Disclaimer Again

If I owned it, would I really be posting it here? I think I'd be trying to get it drawn and printed for sale, but maybe I'm just silly.

Some say the world will end in fire;

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

-Robert Frost, Harper's Magazine, December 1920

Chapter Two

Alyssa lay on her bed, thinking seriously about running herself through with one of her own swords or perhaps Seph's Masamune. It was bad enough she'd let the God of Lies, himself, into her home. Bad enough that she kept talking with him until she'd deluded herself into nearly trusting him. Now she'd handed him enough ammunition to truly hurt her. And she had nothing with which to strike back, should she need to.

He'd probably try to smite her where she stood if she tried, anyway...

She turned onto her other side and stared at the other wall of her bedroom. Not any more interesting than the first one. Still, the movement was welcome. She knew the worried, despairing ache she felt was emotional - not physical - but it didn't stop if from feeling physical. Oh, Mother, how could I have been so foolish?

Loki, in his own room, wasn't much better off. His mind hadn't stopped since she'd revealed what she had this afternoon. Now he was listening to her toss and turn in the next room and was at a loss. How could he do anything to help? It's not like he could raise her husband from the dead.

Not that he would if he could. He wanted her for himself...

No. Stop. Don't think about that right now. She's as likely to want you as she is to beg Thor to drop Mjölnir on her head. He absently rubbed his chest were the hammer had rested as he studied the stars painted above him. She probably sees you as another version of the bastard that sired her.

He heard the bed springs squeak as she rolled again, and something in him snapped. He might not know where her father was. He might not be able – or willing – to raise her lover from the dead. But he could try to help her now. Hopefully she doesn't hit me for trying.

He was stronger than a mortal, but the ones who didn't care about pain could pack quite a punch. He had the feeling she'd be quite willing to break her hand if she wanted to strike him. No doubt, she'd make it as hard a hit as possible on the assumption that he'd kill her afterwards.

Alyssa quieted and stiffened slightly when her door creaked open. She forced herself to relax and lay still, not wanting him to know she was awake.

"I know you're not sleeping."

Damn.

He came around to the edge of the bed she was facing. Giving up the pretense, she rolled onto her back to stare at him. She'd been crying, and hated for him to see more weakness to use, but what was the point in trying to hide it from a determined god? She supposed if he wanted to subject himself to her unsightly appearance post-breakdown, that was his business.

He sat next to her and his cool hand rested lightly on her forehead before stroking her hair back. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, before she let them drift shut. The chill eased her oncoming headache a bit. She shouldn't accept the comfort. No doubt it would just set her up for worse later. But she just couldn't help it. It had been so long since someone had even tried.

His hand gently stroked her hair and she just lay there and let him. She felt... tired. More tired than she had felt in years. Poor Seph hadn't deserved his fate at her father's hands, nor his childhood with his father. What was it about parents that screwed their children so well? The desire to think them perfect or the damage they did before the realization that they weren't?

She just frowned at him and opened her eyes again. "Are you going to destroy me?"

His eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. The look of shock was comical and she would have laughed if she didn't truly want to know the answer to the question she'd asked. He started to answer her, then paused and thought about it for a moment. "No, I have no inclination towards harming you. Though I wouldn't mind spending a few days eviscerating your father."

She smirked a bit. "I didn't eviscerate him, but I'm sure he's not happy. I destroyed research that had been years in the making – plans for devices that he could never hope to replicate as the scientists that created them were dead. I transmitted his entire itinerary – and a pass code to retrieve updated ones – to a terrorist group that wants him dead. Then, I did the unthinkable. I took his favorite weapon – me – away from him. The political backlash from his daughter having disappeared, especially with those people who know that he 'disappears' political opponents regularly, will be formidable."

Loki smiled and continued stroking her hair. "Don't you want to do more?"

She shook her head and sighed. "He's not... normal when compared to average humans. The most important things to him are power and political capital. I forced him to spend both when I left. I not only betrayed him and removed plans for weapons that would further his agenda, I made both his allies and opponents think less of him."

She reached for the words to explain, but thought that he might just understand better than she was assuming. He was a god, and had also been betrayed a few times himself. "He'll recover from the loss, he always does. But no matter how much I despise him and will probably saturate my liver in celebratory alcohol when he's gone... I can't kill him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

She met sat up and turned to better face him, her weight leaning on one hand as she gestured with the other. "I am the person who I have to live with. Not him, not anyone else. I have to keep some respect for myself or I'll wind up spiraling down in a self-destructive orgy of pain."

She was still looking into his emerald eyes. She wasn't sure how to identify what she saw. It couldn't be awe. There was amazement, but there was no way that he would allow himself to be awed by what was surely just a normal human to his eyes. The emotions present were too intense. She lay back on the bed and let her eyes close, unable to hold his gaze any longer.

He was very quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was serious. "I don't know if I could stop myself, if I... If someone I cared for was harmed, I don't think my rage would know nor care for boundaries. To be able to confine yours so... You are stronger than I would have given a human credit for."

She didn't open her eyes. If she did, the fragile bubble of hope his words built might burst. Someone to understand, she'd never really hoped that she'd find someone who would. She almost couldn't believe that she had now. Still, she wasn't sure she could trust him and she couldn't just let the backhanded insult to humanity pass. "Thank you. I think."

She heard his chuckle, and didn't object when he returned to stroking her hair. It was soothing. She could almost...

He smiled a bit as his spell finally took effect. She'd resisted it for quite a while but now she would sleep deeply and without dreams... Well, there was a small chance that she'd dream of the land of purple bunnies, but there was always an element of chaos to his spells. It was part of the fun.

So strong. He had to wonder where she'd gained such strength. How did humans endure so much, when he'd seen gods destroyed both physically and emotionally by similar circumstances? He'd seen his own devastation in the mirror often enough. Perhaps if he'd thought faster, he'd have seen the potential ramifications his own future held. I can't be sure I wouldn't have gambled it, anyway.

It was startling to see her relax so easily with him, though. He could have sworn that she was more wary of him than this. She was weary and had been holding in the pain for a long time. He supposed that that might have something to do with it.

He lightly brushed his fingers across her forehead again, and then let them slide down her cheek. She didn't turn away from his chilled skin. In fact, her head turned into his hand and nuzzled him. He found himself both baffled and amazed. In her sleep she didn't find him repulsive and he doubted that his touch could be mistaken for anyone else. After all, how many people on this planet were regularly at least ten degrees below the normal human body heat?

He walked quietly out of the room, using his magic to muffle sound and ensure that no squeaky floorboard – or door – disturbed her slumber. He had a lot of thinking to do.

Alyssa woke to the smell of bacon and both her eyebrows shot to her hairline. She suppressed the urge to panic, reminding herself that he had to have cooked before at least once in his extremely long lifespan... she hoped. She headed into her bathroom to shower and change after deciding to look on the upside: It could be that an eccentric burglar had broken in and decided to cook!

She finished her morning routine quickly, and headed down the stairs. She stepped into the kitchen and blinked. Not only was there hot food on the table, but the room was immaculate. She could see herself in the gray slate floor. For a minute there, she was certain that the rugin front of the sink – the rug! - actually did sparkle at her. It had been so stained from spilled dishwater and accumulated dirt that she was thinking of tossing it out as a lost cause.

Her eyes finally landed on Loki and she blinked at him. Twice. He was grinning. Not an 'Aha! I have done great evil and you will fear me' grin, but an 'I have done you a wonderful service, now appreciate me' grin. Well, there was a bit of shyness mixed in, but she supposed that he was doing his best to seem his normal, arrogant self. "Wow... I just... This is... amazing... Thank you..."

His smile – if possible – widened as she sat down while still babbling her thanks. He let her continue on for a few more moments before reaching over and very deliberately shoving a fork full of egg into her mouth. It took her a moment to register that they were there. Longer to chew and longer still to actually taste them.

She'd died.

That had to be it. She couldn't be simply experiencing a joyful and wonderful morning. No. She had to have died. The food was too good, too perfect, to come from Earth. But didn't people who'd killed and tortured go to someplace horrible? So why here? Was it the afterlife without soda? Or maybe chocolate was the lacking item? Finally she swallowed. "This is fantastic... But... Why?"

He just gave her a slight smirk and continued eating his meal.

He had to fight not to laugh. When she'd walked into the kitchen, her face had been priceless. He'd thought she'd faint when she looked at the floor. It hadn't taken much to fix it. A few murmured spells and the room – including her cooking utensils – had been perfectly clean.

Breakfast itself had been a little harder, but he'd spent the last week or so watching her do it. He'd had more than enough chance to learn how everything worked. A few hours on Food Network – luckily quite a few chefs had decided to cover breakfast for some reason – and he'd been ready to cook her a perfect meal... If he'd had the ingredients.

A quick check of her purse and he had the idea of what the local currency looked and felt like. A very productive walk through the city had earned him a few wallets and enough money to finance an extremely expensive dinner – or several normal breakfasts, since that seemed to be the only meal she really ate. He had to inwardly laugh a bit. Thor would be so very irate – an Asgard citizen as a pick pocket? Unheard of!

He'd noticed that she devoured that one meal, then snacked throughout the day. Not always healthy food, but always high calorie. Her diet was 'fattening enough to fuel a linebacker,' as he'd heard one of the actors on TV comment. She consumed over five thousand calories a day when you included all the soda. She should be roughly the weight of her car, not the whip-slender girl he saw.

A little time with Springer had had him wondering if she was anorexic or bulimic, but he'd listened and watched carefully and could find no evidence of that being the case. The only potential laxative in the house he'd found was coffee, he never heard her vomit, and she certainly didn't exercise frantically after binging. Not that he'd seen her binge – her food intake varied by about fifty calories at maximum. For that matter, he'd never seen her really exercise at all.

He'd decided that her brain was more advanced and therefore required more calories to burn than the average human. He'd re-evaluate later when he had more information. He had no idea how right he was with the initial diagnosis.

Last night, he'd seen a part of her that he could tell no one else got to see: the part of her that mourned both her lost husband and the destruction of her familial relationships. He still wasn't sure what he thought about it. But the feelings that it awoke... When was the last time he felt this protective towards someone? When was the last time he wanted to see someone else smile? He didn't know.

Now, he waited until she finished eating and smiled at her. "You've taken quite good care of me this last week. It's my turn."

Halfway through her meal, she'd nearly smacked herself. Of course he'd do something insanely kind like this. Mischief didn't always mean evil, and she doubted that he really wanted to repay her care with a bad case of hepatitis or something. Of course, if he'd wanted to be perverse... She mentally smacked herself again. Norse. Warrior society. Debt was a big thing to them.

Thankfully, she'd realized. If she hadn't, she'd have been more than a bit shocked when he spoke. Instead, she was able to thank him and tell him that any help he wanted to contribute wasn't needed but was most certainly and gratefully accepted. She enjoyed his surprise for a few seconds, then escaped his sight. She'd had enough for the morning and she really needed to shred the defenses on an engineering firm's computer system.

He watched her go and frowned. She seemed to be happy but less puzzled than he'd expected. Well, not every plan could turn out perfectly. If it did, then life wouldn't be any fun. A gesture had the dishes clean and back in their places, then he wandered to the living room to browse some more of this world's literature. Perhaps he'd study poetry today.

She settled down next to him on the sofa. He was watching yet another story about a criminal. This time it was in movie form: Catch Me If You Can. There was no way he wasn't cheering the con artist. They'd get along too well. She glanced at him, noting he seemed to be immersed in the Kindle. "What are you reading now?"

"Hmmm... Yes." His eyes never left the page.

She grinned. "Is it good?"

"Yes."

"Can I dye your hair purple with pink streaks?" There was no way he was actually going to fall for that, right?

"Yes."

He frowned and looked up from Robert Frost to stare over the edge of the couch when she fell off of it laughing. What could be that amusing? From what he could tell, the movie wasn't inspiring it. Perhaps she'd said something? He replayed the last few minutes in his mind and sighed. Such a juvenile trick. But then... He had fallen for it, hadn't he? "I'd much prefer green."

She grinned up at him from the floor. Her cheeks were flushed and strands of hair were pointing in odd directions thanks to her antics. He found himself smiling. Not his deflective smirk, but a real smile. He quickly adjusted his face back into an impassive mask as he contemplated his sudden tendency to let his guard down. How had that happened?

Alyssa climbed back onto the sofa grinning. Poor Loki. He just didn't know how to handle some of the more childish pranks, did he? At least, when they were aimed at him. She patted his knee in gentle consolation and returned to the movie. It was odd, but she spent more time thinking about how Loki could have pulled off the plots much better.

One week turned into three. Alyssa was making his life more amusing, now that she knew he wouldn't kill her for pranking him. He'd fall asleep in his normal nightclothes and wake up to find that he was – somehow – wearing teddy bear footie pajamas. He still couldn't figure out how she had managed that one. Or, he'd shower and step out to realize that his hair was an odd green-black shade... He had to admit he didn't mind the color change that much. Especially since it made her smile when he left it like that for a few days.

Of course, he had to return the favor. Though it didn't always work out the way he'd planned. What fun was letting a dozen live mice loose in her room, when he came in later to find her teaching them to play games? She didn't seem to respond normally to any of the traditional womanly terrors. Spiders sent her scurrying for a flyswatter with great determination, not fear. She thanked him for the garter snake, proclaiming it cute and letting it laze in a terrarium on her desk.

He made her hair curl into an 'fro.' She downloaded Shaft and ate popcorn. He turned her entire wardrobe pink. She thanked him for the 'blood-stained white' after admitting that she was getting a little too monochromatic. He even served her green eggs and ham after finding a child's book on the topic. She asked him to pass the salt and complemented the new recipe!

Of course, then she made dinner the next night as a 'thank you.' It was a full traditional Scottish meal... including haggis. The worst part was she ate her portion without batting an eyelash. He'd spent the evening sneaking other food and the next week dodging 'his leftovers' that were in the fridge. She made it her business to suggest he eat it at every opportunity, and did a poor job of hiding her smirk at his responses.

During that time, he'd also learned one major difference between Aesir and Midgard women. Aesir didn't suffer from the monthly mood swings that his hostess did. He found this out – to his detriment – when he made the mistake of pranking her supplies and hiding her chocolate. He could still feel the impact of the frying pan on his left shoulder. She certainly didn't throw 'like a girl,' though he doubted that she'd have done it if she hadn't been hormonal. Mentioning that to her meant he had to dodge a steel mixing bowl, as well.

He really wasn't sure that men who said women were the weaker sex actually knew what they were talking about.

He grinned a bit as he contemplated her reactions. Now that he wasn't so busy being irritated that he'd usually failed to get a rise out of her, he had to admit that she handled his chaotic tendencies well. She'd never once even attempted to scold him for it. With the obvious exception of the flying cooking utensils, but he willingly admitted that he'd apparently crossed a rather important line with that prank. Otherwise, she seemed to enjoy the lighter side of his humor. More than anyone else he'd ever dealt with.

He glanced over at her. She was sitting on the sofa with her laptop, instant messaging back and forth with some company's president about her latest job. Her hair was up in a tatty bun, with a pencil shoved through to hold it in place. Strands were making a bid for freedom and gently curling about her ears and neck. Her lips were pressed tightly together in some mix of anger and frustration. Every now and then, her hands clenched like she wanted to strangle someone, before she started rapidly tapping on the keys again. He could swear that he actually heard her growl. "Want me to take care of them?"

Her head snapped up and she blinked at him a few times before grinning. "No, I think I'd rather that they be both human and sane enough to sign my paycheck."

He smirked. How well she knew him. "I was more thinking of giving them a truly horrible day. All the tires flat, out of coffee, credit cards declined and maybe having to deal with proving himself legally alive."

Her grin turned to full on laughter. "I could do that last one myself, if I wanted. No, thank you. I think I can deal with him a bit better now, though." Her eyes twinkled at him as she gestured towards the television. "Taking inspiration from the movie, are you?"

He chuckled. "Of course. Good mischief inspiration is not to be dismissed. No matter what the source or sources may be, the ideas will still inspire a healthy chaos."

She snickered and turned back to the computer. A few more keystrokes and then she was shutting it down. "Told him that if he wanted to go with an inferior contractor to save money it was up to him. Not my problem if his systems get hacked and he has to deal with the fallout."

Loki nodded. She settled in to her corner of the couch and pulled her feet up. "So, have you watched this one before? I've lost track."

He shook his head. "No, I did watch something called Sneakers this morning, but it wasn't really one that I enjoyed."

She smiled. "I loved it when it came out, but it has lost a bit of it's shiny newness over the years. More so, because people are starting to understand that there are a lot of inaccuracies. There are in this one, too, but it is kinda hard to make a bunch of people typing command code seem interesting without all the pretty graphics."

He just smiled and turned back to the screen, trying to focus in on the plot again. It was difficult. She looked different, today. Perhaps it was the seething anger from earlier, or the too large t-shirt and denim cutoffs she was wearing. Either way, she seemed more delicate than normal – her smiles more brittle. She was more likely to break if someone said the wrong thing at the wrong time. He was a little perturbed by his own reaction...

He didn't want to ask what was wrong because he wanted her to keep smiling.

She could almost hear him, all day: the gentle chuckle, the whinging, the outrageous temper and random confusion at things he didn't understand. Everywhere she turned, she could see Seph. It helped that she'd finally gotten Loki clothing of his own, so she didn't have to turn around and see another one of her husband's shirts. But still...

It was hard to keep up the happy front with Loki around constantly. He'd almost dragged her from her office, claiming that she worked too hard and needed a break. At least he'd let her keep her laptop with her. The rage from the lawyer's office breaking her contract had been a welcome distraction. Not that he'd let her keep it, of course. Nope. He just had to make her laugh.

She sighed as she watched the movie and let her mind wander further down that path. Why did he care if she laughed or cried? No one else did. As of today, no one had really given a damn in precisely a year. She felt her eyes tearing up, and forced herself into nearly forgotten meditation techniques in order to stem the flow before it started. Perhaps her complete and total abandonment of her paternal heritage was misguided. She'd never felt this unbalanced when she'd meditated regularly.

With another sigh, she patted his knee and left him there. The fourth bedroom of the house was empty, because she hadn't really decided what to do with it. She'd never been one for keeping extra items that she didn't need, so it wasn't as if she could use it for storage. Seph's things didn't count, and were still kept in her bedroom closet.

She stood in the empty room for a moment, remembering how they'd discussed making it a nursery. It was a good thing that they hadn't started decorating, or she'd never have been able to handle the loss of both her husband and potential family. A year and twenty days ago she'd gone off her birth control. A year ago, he'd died. She'd wondered at the time if that had been the reason for her father's timing, but the annexation of Gaia had finalized the day before his death so she'd pushed that thought aside.

She'd never been so unhappy to get her period in her life as she was the next month.

Now, she settled in the middle of the floor and centered herself. It was harder than it had been. All the fury and pain of the last year seemed to rise up in an attempt to stop her. Finally, though, she was able to enter the thoughtless state that she'd missed. The Force, light and dark, beckoned to her. She reached out to both and drew deeply, letting them suffuse her being and soothe her shattered spirit.

They warned her that she wasn't alone. But, as Loki knew many of her other secrets, she ignored him.

Loki watched her go with a frown. Her shoulders were slumped, almost in defeat. This was not a normal posture for her. He ran his mind back over their previous conversations, trying to find a reason for her behavior. When he did, his mind fell on the 'very' side of 'not amused.'

"He's been dead almost a year now." How could he have forgotten? Almost was not quite, which meant the anniversary was coming up soon. It must be today, or perhaps tomorrow. Either way, she was hurting and he didn't know how to help her. Mortals were... odd when it came to such things.

Then he remembered how 'odd' mortals could be.

In a flash, he was up the stairs, hoping that she wasn't going to do anything rash. A quick check confirmed that she wasn't in her room or his. The bathrooms were empty as well. All was left was the one door that was constantly closed.

He'd peeked in there, once, to find it empty. She never entered there, either. So, he'd let it go. A carpet, a closet and four barren walls held little to interest him. Now, he found himself wishing he'd asked. It would have perhaps provided more insight into her psyche.

He hesitated for a moment, then quietly opened the door. She was sitting in the middle of the floor, in a lotus position. Suddenly, whatever she was doing yielded fruit. She was surrounded in power. He could feel it wrapped around her and flowing through her. Life, death, chaos and order swirled in complete harmony and dissonance at the same time.

To his eyes, attuned to sorcery and magic, she glowed.

It wasn't a painful light. It was actually rather soothing and reminded him of something long lost in the mists of time. He couldn't quite place it, but it was hovering on the tip of his tongue and doing somersaults in the back of his mind. Gold and black blended together, swirling in her aura and further out around her.

The whole room was bathed in it.

Where it touched him, he felt rejuvenated and decrepit. He was the picture of health and the epitome of disease. He found himself sinking to the floor, feeling tears well up as anger and stabbing emotional pain rushed through him, only to be banished into an almost complete and utter peace. It washed away the feelings from his own years of inferiority and near neglectful treatment.

He knew it wasn't a permanent fix – for either of them – but he reveled in it while he could.

Later, he would be amazed that they'd sat like that for hours. She kept doing whatever generated the aura, and he just basked in the feelings that it produced while tears dried on his cheeks. He didn't even attempt to wipe them away. He didn't think to.

When she finally rose and turned to face him, he just knelt there. His mind empty outside of his own meditation for the first time in his life. No racing thoughts or laments battered at him. He watched as she walked over to him. She leaned down and brushed his hair back from his face. She pressed a gentle, chaste kiss on his lips. She guided him up to his feet and then to his room.

When she bade him to sleep well and her door closed behind her, he just stood there staring.

Imperial Dragon left me a review! I was more than a litttle pleased and very encouraged to receive it, as I haven't posted a story online in forever.

I want to say, I was browsing a particular forum the other day and there was a comment about Loki being evil because he tried to destroy the Frost Giants. In my reading of the original mythologies, I didn't find him evil. I found him stopping the others from things they should not do or telling the truth where they'd rather he didn't. Interesting qualities for someone who is supposedly evil. The prime example - the Death of Baldr - is simply him stopping them from finding a way to immortality. Considering that the gods were supposed to eventually die, he was maintaining the natural order. Evil? Maybe, but with purpose.

As far as the attempted destruction of Jotunheim in the movie, he is a god. His emotionally driven mistakes are going to be a bit larger than ours, and it was very obviously his emotions ruling him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not. Anger and jealousy, when combined with a hefty feeling of inferiority, make people a bit rash. Does it completely excuse it? No. But it makes it understandable.

And, yes, he does horrible things in the comics. But, in the comics, no one was ever able to help him with the psychological reasons behind his actions. It's hard to effectively provide therapy for the God of Manipulation. You can never be sure when he's telling you what you want to hear, or perhaps think you should.