"Oh my god… Ouch." Max tried to inhale as Sif yanked the ties of the armored corset tighter, but almost immediately found it was an impossible task. "Maybe… Maybe not that tight."

"You wanted authentic," the dark-haired woman remarked, and in the mirror Max caught a hint of a smile on her lips. "Many Asgardian women combine femininity with masculinity for formal occasions."

"Yeah, well…" She trailed off, eyeing the outfit that had been thrown together for her over the last hour. "Maybe it doesn't need to be so authentic."

Sif stood back, her hands on her hips. She wasn't wearing a dress. No, as Max studied her in the mirror, she noted Sif looked as she always did in her fitted trousers, breastplate, and short-sleeved shirt. Perhaps the femininity, for her, came from the lines of kohl around her eyes. Similar to eyeliner, it made her dark eyes seem all that much blacker, and Max wondered if that might be the point.

But then again, she recalled reading that many men in eras gone by used kohl to mark up their faces, including their eyes, when the war drums sounded. Perhaps Sif had forgone any femininity in her outfit for the farewell feast.

"I can loosen these a little," the woman said after a moment of contemplation as she walked back and forth. Her gaze was riddled with scrutiny, taking in every inch of Max's appearance, before nodding and getting to work. As each tie was undone, Max could finally breathe again. Her breasts also existed again: the metal had practically flattened them into nothing before, but now they squished over the top of the armor. Less practical, mind you, if Max was using the armored top for any purpose other than the feast.

In battle she'd probably want her boobs as flat as possible—gotta keep them out of the way.

"Thanks for doing this," she said as Sif retied everything for her, the woman's fingers working incredibly fast up the back of the armored top. All she saw was a bob of Sif's head, a slight nod in acknowledgement to her words, and a part of her wondered if that was the best she'd get.

Still, even if Sif had been hesitant about helping, she'd done a damn good job at dressing her. Wrapped in a pine green dress that billowed to the floor, Max's arms were bare, but Sif had a black cloak for her to use to cover them. The armor was a polished silver, one of Sif's own, and fit Max's frame with near perfection. Jane would have struggled, being so much shorter, but Max figured any clothing she might borrow from Sif would fit: they were basically the same height, and thanks to all the calorie-rich Asgardian foods she'd been scarfing down, their waistlines were on par too.

The armor would have been more flattering if there had been a dip in the neckline. Instead, it cut straight across her body, hiding the beautiful neckline of the green dress beneath. But Max didn't mind. In fact, she almost preferred this look. The armored bodice slimmed over her hips, gathering the dress's material to her—and after that point, it trailed out in a way that was almost extravagant.

Max was surprised a dress like this was even in Sif's closet.

"Why did you come to me for help?"

She'd been waiting for the Asgardian to ask that question ever since she agreed to Max's request. With the farewell feast looming and Max's imminent departure chugging on forward like a freight train, she'd wanted to do something special for Loki before she left. Deep down, she knew just how desperately he wanted her to stay, and she appreciated that he hadn't pushed her to do something she just couldn't do. He'd been patient with their discussions about the future—in the end, they both just agreed that he ought to visit once a month, for a week, and they would go on from there.

It was the best compromise they could come up with, given the circumstances.

But she could see just how much it hurt him that she was leaving tomorrow. Rather than moping, he'd been uncharacteristically upbeat, which was off-putting in a way. He had been trying to make the best of a bad situation, she knew that, but a part of her almost wished they could have been sad together for a little while. Max felt it. In the very pit of her soul, she felt the unrelenting sadness creep forward, threatening to engulf her once and for all. She didn't want to leave him. Asgard… She could take it or leave it. Loki, on the other hand, was damn near impossible to let go of.

So, they'd spent every waking moment together over the last few days, and tonight, she wanted to surprise him by dressing as a traditional Asgardian woman. Just once, he could see her how Max suspected he might want to. Therefore, as the winter afternoon sun started to sink toward the horizon, Max told a little white lie to get out of Loki's room, where she was met by his servant Biorn in the stairwell. While Loki thought she and Jane were getting ready for the feast together, she'd instead asked the boy to take her to Sif's palace dwellings, knowing that if she wanted authentic, she ought to go straight to the source.

Cornering Biorn and getting him to do the little deed for her had taken a ridiculous amount of work. The boy hardly spoke a word to her, and she'd only been able to get nods and shy smiles out of him throughout all their scheming. A part of her figured Loki may assume a plot was afoot, but she'd been purposefully secretive about what exactly she was doing for the two hours before the feast would start, and Loki hadn't pushed for more.

"There are plenty of female servants who could have assisted you," Sif continued, tucking what Max assumed were the back lacings up and into the armor. She then stepped away, meeting Max's gaze in the full-length mirror they both stood in front of. Max shrugged, and Sif's frown deepened.

Ever since their first meeting, Max knew she wasn't Sif's favourite person. Even if she hadn't done anything directly to the woman, she knew her association with Loki had cast her in an unfavourable light, and there hadn't been much she could do to change that. Loki had once remarked that Sif was stubborn and hopelessly infatuated with Thor—two traits that had made the woman cold toward him, and, by extension, Max.

But she couldn't say all that. She couldn't smile and say, Well, you seem to hate me, so I thought this might be an okay bonding experience before we go. You didn't need to help me. No, she wasn't that socially inept, and that certainly wasn't her only reason for going to Sif. She wanted to know the woman. Thus far, all of her Asgardian acquaintances had been men, and something seemed off-balance about that.

"Well, I'm leaving tomorrow," she started, her cheeks flushing a dull pink when Sif raised a thin eyebrow, "obviously. Honestly, I kind of just wanted to spend some time with you. And I needed help with an outfit, because… a part of me just wanted to wear sweatpants."

All of her other pants—jeans, trousers, dress pants—were too tight now anyway.

Sif eyed her for a long moment, both in the mirror and in person, and then cocked her head to the side. "Why?"

"Because you're a pretty cool person," Max said without missing a beat. "You're a high-ranking female warrior in what I consider a vastly patriarchal society. I think that's just so… impressive. I made my academic career studying weaponry, and you live the part every day. I just… wanted to spend some time with you, away from Loki and the others. Genuinely so. With no ulterior motives."

And maybe a little part of her was sick of people disliking her simply because of her love interest.

Much to her surprise, a smile blossomed on Sif's thin lips, but the woman quickly tucked it away, leaving in its place the carefully neutral expression she'd had on since she opened her bedroom door and found Max on the other side. She'd been hesitant to accept Max's request at the time, perhaps unwilling to let her in to such a personal sanctuary. Sif's room reminded Max of Loki's: there were a lot of books, though definitely more swords and shields and daggers hanging all over the place. The woman had a thing for furs—they draped over furniture and across her conservatively sized bed.

Seeing her bedroom humanized the warrior. Max might have even gone as far as to say Sif's intimidation factor had diminished a little too, especially after agreeing to help Max with such a banal task as choosing an outfit for a party. It almost felt… normal. How many times had she and Pat sat for hours in one of their bedrooms, assessing the pros and cons of a particular outfit for a night out? Usually it was for Pat's sake, not Max's, but that was what friends did.

She wasn't naïve enough to think this one little event had made her and Sif friends. No, that would be ridiculous. All she wanted was to see Sif without a gaggle of men around. One on one. Face to face. Woman to woman.

And get an Asgardian outfit. That too.

At the moment, she felt like she'd accomplished what she wanted to with Sif. Tonight, she'd play one last drinking game with the Warriors Three. She'd drag Thor out for their final dance. She'd let Jane regale her with all the cool factoids the woman had picked up on recently.

And she'd fall into Loki's arms one last time, making him the most important of them all.

"Come," Sif said, breaking their silence as she gestured to a small vanity. "I have some clasps we can use for your hair."

Hiding what would have been a mammoth smile, Max gathered up the wispy fabric of her dress and hurried after the woman, eager to see what she had in mind for the rest of her outfit.

"Well, look at you."

Jane's eyes swept over Max as the pair approached one another, both without their men for the first time since… Well, since they arrived. Max grinned, twirling as she moved so the other woman could get the full effect of the Asgardian outfit. Sif had eventually found a hairband for Max, since the clips felt too heavy in her hair. It was metal, yet again, but it was beautiful and lightweight, with silver ivy branches curling around themselves to make a circlet.

While Max had gone for full Asgardian, as much as she could handle anyway, Jane opted for a blend of the two cultures. She wore a deep maroon dress with a high neckline, which was paired with her old leather jacket. They both appraised one another in silence until Max was less than a foot from Jane in the empty hallway, almost a full head taller.

"I figured Loki would like it," she admitted after a brief pause, smoothing her hands over the armor. "Do you think it's too much?"

"Probably if we were on Earth," Jane said, her arms folded across her chest, "but we're not. I think it looks nice."

Max smiled, pleased that she didn't look absolutely ridiculous. She'd like to think Jane was blunt enough to say if something about her outfit was off-putting.

"Thanks."

The pair turned and made their way toward the feasting hall in unison. A part of her white lie to Loki had been true. Yesterday, Jane had suggested they go to the farewell feast together, without Thor and Loki. So, a plan had been hatched to meet in front of Thor's room, which was closest to the hall. After all, she and Jane had spent so little time together since they arrived, and all the time they did spend together was with their men. Max wouldn't exactly call them close friends, but she appreciated that the other woman wanted some alone time with her. Maybe now they'd actually keep up with their correspondence—more than once every few months, anyway.

After all, how many other people could she find on Earth who'd gone through this experience too?

The palace was eerily quiet that evening. With the lack of merchants and traders and servants and noblemen moving about, the whole place felt cool and breezy, winter's chill seeping in front of the outdoors more now than she'd ever noticed before. Pulling the fabric tighter around her shoulders, she was happy Sif had loaned her a cloak for the night too.

"Are you ready to go home?" she asked, noting the way Jane's eyes still wandered the scenery with such fervor, with such interest. The woman let out a sigh, pursed her lips, and then shrugged.

"Yes and no, I guess." Her big brown eyes darted up to Max. "The data I've acquired here is… invaluable, and there's so much more to see. Thor promised to take me to Alfheim the next time of visit. Apparently the animal and plant life is just… spectacular."

Max bit back her smile: to others Jane's answer might have seemed cold, but it was the kind of answer Max had come to expect these days. Of course Jane wanted to stay so she could study an alien planet. Of course.

When the woman didn't offer the same question to Max, she answered anyway, needing to fill the silence. In the distance, the torches grew larger, the conversations grew louder. Each courtyard they passed suddenly had its fair share of drunken singers and sleepers, and the night was still young. Apparently they'd started the party without the guests of honour, but again, Max was hardly surprised. Asgardians were a multifaceted culture, but the tempting lure of strong ale and good food and catchy music was too much for most to resist.

"I'm looking forward to seeing my dad," Max said, and both women staggered to a halt when a couple reeking of booze cut in front of them. The pair stumbled out of the shadows of a passing corner, and then disappeared into a vacant hall, the woman's giggles encouraging awkward chuckles from Max and Jane. Once they were moving again, Max added, "But I don't want to leave Loki. It's tough."

Distracted by a stone carving in the wall, it seemed to take Jane a few moments to actually process what had been said. How Thor put up with the woman's fleeting attention was beyond her.

"But he'll visit, right?" Jane asked, not quite the sympathetic ear Max wanted. "I mean, you said at dinner yesterday that he'd visit—"

"He plans to," she said quickly, recalling their two minute conversation about their relationships as the men around them argued over which ale paired best with which meat. Loki, at the time, had been shouted down by Volstagg, who no one seemed keen to argue with. In those two minutes, she'd learned that Thor and Jane were considering a relationship pause—apparently the children discussion had only led to bigger issues.

Jane, to her credit, seemed better than Max would ever be if she and Loki had been in the same place. And maybe they were in the same place, but Thor and Jane were just better at assessing the situation. Even if they planned to maybe take a break, Max hadn't noticed a big difference in their interactions, what few she'd seen in public, anyway.

"It's not a fun spot to be in," Jane offered, and for a fleeting moment, Max detected sincerity in her voice. It was gone, however, when she spoke next. "Oh, I wish I'd brought my camera. There are so many pieces in the feasting hall I haven't captured yet. Did you know that some of the statues are linked to the stars? To the stars! How? They're hotter than anything if you get near them, but I figured…"

Max drew in a deep breath, Jane's voice slowly turning into white noise as they drew closer to the hall. It wasn't as though Max couldn't entertain the academic type. After all, she worked with them on a daily basis, whether she was at a school or in a museum. Still, she'd put up with Jane's factoid tangents since they arrived, and as the hallways became thicker with celebrating Asgardians, all she wanted was to find Loki and get the night started.

As she'd suspected all along, the night had indeed started—without Jane and Max. Never mind that a farewell feast was hosted for the people who were actually leaving. No, by the time she and Jane had reached the grand hall, it was packed full of rowdy Asgardians. Tables overflowed with food. Servants scurried around with sloshing pitchers of ale. Music chimed from every corner. The people they'd seen in the corridors, the ones who'd taken the party elsewhere, were mere specks compared to the festivities taking place before them.

Both women paused, and Max's mouth fell open as she took in her surroundings. Loki and Thor were nowhere to be seen, and she figured they'd need to shove their way through some burly characters before finding them.

"It's as if there's a celebration," Jane mused, her arms folded. Max caught the woman's eyes wandering everywhere, and she finally shook her head. "Like they're glad we're leaving."

"I think they're just happy to drink for free," she offered, not wanting to believe that she or Jane had influenced so many people since they'd arrived. Although she'd been to various feasts and gatherings with Loki, she barely communicated with anyone beyond Thor's inner circle. "I bet half of them don't even know why they're celebrating..."

Jane's unimpressed look made her sigh. Grabbing the woman's hand, Max set off into the crowd, worming her way through groups of chattering women and darting around drunken men. At one point, she thought she saw Odin, but her view was soon obstructed by other partygoers before she could confirm her suspicions.

The first recognizable person she saw, aside from maybe Odin, was Volstagg. Seated on a bench at a rare empty portion of the monstrous table, he seemed to be in the midst of a heated discussion with one of the female servants. He kept pointing to her, then to his drink, then to himself, more clarity etched across his face than she'd ever seen.

Must have been early in the night for him as far as drinking went.

Max tugged Jane toward him, hoping he could direct them to Loki and Thor. The Asgardian glanced up as they approached, and it seemed to take a long moment before recognition passed over his features.

"Lady Max!" he boomed once she was near, shooing the servant away and rising to his feet. Max's gaze followed the servant briefly, taking in the woman's quivering lip and hunched shoulders, but decided against commenting on it. This was her last night: she wasn't looking to pick fights with anyone, especially over the treatment of a servant. Even after all this time, she wasn't completely adjusted to the class system.

"Volstagg," she greeted, offering him the warmest smile she could muster amidst the chaos. Jane staggered to a halt beside her, shooting daggers at the man who whistled in their direction. "How are you—"

"Is that Sif's?" he asked, speaking over her as he went for the loose fabric of her dress. She resisted the urge to step away as he held the material between his fingers, and when he glanced up at her curiously, she nodded.

"I wanted to dress up for the last night," she told him. He must have been so used to seeing her in jeans or leggings and slouchy sweaters by now. "She was nice enough to help me with that."

His lips twitched, like he was holding back a smile, and he nodded as he straightened up. "Yes, I can see. Very kind of her, indeed."

"Have you seen Thor?" Jane asked. Max flinched as she asked the question right next to her ear, speaking much louder than normal to be heard.

"Looking for your men, eh?" Volstagg grabbed his chalice and beckoned for them to follow him. "They've been waiting for you… Yours," he nodded to Max, "is especially testy tonight."

She stopped the look of annoyance before it reached her eyes. Instead, she offered him a smile. "Well, neither of us are happy that I'm leaving tomorrow. I don't blame him."

Neither Volstagg nor Jane offered much in the way of an argument, though no one had ever tried to justify or condemn Loki's behaviour to her before. In fact, Loki tended to seldom ever come up in conversation with the others, something she'd only just realized in that moment. It was like the others chose to pretend he didn't exist. If they couldn't see him, he wasn't there—and therefore wasn't worth discussing.

A hot bolt of rage shot through her at the thought, but she swallowed it down. Not now. Not tonight. There was no point in fighting with anyone over anything if she was leaving tomorrow.

When they eventually found the pair, sequestered in a somewhat quiet corner of the hall, Max couldn't help but smile. All her annoyance dissipated the moment she saw Loki's face—and noted just how grumpy he looked. Seated backward on a bench, he leaned against the table, a drink in hand, and seemed not to be listening as Thor spoke to him. The blond Asgardian ducked down to address his brother, though there wasn't the usual puppy-dog grin on Thor's face that Max had come to expect.

Maybe she and Loki weren't the only ones dreading tomorrow.

Volstagg's voice boomed over the nearby crowd, his greeting to Thor dragging the Asgardian away from muttering in Loki's ear. Jane hurried forward to place a shy kiss on Thor's cheek, but Max didn't pay them much attention for long. Instead, she turned her gaze to Loki, holding back on approaching him until he saw her too. For a moment, he studied the hall, his brow furrowing to worrying depths, until their eyes met—and then everything about him just lightened.

He sat up quickly, setting his drink aside, his jaw going noticeably slack. Heat rushed through her again under his bewildered—but appreciative—stare, though it was hardly brought on by anger. No, the way he looked at her in that moment was beyond anything she'd ever experienced before. There was such noticeable affection in him that he was almost… soft.

When he finally stood, Max moved toward him, her fingers playing with the billowy fabric of her dress.

"Hi," she whispered, her voice barely heard over the dull roar of the hall, even to her own ears. Loki didn't stop until he was directly in front of her, so close that if she could draw in a full breath, they would have touched. As it stood, the armor kept her from the deep, gasping inhales that Loki's study of her threatened to bring out.

"So this was what you've been up to," he said softly. She nodded, biting down on her lower lip, and before she could respond, he brought his hand to her hair and played with the ends. "You look very beautiful."

"Thank you." Max swallowed hard, feeling him trail his fingers over the silvery ivy vines in her hair. "I wanted to dress up for the last night… Thought you'd like it."

"I do," he told her, his forehead suddenly resting against hers. "I really do."

Her eyes darted side to side, surprised. Their public interactions had always been, well, safe. Sure, he'd given her a piggyback ride up to his room, dancing around the occupants of the entrance foyer without a care. They'd held hands—maybe shared a kiss—but most of their really affectionate moments were when they were alone. The intensity of his stare when her eyes drifted back to his made her draw in a shaky breath. A hand fell to her waist, curved over both the metal and the soft fabric.

"Sif helped," Max blurted as he tipped her head back, and instead of a kiss, he gave her a smile. "It's all her… her clothing…" Flustered, she cleared her throat. "I didn't do it by myself, so you should thank her."

"I'll have to do that."

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and in that moment, all she wanted was to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. Hard.

But she didn't. Instead, she found his free hand and threaded her fingers around his, and then gave him a small peck on the cheek. He exhaled softly, his breath warm on her skin, then stepped back.

"Are you hungry?"

"Getting there," she said with a nod, their hands tightening their hold on one another. "What's for dinner?"

He pulled her close as he led her toward the table. All around them, drunken Asgardians seemed to think it was acceptable to stare blatantly at them, and Max fought the heat that rose to her cheeks.

"Anything you want," he replied, holding her hand up as she settled on the bench, every inch of him the mannered aristocrat his title dictated he be. Loki then crouched before her, easily ensnaring her gaze, and cocked his head to the side. "Tell me your desires, and I'll see that each one of them come to fruition tonight."

Max opened and closed her mouth a few times, sure that her blush was now a permanent feature, and then pressed her lips together tightly as he smirked.

"I-I think I'll start with fresh bread and that garlicy butter," she said, dancing around the real implications of his statement. "Maybe some of the really light, not super strong, red wine too."

Even amidst the noise and the chaos, it was like they were the only two people in the room when they looked at each other. She was going to miss him—terribly, horribly, depressingly so.

"Of course," Loki said. He gently placed his finger on her cheek, then let the digit slide down to her chin. From there, he tilted her face up as he stood. "Anything you wish."

Once he was gone, presumably off to find her what she wanted, Max placed both hands against her cheeks, feeling the heat of her blush against her palms. At the far end of the table, she caught Thor watching her, but when she smiled at him, he didn't return it. Oh he smiled, yes, but it didn't feel real. It barely reached his eyes.

And she hoped he knew she understood what he was going through.

Because she was there too.

Dressed in Asgardian finery, with a man who so obviously loved her ready to cater to her every whim tonight, Max was just better at hiding it.

Loki had never imagined Max in Asgardian attire.

Oh, sure, he'd wondered what she might look like in the local dress. After all, he'd seen Jane in an unfortunate mix of Midgard and Asgard on the two occasions that she'd visited the realm, and no one batted an eye. As much as he appreciated his lady love's tight trousers and slim-fit t-shirts, he would have preferred to see more of her… like this.

She belonged in armor. Max was a woman who delighted in weaponry, and had proved herself in battle—once. Even if the breastplate was borrowed from Sif, it was like it had been built for Max. So delicately did it cling to her body, so easy did she wear it. This was how it ought to be all the time, she and he, together in Asgard, Max as the warrior woman and he the scheming prince. The bards would write epics about their love story for years to come.

But songs sung and poems uttered around fires and in taverns seemed not to be their lot in life. Tomorrow, she'd leave him. Not because she wanted to—he knew that, and had known it from the start. The look in her eyes when they awoke that morning, so forlorn and downtrodden, had touched his heart in ways he thought unimaginable before. He'd done his best to keep her happy, even though on the inside, Loki felt the exact same way.

He would have preferred to be sad. He wanted to mope. A very large part of his life, his person, was leaving him. By this time tomorrow, with the feasting halls half as full as they were tonight, Max would be gone and he'd be alone—again. In a few weeks' time, he'd venture to Earth, like he promised, and by then, he could only hope that he'd have discovered some grand, brilliant scheme that would allow them both to get what they wanted—in Asgard, of course.

He'd considered uprooting her entire social circle and moving them to the realm. They'd be treated like royalty—he'd see to that. Her father, her niece, Garret and Tiffany and their brood… Max was an especially social young woman, but Loki knew there were only a handful of people in her life that she'd truly mourn should she be separated from them. The transition would be difficult, sure. Odin would never allow it, of course, but perhaps he could hide them from the old fool.

Set up a palace in the countryside. Create a village around it. Let all the little humans live there so that Max could be by his side.

It was an absurd notion, yes, but it was one of the few that seemed plausible at this point.

His eyes lifted when he heard her approach the table, laughing, accompanied by Thor from their last dance of the night. Oh, there could be more, but Loki planned to steal her away. Her last night was meant to be with him, though he'd decided to let her do what she pleased up to a certain point. She'd wanted to play games with the Warriors Three, which he obliged her as soon as the men started to set up the drinking cups.

For some reason, Max had wanted to thank Odin for throwing such a lovely dinner for her and Jane. Begrudgingly, Loki had escorted her to the old king, though neither he nor Odin said much during the interaction. Instead, Max talked, the men listened, and Odin offered her nothing more than a kindly smile—forced, if Loki had anything to say about it—before telling her to go enjoy the evening.

Lastly, she wished to dance with Thor. Their bond had blossomed since they were reunited, and while Loki wasn't especially thrilled that they'd developed a friendship, he let her do as she pleased tonight. They'd been out there for several songs by now, and Max returned to him, falling into his lap with a drunken giggle, a little sweaty, but quite obviously happy.

Thor, on the other hand, could only be described as morose, and had been so the entire evening. No one understood better than Loki what he would go through tomorrow when the women stepped onto the bifrost, but if Loki could put on a brave face, the golden child of Asgard could do the same.

"I think I'd like another cup of wine," Max said, leaning back and breathing the words in his ear. Her chest arched out as best it could in the armor, and from the corner of his eye, Loki noted the men watching her. Had she not belonged to him, had she not worn his ring on her promised hand, they might have confused her for a harlot. Her fingers wove through his hair as she reached back, her head tilted to the side to kiss his cheek.

"No," he whispered, hoisting her up to a standing position, then rising quickly himself. "No, no more."

She spun in place, a little shakily, and huffed at him. "You said I could have anything I wanted tonight."

Down the table, Fandral and Volstagg's argument, while incoherent, was reaching peak volume levels. He blocked them out. Instead, Loki cupped her face, capturing her full attention.

"I have something better in mind," he told her, stealing her hand and pulling her away from everything. He'd been obliging enough tonight—to all of them. Loki was done sharing her. This whole trip, he'd shared her more than he liked. He'd given her to them, to people who hardly acknowledged his existence simply because he was in Odin's bad graces.

No more. She belonged to him and him alone.

Hand-in-hand, he led her from the hall, not uttering a single word to anyone as he went. She traipsed after him of course—he gave her no room for anything otherwise. Anytime he glanced back, her smile was ever-present, so warm and full of love that it was hard not to stop and take her on that very spot. He resisted. Loki had learned long ago how to be patient, though it had always been difficult with Max.

From the feasting hall they went, bypassing drunken gropers in dark corners and clusters of singing men in courtyards. Servants shuffled out of their way, exhausted yet exhilarated from the night's big event, and none of the guards were at their post—not a single one. He'd made a note of which ones left, then broke them down into men he liked and loathed, those who would be useful to him and those that wouldn't. From there, sometime tomorrow, he'd tattle to Odin like he was doing the old fool a favour.

The ones he really wanted gone, however, were the ones who stood before the doors of the throne room. Technically, they were only supposed to be there if court was in session, or should the king take private counsel with his inner circle from the seat of all power. However, there were many occasions in which they stood guard, honouring the sacred room and the gold seat inside.

The seat he'd once occupied, a sceptre in one hand and an almost crown on his head. It was the very same seat he planned to fuck her on one last time, before she left. She had no idea. In fact, she'd been prattling nonsensical, drunken questions since they left the hall, though she quieted down when she undoubtedly realized where they were.

"Throne room?" She pointed to the wide-set doors, her eyebrows shooting up. Loki nodded, a devilish smile taking hold of his lips, and then willed the doors to unlock and part for him. They did, all on their own, and did so without making so much as a peep. Guardless. Empty. His.

He yanked her into the room, the polished gold columns and floors practically sparkling in the moonlight. It was a clear night, clear and cool, and he noticed the bumps that erupted across her skin—though he hardly thought they were caused by the chill. She collapsed into his chest, giggling, and he captured her lips with ease. Walking her back, he pressed Max to the doors, now shut and locked and sealed to everyone but them. Pliant in his arms, she moaned softly, her hands fisting in the material of his simple shirt.

Had he known she'd dress so finely, perhaps he would have matched her.

If he could, he'd have her in nothing but the armor—only he'd pull the ties at the back tighter, until her breasts all but spilled over the top. He'd run his tongue over them and nip the sensitive flesh when he had her, leave her marked and satisfied for her trip home tomorrow.

But this way was fine too.

His only complaint with her outfit was how much skirt he needed to navigate. Gathering the material, he pushed it all together and tucked it behind her back, pressing her harder so that he could feel her bare legs—his favourite feature.

She was easy tonight, matching his need with her want. The sounds she made, so desperate and heady, coming from the depths of her being, were nearly his undoing. Before they'd even started, he was almost finished. Loki pulled back and licked his lips, admiring the way she panted, noting the tremble of her body, the quiver in her lip.

He placed his finger at the base of her armor, the metal warm beneath his digit, and ran it up the entirety of its length, stopping when he reached her skin. Her arms hung loose by her side, waiting, and he knew she watched him with lust-filled eyes, hoping for more.

And he'd give it to her—more. Always.

From the tip-top of her metallic bodice, Loki's hand moved to her neck, grasping it firmly—not so firmly that he'd break her, however—before giving her an especially biting kiss. He felt her knees buckle as she gave in with a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered closed, her fingers trailed over his cheek.

Max squealed when he swiftly gathered her up and threw her over his shoulder.

"Loki!"

She probably didn't hear his chuckle, though she surely felt the sting of the slap he left on her behind. Her body squirmed in his grasp, and he felt her hands grab at the back of his shirt. The throne stood before them, at the top of the ceremonial climb, those thick steps deliberately obnoxious. Set above the whole hall, that damn seat was practically bathed in the light of the realm, a beam of starlight twinkling in from a strategically placed hole in the ceiling.

At the base of those awful steps, something clattered noisily against the gold floor.

"My headband!" Max's dismay almost sounded genuine, and he couldn't help but laugh—loud enough so that she'd hear this time. "I can't forget it… I don't want to lose any of Sif's things—"

"I can assure you that I won't let you leave it behind," Loki told her as he began to climb, taking her higher and higher until he stood before the seat itself. Rather than settling down, he swung her off his shoulder and placed her in the throne. Even his mother hadn't sat on the throne—not once. It was meant for the king of all the realms, and here he placed Max.

She swayed a little, the blood draining from her face, and he smoothed her hair back as he kneeled in front of her.

"Queen of Asgard," he announced, watching the colour flare right back to her lovely cheeks. "All hail."

"Does that make you my king?" she asked. Her lips soon found his palm, and he smiled as she kissed it.

"No… We're not married." He kept a teasing edge to his voice, head cocked to the side. "I'd be your consort."

Her lips pursed, as if hiding a glorious smile, and he enjoyed the way her tongue darted out to wet the bottom one.

"Like my mistress?"

"Something like that," he purred, sliding up and claiming her lips once more, in no mood to explain the complexities of royal titles at a time like this. Instead, he threw himself wholeheartedly into her, his long fingers finding their mark quickly. She gasped, a sound he swallowed whole, when he pushed into her, the slickness between her thighs ever the encouragement. Her taste was divine: the wine had soaked into her tongue some time ago, mingling with the natural scent he could breathe in all day. She writhed on his fingers, eventually throwing her head back and crying out, though he knew she hadn't reached a climax.

No, he knew her too well by now. He knew the way she gasped, the sounds she made in the throes of ecstasy. He knew the exact shade of blush that would coat her face and chest. He knew the way she'd let her body squirm and flail, milking every last pleasurable moment until she could hardly stand it. Loki knew his lover well, which was why he felt confident enough to take her so shortly after seating her on the throne of all the realms.

Pushing her dress up to her thighs, he rid himself of his bindings and pushed into her. Although met with some resistance, he went until there was nowhere left to go, until their bodies were practically a single entity. She whimpered his name, clutching at him as he lifted her body to him. He would have liked to have taken her like that, fucking her harder and harder into the throne until they were all but buried in its golden glory.

But he couldn't ever quite take her like he wanted. No, even though he forgot to watch himself, he was always aware that he could shatter her should he ever truly lose himself. So, rather than doing what he wanted, he switched their positions: he sat on the throne, and she straddled him. Still buried deep inside of her, Loki gathered her hair in one hand and encouraged her hips to move with the other.

And, oh, did she move. Her hips bucked back and forth, building a steady rhythm, a familiar pace, until she finally cried out again, this time taking on the heated blush, emitting the stuttering gasp. He met her hips with a firm thrust, rising to her fall each time, taking her and treasuring her and remembering her. Every detail. Every sound. Every touch. They'd be etched in his memory forever, for this would be the last time, in quite some time, he'd have her in Asgard.

The longer they moved together, the more he realized she was spent. Her movements softened, her kisses weakened, and she fell against him as though she needed him to hold her up. Arms wrapped around his neck, she kissed him slowly, lazily, mouth slated over his, her tongue the only part of her that was still daring. In that moment, he brought about his own finale faster than he would have liked, though he knew it was what she needed.

But he finished roughly, harshly, a hand in her hair and teeth on her neck. When they'd both calmed, their breathing coming back down from thunderous pants to breathy whispers, he noticed her eyes well with tears. She shook her head when she met his gaze, and he cupped her cheek.

"I know," he whispered. "I feel it too."

She nodded with a sniffle. "I know."

They stared at one another, a soft smile on both of their lips, and Max finally gave a little laugh. He couldn't join her, but he could accept her hug, her need for warmth and affection. He held her for a long time after, not wanting to let go, not wanting to share her again with the worlds outside the throne room.

Because by tomorrow night, when the same moonlight covered that golden throne, it would all over.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Welp. And so begins Act Two.

I finally decided on a title for the sequel to this story. It sort of came as an epiphany while I was driving to work and blasting the radio. The perfect song came on for Max and Loki, and then it was kind of a done deal. I won't give the title away, not until I'm closer to the end of this story, because it will be a HUGE spoiler to everything in the next story, from the tone to the potential outcome—everything. V. excited.

I don't have too much to say about this chapter. I wanted to do a Max/Sif scene because it seems like a lot of readers hate Sif at this point, and I wanted to do a little something more between the ladies before Max heads for home.

Loki's POV was my absolute favourite scene to write. I had a splendid time combining his love for Max and angst over what's about to happen, so I hope you all enjoyed it too!

I'm down to a single freelance project and reduced hours at work, so, sad for my bank account, yeay for my writing time. I have it in my planner to plot out the next chapter for this story next week, and potentially get started on it a few days later. Anyone who wants to follow the progress of my updates can do so on my tumblr. All updates are tagged as fanfiction updates, or the long winter. Links to that goodness are on my profile page here.

So. I guess that's that! See you all soon, hopefully! It's going to get real cray real fast in the next chapter.