Darkness There, and Nothing... CH. 15 - I've Just Seen a Face

Chapter Fifteen

I've Just Seen a Face

.

.

He'd been a fool to suggest this, Loki realized as Thea stepped closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. They had waltzed, done other Midgardian dances she'd learned over the course of her life and taught the Asgardian prince in mere moments thanks to her gift. In the same way, he'd taught her many of the dances of the Æsir. But now they were engaged in something called "a slow dance."

Loki called it torture. With the music humming softly from nowhere, the amber light gilding everything, it was nothing but a new form of torment. He didn't wish to examine too closely why he felt that way.

"Thank you for this," Thea whispered. Her head was a soft weight on his shoulder; her hand lay like a caught butterfly in his. He could feel her breath, warm and shushing against his neck. "I love slow dancing."

"You're welcome," the prince murmured. The fragrance of althea, the flower for which she'd been named, was sweet on her hair. He pressed his jaw lightly against her temple. Tension thrummed through his body at her nearness. He could almost taste the warmth of her. If he bent his head just a little at just the right angle, he could press his lips against her skin, as she had done a little more than a month ago. "It was simple enough, and it made you happy, did it not?"

Thea laughed softly. "You're just…I love you, Loki. You're perfect."

Three quick, electric pulses shot through his chest at her words. He swallowed the strange, excruciating pleasure the words sent lancing through him and offered a weak chuckle. "Hardly perfect, but thank you. It is nice to know someone thinks so highly of me." For some reason, she sighed, a deep breath that expelled like a whisper of sorrow from her lips. Loki frowned. "What's wrong, Thea?"

She made a small "hmmm" noise. Lifting her head from his shoulder—it felt oddly cold without that warm weight—she looked up at him, blue-gray eyes shadowed. "Well…see, the thing is, I was just thinking about how…how I did something dumb. Really dumb."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

She nodded. "Yeah, and see…I don't normally do this kind of dumb thing. I don't normally do dumb things, period. I'm like, walking perfection; perfection doesn’t do dumb. But my aura of numinous awesome slipped just a notch and I did something super-stupid."

"What did you do?"

"I messed up something really great that I have with this guy that I like." She dropped her gaze to the bowtie around his neck, as if she couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes anymore. "He's just…we were great friends. At least I thought we were. But I messed things up and if he ever finds out, it will ruin everything. We won't be friends anymore because everything will be so awkward since he doesn't feel the same way about me. You know?" Thea bit her lip as Loki's heart knifed sideways in his chest.

He doesn't feel the same way about me…Somehow he managed to swallow the lump that had inexplicably lodged in his throat. She was talking about Phil, of course. The family friend she loved…she was in love with him. Of course she was. Thea loved so many people. Her heart was vast. And the way she spoke of him…of course she was in love with Phil.

Clearing his throat, he asked, "How do you know he does not share your feelings?"

She shrugged. "He's a bit distant when we're in close quarters. I mean, we do all sorts of things together, have fun and stuff, but he doesn’t…he just doesn’t give off the love-me vibe. He had a rough life, so maybe that’s it. I adore him to pieces—like, love him into confetti bits with sparkles and crystal-sprinkles and exploding cake and everything—but I think he thinks of me more as a kid. You know, a great friend, but that's it. I don't think he realizes how much I…how much I care about him."

"Then he is a fool," Loki managed to mutter. "Whoever he is." As if he didn’t know who she meant. When Thea just looked at him, he shrugged. "There is much of the child in you, of course—it is part of your charm, and one of the things I adore about you—but you are no child, Althea. Anyone who saw you now would know you are a woman. You deserve to be treated as such by a man you care for."

A smile tugged at her lips, which gleamed under the glittering golden ambience of the chandelier overhead. "A fool, huh?"

Loki nodded. He wanted to find Phil and deliver the thrashing the mortal idiot so richly deserved for making Thea feel, even for a moment, unworthy of his attentions. What did a mere mortal know of her charm, her sweetness, her kindness? What did a mortal know of—

"I don't think you're a fool, Loki," Thea said gently, yanking him from his growing irritation with Phil. "I think you're pretty smart…most of the time."

He frowned. "Thank you, I think…" His eyes snapped wide as he stared down at her, every word she'd just uttered crashing around inside his skull, shattering his thoughts and stealing his voice. His treacherous heart lurched toward her in his breast. Something icy and cold, something that lanced like a knife, something that tasted a bit like fear, throbbed through him as her meaning clarified in his mind. He shook his head. "Thea…Thea, you do not mean…"

Extricating herself from him, she dropped her eyes to the floor. "Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Sorry. That was dumb of me to say. I mean, it's true, you're smart. Really smart. I just…I shouldn't have said…I'm sorry." She turned, ready to flee.

No. No, he couldn’t let her leave. Not when she…not when he…

His hand shot out and gripped her fragile wrist. Her skin was exquisitely soft beneath his fingers as she turned back to him, wide-eyed and trembling, fearful as a doe caught in a hunter's sights. Loki stared at her, unable to tear his gaze away. Her chin quavered. Wetness gleamed in her eyes, turning them to liquid sapphires.

Carefully, as if handling something infinitely precious, Loki drew her back to him.

"Thea…" Her name felt strange on his tongue, like the words to a song. He could feel the warmth emanating from her skin as he pulled her close. The sweet scent of her perfume taunted him. "Thea…you cannot mean…you cannot—"

"I love you," she blurted, then clapped a hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut as color flooded her face, turning her cheeks a charming shade of pink. "Crap. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I'm like a wide-mouthed frog, for crying out loud. Where's a snake when I need one? Someone just tie me up with duct tape and leave me to be abducted by genetically enhanced alien-robots operated by brain-squids, please. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just…now everything's ruined because it'll be totally awkward, I'm sorry. I just need to go die in a ditch now. I'll just take my jelly beans and go die. Thank you for a wonderful evening, but I need to put myself out of my misery before—"

Loki kissed her.

Her lips were shockingly soft beneath his. She gasped at the sudden contact, then melted into his arms with a sigh. He pulled her tight to him; his hands glided over the smooth silk of her dress as they settled at her waist, curving around the delicate edges of her hips. His skin thrilled at her touch when her slim hands brushed along the sides of his neck before settling again his jaw, her fingers tunneling into his hair. Gently, gently, he moved his mouth over hers, exploring the sweetness of her mouth. Heat sliced through him, a tangible fire sweeping through his veins as Thea's lips molded to his, as their breath mingled, as she pressed close to him. Loki felt almost as if he were drowning in the heady sensations of softness, sweetness, warmth, perfection.

When he pulled back just a breath to gauge her reaction, she blinked at him a bit dazedly. A thrill of fresh heat shuddered through him at the glassy-eyed look of wonder on her face. She swallowed hard and whispered, "Loki…"

"Thea," he whispered, needing to know, needing to be certain, "Thea, if you do not want this, then—"

"Ohmigawd, you paranoid schizophrenic, just shut up and kiss me," she ordered, and drew him back to her for another kiss.

.

"Loki…" Thor didn’t want to shatter the brief shade of happiness that had swept across his brother's face…but something had to be said. "She was another man's wife. You kissed another man's wife."

His brother sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose as if to ward off a headache. "Brother, your powers of deductive reasoning astound me."

The crown prince narrowed his eyes. "I have listened to everything you have told me, I needn't stand for your mock—"

"If you don't believe me," Loki snapped, "then why not search for proof? Hmmm?" His gaze turned caustic when he opened his eyes to glare at his foster brother. "Speak to Heimdall."

"Heimdall cannot even glimpse the Chitauri. You know that."

Loki sighed again. "One hopes, Brother, that the All-Father is a bit more creative than you are. He has already considered ways to discover if what I say is true or not."

Thor shook his head. "It isn't a question of belief, Brother. I believe you. But half the time you speak in riddles and will not give me straight answers. Such as with Coulson. Why do you constantly dance around the fact that you killed him? You refuse to admit to it; why?"

Green eyes narrowed as Loki considered his elder brother. Thor raised an eyebrow. Why was Loki looking at him that way? As if trying to gauge whether Thor was ready for something of extreme importance?

"Why do I 'dance around' it,' as you say?" Loki's voice softened and he braced his body as if he expected Thor to…almost as if he expected Thor to hit him. "I will tell you, then, since you wish to know, but if you berate me for the truth, do not expect it to be given to you again." When the crown prince nodded, Loki sighed. "I will tell you why I refuse to admit to killing him—because I didn't."

Several heartbeats of silence passed before Thor said too softly, "I saw you murder him."

"Are you certain you saw what you thought you saw?"

"I watched you stab him through the heart with the Chitauri staff. You killed him. I saw you."

Loki looked him dead in the eyes and said, "No. You didn't."

"So you are telling me…what? That Coulson is still alive?" Thor demanded.

"No," his brother replied softly. "No, Coulson is dead…but I was not the one who killed him. Now go away. I have given you enough of my soul for today, I think."

"Loki—"

"I will say no more," he growled. "Begone."

.

Upon leaving the dungeons, the crown prince was summoned to the king's informal receiving room. To Thor's surprise, both Heimdall and Víðarr were there, as well as the king and queen. Odin bade them all sit down. Surreptitiously, Thor glanced at his younger brother.

Out of all of them, Víðarr was the most like Loki in personality, though Tyr inexplicably looked a great deal like the fostered prince. Víðarr was built like Thor—a veritable grizzly bear—but with Loki's charm and quick, clever tricks. Unlike Loki, he had Balder and Hermod's good-natured ability to laugh at everyone and everything, including himself. The only one of Frigga's sons to bear the same bronze tresses, he was also the only of the royal family in anything resembling a good mood these days—thanks to his beautiful, new, young wife. Like Frigga, however, Víðarr wore somber clothes these days, to show his sorrow for his foster brother.

"The queen and I have counseled together today, and we have come to a decision," Odin informed his two sons and the Asgardian Gatekeeper. "We require proof of the existence of a Midgardian woman—"

"Althea?" Víðarr interjected. "Bellalyse has heard the servants talking about her. Loki's lover, wasn't she?"

"We aren't sure who she was," Odin replied. "We must find out." He fixed his single blue eye on his sons. "This will be your task, my sons. Víðarr, you are perhaps best suited to discovering all that needs to be learned, and you are also the most objective of your brothers. You must go to Midgard and speak to the mortal Nicholas Fury and one other, a man known as Charles Xavier, and learn of the woman called Althea. We must learn if Loki speaks the truth."

Thor said, "Father, I can go—"

But Odin shook his head. "No. You must remain here in Asgard, to coax the rest of the story from Loki. Besides, your brother's innate magical abilities enable him to better handle travel via the byways of the tesseract."

Víðarr's dark brown eyes met Thor's blue gaze, and the brothers nodded to each other. Out of all of his brothers, Thor knew Víðarr could be trusted with this. Unlike Tyr, who resented Loki becoming king during Thor's exile, and unlike Balder and Hermod, who had always looked up to Loki and felt his betrayal so keenly, there was no real bad blood between Víðarr and Loki. Turning to regard his father, Víðarr asked, "Where am I to start, Father?"

The king of Asgard gestured to Heimdall. "Gatekeeper, where is the place my son spoke of, this…institute?"

"Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters," Heimdall replied in his deep, rolling voice. "I can direct the tesseract to lead you as close to the school as possible, but there is a shield around it of some sort. I cannot penetrate it, and so can neither hear nor see what goes on within the grounds of the school. Some seiðr shields the place."

Thor's brows rose toward his hairline. "Seiðr? Asgardian magic?"

Heimdall shook his head. "I cannot quite define this magic. It is not Asgardian…but it is not mortal, either. It is similar to Loki's Jötunn power, but it is not his. That is all I can tell you—that, and that this seiðr is very powerful. Almost recklessly so, as if it is not even being controlled."

Víðarr nodded. "I see. Well, allow me to prepare, Father, and I will be off as soon as I may."

"You must take care, little brother," Thor said. "Midgard is dangerous. You must be especially wary of the horseless chariots they drive known as cars."

His younger brother snorted. "Heimdall told me how you were struck by such a chariot twice during your exile. Very well done, Brother. Your vigilance made our father proud. But have no fear—I know how to look where I'm going."

A slow grin spread over Thor's face. "Brother…you should know better than to challenge me. You have never bested me in combat."

"There is a first time for everything, Thor."

"With those puny arms?" He scoffed, grinning wider. "Please, Brother, no more jests. You will only make yourself look more foolish when I best you yet again."

"If that's how you feel, then by all means—"

"Boys," Frigga said softly, and the two princes snapped to attention, focusing on their mother. "That is enough of that, thank you."

"Yes, Mother," Víðarr murmured.

"My apologies, Mother," Thor said…but when Víðarr caught his eye, Thor couldn’t push back his grin. Before Víðarr left for Midgard, he and Thor would have a wrestling match. They would simply have to do it out of their mother's hearing.

.

Víðarr left that evening, after the wrestling match, and the next morning Thor returned to Loki's cell. But Loki would not speak. Thor wondered if his brother had spent an entirely sleepless night thinking of that moment when he'd first kissed Thea. His little brother's gaze was bloodshot. Dark shadows marred the skin beneath his eyes. His fingernails had been chewed to the quick and then gnawed bloody; Thor remembered that in his childhood, Loki had bitten his nails whenever sorely distressed by something. Raw scrapes reddened Loki's pale knuckles.

For the next week, Loki did not speak to Thor, though his brother returned every day to demand an explanation for what he'd said regarding not having killed Coulson. When those demands made no dent in Loki's brittle silence, Thor would ask about Thea and Sophie, but still his brother didn't speak.

A second week went by, and a third, and a fourth. Heimdall reported that Víðarr had likely made contact with the man known as Professor Charles Xavier, since the prince had been allowed to enter the school grounds by a red-haired man wearing spectacles with black lenses and a beast-like man wild black hair, a leather Midgardian coat, and feral eyes.

But Víðarr didn’t leave the school in order to return to Asgard and make his report. After yet two more weeks, Heimdall reported that Charles Xavier was in another location, also shielded by that strange seiðr. The only reason the Gatekeeper had even learned of this was because he'd seen Xavier rolling down the streets of another Midgardian city in his wheeled chair, arriving at a park to play a game of chess with another man. Heimdall hadn’t recognized this second man, but had noted the blue numbers tattooed into his right forearm.

At last, after another week, Xavier returned to the magic-shrouded school. Heimdall reported to the king that after three days in the professor's company, Prince Víðarr was taken to speak to the one-eyed Midgardian warrior known as Nicholas Fury.

He returned home the next day. Welcomes by brothers, parents, and wife, Víðarr spoke nothing of what he'd learned on his journey until late that evening, when it was only himself, the king and queen, and Thor to hear his words.

"Xavier says there was a girl fitting Althea's description who arrived at his school as a young girl more than two decades ago with her mother, brother, and sister. She attended school there, graduated, and became a tutor. Then on a trip with her family a little more than two years ago, she disappeared. Everything Loki said in that regard is true," Víðarr explained. "I sensed there was more, but Xavier did not offer it. I was watched closely by two warriors, a man known as Scott Summers and a savage warrior they referred to as 'Wolverine.' Claimed he was a teacher of the arts. I would have pressed Xavier for more information, but my instincts told me to hold back for the time being.

"After I finished my business with Xavier, I was taken to a Midgardian park, where I met with the SHIELD leader, Nicholas Fury. We spoke of the son of Coul. He was not married," Víðarr added to Thor, locking eyes with him. "And never had been. There was a woman he was courting, however—you were correct about that. A woman, but they would not tell me where she lived. She's alive, however. They made that clear. And just like Xavier, it felt as if this Fury were holding back information, but when I pressed him, he neatly evaded answering my questions. I learned as much as I could—and I made a point to look in on your mortal, Brother," he added with a wink to the crown prince. "She is doing well. As you asked, I didn’t make my presence known to her. I returned home quickly after that."

Not married, Thor thought as confusion spread through him. Not married, and never had been. Then…then who was Thea's husband? And Sophie's father? Loki had sworn by the Norns that he'd sired no half-mortal children. One did not break such an oath—ever. To foreswear that oath always led to deathly consequences. So what was going on?

And what, the crown prince wondered, were Fury and this Xavier holding back?

.

It was in the second week after Víðarr's return that Loki finally roused to Thor's demands and spoke to him about Thea again.

“Fury says Coulson never married,” Thor told his brother.

Loki raised a sardonic eyebrow. “I never said he was Thea’s husband.” He lay on his cot, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes flicked all over, and Thor was reminded of how Loki would often lie on his back in the grass as a boy to look at the stars. Yet there were no stars here. What was Loki looking at, then? And that strange electric blue had returned to his gaze, though it flickered back and forth, battling with the green.

“You may as well have.”

“No.” Loki held up a finger. “You took my words and twisted them, jumping to conclusions as you so often do. That is not my fault. I never said Coulson was her husband. In fact, I said the man you knew wasn’t her husband. You simply weren’t listening. You so rarely pay attention.”

“Then who was he to her?” Thor demanded. “Tell me. What was their connection?”

Loki sighed. “You know their connection. You’ve simply forgotten.”

The crown prince bit back a growl. “Why must you be so difficult? Can’t you simply tell me the truth? Give me straight answers? Why must you play word games?”

His foster brother didn’t speak for a long moment. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He opened his eyes at last and glanced at Thor. The prince was surprised to see that the blue had almost completely vanished. Loki murmured, “We kissed often after that first night," which the crown prince hadn’t been expecting. "Always her lips were soft and sweet. Always she welcomed my kiss. I had never had that before."

Thor frowned, thrown by the abrupt change in topic. He knew better than to press Loki now, however; that would only destroy any chance the Asgardian had of learning anything from the disguised Frost Giant. "You've had your fair share of women over the centuries," Thor said.

Loki shook his head. "Not like this. The women I've enjoyed always wanted the prestige of bedding a prince, or knowing a prince's affection and regard. The women I tried courting for themselves never wanted me. None of them would have aught to do with me. It was only the lickspittle wenches who welcomed me. But not Thea, and after four months of kisses and embraces and her love like a guiding light in the dark…then came that second fateful night, when death and fear chased at our heels, and we thought we could cheat our enemies, our fears, the darkness of our lives, by holding tight to each other…"

.

Loki had learned something from being with Thea—that each kiss, when done properly, felt and tasted different. Her light, quick kiss in the morning, beyond the boundaries of illusion, always sent sparks tingling along his skin. He would find himself, no matter how stiff or hungry or exhausted, returning that kiss with eagerness. And in their little world of mirages and memories, Thea's kisses tasted of ocean spray on the beach, ice cream melting on the tongue, stardust under the night sky, fresh wind caressing his face. Her arms around him were like a golden cage he never wanted to escape.

When they leapt from the cliffs to plummet into the sea, he couldn’t decide which was best—clasping her hand as the wind whipped by them; the way she would throw her arms around him and yell “Booyacashah!” as she half-bounced, half-tread in the water after breaking the surface; or the salt-sweetness of her kiss while she clung to him in the warm ocean waters, while the waves tangled her long hair around him like a rhinemaiden’s tresses and her lips moved softly beneath his. In those moments it was all he could do not to clasp her tightly and try to lose himself in her touch, her embrace. The darkness hounded him, and she offered the respite he craved.

When she read to him from the library of her memory beneath the leafy boughs of the trees, with the sweet scent of grass in his nose and sunlight warm on his face, he would steal more kisses between words. Every touch of her lips, every tender caress, dragged him further and further into her net…and Loki realized that not only didn't he care, but he actually craved the growing connection between them. A thousand different threads were slowly weaving the two of them closer, knotting them together, inextricably binding them.

And he didn’t care. He wanted it. He wanted more.

One night, Loki gazed up at a thousand stars as he lay on the grass in Thea’s world of illusions and dreams, one arm behind his head for a pillow. His other arm curled tight around Thea's shoulders as she rested her head on his chest. Loki was careful to keep a few inches separating their bodies save where her head touched his chest. His skin seemed almost to glow where she touched him, and he couldn’t stop himself from yearning toward that contact.

All this time, with nothing but pain from all quarters but this…only gentleness from her. He loved her for that gentleness. He loved her, and because he loved her, a thought and a question had both been slowly emerging from the recesses of his mind for what felt like a thousand years, and it prevented him from doing anything to in any way dishonor Thea. He wanted…wanted so much to ask her…

The question hung on the tip of his tongue, beating against his pursed lips to be set free so that even in the darkness of their lives as prisoners, he could know some semblance of true happiness…but there was a specter looming between them. One he could not dismiss.

Phil. Thea claimed to love the pseudo-Æsir, but she also claimed to love Phil. Phil, whom she had known for so long, who was "romantic" and clearly cared for her. What about him?

That lone ghost was all that stood in the way of the question ripening in Loki's mouth like sweet fruit.

Thea sighed and nuzzled her cheek against the thin linen shirt he wore. The warm, fresh spring air she'd created felt lovely after the stuffy confines of his cell. He always missed the little breezes that often wafted through their world of mirages when he returned to the dank pit of his prison.

"Thea," Loki ventured into the starlit darkness.

"Hmmm?" She sounded half-asleep, but Loki knew better. When her concentration wavered—as it rarely did—lines of darkness and nothing spread across the world of her imagination, smothering the illusions she made.

Loki cleared his throat. "If we ever make it to Midgard…what will you tell Phil about me?"

Her shoulder nudged his upper ribcage when she shrugged. "I don’t know."

"Aren't you worried about it?"

"No," she replied carelessly. "He'll like you."

"Are you certain of that?" Loki asked. "After I stole you away from him and—"

She propped herself up on one elbow, staring down at him, clearly baffled. "Stole me from him? You didn't…oh." Her eyes widened. The stars were bright enough that he could actually see her expression, as if by dim lamplight. "Oh. Oh! Ew!' She flopped back on the grass and flailed her arms and legs—carefully, lest she hit him by accident. Her pale blue t-shirt and skirt showed starkly against the night-darkened grass. "Oh, ew, ew! You thought…ew! Icky!"

Loki frowned. "What? What did I say?" He realized she was laughing while exclaiming over whatever was so "icky," and his frown eased into a smile…but what was she complaining about?

Thea rolled onto her stomach and propped her chin on her hands. "That's icky, that you thought me and Phil…oh, ugh. He's like, more than fifteen years older than me. And he looks it. Ew. He's like my dad, for crying out loud. Plus there's the fact that he's dating my mom. I realize I'm the greatest thing since the invention of chicken-and-pineapple pizza, but even I don't poach my mom's guys. Ew."

His eyes widened. "Your…your mother? He's courting your mother?"

"Yeah. They've been dating for…jeez, since I was nine, I think. I remember their first date because he brought me and my mom and Joie and Cleo flowers. They've been together forever. He even flies out to Portland every so often to see her concerts and stuff. They would've gotten married already, but my mom went through a seriously messy divorce when she ditched the Super Douche, because of the mutant rights involved and whatever, so she's kind of dragging her feet about making it to the altar again. I hope she marries him, though," Thea added, looking wistful. "We all love him. My whole family." Then she glanced at Loki and giggled. "You seriously thought I would date Phil? Blegh. For one thing, he's like my dad. For another, I'm dead-stupid-in-love with you."

Golden warmth flooded his body at her casual admission. It still made his thoughts stumble a little when she would say things like that, about loving him. And she could see it, he knew she could. See his struggle to believe. She loved him. It seemed so impossible.

He'd told her once about the women he'd tried to court over the centuries. There was Glut, she with hair like winter fire and eyes of soft, tawny gold. She'd had the gift for fire seiðr, and had taught him many of the fire-spells he'd learned in his childhood. But she had laughed at him when he'd confessed his feelings and told him he was "a sweet boy." It had been utterly humiliating.

Thea had told him she would've doused Glut—whose name meant "glow"—with a bucket of cold water and then dropped her down a well to see how brightly she could glow in the dark.

There had been Angbodr, a plain girl teased as being of Frost Giant blood because of her looks and pale skin and grayish-black hair. She'd been beautiful, too—elegance and grace, with such lovely ice-blue eyes. When Loki had seen her for the first time, he'd nearly tripped over his own feet. He still didn't understand why his brothers had found her homely. To him, she had been like a snow goddess. But when he'd tried to woo her with poetry and flowers, she'd shoved him away, spurning him and calling him too plain to suit her.

Thea had told him she would've hog-tied Angbodr with red yarn and dangled her from a tree to play Piñata with, using snowballs instead of a stick. Then she'd had to teach Loki how to play Piñata because he hadn’t understood what she meant.

And of course, there had been Sif. He'd loved Sif once upon a time. Even now, he still cared for her. She was his friend…or had been. His brother's friend, surely, and one of Thor's staunchest allies. He'd seen her dark beauty and been instantly smitten. All lithe grace, feral beauty, with the razor edge of a warrior maiden…but she had been in love with Thor. Loki had known that from the start. That hadn't stopped him from being in love with her for several years, or from trying to comfort her when Thor had hurt her. After he'd told Thea about Sif's slap, she had said flat out that she hated Sif with the fiery passion of ten million suns.

And now he had Althea. The first woman to ever want him. Not his title, not his social standing among the court as Odin's third son, not his tainted prestige as a magic-user, but simply him. And if not for the cold stone walls of his prison, he would have been happy with her, no matter where they were. There was only one thing…

He was glad that Phil wasn't Thea's suitor. She spoke so highly of him, and Loki respected what he knew of the mortal warrior. It would have been a painful thing, to ask what he wished of Thea while having to be concerned about the son of Coul.

Loki took a breath. He could ask his question now with a clear conscience. He had to know…and he had the means of bringing it all to fruition. He simply needed her answer first.

"Thea…are you…when we get to Midgard, what do you wish to do?"

"Eat a really big sundae with whipped cream, broken bits of waffle and yellow cake and brownie, cherries and strawberries, rainbow sprinkles, and strawberry sauce. I will seriously just bury my face in it and absorb it through osmosis, I want it so bad. I’ll suck sugar in through my eyeballs."

Chuckling, he said, "I meant after you gorge yourself on sweets."

"Run a marathon around the world so I don't get fat from pigging out like a hungry, hungry hippo," she replied promptly, smiling. "And when I was done, I'd hug my family and then I'd drag you off to Vegas."

He frowned. "What is…Vegas?"

"It's where people who are broke go to get married," she said. "Which is why I'd take you there. We're destined for each other. You know it, I know it, it's fate. And if it's not fate, then I'll steal the cosmic chalk and write it on the cosmic chalkboard of life and then it will be fate. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, magical-country-in-the-wardrobe fate-stuff, just like in the fairy tales. So there. You're mine. The end. Go ahead and feel all kinds of lucky. You know you want this." She threw her arms out wide as if to bask in his amused gaze. "I'm just too precious to resist ever. It's like a magnet. A smexy, smexy, but incredibly cute magnet. With a face. And toes." She lifted her feet to wiggle her toes; her toenails had each been painted a different color. “Are my toes not the most incredible things ever to be invented? Look at my pedicure. Monet is jealous of me. He’s turning over in his grave.”

"Thea," he said, laughing a little but feeling as if his stomach was attempting to crawl up into his throat, "if you mean that…if you truly, honestly mean that…then will you…will you marry me?"

She grinned. "Well, duh. I just said I would. Why? You wanna run away and elope in Scotland like in Pride and Prejudice? That would be kind of fun. Except there's sheep everywhere. I love sheep, lambies are so cute, but…I dunno. Can you imagine? The preacher asks anyone if they object to us getting married and you hear this, 'Baaa.' It's like, 'Well, forget you, sheep. Who invited you, anyway?' Awkward."

"I mean now," Loki said softly, and her smile died away. "Right now. Tonight."

Thea blinked at him. "Say what?"

"Will you marry me tonight?" He watched her eyes widen. So he took a breath and took a plunge into terrifyingly deep waters. "I love you," he confessed, and her mouth fell open. He'd never said it aloud before. The words hung in the air, gathering strength and weight until he thought they would crush him…but it would be a glorious death. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. I never thought I could love like this. Let me love you, Thea. Let me be with you. The Chitauri have taken so much from us but they cannot take what I feel for you. Let me love you. Marry me."

"Um…but…how?" She sat fully upright, shoving at her hair. "How can we? We're stuck here. There's no priest, no justice of the peace, nothing like that. We can't just be like, 'Oh, we're married. The end.' Can we? Not that that wouldn’t be cool—not to mention really convenient—but is that even legal?"

"In Asgard it is," Loki replied, and her mouth fell open again. "Remember, I have half of a Golden Apple of Iðunn.” He’d told her of his ability to access a thimbleful of magic weeks ago. “I can give it to you. If you eat it, and you exchange vows with me, you will be my wife by Asgardian law."

"Holy sweet honey iced-tea," she whispered. A pang shot through Loki's chest at the plain shock on her face, but then he realized that Thea's eyes were shining, wet with what could only be unshed tears of happiness, mixed with a gleam of excitement. With a squeal, she launched herself at Loki. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she knocked him to the grass. Her weight crashed down on him, and it was perhaps the most pleasant attack he’d ever known.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Holy hot fudge sundaes! We can get married now? Like right now? Seriously?” When he nodded, she squeezed him tighter, raining kisses all over his face, and cried, “Awesome! So awesome! You'll be all mine! Like, actually really totally completely mine! Yes! Eat your hearts out, Asgardian chicks, he’s mine! Mine, mine, mine! Go me! In your faces!"

She pulled back enough to look down into his stunned face. Grinning, she added, "It's like a million birthdays and Christmas all smushed together into a giant fudge brownie with chocolate sprinkles and chocolate chips and dipped in melting vanilla ice cream dumped in a stickiness-resistant Easter basket with edible grass. Great, now I want a brownie and edible grass. I am like, obsessed with junk food. It's like crack for me. It’s what comes into my head when I’m rapturously delighted with stuff. I want a brownie."

Thea cocked her head, smiling down at him. "Will you be my brownie? Oh! Or my penguin! Penguins mate for life, did you know that? So do otters. Will you be my chocolate otter-penguin pastry? Erm…brownies are technically biscuits, because they’re made with batter, but chocolate otter-penguin biscuit doesn’t sound as good and I am so rambling because I love you and you’re going to be my brownie!"

Even though it was the silliest, most inane statement that could have been made in that moment, Loki grinned and nodded. "Oh, yes, darling. Yes, I am."

"Awesome," Thea breathed. "I love you. You’re the best chocolate otter-penguin ever. Gimme that apple."

It was a wrench to lose the illusion, the beauty of spring stars and the fragrances on the breeze, but Loki had something he needed to do before he could give Thea the Golden Apple of Iðunn. And she was in her cell, he knew, doing…something. He wasn’t sure what, but it bought him time.

Drawing on his seiðr, he let it spill out in a needle-thin sheet to cover the floor of his dirty cell. It was such a small spell, nothing too difficult, but the effort sent lances of pain stabbing deep into his brain. A thin trickle of blood spilled from one nostril; he caught it with the hem of his sleeve. The magic would act as a second floor, protecting Thea from dirt and grime. Normally it wouldn’t matter, but this was to be their wedding.

Their wedding…

Next, Loki managed to pull a comb and a relatively clean shirt from the place between dimensions. It took him several minutes of savage yanking to comb the tangles from his hair, but he would do Thea honor as best he could with this. He would.

Using some of his precious water, he stripped and cleaned as much of the grime from his body as he could, then put on the cleaner shirt—a rich emerald green with only a few rips in it and an embroidered collar. He didn’t wear it because it was a touch too small and it was torn, but it was the cleanest thing he owned. Finally, he took out the Apple and waited in its lovely golden glow and the soft beams of the two small flashlights he'd set up somewhat like candles in opposite corners of the cell.

Thea poked her head into his cell through the hole a few moments later and smiled shyly at him. She’d taken the time to clean up, as well. Her face had been washed, her hair combed and pinned in a new style. And though Loki knew it to be an illusion, she wore a beautiful ivory dress the glimmered like moonlight. After a few minutes of wiggling, she squeezed into Loki’s cell and settled against the wall.

They were really doing this. They were going to marry, right here and now. She deserved a palace wedding in the vaulted halls of the All-Father, with jewels and flowers and other such, but this was all he could give her. Yet she smiled at him as if Loki were heaping her with riches.

“Take it,” he whispered, holding out the Apple. “You realize what will happen when you eat this?” He’d told her about Bellalyse months ago, about how she’d gone from being Vanir to Æsir after eating one of the Golden Apples. Thea knew what would become of her after she tasted of the fruit…but he wanted to give her the chance to back out if she wasn’t ready for all that marrying him entailed.

Her look was gentle and amused when she took the fruit from him. “I’ll be an immortal love goddess. Not too much different from right now, except I’ll actually have a bodacious husband. Somehow, I’m okay with that.” Growing serious, she said, “I love you, Loki. These months here…I love you, and I want us to be together all the time. Forever. I want to marry you. Right now. So let’s do it.”

Loki watched Thea take careful bites from the Golden Apple, watched the healthy color flush through her pale face. With each bite, the delicious and crisp scent of the fruit flooded the small chamber. With each bite, Thea's eyes sparkled brighter and she sat straighter as health and seiðr flooded her body. Something excruciating and glorious squeezed his heart. When there was nothing left but half of a nibbled apple core, Loki sent it back to the between-place and took Thea's hands in his. Her skin was soft and warm, and remarkably clean. He raised her hands to his lips and kissed each one.

"I, Loki Odinson, do pledge thee my heart, body, and soul until the end of eternity, until the coming of Ragnarok and the death of Time." Slowly, feeling his own hands shake, he brought Thea's hands to his lips again and kissed first one, then the other. Then he turned her hand up and pressed his lips to the center of her palm.

Thea let out a breathy sigh at the caress. "I, Althea Sigyn Valerian, do pledge thee my heart, body, and soul until the end of eternity, until the coming of Ragnarok and the death of Time." Then she reached into the front of her dress and pulled out a silver chain. On the chain was an engraved golden ring with a green stone in it—a man's ring. "Here," she murmured, pulling the chain over her head. "This was my mom's. She gave it to me when I graduated high school; she got it from her dad. On Earth, we exchange rings. I know you probably don't have one for me, and that's okay, because I've got this." She pulled a ring off her finger, and he realized it was almost a match for the one hanging from her neck. "But if you wear this, it would be almost the same. Will you wear it?"

A swell of emotion squeezed Loki's heart and he took the proffered ring. He was really doing this, he thought. He was really, truly marrying her. They were married. The joy burgeoning within him could not be shattered. Nothing could destroy this. Yes, they were still prisoners, and yes the Chitauri would hurt them both again…but this moment was somehow perfect, despite all of that.

The ring didn't fit, so he put it around his neck. Then he slid Thea's own ring on the proper finger, hands still shaking just a touch. So quickly, it was all happening so fast, but he wanted it, he wanted this. He wanted her.

He loved her…and that terrified him to his bones, even as the knowledge of it threatened to make his heart burst.

“Now what?” She asked softly, biting her lip. His eyes fixed on her mouth. He had kissed those lips countless times over the last four moons, ever since that night of dancing amidst an illusionary crowd…but this was different. Loki could feel the sudden tension thrumming through them both. Without conscious thought he leaned toward her.

Loki hadn’t thought of what would come after the exchange of vows; not really. But now…now, when he could see the beautiful shape of her body in the glow of the upright flashlights, when her hair gleamed in the dimness like threads of jeweled shadow, a wave of desire crashed over him, pulling like the tide. He drew near her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb swept across the lush curve of her lower lip. His wife. In a reckless moment of need and hope and love, danger and desire humming in his blood, he had made this angel his wife.

“Now I kiss my wife,” he murmured, unable to keep the awe from his voice, and touched his lips to hers.

 

.

Thor stared at his little brother in absolute shock. It couldn’t be…how had he never considered…Somehow, through numb lips, Thor whispered, “Thea was your wife. She was your wife.” He felt suddenly sick. The Chitauri had killed Loki’s wife. “Why…why did you say nothing? They killed your wife. Brother, I would have helped you! She was your wife, my sister; I would have helped you.” Then a terrible, horrifying thought sliced Thor to the marrow. His heart gave a savage lurch in his chest. “Sophie…Sophie was…Loki, was Sophie…?”

A low, buzzing pulse rippled across the prison cell before hitting the wall of seiðr keeping Loki trapped inside. Thor stepped back as his brother bolted upright and swung his legs over the side of his cot. He lunged to his feet and took two swift strides toward the window before jerking to a halt in the center of the room. Spreading his hands wide, he fixed Thor with a tortured gaze. Energy crackled along his palms even as the prison’s seiðr tried to shove it down. Wisps of shadow and emerald light drifted up from the floor, twining together like serpents. Loki never looked away from Thor’s face as the illusion solidified. Blood trickled from Loki’s nose and he chewed his bottom lip until more blood came, but he glared at his brother, daring him to look away, daring him to be the coward and not acknowledge what Loki was at last going to show him.

Then the illusion came together, and Thor staggered back to stare at the little girl who looked back at him: a little girl, perhaps a year old, in a green velvet smock embroidered in gold; she held a black teddy bear, its fur the same shade as her curling black hair. But it was her eyes that ripped at Thor’s heart. The eyes, in that angular ivory face so much like a face he knew so well, were a brilliant emerald green.

“My daughter,” Loki whispered, and his voice was that of a man in terrible agony. “Thea was my wife, and Sophie was my daughter.” And Loki’s legs buckled and he sank to the floor. Bowing his head, shoulders shaking, he let the illusion fade as the tears coursed down his cheeks.