.

TWENTY-FIVE

between two lungs

Nothing in my life had ever made me feel so irrevocably whole.

Bathed in the soft moonlight, I beheld his form as he knelt above me, the plush bed shifting with his every movement. He drew ever closer, pushing me back into the pillows, pausing only to let his gaze drift across my features. My body all but ached for his touch, and I allowed myself a smile before he dipped down to capture my lips with his.

He was slow and gentle and far more skilled in the art of pleasure than I'd ever imagined. Silence blanketed the bedchamber, save for our heavy breaths, my gasps, the occasional moan. Nervous laughter accompanied my tentative touch, but he was always there to guide me with coaxing hands.

His fingers and his tongue bestowed upon me sensations I had not believed possible. I writhed and trembled beneath him, hands fisting in the bedsheets, head thrown back. A sort of delirium overcame me as I pressed against him, basking in his entirety, like nothing in the Nine Realms mattered except this.

Abruptly, I was bereft of his touch. But not for long. Never for long. He leaned over me, settled amid my legs, palms skimming my sides to rest at my hips. My heart clenched when our eyes met, unwavering in the pale blue gleam.

Then we were moving together, as one. I clung to him, fingers buried in his hair, dragging down his back. My very being was set alight by the simple feel of him—the weight of him atop me, the tautness of his muscles, the clench of his fingers around my thigh. Every caress, every sigh, every look that passed between us culminated in our mixed cries as we shared in complete and utter ecstasy.

Later on, in the quiet stillness of the night, we lay curled together, our legs entwined, and fell into much needed slumber.

I did not wake again until morning arrived with the first light of dawn.

Cheek laid upon my pillow, I peered through the balcony windows and blinked away the sleep that threatened to deprive me of the sight. The sky started out crimson, warm and heartening, before fading into pinks and blues as the sun ascended on high. Daylight came streaming through the glass, spilling across the tangle of bedsheets and exposed skin.

I hummed, feeling pleasantly lightheaded and drowsy. A pleasurable heat spread through me, flowing from my head to my toes, making every last inch of my skin tingle in the most delightful manner. I was so thoroughly sated that I never wanted to leave my bed.

Loki shifted at my side, his heavy, cool arm lying across my naked stomach. He slept still, his pale features tranquil. At peace. Just as I felt. Smiling gently, I stroked his brow and trailed my fingers through the hair just above his ear. In that moment of ease, I came to realize that I hadn't had a nightmare, or a dream at all, for the first time in over a week.

As the sun further inundated my bedchamber with light, I lifted my head and glanced about to see our clothes strewn in all directions. We'd fumbled in the dark in our haste to undress, tossing aside pieces of our garb without care. Somehow my dress had ended up hanging off the corner of the mirror on my vanity table; I let out a breath of laughter at the sight.

Feeling worn out beyond measure, I dropped my head back on the pillow. All the muscles in my body screamed and ached—some muscles I hadn't even been aware could ache. Disentangling my limbs from Loki's, I stretched languidly, moaning softly, before melting into the sheets. In the burgeoning warmth of daylight, I began debating whether or not I should ever move again.

With a sigh, I rubbed my neck and turned to lie on my front only to see Loki awakening beside me.

After a lingering look, we smiled at one another. "Sore?" he asked.

"A little."

"Perhaps I was a touch overzealous last night," Loki chuckled, propping himself up on an elbow.

"Overzealous? On the contrary." I imitated him, bracing myself on my forearms. The silky bedding slid down to my lower back, and I shivered in the morning air. "I wouldn't have it any other way." My skin flushed when he swept my hair to one side and brushed his long fingers across the nape of my neck. "It's certainly an improvement over the cold demeanour with which you first greeted me."

"Ah, yes." A wry smirk curved the corner of his mouth as he traced a line between my shoulder blades and down my bare back. "I never told you..." He leaned forth, and his lips were following his fingers, trailing kisses along my spine. Gasping, I arched into his cool touch. "I was quite envious when you first arrived in Asgard."

"Envious? Of me?" I breathed a laugh, and he drew back to meet my gaze. "I thought that was an 'absurd notion' of mine."

"Perhaps I lied." His eyes gleamed. "And I'm surprised you remember my saying that."

"I remember much of what you say," I replied with a dry smile. "I just never understood why I riled you so."

His hand returned to its journey down my lower back before coming to a rest at the curve of my hip. I squirmed when his fingers slid against my navel, his thumb massaging the skin just above my backside. At this, he beamed roguishly. "My mother praised you often, and Thor seemed rather fond of you." He tilted his head to one side and studied me as though he were an artist carefully considering a blank canvas. "And my father actually smiled when you first met him. He hardly ever smiles."

"That doesn't mean they care about you any less."

Grasping my waist, he flipped me onto my back, and I found myself sprawled beneath him, his lean, muscular chest hovering above mine. "I know," he murmured. "But it was just so much fun tormenting you."

I huffed, smacking him in the shoulder; the rebuke did not seem to move him in the slightest. "Do I not warrant your mother's praise? Or your brother's fondness?" I asked. "Do you not believe that I am worthy of their care?"

I shuddered when his fingers glided across my hip and down to the inner part of my thigh. "At this very moment," he said, leaning forward to meet my gaze. My breath hitched at his deft strokes. "I feel inclined to agree with them."

His lips descended upon mine, and he gave me a long, leisurely kiss. Moaning, I entangled my fingers in his already mussed hair and nipped at his bottom lip—something he'd done to my poor, abused lips plenty of times the night before. A fire stirred within me when he pushed my legs further apart and positioned himself between them.

There was a distant rapping on the sitting chamber door.

"Ignore it," Loki mumbled against my lips.

Like being drenched in icy water, I recalled with such clarity where I was supposed to be at that moment. "Oh, Norns." I had to push on his chest to keep him from kissing me further. "Your mother is expecting me in the healing room."

My caller knocked once more.

Loki exhaled deeply before tugging my hands from his chest and pressing one final bruising kiss to my mouth. "So much for being punctual." He rolled to the opposite side of the bed while I shot him a playful glare.

Though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I clambered from underneath the sheets and headed for the sitting chamber. A chill ran through me, and—upon remembering I was unclothed—I paused to throw on a robe.

After the third knock, I opened the door to the corridor where an Einherjar guard informed me that Queen Frigga was in need of my assistance. I hastily requested that he assure her of my imminent arrival, and, once he made his departure, I sauntered back to my bedchamber.

Loki sat on the edge of my bed, fully dressed now. There was the unmistakeable glimmer of amusement in his eye when I went straight for the vanity to drag my dress from atop the mirror. The moment I glimpsed my reflection, laughter bubbled up from within. My hair was in complete disarray, my cheeks were flushed, and my lips were evidently well kissed. "By the Norns, the guard saw me like this," I muttered, turning towards my wardrobe.

"I'm sure he's seen worse."

I lifted a brow. "You never know, the guards might gossip."

"It's the launderers you need to be wary of." He rose from the bed. "They have far looser tongues than any of the guards. And greater opportunity to exercise them."

With a small smile, I went rifling through the wardrobe and chose a simple apricot-coloured dress. I let my robe pile at my feet and proceeded to dress myself, twisting my waist in an attempt to adjust the laces on the back. I jumped when Loki pushed my hands aside to take over the duty, pulling at each cord with surprising ease.

"We wouldn't want you to be subjected to my mother's disappointment if you're more late than you already are," he said.

Keeping my back to him, I stared straight ahead and kept hidden my lopsided grin. Normally I would've cast a simple spell to tighten the bodice, but I couldn't bring myself to stop him.

When he was done, I took his hand in mine and turned to face him. My gaze drifted across his pale features, his blue eyes, and I wondered at how much had changed between us. From the day we met, he had frustrated and vexed me so. And yet, here we stood. "Loki, I... you have my thanks." I reached up to smooth back his hair. "You've been unusually obliging this morning."

"Would you rather I not be?" He gripped me round the waist and drew me close enough to feel his breath caressing the shell of my ear. "Would you rather I keep you here and ravish you senseless for the remainder of the day?"

Even with the sudden pleasurable ache between my thighs, I leaned away to look upon him. The smirk on his lips was somehow simultaneously frustrating and beguiling.

As appealing as the idea was, I stepped out of his hold, stifling a laugh. "Oh, don't you even dare. I've been delayed enough as it is. I don't need you tempting me further." I stood on my toes and gave him a fleeting kiss. "I shall not see you until supper. I suspect I will be occupied in the healing room for most of the day."

"That's if you don't fall asleep on your feet first," Loki remarked. "I daresay you found little sleep last night."

"For that, Loki, I blame you entirely."

Without another word, I left my chambers and went hurrying through the palace halls. Having nearly broken into a run on the way, I reached the healing room in record time.

Upon entering, I found Frigga treating an Einherjar who'd been struck by a dart that had contained jorgandr venom. It hadn't sunk deep enough to kill him, but the skin surrounding the entry point had burned and scarred from the toxin. Despite being treated days ago, the pain still remained. We'd given him a nectar for an easier sleep, but now, judging from the increasingly violent way he was stirring, I knew he needed more.

"Eirlys," Frigga called without glancing up, "he must be sedated. Fetch some nectar."

I was halfway to the medicine cabinet before she finished making the request. Rushing to her side with a small bottle of precious nectar, I leaned over and let fall a drop between his lips. Almost immediately, he ceased thrashing and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

I stood back and watched as Frigga further inspected the scarred flesh. A chill ran through me at the sight of the veins around the scar; they were black and spidery, pronounced against his sickly pale skin. "How is his healing progressing?"

"Slowly, but steadily. It seems the venom introduced an infection into his blood, but it is treatable. There was not enough to take his life. He was incredibly fortunate." After straightening his blankets, she drew away from his bedside and gestured for me to follow her across the healing room. "Are you well, Eirlys? What has caused your delay?"

I hesitated for the briefest of moments, hoping that the flush sweeping up my neck was not visible. "I have simply been exhausted these past few days."

She regarded me while we walked, and I saw the curious dip of her brow. A pang of fear surged through me at the thought that she'd somehow discerned what had transpired between Loki and me. But she merely nodded and made no further mention of my tardiness. "Do not fret," she said. "You will be given much rest in the days to come."

We paused to tend to an Einherjar who had suffered a laceration across the ribs; a fel poison continued to slow the healing process. "I thought you would like to know," Frigga said to me in the midst of examining the wound, "the dreamfoil appears to be taking to its new place in the garden. It will live, but we have yet to see if it will flourish."

"Our efforts were not wasted then?"

"Not at all." Diverting her attention from our patient, Frigga raised her head to give me a careful look. "With regards to what occurred on Svartalfheim, Loki told me everything. You took a great risk retrieving the dreamfoil. I don't want you taking those kinds of risks again."

I nodded and lowered my eyes. "Of course, I admit it was rather reckless of me."

With the shake of her head, she reached out to grasp my hand. "Reckless or not, your efforts yielded fruit. And you came home." Her gentle smile prompted one from me. "Eirlys, I want you to know that I am very proud of you."

My heart positively soared. "Thank you, my lady."

And with that, we returned to our work, curing the remaining sick and wounded. As Loki had jested, I did indeed feel ready to collapse halfway through the day. But I persevered, aiding Queen Frigga with every Asgardian that needed tending. While physically taxing, treating the injured proved far less harrowing than it had the day prior. It allowed me moments throughout the day to think about Loki and the night we'd spent together.

During one of those rare lulls, I waited for most of the healers to leave the healing room before returning to the medicine cabinet. Eyes flitting to the door and back, I sneaked a contraceptive potion from the bottom shelf. It was one vial of dozens, and its absence wouldn't be noticed. Though colloquially known as fadeleaf tea, the concoction did have magical properties that ensured its effectiveness. An easy brew, I thought. Frequently made and frequently used.

I determined that making my own fadeleaf tea in private would prove safer than stealing a vial from the healing room every time I needed it. And that would be often… or so I anticipated. The ingredients were commonly found in the wild save for the fadeleaf itself—I would likely have to grow it on my own. But that was an obstacle for another day.

When evening arrived, the healers began to depart in earnest for a well-deserved meal and rest. I was among the last to leave, exchanging farewells with the queen before joining my friends for supper.

We met in our private dining room for the first time in a long while. Our meal was modest in light of recent events. I could tell Volstagg was disappointed by the small portions, especially after having gone so long without the delectable meals we were accustomed to. Furthermore, he must have worked up quite an appetite, for he'd toiled in assisting with the reparation of the entrance hall all afternoon. Even then, he said nothing of it.

"Can you believe they actually blasted one of the columns free?" Volstagg said, nibbling on a selection of dried meats. "Had to haul the thing away, half of it at a time."

"It is rather perplexing. I am completely at a loss as to how those Dark Elves obtained their weapons," Sif commented from beside me. She looked to Thor and Loki who sat across the table from us. "Have any of them spoken yet?"

Loki shook his head. "Not a word."

"We will pry the answers from them one way or another," Thor ground out. His ire was impossible to ignore. Even after so many days, his inclination to discover and punish those responsible for the siege did not wane. "It's only a matter of time."

"Oh, I don't know. The Dark Elves are a steadfast sort," Fandral remarked. "The members of Nalak's clan are perhaps not the most... clever. But they are no doubt determined."

The observation sent Thor into silent contemplation—frustrated, but silent.

"How fares the wounded?" Hogun asked me.

"Healing well." Rubbing the back of my neck, I placed my fork to the side. "It's been... odd. The healers aren't accustomed to such devastation. Never have I seen them so frantic before. The first day was certainly a harrowing sight. Some of the apprentice healers could not endure it."

My eyes met Loki's then. He offered me the hint of a smile; I couldn't be sure if it was out of reassurance or amusement at the fact that I was not so bothered by the bloodshed as the other apprentices. Either way, I returned the gesture, my stomach fluttering pleasantly. I hadn't been able to speak with him since we'd sat down for supper. In fact, I hadn't spoken to him since I left my bedchamber. When I thought back to the events of the previous night and the early morning, I felt my skin grow warm.

"Eirlys? Are you all right?"

I blinked at Sif, her prior words failing to register in my mind. "My apologies." A laugh escaped my lips, and I could've sworn I saw Loki's smirk in the corner of my eye. "Of what were you speaking?"

She paused to glance at Loki, her evident heed sharp. "I was merely enquiring after the dreamfoil," she said. "Since you nearly met your end retrieving it, I was left wondering how it fared."

"It yet lives," I replied. "We shall see if it will thrive. I may have to scour every library in the Nine Realms to determine how to cultivate it."

Volstagg suddenly let out a roaring yawn, interrupting all conversation in the room. "Well, I beg your pardon! I suppose it is time for me to collapse in my bed and hibernate for several days."

"This is astonishing," Fandral exclaimed. "You never sleep this early unless you've consumed several casks of ale. You're always attempting to procure more food well into the night."

Though Volstagg bristled at this, he seemed to have no inclination to dispute him. He didn't even have the motivation to rise from his seat. "I find myself so bereft of energy that I cannot move my feet, let alone seek further sustenance."

Even with Volstagg's abject yearning for a proper sleep in a proper bed, Loki was the first to stand. "There are matters of a magical persuasion that require my attention," he told Thor. "Father has set me on the task of discovering how the Dark Elves were able to enter our realm." Then he turned towards me. "I had hoped you would assist me. Unless, of course, you find yourself too weary."

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to respond with a rejoinder. "Certainly not." Upon rising, I found myself unsteady on my feet and had to balance my hands on the table until my legs stopped quivering. "I would be more than happy to assist." Blinking away the spots from my vision, I voiced my partings to our friends before circling the table.

As I stood at Loki's side, the quizzical look Sif shot my way did not go unnoticed. I did not doubt she had an inkling of the marked change in my relationship with Loki; her powers of observation and intuition were keener than most. Nonetheless, she never voiced an allusion to it. I simply graced her with a smile and proceeded to follow Loki from the chamber.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone fall asleep on their feet," Loki observed as we paced the corridors. "You look to be on the verge of doing just that. I can imagine it would be highly amusing."

For that, I shot him a withering look.

We proceeded through the palace, crossing the entrance hall where he led me to the astronomy spire, of all places. Although I willfully accompanied him, I grumbled complaints the entire way—all of which went unheeded. It was torture enough walking up the spire's stairs on an ordinary day, but this day had been merciless. My muscles burned, my eyes were watery, and I nearly gave up halfway to the top.

I had to wonder if he was tormenting me on purpose, since he seemed to find it so humorous. The thought vanished when I stumbled on a step, and he captured my hand to keep me from falling. He didn't let go as we continued upwards.

The chamber at the top of the spire was as neat as ever. In the past months, I had often visited to peruse the books in Loki's possession, sometimes curling up on the couch to read them. At times, Loki would be there studying some text or another, and we'd sit silently together to bask in the written word. Those days of quiet seemed an eternity ago. For nearly two weeks, my life had been teeming with adventure and battle and death. I was desperate for a nice, peaceful moment. Preferably with Loki at my side.

In the glow of numerous torches and countless candles, I meandered across the room and pulled back the veil that hindered our view of the stars. Their comforting constancy made the uncharted aspects of my life a little easier to navigate. "It's difficult to believe so much has happened in the span of a fortnight," I said, leaning against the doorframe that led to the balcony.

"Such is the life of an Asgardian." Loki took his seat at the round table. A number of journals were laid open on its surface in an orderly row, each full of his sharp and tidy script. Reclining in his chair, he peered over at me. "Let's see... you've mocked fellow courtiers, embarked on a treacherous journey, taken a life, nearly died, and thrown yourself into one foolishly hazardous circumstance or another. I'd say you very much resemble a fair number of the Asgardians with which I am acquainted."

In spite of my lingering remorse, I could not help but laugh. "Yes, I seem to be exercising a certain level of recklessness of late." Queen Frigga had remarked upon the very same hours before. "Fortune has been on my side."

"Do not assume fortune will always be on your side."

With a huff, I rounded the table to take the seat next to his. "I know, Loki. I am not a fool." The skeptical look he accorded me could not go ignored. "Well, not a complete fool..."

"There was a reason why I told you to stay in the sleeping chamber." He held my gaze with his, steady and reproachful. "I did not think you incapable. I simply did not wish to see you hurt."

I reached out and grasped his hand, something that seemed to surprise him. "I left the chamber and blocked that blast because I didn't want to see you hurt." He looked just about ready to interject, but I forestalled him, "If my lending aid when I am capable makes me a fool, then so be it."

His brow lifted. "You're starting to sound like Sif."

"Do you mean to claim that as a flaw?"

"Perhaps not," he replied. "So long as it doesn't get you killed."

Letting go of his hand, I lowered my eyes to the table surface. "I will allow you one thing though." I cleared my throat while gathering my words. "I probably shouldn't have gone with you to pursue Nalak in the north wing. My magic was weak, regardless my efforts to convince you otherwise. It was... most foolhardy of me."

"Now you know to heed my concerns."

I could not withhold an indelicate snort. "Because you're always right?"

"Yes." By this point, he appeared to be biting back a smirk. "Because I'm always right."

After we apparently settled on such a conclusion, he rose from his seat and said, "Now, I would rather like to continue my pursuit of answers. Do you think your mental faculties are able enough to lend assistance?"

"Is that not why I came all this way?"

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards, and he proceeded to sift through the shelf of books dedicated to the study of higher forms of magic.

As a quietude engulfed the room, I let him be and inspected the journals sitting open on the table. One of them detailed the potential dangers of travelling by the hidden passages between worlds. Irrespective of whether or not the world in which one would emerge could be discerned, there was no knowing what lay on the other side.

I glanced up when Loki returned and dropped a pair of tomes on the table before easing himself into the chair that had been his earlier.

I eyed both weighty books curiously. While they looked familiar, I had never read either of them; they were much too advanced for my studies, but I aspired to learn from them some day. "In what way could I possibly help?" I asked, leaning into his shoulder to survey the first text he opened; the bound spine crackled under his touch. It was written in ancient runes, the language of the sorcerers. "This form of magic lies beyond my skill and understanding."

"I know." Reaching across me, he pulled one of his journals closer. "I merely needed another keen mind on hand."

The compliment was unexpected, but not unwelcome. "What is it that troubles you?"

With one hand, he flipped through the pages of his journal while he traced his longer fingers down the tome's passages with the other. "The secret paths the Dark Elves arrived through... I cannot apprehend how they could've perceived them, or how they were able to travel by them at all." He stopped on one page of his journal describing all that was known of the magic behind these passageways—there was very little, to say the least. "Someone... some being with tremendous power must have sent them. The Dark Elves may have magic, but none who remain after the war millennia ago have this kind of might."

"Then it seems the best explanation we have is that someone acted as their benefactor," I said. "The Dark Elves possessed weapons beyond them. Not to mention the shackles they used to bind us. You saw the runes etched on the edges. I have never seen anything like it before."

Nodding, Loki ran a hand over his eyes. "They were modelled after something ancient and powerful, though their design was clearly flawed. The Dark Elves overestimated their reliability, which aided in our escape—that is, until you were struck by an arrow. They relied too much on that which had been gifted to them without considering their limitations."

The memory of that day made my blood run cold. "Do you think they were planning the siege before we made the voyage to Svartalfheim?"

"A coincidence such as that? I think not." The notion seemed to unsettle him, judging by the distant look in his eye. "They could have been warned of our coming. Hildegund's illness was very public. If someone did alert them... it could be anyone."

I pulled back slightly, frowning down at the table. "Unless... unless someone purposely infected Hildegund." His brow furrowed, and I did my best to clarify, "Some Vanir can still carry the virus, even if we don't show symptoms. With the advent of Thor's name day, we had a number of Vanir visiting from all across the Nine Realms. It's conceivable one among them had less than honourable intentions."

"That is a fair amount of assuming," Loki remarked. "Such a scheme would require a rather shrewd mind—something no one in Nalak's clan possesses, obviously."

"But the one who sent them could. If this individual has the power to toss several scores of Dark Elves into Asgard, they may well have a mind for this."

"Yes, that's entirely possible." His frown deepened. "Then the question is, what were they really looking for?"

"You mean, other than the Casket of Ancient Winters?"

He shook his head. "I don't think they were here for the Casket. At least, that wasn't their priority."

Images of the vault flitted through my mind: the disarray, objects overturned—someone had been looking for something, and it certainly was not the Casket which stood in plain sight at all times. "There was something of greater value in the vault," I surmised.

"Long ago, perhaps, but not anymore," he said. "Whatever they sought was not there. Nothing else was taken from the vault aside from the Casket."

"And what could that be?"

"I know not." Heaving a sigh, he leaned his forearms on the table. "It could be any number of relics that have come and gone."

There was something about all of this that didn't quite add up. The siege was not their first transgression, nor was it even their first measure. "Aside from the attack on Asgard, it still seems peculiar that the Dark Elves would capture us in Svartalfheim. What purpose did holding us captive serve?" I folded my hands together and pressed my knuckles to my lips. "Not to mention their failure proved their incompetence. Whoever sent them here had to have known that."

"Perhaps the Elves were expendable to the true culprit by then," Loki suggested. "Perhaps they knew that Nalak would fail in his quest."

"Then why send them at all?"

"To see how we would respond. To confirm whether or not what they were truly seeking was in the vault without having to put themselves at risk."

I tilted my head slightly to view him. "That seems a rather calculating notion."

He let loose a wry laugh. "Oh, I don't doubt the perpetrator is of a calculating nature. He did send well over seventy Dark Elves to Asgard, presumably with the expectation that most of them would die. It was a matter of learning how many of us they could kill."

"We did lose many." My shoulders bowed under the burden of the week's events. "We weren't prepared for such a force."

"Sometimes we forget how vulnerable we really are."

I shifted in my seat, discomfited by the thought. There had been so much death, and for reasons we did not fully understand. "No matter the motive, there is a formidable force out there. One stronger than we could anticipate—perhaps stronger than we can contend with."

Biting my bottom lip, I slid my chair back just enough to face him. "You should go to the All-Father, discuss this with him," I said. "Your mother told me that he's been in conference with the sorcerer's council for the majority of the day. They may well help solve this mystery."

His jaw tensed. "Yes, of course. I am sure Thor is among them now."

Edging closer to him, I reached out to cradle his face between my palms. He looked at me then, brow dropping. "You remain troubled, Loki," I said gently. "What is it?"

His hand came to rest atop mine. "It is of no consequence. I will heed your suggestion and see my father if I can."

There was a lingering strain in his expression that made me hesitate. He seemed agitated by the recommendation that he go to his father for advice, and I had to wonder if it were any different than the thought of going to my own father in search of guidance. Neither of us had particularly affable relationships with our fathers, after all.

In recognizing that, I knew he would not speak of it any further than he already had. So, I simply donned a smile and let my hands fall into my lap. "Then I believe it is time for me to retire. I have suffered from a severe lack of sleep."

As expected, that smirk of his made its triumphant return. "I must say I'm quite surprised you haven't made mention of it yet."

"Of what?"

He extended a hand and traced his thumb along my bottom lip. "Last night... and this morning."

My cheeks flushed—something I was certain he noticed, if that familiar glint in his eye was any indication. "Well, I will say one thing about it." I very nearly shivered, my body tingling as I recalled our time in the bedchamber. "I would enjoy very much the same for many nights to come. If that's all right with you, of course."

"More than all right, I assure you."

"Then should I expect you in my bedchamber tonight?"

My heart all but skipped a beat when he trailed his free hand along the inside my knee. "If it please you."

"I daresay it would." I swept forward and kissed him fully, my fingers curling around the nape of his neck. His lips moved against mine in a slow, sensual manner, and I savoured every moment until we were forced to part for lack of air. Upon meeting his gaze, I could not repress a grin. "Do not keep me waiting."

Kissing him once more, I rose from my seat and made for the door. Only when I crossed the threshold did I glance back to catch a glimpse of the faint smile playing at his lips while he gathered up his journals. A great warmth blossomed within me as I sidled through the door and descended from the spire.

The instant I returned to my bedchamber, my exhaustion hit me like a charging bilgesnipe, rivalling that which I felt during our time in Svartalfheim. Not even able to undress, I crawled beneath the bedsheets with the thought of awaiting Loki. But the weight of my eyelids could not be resisted, and I quickly drifted to sleep.

Sometime in the night, I stirred, half awake, at the presence of another. He ran his fingers through my hair, tucking the strands behind my ear. I vaguely registered Loki's form, backlit by the moons. "Glad to see you waited for me," he said softly. I could hear the undercurrent of humour in his voice, but I was much too drowsy to conceive a response.

Shucking his boots, he climbed into my bed and pulled me close. With a groan, I clenched my hands in his shirt, nestling into his chest, while he let his arm drape over my waist.

Just as the night before, we found sleep curled against one another.

Author's Note: Some of you may have noticed a bit of a delay this week, and for that I apologize. With the holidays fast approaching, I fear there may be more delays (and possibly missed weeks) in the future. But I want to assure all of you that I will not disappear or ever quit this story no matter how long the delay.

A special thank you to my tremendous beta, Hr'awkryn, as well as everyone who followed, favourited or reviewed. Your support is ever appreciated.

Okay, so I've got a lot of guest reviews that need replying to:

To guest reviewer Elle: Well, thank you for reviewing! It's funny that you bring up "A Song of Ice and Fire," it's actually what I drew the most inspiration from (prose-wise, not plot-wise). I actually read the series in tandem with writing my first draft, and that's where I picked up a lot of the old-timey diction.

To guest reviewer Rachel: Yes, I've got nobody yelling, tearing their hair out or flipping chairs anymore, so that's good. And, well, I admit that I did consider writing smut at some point, but I ultimately have no intentions of doing so. Especially not on this site. I'm too afraid of getting reported to take that risk since the distinction between M and MA is difficult to discern.

To guest reviewer Sofia121: I try to update every week, usually on Friday or Saturday, although any kind of rough patch or other extenuating circumstance may interrupt that (especially now with the holidays looming on the horizon).

To guest reviewer Amanda: I must admit, the fact that it's unusual for him to be unguarded was part of my intention. He's never had someone like Eirlys in his life before; the fact that she cares so much for him is, technically, unusual. After the ordeal they went through—and her multiple near death experiences—there's a certain level of trust and vulnerability between them, enough for him to be a little less restrained with her. Furthermore, I have felt that he sometimes lets a bit of the truth slip through during emotionally charged moments. Anyways, you're right, he should be more guarded. But the reasons why I chose to portray him otherwise at this point are potentially spoilery for this fic, so I'll hold off remarking upon that for now.

To guest reviewer flyte: Thank you :) It's always nice hearing from you. Yes, I can confirm there will be a myriad of life and death situations ahead, though I think they'll be taking a bit of a break from that for a while.

The title of this chapter is a direct reference to the song Between Two Lungs by Florence + the Machine.

Please leave a review! I delight in your words.