A/N: Hello guys! Here's the update for the month. I know I'm falling back into old habits again with the long waits between chapters and all, but finals here are drawing close and I have not got much time for anything besides studying and sleeping. I'm working on the next one, but Im afraid it's still going to take a while. For the time being, I hope you'll like chap 22 and keep those reviews coming ;) for the sake of Halloween...or Bonfire Night... or October...or just to make a sleep-deprived fangirl smile. Enjoy!

And of course: a huge welcome and thank you to all new readers/favourites/alerts/reviews!

The sun had disappeared behind the mountain chain and the purple sky was rapidly darkening over the realm of gods.

Gold stared into Jade.

"You've talked to Odin?"

Loki sighed as he loosened her embrace and swung his legs out of the bed. His naked skin gleamed silver in the starlight, still damp with sweat. With every step he took towards the open balcony his heart pumped louder in his ears.

Fara watched him at first, her breath faltering for a second as her barely covered body ached for his proximity. For seconds her eyes lingered on his back as he faced the wide vista, his face thoughtfully hidden from her. Then she decided to join him.

For two weeks now Loki had tried to speak to his father on their behalf and just hours before he had finally been given a chance. When he had come to her afterwards her questions had been evaded by him all but dragging her to his rooms with fiery kisses – under invisibility spells, naturally – and shutting up her brain with his body, skin on yielding skin.

But something was wrong.

"The Allfather has plans of his own for each and every one of us and absolutely no remorse." Like an actor delivering his lines, Loki formulated the sentence carefully into the darkness, still not turning around as she wrapped her arms around his midriff and placed a soft kiss on his left shoulder blade. His tone carried enough emotion for her to know that he was boiling with contempt.

So that means no. Fara's arms tensed and his head tilted back. A tiny part of her sneered, telling her she had been a fool for thinking otherwise, for imagining that the Allfather would give his second son in marriage to a lowly Vanir maid.

She relished in the feel of his touch against hers, the life pounding beneath his skin. The seconds passed. "He only wants what's best for you." She finally spoke softly. Her eyes were brimming with tears at the thought of never seeing him again. It all would have to end. That was how it should be. They belonged to different circles. Different races. If the Allfather had made his decision who was she to change his mind? Her voice was worth nothing.

A snort made his chest vibrate and she let go of him reluctantly. He realised her plan and grabbed her wrist so she could not leave. With serious eyes he finally turned around, leaning against the rail as he drew her close against his chest. "Don't."

Fara's gaze was at first reluctant to meet his, but his soft fingers brushing against her jaw line finally made her look upward.

He underestimates me. The words were warm inside her head, yet she thought she could almost sense bitterness in them. He cannot take you from me.

Fara wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that nothing would come between them. But she had enough of the secrecy and so did he. All that sneaking around and some stolen kisses behind corners and pillars; it could not go on like that forever. He had become a part of her now, their beings coalesced.

She blinked to hide her doubt yet his falcon eyes did not miss even the tiniest flicker in hers. He raised one hand, its palm facing the ceiling. A sudden spark, like a miniature star, formed inches above it and when the light finally faded a ring of gold floated in its place.

Her jaw tensed at the realisation and for once she feared the future and what it might hold. Fara's gaze did not drift from the gold band as Loki drew it gently over her finger. The metal's glimmer was reflected in his eyes. Its meaning was clear. It was a silent statement as well as a threat to all who opposed him.

She was his, irreversibly and indisputably.

As they hurried in silent steps through the complex Fara felt a knot tighten inside her throat. No one crossed their path but twice they had to stop behind a corner. She could hear his laboured heart beat, his quick breath. None of the smooth elegance with which he normally carried himself was left as he fought for every step.

Time dragged itself out and it seemed as if the maze of corridors would never come to an end, but eventually they reached his room. Fara let out a sigh as she closed the door behind them.

I require no more assistance from you. You may go now. Loki, now released from her magic and visible again, scuffed to the bed that had lain untouched since his disappearance.

Of course! How could she expect him to remain civil for more than ten minutes? "Loki Laufeyson." She noticed him scowl at the full use of his name. "It is of no importance what you think. You can barely stand." Her eyes were now presented to the full horror of his state for now the light allowed her to trace every single patch of infected skin and torn muscle.

As she spoke she rolled the sleeves of her gown to her elbow and searched for a bowl she could fill with water and some soft cloth. She could feel his gaze piercing through her, irises glowing.

These are my chambers, Vanir. Where in the world does a mere servant derive the right to remain in the rooms of a prince? Even though only uttered mentally, it became harder and harder for him to form sentences. His sinews cried for sleep. He wished he did not have to deal with her cursed person too.

"You are too weak to heal your wounds by yourself or you would have done it already."

Ah, and you care for my health so much that you will not leave my side? Forgive me if I am not a great believer in the loyalty of the Vanir.

He did not mean all Vanir, merely herself. That much was certain judging by his sneer. She watched the satisfied curl of his lip as she struggled with the decision to either help or strangle him.

And I don't believe in the rationalism of the Frost Giants. Fact is however that it is only a matter of time until the guards know you're here. If they know, Odin and Thor know too. She glared at him with small eyes. You will likely be thrown back into your prison cell before dawn. I will stay here and make sure you don't do something stupid. My loyalties lie with Asgard and its king, not with criminals.

She knew she had struck a nerve there but he did not reply, instead puffing with anger as Fara gathered the things she needed and told him to remain still. Her cheeks were burning and she could sense his fury likewise boiling underneath his skin. His eyes refused to look at her and silently, though unwilling to affirm his defeat, let her work in peace. Fara dipped the soft linen in water until it was completely soaked, then lifted it to his shoulder and began to carefully clear his skin from all the dirt. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his stare fixed a spot far away in the opposite corner of the room. His jaw was set as he tried to keep himself from wincing from pain. He would not give her the satisfaction of seeing him suffer under the pricking sensation the cool water left on his wounds and which she was the cause of.

Fara's features meanwhile softened gradually as more and more of the grime on his arms and chest came off. The cuts that now lay revealed to her sight were spread all across his frame like angry crimson ribbons. The smell of dying flesh and faeces still clung to him like some very thick oil and although he tried to hide his embarrassment as best as he could, she sensed his desire to distance himself from her.

She was just dipping the now dark brown cloth into the bowl for the dozenth time when his hand shot forth to draw hers closer to his face. His eyes, now back to their deep jade colour, were fixed upon the thin gold band on her ring finger. His hand was soft against hers. Surprise mixed into his expression as he gazed at it, just like he had in the Avengers' base weeks earlier. To him it felt like a lifetime ago. Too many things had happened in the meantime.

She watched as a trail of emotions sparkled around his irises so faint and swift that she could not read what was reflected in the depths of his green pools. All that was gone in the blink of an eye and he resumed looking at the ground with the same indifference as before.

She prayed he did not notice her quickened pulse, the slight tremble of her fingers, even though it was close to impossible he would not. Fara paid extra heed not to let her fingertips brush against his skin as she laid free the remaining spots on his right arm.

Taking one deep breath she raised her free hand to his cheek, softly pulling his face towards her as she let the damp linen brush over the contours of his forehead, the sharp edge on his cheek bones. Beneath his eyes the water revealed grey circles. Her hand moved in soft strokes until his face was finally recognisable as that of the infamous trickster. She almost expected to encounter his demonic grin when her eyes fell again on the one thing she had tried to avoid – the threads around his mouth and slit cheek.

Uncertain at first, she guessed it would be best to first try and grow the cheek tissue together and afterwards remove the stitches.

Placing the cloth aside she let her palm cup the horrible cut and let magic stream from her into the torn layers. A deep sign escaped Loki's icy resolve and travelled across the bond to her temples. After two years with Natasha Romanov she had grown better in using the complex spell and beneath her fingers she could feel the cheek repair itself until only a bright pink scar was left. As she sat there with his face oddly cradled in her hands, she was once again aware of his poignant stare, sending fiery needles upon her person.

His body felt refreshed, younger as he stretched his now washed limbs. The aching was omnipresent, but still he could not keep his eyebrows rising with satisfaction. Of course he would need much rest and a proper bath, but this had to do for the moment.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he inspected the skin of his arms and searched for a change of clothes. Then she realised her imprudence. With flushed cheeks she turned her head and wrung the linen out one last time. She was tired and longed for her own bed sheets.

How long was I gone?

"Pardon?" His words had briskly shaken her from her thoughts. Her eyes rose again to his form and she frowned at the sight of him in his usual attire contrasting with his mangled face. He repeated the question, this time a tad annoyed.

"Loki." Her eyes widened, for he simply did not seem to understand. "You were gone over a month. Rumours of your death are circulating again."

A month. Interesting... A veil seemed to hang over his thoughts and she did not know how to interpret his words or the sudden twitch of his jaw. And I presume that you people have found out why Malekith could enter Asgard undetected?

"Well, we- we think that perhaps Heimdall-"

Ah, Heimdall. Of course. Any guesses yet about the blue eye colour?

"As far as-" She halted as his words sank in. "Wait. I don't think I've mentioned anything about Heimdall's eyes to you."

Loki pursed his lips. The part with the colour change had been a mere guess into the dark, but her confirmation – for the lack of denial made it a perfectly acceptable confirmation – added yet a new piece to the puzzle. Yes. Yes, it all made sense.

"How did you know?" Fara's body stiffened as she kept her eyes trained on his form, suddenly senses sharpened to his every movement. Curiosity and suspicion entered her form, until all was numbed by a great sense of fear. Had she made a mistake in bringing him into the palace? What if she had?

Instinctively her feet moved between him and the door. "How did you know?"

Loki fought the urge to snarl at her. Now that she had stepped in his way he realised he needed to get out of that room, come what may. Suddenly all appeared so clear before his eyes and he knew exactly what he needed to do.

The Vanir remained in her chosen spot. How dare she stop him when finally he had a plan in his pocket?

You don't understand.

"You could not know about Heimdall unless..." Her voice broke at the thought. But then, why the bruises? Why the obvious signs of torture? Why would Malekith do that to him if he was on his side?

Let me through.

No.

Had she really been such a fool?

Let me through!

"No!"

Again?

Lightning shot forth from him and hit her in the chest. The force threw them both to the ground. For seconds Loki could only hear the sound of his own breathing.

He cursed silently as he laboured to get back to his feet. Not far away he gazed down at the Vanir's motionless form. Her eyelids were resting peacefully on her cheeks and her chest rose and fell in a calm rhythm.

The fact that he had been thrown to the floor as well proved again that he needed to preserve the last bits of energy he had. However, he could not allow himself rest until he had achieved what needed to be done. His life, and many others too, depended upon it. Not that he cared much about the latter, but if his plan had to work he would need some extra help.

A part of him wondered why he had not thought of it earlier, but then again when was the last time he had been granted so much unwatched freedom? He had nothing to lose. The time was ripe.

He was finally certain where the object of his desire lay. Perhaps his short stay with Malekith had helped him sort out his priorities.

His gaze travelled frantically across the room, barely registering his surroundings now that he finally had a concrete plan.

There was a strange sensation nagging at his conscience. Regret? Why regret? He was doing her a great favour already in assuring she did not get further involved. Her interference would mean only additional trouble and besides... should he fail, for whatever reason, then she would be proclaimed guilty of helping him.

Only through chance did he catch a short movement from the corner of his eye; with relief he noticed that it was just his own reflection gleaming back at him from a mirror. That made him stop in his thoughts; in fact he eyed the looking-glass with a strange mixture of emotions, a sort of disembodied curiosity. Like a cat watching its prey he stared at it for a moment before taking a step closer, then another.

One voice in his head argued that he did not have time for that now and a second whispered that he did not want to see what the mirror would hold for him. He had not seen the full state of his body, had no idea what his face actually looked like. As he approached however, he felt a gasp escape his thin lips.

At first he did not recognise himself. Then slowly he began to carefully note each and every streak of fresh scar tissue. Subconsciously he traced the line on his cheek.

He would never admit it, but for one second he had actually felt a slight tremor of fear. How had the Vanir retained her calm? With a curling of his lip he swore to himself to take a week or two off as soon as all this was over.

But gradually his senses set back in, sharp and he looked back at his reflection with a wide grin and gleaming eyes. Without wasting another second he turned and strode out the door.

Tonight had to work according to plan.

It was late. Too late for anyone to still be lurking around the corridors. It was perfect, exactly as he needed it to be.