A/N: Min kjaere Translates to: My Dear. It is Norwegian, the closest thing to Old Norse that I could find. I am taking this Loki from Movieverse as well as mythos.

Lift me up above this

The flames and the ashes

Lift me up and help me to fly away

Lift me up above this

The broken, the empty

Lift me up and help me to fly away.

Lift me up.

-Lyrics from Lift me up by Five Finger Death Punch

The stone cottage was small, but the size lent to the comfort of the space. It felt…cozy. Loki scanned the room as a kettle of tea began to heat on the hearth fire of a rounded rock fireplace. He noted the heavy reinforced shutters on the windows, the runes and other symbols burned into the solid wooden door.

Protection. He reasoned that the owner of this place knew some degree of hedge magic and was making sure that nothing got in. With those people out there in packs, frothing at the mouths like rabid wolves and smelling of rot, he did not blame the man in the least. The thought of them made him cringe the slightest bit, and so he looked at his surroundings some more in hopes of settling his mind on friendlier tidings.

Herbs and odd plants hung from the ceiling, drying in clumps. Several live plants grew in clay pots on the polished stone floor. There was a warm smell, some kind of foreign spice permeating the air, and all the well worn wood in the room was carved with more symbols, as well as pictations of trees and the phases of the moon. Everything radiated warmth. Loki soon found himself becoming drowsy in the overstuffed chair he occupied, so he stood and walked the walls, running his fingers over the carvings.

He was tracing the outer edges of an intricate healing hand, when the wooden blind in the corner slid back. As he turned slowly on his heel to ask about the interesting carving, he was shocked into quiet reverence of the creature before him.

The warrior cloaked in gore covered leathers and wool had gone behind the blind and a woman had emerged, drying her long blue black hair with a towel. She was of some height, strong and agile, dark lashes framing pale eyes, full rosy lips curving in a warm smile at him…the swell of ample bosom rising and falling with her breath… He stifled a gasp. A soft buckskin tunic covered her to her thighs, and more symbology decorated the bodice. Loki had the strange feeling that he recognized her, and perhaps this were all some sort of dream concocted by this sorceress, when she stepped in front of the firelight. His heart, deprived of female contact for far too long, skipped a beat. Loki swallowed dryly, watching as the light reflected off of her, the skin of her chest glowing warm as fresh honey. It had been ages since a woman had graced his presence, and after coming to this forsaken land, he had believed himself to walk alone for all eternity…

She cleared her throat. "I've left you a fresh bowl of water and a towel, if you wish to clean up," She motioned toward the blind.

Loki blinked several times. "I did not think you a woman," he murmured. His finger still languidly traced the smooth lines upon the wood.

She laughed easily. "Go wash up while I make us something warm to drink. I need to get this rasp out of my throat, and the chill from my bones." She sat two teacups on the table and a bowl of something that looked to be honey.

Loki shivered.

She cocked a questioning eyebrow at him, and then set to her task, a slight smile curving her full lips. He stood but for a moment only lingered, watching her body move beneath the suede. Curvaceous hips caused the material to swish around her as if she wore the finest Asgardian silk. Long legs carried her across the floor...and as he watched her something primal stirred deep within him. Loki was surprised she had trusted him, a woman out here alone, and him a stranger in this treacherous land. But watching her thick well toned thighs move and stretch, he had a feeling that she could put up a hell of a fight with or without her bow.

Finally, the god turned away from the sight of this most interesting creature and disappeared behind the blind. A basin of clean water awaited him, and he splashed his face, rubbing hard at his skin. It had been ages since he had felt such a deep grinding urge….

Loki squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and banished the devilish thoughts from his mind by wondering about the mob in the clearing. His eyes traveled down, and upon seeing the ichor of diseased blood upon his leathers, he grunted in dismay. The lithe strong body was stripped quickly, and scrubbed harshly to remove any remnants of the foul smelling gits. The leathers were a mess, and Loki ran his tingling fingers across the clothing softly speaking an incantation. They shined like new.

Each successive use of magic wore on him, and Loki knew this day was done for his spells. He had to rest, to recover from the onslaught of hexes he had thrown at the lunatics…hexes that had not worked at all. Only physical violence had stopped them. Loki was mulling this over while he tied the laces of his breeches, when the sounds began to assault his ears again….low moans and soft gurgling cries came from outside the cottage, and then stopped almost as abruptly as they had begun. Loki furrowed his brow and pressed an ear against the wood of the wall, listening.

There was a quiet scratching, almost like a mouse in the walls, and he relaxed a bit, telling himself that he had only imagined those noises…perhaps it was the wind through the trees across the valley. He pressed his forehead to the wall, taking a steadying breath and then laughed at his own unease. There came a horrendous battering against the outside wall, followed by an outraged snarling. Loki sprang back with a startled shout, knocking into the blind and whirling around, eyes wild…stopping as he came face to face with her, and the most haunting eyes he had ever seen.

The woman swore softly, placing a hand on his bare shoulder to steady him. The inhuman sounds came again, this time at the door.

"Get into the middle of the room," she whispered.

Loki complied just as something huge plowed into the door. The heavy wood shuddered in its frame, and the hinges groaned, but held fast. "What makes such noises?" He hissed.

The woman did not answer. She had grabbed a small bundle, wrapped in gauze, and lit it aflame. Saying something that he could not quite make out, she tossed it to the floor, spat on it, and then smashed it with the heel of her bare foot. Indigo beams radiated out from under her toes and etched a pentacle around them, before beginning a luminous spiral across the stones and licking up the walls of the cabin. There was a mighty roar of annoyance…and quite possibly pain, as the walls began to pulse with vibrance. A deep growling could be heard throughout the house as the thing outside charged around and around the structure. Loki was reminded for all the world of the Hulk, growling and coming at him…tossing him like a doll…

The woman lightly touched Loki's arm, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. "It may get tad bumpy, but the magic will hold. Don't worry, I've got you."

Loki looked at her with his mouth once again agape, stuck on the last words she had spoken. I've got you.

The walls shook, as the beast outside screeched and barreled around the cottage, its enraged den reverberating through the house. It was everywhere at once. Loki did not realize it, but he was shaking, and the woman's grip upon him tightened. The cottage seemed to bow in on itself for a brief moment, as if made of rubber. She murmured, and the walls glowed brighter, a shade of violet, and a pained inhuman scream rattled the shutters on the windows. The basin fell over behind the screen; the fire glowed brighter in the fireplace, bottles rattled in the cupboard. The tea kettle whistled. Smooth spirals of comfort were being etched softly across the scarred skin of his back. Loki followed the sounds with his eyes…and then everything was still. A raspy panting could be heard at the front door.

"On with you!" she shouted. "There is nothing for you here but pain!"

One final ear splitting screech, and the underbrush began to crunch under enormous feet, tree limbs snapped as the thing loped away. She exhaled deeply. The glowing of the floor and walls became fainter until finally it was gone completely.

They stood still in the middle of the room for a time. Loki became aware of her hand upon his back tracing across his skin, aware that he was shivering in the half light of the room. He took a deep shaky breath thinking that perhaps he would just stay right here in this moment, somewhere between terrified and enthralled by her touch. Finally he turned toward her. She nodded and smiled, and with a final squeeze, she removed her hand and took the tea kettle from the fire.

Quietly she mumbled to herself. "Flaxen root. I must remember to go forage for that tomorrow. He knows you are here, and he is none too happy about it."

"Who?" Loki whispered. His brain was practically screaming at him. What in the Hell had Odin done?! Am I meant to die here?

"He is only known as The Keeper." She motioned to the chair he had nearly fallen asleep in upon arriving. "Sit, have some tea. There will be plenty of time for talk later. You've had quite a shock tonight, and I will wager that you haven't been here long. Just rest and drink deep."

Loki fell into the chair, letting the softness of the cushions sink in around him. The woman handed him a steaming cup of herbal tea, and he drank greedily, feeling the warmth sink into him again. He had not even realized how much the last few moments had chilled him to the core, and he pulled on his green tunic, shivering slightly.

"That is the effect he has," she said, watching him shudder. "The Keeper can make the strongest man feel weak." She went to the bed and brought him a woolen blanket. For a moment his pride resurfaced, and he vainly thought to protest, to tell her that he was no man…but better sense kept him from it. She seemed to sense this as he reached for the blanket.

"So tell me, Stranger, who were you before you came to this place?" She asked, refilling his cup. "I know it is an odd question, but this Hell changes people. We are not who we were before…" she paused and looked into her tea, swirling the cup around in her hand. She looked back up at him, her eyes asking him to understand. "No one is born here. We just end up here."

He nodded, remembering waking up in these disturbing lands. "I was a Prince who should have been crowned a King," Loki said, looking into her eyes for the first time. The irises were pale grey, surrounded by an outer ring the color of steel, and they almost appeared to shine silver. Set against her dark hair, they were haunting. He quickly looked away.

The woman laughed softly again, a musical sound, and Loki found himself smiling in spite of himself. "You find me amusing?" He arched a refined eyebrow at her.

"It's my eyes, isn't it?" she smiled. "Oh, it's alright, I know. My grandmother called them Spirit Eyes. She said that anyone with silver eyes was automatically connected to the realm of spirit, the world of the dead…" The woman broke off and took a sip of tea. Almost automatically the rasp in her voice cleared, and a voice as melodic as her laughter replaced it. "She told me that some may find my eyes unnerving, but not to worry. It would be part of my charms." She winked.

"My dear, she was an intelligent woman, for you are full of charm. Now tell me, who were you before you came here?" Loki asked, tearing the subject away from her stare. He longed to tell her that he did not find her eyes hard to look at, rather the very opposite…there was magic in them, and it stirred that primal part of him again.

"A child."

Her answer shocked him, and his eyebrows shot up. "You grew up… here?"

The woman nodded. "Ai. I was the granddaughter of a healer. She showed me all the old ways, and that's why I am here." Her face darkened. "When I was but a small child, I lost everyone close to me. I ran away into the snowy woods and would have died alone, but a great black dog saved me. He kept me warm with his body, and when the townspeople found me, they claimed I was a witch, and the dog my familiar. He ran away before he could be killed…I so would have liked to have thanked him for saving my life that night. As maddening as this world is, I find myself glad to be alive in it. Isn't that sad?"

Loki's eyes had widened, but she didn't notice lost as she was in memory.

Taking another sip of her tea, she continued. "I woke here, all alone, in the Other World. It is ironic that upon coming here, I actually did learn magic. I am now what is considered in my world to be a Green Witch," she sighed, her eyes clouding. "I found this cottage, and a book that taught me all I needed to know to survive here. To keep the Undead at bay-"

"You keep saying Undead?" Loki interrupted. "And you mean to tell me that you grew up in this wretched place all alone? How did you come to be here? How did you thrive?"

She chuckled and sipped her tea. "So many questions. Let's see…Yes, I have spent the last seventeen years here, alone. I have no recollection of how I got here. I fell asleep, I woke, and I was here. That is all I know about that."

"Was the same for me," Loki said. "And these Undead you speak of? The diseased people that meant to bring us harm?"

She shook her dark head, swallowing. "Not diseased, my friend. They are dead."

He snorted. "Dead? But they walk, they groan, they bite…"

"Hence Undead," she interrupted. "They are devoid of life. No heart beats in their chests, no fresh blood flows through their veins. The spark of life that keeps us all going is gone, and yet they move and attack at will. They are always hungry and always trying to find fresh meat to gorge on."

Loki looked disgusted. "How do you know this to be fact?"

She arched a black eyebrow at him. "I have lived here for most of my life. And because I have this." She went to a cupboard and pulled out a wrinkled leather bound book, tossing it on the table in front of him. "You asked how I thrived…this is the means to that. I found this book when I came here. It has been my saving grace, as it gave me all the information that I needed to live in this Hell."

"How-"

"Because it was written by a man named Stephan, who ended up here much the same way you and I did. He lived here, and presumably died here, and everything he learned, he wrote about in this journal. Every incantation that could keep me alive, every plant that could be utilized, every animal that could be killed and eaten and how to kill them, how to build the bow that I use, every creature who inhabited this rock, and every ancient place that was to be used or feared or avoided."

"The circle of stones," Loki murmured.

She nodded. "The Keeper is drawn by dark energy, dark thoughts." For a moment the man in front of her visibly tensed. "I would imagine," she continued, "that he was brought here by the dark energy inside the Circle. A demon lives there, one that can only be seen or spoken too when the moon is full. She is a Succubus according to Stephan's journal." She paused, looking troubled. "I am assuming when you walked into the circle she got quite…excited. There is a shortage of living men in these parts."

Loki rubbed at his forehead, choosing to ignore what she was insinuating. "And that summoned The Keeper." He was having a bit of trouble letting all this sink in.

The woman nodded. "Yes, I believe so. He probably tracked us back here."

"Have you ever seen him?"

She shuddered. "Yes, once. But he is gone now; the magic will keep him away for some time. It hurts him. I don't wish to discuss him further."

Loki sipped his tea, silently agreeing that he did not wish to learn more about this forsaken place tonight. His mind had been ripped apart enough for one evening.

"This is quite good," he smiled, tilting his cup.

"Thank you," she said softly, returning his smile. For the first time since they had met, she looked reserved, perhaps even bashful. "It's an herb that grows here which quite mirrors the chamomile that we have back home. The sweetener actually is honey; there are bees here that are enormous. Quite frightening actually, but if one covers themselves in that putrid mud that is everywhere in the swamps, then they seem to not notice when their honey is being pilfered."

He laughed a deep genuine laugh for the first time in years. "Min kjaere, I would so love to see you covered in mud and honey! " He winked at her and she flushed prettily.

"I will require a guide in this dark realm, and you are very adept at survival here. If you will assist me, teach me the ways of this place, I will in turn lend you all the magic that I am capable of. Once I was a great sorcerer, but my powers are limited in this realm. Still, I can be of use to you." His eyes danced impishly, and she blushed again. This delighted him to no end.

"I have seen you fight; I know you can be of help to me, and so I will lend you my knowledge of this world," she replied, staring into her cup, as her cheeks returned to their normal tone. There was a demure smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You are the first living person I have seen in near twenty years, I am not sure I would be able to just let you walk back into the woods. I have not had a decent conversation in a very long time. I may have acted aloof when we first met, but I was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. Seeing a living person…extraordinary! Besides, Stranger, I do not think you harmful to me."

"Ah, but it would be prudent of you to be wary," he said a mischievous smile on his lips. "For you have no way of knowing what my intentions are."

It was her turn to grin slyly. "Oh, but there you are wrong. There are many wards around this cottage. No one with the intent to harm me can enter here."

Loki looked around, nodding approvingly. "Clever girl! But I never said that I intended," he slowly cast his piercing green eyes back upon hers, making himself keep eye contact with her shining silver orbs, "to cause you any harm." He gave her the smoldering look that had once charmed so many Asgardians.

Her cheeks burned red again, and he sat back in his seat and chuckled. "I jest, my dear. You have good use of your magic as well as your aim with a bow, and that I greatly respect. Perhaps if you and I work together, we can find a way out of this wretched world."

Once again her eyes shone. He recognized the desperate hope there, for it was a feeling he himself had felt so many times. She wanted to escape…wanted it more than anything. "Yes….yes, of course."

"Have you a name?" Loki asked.

She looked startled for a moment. "I-I haven't heard my name spoken since I was seven years old," she whispered.

He nodded, understanding completely. "Perhaps then I should start the introductions. I am Loki Laufeyson."

"Loki," she whispered. "Like the god in my grandmother's books…"

He closed his eyes at the sound of his name leaving her lips, and silently begged the monster inside of him to lay still and be silent. It complied.

"Loki," she said again, louder this time.

He groaned inwardly.

"Yes, min kjaere?"

"Am I dead?"

His eyes flew open. "Dead?"

She ran her fingers through her long black hair. "For a while after I got here, I thought that I must have died and been sent to the Hell that some of the people in my town believe in. They said I would go there, since I was a witch, but I never believed in such a desolate place….then I came here." She paused and looked him in the eyes, her own wide with fear. "Is that what happened?" She whispered. "Did I die, and you have finally been sent to take me home?"

He shook his head. "Tell me your name."

She took a deep breath. "Seagen. My name is Seagen."

"Very fitting, for the name is as pretty as you," he smiled, relishing the blood that ran up her neck to her pale cheeks. "Nay, Seagen, you are not dead. You are very much alive, and our paths have crossed for a reason. You and I have a purpose, little one. Together we are burdened by glorious purpose."

Seagen cocked her head at his words and let them soak in. "I like that," she breathed. "I like the idea of being burdened by something glorious."

Loki grinned, his pearly white teeth shining in the candle light. "As do I, Seagen. As do I."