Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs, and most of them are heavily inspired by mythology.
"Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved."
Martin Luther
Loki stands by the bar, downing a shot of whiskey expertly, relishing in the burn as she swallows it without a wince. The situation has gone from some trivial investigation to something with meaning in a heart-beat, and it unsteadies her completely.
She is used to being in power, in control. Having all the answers to the questions before they were even asked.
So she'd gotten a little complacent, and had been backed into a corner.
Loki hates the feeling.
When she spots a familiar, towering blonde moving through the lounge with Bill, she studies his profile with keen eyes. Eric, the vampire who may well be Godric's progeny – thinking on it now, the similarities in their characters are rather prominent. When she'd known him, Godric had possessed the same aloof facade as the Viking, always putting on a show of being unfeeling. But beneath the surface, if you looked hard enough, he'd been an incredibly passionate creature; complex, ruthlessly opportunistic and unfailingly loyal to those who had earned it.
With a heart-felt sigh, Loki chucks a twenty onto the bar and meanders over to the two vampires, greeting them with a nod and settling daintily into a chair adjacent to them. They glance at her in acknowledgment, but continue on as if she hadn't joined them.
'...I care about others.' Eric states, and Bill leans forward intently.
'You care about Godric.' He amends. 'You have no obligations to Dallas or Texas. This is personal for you. Why?' The Viking is silent for a long moment, then deflects expertly.
'I hope you'll enjoy your blood substitute, which is costing me forty-five dollars.'
'I have no intention of drinking it; I just want you to pay for it.' Is the smug admittance, and it makes Eric roll his eyes.
'You're so mature.'
'Answer the question. Why this allegiance to Godric?'
'He's much beloved by his subjects.' Eric replies carelessly. Despite the serious mood of the conversation, Loki is a little amused by the slippery vagueness of his words.
'Only kings and queens have subjects, Eric, not sheriffs.' The Viking vampire clenches his jaw, looking at Bill vehemently.
'Godric could have been king of Texas had he wanted.' He bites out, faith clear as day in his expression. 'He could have been king of any vampire territory anywhere. He is twice as old as I am and very powerful. There are none above him in the new world.'
The unwavering loyalty in his words makes Loki melt a little.
'Well, if he's so powerful, how could they abduct him?'
'Now, that is what worries me. If one such as he can be taken by humans, then none of us is safe.' The Æsir mage sits back in her seat abruptly, shocked, because Eric truly believes that Godric was taken.
It is completely inconceivable that Godric is with the Fellowship out of anything less than full-cooperation - Eric must know this. Even when he and Loki first met and he'd been a mere 500 years old, Godric had been strong – stronger than most elder vampires, even – and he could never be kidnapped by humans.
No, Loki's ex-lover went willingly – although possibly under duress – and his hypothetical reasons for doing so are to be puzzled over. But Eric isn't even considering it, and it's so like a child's hope that their parents will always stay with them that any doubts swimming through her mind about Godric and Eric's relationship are cast aside.
(How sentimental of him to turn a Viking – she'd be internally gloating about it if she weren't so worried.)
'...The vampires here, they're like cowboys, if they don't get Godric back, they'll want justice.' Eric is explaining, and she realises she's missed a good chunk of their argument. 'They'll start attacking people.'
'Open aggression against humans? That's insane.' Eric smirk is condescending, but honest.
'Well, it's Texas.'
Bill leaves a short while later with a polite half-bow in Loki's direction, and Eric turns ocean-blue eyes to her with a smirk.
'I got your message,' he begins without preamble, fangs dropping with a shnik, 'eager to see me?'
'We need to talk...' She considers the crowded, vampire heavy lounge around them before adding: 'In private.'
'Why, Ms Storm, how untoward.' He chuckles with an absolutely filthy little smirk. Loki rolls her eyes and stands, a motion that he mirrors. 'Allow me to escort you to our room, then.'
She had discovered - upon arrival at Hotel Camilla - that the room booked for her stay is adjoining with Eric's. Sookie had been outraged on her behalf, but Loki had merely shrugged off the part-fae's ire. The Viking is a lot of things, but she highly doubts a rapist is one of them (and the suite is gorgeous).
Brushing past his teasingly offered arm, Loki strides with purpose towards the elevators. It is a little aggravating that he keeps stride with her so easily that they enter the cab in unison.
'Tell me,' Eric murmurs, 'have you ever been bitten by a vampire before?' She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the breathy, seductive tone of his voice but answers without looking at her tall companion.
'Yes.'
'And,' he moves closer, the feel of his gaze on her face an almost physical touch, 'did you enjoy the feeling?'
Loki's lips twitch despite her best mask of nonchalance. Honestly, Eric Northman is incorrigible. 'When it was consensual, yes.'
The metal doors open before them with a quiet bing, and Loki moves forward without elaborating – let him ponder that comment for a while – and swipes the key card through the scanner outside Suite 93. Their shared lounge is rather minimalist, but still comfortable: The only large furniture is a set of three dark brown leather settees sat around the low glass coffee table and in front of a rather realistic fake fireplace that casts the whole room with a warm glow; the wall directly across from the door is nothing more than a floor-to-ceiling window with a spectacular view of the Dallas skyline (and a lightproof blind, naturally); the wallpaper is a deep red, only interrupted by the odd large-framed photograph. From her earlier inspection, Loki knew that the bedrooms were a little more populated; fitted with similar tall windows; large, downy beds dressed in dark brown Egyptian cotton; tall wardrobes made of solid oak and big enough to fit three adults inside comfortably and en suite bathrooms. The only difference between the almost identical rooms was that the one to the right included a pretty little vanity table – Loki had claimed it as her own, justifying that Eric would hardly have a use for such a thing.
'I wanted to let you know I'll be going out during the day.' Loki begins unceremoniously the moment the door swings shut behind the Viking, perching on the arm of the sofa facing him. After a moment of studying her silently, Eric collapses into a seat opposite her, lounging with his legs spread wide and one arm thrown over the back of the chair.
'And why is that?'
'I'm going to check out the Fellowship.' Absentmindedly, Loki slips out of her high heels, crossing a leg across her lap to massage her slightly sore instep. 'Get a look at what we may be up against if this whole debacle results in direct confrontation.'
'Very forward-thinking,' Eric comments approvingly, 'but these idiots tried to have both you and Ms. Stackhouse kidnapped – it may be dangerous.'
'I doubt it – I'm just going to have a look around. Maybe go to City Hall to get the blueprints of the church.'
'Nonetheless,' he pushes, 'my protection does not extend to daylight hours, and I highly doubt Bill will allow you to take his human into danger.'
'First of all, I don't expect you to look after me during the day. Second of all,' Loki's nose wrinkles in distaste, 'I'm not taking Sookie.'
'Oh?'
'No way.' Placing both feet firmly back on the hardwood floor, she reaches up to free her hair from the pins holding it up in a messy bun, placing them one by one onto the glass table before her. 'Have you met her? The girl can't lie to save her life. Not to mention that the Fellowship is on the lookout for two women.'
That, and Loki plans to spend the day under layers of invisibility charms – a tag-along would surely scupper that scheme. If it were almost any other vampire missing, she mightn't have bothered, but it was Godric. Ergo, Loki has a personal stake in the situation. The things I do out of loyalty.
'So you say.'
'I'll try not to be late for the meeting at the nest, though it may be unavoidable.'
'That's fine.' When Loki sends him a curious look – she'd been under the impression that it was important – he elaborates. 'Meeting with the lieutenants of the area will likely mean a tedious amount of formalities and small talk. And I'd rather not expose an unclaimed human to more vampires than necessary.'
'And they say chivalry is dead...' she mutters dryly, and he flashes her a hungry look.
'Not chivalry. I'd just rather you weren't spirited away to become a pet before I could taste you.'
'Well, please excuse me while I swoon.' Eric chuckles at the acerbic sarcasm, and, one hand clutching the straps of her shoes, Loki stands. 'I need to rest if I'm going to be out all day.' She dips her head politely in pardon, and moves towards the door to her bedroom...
...but her path is blocked by the towering blonde.
Eric's arms come around her in the macabre parody of a lover's embrace, one hand firmly on the small of her back and the other tangled in her wild black hair in a steely hold as he forces her to look up at his flawless, pale face.
'Just when I feel I am beginning to understand you, you surprise me yet again.' Eric informs her quietly, eyes flicking over her features like they might reveal the answer to a great mystery. 'And being unable to smell your blood is just making me more and more curious, Ms Storm.'
'Well, that's just peachy.' Loki's voice is almost mortifying breathy – a consequence of being pressed so surely against his cold chest – but she meets his eyes fearlessly. She's unsurprised when the tug of glamour nudges against her mental shields.
Eric is old, so the pull is far stronger than most – but it still doesn't stand a chance.
'What are you?'
'It's a secret.' She whispers with a cheeky smirk, only wincing a little when his grip on her hair tightens.
'In a thousand years I've learnt that all secrets can be discovered.' The Viking tells her, thumb tracing tiny circles over her carotid artery. Then his eyes harden, and Eric releases her completely to draw back a little. 'Try not to get into trouble during the day – it'd reflect very poorly one of my employees in the area were killed.' Loki nods in acceptance, but holds their eye contact for a long moment.
'You know,' she addresses him with forced casualness; 'we'll find him. Godric.'
For a moment Loki thinks he'll ignore her words, shrugging them off as meaningless supplication. But his hand shoots out and he catches her free hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a feather-light kiss to the knuckles.
'Sleep well, Victoria.'
He's gone with little more than a shuffle of displaced air, and Loki is still for a moment, frowning down at the hand he'd been holding and eventually giving it a shake to try and rid herself of the lingering feel of cool lips pressed to her skin.
Damn. She's been far too long between lovers if a peck on the hand has her so flustered.
xXx
Loki wakes at two pm, seconds before the cheap plastic alarm clock on the nightstand starts trilling. She shuts it off with a slap of her palm, and rolls out of the deliciously plush bed, stretching her arms up above her head with a groan.
Æsir don't sleep like humans do – they rest more out of luxury than necessity – and Loki can go days without sleep even in her temporarily human form because of her magical energy. But she likes sleeping, and it recharges her power quickly; she'll definitely need all the magic she can get for today.
Once Loki has showered, dressed and practically inhaled an order of French toast and a cup of green tea, she takes a deep breath and deposits herself on the roof of the Bank of America Plaza (1). Flinching at the rapid change of environment, and a little staggered by just how high of the ground she is, Loki backs away from the edges of the roof and plops to the ground, legs stretched out in front of her.
I am not afraid of heights, she reminds herself stubbornly. But flying is Thor's area of expertise, and a fall from the top of the tallest building in Dallas would probably hurt like a bitch.
Loki takes a deep, calming breath and settles into a trance-like state of mind. It's one of the first thing one learns as a magic-user on Asgard, so it's easy, and Loki closes her eyes as tendrils of invisible magic stretch out from her in every direction.
Find Godric, she commands, bringing the distinct memory of the magic of the vampire's soul to the forefront of her mind, search the city.
Like a sonic-boom, the power races outwards to fulfil its purpose, eager to please her, and Loki settles in for a long wait. It's risky to use sentient magic for this – uniquely Æsir magic – but otherwise she'd have to direct the search herself, and that could take daysin such a large area.
And time is certainly of the essence.
xXx
It's midnight by the time Loki has completed her tasks, gone back to the hotel to clean up and arrived at the nest where the meeting is scheduled.
When she'd located Godric – rather predictably in the heart of The Fellowship of the Sun church – Loki had scoped out the area extensively, utilizing a double-strength invisibility spell and a little sleight of hand to filch a map from a particularly absentminded volunteer. In a stroke of ingenuity, she'd also taken the poor bastard's digital camera, and thanks to Hotel Camilla's in-house processing service, is now in possession of photographic evidence of the Fellowship's layout.
Her strategic mind and propensity to sneak had been just two of the things that had made her an outcast in Asgard for most a large portion of her existence, but she's never been ashamed of it; it is certainly paying off now.
After making a pit-stop in her suite to shower and change, she arms herself with the note Eric had set out with the address scrawled on it and headed out. A quick text to Sookie from back of her taxi confirms that she hasn't missed anything of great importance, but the Æsir mage offers the driver fifty-dollars to speed up nonetheless. Loki is a little ashamed to admit that she had feels a little drained after a day of non-stop magic – it has been far too long since she'd expended any serious power.
She'll have to pay Thor a training visit, soon.
At present however, Loki strides up the path in front of a detached, modern condo, dressed in charcoal grey slacks and a sleeveless cream chiffon shirt, and studying the house where her old friend lives with a critical eye. Honestly, she would mistake it for any other middle-class home in the Dallas suburbs if it wasn't for the shimmering protection wards surrounding the house like a bubble.
The black-haired woman steps through the haze of mist-like protection carelessly, begrudging allowing the foreign magic to engulf her, weighing her intentions and finally dissipating. Loki gives a sniff of disdain, always a bit of a snob in the face of trivial witchcraft, but pushes the front door open to enter.
(And damn, no wonder Godric could just up and disappear if she could waltz into the place uncontested. What a joke.)
Following the raised voices through a large sitting room, Loki turns a corner and is faced with Eric, Bill and Sookie sitting with their backs towards her, transfixed on a Spanish vampire and a man dressed like a cowboy – presumably, they are Area nine's lieutenants, Stan and Isabel.
It's an uninspiring thought, but Loki observes the interaction nonetheless, unnoticed in the doorway.
'... the federal government can bombs us back to the Middle Ages.'
'Things were better then!'
Isabel growls. 'Then go to Romania and live in a cave, you ranchero poser.' Eric leaps to his feet, looking more pissed off than Loki's ever seen him.
'Godric has protected you, made you rich, and you stand here spitting and scratching like infants!'
'Don't any of you care that there's a traitor in your midst?' Bill interjects from his place on the couch beside Sookie before the Viking can rip any heads off – both of the Texan vampires immediately tense.
'No.'
'Impossible.' Sookie nods, the motion making her ponytail bounce charmingly.
'Somebody tried to kidnap me and Vick from the airport.'
'Who the hell is "Vick"?' The cowboy scoffs, and Loki takes that as her cue.
'That's me.' She pipes up, and nearly laughs aloud as everyone in the room jumps in shock. Loki ignores the fact that all the vampires present have moved to stand and dropped fang in surprise, and saunters towards them. 'Hey, Sookie, Mr Compton, Mr Northman,' she greets each of them with nods, then eyes the unfamiliar vampires with a dubious expression, 'spitting, scratching infants. You guys should really start locking your doors.'
Sookie hides a smile behind her hand demurely, and even Eric's lips twitch as he glides over to stand at her side.
'Stan, Isabel; this is Victoria Storm. Victoria, these are Godric's lieutenants,' the Viking introduces, then turns to her and lowers his voice so he is addressing her alone, 'you're late.'
'I've been busy. Sorry.' Her completely unapologetic smile belies her words, though, and Eric smirks down at her.
'What is this about a kidnapping?' Isabel asks, bringing Loki out of her staring contest with the Viking, who she allows to lead her to the coach with a hand on the small of her back.
'You were the only ones that knew we were coming,' Bill says, eyes narrowed, 'either one of you told the church, or someone you told about our arrival did.'
'Yep. There's a fox in the chicken coop.' Loki quips, tone light – Stan eyes her disdainfully, before leaning down so his face is inches from her own.
'So this is Northman's pet.' He purrs, gaze raking over her form. It makes Eric's leers seem positively innocent, but Loki's smile fixes in place.
'I'm no-one's "pet".' Stan sneers, and it's an ugly, dangerous expression.
'Oh, everybody's somebody's pet, darlin'.'
'Really?' Loki tilts her head with the innocence of a spider sweet-talking a fly. 'So, does that make you Godric's lap dog or...'
She is cut off when the cowboy lunges, but Loki had seen the attack coming from a mile away, and a wall of magic slams the vampire into the ground before he can so much as breathe on her. She peers down from her leisurely perch on the chair, resting the stiletto heel of her shoe on his throat with deceptive gentility, staring down at Stan with electric green eyes.
'Ooh, temper, temper,' she chides, voice laced with dark amusement, 'bad dog.'
Or at least, that's how Loki wishes it happens.
In reality, though:
Stan sneers, and it's an ugly, dangerous expression. 'Oh, everybody's somebody's pet, darlin'.'
...And then the tall, powerful form of Eric is at her side, pushing the cowboy away with a hand to the chest.
'Victoria is a valuable part of my retinue, and is not to be harmed.'
(Loki tries to remember when he stopped calling her "Ms Storm".)
Stan grunts in annoyance, but backs off reluctantly. They may be in Area nine, but Eric is a Sheriff in his own right, and at least 500 years older than either lieutenant – in a fight, Stan would stand a snowball's chance in Múspellsheimr. (2)
Loki shoots Eric a look that screams "I can take care of myself" but nods in grudging thanks. Knocking the cowboy off of his high horse may have been easy (and therapeutic) but it would have made everyone present aware that Loki had power, and she tries to play such things close to the vest.
Luckily, Bill sets the conversation back on topic. 'We need a plan.'
Stan opens his mouth, likely about to spew another "we should slaughter everyone" speech, but Isabel shoots him an acidic look that makes him close it again, and Eric answers instead.
'I go in and search for Godric before the humans have a chance to stop me.'
'Bad idea,' Loki informs him immediately, 'The Fellowship has a shit-ton of weapons designed specifically for killing vampires, and a bunch of trained zealots gagging to do so.'
The Viking raises a challenging eyebrow. 'You think humans armed with sharpened sticks will stop me?'
'I think nets made from silver will put a damper on your day.' The Asgardian shoots back without blinking at his challenging tone. He doesn't give any outward sign of acknowledging her words as true, but Eric deflates a little. 'Lucky for us, I spent the day sneaking around and-' Loki produces the map and the photographs from her purse with a dramatic flourish, handing them to the Viking triumphantly '-we can take a more covert approach.'
The onlookers stare curiously at the papers in his hands, and Eric's eyes scan over them quickly before his gaze flicks back to Loki and a slow smirk grows on his lips.
'Careful, Victoria; if you keep being so useful I may never let you go back to your little waitressing job.'
The statement rings with undertones of truth,but despite the fact many would find such a prospect dubious, the black-haired woman just grins up at him.
She'd love to see him try.
'Look, as I can see it, the answer is pretty simple, so this is what we're gonna do:' Sookie announces imperiously, making attention snap to the telepath. 'Vick and I will infiltrate the Fellowship of the Sun.'
And Loki slumps where she stands, good mood dropping immediately as the conversation descends into chaos.
Odin save me from the silly fairy who will get me killed.
xXx
When it is finally, finally agreed that Sookie, Loki and Hugo – Isabel's human, who Loki doesn't think much of even from their brief introduction – would go into the church during the day to attempt to free Godric, they return to the Hotel Camilla to prepare.
To say that Loki doesn't like the plan is putting it far too mildly, and despite trying vehemently to be left out of the infiltration, the choice had been made for her the moment Sookie had opened her mouth.
Faith is an incredibly powerful thing. The Æsir had begun travelling to and from Earth since eons before Loki was even a spark in her mother's eye, but they'd only truly made themselves known a little before 1000AD – and the humans of the time called them "gods". However, due to the arrogant majority that did nothing to protest this, most had been shocked when, soon after the Norse religion had begun, prayers began whispering through their heads. In setting themselves to be worshipped, the nobles of Asgard had unwittingly become deities.
Or, so Thor had told her, decades later. Loki hadn't exactly been on friendly terms with the court at the time, but as with so many things, she had rolled with it and embraced her new role whole-heartedly (even if mortals believed that she would bring about the end of the world and thought she was a man (3)).
Then a decade after the Norse religion was established, Loki had walked into a mosque in East Africa and collapsed, feeling as if she was being disembowelled. The otherworldliness and magic had drained from her slowly, leaving her terrified and exhausted and completely without her power.
None of the Æsir were sure what caused this phenomenon, but a dvergr scholar had once speculated to Loki that the concentration of foreign faith that saturated such places rejected the intrusion of what it classed as other. Yet one thing was for certain: being in houses of worship made the Æsir human.
And even though Loki wanted to see Godric home safely, a sharp self-preservation instinct had kept her alive for four millennia, and going into the Fellowship of the Sun went against her gut.
Still, she attempts to keep the disquiet off her face when Eric enters their shared suite, kicks off his shoes and drapes himself on the sofa adjacent to the one Loki is laying on, stretching his long legs out before him. The Asgardian looks up from the book she'd barely been able to concentrate on, sending him a half-hearted smirk.
'How was your meal?'
'Exquisite.' He comments absently, staring into nothing with a familiar glint in his eye. Uh-oh. Loki slams the book in her lap shut, giving up all pretence of reading and practically jumping to her feet. The vampire's attention snaps to her at the sharp motion.
'You've got a look on your face.' She steps around the coffee table, moving closer. He quirks a brow at her odd behaviour. 'I know that look – I practically invented it.'
'And what look is that?' He asks amusedly when she perches at the arm of the chair nearest his feet.
'The one that means you've done something under-handed, morally ambiguous and incredibly devious.' Loki informs him bluntly, and he stills – she takes that to mean she's correct. After a moment, he huffs.
'It is... unsettling to be read so well.' She merely shrugs as if to say "sorry, can't help it", and he leans a little closer. 'Aren't you going to demand explanations? Chastise me?'
'Well, telling you off would be a little hypocritical of me. I've done my fair share of devious things. And, is it really any of my business?'
'Not particularly,' he allows after a moment, 'at the very least, it shouldn't affect your part in tomorrow's task.'
Loki's face drops at the mention of the infiltration, light mood chased away succinctly at the reminder. Eric notices, of course, and clamps a hand on her knee to keep her in place as he shifts so they're faces are only a foot apart.
She is suddenly aware of how tiny she is compared to him. Eric is built in supersize, all wide shoulders and towering frame. Loki is a solid 5'7", but the vampire has easily eight inches on her, and even sitting at a lower height Eric seems to tower over her. Not to mention that, with her slight, aesthetically fragile build, the hand on her upper leg covers nearly half of her thigh and makes her feel absolutely delicate.
'Is there a problem?' He asks, and Loki snaps out of her trivial thoughts and back into reality; reality where she was being sent into a church. She grimaces almost imperceptibly.
'I have a bad feeling about tomorrow.'
'A bad feeling like it may rain,' he asks, eyes sharpening, 'or a bad feeling like you had before the raid on my bar?'
Huh. She hadn't thought he'd noticed her reaction to that. Clearly she's not the only one who gets underestimated in this relationship.
Loki considers lying: telling him it's probably nothing; giving no warning that the trip into the church might go horribly, horribly wrong. Things may play out more cleanly if she doesn't let her presence affect things at all and instead allows the pieces to fall into place like her mother would encourage. "Let the Norns take play their hands" Frigg (4) would say, with a beatific smile and a gentle hand on her cheek.
But the Norns (5) are all bitches, and the choices she makes don't just concern her own well-being. Sookie, and Hugo, and numerous civilian bystanders could very well become casualties in the church tomorrow. Godric could be killed.
'The latter.' She confesses, and his eyes darken. 'I don't trust Hugo; Sookie is a liability; Stan is volatile; Bill and Isobel will go out of way to get their humans out safe no matter what; you would slaughter anyone in your path if it meant getting Godric out; I don't think I'll be of much use to anyone, and the Fellowship may be better prepared for us than you think they are.'
Eric is silent as he absorbs her words, takes in the genuinely anxious spark in her eyes. For a moment, Loki fears he will dismiss her concerns as everyday human paranoia, or worse, laugh.
For a breathtaking rare moment, Loki is without pretence, and she will later pin-point this as the moment she began to trust Eric Northman.
'You're right.' He murmurs after a tense pause, and she can see the sharp, cunning mind that kept him alive for a thousand years spinning rapidly to deal with the problem. 'I'll consider it. But know that I will proceed with caution. And Bill, at least, will not a problem.'
'Right. Okay.' Loki's nods in acceptance, looking at her lap a little self-consciously. Moments of true vulnerability were few and far between for the Æsir mage, and she isn't too sure how she feels about Eric witnessing one. But at least he hadn't closed down and dismissed her. 'Thank you. I should get some sleep, prepare for tomorrow.'
Loki pulls away, sending the vampire a small smile and wishing him a good day, shutting the door to her bedroom gently behind her and leaning back against the solid wood, mind racing.
Loki tries to stay positive, reminds herself that even as a human she's still smart and strong and could probably take on three men Eric's size with her fists. But the dark voice in the back of her mind hisses at her, and she's unable to escape the reality that, for the first time in a long time, it's a true possibility that she may meet her end.
Eventually, she takes a ragged breath and draws her cell-phone from her purse, dialling a number from memory
'Hello, brother,' she greets, smiling at his whooping voice, 'can I speak to Astrid?'
xXx
From her seat in the back of Hugo's jeep, Loki eyes the towering Church with some apprehension as she takes in every detail of the exterior. She had been told by Sookie that the blonde and Isabel's human would be playing the part of an engaged couple, with Loki as their the maid of honour – it is as good a lie as any, she supposes, but is completely dispassionate about the pastel pink "church clothes" she has been forced into for the occasion.
As the car pulls into a parking space, Loki feels the tug of Godric's presence in the back of her mind, and has to restrain herself from running to him. Knowing he is so close yet so unattainable stirs a physical ache in her chest, and for a moment, she feels like the barely mature Æsir she had been when they'd first met, stubborn and proud and desperately in need to affection.
Then she notices a blonde Barbie-doll approaching them, and snaps back to the present with a cheesy grin settling on her face.
'Hi, there.' The woman chirps, smile so practised it is almost robotic. 'I just happened to be looking out the window as you were driving up, and I thought I'd come on out and greet you myself. I'm Sarah Newlin. And you all are?
Sookie shakes her offered hand with a trademark "Crazy Sookie" grin. 'Hi. Holly Simpson. I cannot believe I'm meeting you in person. This is my fiancé Rufus Dobson, and my best friend Tallulah Grant.'
'Well, excellence.' Sarah chirps. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Rufus, Tallulah.'
'It's an honour.'
'Oh, the pleasure's ours.' Loki insists, full to the brim with faux-sincerity.
'Now, how about you all follow me in and we'll see if Steve is available. I'm sure he'd love to meet you both.'
The telepath tenses, but her expression remains perky. 'For real? Reverend Newlin himself? Oh, that would be just super.'
Yeah. Super.
They follow Sarah towards the looming entry-way of the church, and Loki slows minutely just before the threshold, taking a bracing breath.
Then she steps forward.
(1) The Bank of America Plaza is the tallest building in Dallas at 280.7 metres (921 ft) high. In layman's terms, that's holy-shit-oh-my-god-get-me-down high. And yes, despite what she may tell herself, my OFC!Loki has a bit of a fear of heights. (So do I.)
(2) Múspellsheimr is the Old Norse name for Muspelheim; the realm of fire, and one of the Nine Realms. It's really fun changing everyday sayings (like "a snowball's chance in hell") into things that are more relevant Loki to say or think.
(3) Legends of Loki most always say that he is, in fact a male (and Tom Hiddleston does little to deter this) and speak of him bringing about Ragnarök – the end of the world. The reasons for these legends (and the general bad-press of OFC!Loki in mythology) will be explained later on.
(4) Frigg is Odin's wife, Queen of Asgard. Much like Odin, there is a lot of speculation about her, though she is said to be able to see the future (yet never reveals it). In the case of Ever After, she is the mother of OFC!Loki and her brothers.
(5) The Norns are female beings said to rule the fates of gods and men alike in Norse Mythology – comparable to the Fates of Greek Mythology. The three main Norns are Urðr, Verðandi and Skuld, though there are others. In this fic, though, they are not implied to be real, and my OFC!Loki calling them "bitches" is something like one of us mere mortals saying "fate is a bitch".
