A/N- So… thank you for the awesome feedback, you guys honestly keep me writing like a trooper despite my uni books begging to be read…!

Also, time between updates will be a teensy bit longer than usual- I finally got a job, and have a ton of uni work to do. I'm determined to stick this story out though, never fear, and absolutely won't leave it hanging!

Chapter 7

"Your highness, I can't find Darcy anywhere," Sif bowed to the tired Queen Frigga, who was busy saying her goodbyes to guests.

"With her residing in Loki's room, and Loki returning from his imprisonment, I didn't have chance to tell her she has a new room prepared for tonight outside the castle. She just disappeared- I should go and –"

Frigga cut Sif off with a sly smile. "Lady Sif. Leave her be."

"Pardon, my Queen?" Sif was dumbfounded, almost forgetting her royal manners in her confusion.

Frigga turned her gaze from the departing guests and chuckled. "I know what I'm doing, Lady Sif. Leave her be. Besides, Fandral is waiting for you."

Sif blushed heavily and began to stammer. "V-very well. Goodnight."

Frigga brushed through her golden hair, the sunrise casting a beautiful glow around her lavishly decorated Asgardian chamber. She thought back to the conversation she had with her husband before Thor's wedding. She had been sat in this exact spot…

She looked into her mirror, seeing her husband's conflicted look in the reflection behind her. Her voice was a desperate plea, whilst his expression became stony and cold.

"Dearest, you must take heed of what I say. Like you, everything I do is for a reason." She turned in her chair to face him, her voice full of anxiety. "You know what I saw, you know what must transpire." She touched her husband's face lightly, but he turned and shrugged away from her touch.

"You cannot interfere. That is a rule you created yourself. You said you wouldn't throw the future into dismay by your hand."

Frigga sighed heavily. "It is a nudge to the right direction. He's dancing on a liminal line between redemption and destruction*.I will not have him destroying himself again."

"It is not our concern. You know how he is. He will break everything in the end."

"We broke him." Frigga admitted calmly, as she had done for centuries.

At this, Odin turned to leave. Before he shut the door behind him, he said in a grave voice. "I will not have you playing matchmaker. The boy chooses his own path." He closed the door, leaving Frigga alone with her thoughts.

She knew her husband was correct, though she had still interfered. Last time she had tried to save her son, he had died, just as she envisioned. Just as he had, too, in his depressive dreams. Even in the aftermath of such a happy event of Thor's wedding, she wept bitterly in helplessness.

Loki woke, feeling the unfamiliar warmth of a woman's body beside him. He looked down at her sleeping form, which had snuggled into his arms at some point during the night. Half of him wanted to pull her close, feeling the urge for human contact he'd put off for so long and denied he ever had. He swallowed down the fondness he was quickly developing for weak mortals. He meant to rule them, not the other way around. But he still found himself trying to remember the last time he'd woken like this. His mother had held him in his prison cell, but that had been different. He'd had many women in his bed in the past, but it had been a while since he last felt anything but revulsion for another being.

He brushed back a strand of her hair with a tender touch even he was surprised by. She didn't even stir- dead to the world. Sighing heavily, he pulled away from her, and got up to shower and dress. He noticed, with annoyance, she'd left her things lying haphazardly around his bathroom; a shampoo bottle, a pink razor, her make up bag and toothbrush. The mortal had definitely made herself at home in his room, he noted with dull annoyance tinged with amusement.

When he got back, she was still dozing. How long did mortals need to sleep for anyway? Her bare leg hung out of the bed endearingly, her mouth half open in a childlike notion, making her look much younger than she already was. Probably drooling into his pillows, he thought with yet another pang of annoyance.

He noticed her bag beside the sofa, something he had not noticed last night when he came in. Her clothes were in a heap by the bedside, the green dress she had worn last night crumpled on the floor. He went to hang it up- he couldn't stand mess.

"Loki?" Darcy woke up and stretched, feeling the uncomfortable ache of her muscles and head after a night drinking. She sat up, propping herself up on the pillows. Holy crap, this hangover was bad. Her head was pounding, and her body felt fragile, as if she'd been beaten up. Her voice was croaky and her throat felt like she'd swallowed razorblades. She'd deserved it, she thought unhappily. Just one more drink- really?

She noticed her dress in Loki's hands. "What're you doing with my clothes?"

A giggle escaped her lips, followed by a hefty cough. "I knew it! If you want to try my dress on, all you have to do is ask." She pictured Loki in her green dress and laughed even harder, her chest moving painfully with each intake of breath. He looked at her blankly, and she took a moment to admire his wet hair. The strands that hung messily over his face made him look younger, more vulnerable. It hadn't flicked out yet; it was longer than she had thought it was. He put the dress back on the floor in a pile.

With a flick of his fingers, a glass of water appeared in his slender hands. "Here." He said, feeling slightly disconnected from his own actions. He watched in amusement as she took it with a word of thanks, gulped it down in one and licked her lips. He looked at her a split second too long, watching her small tongue flick over her full lips, mesmerised by the motion.

"How do you still do that?" She asked, perplexed by his magic as she passed the glass to him. He sat himself on the side of the bed and took the glass, dissolving it within a second.

"They didn't take my magic from me, if that is what you mean. Just my mind." He was just about to get up when he felt a warm touch upon his arm.

"What is the matter?" He said, looking at her intently.

Darcy swallowed, cursing her impulsive actions. Just because they'd slept beside each other last night didn't mean she was fond of him. She was tired, and drunk, and she'd had no other place to sleep. She felt no pull toward the God other than his stunning attractiveness, and still had to keep reminding herself he was the bad guy. But she still wanted him to stay, to talk to her. It was frustrating. The war in her brain was making her head hurt even more than it already was.

She gazed back at him, swallowing down the headache and the intense stabbing pain in her abdomen. She just wanted to curl up in a ball with a ton of painkillers. But when she locked gazes with those vibrant green eyes, her mind went blank and she felt herself biting her lip in frustration. Stop it, Darcy. Stop it.

"Stop it, Darcy." Loki's voice mirrored her inner thoughts and she gasped. He couldn't read minds, could he?

"What?" She said in a panic. "Stop what?"

"This." He reached out with his thumb and touched her lip lightly where she had bitten it. "Your… lip." So he wasn't a mind reader, Darcy thought in relief. But still her pulse stayed the same, a heavy, fast thrumming that he could probably hear through her skin. He didn't know what he was doing when he reached out to her. His thumb traced her now open lips, her quivering breath quickening as he filled the space between them, sliding up the bedside gracefully.

"Darcy." He whispered lightly, so quiet she had to strain her ears to hear her name passed through the lips of the troublesome God of Mischief. It was uttered more as a question than anything else. But she didn't pull away when his hand cupped her face, his fingers brushing her hair, his lips inches apart from hers. In fact, she'd leant in to meet him eagerly. Their lips brushed with a light hesitance, Loki's fingers gently brushing down her neck, pulling her toward him. Darcy suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach, causing her to reel back from his touch. She sharply pulled away from him, his face full of confusion and hurt until he saw her grasp her stomach, her face scrunched up with pain.

"Sorry. Sorry." She managed to gasp. "Must be the wine."

Knowing full well that this was not her usual 'hanging' state, she went to get up to go to the bathroom. Loki watched silently as she untangled herself from the covers, her cheeks turning bright red when she realised she wasn't wearing any pyjama bottoms. He, surprisingly, wasn't looking at her bare legs. He was observing her face, which, despite her blush, was a deathly pale, her eyes bloodshot in spite of her long sleep. Sweat began to sheen over her pale skin. She looked frail for a mortal.

"Darcy?" He started, when she took a total of two steps and suddenly crumpled to the floor with a gasp. He managed to catch her before she hit her head on the floor. He had thought she was just suffering from a hangover, but she looked worse than that.

"Darcy?" He said again, his breath quickening in panic. Her body slumped, lifeless against his arms. "Darcy. This isn't a funny joke."

He felt desperation colour his voice, something he hadn't heard for a while now. She was hardly breathing, a small wisp of breath escaping her full lips. Her skin was pale and cold. "Valhalla." He swore, checking her pulse. It was there, but barely. Lifting her up with ease, he felt her body go limp in his arms. He put her body back on the bed with a steady hand, only stopping to cover her bare legs with a woollen throw.

Was it he who had done this to her? Some sort of curse that meant everything he touched died? He felt a sudden pang of what he thought was guilt. Feeling eyes on his back, he turned to find himself under the confused stare of Sif, who, with no answer at the door, had let herself in to assess the damage of last night's command from Queen Frigga. She stood frozen, with a horrified look on her face. He couldn't help himself when he yelled at her, causing her to flinch back. "Get help! Now!"

It took a minute for medical aide to get to his room, led by Sif and followed by Fandral, who'd been woken by the noise and commotion, following Sif like a lost puppy. Sif took another look at Darcy's lifeless body on the bed and went for Loki, who had a light hand on Darcy's forehead, eyebrows furrowed. She pushed him hard against the wall, blade in hand.

"What did you do to her?!" She yelled.

Loki looked defiantly into her eyes, feeling the blade against his neck draw blood. "Nothing. I assure you, these are not my workings." He said it coolly, his gaze flicking to the medical aides who were no doubt trying to stabilise her condition with their magic. Sif saw a flicker of concern in his eyes when he glanced Darcy's way, remembering the way he'd screamed at her for help. She let him down with a sigh.

"You." She pointed her blade at him. "I will end your life if I find out you have lied to me."

"You can join the long list of people who want me dead, then." He muttered. He didn't even look at her. He strode over to the medics. One of them turned around at his presence and flinched as he nudged him out of the way. He put one hand on her forehead and another on her stomach, concentrating hard. The medics looked at him confused as to whether they should intervene. One began to protest when Loki muttered something under his breath.

"Nerium Oleander." He said in relief. So it had not been his fault, unless his lips were poisoned.

"Sorry?" The flinching man asked Loki.

Loki sighed and spoke louder, taking the hand off her stomach and forehead. He spewed out words like he was reading from a textbook, never looking up at the medic. "There's traces of the poison, Nerium Oleander in her body. From the dogbane family Apocynaceae on Midgard. It's toxic in concentrated doses and causes a racing heart, seizures and…" He looked down at her lifeless body. "Can put mortals into a coma. She must've been poisoned. It is too late to use magic to revive her; the poison is slow reacting and has been in her system for too long."

"How do you know?"

He let out an angry huff and snapped, looking at the man with a scowl. Was this man a medical aide or an idiot? "Do you think these books are here for decoration, you ignorant fool?! The answers are there. My magic does the rest."

They stood there, gaping, until Darcy's body jolted, her face contorting before slumping back into the bed. Sif jumped forward. "Take her to a healer. Now. Stabilise her condition. I will go notify Jane."

Although he was angry, his mind was asking 'who' and 'why' rather than 'what'. Loki put a hand on Sif's shoulder as they lifted Darcy out of the room and disappeared down the hall, wrapping her body in the cover Loki had put over her.

"You think Thor and the mor- Jane are still here? They left for Midgard early this morning with Jane's parents." Thor's wife was now one of them, an Aesir, and could no longer be referred to as 'mortal' like he wished to.

Fandral snatched Loki's hand off Sif's shoulder. "What happened?" Fandral looked at him with the same suspicion as everyone else.

"Fandral…" Sif sighed lightly, remembering her conversation with Queen Frigga last night.

"No, Sif. He knows exactly what happened here."

Loki spoke calmly, though he wanted to yell at him. "Where is my gain through murdering a harmless mortal here, under Thor's protection?"

Fandral remembered Darcy's clothing when she was carried out, her bare legs hidden under a blanket. He saw the dress crumpled on the floor - it all came together in his mind. "She didn't come here willingly. You made her come here. You- you-"

Fandral looked at him with disbelief. Sif went to open her mouth, to explain to him that this was all a mistake, but Loki (surprisingly) beat her to it. He closed his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. His eyes flicked open and focused on Fandral. Unleashing his barely concealed anger, he spat furiously at him. "I did not touch her." He turned to leave, when he suddenly remembered what Darcy had told him when she came to his cell.

'If they get it wrong, correct them- don't hold back on details. They all think you're who you are now because you haven't bothered to correct them'.

He took a deep breath, looking at Fandral coolly. "She came here, drunk, of her own accord and fell asleep. I hadn't been notified someone else was residing in my quarters during my incarceration, and was unaware. I did nothing more than humour her. She woke and collapsed."

With that, he grabbed a random book from his shelf and left for the medical wing to assess Darcy's condition, leaving Fandral glaring angrily in his direction.

"Sif. Why do you look so relaxed? He abused a guest, and now she's being stretchered off, comatose! Isn't there something there that unsettles you?"

Sif looked at Fandral, a soft, reassuring expression on her face as she took his hand in hers. "I spoke with Queen Frigga about the… double booking and the disappearance of Darcy last night. She told me to leave her be. I know she must have plans concerning Darcy, so I did not fight it. There was no abuse, never fear."

Fandral's face turned from furious to astonished in a matter of seconds. "So Queen Frigga arranged this?"

Sif nodded silently, gazing at the slender figure disappearing down the corridor.

As Loki descended the steps from his room to the medical wing, two at a time in his haste, he wanted to curse Darcy. His 'new start' had been marred on Day One, and worse- Thor and his new bride would be back in a matter of days, and Thor would no doubt be furious.

He stopped on the stairs, reliving the moment the smile slipped off her face and she crumpled to the ground. Anybody else, he would've been calm and collected, but with Darcy… Had he panicked? He'd definitely been through that before- he'd seen his own father fall into his Odinsleep, he'd seen tons of people die, most by his own hand. Why did it bother him so much? The feel of her when he woke up with her next to him this morning had confused him. That tender touch of her hair, that brush of lips had been his downfall – a mistake he'd vowed never to make again. He had confused her for someone that mattered. He had confused himself for someone that mattered.

Loki reached the medical wing and, with his book clasped tight in his hand, entered hesitantly. It was a huge room lined with beds and curtains, the ceiling as high as a Midgardian church's. Open windows let a light breeze in, ruffling his damp hair that had started to curl out at the ends. He passed a few sickly looking patients sleeping, but aside from that, the place was empty. Aesir didn't get sick often, and wounded only in battle. The medics began muttering upon his appearance, but didn't stop him as he looked for her.

He finally saw her lying on a bed at the end of the hall, a drip in her arm and a tube in her nostrils for nourishment. He frowned. Midgardian medicine was apparently keeping her alive. Wondering vaguely where they had gotten the medicine and equipment from, and what it was running on, he dragged a chair up to her bedside and buried himself in his book. Every now and then, he stopped reading about the barren wastelands of his birthplace to glance over at her vacant expression. With a sigh, he looked back at the worn paper in his slim fingers, wondering why he was here if he didn't care whether she lived or died.

Loki sat, book in hand, trying to understand the situation. It was not him that had killed her, and Darcy was a harmless Midgardian- no one would have quarrel with her, would they?

His mind went to the poison he'd found in her system. It was ineffective against Aesir, which meant whoever poisoned her was going for her kind directly, no mistakes there. Loki couldn't fathom who would want to kill her, much less why. Darcy had been the only Midgardian in Asgard, with Jane now fully Aesir. Part of him thought it was an accident, but he'd learnt the hard way that accidents don't just happen when he was involved.

Two nights he sat there, unmoving. He used his magic to exchange books, and to summon food and drink, so he never had reason to leave the medical wing. Sif came and went with the warriors, but never stayed long because of their duties. Loki didn't talk to them anyway- he ignored their presence, and they returned the favour. At least he could read here peacefully.

She looked sickly, he couldn't deny that. Darcy's condition had been stabilised, but her porcelain skin had a dark, sickly hue to it. He smiled nostalgically into his book as he remembered the first time they'd met in his cell. 'You look like shit' she'd said. Loki couldn't help noticing how the tables had turned. He reached out to brush her hair back again, staring at her full lips; an absentminded motion that he hardly was barely conscious of doing.

Sif and the Warriors stood at the entrance of the hall, in the corridor with Frigga. "Two days he's been here, you say?" The Queen asked, her voice low.

Sif sighed. "He hasn't left her bedside."

"Have you notified Lady Jane and Thor?" Fandral asked quietly, swallowing down his accusations. He- and the other Warriors- had discussed in depth about how Loki must have been doing this for show. He would give the impression of a sad puppy and Asgard would drop its suspicion toward him. Sif had surprisingly stayed quiet during these sessions, a confusing notion that Fandral and the others took for doubt and uncertainty.

Frigga nodded. "I thought I would allow husband and wife a peaceful few days. They are making their way back to Asgard as we speak, though there is nothing they can do."

"It is a matter of patience," Volstagg said quietly.

Frigga watched as the Warriors bowed and left her. She looked at her son from the entrance, taking guilty pleasure in the fact he seemed to care about something for once. She'd seen this scenario in her visions, but seeing it acted out in reality made her heart tighten and a soft smile colour her face despite Darcy's condition. Without a word, she retreated back down the corridor.

The Warriors Three took in the sight of Loki still by her bedside later that day and scowled. Sif trailed behind, now a neutral party in the 'Loki depreciation club'-where Darcy was concerned, anyway. Loki saw them enter and was ready for an argument, but it didn't come. Instead, they moved to let Thor and Jane through, who had finally returned to Asgard.

Jane, tears streaming down her face, lifted her skirts and ran the length of the hall, burying herself in Darcy's shoulder, taking her hand. Loki watched on in mild fascination. Jane looked up and noticed him there for the first time. "What did you do to her?!" She screamed at him, mirroring Sif's accusation just two days ago.

Loki closed his book with a soft snap, suddenly sick of people's assumptions.

"It was not my doing." He said calmly, looking into her brown eyes that seemed to glow with immortality. Thor's hand was on his shoulder, and Loki braced himself. He expected him to hit him, or throw him across the room. Instead, he patted his brother's shoulder affectionately.

"You should get some sleep, brother. You look most unwell."

Loki shrugged off the casual touch of his brother and watched Jane as she turned to her new husband with an incredulous look. Even though they had talked and resolved a few issues at his wedding, Loki was still not fond of his 'brother'. His anger and frustration had been simmering for two days now, and Loki found himself overly annoyed at Thor's kind words.

"I have been unwell the past two years, brother." He spat. "And yet I did not see you so concerned when I was rotting in a cell, or when you were sewing my lips together or- " Loki stopped and gasped at his own outburst and painful memories. Loki's fingers went to touch his lips protectively, then curled into fists by his sides. Thor looked at him with a soft expression, despite Loki's anger.

"Broth- Loki." Thor corrected himself, knowing it would further anger him. He opened his mouth but couldn't find the words to comfort his much changed brother. Thor saw the pain in his eyes, instead of the anger in his tone, and sighed heavily, putting a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder instead. Finally, the words came to him after a long silence. "You left me no choice."

"I know." Loki stood up and silently left Darcy's bedside, glancing at her comatose form briefly, unsure of where he would go next.

A/N:

Aghh, I'm missing Darcy already, and it's only barely been one chapter since she's been out, even when things were getting interesting! My advice, don't worry about it. I'm not, because I have half an idea where this story is going now, wooo, me!

*If you're thinking that this line:

"He's dancing on a liminal line between redemption and destruction."

Was too intelligent/eloquent for me, then you are rude. But correct! They are nothing other than Tom Hiddleston's words, from an interview or something… I read them online and instantly wanted to rephrase them (I couldn't), or fit them in somewhere (I did) because they were perfect in describing Loki's character, as Tom usually is!