't complaining last night.” He kissed her cheek too for good measure, making Darcy fling out a hand in an attempt to get him off. She missed by a mile, whining plaintively. Loki rose to the challenge and began placing his lips upon every piece of exposed skin that he could find, chuckling as she went from complaining outright to half hearted bats of her hand.

Finally she raised her hands and caught his face in them, peering up with slightly more alert eyes. “I suppose mornings wouldn't be so bad if they were like this,“ she admitted, her lips finding his for a brief moment.

“No,” he agreed, stealing a kiss himself. “They wouldn't be so bad at all.”

Darcy suddenly cocked her head, staring at his chest. “Is that one of Lyra's feathers?” she asked rather curiously, reaching out and inspecting the shrunk feather closely.

“Yes. It's a charm, I suppose.”

“It is. Really, it is. A Valkyrie's steed possesses its own magic. I don't think it's magic you can use, but it might come in useful.” Darcy's hand slid up his bare hip, settling at his waist. She smiled fondly. “Your hair is everywhere.”

“So is your own.”

Darcy suddenly giggled, eyes fixed upon his shoulder; red teeth marks were clear against the pale of his skin. “I'm sorry for biting you. I didn't mean to. It just… happened in the heat of the moment.”

“Don't be. I liked it.”

“Really?” Darcy enquired, genuinely curious. “You liked me biting you?”

“Truly, I found it incredibly pleasurable. You are a vixen, my love.”

“Well, if I am a vixen, you should have expected to get bitten.” Darcy leaned up, pressing her lips against the angry red mark. From there she moved to his neck, gently nipping at it. “Last night was incredible,” Darcy murmured against his warm skin. “I didn't think it possible to feel as intensely as that. Even now my heart thunders and my body craves more of your touch.”

Loki nuzzled into her hair, breath causing it to flutter gently. “My love, we could spend eternity making love and still it would not be enough. Not for me.”

“Well… how about the rest of the morning?” Darcy suggested innocently, hand splaying upon his waist. “Would that satiate the beast for now?”

“Hmm…” he pretended to muse, eyes glittering with mischief. “It may. Perhaps we should make a start now?” Loki made to get up, but Darcy merely caught his chest and pushed him back down, a smirk slowly spreading across her face.

“Down,” Darcy ordered, hand still upon his chest. “This morning, I am in control. You are mine, Prince.”

Her confident words and commanding tone was going to finish him before she'd even touched him. Already he strained against the covers, seeking some form of friction to ease the deepening ache. The soft fabric gave him nothing. Just frustration.

Perhaps it was clear on his face, for Darcy's smirk seemed to widen. She rose to her knees and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell me how you like to be ridden,” she whispered into his ear.

Now that, he was only too happy to.

They rose an hour later than planned, having been waylaid by another bout of passion once they'd finished showering. Still the sound of Darcy's deep moans echoed in his ears from where he'd taken her from behind over the bathroom sink, then against the tiled wall since the bed seemed too far away in that moment. Gods, he ached all over and his shoulders stung from where Darcy's teeth had found them again. It was like laying with a wild animal.

Alina sat waiting upon the sofa, a scowl upon her face when she looked over the top of her book at the pair. “You're going to be so late,” she stated testily, tossing the book aside. “All because the pair of you are acting like horny teenagers, going against every surface available.”

Utterly taking Loki aback, Darcy snorted loudly and cleared her throat to stifle a laugh. “It's fine! Jane will be there for months studying the Bifrost data. Plus she has Tony Stark assisting, and they're both terrible at sharing. It's not possible that they can decipher that data. It's too advanced.”

“Yeah,” Alina muttered under her breath, “you really don't know Stark.”

Loki snagged his new coat from the back of the sofa. “Who is this man? Stark?”

“A genius,” Alina offered immediately, spots of red rising in her cheeks. “And what Midgard calls a superhero. He flies around in an advanced metal suit, kicking ass.”

“He flies in a… metal suit?” Quite frankly, Loki wasn't surprised that this passed for a hero on Midgard. After all, they had worshipped Thor at one point.

And made him, Loki, the monster.

Darcy merely folded her arms, staring right at her adopted daughter. “You're not coming with us. I have told you this already. Firstly, someone needs to feed Lyra, and another, I am about to tell Jane and Erik what I am. I'll probably have to tell them about Loki also. It's not safe for you this time.”

Alina bristled with anger, rising to her feet to square up to her mother. “I am a Valkyrie also! And I refuse to hide no longer, stuck in this damn house. You spend months traveling with Jane and I am forgotten about.”

A shadow crossed Darcy's face, Loki saw it clear as day. “London, 1975,” she simply stated. “That is why I leave you here.”

“That was-!”

“Enough!” Darcy shouted, silencing the girl immediately. “You're staying here. Next time, Alina. I swear “

Alina laughed bitterly, taking a step back. “That is what you always say, ‘mother.’” Without another word she snatched up her book and fled the room, taking great care to let the door slam shut behind her.

Darcy let out a weary sigh, scrubbing at her cheek with a hand. “She'll understand. She always does. Eventually.”

Loki patted the small of her back comfortingly. “Why not allow her to accompany us?”

“Because…” Darcy groaned loudly, letting her hand drop to her side. “I told her too many tales of the Valkyrie. She can be wild, reckless like your brother was as a young man. All because she wants to prove herself brave, a true Valkyrie.”

Ah, now he understood. “She seems a very capable young woman, Darcy. Perhaps you should have a mite more faith in her to stave off these foolish antics?”

“Not you as well,” Darcy grumbled, zipping up her coat.”No wonder you charmed her over so easily. “

“I was merely making an observation from what I know of Alina. Though I must confess I am curious about what happened in London?”

A moment's pause and Darcy shook her head, eyes dropping to the floor. “Another time. I have had dark times upon Midgard as well as light. Some of those scars you observed were inflicted during my time upon this realm.”

He nodded, though still ridiculously curious. “As you wish.”

After being sat in the metal contraption Darcy called a car for just over an hour, Loki decided flat out that he hated them. For one thing, it made him feel faintly sick. And he hated the small space. Even rolling down the window barely helped.

When they pulled into the city of towering metal, concrete and glass towers that Darcy called New York, Loki found himself staring upwards, his neck beginning to ache after a little while. Humans had really created all this? They truly had evolved from their mud huts and caves, of sacrificing animals and even each other to their pagan gods. This was a species that was changing rapidly indeed. It was strangely unnerving to think of. He voiced this to Darcy who nodded in agreement, pausing before a red light.

“They are forever changing. One hundred years ago, you would not recognise this city. No, the entire world. And one hundred years from now, it will no doubt have changed again. Humans tend to build upwards now, their dwellings reaching for the stars. Actually, they've already figured out space travel. Nothing refined, but they have visited their moon and a little beyond into their system.”

“And there I was thinking them akin to ants,” he laughed under his breath.

The light turned green and they began to move again. “Yeah… don't call them that to their face. They still don't know about the existence of other life forms. They only guess at it and dissect what they think is an alien life form.”

Ah, so they were still primitive at heart. That was good to know. He knew what to expect from them now, and that wasn't much.

Not long after, they pulled into a place full of stationary cars and Darcy parked up, announcing they'd arrived. The first thing Loki saw when he climbed somewhat gracefully from the car was the huge construction before them, towering high into the sky. STARK was clearly emblazoned on it in huge letters.

This fellow definitely had to be compensating for something.

Darcy climbed out, taking a deep and calming breath before also glancing up. “Stay calm,” she said, sounding anything but.

“I am calm.”

“Huh? Oh, I was talking to myself.” Darcy reached up and began to pat at his dark hair, arranging it hurriedly. “Gods, we should have left the window shut. Do I look okay?”

She looked positively ravishing in her emerald green sweater, and he let her know just what he thought. Darcy sighed in relief and locked the car door, grabbing his hand. “Good. Come on, Prince. And remember - no magic or weirdness. They'd love to dissect something as handsome as you.”

They had to go through a series of security desks once inside the tower. Loki said nothing as Darcy cleared them, leading them through one final check where they had to walk through a doorway that detected metal.

Ah.

Perhaps this wasn't the time to be discovered concealing a pair of daggers.

When the machine beeped furiously as he passed through, Loki ignored Darcy's furious eyes and drew out the blades, a glamour upon the pair. The guard inspected the pair of house keys instead and waved him through without a second glance at them.

“Couldn't you have just left them in a pocket dimension?” Darcy asked rather grumpily as they strode through the bustling entrance hall, affixing the two blades disguised as tiny sword charms back upon her hips.”You won't need them here.”

“Yes, well, I've found that dire moments tend to appear when I am unprepared for them.”

Darcy just rolled her eyes in response.

The building was huge inside with high ceilings and even more signs proclaiming the man's name. Judging Stark by the large posters and the like, he didn't seem like much to look at. Compensating for sure. It reminded him of Thor in his youth, so enamoured by his own strength and abilities. If posters had been possible to manufacture in Asgard, they would have encased the entire palace for sure.

After a series of long corridors, two staircases and an elevator ride that Loki detested, they came to a stop before a pair of grey doors. Upon one was a small plastic box with a strip of cardboard in it. “Jane Foster, Astrophysicist” is spelled in neat, handwritten letters. Loki recognised the name as Darcy's friend.

Darcy herself took a deep breath, placing a hand upon the door with the words on. “Here we go.”

She pushed it open.

Chapter Text

Thor woke to the roar of the stars and wings like drumbeats inside his head. His very soul felt uneasy as he sat up, immediately alert.

Something was wrong. No, something was coming. Heading for Asgard like smoke on the wind.

He dressed swiftly in battle garb rather than casual wear, making himself presentable as quick as possible. Mjolnir sparked when he drew it into his hand, spitting almost angrily in a way he had never observed before. Like the very soul of the hammer was as uneasy as its wielder.

A knock sounded upon the door as he reached it. Thor wrenched it open, staring at the guard in golden armour. “The king requests your presence as a master of urgency,” he proclaimed. Thor left immediately for the throne room, the sky outside beginning to give way to the splendour of dawn.

His father wasn't alone. Heimdall and his mother stood there also, the trio deep in conversation. “Father,” he greeted, causing them to turn attention to his approach. “What has happened?”

Odin glanced to the gatekeeper who took a step towards the prince. “As dawn began to stir over Asgard, the very stars themselves seemed to cry out. I cast my gaze towards the source of such outrage and found Valkyrjur.”

Thor made no attempt to disguise his great surprise. “The Valkyrie homeland? What was it, were you able to discover the source of the… wave of power?”

“I do not know the cause, only that the energy source fast approaches Asgard. The Valkyrie have sent no messenger, no warnings or note of any kind. We must prepare ourselves.” The gatekeeper paused, observing the frowning prince through amber eyes. “You have felt it too.”

“Yes,” Thor admitted. Mjolnir was no longer sparking, but it vibrated very gently in his grip almost like a subliminal warning. “Wings crashing at the expanse of space. My heart feels heavy, like a pressure is upon it. “

Odin inclined his head. “I too felt it. I fear that this is a grave omen indeed - it is not your heart this… force scratches at, but your very soul.”

The queen of Asgard placed a hand upon her husband's arm. “Have the Valkyrie been attacked, perhaps? Or is it they themselves that exude this unholy power? I have never felt such a thing.”

Odin rose to his feet, Gungnir in hand. He pondered a reply, then decided against it, turning to Thor. “Son, rouse your companions if they still rest. We must face the possibility of imminent battle. If this truly is the Valkyrie that approach, they will not be long; they need no key for the Bifrost, traveling it's energies on their steeds. Heimdall, return to the Bifrost. Keep it safe.”

As Thor hurried down the golden corridors, his thoughts turned to Loki and his Valkyrie lover. Were these events connected somehow? The Valkyrie had come to call a few times over the years seeking Darcy's location, but the answer Asgard gave the representative of the Order were true, for no one knew where Darcy was. Not even Loki.

Surely this could not be related. Not unless he'd missed something large and important. Why invade Asgard simply to seek the location of a single, solitary Valkyrie who no longer acted like one? Thor himself had observed her new life. It was not one of a fearless warrior.

Only, a voice at the back of Thor's mind told him quietly, Darcy wasn't a normal Valkyrie. In her veins ran the ancient blood of the Commanders, making her the rightful ruler of the Order.

That  was reason enough to hunt her so fervently if you were someone who stood to lose everything if the truth ever escaped.

He met his companions upon Asgard's royal balcony, they being roused by the same roar in their heart. Sif rubbed at her temple with a finger, a slight frown marring her lovely face. Thor understood only too well just how she was feeling.

What unholy magic was this? Loki would have known, Thor thought with a pang. He knew magic, knew its strange signatures. But if Mother, the woman who had taught him his magic didn't know…

Volstagg sighed, tired and frustrated as he shifted his axe from hand to hand distractedly. “Couldn't the Valkyrie have picked another morning to invade? A better one?”

Thor didn't glance around at his companion. “We do not know what or who approaches. It would be very foolish if the Valkyrie have chosen to invade for whatever reason. We have no quarrel with the Order. And furthermore, they carry the honoured dead to Valhalla. That is their holy mandate, stretching back millennia. They are not creatures that seek out war deliberately.” At least, they shouldn't be. The only battles they fought were amongst their own kind, caring little for the control of other realms or amassing foreign power.

Nothing made sense.

The sky flinched above them, a ripple in the vast expanse of space. Then it erupted into a blaze of rainbow light, coalescing into the colossal shape of a winged horse the color of molten night. Upon its back sat a person.

So it was the Valkyrie after all.

No one but the solitary rider appeared, but that still didn't set Thor's heart at ease. Fandral, however, chuckled, his hand leaving the hilt of the blade at his hip. “And there I was expecting the entirety of the Order to appear and block out the sky! A pity.”

Something still didn't feel right. “I will go to my father's side. My friends, remain here and watch the skies. Whoever she is, I do not trust her.”

Odin listened patiently as Thor explained what he'd seen, the size of the horse and its solitary rider. When his son noted that no other Valkyrie had followed, the king's grip upon Gungnir tightened imperceptibly. “Jorma,” he said quietly.

Thor had heard the name before, but couldn't quite recall where. “Who is she?”

“She is the Commander of the Valkyrie. Their Queen for all intents and purposes. I have heard only tales of the woman - her ascension to the mantle of Commander was one of blood and fear.”

Now he knew exactly who she was, and the frightful tales that accompanied her title. “You have never met the woman?”

“In her thousands of years of rule, she has never once left Valkyrjur. I find this very troubling indeed if it truly is her.”

Jorma. That name made even the most hardened warrior look uneasy. Valkyrie's did not elect their leader, but rather proved themselves through battle, in killing the current Commander. Ascension by cold-blooded murder. It never sat well with Thor that such creatures of honour performed such an atrocious act simply for the title. Apart from the meagre information he'd garnered from Darcy herself, Thor knew precious little about Valkyrjur and the Valkyrie themselves. They were secretive, aloof and proud. Valkyrjur was closed to those with no Valkyrie blood under pain of death. Even his father had been denied access. A war could be raging within the realm and they would never know.

Commander Jorma touched her steed down before the throne room, hooves clattering about the courtyard as she dismounted gracefully. The horse was by far the largest Valkyrie beast Thor had ever seen, at least double the size of Darcy's pure white Lyra. It exuded an unfriendly air, eyes as shiny and black as its coat.

The Commander herself was the very same, tall and built of powerful lines. Two swords hung at her hips and two more were strapped across her back. Unlike Darcy's armour of black with gold accents, Jorma's were pure white like freshly fallen snow, her own accents a dark and rusty red like blood.

She was beautiful, as the Valkyrie usually were; her hair, pulled away from her proud and unlined face, fell in a golden cascade down her back. And there was a confident swagger to her walk, the sway of her hips.

Thor didn't expect the Commander of the Valkyrie to seem so very… young. Like a maiden of Asgard, almost. She seemed innocent but for the hard set to her dark eyes. Jorma had been on her throne since before Odin was on his, and yet she seemed as fresh as the morning dew.

She made Thor's skin crawl.

The Valkyrie Commander bowed low before Asgard's king. “King Odin of Asgard,” she greeted in a very soft and gentle tone. “We meet at long last.”

“Commander Jorma,” Odin greeted in a neutral tone, “the pleasure is mine. What brings you to Asgard and its golden halls after all these years?”

Jorma straightened up. She didn't so much as blink, face still a mask of calm. “I come seeking what my daughters have - the location of the Valkyrie Darcae. “

Odin paused as if pondering her words. “My answer has not changed since the Order's last visit, I'm afraid.”

A flash of anger sparked in the great woman's eyes. “Liar,” she whispered. “I can feel the deception in your very soul, and in the young soul of your son.”

Thor watched his father carefully, observing the slight way his gaze hardened. “You are mistaken, mighty Valkyrie.”

At that moment, Thor spoke. “She left us long ago, Commander Jorma.”

The woman's sharp eyes scanned the throne room, flickering from face to face, carefully taking in each one. Finally, she looked back to the king. “Where is the Awakened one? The youngest prince of Asgard? I did sorely wish to meet the young man, to observe his cracked soul and twisted vessel. It has been a very long time indeed since a true Awakening was performed.”

Was that what Darcy had done, Thor wondered. The time she had placed Loki's soul back into his body? What was it to be… Awakened?

His skin began to crawl once again as his father replied. “My son left long ago, as did the Valkyrie who returned him to life.”

“Left for where, may I ask? To follow his lover? The Valkyrie I seek?”

“I would not know - he was acting regent and left very suddenly when I awakened to resume my position as king. I do not know exactly where he is.”

The Commander simply smirked, tilting her head at the old king. “A half truth, now? Very clever. I can taste the deceit, old man. Foul and decaying upon your dark soul. I urge you to divulge the truth, for the good of Asgard may depend upon it. “

Odin rose to his feet, tall and imperious in that moment. Thor placed a hand upon Mjolnir’s handle. “Is that a threat, Commander Jorma?” the prince growled lowly.

She looked to Thor, an expression of great disinterest upon her face at his readiness for battle. “Of course not, Prince Thor. Merely a friendly warning of what may come.”

“It didn't sound friendly, Commander.”

The impetuous smirk returned. “Darcae is a threat. To Valkyrjur, and therefore to Asgard and all its realms.”

“How so?” Thor demanded angrily. Darcy was a good person! How dare this woman? Darcy was honourable, caring and brave to a fault.

“Valkyrjur is in turmoil, and has been since tales of Darcae's feat of Awakening the young prince. Half the Valkyrie care not for the archaic ways of the old and ancient Commanders chosen by possessing the blood of the original trio, but those that do begin to defy me in their droves. They refuse their mandate, to ferry the souls of the nine realms until I step down and Darcae replaces me, as they believe she should. As is proper .”

The Commander took a delicate breath. “Darcae has known of her ancient heritage since she was a young woman. She has never sought the mantle, or desired it in the slightest. I seek Darcae to quell the rising tide, to restore peace to Valkyrjur by renouncing her blood permanently. To ensure that our mandate to the honoured dead continues without disruption. Darcae need not fear us for her act of Awakening - if she succeeds in ending this… civil war, she will be pardoned and free to leave. I am a generous woman, King Odin. I only fear for the Valkyrie and the souls of the honoured dead. As a Commander should.”

A pretty speech, but Thor was far from fooled; this Commander sought Darcy out for one reason, and it wasn't to have her return to Valkyrjur and play politics. It was to murder her. Without their figurehead, what could those causing dissent rally around? There would be no reason to rise up if their cause was no more.

His father thought the very same. “Very troubling indeed, but I am afraid that I do not know where Darcae is at this moment.”

The woman stared almost incredulously for a moment, then scoffed in disbelief. “You refuse? Truly?”

“I do not refuse. It is my regret that Asgard cannot help you at this moment in time, Commander Jorma.”

Thor inclined his head, heart raging with fury towards the woman. “A pleasure, Commander.” It wasn't. It really, truly wasn't.

She stared at the king for a long moment with eyes of hate, then sank into a bow and promptly strode from the room without another word or glance back. When the horse and its rider vanished into the morning sky with a dull explosion, Thor let out a roar of fury towards the spot where they'd vanished. “Witch!” he hissed, turning to his father. “We must send word to Darcy and Loki with all haste.”

“No,” Odin remarked calmly. “We shall not get involved with this.”

“Not-?! She seeks to kill Darcy, Father! She is a woman with murder on her mind! Have you not heard the tales of the bitch?”

“Darcy is not Asgard's problem. Not now. I owed her greatly for stopping Loki and taking him to Midgard to keep him safe and watch him. I have repaid her in this moment by claiming that I do not know of her or Loki's location. I will do no more to protect her now. I cannot, for the sake of Asgard and its souls. We cannot afford to offend Valkyrjur; they serve us faithfully, guarding Valhalla and guiding our people into peace.”

Thor let Mjolnir fall to the marble floor with an echoing crash. “And Loki? Will he thank you if his Valkyrie, the woman he loves, is slaughtered right before his eyes?”

“Loki is… an exile. Banished from Asgard. His life is not my concern now, no matter how much it pains me to say.”

“He is your son!” Thor bellowed, advancing on his father. “And if Darcy falls, so will he! Do you really expect him not to fight? Your inaction will be akin to ordering his execution yourself!”

The staff came down in a loud and resounding bang, silencing the prince's furious tirade. “I have nothing more to add, Thor. This is all that Asgard can afford to do for them both. From now on, they are alone in this battle. Do you understand me, Thor?”

“I-”

“Do you understand me, Thor?”

“Yes Father.” He said it, but very reluctantly.

The second he was out of his father's earshot, Thor's fist found a stone pillar, leaving a deep crack within it. He let out an exhale, leaning against the pillar beside it.

Darcy and Loki had no idea what sought them so fervently. How long would it be until the insane woman realised what realm they were on? And after that, exactly where on Midgard they were? There would be no warning, the attack swift and sudden. Only a precious few knew where Loki was, the sad news of his banishment kept quiet.

He had to warn them. Didn't he owe the pair that? And Loki? He was his brother. He always would be, no matter the color of his blood or skin. No matter the man's heritage. He'd treated his younger brother so abominably during their youth…

Oh how Thor regretted it. Regretted the actions of the young fool he'd been, so quick to mock and anger and seek out war. To harm his brother without care. It had to change.

He had to change.

A thought suddenly crossed Thor's mind; Heimdall would refuse him passage down to Midgard on his king's orders. But what if he got there before the order was given?

Was there time? He had to try.

Thor bade no one goodbye as he turned and made for the rainbow bridge, throwing himself from the balcony to cut corridors and save an inordinate amount of time. If his father chose to banish him along with his brother, then fine. So be it. At least he could remain there and fight the Valkyrie that came for Loki and Darcy's head.

He owed the pair too much to think of his own punishment.

Heimdall stood there, the colossal blade already set into the key, ready to be activated. “I suggest you move swiftly,” was his greeting, stepping over to the blade. “In mere minutes the order to close the Bifrost to you and your companions will arrive and I will have no choice but to refuse you travel to Midgard.”

Thor, panting slightly from the speed in which he'd traveled, nodded. “Drop me where you did Loki and Darcy. I must find them as soon as possible and convey the warning. Tell my father I'm sorry, but I must do this. I owe them both too much. I cannot watch from afar as they are slaughtered and Asgard turns a blind eye.”

The gatekeeper nodded, raising his hands towards the blade. “As you wish. Good luck and farewell, Prince Thor. Protect the Lady Darcae. She is more important than even she realises.”

The blade twisted sharply, the Bifrost burst into life, and Asgard was gone.