Star-Crossed (11/?)

Authors: cincoflex and starhawk2005

Fandom: Marvel's Avengers

Date: Jan 2014

Pairing: Loki/ OFC

Rating: Adult (18+).

Summary: Star finds a way to save Loki, but as a consequence they end up on Asgard. Will Odin make sure that Loki and Star never see each other again?

Disclaimer: Don't own Loki or any other Marvel character, though my New Year's Resolution is to scrape together enough life savings to buy Loki. True fact! ;)

Star drops the jar with a gasp, instinctively moving to cover herself. Then she remembers she's wearing lingerie, while Loki is basically naked. She yanks a fur from the bed and drapes it over his waist and backside, then turns back to the guards angrily.

They're pointing some very long, very sharp weapons at her and Loki, but something in her - a dwindling holdover from her domme mindset, perhaps - makes her bark: "How dare you interrupt? Leave us this instant!"

For a moment the guards look uncertain, and Loki is fleetingly amused by that, but his immediate concern is for the cuffs and muzzle, both of which are impervious to magic. He turns his head and glares, managing a wordless spell that raises the door and flings it against them, knocking them back into the hall. Twisting, he shoots a look at his pet, hoping she has enough of her wits about him to free him before the Regent enters.

Star blinks. Better let Loki free, idiot! But her heart is pounding and her fingers fumble with the lock of the cuffs. Before she can get them undone, there's a twang and something cuts a burning path across her forearm. Star snatches her arm against herself with a gasp, clutching the palm of her other hand over the wound, staring wide-eyed at the arrow now sunk into the mattress.

She can't help freezing like a deer in the headlights as another archer pushes into the room, an arrow aimed right at her.

"I told you not to harm the Lady Sigyn, fool!" the Regent's angry voice fills the bedroom as he steps in and surveys the damage. His eyes narrow and his tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he takes in what Star is wearing. Something dangles from his right hand, a chain strung with a large black stone. Impossibly, it seems to be glowing, but emitting darkness instead of light, and Star's head hurts just from looking at it.

Next to her, she's aware of Loki trying to speak behind the muzzle, and motioning as much as he can with his bound hands, but nothing happens. She wants to let him free, but the archer's bow never wavers, and the guards are getting to their feet, a few of them pointing their weapons at her again.

The Regent tears his gaze from her and looks to Loki, his glare a combination of interest, anger and envy. "So sorry to interrupt your bower games, but theft is a serious matter, particularly from me, Loki."

Loki glares back, uncomfortably aware of his vulnerability, and hoping Star has the good sense to stay quiet. Privaldr isn't a bright man but he can be dangerous unless distracted.

The Regent laughs. "Oh dear, not able to answer my questions at the moment? Perhaps a different venue will help. How convenient that you're not quite as fleet-footed as usual. Guards, take him far below." To Star he gives a bow, his glance lingering on her. "Lady Sigyn, I will be back shortly to speak to you and offer my . . . comfort."

They drag Loki away, and Star can't read the expression in his eyes-fear? rage?-but whatever it is doesn't make her feel better. Why can't he do anything? He could cast magic before . . . Her eyes flick to the stone in the Regent's hand again.

Noticing the direction of her gaze, the Regent preens. "A gift from a powerful ally," he explains, raising the stone, and Star winces and turns her eyes away again. "It chains Loki's magic most effectively." His eyes sweep slowly down her body again, and Star grits her teeth, trying not to shake.

"Do not be afraid, Lady. I find myself in need of a new consort, and you are most pleasing to the eye." He reaches to touch her cheek and it's all Star can do to not flinch aside. "But sadly I have some other matters to attend to, first. I will return as I may."

With that he sweeps out of the room, the guards following after. Two of them lift the door and prop it back into its frame, but not before Star sees the guards now standing at attention outside.

She's trapped here, at the mercy of the Regent. And Loki is God knows where, apparently helpless.

"Oh shit, oh God, what l am I going to do?" she mutters, panicky and trembling. Why the hell did I think that visiting Loki on enemy territory would be a good idea?

But that thought reminds her of something. Maybe she has an out after all. She glances at the door and then scrambles to scoop her Earth clothes up from the chair. She races to the bathroom and locks the door behind her, pulling her jeans and shirt on quickly over the lingerie, also her socks and shoes.

At least she won't look like she's too eager to join forces with the Regent, if her plan fails.

The bathroom presents her with a soft cloth, and she winds it around the bleeding wound on her arm. It will do for now.

She digs her cold hand into her jeans pocket. Please let it be there still, please let it-

Her fingers touch the Snakkestein and close tightly on it. Thank the God of Mischief. She'd slipped it into her pocket at school this morning, after thinking to herself that seeing Loki in this situation might be more than a little dangerous, and that maybe having the stone on her might be a good idea.

She pulls it out now, hoping that the range of the Regent's black gem is limited. And also that Loki wasn't lying to her about the powers he 'programmed' into the Snakkestein.

Closing her eyes and concentrating as hard as she can, Star speaks aloud the name of the one she wants to summon.

"Thor Odinson."

Loki forces himself to relax. He doesn't care about his nudity; he's got nothing to be ashamed of certainly, and judging by the looks both the guards are giving him it's clear that they are impressed by his attitude and . . . glamour. Privaldr is perturbed however, and his jealousy makes him shove Loki by the shoulder more than once as the procession heads to the dungeons.

Once there Privaldr pockets the stone and motions to the guards to let Loki go; he tosses his hair out of his eyes and turns, proud even with the muzzle on.

The Regent eyes it and smiles. "I knew you liked your mating in strange ways, Loki Laufeyson. A muzzle, eh? With your consort holding the whip hand I'll wager. How perverted. How foolish. Now you're without clothing or magic and I will have back what is mine. If not, well then you can stay here in the dank bowels of my hospitality while I go comfort your consort. Let us be reasonable men. Give me back my map."

"Oh," Star says, a little stunned. Wow, he's . . . a big guy. Loki's magic had worked, and quickly. There had been a flash of green light, and now Thor is standing in front of her, his face and hair damp with water, barefoot, and naked except for leather pants with silver studs. What's with Asgardians and leather?

He looks around, confused. "Where am I? What is the meaning of this?" He turns to her, studying her closely.

Star shakes her head to clear it. "I'm sorry. You're on Niflheim. I'm also very sorry to have interrupted . . . whatever you were doing."

He cocks his head at her, even more curious. "But you are not of Niflheim."

Star can't help a short laugh. "No, I'm human. And I'm-" she pauses, wondering what will get her into the least trouble. 'Loki's lover'? She has to decide quickly, finally settling on: "-Loki's friend. He's in trouble, and he needs your help." She braces herself in case Thor gets angry. Things between him and Loki are not exactly amicable.

If anything, though, poor Thor looks even more confused. "Loki? He is dead."

Star blinks. "What?"

One thing Ice Giants don't particularly appreciate is fire, and Privaldr knows that. The combination of the Dark Stone and the heated pokers pressing hard against the jaw line of the silver muzzle are making matters extremely uncomfortable for Loki at the moment. He'd almost prefer direct applications-at least those would begin to heal the moment the instrument of torture left the skin. The muzzle however, holds the heat, and Loki feels his skin blistering under it.

"This can end the moment you give me back my map. I'm a reasonable man, for now. But I grow impatient, Loki, and if you will not hand it over, I may have to turn my questions to your beautiful companion. Interrogating her will be a . . . pleasure," the Regent murmurs salaciously.

Loki shoots a look so full of venom that Privaldr steps back without realizing it, and one of the guards unsuccessfully hides a smirk. The Regent grabs a poker, snarling, "Perhaps you'd like to be as one-eyed as your father-"

Star gathers her thoughts and shakes her head. There's no way Thor could know if Privaldr has killed Loki already or not - he just got here, and as far as she knows, he doesn't have any magical ability that would allow him to sense how Loki is doing - so he must mean that Asgard believes Loki is dead.

OK, awkward. Thanks for the warning, Loki. "I'm sure he probably wants you to believe that, but no. He's very much alive. Well, for now, but I have a bad feeling that if we don't go save him from the Regent pretty soon, he won't be for much longer."

Thor studies her for a long moment. "Is this some kind of trick? Loki knows I have named myself Protector of Midgard, so perhaps he thinks that to dangle a helpless human in front of me will serve as an effective trap."

"For once, no. Or at least, I don't think so," Star mutters. "If he was planning on attacking you, or planning on getting himself captured, I doubt he would arrange for it to happen while he was naked, chained and muzzled." At Thor's shocked look, Star adds: "Don't ask. I'm pretty sure you don't want to know."

"And why," Thor asks, crossing his arms and looking imposing, "should I give aid to my wayward brother?"

Star crosses her own arms and stares back up at him. "Because he is your brother. It certainly has a better chance of bringing the two of you closer, than if you don't help." Star scrabbles for another reason. "And trust me, if you help him now, you'll be able to throw it in his face for millennia to come."

Thor finally cracks a tiny smile. "I do not doubt that you have the right of it, lady of Midgard." He motions, and Star watches fascinated as his armour materializes from nowhere, covering his chest and arms, not to mention his boots.

He swipes his hair out of his face and then holds out his hand, arm outstretched. They wait a moment, but nothing happens. "This may take a little time," Thor says, sounding slightly apologetic.

The poker comes dangerously close to Loki's face but he holds himself still, not flinching, and that courage annoys the Regent, who steps closer. "Really Loki, you'd sacrifice an eye for my little map? Your consort won't find you nearly as handsome with a ragged smoking socket."

Loki says nothing, striving to listen. There is some disturbance going on up above this room, some distant sound of mayhem that seems vaguely . . . familiar. He rolls his head from one shoulder to the other, a long strand of hair flipping across his brow, and flexes his hands, aware of the little gold ring around his pinky.

The poker moves closer, and Privaldr growls. "Hold his head."

The guards bring their hands to Loki's hair, gripping it, and he knows better than to struggle; one unexpected jerk and he'd end up impaled on the glowing end of the poker in the Regent's grip.

Louder. This time the Regent looks up, frowning. "What in the name of the icy underworld is going on up there?"

The low rumble of thunder echoes, followed by the crash of a section of the brick ceiling as chunks of stone rain down. Prudently Loki takes a step backwards; one of the guards is not as quick and a heavy rock brains him. He topples over. The Regent looks around, and seeing his moment, Loki sweeps a leg against Privaldr's, knocking the Regent down. The poker flies out of his hands to clatter on the floor, and moments later a heavy boot lands on it, the leather hissing underfoot.

Of course. Loki narrows his gaze as he takes in his brother standing there, arms at the ready, Mjölnir in hand. Clinging to Thor and looking slightly seasick is his pet, and that is completely unacceptable as far as Loki is concerned. He growls, ever so slightly.

"Next time I'm taking the goddamned elevator," Star mutters. Then she spots Loki. She utters a wordless cry and stumbles over the rubble littering the floor, tripping on it as she tries to both get to him, and to look him over at the same time. He's still naked and chained up, but he doesn't seem too injured.

At first she breathes a sigh of relief at all that pale, unblemished skin, but as her fingers touch the muzzle she yanks them back again with a curse - the metal is hot. "You bastard," she snarls at Privaldr, unable to resist the urge to kick him.

But Loki is still chained and she can hear shouts and running feet in the hallway so Star turns her attention to undoing the wrist-locks (thankfully they are not hot), and after endless seconds of fumbling thanks to too much adrenalin, she finally manages to get them open.

Loki gets the muzzle off himself, and Star flinches at the sight of the blistered, scorched skin on his jaw. She glares down at Privaldr again. "Look," she says flatly, "I know he stole from you, and that sucks, but really, torture?"

Behind them, the door to the room is thrown open with a resounding crash.

Loki arches an eyebrow at Thor, who having taken him in from head to foot is grinning. The god of thunder turns to the guards rushing through the door with a cheerful rumble. "I am ever amazed by your ability to survive, brother." A quick swing of his hammer and the first three guards rushing in fly backwards to fell the six coming up behind them.

"I have no intention of dying, particularly at the hands of fools," Loki assures him, and manages to dress himself with magic, his frost dagger gleaming. Stooping, Loki brings the point of it under the Regent's quivering chins. "Privaldr, so sorry we can't stay for more of your threats and blubbering. Oh, and if you ever look at my consort in a lustful fashion-by the Norn, if you ever again look at my consort at all-I will gut you like a boar in a pack of wolves and leave your entrails for you own dogs."

At Loki's words, Thor twists his head back towards them, raising an eyebrow. "Consort?" he asks. "You told me you were merely Loki's friend, Midgardian."

"Friend?" Loki echoes, looking up at Star with an eyebrow raise of his own.

"Don't look at me like that!" she snaps, feeling put on the defensive. "I had no idea what kind of reception I was going to ge-Behind you, Thor!"

The guards Thor knocked down earlier have regained their feet, and they look angry. At least until Mjölnir smashes into them with a musical clang against their armour.

An arrow speeds into the room, shooting over Thor's shoulder and whizzing close to Star's face, and she stifles a shriek and ducks behind Loki.

Loki rocks an arm forward and shoots a bolt of green energy past Thor's hip; the blast is enough to take the last of the guards out. The others are hanging back now, waiting. Apparently the Regent isn't worth dying for, in their estimation, and Loki feels that's very wise of them. He slips his arm around Star and looks towards Thor, who is still standing ready to challenge anyone coming through the door. Privaldr is starting to crawl away, but Loki drops a booted foot on his fat ass, pinning him down.

"I am permitted to choose a consort," he reminds Thor. "Just as you have."

Thor doesn't quite grin, but there is a twinkle in his eyes that isn't precisely innocent. "A Midgardian as well."

"That just proves you both have excellent taste," Star points out dryly. This is too surreal. She's on an alien planet with not one, but two Norse Gods. She wonders if they'll write stories about this in Asgard someday. Perhaps "The Lay of the Muzzled Trickster" or "How Not to Train Your Jotunn."

But the soldiers in the hall are starting to fidget, Privaldr seems on the verge of crying, and Star's pretty sure she does not want to witness that.

"Can we get OUT of here now, please and thank you?" she pleads, pressing tighter against Loki's side.

Thor looks up, still smirking slightly. "Heimdall?"

Are we going to Asgard? Star wonders. She's not sure whether she ought to be thrilled or terrified by the prospect.

Seconds later, Loki feels the familiar rush of energy that signifies the return to the Bifröst, and he keeps his grip around his pet tight since it can be an overwhelming experience. The sensation is bittersweet for him; once ages ago it delighted him to travel this way, but now it brings memories of those lost days and former innocence.

Still, when they arrive before Heimdall, Loki makes sure Star's feet are down safely on the stone floor before casting a glance at his brother and then to Heimdall, wondering which of them will point out he should be in the dungeons. It will probably be Heimdall, Loki guesses; the guardian never did appreciate any of his tricks.

Star presses a hand over her dazzled eyes, dizzied by their frantic rush through outer space. "That? Was awesome! Officially the best roller-coaster ever," she says with enthusiasm. "Six Flags is weeping in envy-Whoa." Star drops her hand from her eyes and goes silent, wide-eyed as she takes in the elaborate knot-work everywhere.

Not to mention the insanely huge building she can see in the distance through the windows.

Someone clears their throat, and Star turns to see they aren't alone. "Whoa," she mutters again. Did she think Thor was huge? Well, this guy is massive. "They sure grow you guys big in Asgard."

The adrenalin in her veins is lessening, but that only increases her awareness of other problems – like the fact her arm is hurting. She looks down and her sleeve is stained with blood, and when she glances over at Loki, he's not in perfect health either, his jaw still raw and blistered.

It reminds Star that he's not exactly welcome here, and as his consort, she may not be either. The thought makes her throat go dry as her hand wraps around her wound.

"Even though I have been watching, I am still surprised," Heimdall rumbles, and Loki can see under the Guardian's placid expression a hint of amusement. Thor sighs.

"As am I. Still, the Midgardian is wounded and should be seen to. Have you mounts, Heimdall?"

"Yes."

Loki turns to his pet and picks her up, trying not to jostle her arm too much. "I should have killed that mewling whoreson when I had the chance," he murmurs to her as he notes the wound.

Thor brings the horse around, and Loki lifts Star onto it, and then swings himself up behind her easily, keeping a secure grip around her waist. Thor swings up on a second horse and reaches for the bridle of Loki's mount. "As you care for this little brave one, you will take her with me to the healer. After that we may deal with whatever else, Brother."

Loki nods. "Of course," he murmurs, "oh of course."

"Brave?" Star has to snort. I think stupid might be the word you're looking for. Out of the frying pan and so on, but what other choice had there been? And she does NOT want to think about Heimdall watching. Pervert, she decides.

Soon she's occupied trying to look everywhere at once. Everything is HUGE, and golden, and filigreed. "The person who said everything is bigger in Texas clearly has never seen Asgard," she mutters to Loki. "Is someone compensating for something, I wonder?"

Loki says nothing, though his mouth turns up slightly. His entire body is tense, however.

When they arrive at the healers, it's a matter of moments for one of them to fetch a glowing stone. They hold it over Star's arm, and within seconds her arm is whole again. Too bad she can't say the same for her shirt.

Thor is by the room's only door, talking to a guard in low tones. When Star looks up at Loki, who's been practically glued to her side since they dismounted the horse, his jaw is healed though none of the healers had approached him. She reaches to touch the smooth, pale skin. "I'm glad you're OK," she says quietly, for his ears alone. "Now level with me - exactly how much trouble are we in right now?" She flicks a nervous glance at Thor and the guard.

"That depends on how you define trouble," Loki tells her, enjoying her touch. He adds, "You are in the position of being a guest, something my mother will use against the Allfather to our advantage. I will probably be reprimanded for aggravating matters with Privaldr, but not too harshly since neither my mother nor the Allfather like that odious little toady. All I ask is that you say nothing of why I visited the Regent."

Loki strokes her arm. "You are well? Healed?" He can't hide the concern in his tone; seeing his pet bleeding has shaken him, reminded him of her mortal frailty. This fact shouldn't be arousing him but it does. He desires her, wants to strip her down and check her for himself, to see that she is whole. He wants to fill her and hold her.

Odd, this sensation. Her very vulnerability is bringing forth such strong responses. Loki shifts uncertainly, hoping Thor will see the sense in taking them to a private room rather than insisting on an audience with Odin right away.

"I'm fine," Star assures him, taking his hand and squeezing her cold fingers around his as she looks around nervously. "Asgard's interior designer is really into gold and knot-work, I see," she remarks flippantly, though her mind is filled with images of Loki chained under snakes as poison drips onto him. She doesn't know what exactly constitutes Asgardian justice, and she thinks she won't be able to relax until she does know.

"Just in case Odin's really ticked off, do you happen to have an escape plan?" she whispers to Loki, though they are interrupted as Thor dismisses the guard and walks over.

"I have arranged for you both to be brought to your old rooms to rest for a time, brother, but unfortunately you will not be able to avoid facing Father forever."

"Hardly a surprise," Loki mutters, and louder adds, "Thank you, on her behalf," and glances at his pet.

Thor inclines his head, smiling. "My pleasure."

They wait until he turns and leaves; Loki notes the guard stationing himself outside the door as it closes. He glances at Star. "I always have a plan. But for the moment, I am more concerned about you. Show me your arm."

She looks a little impatient, but pushes up her sleeve and Loki bends to examine her skin, kissing it lightly. Warm, scented of her . . . he kisses his way up to the tender spot at the crook of her elbow, licking it lightly.

Star shudders and giggles, glancing shyly over at the healers at the other end of the room, then pushes him away gently. "Down, big boy. And people accuse me of having a one-track mind!" She links her fingers through his to ease the disappointment written on his face. "If you want to play doctor, I've no objection, but maybe we should go to your rooms first?"

Loki nods, his face now bearing a smirk, and he tugs her after him as he goes to the door, opening it, and motioning for the guard to lead the way.

Loki's room is enormous, of course. Star looks around as Loki closes the door behind their guard. "Gee," she comments with faux surprise, "More gold and knot-work. Colour me shocked." And green, of course, but that goes without saying.

Loki merely smiles, a predatory glint in his eyes as he stalks towards her, moving around at the last minute and making her track him as he does so. "I have had these apartments for a hundred years or so and they are actually a bit on the austere side compared to those occupied by most. Come here."

It's as low and sweet a tone as he can manage but it's still a command, and it gives Loki a sensual thrill to see his pet obey even as she arches an eyebrow at him. He's well-aware of all they have been through in the last three hours, and his body-unfulfilled and on edge- responds to her obedience. When she is before him, looking up into his face, he bends quickly, kissing her, catching her lower lip in the nip of his teeth, laughing slightly. The nip becomes a kiss, and then Loki waves a hand, the gesture leaving little green sparkling trails as he does so.

The curtains close, the door locks, and Loki slides his cool hands down his pet's back, letting them work their way into the waistband of her jeans and down to cup her ass.

Star gasps against his mouth, then smiles and pushes back against his hands.

She can't so easily worm her hands into his armour, so she squeezes his backside through his clothes instead. She has unfinished business with that ass, but given his current mood, she supposes that will have to wait.

His hands slip lower, tracing cool lines along the crease at the top of her thighs, and Star shivers and nips at his lower lip. Then she has to laugh as a thought occurs: "Do you have a kink for getting it on while in enemy territory? Because I can't fail to notice that here we are, on potentially unfriendly ground again, and yet you are keen to get into my pants. Literally." She smirks up at him and slips one hand around and between them to curve her palm over the very obvious bulge underneath his tunic.

"And you are not at all interested in my advances, not aroused in the least," Loki flashes her a knowing smile. "Oh what a tyrant I am, to force you into this." As he speaks, Loki concentrates and just like that her jeans are gone, along with anything else his pet was wearing below her little waist. She gasps but then laughs out loud, leering knowingly as Loki slides his hands lower, urging her legs apart, his long fingers sliding from the crease at the back of the thighs to the softer skin between them.

His pet's fur tickles his fingertips, and he presses his mouth close to her ear. "Your words may say one thing, but your body is always truthful. So very wet you are, my sweet. So ready to be mounted."

"I never said I wasn't willing," she counters, poking him in the chest. "I was just making an observation. Though I fully agree - you ARE a tyrant." She grins and rubs the palm of her hand in slow circles over his erection, doing her best to ignore how his fingers are inching oh so slowly forward between her legs. His Adam's apple bobs as he tries to ignore what she is doing, though he is unable to hide his own shudder as her fingers start to toy with the lacing of his fly.

"Though if we want to play doctor - that is, if you want to examine me - I should probably be naked," she notes archly. She reaches up between their bodies and undoes the buttons on her shirt, holding his jade gaze the whole time.

Star drops the shirt to the floor, then glances down at the red corset. "Oh shit," she breathes, clapping a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "My underwear - the ones I was wearing before you brought me to Niflheim - they're still there!" As is the butt-plug, jar of Notyr, my collar, and Loki's entire wardrobe and toybox. Holy. CRAP.

The mental image of Privaldr finding and examining her underwear makes her shiver with disgust.

As if reading her mind, Loki shakes his head. "All of our personal effects are gone; I have spells in place that bring them with me whenever and wherever I go. I expect they will be catching up to us shortly, in fact."

He watches her take that in, and in her momentary distraction, Loki cups her ass and picks her up, rubbing noses with her. "Keep the corset; I rather like it on you this way, with freedom above and below."

Star's not sure what he means, but she smirks and loops her arms around his neck as he carries her over to the massive bed. He sets her down on an emerald green velvet coverlet that's as soft as kitten fur. She looks at the elaborate scrollwork on each post of the bed, and the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. "Austere," she drawls. "Suuuuuuure. If you say so."

"I do," he purrs, leaning down to flick the tip of his tongue against her lips. She makes a noise embarrassingly similar to a squeal as his fingers busily pull down the cups of her bra to expose her fully. She supposes she now knows what he meant by 'above and below'.

Loki sits back, looking her over in a way that makes her blush despite the familiarity between them.

When he does nothing but look for a long moment, Star wriggles impatiently and holds out her arm to him, the one the healers fixed. "Oh, Doctor Loki," she says as seriously as she can manage with a straight face, "my arm is sore. Please, can you help me?"

He lets his fingers encircle her wrist, then straightens her arm, brushing his lips from fingertips down to the crook of her elbow and up to the sensitive area right in front of his pet's armpit. Carefully Loki's tongue swipes her skin, and he meanders down the slope of her chest, his face and warm breath against her flesh.

It's but the work of a moment to nuzzle her nipple; to circle it with his tongue and breathe a cool breath on it, making it stiff. Better not to have the other one jealous, so Loki moves to that one and does the same thing, forcing his pet to lie back, her splutters and little squeaks delightful to hear as she complains about the chill and her hips wriggle without her realizing it. His hair brushes against her and impatiently he shifts it out of the way. "I believe in treating the whole body," he tells her with mock-sincerity. "Yours has need of certain . . . treatments that we shall begin now."

Star gasps, arching as Loki conjures a cube of ice from out of the air and traces the edge of it lightly along her collarbone. "So very responsive," he whispers in her ear. "Shall we test if that is true elsewhere? It would be irresponsible of me not to be . . . thorough."

His hot breath rushes against her ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe, and Star digs her nails into the velvet as he drips melting ice water over her breasts, rubbing it into her skin with the side of his hand.

She shivers, and yet there's no denying there's heat in this. It's focusing right between her legs, in fact, though she's pretty sure he'll get down there eventually to 'cool' things off.

The high-pitched moan she utters as he applies the ice to one nipple, then the other, makes him grin - she can feel it against her throat as she throws her head back, her whole body tingling. Half the time he has her fairly convinced he's not a god, but a devil, and bent on torturing her in the most wickedly sensual ways he can concoct.

For a moment, Loki wishes he was the one being tormented this way; their last encounter having been interrupted by Privaldr still lingers in his mind, and he has no doubt his pet would be particularly wicked. But he cannot deny that having his pet under him on his own bed in Asgard holds a certain thrill as well, particularly since she's so very responsive. Being treated by the healers tends to leave the body particularly sensitive, and Loki intends to capitalize on that.

He shifts the cube in his hand to a dripping icicle and rolls it over the slope of one breast, enjoying the way his pet shudders. A warm breath dries her skin and then Loki repeats it on the other breast, chuckling softly. "So many fires within you; how fortunate you have me to quench them."

Loki makes sure the tip of the icicle is blunted, and uses it to move to the underside of the corset and traces little runes down her body, making his way down to her hips. There is beautiful murder in her eyes, but a smile on her mouth as well; when he rolls the icicle from hip to hip she writhes. It's also a sensual torture to draw it between her legs, letting the length of it juuuuuuust stroke along the cleft of her fur.

"Jesus Christ," she gasps at the cold caress. "Anybody ever tell you you're evil?"

He laughs, and it sounds diabolical. He moves to settle himself between her legs, pushing on her thigh to spread them wider, and for a moment Star debates resisting, but then decides it's not worth it.

The tip of the icicle touches the back of her knee and she jumps and bites down on a curse. Loki laughs again, his breath heating the skin just above where the icicle is tormenting her. He moves it in a slow dance up the inside of her thigh, forming more runes along her skin, and she shivers at the drops of icy water trailing down her flesh as he completes each little symbol.

"You'd better not be writing rude things on me," she complains though she's only half-serious. "If I find out those are the Asgardian runes for 'Loki's Slut' or something like that, you are so in the doghouse." His head is sooooo close to where she wants him to be, that for a second she's tempted to sit up and wrap her fingers in that conveniently-long hair and attempt to tug that clever, smirking mouth right against her curls. It might even be worth the retaliation he'll probably visit upon her after.

Loki can feel the sweet tension in his pet's thighs, and knows perfectly well what she wants. Why not reward her? He reasons. She did rescue him, even if it meant bringing his brother into it, but given the circumstances she had few alternatives. That is part of her charm; being able to think and not just be a luscious little hellcat. Loki shifts and lets the icicle merge into his fingertips, and then brings his mouth deep within her curls for a sensual kiss even as his touch strokes the inside of her thighs.

She moans and rocks her hips up, caught between the heat and the chill, and even as his tongue circles her stiff little button Loki runs his fingers along the pink lips below it, the chill meeting her heat in sensual fusion. His pet tastes of warm feminine tartness and Loki teases her a while, enjoying his fill.

He didn't answer her question - which probably means he is writing rude things - but what he's doing to her feels so good any aggravation dies a quick death. He's looking up at her impishly as he drags her closer to climax . . . and then stops. And then begins again.

Cold fingers ease just a little forward, teasing just inside the entrance to her body, his hot tongue caressing her nub, and she couldn't resist even if she wanted to, her hands clenching velvet handfuls as her body goes rigid against his hungry mouth.

Star feels him press a last kiss against her quivering flesh before he sits up. She observes through half-lidded eyes as he motions with his hand and his armour vanishes into nothing. But as he stretches out over her, she decides it's his turn to be on the bottom.

She sits up, though her muscles try to rebel, pushing at his shoulder to try to get him to roll over onto his back.

Loki senses what she wants and he's more than willing to oblige; it's erotically charming to see her still dazed from her climax, trying to boss him around. He shifts, stretching himself out, giving her a heated smile, well-aware that his lips are glossy from hers. Carefully he reaches his arms over his head, giving the impression of surrender, his prick thick against his flat belly.

"Mounting the stallion?" he murmurs invitingly.

"In due time," she answers, the corner of her mouth turning up. She kisses him, tasting herself on his mouth, then kisses her slow way down the middle of his throat, his chest, his stomach, until the head of his shaft is against her cheek.

Star turns her head and takes him in, stroking her tongue in circles around the smooth knob, smiling inwardly when Loki's hips shift and he hisses out a slow, trembling breath. His hand, still cold, slips across her shoulder and traces down her spine, raising goose bumps and inducing a shiver from her, but she doesn't allow him to distract her for long.

She moves her mouth up and down his length, listening as his breaths speed up, and then she stops. He frowns down at her and seems ready to complain, until she sits up and swings a leg across him. She guides him inside her, slowly lowering herself and closing her eyes the better to feel him filling her completely, and his hands, now much warmer, close firmly around her hips.

He's looking up at her, watching and matching her every move, but something - maybe it's the way the light glances across the curve of his jaw - reminds her that not so long ago, that skin was seared, peeling and blistered.

What if she hadn't been there to summon Thor to rescue him? Worse, what if she'd been there but hadn't brought the stone with her?

Her movements falter, and Loki looks up at her questioningly. She bites her lip, but decides to go all in. "Don't. You. Ever." she starts, rocking hard against him on each word. "Do that to me again." She stops, her muscles gripping him tightly, and locks eyes with him.

"I realize I can't stop you from putting yourself in danger - much as I wish I could - but do not put me in a position where I have to watch you being captured and harmed. Or worse." She shakes her head slightly though her eyes never leave his. "I'm happy to visit other planets with you, but not in a situation like that, ever again. Do I make myself clear, Loki?" Her fingers tighten on his shoulders, all but digging into his skin.

Which is all fine, but . . . aren't we in a potentially dangerous situation right now? She's not sure she trusts Loki's insistence that as a 'guest', she's somehow protected.

He bites back a scowl, and keeps his touch light, saying nothing for the moment, letting his body enjoy the sensations and keeping himself from thinking about his pet's stinging words. Loki has had enough pain for the moment, and even though he senses she means more under her orders it's more than he chooses to deal with right now.

"Shhhh," he murmurs, and rocks into her, closing his eyes. There is heat and sweet pleasure building between them again, that perfect dance of push and pull that draws the breath out of him as she wriggles. His hands cup around her ass and Loki sends a flare of chill through them, making her gasp and swear even as she begins to speed up, her nipples hard.

She wants to retort but nothing is coming out of her mouth except pants and moans. Bastard, she thinks, moving down hard to meet each of his upward thrusts, the storm building between them. Out of pure spite she tries not to come, not this time, but as if he senses her goal one of his hands slips around in front of her, massaging her clit. His fingers turn alternately hot and cold as they circle firmly around and around, and a squeal is torn from her lungs as waves of ice and fever pour over her. He never stops thrusting into her, driving her under until her body won't respond any more.

Star blinks sweat out of her eyes and braces herself against his chest though her elbows and shoulders shake with the effort. "Don't you shush me, you b- bastard," she snarls as best she can while attempting to catch her breath. "I don't care how many times you make me orgasm; I will not be forced to bear witness while you are-"

Loki growls, eyes narrowed, and in a blur of motion Star finds herself back on the bottom, pinned underneath him. He pins her wrists to the mattress and by force of will stops thrusting, lying on her, in her, thick, hot and throbbing. "Forced?" he rasps, the ache of desire so strong he can feel the pulse of it through every vein. "Forced? Never have I insisted or ordered or forced you to come with me, and even now when I most need your comfort and care you choose to take your pleasure and then chastise me for actions beyond my control! I am sorry to have brought you into danger, very sorry, but you were not blind to who I am or what my life is like, Star. And . . ." he hesitates, fighting the welling misery deep within him, ". . . if you do not love me, simply tell me so; don't keep tormenting me if there is no hope in that direction."

For a moment she quails - the last time she goaded him, she wound up with his hands around her throat - but she's too stubborn to back down now. Besides, she doubts Thor or his parents will look kindly on Loki killing a defenseless human woman, especially on Asgardian soil.

"Love you? No, I couldn't possibly be afraid for you, care about your welfare, because of that," she retorts, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She glares up at him. "Don't pretend to be stupider than you are."

He gasps, his eyes wide and his hands now freezing as they tighten slightly around her wrists, but she's not done. "And while we're on the subject of love, if you love me, as you so often claim to, then you wouldn't take such risks with your life." She's being manipulative, she knows, but as far as she's concerned, if he loves her he SHOULD care enough not to risk himself for something as ridiculous as 'ruling all Nine Realms' - and good luck with that, idiot!

Besides, if this makes him think twice about putting himself in danger in the future, well . . . that's of benefit to both of them.

Then, perversely, she punctuates her tirade by squeezing her muscles around him, milking him, and she can feel him twitching inside her, even as a confused welter of emotions moves itself across his face.

It kills him to do it, but Loki pulls free of her, biting back a moan as his prick slides through the slick grip of her cleft. He releases her wrists and lets himself drop to one side of his pet, his body still on edge, his emotions roiling in a storm within, closing his eyes and seeking some sort of equilibrium that isn't so easily found.

"Then we are at an impasse, my pet. Not even for you- my delicious, beautiful, brilliant Star-will I change my destiny." He rumbles. "To gain a throne, MY throne, will require risks, dangers, possibly even some degree of madness, and I would rather die in the glory of that quest than sit like some lap dog waiting for smiles and pats. I have lived this long; perhaps you should have faith in my skills of survival."

Loki turns his head to look at Star, his mouth twisted in a pained smile. "Around you, perhaps I am that stupid, but then again, perhaps you simply cannot say it because it will hurt you to do so."

Star mutters a curse and pushes herself to a seated position, then clambers over him again, straddling his narrow waist. "Fuckin'-A we are at an impasse. There's nothing glorious about attacking a civilian population with an alien army, jackass. You think I didn't notice what went down on my own planet?"

Anger fills his eyes, but Star doesn't care. She presses her fingers over his mouth to forestall whatever crap he's about to dish out. "No. Shut the fuck up, Loki." His eyes widen again, like he can't believe she's daring to say that to him. "You've got your self-worth all wrapped up in this crazy idea that if you somehow manage to cram your delectably tight ass into as many thrones as you can create, that somehow that will fix everything. Well, I think - no, I know - grinding everybody else in the universe under your heel isn't going to fill all the empty places inside you. But hey, if you're determined to learn that the hard way, so be it. We'll just have to agree to disagree on that."

For all the rage in his eyes, she can still feel him, hard and throbbing underneath her. On impulse, she shifts up just enough to guide him back inside her.

He tries to speak again, but Star presses her hand a bit more firmly on his mouth. God, what I wouldn't give for that damned muzzle right about now. "My memory isn't what it used to be, but I'm pretty sure I just told you to shut up. I'm not done." She shifts her hips up and down slightly, and he moans softly under her hand, even as his eyes glare daggers at her.

"So the appropriate answer would have been: 'I'm sorry I put us both at risk, I'll try not to do that again.' Period. Not 'this is who I am' or 'you must not love me' or 'I am burdened with glorious whatthefuckery'." She rocks against him harder. She's not going to come - she's too angry for that - but that doesn't matter. What matters is his eyes locked on hers, and his hands squeezing large white-knuckled handfuls of the covers, and the heat of him moving inside her.

"And I just love," she says sarcastically, moving slightly slower for now, "this little defense of yours. 'Oh Star, you don't love me, woe is me'. The next time you're on Ear-Midgard, do yourself a favour and pop into the nearest library and look up Sigmund Freud. Specifically his defense mechanism of 'projection'."

Loki tries to shake his head but Star doesn't release his mouth. Instead she leans forward, though still moving slowly forward and back on him. "Let me tell you what I've learned about love. Real love. It's about taking someone else into account. Putting someone else's needs and desires at least on the same level as yours, if not above them. It's why I'm not going to abandon my family for you. Their feelings and well-being are too important to me. And it's also why I don't want to say I love you. Because we're not equals; you don't care what I want or think. I'm just your pet, the one that you play with when you feel the need. That's it. I don't get a vote. Is that what you call 'love'? Not me. Like I said, projecting, much?"

She shakes her head and sits back, hand still over his mouth. "You're such an ass," she declares. He starts to speak again, but she presses down until he stops. "No, I don't want to hear your crap. I'm done with that for now." On impulse, she leans to his ear. "I'll settle for your groans." Inside her, he's still hard. It's an interesting tell.

Star sits back again, closing her eyes so she doesn't have to watch whatever visual hate he's throwing at her now, rocking against him. It's slow at first, his body stiff under hers, resisting, but soon enough he's bucking up into her. She twists as much as she can while still keeping her hand on his face, reaching a hand behind herself to cup his balls. She strokes gently, and under her other hand his mouth has fallen open, breaths gasping against her palm.

He comes, hard, as much in pain as pleasure, and after the last spasms rock through him, Loki says nothing. There is nothing to be said, not after her tirade. She does not love him, she does not forgive him, she does not understand the least of who he is or what he needs.

And clearly Loki has no idea of what she needs. They are not equals, she has pointed out, and at this moment it's blindingly clear that Star is right. He means little more to her than a means to an end. Which of us truly is the pet? he thinks, and recalls their times together. Has he never given her a choice? In all their encounters has he never considered her needs and wants over his own?

Truly?

That can't be so, Loki thinks bitterly. His jaw aches and although his body has achieved release he feels nothing more than lassitude now. He waves a cleaning spell over the two of them and sits up, reaching for his clothing. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Star watching him, but he gives her a wry glance. "Thank you. You've given me much to think about. Stay here, warm and safe."

Before she can speak, Loki closes his eyes and wills himself out of the room, out to one of the far towers unused and empty. He needs time to consider matters.

Hours pass. Star spends the first hour huddled under the bed sheets, miserably running recent events over and over in her mind. Why do her discussions with him lately always seem to completely derail? How can he treat her like she's nothing more than a fuck buddy, yet act so hurt that she's not head-over-heels in love with him in return? And, if he hadn't wanted to be challenged, why had he picked her, of all people? She'd been sassing him from the very start, even when he was just a disembodied, random message appearing on her computer; he apparently remembers it differently, but she knows better, and she has the proof in black and white, in Arial typeface back home!

At the start of the second hour, Loki's wardrobe and other effects, including her misplaced underwear and her collar, pop into being in the middle of the bedroom - literally, they're accompanied by a popping noise that nearly startles Star right out of her skin - and so she hangs the red lingerie dejectedly away and dresses slowly in her Earth clothes. Then she wanders out to the balcony, observing the spectacular panoramic view with absolutely no enthusiasm.

That's the second hour.

At the beginning of the third hour, she convinces herself that Loki's not coming back. He's probably already dumped her, maybe even left Asgard from some secret way. She decides to leave him some kind of note, and then find some way to get back home, preferably with a jump back in time to the same point she left Earth. Less difficult questions to answer.

She finds paper and a quill at Loki's huge desk. Halfway through she starts trying to write some comment regarding the whole 'love' issue, scratches it out, decides that part is too legible still, and has to start again. By the end, she's reasonably happy, under the circumstances.

Loki,

I forget sometimes that I have a terrible temper and that I need to learn better control over it. All I was really trying to say was that watching you get dragged away and tortured terrified me. I don't enjoy watching things like that happen to you.

As for this 'destiny' of yours . . . You can be more. You don't need or have to be the tyrant. You're better than that. I hope someday you allow yourself to realize that.

Your Star

She nods, satisfied, and folds the paper carefully - the previous version is balled up and shoved into her jeans pocket - and then she places it in the middle of his bed, weighed down by an inkwell from the desk.

Straightening her shoulders, she marches over to the bedroom door. She'll ask the guard to find Thor, or maybe try to find Thor herself. Heimdall can probably send her back to Earth, but she doesn't know if he can bend time backwards.

Too bad she has nothing whatsoever to barter with. She supposes she'll have to rely, again, on Thor's goodwill. She reaches for the doorknob-

A noise behind her - someone clearing his throat - makes her jump. She turns to see he's back.

Loki looks up at her, shifting the book he holds from hand to hand. "I disagree with this Freud," he tells her. "Far too fixated on genitalia and his assumptions about fear do not apply to Jotunn. Jung seems far more applicable to the rest of us in the Nine Realms, particularly his dream analysis, which shows influence of our mythology."

Star blinks. So that's what he was doing. "I don't agree with everything Freud says - or Jung, for that matter - but they did have some valuable ideas."

Making the book vanish, Loki steps forward and reaches out to cup Star's upper arms and look down into her face. "I apologize for what you have been through in the last day, Pet. That indeed, should have been the first thing I should have said. I also thank you for calling Thor. Much as I malign my brother he is also a hero even when he cannot help it. Now that those are said, I also will say that my pain came not from what you said, which is justified, but when and where. I do not wish to argue or fight with you while we are making love. Ever. If we have issues between us, let us not bring them up in the one place where all between us is good. Either we resolve them before going to bed or after, but not during."

He holds her gaze, hoping she agrees. It's taken him a while to work up the courage for this, and Loki still fears she might consider that-what did the book call it? Deflection, but it's not.

Star nods slowly. It's a better reaction than she dared hope for, and she hates the part of herself that distrusts it; the other shoe is sure to drop sometime. Her eyes flicker past him to the note she'd left on the bed, but she decides to say nothing for now. There's nothing inflammatory in it, she doesn't think, but she's had enough of fighting with him for one 'visit'. He'll either find it and read it, or he won't. And if he does, he'll either take it to heart, or he won't. It's out of her hands.

"Sure, that sounds fair," she replies in answer to his question. "I'm sorry, too." She pauses, searching for what to say next, but is interrupted by a quiet knock at the door behind them.

Loki looks pleased and moves to open it; behind the massive portal stands a gracious woman in pale green, her gaze serene.

"Mother," he murmurs.

Oh crap! Star thinks to herself. She's so not ready for this. Loki and Frigga both look so elegant and regal, and here she is in her worn jeans and sneakers, with a ragged tear stained reddish-brown with dried blood across the forearm of one sleeve.

But Frigga and Loki are both looking at her now. "Your Majesty," Star says after a hesitation, curtseying as well as she can in jeans. Oh yeah, that wasn't awkward at all.

"Well-brought up, but not necessary," Frigga smiles gently. "I take it you are the one who has captured my son's . . . finer feelings?"

Star nearly chokes on her own spit. Definitely awkward. Parents are the same everywhere too, it seems. She settles for humour. "Your son is not easily 'captured', my Lady," she laughs, pretending it's a joke.

She doesn't know how else to answer, especially given what happened between them earlier. Not so long ago, she might have tartly remarked "You'd better ask your son that, because I'm not so sure I have." But no, not now.

"That he is not," Frigga agrees, shooting Loki a stern but slightly indulgent look. A look that makes him blush.

"I assure you mother, all is well," he replies. "I am fully healed."

And he is, mostly. An ache or two remain, but more of his concern centers on his pet and how awkwardly she is watching him. To reassure her, Loki takes her hand, which is cold, in his.

Star glances down at their joined hands, but it doesn't comfort her as much as it probably would have days ago. She looks up at Frigga, realizing Loki's mother is still standing in the doorway, and that the guard is still there. "Won't you come in?" she asks Frigga. "I think I'd prefer to have any gaffes I make witnessed by as few people as possible."

Frigga nods a dismissal to the guard, who ducks away outside the door, and glides in herself, regal and still smiling. "I doubt you will make any; the guard is for your protection, not your incarceration by the way. So . . . where are you from?"

"Eart- I mean, Midgard. I guess that's what you call it around these parts." She tries smiling but it feels strange on her face. Too many emotional ups and downs lately. If she doesn't get a migraine at some point today, she'll be very surprised. I'm getting grilled by a Norse god. In the home of the Norse Gods. This is . . . very fucked-up.

"Midgard," Frigga nods. "It's said to be home of the brightest, and honestly, neither of my sons can resist it-" she shoots a look at Loki, "Although some have treated it more poorly than others."

"Mother-" Loki mutters, feeling a rush of blood to his face. This was NOT how the conversation was supposed to go.

Pretty sure he doesn't actually want me for my mind, her brain wants her to remark, but she bites her tongue hard until the urge to do so passes. "You are too kind, Lady." She shoots a look at Loki too. "And I am a firm believer that people can change." She lets her gaze linger on Loki a fraction longer than necessary before turning back to Frigga. "It's kind of one of the basic assumptions of my job, actually."

"Good, then you are in company here," Frigga nods. "At the moment, your father is trying to decide if apologizing to Privaldr is worth it. I don't think it is, and frankly he doesn't either because the man is an odious toady, but politics being what they are, we may have to. I know you stole something from him, and it will have to be returned, Loki. Even if we do not apologize."

Loki draws a breath. "Mother-"

"Don't 'Mother' me. Give whatever it was back, and reconsider your decisions," Frigga tells him, her tone gentle but her words firm.

Star's eyes move between them as if she is watching a tennis match. Yes, definitely awkward. She wonders if she should back away, before magic starts flying around.

When the silence stretches out a touch too long, Star sighs inwardly. She doesn't have much practice at family therapy, but here goes nothing-

"Would you excuse us a moment, Lady?" she asks.

Frigga nods and glides out into the hallway. Star waits until they are alone, then turns urgently to Loki. "OK, what exactly did you steal?"

Loki's eyes narrow. "We have discussed this. Such matters are none of your affair-"

"Don't start. D'you want my help, or do you want to be stubborn and risk letting Frigga or Odin decide your attitude would be improved by letting you cool off in a dungeon for, oh, let's say the next decade or three?"

With ill grace, Loki slips the ring off his pinky finger, and with a wave of his other hand, it turns into a map.

Star nods, thinking fast. "Do you have some way to copy that, fast? Then you can give one to Frigga - the original, mind you - and still have the info you need." Great, after all my ragging on him, now I'm aiding and abetting his stupid Master Plan for Universal Domination. Terrific.

Loki moves to the desk, grabs a sheet of vellum there and lays it over the map. Lines and labels bleed through until a perfect duplicate appears. He tucks the copy under other sheets and looks to Star approvingly. "Very clever, thank you." he glances at the original and sighs. "It is said there is a spring somewhere here that cures melancholy and allows one to know the thoughts of animals."

"Wonderful. I'm sure it's just like Disneyland," Star retorts dryly. "You can take me there at a future date. For now, your mother is waiting." With a glance back at Loki for his nod of approval, Star goes to open the door for Frigga.

"I think we've had a breakthrough," she says in a low voice to the Queen, winking and motioning with her head in Loki's direction.

"Here," Loki murmurs, handing the map to his mother. "For all the good it does."

Frigga accepts it and slips it into some side pocket, her expression nearly the same smirk as his. "Taking things from others is wrong. Taking things from Privaldr is simply a waste of your talents."

"Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose," Star can't resist remarking. She glances over at Loki.

He very nearly rolls his eyes. "I am bullied even now by the pair of you," he chuffs, but the dimple in his cheek shows when he sighs. "All right then. What punishment will the Allfather give me? Some banishment again?"

"Banishment," Frigga agrees, her smile wry, 'for all the good it does."

"Wait, wh- what?" Star stammers. But Frigga is already gliding to the door again.

"Your father and I await you in the throne room to pass sentence," the Queen says, though there's a twinkle in her eye that belies her words before she exits.

Banishment? Star's first thought is that they'll do to Loki what they did to Thor - strip Loki of his powers and dump him somewhere. Which probably means she'll never see him again.

As bad as that is, her second thought is even worse: If they think Star is actually Loki's girlfriend or consort or whatever, would they decide to banish both of them together?

She'll be trapped forever on a strange world with a god with no magic. A god who won't be able to send her home to her family ever again.

Sudden panic rides her hard. Star's hands shake and she can feel that migraine she was expecting starting behind her skull. She grasps clumsily for Loki's hand, his fingers warm around her icy ones.

"This is my fault," she says heavily through the dread that wants to suffocate her. "If I hadn't summoned Thor, we wouldn't be here now, at the mercy of your . . . "She doesn't even know how to end that sentence. Where would they send him - or them - to? Helheim? Jotunheim? I have enough trouble with Earth winters! She clutches more tightly onto Loki's hand.

"Mother," Loki finishes. "She's the only one with mercy. And you did the right thing. Worry not; they will send you back to your own life . . . probably without any memory of us," he sighs sadly. "I'm sure Odin will consider that for the best, although Mother likes you."

That will be the most difficult part, Loki knows. To lose what he has gained with his pet; all the pleasures, yes, but the simple bond as well-the affection, the teasing, the little joys too-that part is nearly unbearable. He raises her hand to his lips, kissing it lightly. "I am loathe to go, but to keep the Allfather waiting is to risk further wrath. Be brave one last time, sweet Star, for me."

He watches her, and offers his arm.

She grits her teeth, hard, but takes his arm. "They can try to wipe my memory," she hisses, "but I'll give them an earful before they do."

Loki's mouth quirks but he looks sad. Star follows reluctantly as he walks them to the bedroom door one last time.

The guard precedes them down several hallways, which eventually open out into a massive room with so many columns that if Star wasn't terrified and angry in equal measures she might've made some saucy quip about compensating for something.

A few groups of people stand around the enormous room, talking in hushed tones. Most of them turn to stare as Loki and Star pass, and despite the storm of emotions she can't help wondering if they are staring because of the way she's dressed, or because they're surprised to see Loki arm-in-arm with a human woman. Or any woman, for that matter.

There's another group standing in front of a dais, which is where they seem to be heading. She recognizes a few people milling about there - Frigga and Thor, but also several other men and one woman who she soon realizes are Sif and the so-called Warriors Three. She's not sure if that's a good sign or not. Probably not.

They reach the foot of the dais and the guard steps away. Star looks up, reluctantly, and above them is a massive throne of gold (with knot-work, of course). And on it the imposing, forbidding figure of a man with a staff and an eye-patch. Yo ho ho and a bottle of whiskey, Star thinks sourly.

This is the being who is going to wipe her memories and separate Loki from her forever. Some traitorous part of her is almost glad about that. She can go back to her normal life, her family. She doesn't have to do this compartmentalizing thing any longer, or worry that one day Loki will kill her. Accidentally or purposefully.

But most of her just thinks this is all a really really bad idea. How exactly is antagonizing Loki going to keep him from trying to rule the Nine Realms? Or prevent Ragnarök, assuming there's any truth to those legends.

If anything, this is going to set Loki's feet even more firmly on a bad path, she's certain.

But she's not going to show her fear before all these people, let alone the man who's about to rummage around in her brain and delete part of her. So she locks her knees so they won't shake quite as much, digs her nails into the thick leather of Loki's sleeve, and sets her gaze as sternly as she can on Odin's impassive face.

Loki is proud of her. He knows his pet is trepidatious, but here she is standing up to the Allfather in that proud way of hers. He notes that others are watching with various degrees of approval as well, and that makes him feel a bit better as well.

I chose well, didn't I? he longs to say to the assembled group. Instead he keeps to Star's side and looks up where the Allfather is looking down on them, literally and figuratively. Loki's aware he's expected to say something, so he raises his chin and does.

"I take all responsibility for matters with the Regent," he says smoothly. "First and foremost. My consort here had nothing to do with any transgressions I have committed, either in the past or now."

Odin seems skeptical but he says nothing, and Loki watches him, waiting to see if the older man can take the silence.

"Very well," the Allfather murmurs, his one-eyed gaze sweeping from Star to Loki. "If you are solely to blame-and I am sure you are-then your consort will be absolved of any doubt in this matter. I have considered where to send you, and it seems to me that both you and your brother have become . . . . enamored with Midgard. Given that it is the realm most often in need of guidance, and that the beings there seem to be more than able to deal with your . . . temperament, I am sending you there."

Loki freezes, caught between wariness and relief. Midgard would be amusing, at least for a while. Certainly there would be more than enough to catch his interest, and to have his pet so conveniently close at hand . . . . He very nearly misses the next part of Odin's words.

"Your sorcery shall be limited and you will not be able to leave Midgard until the next festival of the moon."

"The next festival of the moon?" This is from his pet, and Loki turns to her.

Star isn't sure how to feel about Loki's 'sentence'. While part of her is relieved that he won't be imprisoned on the other side of the universe, having him on the same planet could pose problems.

She's having enough trouble keeping her two lives separate already. How much harder might that become, when she knows that Loki is near? How much more temptation might his presence provoke?

On the other hand, as her grandmother had been fond of saying, it's better than a kick in the teeth. Or having my memory wiped.

Loki isn't sure how he feels about this decree himself, if only for the limitation of his powers. It's very probable that he will be stripped of any staff or magic focus, but there are ways of getting around that. It's the tediousness of having to do things without magic that annoys him. Still, he bets that his mother has pleaded his case and it would be better to accept this offer than protest and cause trouble, particularly since Star is at hand.

But Odin isn't through yet.

"Midgard will be your confinement," he rolls out, sounding pleased with himself, "But not within the limits of their brief lifespans. You will have the whole of their timeline to observe and learn the folly of hubris, Loki. Theirs is a world filled with prime examples of it."

Oho. This is new. Loki considers this information and senses it could be to his benefit. All of Midgard's history, his to toy with? How provocative. How filled with possibilities.

How unexpectedly generous. The Allfather truly doesn't understand what he has just offered up. Loki manages a wry smile. "I accept your decision," he murmurs, not adding any title to the man on the throne. He shoots a glance at Star, adding, "And for my consort?"

The glint in Loki's eye worries Star immensely. Loki is having mischievous notions, she'd bet her degree on it. Which probably doesn't bode well for Odin's plan - not that she really cares about that - but no doubt it also doesn't bode well for her fellow humans. And, by extension, probably her.

And Odin's words irritate her to no end. 'Prime examples of hubris'? Um, look who's talking! People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, Odin. She sets her teeth into her lower lip and bites down until the urge to actually say that passes.

Well, she did tell Loki once that Odin sounded like a class-A dick, right? And so he is. I hate being right sometimes, she thinks, trying to hide a grimace.

"Given your capacity and inclination to disrupt the lives of others, I would think it best to send her back to her home," Odin rumbles. "However she has shown herself to be loyal to you, which I find-"

"Undeserved?" Loki demands, dangerously sweet. "Amusing?"

"Commendable, in an odd sort of way," Odin finishes. "Neither you nor Thor have ever been drawn to weak women."

Loki shoots a sidelong glance to his mother, who is trying to look demure, but the corner of her mouth is curling up.

Odin continues. "I leave your personal matters to you; wicked you may be, Loki, but you are still a prince and due that courtesy."

Star blinks. Did Odin just . . . compliment her? 'Neither you nor Thor have ever been drawn to weak women.' Huh. Fancy that.

He's still a dick, though. At least in her humble opinion.

Over on the sidelines, both Frigga and Thor appear to be smirking ever so slightly. Star's not sure if she should be worried or relieved by that. Even if they (and Loki) seem kind of pleased by how this is turning out, somehow she doubts Odin's actually letting Loki off that easily; there's a catch here that just hasn't become evident yet, she's certain.

"Very well, it is decided," Odin announces and rises from his throne, still majestic despite his years. He nods to the guards. "Take them to Heimdall and inform him of the sentence; he will know what to do. Oh, and Loki-" Odin pauses and glares at him with his one good eye, "Never visit Privaldr again."

Loki fights a smile, well-aware that showing one would annoy the Allfather. "I shall not."

The guards form a phalanx around them and they move out of the hall; Frigga flanks him on one side, and Thor moves to Star's other side in a show of honor and protection.

"Privaldr once tried to kiss me," Frigga tells him under her breath. "Once."

Loki shoots her a sidelong glance. "Oh dear."

"Odin has never forgotten," she murmurs with a hint of amusement.

They march along the shimmering bridge towards the Bifröst. Which is about when Star realizes Loki's never going to see the note she left him on the bed. Oh well, she sighs. Knowing him, he'd not be open to anything more she has to say on the matter anyway.

"What's this 'next festival of the moon' thing?" she asks Loki. "A year? A decade? A millennium? I'd like an idea how long I'm stuck entertaining you," she says as she tries on a half-smile to show she's not really serious. Much.

"It's an idiom," Loki tells her with a roll of his eyes. "Odin's way of saying 'until he is either in a forgiving mood, or Mother talks him out it', which means it could be as short as a month or as long as a century. Given his mood I would count on at least a year."

"Now Loki," Frigga interjects. "This particular sentence is rather like being sent to your room with all your favorite toys, so don't pretend to pout. And while you may not be able to leave Midgard, Thor shall have the capacity to act as messenger."

"If needed," Thor adds, making enough of a face to make Loki snicker.

"You won't be," Loki assures him with a sneer. "I can handle Midgard."

"Like last time?" Thor points out.

"Settle down, children," Star can't resist remarking, and from the corner of her eye she sees Frigga smiling over at her.

But Star's mirth is short-lived. She turns to Thor. "Are you going to tell SHIELD and the Avengers that Loki is on Earth?" she asks. "And also . . . about me?" she adds even more hesitantly. Maybe the latter wouldn't be such a big deal if she was single, but if SHIELD digs into her background, they'll quickly find out about her family and . . . the mental image of them dragging her husband in for questioning, or even just informing him of what she's been doing behind his back, makes her face burn with shame.

She wishes she'd never accepted Loki's invitation to join him in Niflheim. None of this would have happened.

Thor looks to Loki. "That depends on you, brother. Do you intend to overthrow the realm?"

Loki pretends to consider it, and shakes his head. "The Allfather has given me all of Midgard's history to roam; why should I bother with present day if there are other civilizations to study?"

Thor flashes a cheerful smile. "Then there is little need to worry the Midgardians of the present day. As for you, my lady," Thor looks to Star and inclines his head slightly, "Your affection for my brother is a private matter, as far as I am concerned. You still possess the Snakkestein, yes?"

Loki sees his pet nod, and he takes her hand, surprised at its coolness.

Star uses her free hand to pull the stone from her pocket, showing it to Thor. "Good," he says. "I will see to it that Heimdall does not alter its magic. Then, if ever you or Loki have need of me, you may summon me."

"Thank you Thor," Star answers, trying to smile, but it feels false on her face as she pockets the stone again. She can feel Loki's eyes on her and his fingers squeeze hers briefly, but she can't shake the sense of foreboding.

They all seem so unconcerned about Loki 'studying' human history but . . . is she the only one who thinks he may well try to take advantage of that? She has visions of herself winking out of existence as he accidentally kills one of her ancestors for refusing to kneel fast enough . . .

They reach the end of the bridge, and Loki hugs his mother and allows Thor to hug him which is both annoying and faintly kind. They withdraw, tactfully allowing Loki a moment with his pet as Heimdall moves to his podium and stands ready to activate the bridge.

"So little time and so much to say," Loki murmurs, cupping her face. "I can see your fears so clearly, Star mine, and I wish I could give you peace of mind." He loves the softness of her skin, and lets his thumbs caress her cheekbones. "Fortunately my mother approves of you, and with her blessing we shall be able to meet again, should you wish it as much as I do."

For one traitorous moment she almost wants to say she doesn't. Her life would be so much easier that way. 'Given your capacity and inclination to disrupt the lives of others' . . . Odin's words weigh heavily on her.

But can she abandon Loki? He's not made things easy for her, but . . . can she really go back to the way things were before he contacted her?

She can feel the small raised scabs of the bite-mark – her bite-mark – on his hand against her cheek. He still hasn't healed it yet.

It suggests that maybe there is something there. Some remnant of a conscience within him.

She makes her decision. "Yes," she says, reaching to wrap her hands around his. "I do wish it."

He kisses her deeply, heedless of their audience. Star is still trying to recover her breath from that kiss when Heimdall opens the portal and Loki is whisked away across the universe.

"Never fear. I am sure you will see Loki shortly," Frigga assures her, stepping up to stand next to Star. A moment later Thor appears on Star's other side, smirking.

Looking down from his podium, Heimdall inclines his massive head. "Where should you wish to go, Lady?" he rumbles.

Star manages to remember to ask to Heimdall to not only put her back in her office, but also to the same point in time she left it before Loki's summons. She's not sure if time moves the same in all the Realms, but she's not taking any chances.

The portal yanks her in, and light and darkness swirl and streak around her. She stumbles as her feet impact the ground, finding herself in her office again. It's thankfully empty of all her officemates, and a glance at her watch confirms it's still the morning of the day she left. She's lost a minute or two of Earth time, that's all.

She breathes a sigh of relief until she notices her sleeve is still ripped and bloodied. A minor problem, though. She rolls up both her sleeves and squares her shoulders as she starts to arrange her lecture notes.

If only all her Loki-related problems were so easily resolved.