A/N: So this is my first ever fanfiction! I'm rather proud of how this first little glimpse turned out but I am always open to critique and words of advice. I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much I did writing it!

Disclaimer: I in no way own any of the places or characters listed here. Marvel and Norse Mythology do. I simply put my thoughts down into words.

The ground beneath her feet shook, the golden towers behind him crumbled, the world tilled in her dark gaze . Deep red-violet eyes glared at her with the ferocity of a trapped animal, their depths swirling with rage and betrayal. With hate. Her stomach clenched painfully as guilt and sorrow overtook her; her own normally guarded eyes now watery. His eyes were wrong; the eyes she had loved to gaze into had long since been replaced. A single word fell from quivering red lips, the sound lingering in the air.

"Please."

And then he moved, his spear slicing through the air, his aim at the juncture of her throat. The sound of roaring in the distance broke the silence as he moved, breaking the woman out of her guilt driven haze as her body reacted. Her own staff twisted upwards, the sound of metal against metal between them as she interrupted his strike. A feral growl ripped its way out of the mischief god's slender throat, his dark gaze even more hate filled than before. The woman before him was almost gentle in comparison, his name came softly from her lips; lips he had once found so inviting. It was odd, she would later muse, how many years ago she had been the wild one, the untamed bundle of volatile excitement, and he the stoic one, always calmly collected.

With a grunt of frustration he moved again, dislodging his spear from her staff's hold and dancing away from her. Loki's discolored eyes narrowed as he calculated, trying to recall what her weaknesses had been. He would exploit and use them, make her scream and beg. Once, many years ago, he would have gutted any who dare even think on harming her. Now things had changed greatly; they were no longer the same people they had known. Their lives, their experiences had shaped them, molded them into different souls in very familiar vessels.

"Why?"

Her voice once more intruded, her almost black eyes bored into his own, pleading. For what he was not certain. An answer? An end? He sneered at her, she would get neither from him. The eyes lit up with determination, a smirk drew across his face as magic flowed through him. Within a matter of moments half a dozen clones had appeared, surrounding her. The woman, for her part, did not look at all surprised, nor did she try to defend herself as all seven Lokis walked forward: lecherous grins plastered on their faces, all seven sets of eyes the wrong color.

Her own eyes slid closed, the grip on her staff relaxed, and her chest found the slow rhythm of deep breaths. She knew what would come next, knew her options. She could either strike back at him or wait. Kill or be killed. She felt well armored lean arms wrap around her, embracing her tenderly as one would a lover. She willed her eyes to stay shut, yet her body reacted against her wishes, just as if she were a young maiden again. Dark grey eyes searched hopefully for emerald greens, only to be disappointed. The visage was right, but the man behind it had changed. She felt the telltale prick of a knife at her back, the tip pressing through a small gap in her defenses. Loki's head bent down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"I will kill you, slowly, intimately, in the very way I know you fear. I will liberate you from your purpose. I will reunite your family. Is that not what you have always wanted? Do you not miss you dear Dagda, your sweet Briget, your sisters, your mother? I can send you to them."

His voice was barely a whisper, but he knew he had her full attention. These were her weaknesses. Love. Sentiment. It was pathetic. She was just like everyone else. His mouth pulled away from the shell of her ear, barely parted lips gently caressing the side of her face as he moved. He pulled away from her only enough to see her face. To see those grey eyes stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. Those red lips parted at the sound of his voice and the feel of his mouth. He smirked once more, internally scoffing at her weakness. With that his lips descended upon hers like that of a falcon on its prey.

She gasped as his tongue invaded her mouth, the grip she had on her staff faltered and it clattered against the ground. Her hands tangled into his dark hair and her eyes slid closed as she kissed him back, taking to him like a man in a desert takes to water. The kiss itself was rough, wild, full of passion, but only fueled with hate, which rivaled passions found in love. Her knees quivered as his teeth sank into her lower lip, pulling it with him as he moved away. It was then the knife at her back found its place, sinking through the gaps in her rib cage and finding purchase in her right lung. Her eyes flew open in pain, meeting his. And for a split second she would have sworn she saw an emerald pain but all too soon is was taken over once more by red wine colors.

He sneered and pulled the hidden knife out of her lung. She coughed as blood began to pool inside of it, suffocating her from the inside. Her hands gripped at her throat as it too began to tighten up. She knew not how much time has passed as she started to collapse, her knees meeting the shimmering floor of the Bifrost. She felt a hand on her shoulder and began to fall backwards. It was then she realized how close he had brought her to the edge as she fell into the vast chasm below.

She remembered.
She remembered as she fell into the dark abyss.
A curse or a blessing she could not comprehend at this moment.
Nor the next.
She remembered eyes, two pairs of sparkling eyes.
One set filled with trickery and mischief.
While the other held courage and adventure.
In her memory they glistened, accompanied by joyous noise.
A loud bellowing laugh of comradery.
Then a softer chuckle, one whose undertone carried the promise of lies.
Then there was nothing.