"Back so soon?"

Stephen looked up to see the Valkyrie perched on the balcony. He palmed his sling ring out of sight and rubbed his palms against the cold.

"Finished up early."

"Thought you'd surprise the Missus?"

"Do be careful, Lady Valkyrie. He has very good hearing."

"Oh I'm sure." Valkyrie smirked. Then her smile turned conspiratorial, almost chiding. "And very good skin when in lady form too."

Just because he could, Stephen decided to forgo the stairs and simply flew up, deliberately knocking his knee into her shoulder as he landed soundlessly on the upper level corridor. "Oops."

For some reason the Valkyrie did not so much as bristle; this was the testy nature of their relationship, just like the tide, rocky at times, companionably placid when circumstances called for it to recede.

He chose not to rise to her taunt; he had heard stories by word-of-mouth and of legends alike that the Loki of lore was an able shape-shifter.

He would not fly into a tantrum just because he had not seen Loki in any form other than his Aesir and Jotunn ones. He did not need to. "Lady or not, Loki is for me."

Valkyrie lifted her bottle to her lips but did not drink from it immediately. "Is he?"

Stephen sighed and his hand fell away from the royal apartment door he shared with Loki. He really did not have time for this, the stink of battle was still clinging to his clothes and hair and he really needed a shower – "You got something to say, say it, my Lady."

Of course she did. Why else would she loiter around the Prince's royal quarters when there was no reason for her to.

"Is this simply a watering place to you?" She cocked her head in that infuriatingly challenging way of hers. "Somewhere you can come and go as you please, dropping in at your leisure when you need a pillow to rest your pretty head on, giving the Princes the customary peck on the cheek before you're off on your way again?"

"Don't hold back, Valkyrie."

"Oh, I don't need to. Technically you are not anybody here. Just someone the King's brother had an accidental run-in with, really." She tipped the mouth of her bottle in his general direction, "Now unless you were suddenly overcome with the urge to do the right thing and duly find your status elevated, Your Highness, then maybe, just maybe, I will show you the respect and recognition you clearly yearn."

"From you? I'll pass, thank you."

"Your sling ring doesn't take that much of finger space, does it?"

"Stay out of my business, Valkyrie."

"Fine. Loki's with the baby in the music room. He may or may not want to see you, but feel free to try your luck."

The music room was a misnomer for want of calling a play room by any other name really; the lavishly decorated chamber with its Baroque ceiling and waist-high wainscoting held not a single musical instrument in it, and unapologetically so.

Stephen slipped in without announcing himself and sat on one of the brocaded fauteuils tucked against the corner.

Loki was sitting cross-legged in the center of the room. Stephen could not see his face for he had his back turned toward him, but beyond his shoulder where his hair, bundled up in a tidy ponytail had trailed down past the curve of his neck, Stephen could see his son seated an arm's length away, mirroring Loki's lotus position.

Having just turned one year old, Stian's developmental milestones were astoundingly advanced compared to his human peers, as evidenced by the string of words piercing the silence, crisp and clearly enunciated.

"Daddy." Stian's cherubic face brightened. "Daddy."

"Concentrate, Stian," Loki murmured. Largely ignoring Stephen, he splayed out a hand in the air, his long fingers reaching out toward those of his son, who then promptly rested his little palm against his.

Flickers of green began to emerge from between their palms, not doing much beyond the occasional slithering up and down Loki's long fingers in lazy tendrils.

"Just like I've shown you, just like we've practiced," Loki reached out to touch the tip of his other index finger against Stian's pudgy little belly. "Imagine a baby butterfly fluttering in there, it's getting really, really hot and it needs to get out, you see…"

The privilege of watching Loki teach Stian magic was one Stephen always cherished; rarely would he stumble upon these sessions, he knew how Loki coveted these private times with their son.

"And the only way for it to get some air is to travel up into your chest, down your arm, and out the tips of your fingers." Loki peered into his little face, "We want to let the butterfly out, don't we?"

Stian watched Loki's fingers, enthralled by the green tendrils of magic that had suddenly taken the form of a butterfly, and he squealed in delight as Loki breathed life into it and it fluttered into the air.

Loki's technique seemed to work for Stian's little fingers suddenly took on a blue hue at the first awakening of his seidr. Loki's butterfly flew higher and higher as it worked its way to the skylight above them.

"Look, Daddy!" Stian pointed at the butterfly with his other hand.

"Stian – " Loki started, beginning to realise his mistake.

A peculiar, tinny, high-pitched whistling sound caught Stephen's attention; in his excitement, Stian's fragile hold on his largely-untapped seidr wavered and the telltale blue sparks lasted a split second, too quickly for Stephen could react, before a tongue-like projection of energy suddenly lashed out from between the clasped green and blue palms in a rippling blast of untethered magic.

The cost of the momentary distraction was a three-foot-long scorch mark along the eastward wall where the wainscoting met the large windows, and a deep cut that spanned the entire length of Loki's right cheekbone, so long it was that Stephen could not see where it ended as it disappeared into the hairline at Loki's temple.

Without thinking, Stephen hurled out a ball of his own energy to counter the residue, the golden tendrils of magic quickly containing the miasma of unrestrained, raw seidr and swallowing it whole with a sleight of his hand.

Stian began to cry.

Stephen marched across the room, his boots squeaking against the marble tiles as he kneeled down to pick up his son, shushing him and rubbing comforting circles on his back as he hoisted him off the cold, hard floor.

Stephen rapped his knuckles on the door and moments later, Stian's governess popped her head in. "Your Highness?" She called uncertainly, "I heard a sound…"

"Take him, Yrsa." Loki neither moved nor turned from his sitting position on the floor. "See to it that he gets a few hours of naptime before the banquet tonight."

Stephen relinquished Stian into the girl's awaiting arms, but not before kissing his son's chubby cheek, still slick with tears, "I'll see you in a minute, buddy."

The door closed behind her with a resounding click. The last of Stian's sobs dialed down in volume the further they walked down the corridor before dying out completely from earshot; in the ensuing silence, the room grew heavy and still as a tomb.

Stephen crouched down in front of his prince and studied the cut critically. He reached out to touch but his fingers were halted in mid-air when a white hand stopped them in their tracks a mere inch away from Loki's skin.

"How dare you."

Loki's face was equally white with fury, the dark trickle of blood a sharp contrast against the stark white of his cheek, much like a trail left after a fresh kill dragged through the snow.

"Loki, I know you said never to interfere –"

"And yet you did."

"Only because the danger was real, Loki!" Stephen gritted through his teeth, "I know you think Stian is ready but – "

"Do you think me incapable of protecting myself from my own son?"

Stephen threw his hands exasperatedly in the air. "I was thinking along the lines of keeping the room and all its fixtures intact but if you prefer to look at it that way – "

"If you mention the Mirror Dimension to me one more time…" Loki hissed, raising a long, tapered finger in warning. He drew his other hand across his cheek as if having only noticed his injury, looked at it in disgust and palmed the front of his tunic.

It was something Loki would never have done. Stephen had been bristling, feeling his temper rising by the second but the ugly sight of blood smearing Loki's formerly pristine clothes stirred something inside him; something was not right here.

But Stephen's train of thought died when Loki jumped to his feet and stalked past him, and the monster reared once more. "Oh, so that's it? You're just going to walk away?"

Loki whipped his head around, his ponytail finally snapping free from its tie, sending jet-black hair cascading down his shoulders, and a blast of angry seidr physically pushed Stephen backward a few steps. "Who do you think you are?"

Stephen reared back as if Loki had slapped him. Their fights had never been physical, never like this.

Something was wrong. The depth of Loki's wrath was incongruent with the level of offence Stephen had committed. Well, the level of offence he had committed today.

"Who do you think I am?" Stephen countered the dangerous question with one of his own, but unlike Loki's tone, his was worded gently and more subdued.

To his horror, Loki's eyes welled but the unintentional display of naked vulnerability lasted a fraction of a second, before Loki shouldered him out of the way and stormed his way over to the door.

"What is going on with you?" Stephen finally snapped. "Did everybody in Asgard wake up on the wrong side of the bed today or what?"

The pale hand wavered over the brass lever handle but never quite pushing it down.

"You have been away, Sorcerer." Loki stayed his hand and it finally came to rest on the pane of stained-glass on the door. "You are forgiven in thinking that I have slept any sleep to awaken from at all."

Stephen closed the distance between them with very slow, measured steps. Knowing Loki who always seemed to know what Stephen was going to do, even before Stephen himself sometimes, Loki did not move away; not even when the hesitant hands Stephen reached out came to rest on his hips.

When Loki did not pull away, Stephen welcomed the immense wave of relief that immediately washed over him.

He crushed Loki's waist and pulled him backward, away from the door. "Whatever wrong I have done, you have my apologies, my dear."

Thrown off-balance, Loki's feet rocked and he digged his heels, scrambling for purchase against the slick floor. "You do not even know what you are sorry for."

The arms around his waist held him up, and Stephen's breath was hot against the skin of his neck. "I have a feeling you will tell me if you want to, and you won't if you don't."

"You slew a dragon," Loki murmured, sounding mildly impressed. "Arthurian?"

"How can you tell?" Stephen sounded equally impressed.

"I can smell it." Loki sniffed delicately. "Magic that old reeks."

"Wanna take a shower with me?" Stephen's hands roamed the lean yet muscular contours of Loki's chest, belly, exploring southward into the delicious dip between his hipbones, "It'll be a start – " he murmured into the back of Loki's head, "Show you how sorry I am."

Like a cat, Loki spun on his heels and Stephen found himself facing his Ice Prince now despite never having released his embrace, and he searched the solemn green eyes, the dark shadows under his eyes, the already healing cut on his cheek.

Stephen lifted a hand and scraped away the dried blood, letting the back of his fingers linger momentarily against the ice of Loki's skin. "Will you tell me what is bothering you?"

Cool fingers wrapped around his wrist and pried it away. For a second, Stephen felt crushed by the sudden avalanche of rejection but alas, it was not so much rejection as Loki making space for their lips to meet, and a thrill caressed Stephen's spine as he tightened his hold around Loki's waist once again –

"You stink," Loki murmured in between kisses, stray locks of raven hair caught in between their lips.

"And you smell wonderful." Their impasse finally broken, the unanswered questions momentarily forgotten, Stephen shut him up with more kisses, deep and soft alike.

The banquet was a lavish affair.

"I thought debutante balls were a thing of the past." Stephen murmured. Despite the noise and loud chatter ringing through Asgard's Great Hall, Loki's keen sense of hearing meant he never had to raise his voice above conversational volume.

"The Curia Regis insisted on it," Loki answered with a sneer which he hid behind his goblet of water. "Why they think Thor incapable of finding his own mate is beyond me. Even before the Bifrost was destroyed, he had no trouble sweeping women off their feet, some even as far as Midgard."

"Is he still seeing that astrophysicist, what's her name, Dr Foster?"

"Don't say that name out loud." Loki's gaze settled on a table where a nobleman sat with his family, nodding when he caught the General's eyes. "It may be old news but it still is a sensitive subject."

"Oh?"

"Last I heard she is married with children."

"Loki Odinson, you big gossip." Stephen propped an elbow on the table and gazed at him. Loki looked especially striking in his Asgardian ceremonial armour, (minus the helmet thank God) his hair slicked back, the sharp contours of his face somehow made more obvious by the shadows cast by the low-hanging chandeliers.

"Hardly." He gave a princely roll of his eyes. "I watch the news sometimes you know. She's got one of those double-barreled surnames now." An elegant brow wrinkled. "Is one an automatic feminist just because one decides to keep her last name after marriage?"

"You know, I really have no thought on that." Stephen rubbed his lower lip thoughtfully. "But yes. I nearly forgot about all this. Good thing the dragon died just in time for me to attend."

"Must be an age thing." Loki glanced at him out the corner of one eye.

Stephen returned the sentiment with a smile. "Must be."

He leaned in closer to whisper in Loki's ear. "Must be an age thing for Thor too. What is he, sixteen hundred years old now? What is that in human years, nineteen? No wonder the old geezers are particularly anxious about finding him a partner."

"I heard that." Thor popped his giant head above their huddled heads. "Not all of us are as lucky in love as you, Strange." A large hand plopped on Loki's shoulder. "My brother is one in millions of millions. There is no one quite like him."

The adoring look in Thor's eyes was as warm as always but Stephen found it odd how his small smile was nowhere near his usual sunny, gregarious cheeriness.

"That sounds so wrong in so many ways."

"You don't agree, darling?" Loki murmured, his voice lilting.

Thor only laughed and sauntered to his seat at the center of the High Table, right next to Loki. With the King of Asgard now in attendance, the rest of Asgardian nobility started pouring in through the heavy golden doors, some with their wives, many with their daughters, all dressed to the nine, all hoping to catch the great King Thor's attention.

But the atmosphere at the High Table was unusually sombre, and not only was it reflected on everyone's facial expression, even the dinner spread was sparse. Save for goblets of ice water and baskets of freshly baked rolls, there was hardly anything worthy of a complete supper, let alone a grand dinner.

Food was not the only thing missing; the Valkyrie was nowhere to be seen for that matter.

The Sorcerer Supreme rose from the table. No members of high society on the floor paid him any attention for technically the Valkyrie had been right. He was neither a member of the Royal Family, nor a diplomatic delegate here on any official capacity. He was at most, a guest, and as an esteemed guest of the Crown, he was free to do as he damn well pleased.

And the whole mystery was upsetting him to the point of madness. He was going to get himself some answers, one way or another.

His fingers brushed Loki's shoulder lightly. "I'm going to check on Stian, if he's up, I'll bring him down."

Loki nodded, his eyes still gazing out into the distance. He squeezed Stephen's wrist distractedly. "If he isn't, don't wake him up. He's always tired after seidr practice."

Stephen slipped not into the Royal corridor that led to their private quarters, but into the service corridor. He walked down the winding spiral staircase down into the Great Kitchen, following the wafting smell of roasting meats, carefully feeling his way down the stone walls for the steps were treacherous –

And he heard the distinctive voice of the Valkyrie.

"Make sure the fruits for the Prince are washed thoroughly but kept unpeeled."

Stephen slipped stealthily into the shadows.

Valkyrie pointed to a bowl of nectarines, apples and pears. "Have you checked them? No blemishes, discolourations, pock marks, injection marks?"

"None, my Lady." Stephen recognised the young man, dressed in fineries of those in direct employment of the Royal Family. It was Einar, Loki's trusted, long-standing personal aide. "I have checked them myself."

Another woman dressed in Healer robes was huddled over what looked like a platter of poached salmon, deep in concentration as she chanted the words of a spell under her breath. Stephen watched unblinkingly as she delicately picked at some of the flesh with a silver spoon and touched it to the tip of her tongue.

At her final nod of approval, Einar picked the platter of fish up in one hand and the bowl of fruits in the other.

"Do try to get the Prince to eat something tonight," Valkyrie could not help grumping. "He has barely touched anything in two days."

Einar winced. "I will certainly try my best, my Lady."

The dryness in Stephen's throat should have only interfered with his ability to vocalise, but it seemed it was interfering with his thoughts as well for he suddenly found himself at a loss, his mind a blank.

What the hell is going on?

"Yrsa."

Stephen did not look up from the crib where his son lay curled in deep slumber.

"Yes, Doctor?"

The protective wards around his son's nursery had been fortified ten-fold and if he had been a lesser mortal and not Stian's father, he would have been incinerated in an instant upon forcing entry; Loki's sorcery was brutal, and that could only mean one thing.

"Did something happen while I was away?"

Stian's governess did not answer as promptly as Stephen would have liked. The stricken look on her face was telltale enough; she was caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Loki forbade you to speak of it to me?" Her eyes darted away, desperately seeking to look anywhere distant enough but still being respectful.

"You can still either nod or shake your head, yes?" Stephen knew his way around the loopholes around Loki's decrees well enough by now.

To his satisfaction, she nodded her head, albeit uncertainly.

"Has there been a threat to Prince Loki's life recently?"

She nodded unhesitatingly.

"By means of poison, I presume?"

The nod took longer to come this time, but it did and Stephen felt his blood turn to ice.

"And Stian? Did something happen to him as well?"

To his utter surprise, Yrsa's eyes suddenly welled with tears. This time she neither nodded nor shook her head. She turned her body sideways and looked to him for permission, and Stephen gestured for her to proceed, his heart pounding in growing trepidation –

And it skipped a beat.

Yrsa pulled her long hair away and part of her gown to reveal the back of her neck and part of her shoulder. Silvery tracks of what appeared to be scar tissue criss-crossed what little exposed skin she was allowing Stephen to see, and he had a sick feeling the scars extended to the rest of her back. Defensive wounds, from a spell? A sharp instrument? Whatever they were from, they looked recent.

His eyes softened. "Thank you, Yrsa. For protecting our son."

"It is my duty, Doctor. I will gladly give my life before I would let any harm come to Prince Stian."

When Stephen slipped back into his chair at the High Table, the procession of debutantes had started, and Thor was nodding his head every so often and throwing smiles left, right and center, but he could tell by just looking that the King of Asgard was miles away.

"You missed out on the first few, they were quite feisty things too." Loki's face was impassive, but now that Stephen knew what to look for, he noticed Loki doing that creepy thing with his eyes –

He knew Loki could go for hours without blinking, but the way his piercing green eyes swept across the Great Hall, periodically and systemically skimming the walls, the high ceilings, the arrow slots hidden deep in the walls – Loki was a prey, hoping to catch glimpses of his predator so he could pounce first.

Loki's plate was untouched.

"You are not eating?" Stephen asked lightly. "Is the food not to your liking?"

Loki's back stiffened. Stephen could read the sudden clenching of his jaw so many ways and he dared say his deduction would be correct any one way.

"I am not very hungry." Loki gave him a tight smile. "Besides I did not want to start without you. That would be ill-mannered on my part."

"You should not have waited on my account."

Loki held out a hand under the table, daring Stephen to take it.

Stephen wasted no time clasping it between his palms and he suffused the ice-cold fingers with warmth and magic at the same time; he closed his eyes and let his sentient magic run its diagnostics through Loki's veins.

He did not recognise the make, origin or even the constituents of it (yet) but whatever poison the perpetrator had used was potent and would have killed a human instantly. It was mostly gone from Loki's system, but the utter lack of appetite was perhaps as much a remnant, lingering side-effect of it, as it was a phobia that could have developed as a consequence.

The spark of Stephen's healing spell prickled Loki's palm, awaiting his consent.

"I am fine, Stephen."

"We will talk about this later." Stephen brushed him off, a tad more brusquely than he intended. "This is just something to hopefully restore your appetite."

Loki's eyes dropped. He nodded and allowed Stephen's magic in. It burned as it worked its way through his bloodstream, and his breath shuddered.

"I do not know if I can stomach anything here."

"I will make you something." Stephen's voice was still hard. "Or we can go to New York for a bagel or something."

"I will not run, Strange."

"Will you tell me what you are running from, Loki?" There was no stopping the bitterness from creeping into his voice. "Or is that a royal secret too?"

Loki abruptly pulled his hand away and jumped to his feet, his heavy chair scraping noisily against the solid wooden platform as he knocked it back in his haste.

"Brother?" A hand came to rest on his elbow. "Are you feeling quite alright?"

Loki had the fainting damsel act down pat for his face was as white as snow, his form trembling; Einar had stepped out of the shadows, his hands stretched out in alarm as if preparing to catch the Prince at any time should he fall.

"If you'll excuse me Your Majesty, I just – " Loki ran two fingers along his neckline, unconsciously tugging at the constricting clasp around his throat, "I am in need of some air."

"Of course," Thor assented, his eyes narrowing. Stephen did not escape his suspicious looks.

He stood up. "I will take you."

"There is no need, Stephen."

But Stephen was having none of it. He spoke directly to Thor. "I will take him."

"Of course," Thor repeated. There was terror in his eyes. "Of course."

"Don't touch me."

Passing servants bowed their heads and hurried past.

With a wave of his hand, Stephen lifted a silencing spell around them, cloaking them in a shield of invisibility, for this was a conversation that could not wait, his chest near bursting.

"You owe me answers, Loki."

"I do not owe you anything."

"Yes, you do!" Stephen grabbed his elbow and forced him to a stop.

Loki did not wrench his arm out of his grasp.

"You can start by explaining why your food is being tasted for poison," Stephen suggested kindly. "And how Einar now not only dresses you, but tastes your wine as well."

Loki heaved a sigh. He raked a hand through his hair, and upon noticing how it trembled, placed it on his hip. "I took ill after dinner one night. People jumped to conclusions that it was an attempt on my life, when it had only been a case of run-of-the-mill food poisoning. Happy?"

"No. No lies, Loki." Stephen gripped the side of Loki's face fiercely, "No lies between us."

"No lies." Loki whispered. "Truly."

"Perhaps." Stephen released his grip, "But there are still secrets."

Loki's eyes glistened. "As there should be."

"Why?" Stephen pressed his weight against Loki, pinning him against a giant marble column. "Have I not shown my worth? Do I not deserve to know all that happens to you, and to our son?"

Loki remained stubbornly mum.

"Why did I need to hear it from the Valkyrie, from Yrsa?"

Stephen's voice broke. "Do I have to wait until you are dead, only then am I to be told?"

"How should I have told you?" Loki asked quietly. "Do I tell you of all the whispers I hear behind my back of how my life should be forfeit on the basis of my heritage alone? That not only am I heir to the throne of Asgard, which apparently is an insult enough to the monarchy now that it is no longer a secret, Thor has named our son, a half-Jotun, half-human bastard, the third in line?"

"No man with even a drop of Asgardian blood in him in his right mind would stand for it." Loki lifted his chin. "Asgardians are a proud race, in case you haven't noticed."

"Who?" Stephen was reduced to monosyllables, his fury barely contained within an inch of his life.

Loki shook his head numbly. "The poison and the spells were old Asgardian dark magic, that was the only thing the Healers could say."

"I am taking you and Stian back with me to New York."

"No."

"Loki…"

"No." Loki palmed Stephen's chest firmly. "Now do you see why I did not tell you?"

"I will not run." Green eyes flashed as bright as sapphires. "I will not leave Asgard. I will not leave Thor."

"Thor is not the one in danger here!"

"If you truly think that, Strange, then you have not lived long enough," Loki said gently, not unlike Stephen's previous tone, condescending yet infuriatingly kind.

"Someone tries to kill me and Stian." Loki's fingers curled around the front of Stephen's robes. "And suddenly the Council throws a ball and tries to cajole Thor into begetting himself a queen, and perhaps a pure-blooded heir in due time. It is not just to ensure the purity of the royal bloodline."

"If I am dead, what is stopping them from murdering Thor too?"

New Asgard, present time

Stephen dreamed.

It was a dream that he had long since banished into the deep recesses of his mind.

He must be dreaming. There was no other logical explanation.

The blond head appeared for a split second breaking the surface of the water, before disappearing again underneath the waves.

But there had none been any, was there. No waves for the water was still that day. So still.

How could water so still be so cruel.

And in his dream state, he could even feel it. The cramping pain in his leg – a sympathy pain?

The head reappeared, a frantic hand reaching out for someone, anyone.

But this time, the hair on the head was no longer blond darkened to a brown by water – it was black, as black as the moonless night, as black as the void of empty space.

Loki! He screamed.

No.

Why did that not sound right?

Loki! He screamed again, his cramping leg grounding him to the ground, rendering him useless and paralysed.

No. Not Loki.

Loki was alive. He had saved him. He had pulled him out of the still, cruel, icy water.

Hadn't he?

He had been calling the wrong name.

Stephen.

He heard her now. Garbled, drowning. Dying.

Help me.

"Stephen."

He heard a voice calling him, but he could not for the life of him tell who it was, despite knowing deep in his heart of hearts, that he should. He knew that voice, he would know it anywhere.

"Stephen, wake up."

Water began to fill his lungs.

An invisible hand, as cold as ice, latched onto his forehead, and Stephen could feel the pull of energy, the rearranging of memories, the stealing of nightmares

No! Stay out, stay out, stay out

He could not stop himself. Something at the back of his muddled brain was screaming at him to hold back, he was going to hurt someone, no, not just someone

But the hand was still trying to pull him out of his dreamscape, if it pulled too hard, it was going to rip her out too

Stay OUT!

The blast of energy that jolted the hand away snapped Stephen out of his half-wakeful, half-asleep state and he gasped in horror.

"Loki!"

His eyes took a second too long to adjust to the darkness, and when Loki did not answer immediately, an icy fear chilled his spine to the core.

"Loki!" He called out again frantically this time.

"I am here."

Stephen followed the green tinge of light in one corner of the room where the backlash of mystical energy had pushed him; Loki's shield of green and gold pulsated strong and steady, enveloping him in a protective cocoon of seidr.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No. You did not." Loki lowered his shield, and with a wave of his hand, switched on every light in the room. "Are you alright?"

Stephen did not answer. His hand palmed the empty space next to him.

Loki obliged, climbing into the bed once more. A look of concern passed over his features. "You had a nightmare."

"I…did." Stephen held a shaky hand to his forehead and it came away slick with sweat.

"Who was she?"

"No one," Stephen said flatly.

Loki's fingers ghosted over his bicep, not quite touching.

"No secrets, remember?"

Stephen turned his head slowly.

"You keep more secrets than anyone I know, Loki. Can't you let me keep this one to myself?"

Loki reached out across Stephen's chest to grab the hand still palming his forehead. He balled Stephen's hand into a fist and tucked it under his chin. Stephen could feel the rumble of Loki's voice against his skin as he spoke.

"Not when you scream my name and in the same breath, you scream another."

Stephen's breath caught in his chest.

"Who is Donna?"

An unknown amount of time passed in silence, and Stephen could be forgiven to think that perhaps if he were to drift into sleep now, he would not need to answer…but alas, no sleep was going to visit him again tonight.

"My sister."

Loki had put two and two together, there was no doubt about it. It was evident in the way he said his next two words.

"I'm sorry."

Stephen's forehead wrinkled. His other arm reached over to rest on Loki's side. It was meant to be comforting, but his words came out empty and meaningless. "You didn't do anything. She died long before I met you."

"What I did brought back the memories, didn't it."

"I couldn't save her," Stephen said monotonously. "What you did or didn't do will never change that."

Loki was silent for a long time. "Perhaps."

Stephen found the hand Loki had fiercely tucked in the crook of his neck now suddenly pressed against the swell of his belly. "But saving two out of three…isn't all that bad, is it, husband?"

At the sight of the tears in Loki's eyes, Stephen could feel his eyes well up in turn. Oh Loki.

"Not bad." The breaths returned to him as the tightening around his chest loosened suddenly.

"Not bad at all."