A/N: Behold, Chapter 13!

I apologize for any and all mistakes!

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Hermione came to in the what appeared to be the late afternoon if she was going by the sun's position. The second thing she noticed was that the cabin Loki stole her away to was no longer bare. The bed was still undressed, but folded sheets, a thick comforter, and fluffy pillows were stacked at the foot of the bed. In the bathroom, her things were in there at the ready such as her toiletries kits, hair serums and conditioners, and her dental hygiene kit. Her closet was filled with her clothes, and there was dresser nestled against the wall packed with her casual wear, socks, knickers, and bras.

Loki must've magicked everything here from Stark Tower.

Taking her time walking through the cabin, she discovered it was bi-level, and had three spare bedrooms. Hers was the only one furnished. The sitting room where she and Loki first appeared last night had a squishy, sensible looking sofa and a furry rug facing the fireplace.

She reflected on what occurred before she'd fallen asleep.

There was going to be another invasion.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg and not even the real reason why he snatched her from Stark Tower.

The kitchen had the bare minimums when it came to cooking-wear: one skillet, one medium-sized pot, a teakettle, a series of stirring utensils, a cutting board, and a coffeepot. The cupboards and fridge were heavily stocked, and it worried her. How long was Loki planning on keeping her cooped up here?

It didn't help knowing that the only person likely to come looking for her would be Nott.

The Avengers wouldn't. Not because of the earful they probably got when going through the party's camera footage. It would be because Thor would tell his fellow comrades not to worry about her. He'd take care of it.

A lie.

Thor had known Loki was coming for her. He knew his brother would show up to the party sooner or later and deposit her halfway around the world.

Hermione should feel relieved that when Loki left Asgard, it was to not finish his endgame. He left to prevent it. As far as she could tell, Loki didn't hold back. He delivered answers to all but one of her questions. When she finally got to her last inquiry which concerned his wife, his expression turned sour and he told her there were far more important things to worry about.

"If you believe for one second, I'll let you have me again while you're bound to another woman, you're mistaken. It's possible I may forgive you for leaving and leading me to believe the worst in you, but we'll never be together as long as you're married to someone else," she had vowed.

"Sygn" he had begun stiffly, "will not divorce me. You're also being a hypocrite, Hermione. Were you not married when we first became acquainted with each other?"

"I did get divorced, though, and our relationship evolved. I thought you wanted to marry me. Why did you give me a ring when you knew you couldn't?"

That was the one question he didn't bother answering and chose then to vanish from sight.

Behind the stairs was a library/loft area, and the shelves were sadly barren. If Loki did summon all her belongings from New York, she'd at least have her books to keep her somewhat occupied for the weeks to come. She could throw herself into finishing the translation of the Bi-frost stamp which would benefit no one because she was in Norway and Jane was in New York.

Stomping back up the stairs, she stormed into her bedroom and then the loo to fiddle with the spouts of the tub. The pipes creaked, and the water was a tad murky before it turned clear, but at least the temperature was warm enough. Stripping out of her dress and tights and underwear, she sank into the bath and unsuccessfully blocked Loki from her mind.

The zoning out and ill-sleeping patterns he had before leaving Asgard was due to someone reaching out across the galaxies to have a few words with him. More like threats, actually. And then eventually promises.

Loki had given her a name, but she wasn't sure if he was the one making contact or the one he was worried about the most.

Thanos.

Grabbing the bar of soap on the shelf, she scrubbed her arms and neck, thinking of Loki's reply when she asked why he hadn't come forward about it sooner rather than taking off.

He had wanted to sort it out for himself. He hadn't gone to Earth right away but traveled the Void, this time purposefully with all intents and purposes to dissuade another attack. Needless to say, he failed and barely got out alive. He promptly returned to Yggdrasil and then to Earth with a plan of his own which required deflating his ego and ridding himself of pride.

Well, not completely. He didn't directly go the Avengers for help.

"Before Thor took me to the aircraft, I came forward about everything." Loki had rubbed his chin indecisively. "I'm not fond of humanity, but Midgard is useless to me without your kind. With the help of the Chitauri, Thanos will cause global extinction of every living thing on this planet and then move on to the other realms of Yggdrasil. This was all belayed to Fury in time."

Hermione drained the tub and then showered. Wrapping a towel around herself, she examined her closet and then peered outside her window. Sognefjord was beautiful. Lush, wet greenery surrounded her, and when she cracked the window open, the air smelt slightly salty from the sea. She couldn't see the ocean through the thicket of trees, but she could hear the waves and water rippling.

It was colder in Sognefjord than it was in New York. She dressed in a pink flannel shirt and a grey vest along with a pair of jeans and lace up boots. When she got outside and had a look at the property, she decided to get familiar with it before checking out the fjord.

There was a cellar in the back with a chain lock on it that was no match for wandless magic. She crept down the staircases and saw there wasn't anything down there save two generators for the cabin which explained the utter lack of heating and electricity the night before as opposed to this morning when she woke up.

She tried not to feel warm and tingly on Loki's consideration of her.

He wanted her to be comfortable.

But…she was without a cellphone and internet, and there was no telephone or television inside the cabin. He wanted her comfortable; however, he also wanted her cut off from the world.

Loki wanted her cut off from HYDRA.

"The plan was to be imprisoned on the helicarrier until HYDRA came for me. They need me for the Mind Stone and having me back on Midgard within reach will be too much of an opportunity to pass up. Even with all of Midgard's advances, your scientists will be unable to unearth the power it possesses anytime soon. When they've successfully captured me, and I falsely pledge my allegiance to their cause and have been shown the scepter, I'll take it and deliver it to Thor—"

"No, you won't."

A slow, wicked smile had split his face. "How is it you know that, but my brother and even Fury was fooled? They even had the mindless green beast at the ready to start studying the stone upon my return and the archer on duty to keep an eye out in case I double crossed them. By now, I'm sure they know I have. I failed to return with the scepter at the time they wished."

"You've scared them into desperation, and they've no choice but to go on you word which is more or less worthless. What do you plan on doing with the scepter?"

"The Avengers won't be enough this time to win the invasion. I'm going to build an army of my own. A portion of them will be HYDRA agents, and I'll take advantage of their weaponry and silos. Unfortunately, I won't be able to collect all the able bodied men and women, and they'll attempt to fight me. I predict it won't end well, so they'll try another tactic which will be you. They don't know about you yet, but they could possibly. In time. I'm not willing to risk that.

"Despite not knowing my overall plan, Thor does know I'll betray HYDRA, thus, making you a target. He won't come looking for you, Hermione. He'll know of my betrayal soon if he doesn't already, but he knows revealing you will be too much of a risk. You're not just my weakness, Hermione, you're his as well because of Jane."

There was a shed in the backyard, and Hermione slid the creaky doors aside and saw a steep, towering pile of cut firewood underneath a harnessed tarp. On the walls were an axe and miscellaneous landscaping tools. Behind the pile of wood—she almost didn't catch it—was a bicycle covered by a clear, heavy plastic tarp.

Closing and locking up the shed, Hermione squinted up at the sky and thought of Heimdall. She even waved and pictured him dipping his chin at her in response.

Hiking through the trees, her boots crunch over the debris of sticks and leaves. She looked behind her shoulder at the cabin and shoved her hands into the pockets of her vest, fingering her wand for comfort.

"I'll return this to you." Loki had given her the wand, and she hurriedly grabbed it out of his hand. "I wouldn't dream of leaving my witch unarmed."

Fingering the grooves and point, Hermione had asked, "If you're so worried about me being found by HYDRA, why not let me go to my world? They can't find me there."

"I don't want you there."

"You mean you won't be able to find me either."

"If they come, go wherever you like."

Pulling her wand out, she tapped her thumb on the handle. She could leave if she wanted to. Go into hiding by residing in any wizarding population of her choosing. Or even go back to New York and persuade her way back into the Avengers' good races by relaying them of what Loki's true intentions were regarding the scepter. Or…

She could stay here where only Loki could find her for the time being and stay the hell away from the Avengers. From Jane, especially.

Having made a decision, she cast a Muggle Repelling ward around the property of the cabin. Loki hadn't considered she had such a handy, little spell at her disposal. He was aware she could cast wards, but not such picky one. Truthfully, neither of them had seen the best and the worst of what they could do with their magic, and Hermione hoped it would never have to come to that. Seeing the best and worst of people usually meant being in a terrible situation with them. Jotunheim had been bad enough, thank you.

The fjord was absolutely stunning, and she walked along the shore for quite some time before finding a large rock to upon sit and enjoy the peace and quiet. New York had been so loud with its high density population and hustle and bustle. Pollution plagued the sky, and she couldn't see the stars there which she had grown to appreciate during her time in Asgard.

Here, being so far north, the sun already began to grow heavy in the west, and a few stars had already invited themselves into her view.

Squeals and giggles of childish laughter touched her ears, and she looked off in the distance to see a family with two men and three children. They were setting up an evening picnic as well as prepping their fishing rods. The oldest child, who had white blonde wavy hair and looked about eight, caught her stare and waved. Hermione smiled and returned the gesture.

After a while, she hiked back to the cabin, her tummy rumbling and her throat parched. She hadn't a thing to eat or drink all day. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Loki waiting for her. She thought weeks would go by before he'd deem it time to check on his favorite toy to ensure no one else dared play with it.

"Do you like it here?" he asked, strolling towards her with clasped hands behind his back.

Hermione nodded and locked the door, looping the key around the hook beside it. "I thought you wouldn't show up for weeks." She shirked her vest and draped it over one of the two wooden dining chairs at the table and brushed by him to get to the fridge.

"I wanted to make sure you were still here. That you hadn't run off to a place I could find you." He disappeared and then reappeared behind her where he caressed the side of her neck with the backs of his fingers. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Hermione scowled. She wanted to yell and kick and scratch at him. She wanted to tell him he did lose her. At the rate things were going, he was never going to have her again. There was no way their story was going to end well. A happy ending was impossible at this point. Even if this Thanos failed, Loki would still be a criminal for all the delinquencies he tallied for the many treasons he committed and will continue to commit. That scepter. Loki wasn't giving it up to anyone. It'd be his key to rule Earth once the dust had settled after Thanos.

In her peripheral, she saw the scepter laying on the table, the blue stone pulsing from beneath the wickedly curved blade. She tempted herself in summoning it to her and Disapparating with it. She'd take it to Wizarding London, to Gringotts and lock it in her vault where he or anyone else couldn't reach it.

And yet, she knew he needed it to build his army. She was conflicted on his method of forcing HYDRA agents to fight, but war was never black and white.

She fantasized about snatching the scepter from him when it was all over because already her and Loki's future looked rather dim and putting one more thing in between them was akin to beating a dead horse.

Sighing as Loki wrapped his long fingers around her tresses, she allowed him to leave a trail of kisses along the slope of her forehead to the tip of her nose. When he attempted the same treatment for her lips, she offered him her cheek instead which he took and then steadied on to the slope of her neck. His teeth and the tip of his tongue grazed the flesh, and she steeled herself, jerking away and shaking her head and his pinched, disappointed pout.

"How long will you punish me?" He thumbed her chin.

"I meant what I said." She turned around and opened the fridge.

His wandering hands skittered up her spine, kneading her flesh and muscles she had no idea smarted until he found them. "I ache for you, Hermione."

She bit her lip and tried not to lean into his seductive ministrations and focused on the twelve different types of jam Loki thought she needed. Oooh. Ligonberry jam. She hadn't had that since she was a child. Twisting the lid off, she smelt the sweet, fragrant goo and hoped to hell Loki knew her well enough to have provided crunchy peanut butter.

Speaking of, two strong hands had traveled southward and found residences on her bum. Without preamble, he gave her a good squeeze and said, "This is looking more perfect than usual."

"Loki," she grumbled, setting the jar back on the shelf and glaring at him over her shoulder. "Stop. I'm hungry and I want to eat."

He licked his lips and dropped his gaze. "As do I."

Her cheeks burned, and she grabbed the slab of Jarlsberg and the container of butter. She set them on the counter by the stove, and Loki followed, pressing his front into her back and whispering into her ear, "Have you missed me at all, Hermione? I know you've been angry with me, but surely your feelings for me didn't diminish overnight."

"They didn't," she assured curtly, "But a good portion flew the coop when I found out you're married."

"What would you have me do? I told you she will not divorce me. Believe me, Hermione, I have tried all but killing her to be rid of her. Would you have me do that? Kill her so I can have you?"

"God, no!" She stared at him wildly. He sounded contemplative. "Is she aware at all of your dislike for her?"

"Like you, she's punishing me. I was dishonest with her from the beginning and when she could take no more, she left for another realm, taking the other half of the marriage bonds with her. Only the king—my brother—can break them, and we have to both be present for the ritual and willing. Hermione, we are only married by law. You and I can still have a future—"

Growling, Hermione fetched the skillet from beneath the stove and slammed it on a burner. "I want to be your wife! I want to be bound to you forever! I want you to stop doing shit that's going to compromise our future because at this rate, I'm looking at eternity alone while you waste away in the palace dungeon or you're simply dead because you're an imbecile and you give people too much incentive to kill you!"

"Hermione—"

"I can't walk the pathway you've set up for yourself." She walked over to the table and picked up the scepter. It was heavy, and she could feel the power from the stone pulsate within the shaft. There was a strange, buzzing warmth to it, and she extended it to him. "Take it, but know you'll never have me and this and your wife in the long run. I want to be your everything, and I want to be enough for you."

Loki didn't take the scepter, so she stepped closer to him. "Take it. You can't have two of your chinks in one place. Besides, you need your army."

He cautiously took the scepter from her, his expression schooled in perfect ambivalence and then he was gone. Like her appetite. But she knew she needed to eat something. She made herself a grilled cheese sandwich with a glass of chocolate milk, both of which she regurgitated due her stomach be unused to the high-carb and high-fat content of her meal.

Into the evening, she sipped on ginger tea and nibbled on crackers while flipping through one of her published books until she was too tired to read. Dressing her bed, she slipped underneath the covers and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Days went by which turned into weeks. Soon, a month had come and gone since Loki had taken her from New York. She hadn't seen him since he left with the scepter, but he had dropped by when she wasn't looking. A few times a week after her morning run or hike, fresh flowers in a vase would appear on the table. Sometimes they were native to Norway but more often than not, she'd have to read up on the genus using the gift-wrapped book as a point of reference. He had left it for her several days into her stay at the cabin.

The book on flowers had not been the only book he'd given to her. Twice a week, she'd wake up to a new novel or tome or manuscript on her bedside table. Some of the texts were quite rare, the pages pristinely restored yet so brittle to the touch, she reckoned he must've stole them from a museum or a locked-up archive.

On the days she didn't recieve books or flowers, Loki left her sweets ranging from Turkish Delights to soft squares of salted caramel to Belgian chocolates to marzipan to an Ion Break chocolate bar.

Needless to say, he was trying to woo her.

Although, he did overdo it when her food supply was restocked and she saw he left a very expensive brand of Turkish coffee beans by the coffee maker instead of the Gevalia.

No, Loki actually overdid it when she got out of the shower one morning and saw a small, perfectly cubed present beside the bathroom sink. Wrapping a towel around her, she investigated the object and soon discovered it was a jewelry case that had two perfectly pink pearl earrings nestled in the velvet.

Hermione wasn't sure what all the gifts meant. Did they mean he chose her over power? Were they representing an apology from him for leaving Asgard the way he had? Or were they incentive for her to keep him while he performed his misdeeds upon her world and the people of it?

Returning from her evening hike, Hermione expected to see a fresh bouquet of flowers on the table but there wasn't one. Pained groans came from upstairs, and she brandished her wand, bolting up the stairs to find Loki bleeding profusely on the carpet in front of the fireplace. It looked like at one point he'd been laying on the couch—given the crimson pools on the material—and had fallen to the floor.

A few feet from him was the scepter, but she paid it little mind as she rushed to Loki and examined the busted armor, the tear in his leather, and the gaping hole in his side. She studied his face and saw he was practically unconscious with his eyes closed and his hand barely able to put pressure on the wound. Sweat beaded at his temple, and she saw blood stain his whimpering lips.

Forcefully, she removed his hand from his side and tore at the leather to reveal the problem. Whatever had ripped a hole in him had punctured a lung. Demigod or not, the wound was fatal, and he was losing so much blood. Her hands were covered in it, and her wand nearly slipped from her fingers when summoning her first aid kit. The box glided out of her room at a deadly speed and landed with a thud by her bent knees. Yanking it box open, she dumped all that she had onto the wooden floor, some of the vials rolling in all directions. She grabbed the essence of dittany and paused when noticing Loki's eerily still form. His lips were no longer quivering, and the tips of his fingers and ears were turning blue. Real blue. And it was starting to spread. She was unsure of what that meant, but it couldn't be good.

She cupped his face, and his skin was like ice. "Stay with me. Stay with me, Loki. It's okay. I'm here." She picked up the essence of dittany again and cut and removed Loki's armor with a flick of her wand. Her brow furrowed at the broken bit stretching the skin over his ribcage, and she muttered a healing spell and expected to Loki to yell from his bone being reset, but he stayed silent and motionless. So motionless that she realized he wasn't breathing.

Blue continued to spread over his skin, and Hermione theorized what that meant, but there was still time. She could save him. She would.

Squirting generous gushes of the essence of dittany over his flesh, she then levitated him and the medical supplies to her bedroom. She laid him on the bed and set to work on an IV. Hurriedly, she filled the bag with Blood Replenishing potion and hung it on the nearest poster of the bed before shoving the needle into a vein on the side of his forearm.

Hermione paced the floor, her eyes never leaving his chest, waiting for it to move. Seconds and then minutes went by, and Loki was as blue as he hand been when she rescued him in Jotunheim. Gripping her wand, she yielded Rennevarte after Rennevarte. On her twelfth one, his chest sprung up and his mouth opened to suck down air, and the sound was so sweet and perfect, a tear slipped down her cheek. She rechecked the needle in his IV and saw the tube had hardened and developed frost. She quickly cast a Warming Charm, so he'd continue to receive the potion he desperately needed.

An hour later, Loki was still unconscious and blue when she switched out the IV bag. The area in which he'd been wounded was puckered and swollen and resembled a crevice. Hermione squirted a few more droplets of dittany on the flesh and left him alone to wash her hands and reorganize her first aid kit before going into the sitting room to tidy up the mess.

The rug was a loss and no amount of magic was going to fix it, so Hermione rolled it up and lugged it outside and into the shed. She'd burn it later.

The scepter still lay discarded on the floor, and she picked it up and set the staff on the mantle.

Close to three o'clock in the morning, Loki finally stirred. Hermione promptly set down her book and got up from the chair she'd taken from the dining table. She watched in silence as he assessed where he was and what caused him to get there. His forehead wrinkled, and he rubbed his eyes which was when he noticed his blue state. He clenched and then unclenched his fists, the blue residing from his skin in favor of his usual pinkish-pale hue.

Hermione went up to the foot of the bed and stared at the crater-like scar on his side.

"I'm all right," Loki murmured, his tone irate and his voice thick from rest.

She said nothing and climbed onto the bed, crawling up to him and laying a tender kiss on the crater-like scar on his side. She repeated the sentiment several more rounds before guiding her lips up and over his ribcage, his chest, sternum, all the way up to his mouth.

Not terribly long later, Hermione rolled off Loki, who was already asleep, and removed the rest of her clothes, carelessly throwing them on the floor. She got underneath the covers and was too tired to feel any sort of regret for her actions. When she awoke late the next morning, she was tangled up in the sheets and alone. Loki was gone, but on the pillow where he'd been, there was a single peony. She put the petals to her nose, smiling despite herself. Despite how she went back on her word and had a go at him the moment he was awake and capable of touching her without harm.

Days started to come and go once more. There were still presents but never any sign of Loki. Three weeks passed, and she started to grow anxious. Not about Loki, but something else. As she alphabetized her haircare products underneath the sink, the stack of feminine items mocked her as did her calendar when she crossed off the days. Once another week had failed again to deliver her monthly visitor, she knew she had to pay a visit to the nearest town.

The bicycle in the shed needed a touch of magic to stop the chains from creaking and to pump up the tires. Another spell, this one a cleaning charm, her humble object of transportation was ready for her to flick up the kickstand and ride with a copy of the map she made from the Norway atlas Loki got for her a few weeks back.

Hours later and her wallet much lighter—tourist towns, holy shite—she returned to the cabin and took the pregnancy test right away. As the stick decided on whether it wanted to show her one or two pink lines, she paced the bathroom floor and wondered how exactly she should break the news to Loki if the test came out positive. And how exactly was a baby going to influence their lives?

Six months ago, she would've been ecstatic and bouncy and crossing her fingers.

Now, the seconds were ticking by too quickly for her liking, and she was frightened. Things weren't good between her and Loki, and Earth was close to being paid another visit by an unwelcome guest.

Hermione tried to comfort herself, pointing out she didn't feel pregnant. Aside from a skipped menstrual cycle, there weren't any other symptoms.

Four weeks in, though. Twenty-eight days wasn't far into the scheme of things. Nausea, breast-tenderness, cravings, and sluggishness had another week or two before they came knocking on her door.

The timer on her watch beeped, and she picked up the test and blew out a long, slow breath when seeing the two pink lines.

"Okay," she said to herself, shoving the test back into his box and throwing it in the rubbish bin. She went downstairs into the kitchen and started rifling through the cupboards, having been hungry before she got home. Now all she saw were items non-recommendable for a fetus.

Closing the fridge, she rested against the opposite counter close to the sink and told herself she was being absurd. True, at least a quarter of her food supply she couldn't have anymore, but maybe she could give it away to her nearest neighbor who lived a mile and a half north through the shrubbery.

Since she was a pescatarian, all her meat supply would have to go. It'd probably be best to get rid of her ice cream and her cheese, as well. And while she was next to it, she might as well unplug her coffee machine and stow it in a cupboard.

With her mental checklist of things she could no longer have, she made one about the things she needed which would require another bicycle trip to town.

Or…

She could make Loki get them for her.

Glancing at the bouquet of flowers on table which had been there for a couple of days, Hermione found a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled a note to him. She'd done this before here and there, leaving notes for him to read and ignore. This time, however, she hoped 'I'm pregnant' would grab his attention as opposed to 'I think we should talk.'

The next day while she was out for a stroll at the shoreline of the fjord. The warmer weather had brought more people to the area, so she put her hood up over her ball cap and tried to stay out of the tourists' pictures. Close to midmorning, she sat down close to the water and rested her legs. A few minutes later, she felt the presence of a man beside her. She glanced up and sighed when seeing it was Loki. As if it would've been anyone else.

To blend in with the others, he wore Midgardian attire consisting of khaki trousers and a white polo shirt. His hair appeared lighter, too. Wordlessly, he sat down beside her, and she said, "Are you healed completely?"

His blank expression transformed into one of annoyance.

"Don't look at me like that. You almost died. I can ask. I can worry about you."

"Are you sure?" he hissed, his eyes flicking to her middle.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure enough. I can't really go to a doctor right now, but there are healers in my world I could go see."

He raked his fingers through his hair and stared up at the sky. "Is there discomfort you're experiencing that could be linked to it."

"No."

He hummed noncommittally. "I know Thor plans on taking Jane back to Asgard soon. My brother has foolishly let her become involved in the situation. My sources tell me she's attempting to ceased her attempts on creating a bi-frost in favor of opening a portal. The Avengers want to shove an army through it and meet the Chitauri halfway. They wish to avoid a battle on Midgard entirely."

"…oh…" She bit her lip and brought her knees in closer to. "Where does that leave you and your army?"

"They'll go wherever I tell them"

"Won't it be confusing for the Avengers if you show up with a mass of HYDRA soldiers? What if they try to kill them, too? And what exactly are you going to do with them afterwards if you defeat the Chitauri?"

Loki sniffed, eyeing in apprehension the squealing children a few feet from them. "I'm not going to do anything with them. They served their purpose, and I'll leave them to their own devices."

"In outer space? With the Avengers? That'll start another battle, Loki."

"My concern is preventing Midgard and Yggdrasil as a whole from being destroyed. If the children still want to play after dark, who am I to ruin their fun?"

Hermione exhaled in frustration, frowning at the water. Why did she love this…this thing? Why did fate decide to put him in her pathway with Cupid at the ready?

"I'm going back to the cabin." Ignoring his perplexed face, she got up and started towards the cabin. She thought he would run after her, perhaps even cause a scene, but he didn't. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was gone, and she made the trek alone.

At the cabin, he was waiting for her, dressed in his armor with his scepter in hand. "Are you going to have the child?" he asked before she even closed the door.

"Yes."

"Then you will have little choice but to return to Asgard with Jane. I'll manage to get Thor alone and tell him what has come to pass. Despite everything, he would not dream of even leaving you here on Midgard in such a state."

She folded her arms and said, "I don't want to go back to Asgard, Loki."

"By all means, have the bastard here then." He simpered cruelly. "Your mortal healers will be besides themselves when you deliver a half frost giant. I'm sure even your magical practitioners will have a good scare."

"Daphne's birth was perfectly normal. I have no reason to believe my pregnancy or the delivery should be any different."

"Are you really going to chance it because of your pride?"

Exhaling raggedly, she sat down in one of the dining chairs, the feeling of exhaustion hitting her like a soda can on a train track. He was so tiresome, honestly.

"I really don't want to go back," she said softly, rubbing her eyes, "but I will if I suspect complications, and then I'll come straight home when the baby's born."

Loki opened his mouth and then shut it, his mouth settling in a thin, residing line. His fingers tightened around the staff of the scepter, and he swept his aloof gaze around the kitchen. "You've been here for two months. I imagine you'd like a change of scenery."

"I don't want to leave. I like it here." She nodded. "It's nice."

"I meant for the evening. I have matters to take care of first, but I'll be here at six o' clock to fetch you."

"Where—"

And he was gone.

Hermione chose to wear a simple beige skirt and white blouse. She wasn't entirely sure where Loki was taking her, but she assumed dinner. As she dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, she realized it had been over a year since their last, real date. It'd been their first and last. Everything following had been steamily clandestine. Sex, secret kisses, and secret glances. None of those things had been bad, but there should've been more depth added, especially when they became exclusive amongst Asgard.

Scoffing, she thought of how she shouldn't regret not having a proper relationship with Loki. He was Loki.

Nevertheless, she put on an extra coat of mascara and smoothed into her hair a second pump of serum. Instead of just lotion, she applied a spritz to her neck and wrists and…ahem…upper legs. Putting that away, she saw her jewelry box which was filled with more sentimental trinkets than actual jewels: her soldered bands from her marriage with Ron, the engagement ring Loki gave her, and the pearl earrings were in there.

She would not be slipping on the engagement ring, but she did consider the pearls. Their luster and shine and hue were perfect, and they reminded her of her late grandmother's pearl which were left to Aunt Daphne and then passed onto Jane.

"All right, you bastard," she muttered while putting on an earring. "You win this one."

At six o'clock sharp, she walked out of her bedroom and was enveloped from behind by Loki. A quiet oh escaped her mouth and then did an ooooooh when he buried his face into her neck and inhaled greedily.

"Do you greet everyone that way when you appear behind them?" she remarked.

"You're lovely."

It was impossible to fight the blush on her cheeks. Looking nice had been her goal and even though it was naughty and against the rules, she let him grab her bum while he listed off a number of wretched acts he wanted to inflict upon her.

"No, not tonight," she replied, reached up and behind to cup his neck. "And probably not ever until—"

"So you said, Hermione, but it was you who broke, remember?" He patted her belly as if she'd forgotten.

She dropped her gaze, her blushing cheeks reddening further. "You almost died," she said softly. "There was a minute I thought you were gone." She turned, her hands palming where a hole had been. "I also thought mortal weapons couldn't harm you like that."

"The staff," he held up a cane topped with the blue stone, "was momentarily displaced during battle with the HYDRA agents. I've come to discover they're unimpressed I've dabbled in their comrades' paradigms."

"How'd they manage to get it off from you. You're stronger than them, and their weapons—"

"Aren't reduced to simple explosive aiming devices."

"What was it then?"

His tone was bitter. "He wasn't so much as an it."

Hermione stared up at him in surprise. "A man did that to you? How?"

"Why? Are you looking for ideas for when you can no longer stand me?"

"Don't tempt me," she said, deadpanned.

His pointer finger fiddled with one of her pearl earrings. "He was fast. Much faster than a human has the right to be. He managed to take the scepter and injure me with it. As you know, I barely escaped with the scepter and my life. I caused more damage wrangling it from him, thus, the broken rib. For his insolence, I broke two of his."

She was going to ask why he spared the man's life, but came to the conclusion on her own that Loki probably hadn't the energy nor the time. His instinct for survival had outweighed everything else.

Hermione had no idea where Loki planned on taking her, but she assumed somewhere within Norway since he seemed attached. On the contrary, he brought her to Kos.

Standing on the sandy beach in much warmer, humid weather than Norway could provide, Hermione elicited a gasp and then an incredulous chuckle. She furrowed one brow and quirked the other at Loki and said, "How did you know to bring me here? I never told you about this place."

"You and Jane prattled on about this place constantly back on Asgard."

"Yes, but you weren't there when we did..."

He grinned.

"…oh, of course you were. What was I thinking?"

"Do you like it?"

She pursed her lips at him, and her body leaned into his on its own accord, her arms wrapping around his middle. "Are you really asking me that when you know full well what a bad, sneaky man you are?"

At a restaurant in the hotel of Palazzo del Mare, butterflies fluttered madly inside Hermione's belly as she intently studied the menu. First the wooing of books, flowers, candy, and now this? What was Loki's angle? Aside from the obvious and that he planned on seducing her. Oh, yes. Their little trip to Kos—a place of wonderful childhood memories—with the beach and the stroll to the five-star hotel with gourmet cuisine. Loki was looking for a shag.

"I'm not as familiar with Greek history as you are. Would you care to stop by the ruins after dinner and provide me a brief history on how they got there?" said Loki.

Her grip tightened on the menu, and she blew out a long breath. Now he was playing the 'I'm so beguiled by your brilliance and ancestry. Do tell me more' card. She was already so pathetically and destructively in love with him. All of the wooing and courting was truly going to end her. She was already neck deep with functionless limbs. Loki was anticipating a full on burial before the night was over.

"If you'd really like to," she replied, closing her menu and setting it aside.

The server arrived, and they ordered their drinks and meals. Hermione declined the offered wine and ordered the fresh grape juice instead along with a vegetarian pasta dish. When Loki tried to play off he wasn't quite ready to order to hide the fact how unfamiliar and distrusting he was of Midgardian cuisine, she ordered for him.

Grabbing the menu out of his hands, she handed it to the server and said, "He'll have the same but with the braised lamb, cooked medium rare."

He glared at her, and it was it hot. She smiled at him brightly and under the table nudged his foot with her own because they were on a date, and he could be so petulantly cute sometimes. Those defiant, pretty blue-green eyes; she wanted their baby to have them.

"You'll like it. I promise," she told him when the server left. "My grandma would make it at family get-togethers when I was little."

"You don't eat lamb," he stated, eyes narrowing like she wished illness upon him.

"I did when I went to my grandparents. I don't know how it worked with yours, but when I visited mine, I ate what was given or else."

Loki arched his eyebrows. "Or else what?"

"I don't know. That's what my grandpa would say. And my mum for that matter. It was a way to keep me in line, not that I was unruly by any means. My main fault was the habit of pointing out people's inadequacies. Their learning inadequacies."

"Had?"

"I was worse then. I didn't have friends because of it for a very long time. It didn't help that I was an unfortunate looking thing. Not only was I rude and swotty, I was borderline hideous. My teeth and hair went in all directions. As you can imagine, I was an easy target in both primary and secondary school."

Loki circled the rim of his wine glass with the tip of his middle finger, his focus on the movement. "I…know a little of what being an easy target is like."

He left it at that, and she didn't push. Loki never talked of his childhood experiences and what it was like to grow up in Asgard, though she concocted plausible scenarios. Despite growing up to…what he'd grown up as, she very much doubted he had a legitimately hellish childhood. He had a mother, a father, a home, his own bedroom, and three square meals a day along with dessert. But like many, Loki's resentment and hatred stemmed from the things he wanted, not the treasures he had.

It probably made matters worse that he was different. As skilled as Hermione imagined he was being a warrior, he was a mage first and foremost. When his tricks failed him, he'd then engaged. Asgard possessed an extremely militant aura, and anyone who even bothered looking at Loki would know he was not a soldier. And since he wasn't one now, she reckoned he wasn't one in his younger years either like Thor and Thor's friends.

Loki may have had all the essentials as a child with the exception of social acceptance and involvement. Two important things often overlooked by parents and peers. Hermione had eventually obtained those in her adolescent years (sort of), but more so in her adult life. Loki, she heavily suspected, never got the opportunity.

Not that Hermione was making excuses for Loki and his actions. Everyone in Yggdrasil has the right to agency. Loki chose the pathway he wished to journey, and no one but himself put him there. He chose to wallow in bitterness and point fingers at those he blamed for his failures.

Her mood automatically soured, and she partly wished she could order a few glasses of wine to oust the somberness building up inside her. She touched her stomach and thought it might be possible alcohol wouldn't hurt her baby since its father was a demigod. However, she couldn't bring herself to chance it.

Their food was brought out, and she gifted Loki a haughty smile when he seemed to enjoy his dish. Twirling her own pasta around her fork, she winked at him and said, "Maybe if you're a good boy, I'll make it for you the next time you come to visit me. And if you behave yourself then, I'll make sure there's chocolate pudding for dessert."

The expression he gave her caused her to wonder if she herself wasn't itching for a shag.

No, no, no!

Then why'd she bother spritzing her legs?

He's married, the angel on her right shoulder reminded. The voice sounded like her mum's.

He's separated, the devil on her left reminded. Of course he sounded like Loki.

You love him, both said.

But…, said the angel.

So…, said the devil.

The battle between good and evil inside her head screeched to a halt at the sight of two new patrons being shown to their table across the dining area.

"Oh, my God," she hissed, ducking her head and putting a hand up to shield her face. "No, this can't be happening. It's impossible."

Seriously, what were the odds?

Loki bristled across from her, and he gripped his cane. "Who's here? Is it—"

"We need to leave now." A server walked by them, and she asked for the check.

Heart ramming inside her chest, she whispered to Loki, "My ex-brother in law and his wife are over there on…no, don't look, you idiot. If they spot us, Bill's going to tell my ex-husband who's going to tell my friend Harry who's going to call my old boss, the one I was working for when you decided to kidnap me—"

"You were practically willing."

"—and explain to him I was seen in Kos on a date." Hermione's shielding hand clenched and unclenched. "Loki, I wasn't exactly honest with you on what I used to do for work, but let's just say if I'm spotted having a swimmingly good time with you by certain people, I could get in a lot of trouble. Like treason kind of trouble. Nicholas Fury may overlook what I did in Asgard with you because of Thor's good name and word, but others will not be so polite."

Hermione could not count on her little outing ending with Nott. They may have an understanding and deep respect for one another, but he had a job to do.

Bemusedly, Loki sniffed and carelessly offered her his hand. "It's going to be all right," he said, bored.

She tried to smile and put her hand in his, expecting a comforting squeeze, but what she got was a change in scenery instead. She and Loki were no longer at the restaurant but in the cabin, sitting at the table.

"We didn't pay," she lamented.

Loki grabbed her hand before she could move it away. "You told me your employment history. You did some degree of law enforcement in your world, catching rogue wizards and whatnot before concluding that kind of life wasn't for you, so you started writing textbooks for university level European history and folklore classes. What did you fail to mention, my dearest witch?"

Hermione winced and hesitantly, she confessed, "I worked for a discreet branch of MI-6. MI-6 is—"

"I know what MI-6 is," he interjected. "What work did you do for them?"

"…"

His fingers dug into her wrist painfully. "Tell me."

"Let go of me."

"Tell me, Hermione."

His hold was unmerciful, and her wince turned into a glare. "Do you really want to know?"

Before he could reply, she summoned the dagger from the sheath he had hidden underneath his overcoat and sliced his forearm through the sleeve with it, and she wrenched her hand from his. She leapt up from her chair and put the blade to his throat, the tip resting on his jugular.

"The reason I cut my hair, Loki, was because the man I was sent to kill didn't appreciate my cheek, so he sliced me from here," she moved the blade from his neck to a few inches above his shoulder and then glided it downwards at an angle, skimming over his jugular again, Adam's apple, and to the top of his left pectoral, "to here."

She watched him swallow and then lean his head back, a perfect mask of ambivalence on his face. "You kill people," he said.

"I kill murderers, terrorists, crime bosses, prostitution ring leaders—"

"You kill people," he repeated.

Hermione momentarily lowered her gaze to his chest and then back to his eyes. "It's hard for me to think of them as people when they've committed such horrible crimes."

"I've done horrible things, so where does that leave me?"

"Have you ever snatched young girls from their families and sold them and their virtue to the highest bidder?"

He frowned.

"Have you stormed into a school and slaughtered everyone because the education of little girls and young women was taking place there? Have you ripped out the hearts of children to enhance your spell work? And if you decided not to kill them, did you suffer them to child prostitution? You are chaos and far from innocent, Loki Odinson, but your misdeeds are pink and fluffy compared to the men and women who've ended up on the wrong side of my wand."

She lifted the blade and then reversed it, pressing the handle into his chest in offering. He took it, and she started towards the stairs. Over her shoulder, she said massaging the bruises on her wrist, "I'm going to bed. Alone."

"You believe I think differently of you," he called after her from his chair.

She paused on the middle stair. "I know you do, but that's not what's going through your mind right now." He appeared at the top of the staircase, no longer dressed in his nice evening suit but in his full armor, helmet and scepter included. "You're thinking my world is self-destructive and in need of a firm hand to keep her children in line."

"I could give you a Midgard free from murder, rape, and slaughter. With you by my side as my queen, we could rule both dimensions this realm has to offer. Hermione, freedom is what made those beasts you justifiably killed. A freedom-less world is a peaceful one."

"Do not mistake pointing your scepter at the droves and saying or else as peace."

"It's safe."

"For you. It's safe for you." She climbed the rest of the way and then sidestepped him to get around him. "And it wasn't freedom which caused those people to turn into monsters. It was pride, entitlement, selfishness, greed, lack of humanity. The list could go on. Loki, you could try and persuade in getting me to agree with you until you're literally blue in the face, but I will never agree with you. I fought in a war for freedom. I suffered the marks from it." She scrunched up her sleeved and removed her glamour with the wave of her hand to reveal her Mudblood scar. "I'd suffer a thousand more to keep it—"

He kissed her. Long and deep. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, the metal of his helmet cool against her skin. "Beyond Yggdrasil are worlds like this one, millions and billions of people scattered across their lands. Each one of them are ran by a single government. Do you know why that is?"

"I don't care."

"You are so stubborn," he snapped and then kissed the spot between her brows before resting his chin atop her head. "I have to go, but sooner or later, I'll give you an answer whether you want it or not. Take care yourself." He palmed her belly. "This, too."

A peck on the lips later, and he was gone.

She retired to her bedroom and shoes and all, she fell boneless-like on the mattress. Her and Loki's date had not ended like she thought it would.

Never mind the internal conflict she had dinner, she ruddy well expected they were going to have sex. And now…now they were both certain what was hidden underneath each other's fronts. She worked to kill, and he slaved to dictate. They sounded like such an unsexy and catastrophic couple, even to her own ears that she predicted sex with Loki was going to be put on hold for, like, indefinitely.

Who was she kidding?

Three months. She'd give herself three months, and then she'd be barking up his tree again all hussy-like because there was something about him she couldn't get enough of and didn't want to.

Drumming her fingers on her belly, she said aloud, "Maybe he'll calm down a bit when you're born. You know, like, realize the important things in life. Because if he doesn't I'm going to have to…" She swallowed thickly and tears blurred her vision. "I'm going to have realize the important things, too, and I fear I can't allow him make the cut."

To be Continued...