Chapter Fourteen

Seven nights. That was how long she was given to research the stone. It was how long she had in Asgard. They fell into their routine seamlessly of him reading and her writing. She asked Loki if he saw what was written on the stone, but he told her he took it quickly and without inspection. So they tried to find answers that no tome provided and their time was up. Her time with Loki was up.

Leaving him was going to crush her, she knew that. She had always known that. She tried to push those thoughts away.

Hermione dressed in the clothes that was provided for her. The dress was a deep royal blue of an unknown silk, but it hung low, revealing her shoulders and thus the bite marks and bruises in the shape of Loki's teeth and fingers.

It gave her a great sense of pride, but she was uncertain about them showing. "Do they have anything more modest," she asked him.

From his supine position on the bed, he smiled, "perhaps, but I'd rather you not cover the evidence of our acts. It shows who you belong to."

She heated under his gaze. "Loki..."

"It is an order," he said with seriousness and finality.

She sighed. Although she couldn't have very well deny orders from a prince, she found that she didn't want to. Hermione had always been naturally bossy, and she knew with enough pressing, Loki would give into her, but she didn't want that. She liked the freedom that his nature gave her.

"I'm going to miss you," she said, almost to herself.

Loki swung his legs over the bed, sitting up and tugging her in his arms. "I'll see you again. I'll find my way to you."

"Without breaking the law," she asked teasingly.

"Never," he said pretending to be shocked causing her to laugh before he brought her to his lips briefly.

"Should we go," she wondered, worried that they'd be late.

Odin had summoned her that morning for her questioning. Fortunately, it was assured that it would not be of the sort one would give a prisoner. That didn't make her less nervous. Intimidating was not a strong enough word for how he made her feel.

Loki sprung up from the bed and took her arm. They walked through the castle toward Odin's study. She noticed how the guards they passed stared, she could feel them watch their retreating backs.

Loki's hand stayed on her lower back firmly, his thumb rubbing in circles. It was comforting, easing her frazzled emotions.

Then, a guard broke away from his station against a wall, placing himself in front of them. He took off his helmet revealing dirty blond hair, a scar that began at his hairline, crossed over his crooked nose and ended at his chin. Helmet under his arm, he brought a fist over his heart respectfully. "Prince."

They paused, the man kneeling at Loki's feet, his head bowed. Loki didn't utter a word, only looked down at him with disdain.

"I seek your forgiveness in the behavior I demonstrated during the trial."

It must have been the man that had treated her roughly. Hermione saw that he was fearful, not daring to look Loki in the face and that probably was best. His face was set in hatred, his fingers itching by the dagger at his waist.

"Perhaps your groveling would be best directed at the woman you mistreated."

The guard began shaking. "Ms. Granger, I ask your forgiveness for my slight."

Hermione was hardly able to believe the terror that was wracking the poor man. She nodded before she spoke, "yes, of course, you're forgiven."

"You may stand," Loki granted. "From now on you direct your apologies to the offended party. Take heed that if you treat her as property of mine or anyone else's again that you will owe more than an apology."

Hermione had a nasty feeling that he meant his life.

"Yes. Of course." The guard hung his head, returning to his post.

When they passed, Hermione looked over her shoulder at him. His head was just raising, his whole body trembling.

"You scared him," she chastised, looking forward.

"He deserved to be scared."

"Why are they afraid of you?"

"They treated me poorly in my youth. The tricky younger brother of the great and mighty Thor. I may have asserted my position."

"You should have been kinder to him."

"He thought of you as nothing more than an object. You may belong to me, but you are not property. There is a difference."

Loki said no more as they stopped in front of a door. As he went to open it, the guard on the left placed himself in his way. "I have my orders, Prince, only Granger may enter."

He took a deep breath and undid the clasp of his cloak draping it around her, making certain they were covering her wounds. "I'll wait here."

The guard opened the door and she stepped into a study. It was twice as large as Dumbledore's office, and held three times as many objects and books. She refrained her curiosity, wishing to touch and inspect all of them.

"Welcome, Ms. Granger." Frigga stood from behind the desk, approaching her. "I hope you're not disappointed, but I asked my husband if I could speak with you instead."

Relieved, Hermione let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. "Yes, of course, ma'am."

"Please, you may call me Frigga."

"Yes, thank you. Hermione." She steeled herself. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't learn anymore about the stone."

Figga's eyes were a gentle warmth, but sad. "I asked Heimdall to tell me more of you. You have an interesting history. You set a teacher on fire, and abducted and jailed a woman in a jar and you started a rebellion. You were in a war and vital to its victory."

"There were circumstances -"

"I know." Frigga touched her shoulder, her eyes warm but serious. "You are much like Loki."

She was like Loki? "I'm sorry?"

"Loki dances in the gray that you touch with love. Your light eases him. You affect him. I was informed of a conversation that was overheard. You asked him for mercy on behalf of a guard. If not for you, that guard would have suffered immensely."

"Frigga," she started, the name odd on her tongue. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand..."

She straightened, releasing her shoulder. "The stone said, 'true love will find a way.'"

Hermione blinked. "It was meant to find love?"

"Yes. When I saw the stone in your hand I knew the reason. When I inspected it, I knew who. Magic leaves a fingerprint and it was one I am most familiar with."

Hermione grimaced as a terrible feeling settled in her stomach. "Why not tell me?"

"You are a young mortal and this situation required caution."

"Why tell me now? Why order me to research the stone? You already knew everything."

"To give you time. It's a precious gift especially for a mortal, but I fear time is up and you, dear one, should know the truth. I'm sorry, Hermione. You may go."

She nodded, walking out into the hall. She knew that her face betrayed her emotions, but she didn't have time or privacy to be diplomatic about it - even if she was good at hiding her feelings. No, she knew that Loki would see her heartbreak.

He was leaning against the wall, one leg underneath him, flipping a dagger idly, but quickly straightened when he spotted her. He didn't seem surprised by her reaction, almost as if he expected it.

"Ms. Granger," he spoke formally.

"We need to talk."

Without a word, he waved his arm, offering her to walk beside him. The silence was deafening, the questions burning inside of her, demanding answers. Love magic... Loki's stone... Her blood ran cold. Loki had been lying since the beginning. He had lied to her that morning even.

When he closed the door behind him, Hermione wheeled to face him. "Tell me the truth, Loki."

He cocked his head at her sudden outburst. "I imagine that you had quite the riveting conversation with the Allfather."

"It was your mother."

He nodded, "ah."

She was feeling on the verge of panic and more than ever, she wanted her wand. "Did you create the stone?"

Loki cringed and forced out, "yes."

The tears fell and seared her cheeks. Her throat was thick with sadness, with betrayal. "Why me" she choked out.

"I was taken from Jountheim as a baby, as a pawn to be used to keep the peace between the realms. I lived in the shadow of a rash brother who could do no wrong. I was misplaced, lonely and I wanted something of my own. I wanted my soul mate."

The words hit her in her chest, knocking the breath out of her lungs. She fell into the desk chair, her hands on her knees. Her head swam. She had read about them, soul mates were incredibly complex, but were either natural or created through strong love. If natural (as her and Loki appeared to be), there was a draw toward each other.

She couldn't help but think of the spell for something must have been convoluted. On Midgard there wasn't even a spell to determine who your soul mate was, much less find them.

"Why now?"

"Because it took a millennia for you to be born. For you to be ready for me."

She looked up. Loki stood as still as a statue, watching her reaction.

"Soul mates," she breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't wish to frighten you."

Abruptly, she stood, the chair legs scraping against the floor loudly. "I was taken here, I was afraid! My wand had been confiscated! I thought my life was in danger!" She was yelling, her anger bubbling up from her anguish.

Shocked, he looked as if she'd slapped him. "I would never allow harm to come to you."

She shook her head. "You lied to me!"

"To save you from pain? Yes. In your best interest I will always lie!"

"How was any of this in my best interest?!"

"To spare you fear when you learn that a monster is your soul mate. My gift to you was ignorance."

She gawked at him. "You are not a monster! Loki, soul mates aren't random, you weren't a luck of the draw, we... Just are."

"But they aren't always happy, are they?"

Her chest was rising and descending rapidly, breath short. She let the tears fall, but as Loki moved to sweep them away she moved back. "I want my wand.

The corners of his eyes contracted in anger and pain, but her wand appeared in his hand. She took it.

"Goodbye, Loki."

"No!" He reached out for her, but she had already willed herself home.