A/N: Hello, my lovely readers. Ugh I've finally got some time free, but I doesn't look good. I have to read seven books in just two weeks, plus continue writin on my graduate paper on Henry V, which is fun, but I'm beginning to feel the lack of sleep. At least I get to upload Libras again.
Thank you and welcome to the newest followers and I hope you'll like this one. Please leave a review. Pleeeease. I'll send you a box of cookies. And your own private Loki.
Bear with my madness. Enjoy!
Loki had to admit that he had felt torn for a moment, when that Vanir's words replayed themselves to him again. Impressive arguments...impressive for her, but nonetheless irrelevant. She had no idea after all what it felt like to be betrayed by everyone around you. Her life had been a safe one, without lies and suffering. What did she know!
His strides carried him through the palace, his spells protecting him from others' view. His chambers were guarded, but he had already placed a double inside. No one would know he was missing. They would be far too much occupied with their sweet renunion. His hand traced the outlines of his daggers, carefully as always tucked away between the folds of his leather attire. Just in case.
The trickster did not know where his legs were bringing him as he felt his thoughts spinning. Marble stairs led him further and further down through all-too familiar passages. He remembered and he despised himself for remembering how he and Thor had used to run through the corridors as children, imitating great heroes and warriors. But that had been a lie too as it turned out to be. An illusion in the minds of children that turned out to be nothing more than that.
And they called him the Smith of Lies.
Her heart skipped a beat when she finally got to see the maidens' work in the mirror. They had chosen a lilac dress for her and braided her hair with fine silk ribbons. The fabric was expensive, worthy of a goddess, she guessed.
Fara thanked the young women and they left. While her mind worked her feet carried her to the large dining hall. Majestic columns with carvings of ancient runes held the high ceiling. Music echoed through the stonework and to the hallways outside. The soft tones of a calmer ballad had been chosen to accompany the feast and the notes almost sank beneath the hundreds of voices chatting and laughing as they waited for the meal to begin and to take their places at the table.
Fara allowed herself to glimpse inside, hiding behind one of the pillars, just to enjoy the sight before she entered. Her eyes took in the colours and patterns. Her memory had not done it justice, for it was brighter than she had ever let herself imagine when homesickness had grabbed her on Earth.
As she walked through the sea of people she did not miss the looks of surprise of those who still recognised her. She could only imagine what rumours had been spread after her hasty departure. Only two pairs of eyes where fixed on her with unreadable expressions. From across the room Sigyn and Frejya stood together, staring at her blankly.
Fara saw them and a pang tucked at her heart at the sight of her sister, her eyes cold before Sigyn lowered her head. The goddess meanwhile did not avert her gaze, but her eyes remained like two blades on her. The seeress bowed her head, hands trembling as she told herself to breathe.
A hand on her shoulder ripped through her haze and she turned around when a familiar voice reached her ear.
"My, if that is not Fara, I shall never trust my eyes again." Fandral exclaimed with a grin. Behind him Hogun and Volstagg where beaming with equally wide smiles while Sif's came more from the eyes, as usual.
Before Fara could answer she was already pulled into a truly breathtaking embrace by Volstagg. "We did not know you were back." There was only a slight tint of rebuke, but it caused shame to colour her face pink.
"It all happened in a hurry. I myself have not fully realised yet that I'm back."
Fandral offered her a cup of sweetened wine, his eyes sparkling with light humour. "How's the lucky husband? Are you ever going to present him to us?"
Fara almost choked on the wine. "What?"
"We thought you were in Vanaheim with your husband and children." Sif's tone lowered, cautious for anyone who might be listening.
Her gaze met Fara's, who was rendered speechless by what she had just heard. "Husband?"
"Yes, we-" The female warrior shook her head and looked at her companions. "Let's find some less packed corner, shall we?" Her hand on Fara's arm.
They found a spot and Sif spoke. "We were told you had gone back to Vanaheim in order to get married to your betrothed. Odin had it declared in front of everyone the evening before Frejya's departure."
"And that you left in such a hurry because you were eager to see your fiancée again." Fandral's grin had vanished, just like everybody else's. Instead the mood drop was almost tangible.
"Odin told you I was betrothed to someone in Vanaheim?" Fara felt as if plunged into ice cold water. "He lied. Why would he tell you such a thing?"
"Ha, see? I told you there was something foul about the whole story!" Volstagg eyed his companions triumphantly.
Fandral ignored his friend and looked at the young woman. "But why else did you leave without explanation and in the middle of the night?"
"I-I" Fara looked for words. Should she tell them about Midgard? "I'm sorry. I am stunned." She nearly stumbled over the words.
Sif watched the shadow over her face. "Is everything alright?"
He sensed their presence before he saw them. A peek behind a corner revealed them to his sight – five of Malekith's recognised their leader from descriptions for he had never seen the Kursed himself. A beast with all emotion taken from him until what was left was a living weapon.
It was not difficult for him to guess their plan. Such a small group was not meant for an open assault. He could feel where their desire led them and he shook his head at the plan. Malekith it seemed was desperate for the Aether. The idea was to damage Asgard's defensive shield.
Noiseless he followed them like a shadow, eyes fixed intently on the Kursed.
The mechanism lay inside the weapons vault several levels beneath the ground and the way there was long. But only few servants crossed their path and those who did were made sure to pose no further threat to their plans. Good thing Malekith's people knew how to render somebody...quiet without causing too much noise.
As he had foreseen the doors were heavily guarded, due to his presence. One moment later they were frozen statues before the elves threw them to the floor and they shattered into tiny pieces. No one else was close by to hear the explosion and he tilted his head in disbelief.
Still Odin underestimated the elves of Svartalfheim. As if a few petty guards could pose a challenge to the Dark Elves' magic. The elves behind took on the likeness of the now dead guardsmen, their guns disguised as Aesir weaponry. Only the Kursed waited.
The horned beast had sensed him now as well and when it turned around he stepped into the light of the torches and let his spells dissolve. They stood facing him, all five waiting for a wrong movement.
No one will believe you. Thanos spoke in his head and Loki bit down on his tongue. Of course Thanos had a part in this. Naturally he would be watching.
They wouldn't believe a word of his, but that was of no importance to him. The Trickster had after all no inclination to report to Odin. This was more to is liking. Who said I will tell anyone?
The roaring inside his skull drummed against his ears and temples. Ever the coward, little prince. Ever the coward.
The elves were still waiting and the Trickster bowed his head to them. He walked backwards, one step, two, while trying to fade out Thanos' laughter. Then he turned and walked away.
With a smirk Loki heard them break the lock and entered through the heavy doors into the weapons vault. The mechanism lay just in front of them – a miniature design of the city with a lever on its side that glistened olden in the dim light. It was old magic, ancient runes that protected Asgard's most powerful defence system.
Still, it could not withstand a shot from a Dark Elf's firearm. And no one heard; no one came for they were all at their little party. Too easy, ridiculously easy. He suspected it was Frigga's doing, having given the servants the night off in celebration for her dear son's return.
Loki walked and walked and every step took him farther away from them. He could play the ignorant if it meant he would get what he wanted in the end.
"Yes, all is well, but I'm surprised at what you have told me." She asked them about themselves, what they had done in those three years and they understood she wanted to avert attention from herself.
Fandral amused her with light banter before giving in to Volstagg's complaints and accompanying him to the display of food that awaited the royal guests. It felt good to laugh again and Fara remembered how she had missed this.
Nothing had changed and yet all was different. As if she perceived things now through a haze.
It did not slip her attention that Loki remained absent from the festivities and she felt thankful for that. She doubted she could cope with more of his stubbornness that day. No one else seemed to notice or care. She would only see Frigga's gazes around the room, searching for a phantom that was not there.
It was only when the evening had progressed into the early hours of morning that she caught a glimpse of Sigyn again.
Fara was sitting alone at that point; contend with the peace of mind it provided, when she saw the young woman draw out the chair next to her and sitting down on it. Sigyn had not changed, her angelic features still emitted a faint glow in the warm light and her long tresses of hair flowed down her back like a stream of gold. The coldness however in those familiar golden eyes, the same as her own, reminded her however that time had passed. Both women had changed.
"Hello, sister." Sigyn spoke first, her words uncomfortably short.
Fara had not expected her to welcome her with the same disdain that she had witnessed in Odin and Freyja. "Hello, Sigyn."
"You're back." Matter-of-factly.
"Yes, I suppose." She struggled for words, again that evening - no, again that day - she felt as if fighting a battle. And so she did the first thing she could think of. Fara took her hand. "Sigyn, I missed-"
The harshness with which the healer drew her hand away from hers stung. She jerked away, recoiled as if Fara's touch had burned her arm.
When Sigyn spoke again to break the silence that had laid itself over them Fara thought she could hear a touch of regret, a tiny note in her voice. "I'm glad to see you well, but know that Freyja is not happy to have you back here. Beware of her." Then she stood up in a hurried manner, nearly jumping out of the chair. "Good night, Fara."
And with that she left, her flowing skirts disappearing in the crowd.
Maybe some part of Fara had expected a rebuff, but expectation and experience were two completely different things.
She stayed longer in the hall, forced herself to banish her emotions from her face, but the moment she reached her limit came sooner than she wanted. The curious eyes that followed her out of the room picked like needles on her back, but she willed herself to not meet any of them. Nor did she bid goodnight to the royal family or the Warriors Three.
Three years. They had not seen each other for three years. Sigyn was the only family Fara had left. Had it been so foolish of her to imagine a happy reunion?
Faster and faster her steps carried her to her chambers and the safe haven of her room soon came into sight.
She managed to close the door behind herself and take a breath before sinking to the floor, pulling off her slippers and throwing them into a corner.
She had wept once in her exile, when she had first realised that she was not to see her world or friends ever again. The young Vanir was usually not one for tears, but that night she let the salty streams stain her skin and the collar of her dress.
Sigyn was everything that was left to her. Her sister, her best friend. Her rejection was the final proof she was no longer welcomed here, despite Thor and Frigga's encouraging words, despite the Warriors Three and Lady Sif's happy welcome.
In that moment she felt more alone than she had ever before in her life. Sigyn had been with her after their family had perished and even when they had been parted from one another and Fara sent to Earth she had imagined the other girl to miss her as strongly as she had.
Now she was alone. Fara would stay and provide all help she could muster to support Thor against Malekith, but then she would no longer intrude into their lives.
She hoped Nat would be willing to take her back in, maybe help her find a housing of her own and a profession. S.H.I.E.L.D or Tony Stark could perhaps show interest in her abilities.
She cursed herself for being so blind. Had she truly expected everything would be back to normal?
The tears continued to follow trails down her cheeks and wetting her lips, but no sobs shook her shoulders. She just sat, remained with her legs curled up on the cool stone floor. The moonlight shone unto her form through the balcony.
She did not know for how long she had stayed in that position until she felt magic stroke the periphery of her mind, dulled by the distance and the heavy wood of her chamber's door. Fara knew Loki was on the other side of that door, somewhere still in the empty hallway.
Her breath stopped. She waited, listened. She would not bear another comment from him right then, would not let him make fun of her because of her current state. His rooms were in another wing of the palace, there was no question he had come to take advantage of her distress.
She listened, but she heard nothing.
Were it not for the clear presence of his magic she would have doubted she was anything but alone. The knowledge of his proximity provided only dread, the fear of another argument.
She didn't want that. Not anymore.
The seeress began to wonder at his silence, but then she accepted it as a form of truce. He would leave her in peace, at least for the moment.
Loki had been on his way to his own chambers when he had seen her rush through the stone corridors. Her agitation had been almost tangible and instantly he had felt curiosity. So distracted by her burst of emotions she had been that she had not even noticed the Trickster following her on silent steps, stopping outside her room.
She did not even register him entering her mind, carefully examining her thoughts. It was then that he faltered.
Rejected by a sister. Left without a family.
He roamed his own head for something to say, revenge for the things she had thrown onto him earlier that day. It was misery that streamed from every pore of her skin, wrapped itself over her like a cloak of ice. He had learned to feed on other people's misery after everything else had been refused him. Misery was the only thing he was capable and willing to inflict just as he had been plunged into it by Odin.
But his silver tongue failed him for once. Nothing, nothing wanted to manifest into a punch, into a coherent sentence that would drive her distress, her sense of abandonment higher and higher. Nothing.
It was not mercy or sympathy that tied his words down. She was feeling the same things he had when the truth of his parentage had come out.
Alone.
Abandoned.
Unwanted.
It was not sympathy, but he remained outside her chambers, his lips pursed. Her quickened heartbeat drummed against his temples.
It was not sympathy.
Odin had shown him how sympathy could destroy, how dangerous kindness and mercy could be. Yes, he and Thanos had taught him well and Loki was a good student. Always had been. Those lessons were scorched onto his very bones and flesh, every fibre of his being.
She would have to learn he concluded. There was no one in the world you could trust but yourself. Friends, family – invisible masks one put on faces in order to not feel alone in the world. Loki could feel her need to hold onto something or someone, the desperate call of her body for comfort. And he just stood, hands cold at his sides.
She would need to learn.
Then he left, feet carrying him away with swift strides. Loki left her in her pool of silent agony, a shallow taste in his mouth.