Tied to a sallow heart
Why does he want to bring me where he goes
Oh and to find out the reasons why
It's enough to make you wanna try For one last night
Ghosts and silhouettes
They take a piece of me they want it all
Oh but to wait in an empty room
With the feeling that is closing in.
Broken upon the rocks
Let the beating waves come drag me down
Oh but to find out the reasons why
It's enough to make you wanna try
For one last night

-One Last Night, Vaults

There was an uneasy tension that began to settle in his chest, though uneasy wasn't particularly the word one would find. Something scratched at the walls of his ribcage, shredding whatever heart there was left, only to settle a top the organ that just seemed to keep bloody going. Ignoring it would be the best option, it was bliss after all, though such bliss was not so when one's satisfaction has been overrun by a power hungry beast that devoured everything in his path. Arms were folded across his chest, they tightened themselves against his breastbone in attempts to ease the pain, at least find a means to ignore it better. All that was felt among the pain was the continuous beat of his heart, still beating a bit more rapidly than normal.

It was funny, how despite the steady pumping he felt as if nothing was there. The pain in his chest could be similar to a hole having been struck within. Black and dark, pulling anything worthwhile out of his grasp and into oblivion. Yet here was the result of his actions. The woman he had once called sister and friend, huddled under a blanket, seeping blood and whatever light he had stripped her of. Loki wasn't quite sure of what to say. The daft silvertongue he was, his tongue was tied. Villainous and sadistic acts such as this was frowned upon but never well protected against. But he could still use this to his own advantage. The princess's worth was not depleted, no. Her mouth may remain shut, but not for long. It was only the beginning but he hoped to prevent himself from doing so again.

"As I said," he started, voice low. Contemplation was evident, though there was an absent of remorse, "The Loki you know is dead, I have changed." Her discomfort had spread to him, there was need to explain, at least a little.

"Well, you have certainly endeavored to a horrendous extent just to prove that." More than evident was his lack of empathy and identification, the inconceivable of his tendencies flaring like mad beasts with a penny for a mind, the remnants of his decency convoluted and twisted into an implausibly horrific dignitary that had seen fit with cruel judgment to take away from Sevlyn's grasp her virtues without the slightest hesitance. Terrifying as it was to associate him with such vile connotations, but she was in no position to refuse said references, her voices internal speaking out of turn with such vindictive intonation.

Managed she did, somehow, with the sheerness of effort, in dragging her fragile, delicate and violated form across the marble floors without collapsing. Still clinging onto the fettering tatter of strength salvaged from physicality that had declined even rapidly after what had already been a loss of energy after all that pushing and struggling, if it weren't the case she would not have submitted to concession of defeat. Sevlyn would have kept on fighting, but the bird was overpowered, overcome, beaten by superior strength and size. Her figure trembled, and her frail insides burned with pain and blood.

Sevlyn wondered if this misfortune was her punishment for being blind. It seemed very much so.

"I was wrong to say that I saw a sliver of good in you, Loki. If you wish to be called a monster, then so be it. You are the most wretched and grotesque of creatures." Writhing viscera entangled in a world of dignitarial loss, what was left of mental soundness urging her desperately to cease all attempts at aggravation. But impulse was a flicker of flame, the persisting wick on a candle that would not yield. Why? Why let him win?

Because he broke you, empty headed once-virgin.

The wolf ate you up.

And blood stains his teeth.

"I don't want to be yours, Loki. I don't want to be your plaything, and I'm not."

Loki hadn't moved, his gaze wandered down to the bloodied footprints on the floor. There was still bite to her words. Despite what he had done, she had not lost her faith, no- she did. Her faith in him failed, but the faith held in her nature prevailed. He was distraught, confliction between rejoicing in the matter that she no longer saw him the same but saddened over the means of no light. Had there been a sliver? Did such a ravenous act cause it to extinguish? Would any light singe his skin if he were overtaken by the shadows? There was no way to tell, he could not look in the mirror, for he'd still be seeing with his own eyes. Loki could not see through the eyes of others, even if they were to tell and describe, his thoughts would twist and turn. Lies, there were too many lies.

"I am glad you see it my way. I feel that you will not underestimate me next time," finally he turned his eyes up, catching Sevlyn's gaze. His tongue ran along his bottom lip, resisting the urge to shift in his discomfort. "But I prefer it if you accept fate. It is easier to do so than to die holding onto a lie."

An ill-omened shiver scaled the discs of her spine at the projection of finality in his words. Already being exploitative of her every shred of fibre to stay vertical, the dawning horror of his speech had her complexion drained of its light and grace; the fragmented fragility of her body rendering implausible hardship for her quaking legs to sustain it. Accept her fate? Black veins crept like vines upon and around the flesh of her heart. Why must such ill fate befall me? Does my fate not yield to my own control?

No freedom. None of that. You are shackled, my lady. Shackled to his besmirched soul.

Words set free to graze against a tongue of poison had her ears still and besmirched in the act of listening, warranting no verbal retaliation of any sorts. The lady was then quickly afoot to enter the bathing chambers to cleanse, eyes encumbered by tears and the earth feeling sullen beneath padding feet. The goddess slipped into the bath and an aggressive attempt ensued, one of the utmost, diabolical fervency to wash away blood, marks of red; streaks of sealed fate. Hands quivered in face of red flowing like wet paint down a frieze; Sevlyn whimpered, beginning to clutch at corse and body recklessly with sullied digits.

It burned into her. Scorched upon a marble surface.

Following the hasty bath was a bodily examination in the mirror. The glass looked fragile, even more so with her broken body in it. Wondered idly she did with a less than scrupulous mind, if it would break when touched.

Little bird needs to be fixed.

Oh, but where, where are the missing pieces?

A meagre amount of magic was used to mend the gaping holes in her frock, a now particularized garment she would not be able to wear ever again in light of the incident. If only she could burn it, and have the flames lick at her fingers.

Leaving the warmth of the bath, she stepped into barren air and breathed it with shamed lungs.

"Do you mind unsealing the doors? I merely wish to pay the healers a visitation." Her voice was empty. Hollow. "I trust that you have done everything you want to me. I ask of you nicely to let me leave."

He hadn't moved from his position since she left to cleanse herself. Thinking silently to himself as his gaze never left his feet. At times they would shuffle a bit awkwardly, holding the strange and lost feeling of remorse and guilt. He wasn't sure what to do with it other than shove it down. Such a weakness would prove that all he had done was for nothing. It was rather pathetic really. After all, she deserved it for speaking against him.

Sevlyn's words were innocent, though would Loki need to make certain that such actions were to never leave her mouth. Neither would word of his presence. Finally moving to lean off the post of the bed, he slowly stepped up to her. A quick look over her form gave him the impression that she held up well. It made him wonder what else she could endure, lest it was all a facade.

"If will if you swear your loyalty. I do believe that there is no saying as to what you are to keep locked away. Hold your tongue, let it be silver. Do you understand, little dove?"

Sevlyn forced herself to maintain neutrality and keep her feet planted on the floor, hollow eyes flicking upwards to boldly meet Loki's. She saw nothing. Not even a smattering of recognition towards his diabolical actions, certainly not cognizing any feelings that came with realization. It was either the truth, or he was putting up an impeccable facade…Did the broken little bird still dare to hope?

The goddess did not want to see how depraved and lost her former friend had become, but deep down she knew that it was necessary for her to know. To keep in mind. She kept her eyes fixated on Loki, submitting a gaze that was neither challenging nor submissive, absorbing the decadent and tainted image of venality and corruption the trickster had claimed so openly to be his true form.

"My loyalty to another can only be sworn if I mean it to be genuine. Unfortunately I cannot give you that. I will, however, promise you my silence and…." Sevlyn fumbled for the appropriate word. "…service. If need be." It wanted to make her scream. The goddess had, in other words, promised submission to the trickster, the term blaspheming her to damnation. Deep inside her own integrity and conscience struck her across the face for failing herself.

"In return for my…facility and…compliance, I wish that you grant me one singular thing." Sevlyn said with great difficulty, beginning to stride past Loki for the doors. "Do not harm my people."

Loki wasn't asking her to marry him, that wasn't the loyalty he wanted. If anything he wanted her loyalty by silence of what he had done along with his secret of concealment. Which is what she agreed to, thankfully. Only God knows what he would have done had she decided to continue to push against him. Deflowering her and taking all she had was enough to finally convince her to shut her mouth. So long as he engraved into her mind that he could not be set free of his darkness, the safer he would be from a breakdown of mentality. Extinguish her hope of his light. Then burn the ashes.

With a wave of his hand the doors unlocked and he nodded in agreement to her request. Taking Vanaheim was a completely different matter altogether. Sevlyn's part was only little. Her bondage was small compared to the grand scheme. Her realm was needed, all the realms were.

"Do understand that I do not intend to harm."

Not yet.

"But as simple and vague as it sounds, I need all the realms at command of my hand. Its rather dire, but I'm not here to kill."

Sevlyn listened to his words, knowing all too well that the truth would only extend so much. Beneath the fragile layer of conveyed facts lie a monumental number of prevarications with the debauched purpose to unleash a danger that was still yet to be perceived. The Goddess of Passion sensed the lethality of this untold scheme structured within a mind reigned by darkness. The ill whims and passions peeling off his form were very much susceptible to the goddess, adding burden to her state of unrest. She knew not what he planned to execute. Gathering all nine realms to thrive under his rule was not the sole purpose. There was something else. Sevlyn heard screams falling from trembling lips. She felt the pain of a million innocent souls. Pain that was yet to transpire. Screams that were yet to be heard.

The goddess did not respond to the lies he spun and only watched him with vacant eyes. Then she quickly exited the bedchambers without another word, intending to free herself of his abhorrent presence. Sevlyn appeared to be of adequate composure, although in actuality she was indeed putting up a façade in light of the circumstance so dire. She could only hope her weakness was not too obvious to the eyes of the trickster. Turning into a corner, Sevlyn ascertained that she was alone and finally leaned against the wall, her breathing turning ragged once again as the thought of having to live with the robbing of her chaste virtues slashed her mind apart. The healing room was not far, and the goddess willed herself to move before anyone could find her in her sorry state of scattered wits.

Sevlyn was all beguiling smiles when the healers tended to her wrist, regarding her with a dubious and concerned eye, seemingly informed that something was amiss. The goddess removed herself quickly from their presence, but not before submitting a faux reason for her broken wrist, speaking of how careless she had been on the training grounds whilst foolishly attempting to wield a mace. She was not well-versed in the art of persuasion, but glad was she that the ladies did not bother to dig for the truth, lying just beneath a thin membranous veneer.

Upon emerging from the healing room, her handmaiden somehow materialized before her and quietly reminded her of the duties she needed to proceed with in preparation for the annual feast that was only a few weeks away. The goddess went ashen as the reminder sank in. She had no idea how she was expected to present herself before a public crowd of Asgardian nobles and courtiers, people who still believed Odin to be their king. People who hadn't a single idea of the reign of lies they were living under.

…

He watched her. Not by following, but he kept her tracked. Every step and turn, he knew, using his magic with strings and threads to precision without her knowledge. As he continued on with his own doings and errands, he had known she ventured to the healers. With open ears he had attempted to hear with the enchantments placed though it proved to strain given his disguise as well. Either way, Loki could learn to be certain that her tongue was tame and lips were sealed. As promised and expected, she did as he pleaded.

The remainder of his day remained uneventful and relatively dull. Once he had the ability to retire into his chambers he let his connections to Sevlyn fall, as well as his debilitating disguise. The large room was dark and silent. Loki didn't bother to place a warming fire within its place, though he could only assume the room to be cold. Instead he collapsed onto the bed that was far too big for one. Armored limbs were lazily spread across the golden fabrics, head resting back to stare at the dark ceiling. It was now that he thought of calling upon Sevlyn, though perhaps not in his original intended purpose. There was partial relief in the fact that someone had knowledge of his position. Such great lengths were gone in reasoning sealing the woman's mouth but she would not be forever burdened with it. He had a plan of course, one that would take action soon but for now… for now he'd relish in the quiet perhaps treat himself to a bit of wine.

Liberty was finally granted in the face of well executed tasks and obligations managed to the extent of completion. Grateful she was for the fact that her hours were only mildly arduous, for her understanding was that of the rest her body required, after unspeakable events. The goddess sat in persistent silence at her vanity table, her empty gaze lost somewhere in the sea of her reflection. Her handmaiden sat quietly next to her as she carefully removed the silver beads and pins from her hair, letting the elegant spillage of ebony hair to tumble over her left shoulder.

"Does something ail you, my lady? Would you like a calming elixir? I could fetch a vial for you from the healers." Concern was abundant in her tone.

A weary smile donned, eyes like glass flickering wearily to the reflection in the mirror.

"No, I'm fine." Sevlyn's response was far from convincing. Her handmaiden stayed silent, as if hesitant with speech.

"…If it is a matter that disquiets you…does it concern the Allfather?" Fair fingers clenched onto a fistful of soft fabric as the words wrenched their way into Sevlyn's ears. "For I assure you, my lady, the rest of us…we have noticed…certain…changes as well."

Fright surged behind eyes like the wildfire of a heart. She wished to speak no longer. Standing with no grace or artifice in her stance the ushering of her maid out of the chambers was less than cordial.

"I urge you to not fall prey to fruitless rumours, my dear. You will not in any way reap benefit. Our king is still our king, and I fail to see truth behind these words." She placed a hand on the handmaiden's shoulder, gazing deep into her eyes, conveying a silent and unspoken counsel. "The feast is in a fortnight, and I do not want these rumors to circulate amongst the guests at the banquet tables, do you understand? You must bid the others to hold their tongue."

Brows tip in confusion, eyes proliferating with question. But still, the servant nodded, as she was taught to do.

"Good. You must rest. We must begin preparing the great hall tomorrow for the feast."Sevlyn decided that she would have her mind set upon her duties. The gods knew well that she needed the distraction.

The ornamental preparations in the grand chambers were undoubtedly tedious and deviously mind-numbing. Servants, workers, squires hustled and bustled around the great room in effort of keeping everything orderly and precise as they swathed the space with golden lights and elegant fiery colors, setting the entirety of the chambers alight with a nonexistent inferno. Green eyes were cast around to ensure that everything was in order. All personnel were present, save for a single individual, one she happened to be in very friendly terms with. Removing herself from their presence she stalked down the halls, fingers laced, eyes in search of her handmaiden.

As the preparations were underway Loki had gone through a few minor preparations for himself. The plan was simple. A formal announcement would be made and staged in his favor. Sevlyn was, perhaps, not the only one who knew of Loki. The fallen Prince had coaxed a few dwarves of Niffleheim to craft a more royal and elegant set of armor. 'Fit for a king,' he had said, granting them a hint as well as subtle threats that would keep their own mouths shut until his reveal. Of course such preparations could have been in vanity, but one would not blame him if he so desired to shed the armor of the old.

The 'All-Father' resided at the end of the hall. His disguise was temporarily shredded for a moment to simply breathe. Panic had almost settled at the sound of footsteps, though he was quickly reassured by the gentle strings of enchantment that explained Sevlyn was the one approaching. There was no need to return to Odin's form, after all she was alone, and there was a need to speak with her anyhow.

Taking a long breath, not out of nervousness but simply to catch his breath, he peered out from the corner of the hall and faced her. "Sevlyn," his voice was almost unusually positive when speaking her name, merging into a bit of neutrality, "There is one last thing I need for you to prepare for me last minute. About the feast that is…" Tilting his chin up slightly, he eyed her, he hadn't seen her since their last meeting and was curious on how she'd hold herself afterwards. Instead of waiting, he continued on despite her reactions.

"During the end of the feast, I will be revealing myself to the public. Therefore when the All-Father is to make his approach he will be… rather late. Stalling would be appropriate, of course, though that will be until I reveal myself. There will be no need for you to do anything other than perhaps prove my points, seeing as you were Odin's ward. Afterwards, I will take a quick leave, glass of wine in hand. Simple enough, is this understood?"

Unrest was a heavy hand upon her features when Loki stepped before her to issue his command. Her heartbeats increased rapidly as the events of the preceding day filled her mind once more, distributing multiple impulses to her arms and legs, necessitating the instinct to flinch. Sevlyn however, strived to keep her composure, and regarded the wretched king with a careful eye. She would need to say whatever it is he wanted to hear.

Sevlyn gathered her words, staying quiet for a few moments as she mentally stringed them into sentences. Once she'd assembled the energy to part her lips, Sevlyn spoke in a steady, expressionless tone, sounding almost nonchalant.

"Well," she began. "I guess it would be necessary to feign surprise then. I will make the appropriate preparations. Whatever that needs to be done."

Her fingers trembled a little, but it was not so much of fear that she was physically reacting to. Ever since the break of dawn, her body felt…different. It wasn't a flattering sensation, no. She had felt ungainly and lethargic, and her head was unfortunately acquainted with a throbbing pain that fluctuated every now and then. Her body felt…tainted and fouled, as if her soul had been subjected to an accursed vessel. No, Sevlyn did not feel at the pink of health. Not that it was much of a serious matter to address, and the goddess knew that the healers would surely begin to raise more questions should she pay them a second visit. She deemed herself fine as long as she stayed upright and conscious.

Loki sounded swift and sure with his decision to reveal himself, and Sevlyn was much too terrified to imagine the imminent consequences. The whole of Asgard was not going to take kindly to this matter. What he was planning to do with his established reign frightened Sevlyn even more. Her thoughts extended out to the citizens of Asgard and Vanaheim and the rest of the Nine Worlds. Though stripped of the ability to fight, she took a wordless oath and swore that she would still expend every modicum of effort to do all that was necessary to protect the lives of innocents with little regard to whatever inept state she was in. She had to try, and try she would.

Sevlyn looked to Loki and maintained her mundane expression.

"Is there anything else you require of me?" She asked, hoping he would dismiss her.

There was little fear he could see. Formality had taken its place and he was thankful for a painless conversation. Tension was inevitable, but he could live with it. Her question left him with a moment to think. Loki almost answered her with a foolish request for her crown, which he had already mentioned to her before. Now wasn't particularly the time to boast about such a thing. Instead, he decided to keep it subtle. "Sometime this week I will need to request a private audience with you- or perhaps two. One is to be a formal meeting within the court of my throne room, and the other within my private chambers. Both will be confidential and both will obviously be held for separate reasons. There is a need to discuss your crown. Vanaheim is to be held in the palm of my hand. Is this also understood, dove?"

The notion of being alone with Loki in an enclosed space compelled the urge to retch. Sevlyn took a few shaky breaths upon comprehending his requests- no, commands. She highly doubted that he would accept her refusal or reluctance to comply. Although the goddess had successfully externalized a convincing portrayal of serenity on her face, she could feel her insides writhing in turmoil. Sevlyn wondered earnestly if he had even the slightest shred of conscience left….apparently not. She would have to do her best to accommodate herself to any possible degree of safety whilst this, this incomprehensible beast took control of her and flayed her morals. It was a matter of survival. She was not certain if he would kill her should she continue defying him, but the one thing that was confirmatory was the fact that she did not, in any way, matter significantly to him, besides her correspondence with the Vanir crown which was probably what was extending her survival. He seemed to only want to reap physical pleasure from her, and the concept of being forced to contribute to such a heinous intent felt as if a dagger had been embedded in the ripped fabric of her decayed chastity.

Sevlyn gripped her skirts, pushing her nails deep into her exquisite velvets. She would attempt her utmost to stay calm. She must stay calm. The last time she allowed impulse to dictate her actions had warranted a consequence too dire and a loss too irrevocable. Right now Sevlyn could not even look at him in the eye….and there was another thing. He had spoken about the handing over of her crown… she pondered if he was merely being greedy about conquering or was there a bigger plan in the midst of concoction to all this? Sevlyn knew it was most possibly the latter. She would simply have to wait and see what was it he had to say once he'd gained her audience.

The king had spoken about rendezvousing with her, privately, in his chambers in a manner so offhand and nonchalant, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. She didn't even know what the worst to happen was. She hadn't the experience or involvement to even get the slightest idea. One day ago she still had been a virgin, and today she was expected to provide the service of a harlot. Harlot. It was the most befitting title for her now. Sevlyn did not speak, and only nodded. She began to slide past him and continue on with her path, only to stop in her tracks a few steps away from him. Sevlyn turned and fixated her gaze on him.

"Did…" She gulped. "… That one time not suffice? What is it exactly that you plan to do to me?" Her question was quietly and cautiously presented in a concerned tone.

There was a pause he gave. Taking her emphasis as the answer to a concern of his own. She had proved to be silent this day but he could not judge his assurance by a few hours, shock hadn't quite finished settling in. Fear was evident, as well as the confusion that was not quite hidden within her voice. It wasn't the sexual activity that he felt in need of, but in security of his invisible actions. Sevlyn was the carrier of heavy secrets disguised by vague words and ideas, Loki was in need to be certain that the lock remained tight.

"To an extent," he started. She hadn't been cooperative, making it rather difficult, but one could say there was a bit of fun in it. He hadn't had much time to dabble in such ways, mostly resulting in contradictory foreplay and so such a means of activity was foreign. Though it wasn't as if he was not open to trying new things. If one were to ask him, it wasn't actually pleasant.

"Though, if you cooperate, I'll promise to be better," he shrugged a shoulder, his tone light. Loki wasn't particularly lying, he'd most certainly prefer it to be less bloody and difficult. "Your resistance makes it much less enjoyable. Instead of making you feel sick or… infected, I can give you pleasure. But it requires cooperation." Giving her a pointed look, he took a breath and looked down the hall. "I will need to take my leave. But I do suggest thinking about heeding my words."

The goddess felt insinuations of her temper sparking and combusting into a flame that would burgeon into a firestorm. How dare him. He could he. She did not want his intimacy. She did not want him to bed her. Hearing him speak of the more comfortable means he would employ while laying with her to ensure a less painful tribulation made her stomach twist. Pleasure? Did he truly utilize the word? In spite of her anger, there was no use asserting her negation. She had given him her promise of facility for the sake of the safety of her people, and Sevlyn would have to carry out what she'd assured. Bottling up the anger was no simple task, meriting quite a bit of self-restraint on her part.

Relief washed over her when Loki informed her that he would have to depart soon, allowing her time and privacy to prepare for whatever was forthcoming in the next few days. She went quiet. Casting him a slightly poisonous glance, dampened by a smidgeon of worry, Sevlyn finally somehow gathered the capability to exercise her voice.

"….I will…meet with you in the throne room…and in your…chambers." She shut her eyes, hindering the tears that would arrive.

"You may summon me whenever you deem appropriate this week. I shall perform my utmost to….not resist."

Turning away from Loki, the goddess continued with her stride down the hall, her expression hardening as rigidity took hold of her entire body. What in the Nine did she just agree to?

The necessary preparations to the feast were made and done under the efficacy of her directives over the span of a few days, the goddess quickly coming to realize that time was apace. She kept everything as discreet and indiscernible as possible, the unknowing servants carrying out their services and work wordless and silent, even her trustworthy lady in serving had been relatively soundless the whole time. Sevlyn thought to herself that perhaps she'd fallen short of being the willing conversationalist she was before. Perhaps people were noticing change.

It was indeed, going to happen.

The entire realm would be in shambles by the time they learn of the horrendous truth.

The goddess had been of keen senses lately, her heart beating wildly every time a guard strode past. Sooner or later Loki was going to call upon her again. Her summon to the throne room would most indeed be relayed to her by one of the castle guards, though her summon to his chambers would have to be delivered by the trickster himself, for it would appear indeed suspicious and strange if one were to realize that the Allfather was inviting her into his chambers. Perhaps she could lay low for the time being, these halls were vast…if she were to steer clear of the main corridors, she could drag things on and maybe even avert the dreaded meeting, as long as Loki did not bear sight of her. Surely he must be preoccupied all the while with his kingly duties.

Sevlyn now sat before her vanity table once again, the day having drained the energy out of her body. She'd skipped dinner, despite the insistence of her handmaiden, she did not feel particularly hungry nor was she fond of the idea of seeing Loki the Allfather again.

The silence of the falling night always placated her and set her at peace. However it was a sad truth that peace was never perpetual. Sevlyn looked into her mirror, saw her broken parts that had gone askew and knew of that now. She knew that there will always be nightmares.

That dreaded knock on her door.

Any moment now.

And then the goddess suddenly decided against waiting for something she was not keen in anticipating and rose to fetch her cloak. She'd decided to pay the training grounds a visit, as it was the perfect place to be alone for a while this time of the day. Quietly she slipped through corridor after corridor, again avoiding the main vestibules, and stepped out into the dawning night. The air was cold and crisp.

She felt free for a moment, liberated.

As for Loki, there was something about an empty training ground in the dead of night that was always appealing to him. Loki could always find a quiet and private sanctuary when everyone was either asleep or simply elsewhere. Here is where he was able to drop all illusions and hide amongst the shadows. No one ever really ventured here, most tended to avoid it when the majority of their days involve such a place. They would prefer to be away whenever possible, therefore leaving them during the nights were no sessions took place. Loki always found it convenient, especially at a time such as this. Solitude was something he enjoyed and hated simultaneously.

He was mindlessly throwing his knives at one of the boards of targets on the wall of an armory, leaving the room dark on the chance if someone ended up wandering by. The reveal was soon, and most of him felt unprepared, though he knew that the cameo he held wouldn't hold up for much longer. It had only been a short month since the attack of the Dark Elves, Thor had returned to Midgard for whatever reasons that led him to such decision. Loki didn't mind really, the farther away he was the better it would be. There was even a bit of a plan he would set in motion to ensure that Thor would have no means to return to Asgard for any reasons. Of course, it would all be in due time. Though this wasn't quite what plagued his mind this night, Thor was one of the least of his concerns. Merely the hopes of winning Asgard over, the speech he had prepared continued to turn through his mind and he thought it to be perfectly crafted, though he could never be too sure. After all, Odin had kept the majority of the true facts of Loki's actions within his own house. His pride had surely been the death of him.

Time was ticking, and it was far past the hour from which he was meant to fulfill the purpose he promised to his ally. Loki couldn't quite tell if he had been fortunate, or unfortunate to lose his battle. From where he resonated now, it was surely a far better outcome. Though it certainly was a quite painful road, he only hoped that they would be understanding. (knowing them, he was most likely in a hell of a lot of trouble, and this is merely a understatement)

Either way, with stress burning through his veins and his chest weighing heavy, simple frustration came together. None of the knives were hitting the center. His focus was far too off.

The varying degrees of lesser light the distant fire torches brandished were an offence to the goddess's sight through the sheltered walkways, though unencumbered vision was not a dire requirement as she was physically familiar with every inch of the training grounds. She'd spent the entirety of her childhood playing and sparring upon the raised floors of the practice rings. And there in the old hovel yonder thrived the memories in which Frigga used to conduct her teachings of magic with the damsel back when she was a keen little thing. Sevlyn was on her way there actually to retrieve the old blades she'd hidden betwixt the spell books on the shelves. She felt and desired more than anything to hack at one of the old mannequins stuffed away in the ancient hut. Not exactly the proper way of training oneself the ways of wielding a sword though she didn't care.

Loki took a breath, running a hand through his hair and walked over to pluck the knives out of the target. A simple gesture shooed them away, tucking them into the convenient place that he quite liked to call his 'pocket in space.' He hadn't felt like giving it a more scientific name, leaving it as it was in the form of laziness. In the midst of removing the blades, he heard a gentle padding echoing across the empty court. Loki froze, save for turning his head in attempts to gather a glimpse of who it was. From his guess, it could simply be a servant, making a late leave but to his surprise, it was Lady Sevlyn. Shrouded by her cloak, her figure was unmistakable as she made her way down the path. Loki decided to abandon his worthless aiming, and perhaps use her as a better distraction. As the only soul knowing of him, he suddenly preferred company over solitude. Despite her loathing. Soundlessly, he removed himself from the armory, striding up behind the woman. Knowing that simply coming from nowhere would startle her to the sun, he allowed his steps to slowly gain a bit of sound, increasing with every step.

Upon hearing the quickened footsteps behind her, Sevlyn simply maintained mobility, not wanting to look back for she knew very well who it was. She'd noticed the broad figure hurling knives at the targets in the darkness and saw the glint of golden, decorative armor in the moonlight. For a moment the lady considered retreating quickly, but understood that turning back could possibly draw his attention from his angle. Ultimately the goddess decided to continue down her path and recruit more silence in her gait. Perhaps he wouldn't notice.

Or, perhaps not.

"Such a pretty lady as yourself shouldn't be allowed to roam out here alone," he murmured quietly from behind. A few more steps were taken to catch up with her, arms slid around her waist to cease her steps. "Someone might try to steal you away," Loki kept his tone gentle and light, a hint of a smile could be heard as his grip tightened to pull her closer.

Sevlyn wordlessly accursed herself for always making the worst of decisions when she felt his arms sliding around her slender waist, her body inevitably responding negatively to his appalling touch, the touch that sullied, tarnished and blemished her. The words rolling off his silver tongue induced a vicious shudder that rippled through her blood and had every inch of porcelain skin screaming in protest. Still her eyes were fixated on the little hovel in the distance, not looking back or sideways. Her pair of quivering hands defensively gripped at his that kept her encased in his possessive clasp, though she did nothing to pry them away, knowing well what happened the last time she fought against him. Now the lady would try to elude her current disposition the only she way she knew how.

"If you would simply leave me be for now, my liege, such private actions are not appropriate in a place like this." No hint of trepidation. She kept her voice level and flat, hoping he would overlook the small hint of subliminal defiance in her voice.

"If you truly wish to be sated, you may call upon me later." Sevlyn's urge to retch was upon her again the moment she said those words. "But please, not under the open eyes of the Gods."

Feeling her tense brought only the slightest amount of disappointment. Loki had been expecting it, of course, no reason to doubt such a thing. Her hands gripped his; he was almost able to feel her want to pry them off of her. Though in the means to sate her, arms loosened a fraction, but his grip did not relent any further. It was odd how her first thought would be in the direction of a sexual drive. She would assume he wished to take her upon every sight, but it wasn't quite like that. Loki had no plans of such things, though it did not deviate from the fact that he owned her.

Lightly, he swayed with her tilting his head up a bit to glance at the night sky, pretending to contemplate the options yet there was nothing to decide on. Chuckling, he gently pressed a peck of a kiss her cheekbone and lowered his voice to a soft whisper. "Alright- I wasn't actually talking about myself. If it will ease you I have no energy for such thing. All the work is thrust upon me anyhow." Eyes turned back to the stars, the façade of his smile gone and replaced with a quiet frown. Perhaps his words were a bit crude but nevertheless, it didn't matter.

A few long moments of silence passed. There was still quite the load the thoughts bouncing across the walls of his mind and he wasn't in the mood to think upon them any longer. Perhaps if cooperation was something to properly consider, Sevlyn could full bring his mind elsewhere. It most certainly wouldn't make anything easier, almost wanting to hit himself for thinking of such a thing. Taking a deep breath, he blinked and ducked his head, resting his forehead on Sevlyn's shoulder. He might as well give up the fight of keeping silence, exchanged words of his deed were becoming tiresome and diversion would certainly be preferred. "I don't want to be alone right now…" words fell out of his mouth. A truth that he now felt rather immature for admitting but in reality, she had once been a friend he had felt led to turn towards. Perhaps the few sentimental feelings still lingered, for old habits died hard.

Tranquility was a flourishing element in the wholesome darkness that consumed them, the lustrous stars in infinite space singing their songs of unadulterated light. The goddess could almost feel peace settling atop her form if it weren't for the hands of deviltry swathing her body in its shadows. She listened to Loki's cool whispers grazing her ears and felt his puckered lips marking upon her fair skin a poisonous little peck. Their mutually close proximity trigged her gift of perception, and she once more felt the callous touch of demons in her mind, bound to a cage of flesh and bone. That was not all, surprisingly, for Sevlyn noticed a crack in the walls that exposed the vulnerabilities of the wretched ruler. I don't want to be alone right now. The words awakened her inclination for sympathy toward the downtrodden, and for a fleeting moment, there it was. The prerequisite and desire to aid a friend in need. Sevlyn despised Loki for what he did to her, for what he forcefully took away from her, but that did not mean she loved him any less. She couldn't forgive him, but at the same time, she couldn't forget the boy she'd come to care so much about. The little prince she played and fought and grew up with. Her eyes wandered to the stars as she listened to Loki's quiet breathing on her shoulder. Maybe his claims weren't as true as they appeared to be.

Idiot.

Idiot.

Have you forgotten what he did to you? Could you salvage what is lost?

Do you truly feel for him?

WHORE.

Sevlyn jumped as the word branded itself into the depths of her mind. She panicked, heart writhing and thrashing beneath her ribcage; rigidity taking ahold of her body as the events replayed in her head, burning, searing into her recollections.

WHORE.

It scarred her. She could not forget. Not ever.

"I-I," Sevlyn began, the garden-fresh memories frightening her into oblivion.

"Please, please, I'm sorry, I simply can't. Please let go of me." She began to quake, pushing away from Loki, urging him to release her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She spoke, her words discombobulated as her breath was caught in her throat. "I meant no disrespect." Sevlyn placed a hand upon her chest, feeling the frantic thumping of her heart, attempting to regain ground.

"It's just-It's just…I still feel it, it hurts, it hurts- oh Gods…"

He had felt the panic rise within her blood, frantic pleas and pulling almost caused his arms to release. Instead of delivering her request, he brought his hands to her shoulders and carefully turned Sevlyn to face him. "Sevlyn, it's alright—" he bent himself slightly, bringing his gaze to look directly into hers. One hand gently came to brush his thumb across the bone of her cheek. Brows were furrowed, Loki's slight confusion most certainly apparent on his face.

"I am not angry with you." He could not directly tell what it was that had disturbed her so.

Shifting his grip, his other arm was wrapped around her waist, loosely resting it there. Panic had over taken her and there was no mistaking it. Her comment of pain had given hint to a potential prompt. Whether this was in tune to the Dark Elves or what he had been jesting with was all that came to mind. With a frown, he decided to take a bit of a step in simply asking. "What have I done? Why are you upset?"

There was even a gentle kiss pressed to her lips, firm and quick in its demeanor. Hoping to possibly sate the frightened Princess.

Sedative words daubed with a vestige of calm intonation had but fared well in the endeavor to do away the horrid anxiety that had the poor goddess in its seizure of traumatic and melancholic events of the past, the cold, decadent kiss her violator himself had placed upon her lips as gentle as the fringed edges of a goose feather, as deadly as the taste of sin. Her heartbeat slowed, but alas, not the tears that streamed down pallid cheeks in silent rivers. A smidgeon of relief was within her emotional admixture, and it spread throughout her broken frame when Loki spoke of his predisposition and that he was thankfully, not in any way incensed.

The goddess wondered earnestly how in the Nine was Loki so compassionate with her now, the way he held her against him and the cold pressing of his lips against hers- it had almost been affectionate…although she would be afar from surprise if it turned out to be another one of his impeccable wiles and that his display of concern was nothing but fictionalized genuineness. Perhaps he means to sway her into uninterrupted compliance. Sevlyn truly wished she was at the liberty to accept and love the trickster, she had wanted more than anything to aid him in his absent state, which was indeed, the wholesome duty of a friend. Ad infinitum.

And all she had to do to negate that very notion is remember. Every vile, repugnant and intimate thing he'd done to her in the chambers.

How could she even look at him now? How could she even sustain herself knowing that her former friend had done such an unthinkable action? Now it seems that he craved solace from her presence in the manner how one would desire their dearest.

She was not his dearest. She was his plaything.

Feeling their foreheads connect, Sevlyn averted his gaze and looked down at her own feet, the remnants of her tears dripping from heavy emerald orbs.

"…Upset? Why?" She stated quietly, sensing his wrapped arm around her midriff.

"You violated me, Loki. It's not something I can simply cast out of my thoughts. If it weren't for the sleeping drafts I've been requesting from the healers, I would have been deprived of my slumber. My nightmares would not cease. I wake up and feel nauseous at the break of dawn. I can't rest. It never ends." Her lips trembled as she spoke of her suffering a little too boldly.

"I do wish that you are finally satiated, for you've won, king of Asgard."

Actions always came with their consequence. One is to reap what they sow and Loki's actions would surely find their way to return and do much more than a slap on the hand. There was a chance to purposefully claim this as a victory. Though the damage had gone much more than skin deep, it was now rooted within her, down and within her bones. When they were young and naïve, Sevlyn had promised him a tender embrace when small affections grew, and after time had passed such things had faded, as well as many other bonds. Yet here Loki was stealing them, no longer was he the child who had once fancied a Princess, but chose to abuse a sister. All in the name of protecting his secrets.

Everything he touched, he tainted. Loki should have learned this by now.

A moment too long passed him simply lost for words. She was right after all, Loki won.

Shoulders shrugged, Loki carefully released his grip on her. If he had sincerely won, then why did it feel as if he lost? A step back was taken a loose gesture was given to indicate that she was free to leave as she desired.

Hollow apathy was the rearing crowned head atop expression's throne, dispiritedness a brutal shield concealing the good graces of the goddess, and melancholia a broken crystal shard that had but torn her smiles asunder. The sun was no more within the lady, reduced to a mild, palpitating dying star. Her silent, dormant spirit awaited with wistful heart the dawn of day when grass would once more grow over the barren fields she called her soul. Standing amid the dark reminded Sevlyn of oblivion, and how overly comforting it could sometimes be….away from the demons and away from their whispers.

The trickster finally relinquished his grip, surprisingly heeding her plea. She was grateful for it, because although the wrapping of his arms around her waist and quiet words spoken in kindness had been remotely soothing, it reminded her too much of his brutal and ruthless touch he'd bestowed upon her days ago. Reliving the involuntary loss of her virtue had induced the minor panic attack and the compulsive disclosure of her pain that followed was too a side effect. The subsequent gesture Loki made that indicated his consent of her leave warranted a meek nod from the goddess, his desolate sigh quick to reach her ears as she gathered her skirts to depart.

"It wasn't my intention," a pause, words were careful until his face twisted, disorientated. "Can you not sleep because you are alone? Frightened?" There were words that reigned upon the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite pinpoint what they were. Loki was left befuddled and unbalanced. Would you think me to steal you in your sleep? Is that what I am now? A despoiler, a ravisher? He had no right to give an apology. This was what he had asked for, and knew not the true consequences. There was nothing to process other than the truth, and lies were lethargic, he could not change his perspective. His walls had been down and was left caught off-guard, there was no time to prepare and so now he was forced to tame his tongue. Loki shooed her away again, turning away from her. He could not- would not look at her—

"I do not enjoy sleeping alone either."

The statement fell as he ducked his head, quickening his steps back within the shadows of another armory. It was useless, for he felt the need to reason when he still won. There was no sense in giving comfort when the scolded child gave resentment in return.

And I don't enjoy sleeping alone either. A tiny detail that gave away so much.

It suddenly dawned upon Sevlyn, that Loki was prone to nightmares as well. Perhaps he too was a victim of the vicious, whispering demons. Just like her. In truth, even amidst and after everything-the ceaseless emotional calamity that galvanized painful event after painful event, the battering compulsions and impulses that merited no happy endings, Sevlyn still cared for him, despite of hatred, despite of revulsion. She would convince herself against it, but no, it was the truth. And Sevlyn knew denying it would take her no further. Asking herself the whys would be redundant, as the answers would serve no satisfaction to the inquiries. Walking away from him, disconnecting from him, told her that. The goddess turned to watch Loki for the last time that night, watching as he stepped forth toward the building and slipped into the shadows.

Why, why, why.

She'd returned to her chambers to find a tray of food set on her desk, realizing how insistent her maidservant could be. Sevlyn hadn't been physically up to par of late, ever since the unfortunate event, feeling ungainly and dense, as if the bones in her body had somehow grown heavier. Settling into her seat, she dug into her meal anyway, recalling the expression on Loki's face. Had it been remorse? It certainly wasn't feigned, that part was clear as day. If it had truly been regret, then the remote possibility of forgiveness could arise. It could.

The goddess didn't need a sleeping draft to sleep that night. That could mean well for the future. Hopefully. Instead Sevlyn fell asleep to the strange, strong scent that lingered in the air, the same one that seemed to forever cling onto Frigga.

It is said that sacrifice requires blood. Whether one is to sacrifice their warriors in battle to protect their lands or if one had a belief in a sacred ritual to ease the wrath of the gods. He no longer believed in gods. Loki found it to be childish and almost humiliating when he had learned of the truth. Rather, it had been rather harsh and cruel in the means of finding such knowledge but it no longer mattered now. Forsaking the Norns almost felt as if he could take just the bit of weight from his shoulders, rebelling and acting as the prodigal son he is, or well- was. Though there was one entity he had found interest in, only through his own eyes and exploration did he bring forth his assumptions. However wrong he could be he had once heard that blood sacrifices were given for the washing of sins. Animals were burned before the ultimate sacrifice to where simple prayers could take the blood of man's hands. Loki didn't pray, even if such a being existed he would remain unworthy of such an action. Instead he could attempt forgiveness for himself as well as alleviate the humming numbness within his own veins.

One could call it a sacred ritual of his own. Loki huddled himself within the corner of his chambers with a blade drawn. An arm was bare, eyes counting the fading stripes of previous encounters. He couldn't quite remember the first time, but what he could recall was the dark and desperate need to feel. The beginnings of the Sanctuary had left him in distraught, once left to recover, well- Loki had preferred never to recount the first few days.

Now that he had brought such things upon Sevlyn, tangling her within this mess he would have to take caution. Once he could make his reveal, Loki would have the freedom to put this behind him, allow the memory to fade. Save for now, it was almost a plague, and it would be better to place his focus elsewhere.

Father forgive me for I have sinned. Take my blood as a sacrifice so that one day the amount of drops I have given will equal the amount I have taken from others.

It wasn't as if Sevlyn was dead, her blood didn't stain his hands. Though might as well have brought a sword upon her with he as the sole purpose for tainting her. Betrayer, debaucher, defiler, despoiler, ravisher, rapist. This is what you have now become. What do you have to say for yourself?

I've done worse.

This was his fault. All of it. He'd pay it in blood, just to prove to himself, that perhaps—

I am the echo of a scream, the crime that cannot be forgiven.

There was little light and little wind, only the occasional whisper or slight breath flicking at the cold edges of exposed little ears, strands of untucked hair wet against damp cheeks stained with sweat and tears that fell unnoticed. The little girl stood where she was told to be. Quietly in place with a fearful, if not confounded, expression. Slim, small fingers fumbled with subtle discomfort, gripping and pushing into voluminous fabric made coarse with creases. The ladies standing behind her were as still as statues, their eyes looking at naught else but the earth of the courtyard, yet each of their hands were tightly grasped around her forearms in a means of physical restraint. The entire enclosure was just as quiet as she, save for the sounds of marching troops and cantering horses in depart from the palace region. Fire torches lit up the compound, lining the boundaries, the warm orange glow indicative of an enduring war; a war that would only end with every drop of invasive enemy blood spilled. Only then would the feud come to a peaceful closure. Or she was told. The little girl in periwinkle wanted it to be truth, thought herself to believe it, and yet inclined was she to assume that no such outcome was possible. Maybe it was the way the grey clouds shifted. Maybe it was the way the shadows stretched across the lawn. Why, precisely, she didn't know.

Wouldn't know.

The palace gates swung shut with a resounding boom; amplified a thousand fold in her delicate auricles. The metal had groaned with such unpleasantness. The hooves of the trotting horses, although faint, could still be heard, and the silver gleam of an armor clad figure at the vanguard stirred a foul regret. Recognizable, unforgettable. Her mother, the Queen, leaving for battle. And perhaps never to return. Perhaps. Uncertainty was sometimes kind. But there was hope. And as much fragility it cradled in its bosom- the little princess was sure to regard all possibilities.

A manifestation; a poignant display. The little girl had torn herself away, running without ceremony as laced hems dragged against mire and mud. Hands as light as a snowdrop clasped around steel, the weight of a child against the weight of a towering, rusted gate; untamed and turbulent spirit opposing the might of the inanimate. A scream as raw as her tears sliced her lips asunder, too long she had been silent, and now it was too late.

"Mother! Mother, please! Comeback!"

The grasps at her shoulders, waist, were incessant and callous. Tearing her away from the gates almost tore her little body apart.

Yet apart she already was.

Irony's semblance always cracked a smile at grim humor, didn't it?

Shattered.Crushed.

shards of mirror and pieces of earthenware. Spilled milk and scattered pearls.

Figures, brethren of the night, prowled upon periphery of cognizance; the lady with her proclivity bred no intention to sleep as long as the war lived. The fires would keep her awake, and although unheard steel sung in shrill dissatisfaction on distant ground- somewhere her parents were fighting, protecting, slaughtering. Every word of prayer had been recited and repeated but they felt stagnant, empty, pointless. The window on the wall, that which stretched view across green plains and rocky terrain, bared naught but darkness, a reluctant acquaintance. The trickles of a new day were not upon them yet, and Sevlyn wondered if they ever would be.

" my lady princess, shall I sing you another lullaby? "

The maid was a sweet soul, and gifted was she with the most saccharine of voices perchance bestowed upon her by angels, if such a fantasy was real. A request was given, and a promise was made in gracious exchange of sentiment. The woman, who knew her place, her obligation, spun musings of a queen who had always been kind to her, and in return loyalty was her sacred provision, her prized endowment to the woman ruler of the realm. And she knew most well that the child of the queen was all that was truly of value to the woman of whom she had devoted her constant service; so the child, was indeed of precedence. The queen's priority was her priority. Nothing else existed for the young maiden. Sevlyn had grown fond of the servant at tremendous proportion. And right now, she was everything to her, and everything close to her mother- the nameless maid who she thought a sister.

She sang; voice a lilting, blissful curve, a perfect cup for words, music and honey. It dulled the pain of waiting and of worrying to an extent that accommodated repose. Sleep came, fluctuating, floating, drifting uncertainly in a manner that was almost hesitant. Sevlyn leaned into her soft chest, burying her face in callous linen, letting the arms of her maiden friend enclose her in a sweet embrace of comfort, ears cast to melody teeming air, eyes focused on glass revealing a world of night unceremoniously obsidian slowly beginning to soften until they finally closed.

It took her several moments to realize no bird had sung that day. And she will hear no bird sing henceforth.

The singing ceased to be. Her eyes were closed, mind juxtaposed on the edge of complete repose, but it felt to be dancing, inclining left and right as if it were teetering. Strange. The embrace loosened. Stranger. Would she dare open her eyes and break her calm? She feared she might never go back to sleep again. andthen- something dripped on her face.

That was reason enough to wake.

Sharp emeralds drew from the window to lay focus upon a new subject. There was red. There was a lot of red. A necklace of crimson the maid wore; a necklace that melted and dripped. Eyes widened, her line of sight fixated. She caught of glimpse of a steel flashing across the air, an ill-omened glitter, and a figure behind body that had been as still as statuette flashed as well.

The maid's hands rose to her neck. Brows arched and eyes blinked. She looked to be perplexed. Things had been so calm, so serene. Chaos, as much disorder the name tellingly implies, was subtle too.

Tear-filled eyes fell to the little princess. As death ate away at whatever remained, she mouthed only one word.

Run. R U N.

There wasn't time for anything. Sevlyn screamed, falling out of her lap just in time to see her fall forward to the ground, eyes staring out into space, staring at nothing. The bleeding was profuse and out of the fatal wound sputtered more blood. Men donning peculiar armor and peculiar masks reached out for her, the princess, and the target, brutish hands grasping at the small of her arms yet she yielded not, yelling and kicking and shrieking and scratching at their armored limbs until her nails cracked and snapped and became caked with her own blood. The air was livid with the smell of blood and death and repetitive screams, irate screams that soon turned to fearful sobs when capitulation was due. Her form was weak, she was but a child, a child forsaken by the heathen gods to be thrust into a doom, and into doom she descended. Fissures in her world spat fire and ashes and blood.

Fated to suffer.

Fated to cry.

And hopefully, if the universe bore a sliver of mercy, she would be fated to die.