He stood atop the marble stair case, clad in full armor… Waiting.
He had learned his lesson once. He couldn't rule this world with The Avengers in his way. Now he stood at the Grand Opera house in New York waiting for them to come and cart him off.
To bring him in and let him tear them apart from the inside-
The scrambling herd of people trying to escape waved in front of him like the sea. His people were scared… Good. "KNEEL!" He screamed out.
The crowd simultaneously dropped lowering their gaze. I'll never get enough of this…
There though—towards the rear. A woman still stood with her back to him. Her right hand extended for the door caught in a final attempt to escape. "You!" he bellowed enraged. "I said kneel!"
She dropped her hand, raised her chin and turned to face him. Her golden hair cascading down and framing her face and shapely figure. So… Familiar…
He leapt from the balcony landing on his feet and rising slowly, trying to intimidate her.
Her bravery didn't falter. She raised her chin even higher and there it was again. The slope of her petite nose, her high cheek bones and the blazing sapphire eyes… Her plush lips parted, "I bow to no Aesir."
O Gods he recognizes me… It was only a matter of time before they found her. She clenched her hands at her side and kept her chin up. If she was going down it was in fire and glory. "I bow to no Aesir," she repeated steely.
Loki… Yes it's Loki. How could she forget that raven black hair. He walked closer and the people parted in his wake. Did he recognize her? He looked so intently at her.
For a second she hoped… Maybe he didn't know her. Maybe she could make it out of this…
Those eyes… But from were? "I am king of this world and you will kneel to me."
Now she looked… Bored. "I will not and no you are not the king of this world." She rolled her eyes and turned to leave…
And there it was.
"FREYA!"
She froze for a second then turned back to him. "Yes Loki, it is I Freya." She paused taking a deep breath to try and regain her fleeing resolve. "It has been a while."
They had played together as children before and after the great war between their families. Freya and her twin brother Frey had been sent after the war to live in Asgard as a peace treaty was discussed.
Then when she was twelve the women of the Vanir came for her. Taking her away to train her in the art of magick, war, and love. Her mother was high preistest, and Freya was seated to rule Vanahiem. What then was she doing here on Midgard? "You are a long way from home." He said steadily closing the distance between them.
"As are you."
She was beautiful, a fully mature woman now. He admired her freely in her gown. A subtle white ivory gown draped about her figure. She seemed startled for a second at his demeanor but regained her composure. "What a looker you have become."
"I have no quarrel with you," she said soothingly. "I'll be leaving now."
Just as she the words left her lips they arrived.