Loki had never imagined circumstances on Jotunheim that would bring him anything but misery. However, he strolled onto the pathway that had mysteriously appeared upon the banishment of Fenrir with a spring in his step and the assurance that their scraps of a plan finally fit into a cohesive whole.

The majority of this journey passed with him uncertain of the existence of the Fang of Fenrir, but it now rested safely tucked in his pocket dimension. Roska still retained her power. She had returned his boots to him and appeared steady as she put on her own as well as her amulets. While he hated every moment of his physical illusion being suppressed, the destruction of the invisibility casting meant that Heimdall was likely to have seen him – for it was a sensible assumption that after invading Midgard, the All-Father would be looking for the rest of eternity to yank him back home on a leash – which made for an excellent excuse to goad Roska into creating the memory casting.

The throne of Asgard rested soundly within his grasp.

Loki offered a hand to help Roska up. The pathway was one of stone, rather than ice, covered with a thin layer of snow and leading from the edge of the plateau towards higher ground. The path rose in uneven ledges, hastily carved.

Roska eyed his hand like a viper's nest. Whatever happiness she had felt at finally holding the Fang no longer showed on her face. Loki had thought Roska would be ecstatic to have her faith in its existence rewarded, but no doubt she had realized what they must do next. And whatever camaraderie their trials here had bought him faded in the light of time she now had to consider the implications of their actions.

Roska ignored his hand and pulled herself up onto the higher path. She peered off at a distant point and made a cutting motion in another unsuccessful attempt to open a rift. While most of the warding against magic vanished with Fenrir, a barrier remained to keep them from leaving by any way but this path or the tunnels. Loki thought that the barrier, along with the labyrinth, might predate its use as the Fang's resting place.

When he voiced the theory aloud, Roska had sighed and said, "Then I suppose I had best not attempt to break it." Still, she made periodic efforts to split open a rift.

"Eager to be away?" Loki asked.

Roska rubbed her hands together. "And you are not?"

"It was trying, admittedly, but in meeting Fenrir we have made this a quest for the ages. Not that we shall ever share it, of course. And I was able to get a glimpse of who you were before the 'Norns' took your memories."

Learning her true name gave Loki an opportunity to delve into Roska's past. He was curious enough to have an archivist search through records for a trace of Sigyn Bathurdottir. Her past could lead him to the "Norns," whom he would be very interested in meeting. Otherwise, the information may become useful in other ways, depending on who Roska was related to and such.

Roska did not share his curiosity. "Say nothing of it to me," she commanded.

"So you remember nothing?" questioned Loki. The amulet must have hidden the memories again. "Are there gaps or does your mind piece together those moments into something else?"

"Do not test my patience on this."

Loki took in the fear that made Roska's voice tremble, and, for once, he bit his tongue. He did not know the specifics of how the memory casting worked. However, it seemed conceivable that bringing up memories risked affecting the casting should he cause her to remember. Roska would be useless to him in a child's state of her mind. And it was not a fate he wished upon her.

"He killed a hundred Frost Giants just like you!"

Loki grimaced. Nor was it a side of Roska that he wished to see again. Although, not a surprising one.

"Very well," he acquiesced. "We shall not discuss it then."

Loki let the crunch of snow fill the air instead, his mood dampened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roska reach towards him with a look of regret, but she pulled back at the last moment.

They traveled at a steady pace until Roska flung out an arm to stop him. Loki stumbled, lost in thought over perfecting how to best convince her to use the memory casting. He looked about for some danger. Nothing met his eye. Roska had turned her gaze upon the cliff that the path led towards. With a glance at him, she tapped an ear. Loki strained to listen, but could not hear anything unexpected. Just wind and a sparse creak of ice.

The air around them shimmered in a protective sound barrier. Yet, Roska silenced him with, "I must listen," as she crept onwards.

Soon, Loki heard it as well. Voices. The closer the voices grew, the more familiar they sounded. By the time the path reached its end, he had placed them. He stepped onto the plateau with the hole leading down to the labyrinth. The path crumbled silently into nothingness behind them. Loki did not notice. He was much more interested in the figures of Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun standing around the hole, as well as the mass of troops stationed about the plateau. The Rainbow Bridge must have been repaired.

"I still think I should go tell them," Fandral said, twirling his rapier in one hand. "Thor and Sif ought to know that Loki and his companion have gotten their hands on the Fang. And that they are no longer visible. After all, Heimdall took the trouble to send word."

Volstagg shook his massive head. "Thor charged us with standing guard should they come back this way."

Loki felt a tug on his arm. He joined Roska standing on a rush of wind over a chasm so that patrolling sentinels could walk the perimeter without incident.

"I think there are more than enough guards," Fandral pointed out. He nodded towards the troops standing at attention.

"I am not so sure," Hogun mused. He surveyed the troops. "Odin mustered a force very quickly to stand behind us. He must have a reason."

Fandral spun the rapier into his other hand. "Well, the Fang is a weapon of legendary power."

"But it is still only a dagger and not very large. And there would have been five of us against two."

Volstagg stroked his beard. "Thor did not mention much of Loki's companion."

"No, he did not," Hogun agreed, and the Warriors Three grimly contemplated the hole.

The wind beneath Loki disappeared and his stomach lurched as he fell through a rift. He staggered, one foot sliding on ice. Roska had brought them to an expansive, frozen lake. Not far off rested the gap Loki had twice used to sneak Frost Giants into Asgard.

Excitement fully restored to him, Loki headed straight for the free-standing sheet of ice that covered the gap's entrance. Odin had sent Thor, Sif, the Warriors Three, and an entire army after them. The mighty All-Father was afraid. The old man knew his time had come. Loki hoped Odin begged for mercy in the end, for then Loki could remind him that he had been given the chance to choose between his sons.

While Odin must be barricaded inside of Hlidskialf, Loki pondered if he could convince Roska to take them to the Rainbow Bridge at the last moment. There he could savor the light fading from Odin's eyes as he tossed the former king into the abyss as he had been so heartlessly thrown.

Loki spun around when he noticed that Roska had not kept pace. She was dragging her feet several lengths behind him. He went back to her.

"Why so grim?" Loki questioned, as if he did not already know.

Roska took in a deep breath and let it out. "You know why."

"Then, you will attempt the memory casting?" Loki prodded. By sending his forces, Odin assisted in his own demise. Loki nearly laughed aloud.

"I am considering our options."

"Very wise of you. Of course, I would not take too long considering. Now that they are aware we have the Fang, it will become harder to reach the All-Father. In fact, with the sizeable number of troops, not to mention Thor and the rest that he has deployed, it really would be in our best interest to act sooner while they are away rather than later."

Roska nodded faintly, so Loki pushed farther.

"And with the Rainbow Bridge restored, it will be much easier to battle whatever beings of chaos come. Our forces are gathered already." Loki kicked a broken shard of ice in his way, launching it across the surface of the lake with enthusiasm. "Also, you do owe me that favor for saving your life. Twice. Not that I am ungrateful for your leading me to the Fang, but if it will spur you to make the right choice…"

"You will not sway me," Roska stated. "My decision is my own."

"As the next king of Asgard, I feel it is my duty to speak on behalf of the Nine Realms."

Snorting, Roska threw him a look that cut through any pretenses. Loki met the look with an innocent smile, which doubled as her lips quivered on the verge of returning it. She turned aside.

"Just allow me a few moment's peace. Please?"

"Well. Since you asked so nicely." And because Loki was sure that if he had not reached another solution in months of thinking, Roska was not about to conjure up one in a few moments.

The gap consisted of a tunnel of ice, which after the last hours of picking through a labyrinth, meant Loki quickened his strides. Neither did he much care to be reminded of the last time he travelled through this tunnel. He could hear the phantom steps of the Frost Giants padding on the ground behind him as if threatening that they would never be forgotten.

Towards the end of the tunnel, the ice melted. Drops of water plinked down onto stone, then the last icy claws of Jotunheim gave way to pure grey rock.

The gap let out behind a waterfall. Loki did not bother diverting the light spray as they rounded its edge and came out onto a wide field. Thick, lush grass thrived in a carpet of dark emerald. Mountains fanned out on either side of them like welcoming arms and between them rose a city of gold shining in the light of a million stars with Hlidskialf the crown jewel at its center.

Unexpected emotion surged as Loki drank in the sight. He was home at last. Trapped in Thanos' clutches, he had not been sure if he would ever see this realm again. Loki had the urge to mirror the mountains and throw out his arms as a gentle breeze tossed about the sweet smell of the grass and beyond the unique scent of the city of Asgard, though it was too far away to be more than a sense memory.

Roska murmured, "There is somewhere I would like to go before I come to a decision. You may stay here if you wish."

Loki was tempted. It was not often within him to find satisfaction, but sitting in the grass, gazing upon his home, there lay contentment. At least for a few hours. In all probability, he would fall asleep due to being so bone-tired, and Loki thought for once that night terrors would not plague him. But a soft bed – his bed in his realm, that would make for the soundest sleep.

"Lead on," Loki directed.

With a quick movement, Roska opened a rift, and they stepped through.

Roska brought them to a long hall. All of the surfaces were gilded gold, molded at sharp angles, and lit with large braziers roaring with flame despite the late hour. On the ceiling had been painted a representation of the world tree Yggdrasill, the force which connected the Nine Realms, done in bronze paints that glittered in the firelight. From beside its three roots, three streams of water bound with a casting flowed from the ceiling to the floor in a manner reminiscent of the swirling eddies of the Vergelmir, and they must be meant to represent the three wells. The tips of the branches and roots ended above towering statues atop pedestals hewn from stone taken from the mountains. Four statues had been arrayed along each of the side walls with one demanding the end of the hall to itself. On the other end, where Roska and Loki stood, a tapestry dominated the wall. The intricate shapes were mesmerizing, and with every tiny shift of one's body, they appeared to be moving. But within them always appeared three figures that somehow looked feminine.

Though he had never visited this hall, Loki had two guesses as to where he was. The rune of Fate woven into the tapestry between the shapes was the most obvious hint. Either Roska had taken them to her home – less likely, for he could not imagine her living in such grandeur – or this was the Temple of the Norn's Fateful.

Since Roska was staring up at the tapestry with a look of deep contemplation, Loki decided to take a stroll around to examine the statues of the original Children of Norn. The Losja of Alfheim, a Light Elf with three belts of summoning bells across their chest. The Eir of Midgard, a Midgardian male newly in manhood wearing no garments, his face the picture of serenity. The Murc of Mudspelheim, an elder female Fire Giant wielding two war hammers. The Haga of Niflheim, who appeared so familiar that Loki briefly wondered if it could be the same being he had met – although that would mean Roska truly was the Draugr. The Draugr of Asgard was the statue with his own space, an Aesir with a sword who would have been in the prime of his life if his face were not thin and bony as a corpse. The Frer of Jotunheim, a young Frost Giant male with a spear comprised entire of ice in his grasp. The Tizak of Hel, a hel-beast formed by a mass of claws, teeth, and swirling smoke. The Charith of Svartalfaheim, a female Dark Elf child with magic ringing her hands and an unsettling, malicious grin. And lastly, the Eya of Vanaheim, an androgynous Vanir in flowing robes with a book tucked under one arm.

Loki knew by the end of his stroll that this was the temple. Worshippers had left out offerings of food, gold, and trinkets at the feet of the statues. The tributes did not amount to much as the Norn's Fateful were but a small following, but each statue had some wealth before it, with the most left between the feet of the Draugr.

Roska had not moved. Loki watched her to be sure she blinked before examining the tapestry. Done by a master's hand. Either someone had paid a steep amount for the tapestry or one of the master weavers in this city worshipped at the temple. Roska had spoken to him about her love of tapestries when she prattled about weaving before he directed them to a more stimulating subject. Her interest could have started here.

"This is an impressive tapestry," Loki complimented. He wished he could erase some of the dismissive comments he had made about the Children of Norn during their venture when he had been attempting to persuade her away from them. Playing on her faith was not then as useful a tactic as it was now. "I can see why someone would be drawn back here."

"Thank you. It took me many years to complete," Roska replied.

Loki glanced at her and back over the tapestry. When Roska said she enjoyed weaving, he had not pictured anything quite this good. But she did mention having a lot of idle time on her hands.

"There was another tapestry here before. It had gotten quite old, and the years had not been kind. I was going to mend it as the weaver tasked to do so was struggling, but the tapestry only had the rune of Fate upon it and it was not done very well and I thought…" Roska shrugged.

"It is fine work. Once I am king, we should speak about the tapestries in the throne room," Loki flattered, but he made note. The tapestries in the throne room were simply plain red, and he did mean to have them changed.

Roska made a sound that could have been assent or clearing her throat. She walked away to the other end of the hall. The discrepancy of size between her and the Draugr statue was rather comical, for it made her already tiny form appear smaller by comparison like a child playacting as their parent. Yet, Loki's mirth ebbed as he was reminded of looking up at statues of Odin and the others he had believed to be ancestors, the mighty kings of Asgard, and so badly wanting to be just like them.

Loki stepped beside her. Her head was tilted back to look into the formidable glare of the Draugr. She carried none of that assurance in her expression, twisting her bag of rune stones in her palm. Whatever answers Roska looked for, she had not found them here. And short of the Norns miraculously gracing her with their presence, Loki did not expect she would have the answers she sought, no matter how long she searched this hall.

"This is not truly the first Draugr, you know," Roska relayed.

Loki humored her. "No?"

"No. The first Draugr was killed in battle, but the wars raged for so long in those times that there was little chance to burn the bodies, so they laid out for days and days. The next Draugr, she faced a Choosing. The Aesir were losing hope, even the king. Their strength was failing. The Draugr was talented with illusions, not unlike yourself. She took on the appearance of his corpse, pretended that he had returned from Valhalla to save them all. It worked. The armies rallied, and Fate stayed its course."

Roska's face scrunched. Her eyes turned glassy. "Because of the Draugrs before me, because of the other Children, we won the wars against Chaos, and Fate has been the order of the Nine Realms ever since. But if I perform the memory casting, which I may not be powerful enough to complete, I will be calling every being of chaos to Asgard, and I am not certain we can stop them. And yet, if I do not, I am afraid that war will find us anyway and with an ailing king upon the throne." She shook her head. "Why would Fate leave such an important decision to a Choosing? Why will it not give me some other sign so that I know this is right? Why am I –?"

Roska looked sharply behind her, and seconds later a man entered flanked by two women. They wore loose-fitting robes of pure white with the rune of Fate stitched upon the back. They each went to a statue and murmured prayers as they pushed two-thirds of the offerings into the braziers and sorted the final third into two baskets, one for food and another for the gold and trinkets.

Loki held his response to Roska's worries in his mouth as the Norn's Fateful collected the offerings, refining the words, replacing one sentiment with a more effective one.

He and Roska parted as a priestess stopped before the Draugr statue and bowed. "Blessed are you, Draugr, for you know the true path, while we may only attempt to follow Fate's light. We are grateful that you shield us against the shadow of Chaos, and offer you but this small tribute. May the Norns watch us all."

The priestess pushed a third of the offerings into the brazier to the left of the statue and a third into the right. Loki was surprised the temple did not keep more for itself, but with the small number of followers, surely someone would notice if the priests and priestesses were growing fat on wealth.

With a final bow before the tapestry, the religious leaders left Roska and Loki alone again, though with the scent of roasting food and burning metal. Roksa had collected herself so that she no longer teetered on the verge of tears, and yet Loki thought that she looked defeated for not knowing "the true path." So he would remind her that she did know.

"You told me that a Choosing happens when Fate divides in too many directions, so a Child is selected to determine the new path, a new thread for the tapestry as it were. I would think Fate, being the all-powerful force it is, would select the Child most likely to take the path that keeps it in balance. And so Fate chose you. It gave you the knowledge, it showed you signs along the way, and now that you have everything, you need only take the final step."

There it was. A flicker of hope in Roska's eyes. Leaning towards him as would a prisoner being offered clemency, afraid of a trick that would throw them into a darker cell but desperate for freedom. She wanted him to be right.

"You don't believe that," Roska said. "You don't believe that I am the Draugr. You don't even believe in Fate."

"That is irrelevant. Fate chose you, not me." Loki moved closer. He cupped the side of Roska's face, brushing a thumb across the tense muscles in her cheek. "I told you I will rip Thanos apart and I will, as well as any other being that comes to these realms intent on their destruction. But I need you to make me king. Now. Before it is too late."

Loki kissed her gently. Her lips were hesitant against his. Roska had frozen the last time. He had thought he pushed her too far, but she had responded with a kiss of her own, hard and full of passion she pretended did not exist within her. Loki knew then that he could have her if he wanted. If he needed.

He pulled back just far enough to speak. "I need you."

Roska trembled beneath his hands. Conflict raged in battle across her features. "I should not be –"

Loki silenced her with another kiss, and felt her begin to give in. He had to take her doubt away, enough of it that she would perform the casting. He did need Roska. Oh, he would have the throne one way or another, but to have it within the day. Besides, he wanted to be the one to crush Thanos with the might of Asgard and the other realms, for which he had to be the king.

Roska's gaze was hazy when Loki allowed her a reprieve. "Children are not meant to –"

Loki captured her mouth again. He felt a brush of air around him and braced himself to be tossed across the hall, but Roska broke the kiss instead.

"You will not seduce me into making you king," Roska warned.

"I would not dream of it," Loki said. When Roska looked doubtful, he added, "Mostly."

"Then what would you call this?"

What would he call this? Loki glanced around and, struck with inspiration, gave her his most wicked grin. "Making an offering."

Roska gasped in surprise as Loki lifted her up and seated her upon the pedestal at the feet of the Draugr. He kissed her lips, her jaw, down to her neck. He meant to kiss her until she agreed.

"Loki, I know you will be a great king, but if –"

"Stop," Loki commanded. He bit her neck lightly and ran his tongue across the darkened patch of skin. "Say that again."

"What?"

"Say it again."

"I know you will be a great king, but –"

"Stop."

Well, if Roska was going to start speaking like that, perhaps he should do more than kiss her. Perhaps he should ravage her until that statement alone was all she could remember.

"Again." Loki traced his lips over her neck to the soft hollow at the base of her throat. He did have a fondness for soft skin.

"Why?" Roska asked.

Loki straightened. With her on the pedestal, he could look right into her eyes and see her genuine confusion. So he elaborated. "Because if you do not, I am going to make you beg for me before I give you what you want."

Roska stared at him in shock. But Loki read the tightening of her fingers and the catch of her breath. She had reacted in a not dissimilar manner when he had her pinned to the floor in that tiny, dirty cave. If the window of opportunity was longer for reaching Odin with most of his protectors away, Loki would have taken hours disassembling her will piece by pleasurable piece. Unfortunately, they did not have the time, but he had gotten lovers off quickly before and with Roska's one fumbling encounter with sex, she should not be difficult to satisfy.

"The invitation is still open," Loki purred. He kissed beside her ear. "Again."

A pause, a shuddering breath. Roska could refuse him. She was one of few people who had ever rejected his advances. But Roska wanted him beneath her posturing, Loki reassured himself. She wanted this.

Roska mumbled something incoherent.

"You will have to be louder than that," Loki demanded, nipping her earlobe in punishment.

Roska hesitated. In barely above a whisper, she said, "I know you will be a great king."

"Better."

Loki rewarded her with a kiss, his tongue slipping between her lips to plunder her mouth. He used magic to whisk away her breastplate so that he could trace along her sides to the dip above her waist. His fingers brushed the bare skin where her tunic ended. Roska flinched at the touch, so Loki stilled his hand, allowing her to acclimate to the feel, to trust him.

Slowly, Loki ran his hand upward. Across the smooth plane of her belly. Over the outline of her ribs, the one trait she shared with the statue above her, made prominent from meagre meals and near constant walking. To the swell of her breast. He made lazy circles with his fingertips, moving closer to the center with each pass until he closed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger in a light pinch. The shared breath between their mouths gusted as Roska inhaled sharply.

Loki went back to kissing her neck so that he could listen to the sounds she made, to learn what she enjoyed and because he liked to hear those he bedded. He had once taken a silent lover who abashedly admitted to him afterwards that his betrothed complained that he was much too loud, so he made an effort to be quiet. Such a waste. Loki had encouraged him to make any noise he wished. To his thorough satisfaction upon their second dalliance, anyone residing within that wing of Hlidskialf discovered exactly who was making his lover plead for release.

Roska was not so loud – which in this temple was for the best. It was enough that he had to remember to hold the invisibility casting while making himself visible to her, without having to hold a sound shield as well. Instead, she proved to be like a new instrument in his hands that took careful tuning before filling the air with its unique, erotic melody.

Each tweak and pull on her breasts made her breath shake, but closing his mouth around a nipple elected a gasp. Her left breast was more sensitive – at least by the time he turned his attentions to it – and the gasp, closer to a groan. Roska had a hand threaded through his hair and pulled herself closer against him. Now that she had decided to give into him, apparently Roska was no longer so shy about what she wanted. Loki obliged by swirling his tongue harshly around her nipple, and Roska moaned fully.

With a free hand, Loki undid her belt and breeches. He tried to fit in his hand beneath her smallclothes, but the breeches were too tight. He lifted her enough to push the garments around her knees, fingers raking over her ample ass, and setting her back down.

Loki pressed between her folds, already so wet with arousal. He rubbed his thumb over the sensitive nub between her legs. Roska made a delightful whimpering sound. He could have her undone in seconds.

Loki leaned back to survey his handiwork. Roska reclined against the left leg of the statue, her knot of braids cushioning her head from the hard stone. Her lips were swollen from kisses, her gaze barely focused. Her tunic bunched above her breasts which were spotted with small bruises from his teeth. Her knees were spread wide for him, exposing her glistening quim between a tangle of curls.

He had thought to finish her with his hands, but Loki found himself undeniably aroused. Roska looked so deliciously obscene. At this temple, she should be reminded of her duties above all else. But sitting at the very feet of the being she claimed to be with the Norns right over his shoulder if Roska looked, her sole focus rested on him.

Loki undid his breeches. "Say it."

Roska wetted her bottom lip, a gesture made sweeter because it was unconscious. "I know you will be a great king."

No hesitation. And Roska meant it, too. She had told him so before. Loki had debated whether it was flattery or something she had been told to say, but no. Roska believed he would be a great king. That was what she saw when she looked at him. The sentiment tugged at him, stimulating him further, causing him to crave the give of her body as he took her, making him feel desire so strong it was almost something more.

Ripping her breeches and smalls away with magic, Loki yanked her legs around him and plunged into her. Roska clutched below his shoulders and let out a cry. He thrust slowly against her tightened muscles, then faster, driven by her wet heat and her gratified gasps in his ear. His fingers worked between her legs, rubbing in tight circles until she came and then came again, the clenching sensation around his cock nearly spurring him to follow her over. He was too lost in the haze of his own need to try for a third climax.

Loki gripped Roska by the hips, pulling her against him with each thrust. Her legs wrapped tight around him, forcing him deep. Desire beckoned him towards the edge. So close. He was so close.

It was Roska in the end that was his undoing. She snared his gaze, her pupils wide enough that they had eclipsed the green, and in that fierce tone of hers made ragged by exertion, she whispered to him.

"You will be a great king."

Loki felt the blessed release of climax ripple through his core. He held Roska to him, panting. How long had it been since he last took a lover? It seemed an age. Loki basked in the feeling of bliss that followed physical release as he idly stroked patterns into the skin just above her hip where the skin was softest.

Gently, Loki maneuvered Roska backwards so that she was not perched right on the edge of the pedestal. He would have been congratulating himself on his success, had he not detected a reluctance on Roska's part when he gave her a final kiss. Her mind clearing of carnal need would force her to examine her choices. She needed to be handled with delicacy.

Roska inspected the floor and rubbed the back of her hand. "May I have the garments you took?"

Loki entertained a quip about liking her state of undress, and decided against it. "Of course." He called back her breastplate from his pocket dimension to where it belonged around her torso, but placed her breeches and smallclothes on the pedestal. "I suggest cleaning up first. Otherwise, you may be uncomfortable." Although with how foul their garments had become from travel, she was unlikely to notice much of a difference. Still, he was willing to spend this one last minute if it made Roska feel cared for.

Roska nodded. Loki took her arm so she would not lose balance when jumping down and waited while she took his advice. Still she did not meet his eyes.

"I need a moment alone. If you would wait outside?" Roska requested.

They should be headed to Hlidskialf at once. Their window of time had already been used up. Loki forced a patient smile. "As you like, but may I just say –"

"No, you may not. Anything you have to say to me is a lie."

Roska finally looked up, daring him to contradict her. Soothing protests presented themselves in an array for Loki to choose from. But he knew Roska as she knew him, and she would not believe any of them. This was why he never allowed anyone close. Because it gave them a way to see through his tricks.

Her flinty look softened, but Loki did not like her melancholy smile any better.

"I would expect nothing less. It is in your nature." Roska faced the statue. "Leave me."

Loki did as she requested. His footsteps echoed across the wide hall as he headed for the set of doors. He contemplated what he could have done differently, if his words and actions had been enough to convince her. He thought of her sad smile and if he felt any emotion besides frustration, it was most assuredly not shame.