Chapter 1:

I stepped onto the dias, out of the Bifrost, staring around at the dome that to me, a child, looked impossibly large.

"Welcome to Asgard, little one," came the deep voice of the gatekeeper, Heimdall. He looked kindly down at me with his golden eyes that bespoke his position, beneath his gilded helmet and above the sword that he used to open and close the Bifrost.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

There were sudden footsteps, and then a hooded figure appeared. The person was at least six inches taller than me, but when he spoke I realized that he must have only been a little older than me. "My father has sent me to bring her to the Palace."

Heimdall nodded. "Take her where you will," he replied, turning his gaze back to the spinning cosmos.

I quickly fell in step beside the boy as we walked down the bridge that seemed to have been enfused with rainbow. "My name is Freya," I said, trying for conversation.

The boy turned his head slightly, and I caught a flash of a grin in a pale face. "I know," he replied simply.

"You're Loki." It wasn't a question.

The boy stiffened, then relaxed and pulled his hood down with long, elegant fingers that reminded me of my own hands. "Yes," he agreed, looking at me with a mixture of hope and worry in his bright green eyes. "I am."

I took in his black hair, still close to his head in a little boy's cut, even though if he was older than me he had to be in his mid-teens. He had high cheekbones and a mischevious sort of set to his entire frame, like he found everything amusing and couldn't wait to trick everyone into believing something ridiculous before pulling it back and making then look like fools.

"I like you," I said simply, and another odd mixture of confusion and pleasure crossed his face.

"Thanks," he replied, sounding a little bemused. It was as if nobody had ever said that to him - or more like nobody liked him.

We walked in silence the rest of the way. I turned my head back and forth, my dark blue eyes flitting everywhere and my dark brown hair sliding around my shoulders as I tried to take in everything of Asgard.

We finally reached the Palace, then the throne room. With each step, Loki seemed to become more tense and more withdrawn, pulling himself inward and away from the world around him, as if he was afraid of rejection.

I watched him with concern, and then jerked my head up as I heard a rather arrogant voice say, "Who is this, Father?"

I noted that Loki flinched more than ever at the other boy's voice.

From behind a column stepped a boy about Loki's age, with blond hair and bright blue eyes and a slight smirk.

"This is Freya, Thor," replied Odin, from up on the throne. I could see Frigga standing beside him, looking resplendant in a blue dress. Thor walked up to join his father and mother on the dias, and Loki and I reached the base of it and stopped.

"Why is she here?" asked Thor.

I fixed him with a look of barely hidden loathing. "She can talk, you know," I informed him. "I'm here because my parents are dead and I am related to you, so your mother offered to take me in."

"How are you related to us?"

"Cousin would be the short answer," I replied.

I got a look of confusion from Odin and Frigga, and Loki whispered, "What's the long one?"

I sighed. "I - my biological mother died, and so my father, Tir, married Frigga's sister, and then both of them died and now I'm here. I'm sort of a step-cousin."

Thor wasn't listening. "Whatever," he said absently, then turned to his father and started babbling away.

Odin held up a hand to silence him for a moment, and told Loki, "Take Freya to her rooms. Frigga, you should probably go with them."

Frigga nodded and came down towards the two of us. I watched Thor launch back into his long gobbledegook of whatever he wanted to tell his dad, and then turned and followed Frigga and Loki.

Loki seemed to stop shrinking around Frigga, basically as soon as he was away from Odin and Thor. I frowned, but neither of my companions noticed, and so we continued on down a long hallway.

Years passed, and Loki and I grew into our twenties. The first day I was in Asgard, I stuck to Loki like glue, which seemed to bother him at first - his only comment for the whole day was, "I don't need two shadows."

The next day he seemed indifferent, and then slowly we became friends.

I was his only friend, the only person besides Frigga who could convince Loki that he was worth ten Thors, that Thor was an asshat and Loki didn't need to feel secondary. Well, that was really my convincing. Frigga spent her time trying to convince both boys that they were equals.

I spent all the time that I wasn't with Loki learning to fight, to be a woman warrior. Sif was my tutor, being a little older than me. She taught me how to fight, but also how to hold myself in such a way that nobody would scoff at a woman warrior.

My other training was with Frigga, who was teaching both me and Loki how to do her tricks. I could do the same things that Loki and his mother could, every bit, but I was behind in learning how.

Life passed, until after a long time it seemed that nothing bad could happen. Loki would come to me for advice, and I to him. We told each other the deepest, darkest things that resided within our hearts, and everything we didn't want anybody else to know. I was his confidante, and he was my confidant. The only ones each of us had.

The worst day of my life happened.

We all stood in the throne room, dumbstruck as the messenger delivered his message. Apparently, the horse god, Svaolifari wished to take Frigga as his wife. And if she refused, she needed to go out anyway to "speak with him." Preferrably in horse form.

Frigga was being proper and saying, "Hell no." So I offerred up a good idea: "How about I go out in the form of a horse. I am unmarried, unpromised, it wouldn't be too much of an issue."

Loki shook his head. "Freya, no. Even if you could hold horse form long enough, I would say no," he vetoed.

"What do you suggest, then?" I snapped back.

He shrugged, then moved quicker than lightning, shoving me backwards against a column. My breath was knocked from my body, and while I was slightly incapacitated, he chained me there. "Now you can't follow," he said with a tiny smirk at me.

I glared at him. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare."

But he was already turning away, and he was halfway out the door, his coat swishing behind him before he turned again. "Don't wait up," he ordered me.

I offered him a half-smile, and then suddenly there was a horse where Loki had been, a black mare with green eyes that glinted even from where I was.

Then he was gone.

I screamed and tore at the chains, but nobody thought to take them off, because then I would run after him, and then Loki would murder whoever unchained me.

So I screamed myself hoarse and scraped my wrists raw and bloody on the cuffs Loki had created. My voice gave out after awhile, and my strength a little while later, but still nobody let me out because they a) thought my exhaustion was an act or b) knew that I would still run after Loki.

Near dawn, there were footsteps at the door, and then Loki, in normal form, stumbled in, looking exhausted, harrassed, and mentally scarred. However, he did seem triumphant. He almost smiled when his eyes lit on me, and he came over and unlocked my chains. As soon as it was done, I shoved him hard in the chest, knocking him back into a pillar of his own. While he looked surprised, I stormed off to my room.

I stood in the center and screamed without any sound but a thin rasping noise, then snatched up my sword (named Bitre, or Biter in some languages) and started slamming on my bed-posts of the four-poster bed against the wall.

After about a minute, there was a gentle knock at the door. I turned and rasped, "Come in." It barely made any noise, and I knew the person on the other side would be unable to hear. So with a sigh, I sent a projection of myself out the door with a beckoning finger.

The door swung quietly open, and then swung shut softly. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder, and I knew immediately who it was. I shoved the sword back into its sheath and tossed it onto the bed, where it landed with a muffled thump.

I turned to look at Loki, who was standing looking tired but happy to see me. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

I shook me head and showed him my wrists, then pointed at my half-dead throat, then poked him in the chest with an accusing look.

He clucked his tongue and had me sit down on the edge of the trunk at the foot of my bed, producing a roll of white bandage from his pocket, along with a healing salve he had clearly stolen from the infirmary. He rubbed it on the bands of gently bleeding, raw skin and then wound the bandages around them, tying them off and weighing my smaller, limp hands in his.

"Thanks," I said, it coming out sounding like sandpaper.

Loki offered a half-smile. "It was my fault, anyway." His green eyes were full of guilt, but not apology. "I would never have let you follow me," he said.

I glared and croaked, "I could have dealt."

He gave me a raised-eyebrow look. "Do you realize how painful it would be to suddenly change into human form while canoodling with a gigantic horse?"

"I suppose you would know?" I asked, meaning it as a joke. He winced, and I decided not to push. "I know you wouldn't have let me, Loki. But I believe I could have coped. After all..." I hesitated, my hand against his cheek, then continued: "You may be bi, Loki, but you're male in your head. It has to be at the very least awkward."

He shrugged. "A shapeshifter like you or I is not held into their gender like everyone else. At least, not physically. Now stop using your voice. It'll just make it worse."

I made a face at him and pulled my hand away.

Ten days later, I was locked in my room, screaming and banging on the door with my fists until they bled and other points (elbows, knees, feet) until they bruised. Why?

Because according to some reports, Loki was giving birth upstairs.

After two hours, the door finally swung open. My sword pommel immediately flew out and thumped into the Asgardian warrior's head. Without a second look at his unconscious form, I turned and sprinted upstairs.

I slid into the throne room and immediately saw Loki in normal form, standing looking exhausted, scarred, and everything from before times ten. Next to him stood an eight-legged horse, whickering gently at his "mother." Loki spotted me and waved me over.

I walked over and gestured at the horse, giving Loki a questioning look.

He sighed. "You broke your voice again, didn't you?"

I nodded, and showed him my bleeding fists as well.

"Well, Freya, this is my son, Sleipnir."

"So, you actually gave birth," I rasped disbelievingly.

Loki nodded. "You bet. Sleipnir, say hello." The horse made an odd noise and trotted forward awkwardly on its too-many feet, then licking my face in a very friendly way.

I nodded and giggled silently, patting his face.

"He's gorgeous, isn't he? Aren't you, buddy?" cooed Loki, stroking Sleipnir's neck.

I stared at Loki, acting like a real parent. I sighed, wishing somehow that I could have saved him the experience, even if Loki seemed okay.

HI! This is my lovely Loki/OC fanfic that I was thinking of after watching Thor: The Dark World. I just had all these Loki feels, and I had put them somewhere, so...THIS. For any who've read my other fics, I know that this is my second fic with a main charrie named Freya, but the name seemed apt, so...yeah. Way fun. Hope you like! This is my way of trying to keep Loki from murdering so many people. So, a girl! WHEEEEE. I just love Loki so much. Please review!