Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my OCs, and most of them are heavily inspired by mythology.

WARNING: There is canon sexual violence in this chapter. Please proceed with caution.


"There is nothing more frightful than ignorance in action."

Collected Works, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


In most creatures, the memory of pain fades over time.

Humans forget the feel of childbirth, and the pain of a broken bone is not so bad when looking back on it. A vampire will likely forget the sensation of silver burning skin if it happened long ago. For all there is to say about the Æsir, one thing that should be noted is that they almost neverforget the past (though they are known to overlook it).

So the feeling of having her power ripped out of her is every bit as excruciating as Loki remembers, and it's a fight to keep from reacting as she sets her foot onto holy ground. It's like being burned from the inside out, every single part of her reconfiguring to become truly human and the magic sizzling out of her pores like poison being drawn from a wound.

Loki forces herself to keep moving, even as her muscles begin to feel weak, and no-one glances at her when she gives a miniscule grunt of agony as she trails after Sookie and Hugo.

Luckily, while she may have temporarily lost her sorcery, the barriers wrapped around her mind are so deeply ingrained that they cling to her even as a without magical back-up – Loki's supposes it's just as well, because she doesn't want Sookie digging around her head and seeing four-thousand years of memories.

Talk about giving the game away.

Feeling weaker than she has in centuries, Loki attempts to ignore the foreign feeling of being completely without power, and jogs forward to the telepath's side, mindset focusing on her purpose here.

'Y'all go ahead and talk to the reverend,' she insists with a fixed blissful expression, 'I just need to use to powder room. Will you point me in the right direction, Mrs. Newlin?'

'Of course, Tallulah!' The Barbie-doll replies – she is so squeaky. 'It's right around the corner – and please, call me "Sarah".'

Loki thanks her, throws Sookie a look that screams "be careful" and sets off. The map of the church layout she'd procured yesterday had proved very useful indeed, and this morning she'd attempted to familiarise both herself and Sookie with it. The telepath had speculated that they would likely be keeping Godric in a no-access area, like the storage rooms or the basement, and Loki had agreed. And from her earlier scan of the grounds, she surmises that he is underground, so it is clearly the latter.

She's slips through the halls, checking every doorway she comes across for any stairs leading down when she registers the sound of someone breathing at her back.

She tenses, just in time for something hard and heavy to slam into the back of her head. Loki drops like a rock.

Fuck, is the last though racing through her mind before her vision blacks out, I'd forgotten how much being knocked out hurts.

xXx

'-oria, Vick, Vick!'

Someone's... shaking her. And her head hurts. And she can't feel her power.

As soon as these facts sink into focus Loki jolts upright, eyes snapping open and gasping for breath.

'Oh, thank God!' She is promptly engulfed into a warm embrace by her co-worker. 'I was so worried when they dragged you down here!'

'...Sookie?'

'Yeah,' the part-fae pulls back, eyes wide with concern, 'it's me, Vick. You alright?'

Right. She was in The Fellowship of The Sun Church. To look for Godric. And she'd been knocked out.

Son of a bitch.

'Son of a bitch.' She voices, bringing a hand up to touch the back of her sore head and grimacing at lump she feels there. 'Someone's gonna get their ass kicked for this.' She grumbles, but shoots Sookie a reassuring look. 'But I'm okay – where are we? How long was I out?'

'In the basement – Steve said it was his father's tomb, but he knew who we were from the beginning,' the telepath explains with a shudder at the mention of the Reverend, '- you were bought down a little after we were put in here, and it's morning, now.'

Shit. She'd been out a whole day?

Loki absorbs the news, considering their options with a glance around the wire cage storeroom.

'Did you try calling for Godric during the night? Was there any sign he was down here?'

Sookie gulps and shakes her head "no".

Loki breathes out a heavy sigh – what the hell was the vampire doing? – but staggers to her feet to inspect the lock on the wire cage door. 'Then we need to get out.'

'Ah, ah, ah!' She rears back a little when a man she recognizes as Steve Newlin comes down the stairs with a huge brick-like man, smiling manically. 'I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, Ms Grant.'

Loki's smile is a mocking imitation of his cheery disposition. 'Fuck you, you sick Jesus-freak.'

Something in his eyes hardens, but his expression doesn't falter. 'I'm only asking you as a courtesy to y'all. My Soldiers of the Sun have orders to apprehend strangers they catch wanderin' around, with force if necessary – if ya'll sneak about it may not end pretty.'

The bald man grunts in agreement.

'Yeah, your "soldiers" can go suck a...' Loki is cut off when a hand is slapped over her mouth, and she shoots Sookie a narrow eyed look, but allows it.

It's probably not the best idea to insult to the psychos anyway.

'Refreshments?' Steve indicates the tray of sandwiches in his hand. 'I hope y'all are enjoying your time here.'

'They're coming for us, you know?' The telepath tells him proudly, and the Reverend gives a smug giggle.

'Yeah, well, that's what I thought. Figured two pretty girls like you'd have a vamp or two running to your rescue.' He sets the tray down beside the edge of the cage. 'Actually, we were kinda hopin' for it, weren't we Gabe?'

'Yes, sir. Bring it on.'

'Yeah, we're ready for them.' Steve says with a smug smile. 'We've been ready for a long time.'

Sookie looks disbelievingly between the two men, mouth gaping open. 'You're gonna get yourself killed. That's not a threat, it's a fact.'

The fanatical Reverend chuckles condescendingly. 'They've got you all twisted up, haven't they, with their…' He grimaces. '...with their glamouring and their empty promises and their evil blood.'

From behind Sookie's hand, Loki scoffs. Zealots. 'You're the ones who are twisted!' The blonde spits. 'You call yourself Christians? Jesus would be ashamed of you.'

'Oh, I guess we're just gonna have to agree to disagree on that one. Now, things got a little out of hand last night, and I apologize for that.' Steve nods at Loki – because she was so going to forgive the bastard for kidnapping her and cracking her head open. 'But I'm not the monster that the vampire-lovin' media makes me out to be.'

Sookie finally releases Loki, and shakes her head, muttering a sarcastic "yeah right". He continues on as if he didn't hear her.

'All I want from you is a couple of answers, and then I'll be more than happy to feed you a nice hot meal and send you on your way.'

Hugo, who until now had been slumped despondently in a corner, leaps to his feet. 'What do you want to know?'

Sookie hisses at him to shut-up, but Loki merely regards him with cool eyes.

'Their names are Victoria Storm and Sookie Stackhouse, and I'm Hugo Ayers. We were sent here by the vampires of Area Nine to find their sheriff.'

Steve's face drops completely, realization dawning in his dark eyes as he turns to the blonde.

'Sookie Stackhouse. From Bon Temps?' Sookie blinks at him, confused. 'Jason Stackhouse's… sister. Am I right?' Loki and the telepath share completely baffled looks – what the hell did Jason have to do with it? – and the blonde steps closer to the wire cage.

'You know Jason? He's got nothin' to do with this.' The question remains unanswered, hanging in the still air ominously as Steve and Gabe exchange a dark, dangerous look and retreat without further comment up the stairs. Then:

'Are you mentally deficient?' Loki snaps at Hugo, short-tempered at the whole situation. The man clenches his jaw defensively.

'We sat down here all night waiting for someone to save us. You can go on and play damsels in distress all you want, but one way or another, I'm getting' us out of here.'

'Hugo, do me a favour, please.' Sookie announces, sounding tired and worried as she slumps to the floor. 'Just shut the fuck up.'

They fall silent, stewing in their own displeasures. Noting Hugo's discontented mutterings and Sookie's almost palpable sulk, the black-haired woman retreats to a corner, legs stretched out on the ground and arms crossed over her chest. The throb in her skull is lessening, but it's still persistently unpleasant, so Loki allows herself to sink into meditation to hurry along the long hours of the day.

Isabel's human is right in saying that they are waiting for a vampire rescue, but Loki is far from a damsel, and at night-fall she'll fight tooth and nail to prove it.

Night-fall. If all goes well, Loki will see Godric.

A fond smile flickers over her face at the thought, picturing the more clean-cut but still-the-same vampire that she's caught occasional glimpses of in Hugo's mind.

When they'd been together, he had been a wild, untameable creature, drenched in bloodshed and following his baser urges. But Loki had hardly been much better, and the two of them had met in the modern-day Lake District when they'd been hunting – her for deer, him for anything humanoid. They'd almost ripped one another apart with their bare hands before they'd reached an impasse and actually begun talking.

A friendship with one of the most bloodthirsty vampires on the British Isles was hardly considered "proper" for a Princess of Asgard, but something between them had clicked at that first meeting, and she'd hardly given a damn about her reputation even then. They began meeting regularly, often to hunt together, and when he'd invited her to travel with him Loki had barely considered saying "no". Somehow along the way, they'd become lovers too – although, there wasn't much in the way of romance between them. Godric had been a symbol for everything Loki longed for – free and uncaring for trivialities – and, looking back on it now, it had been a pivotal moment in her estrangement from Asgard.

But she'd been drifting away from the golden halls of her father's court long before she was banished, and her brief, burning affair with the Pict (1) vampire was only a pebble at the beginning of an avalanche.

A bang on the wires of the cage jerks her out of her calm state of mind rudely.

'Hey!' Hugo cries, face pale and having shed his suit jacket at some point in the day. 'Hey, I need to use the bathroom. Come on, let me out of here!'

Sookie, chin resting against her knees, shoots him a tired look. 'You have to hold it.'

'I need to get the hell out of here.' He shakes her head, beginning to pace about their prison in agitation.

'Hugo, this is not helping.' The telepath stands, moves towards him. 'Just sit down. Try to relax.' Sookie places a reassuring hand on his, and jerks back as if burned.

'You.' She exclaims, tone shocked. 'You're the traitor.'

'Oh, for fuck's sake,' Loki groans, shoulders slumping, 'I knew I didn't like you.'

They ignore the commentary.

'How? W-Why?'

'I used to be just like you.' He explains with a hint of desperation in his voice. 'Thought I was a real emancipated thinker, especially when Isabel took me to bed, and the sex was… amazing. The best I ev… well, you know. It's addictive, isn't it? To be desired by something that powerful.'

Spineless bottom-feeder, Loki thinks darkly, watching him with a stormy expression. She has no tolerance for traitors, but his words make Sookie flinch away, disgusted.

'I'm no addict.'

'Nah. I guess you wouldn't know how your life changes to suit them.' Hugo laughs bitterly. 'You start missin' work, can't get up in the morning, can't stand to leave them after dark. Before you know it, you're somebody you don't even recognize.'

The blonde shakes her head, unable to compute the logic – Loki can't blame her. 'So you went to the Fellowship because you can't control yourself?'

'I begged her to turn me. It was the only way we could be together as equals. But see, they don't want us to be equals...'

'You've got to be fucking kidding me!' Loki interrupts with a groan, and her fellow prisoners turn to her abruptly. 'You mean we're here, Godric's here, all because you're a vamp-wannabe?!'

'You-!'

'Shut up!' She barks, and the churning rage in her green eyes is enough to give him pause as she clambers to her feet. 'It's morons like you that make me wish vampires weren't real – because Odin forbid you live forever.'

'All they care about is their own kind.' Hugo fires back weakly, obviously having missed her slip-up. 'That's why I joined the Fellowship.'

Sookie interjects before Loki can rip off his arm and beat him with it – an option that is becoming more and more appealing. 'So if the Newlins care so much about you, how come you're still in here?' He falters to find a rebuttal, and the telepath sets her jaw. 'Face it, Hugo. You're nothin' but a fangbangin' traitor to them.'

He shakes off her words, completely in denial and delusional, and moves to bang on the cage once more.

'Gabe. Gabe, they know everything!' You can let me out now.' The silence that meets him is telling. 'Hey. Anybody! Come on, let me out!'

'Yep.' Sookie says, voice drenched in sarcasm. 'You're so all-fired important to them, aren't ya?'

Sometimes, Loki can't help but appreciate the Stackhouse attitude.

Both women settle next to one another in one corner of the cage, shooting daggers at Hugo whenever he so much as glances at them. Eventually, Sookie leans a little against her with a tired sigh.

'You okay?' Loki whispers and the telepath's head bobs against her shoulder.

'Headache. It's quiet near you.' Sookie hums in thought. 'Dunno why I never noticed it before, but I can't read your mind.'

'Oh?' She'd wondered when the telepath would notice – there was no magic here to prevent it, after all.

'Nope. Not a peep.' Loki glances down at the blonde, observing her reaction to this news. 'Guess Eric's right after all – you are different.'

'You have no idea, Sookie.' She confesses wryly, and the Æsir mage's lips spread into a grin when the telepath huffs in frustration at the complete non-explanation.

Twenty minutes later, though, Gabe comes storming down the stairs, and every inch of good-humour evaporates from her.

Fist clenched, face red, gritted teeth... everything about the hulking man screams aggression – it makes Loki slide to her feet and tug Sookie up with her.

'Careful.' She murmurs at the telepath's questioning glance, placing herself in front of her protectively.

'Gabe. What happened to your face?' Hugo, who had slumped in relief, is oblivious to the tensed women. 'Listen, they know everything, which never would have happened if you hadn't kept me locked down with a goddamn mind-reader. I hope the reverend knows that I'm gonna need protection now.'

Then Gabe opens the door and slams his fist into the smaller man's jaw with all his strength – Hugo crumbles like soggy paper.

'You want protection, you fangbangin' sack of shit?' He snarls, kicking the floored man in the gut with his steel-toed boots. Behind Loki, Sookie screams in fright. 'How's that for protection, huh? Here's a little more protection for ya.'

The black-haired woman observes the scene with dark eyes, mind racing. Hugo is a traitor, and the vampires of Area 9 would likely do worse than beating him up – she and Sookie could make a run for it out of the gaping door, get some help, find Godric and get out. But human's are fragile, and Gabe is pissed off, so Hugo may just end up bleeding internally and dying on the cold concrete floor of the basement before they can even think of getting backup.

Loki is a pragmatic woman – it wouldn't be the first time she's saved her own neck at the price of someone else's – but her time with 21st century humans has changed her into something more moral, and she knew if Hugo died it would nag at Sookie's conscious for the rest of the telepath's life.

So she swipes up the plastic tray from breakfast and slams it down on the back of Gabe's head with all her strength, and he howls as the acrylic splinters.

Hugo's safe, for now. But Loki has a pissed off meat-head three times her size coming directly towards her.

She punches him mercilessly in the throat and rockets a foot up to hit him straight between the legs. Taken off guard, Gabe hunches over, and Loki takes the opportunity to knee him in the face. His nose makes a satisfying crack as it breaks, but he recovers fast, and she barely manages to duck out of the way of a swinging punch that would have broken her jaw.

The little wire cage would be far too small a space for fighting even if Sookie and Hugo weren't around. Loki is fast and agile, but all it takes is a split second miscalculation of the space at her back for Gabe to charge her and pin her to a wall. Loki flails wildly, because Gabe's biggest advantage is physical strength and he has her trapped. It is definitely not good, but he mercilessly slams her further into the concrete before she can slip from the hold. Her already injured skull connects with the wall hard, and Loki see's stars but snarls – it's the noise of a cornered animal.

'You think you can make an asshole out of me?' Gabe roars, teeth bared and right in her face. 'That's what you think, huh?'

'I'm pretty sure you were born an asshole.' She sneers straight back at him and unflinchingly spits in his face.

"You're mouth will be the death of you"Thor has told her all her life – unfortunately, he may have had a point.

Gabe slams her head back, pinning it steady with a meaty hand clamped around her throat, face purple with rage and blood streaming from his nose as he screams obscenities in her face. Sookie is beating at his back with tiny, useless fists, and Gabe swats her away with a vicious backhand that sends the telepath reeling to the floor.

Loki's hackles rise at the sight, but then Gabe turns his attention back to her and starts tugging roughly at the fabric of her skirt, and she's filled with a new horror as he yanks his belt loose with a cackle. She's been beaten, and stabbed, and burned, and tortured, and poisoned... but Loki had never been raped before, and she damn well plans for it to stay that way, so her struggles renew with fresh urgency.

It's almost heart-breakingly futile, though, and Gabe seems to barely feel all the kicks and punches. If she had her magic this would not be happening, and fuck, he's laughing in her face -

('What's wrong? Your own kind not good enough for you?')

- and Loki gets an arm free, ripping his nails mercilessly across his face before he grabs the limb and holds it to the wall, and then his hand is on her bare thigh and no-one touches her without permission, and she'd rip him apart if she wasn't temporarily mortal, and Loki keens because if he touches her she'll burn the church to the ground...

...and suddenly, his weight disappears off of her, and she stares ahead with utter shock, panting.

Because Gabe is being held off the ground by the throat by a boy who looks all-of seventeen, and the man-child gives him a disdainful once over before snapping his neck with little more than the flick of his wrist and an echoing snap.

'Godric...' The black-haired woman chokes out, joy and disbelief and utter relief warring for dominance in her clouded mind, and the two-millennium old vampire turns to regard the woman he has saved. His mouth falls open in surprise.

'Loki,' he breathes her name like a prayer – a secret – and takes a hesitant step forward, 'it can't be you.'

'Godric.' She repeats, not confirming or denying her identity as she stares into tawny eyes she would know anywhere. It's certainly not the reunion she'd imagined.

Then Loki pitches forward, legs giving out on her. Mortals, she muses distantly, have so little tolerance for injury. She's caught in cool arms a seconds before she slams into the ground, and from the safe cradle of Godric's arms, she peers up at him.

'I need...' Loki falters, coughing past the soreness of her throat. 'I need to get out of the Church.'

The vampire studies her face and nods, but his eyes shoot upwards sharply at the sounds of fast movement and screams. Somewhere to Loki's left, Sookie perks up at the sounds.

'Bill!'

'No.' Godric denies mildly, closing his eyes. 'I'm here, my childe. Down here.'

And then Eric is at the foot of the stairs, faltering minutely at the sight that greets him. Loki can't blame him for his pause – it must make for a strange sight. Hugo unconscious in the corner, Sookie standing half-leant against a wall, Gabe, neck twisted obscenely and spread eagle, and Loki herself; bruised, half-awake and her skirt bunched at her waist but held securely in Godric's arms.

But even so, once the Viking lays eyes on his maker the rest of the world fades away. Gone is the stoic, merciless vampire Sheriff; what's left is something raw and completely without pretence. Loki is transfixed by the swell of love in Eric's eyes – so blue they put nature to shame – and stares unabashedly as he drops to one knee before the shorter vampire.

'Godric.'

'You were a fool for sending humans after me.' Eric flinches at the reprimand despite Godric's perfectly neutral tone.

'I had no other choice. These savages they… they seek to destroy you.'

'I'm aware of what they've planned.' The admission sends a dark pang through Loki's heart – because if he knew, why did he do nothing? – but the older vampire looks meaningfully at Hugo. 'This one betrayed you.'

Sookie stutters an agreement, but is ignored.

'How long has it been since you've fed?'

'I require very little blood anymore.' Godric dismisses, shifting his hold on Loki slightly – Eric's intense gaze flickers to her at the movement, and he seems to blink out of a daze at the reminder that he and his maker are not alone.

'You're injured.'

She gives a little smile at the redundancy of the statement, but nods – her head spins at the motion. 'Just a little.'

It may be her concussion speaking, but some of the tension in Eric's frame seems to dissipate. Loki doesn't have time to puzzle over it before a wailing alarms starts blaring throughout the Church.

'Save the human.' Godric commands, nodding at Sookie.

The Viking steps forward. 'I'm not leaving your side until you are…'

'I can take care of myself.'

It would be funny, from an outsider's perspective, to see the towering blonde yielding to the comparatively tiny man-child's wishes. She giggles aloud at the thought, and both vampires turn to regard her in eerie unison.

'S-sorry,' she splutters, 'gotta head wound – it's making me loopy.'

Eric smirks, and there's a bit of the familiar, unflappable Viking Loki knows when he replies. 'Clearly, Victoria.'

'Go, childe,' Godric insists, 'I will see to this one.'

Eric holds his maker's eyes for a long moment, before grabbing Sookie by the arm and towing her along behind him.

'We should go,' she voices once Eric has ushered Sookie up the staircase, voice regaining strength slowly, 'because this could get messy.'

'Indeed.' Godric acknowledges, and takes off like a lightning bolt.

xXx

'Brothers and sisters, we are on lockdown. Women with children, please take them to our classroom buildings. Men, and able-bodied women, security personnel will provide you with stakes and silver...'

Eric growls lowly as the insipid voice of Steve Newlin rings out from the intercoms of the church, disrupting his keen senses. He'd been loath to leave his maker behind, and even now every instinct is screaming for him to go to him, protect him and the bruised, beaten woman he'd been cradling. But Godric had told him to get out, and he plans to – it's just going to be harder than expected if every human in the church is on the lookout for him.

Sookie Stackhouse, being pulled behind him, is otherwise preoccupied.

'Eric,' she murmurs, glancing back towards the entryway to the basement nervously, 'will Vick be okay?'

Ah. Victoria Storm.

The woman is an enigma wrapped in a mystery and cased in delicious packaging, and Eric will admit – if only to himself – that he finds it simultaneously irritating and intriguing. From the moment she'd stepped foot in Fangtasia with Compton and his human, the fine hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. At first, he'd ignored the feeling, seeing little more than a pretty face and a toned body, but the moment she'd attempted to warn Sookie of the raid he'd looked harder.

What he'd found was contradictory.

Victoria acted almost completely unafraid around vampires, and though she played it off as having been around them in New York, a few discreet inquiries into the nest in Manhattan had reported that she had never gotten particularly close to anyone un-dead. She moved loudly, steps hard and easy to pick up by vampire ears, but when Longshadow had attacked her friend her movements became all but silent, her stance that of a fighter. Then that same night she'd proved resistant to glamour – which she'd hardly needed, as Victoria showed absolutely no great shock at the violence of seeing a vampire staked or any inclination to run about telling the world what had happened. These things could have just meant she possessed a great deal of courage (or stupidity, depending how you looked at it), a particularly strong will and some self-defence training.

But then she'd marched into his office and demanded her friend back with a dangerous light in her green eyes, and any inclination Eric had to write her off as human had flown out the window.

Clearly, Victoria Storm plays human very well – when it suits her. And she had seemed to sense that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, too, because she'd stopped even pretending to be average the moment her V-dealing friend had proved to be at risk. Suddenly, Vick the waitress evolved into sarcastic, stubborn, sensual Victoria.

And this new, not-human woman who goes toe-to-toe with him unflinchingly, who protects those she sees as "hers" with all the quiet ferocity of a cobra tensed to strike, whose oath bound him in a promise in return for his maker? She is interesting.

Maybe that was why seeing her beaten and bleeding in the basement of the Fellowship of the Sun had unsettled him so greatly.

'Godric will take care of her.' Eric informs the telepath curtly, and Sookie relaxes minutely.

'Right. Good. Godric saved her before – he'll keep her safe.'

The Viking vampire merely grunts in reply, focused solely on navigating his way to an exit. Sookie, however, clearly doesn't notice his concentration.

'It was weird, though. When he came in and looked at Vick, it was almost like...'

Now only around the corner from the main doors of the church, Eric risks a glance back when she trails off, brow furrowed in thought. 'Like what?'

Sookie licks her lips a little nervously at his penetrating gaze, but cranes her neck back to meet his eyes just the same. 'Like he recognised her.'

xXx

The second Godric sets foot outside of the Fellowship Church, Loki gasps in ecstasy.

Unlike going in, which leeched at her power with agonizing slowness, coming back into her own is like an orgasm – sudden and overwhelming and beautiful. Her magic rushes back, filling ever bit of her, and it's worried voice tells her we missed you, we worried, we need you in it's strange, non-verbal way. Loki's eyes un-focus and her back arches as she morphs briefly into her Æsir form and just as quickly back to human. Godric's grip tightens at the undoubtedly familiar sight of her true skin, but she is so relived to be free of skull fractures she hardly notices.

And as suddenly as it comes, it is gone, and Loki feels whole and considerably better with her injuries all repaired. In a small patch of woods fifty meters from the church she wiggles out of the vampire's hold and settles to standing, testing her renewed muscles and double-checking that all her old barriers are firmly back in place.

'It really is you, then.' Godric comments and she turns to regard her vampiric saviour.

Loki can't help but smile at her once-lover, but she's unsure on what to do with him – the last time she saw him, their customary greeting had been a half-affectionate kiss that more often than not led to clothes being shed. A lot has changed since then, and Loki isn't sure of the protocol for greeting someone after a one-thousand, five-hundred years absence.

So she brings up a hand to run the pads of her fingers softly over his cheekbone, marvelling at the life-magic that rises from the contact, light-blue as the hottest flame where it was once the colour of midnight. Godric almost unconsciously leans into the touch, cool skin leeching at the warmth of her hand.

'It's been a long time, Godric,' she murmurs, smiling fondly, 'and you're so different.'

'You have changed.' His hand comes up to cover hers absently, and his eyes soften. 'But I haven't aged a day.'

'That's not what I meant,' Loki chides, looking down into his face intently – they used to be exactly the same height, she remembers, 'you're calmer, more peaceful... and sad.'

The vampire stills completely, mask of nonchalance firmly in place. 'Sad?'

She doesn't elaborate, but he seems to understand what she means anyway. The thick cloud of depression hangs off of Godric like a physical weight – it's heart-wrenching to see.

'Why are you here?' He asks, breaking the heavy silence.

'I came to Dallas to pay a debt,' Loki explains, 'and when I discovered it was you that was missing... how could I resist?'

Her old friend studies her face, searching it for any hint of ulterior motive in her actions. Clearly he finds none, because his lips twitch upwards into a little smile that is gone before she can really register it.

'Why are you so... human?' He questions, and Loki can't help but smirk.

'I don't know if you remember, Godric, but we Æsir look rather dramatically different to the trained eye,' she shifts her hand off his face, and the appendage feels cold compared to the rest of her, 'and I am a shape shifter – I go by Victoria Storm these days. Or, at least, that's how your childe knows me.'

'Ah, Eric,' he breathes, 'I am surprised you have met.' She rolls her eyes.

'Yes, well, imagine my reaction when I learned the Viking pain-in-my-ass was your progeny. Although...' Her eyes sparkle. '...I can't fault your taste.'

'You wouldn't.' Godric shoots back, and Loki laughs outright. Evidently, if nothing else, he remembers her soft spot for tall, blonde and mysterious. He opens his mouth, no doubt to ask more questions, but his head snaps in the direction of the Church before he can. Loki guesses he must have heard something important, because in less than a second he has scooped her up and deposited her outside the conspicuously un-guarded main doors.

'Stay here.' Is his command, but she snatches his hand before he can dive headfirst into danger.

'Wait.' He blinks back at her, and Loki proffers her wrist. 'Do you need blood?'

Godric's brows furrow as he stares at the pulsing blue veins, then up at her face. 'I am not the same vampire you once knew, Loki,' he informs her in a solemn half-whisper, 'you should not offer such a gift when you no longer know me.'

'I may not know you inside and out as I once did, old friend,' she informs him, tone firm, 'but I still see you clearly. If anything, the ages have made you better; as I would offer then, I offer now.'

Godric's face is unreadable as he replies. 'Better? That's debatable.' And then he is gone into the church.

Loki scowls after him without real heat. Maybe he hasn't changed completely, if he still favours such dramatic exits.


(1) The internet suggests that Godric was actually born in Gaul – an area encompassing most of Western Europe – but was forced into slavery under the Romans. The latter part is kind of my head canon, but I've always seen him as a being from Northern Britain - specifically a Pict – mainly because he is so tattooed. Julius Caesar recorded the Pict people as tattooed in woad. The first time I saw the actor who plays Godric I immediately thought of the Antoine Fuqua movie King Arthur.