CHAPTER FIVE

It was near dusk, and the Asgardians had gathered in the Great Hall for a feast in honor of Thor and Jane's return. The entire congregation was decked out in their finery: metallic armor, vivid capes and cloaks, silken, satin dresses in a rainbow of colors, glittering jewel earrings and necklaces…salad.

Volstagg whipped his head back and forth, bewildered, as Thor, Fandral, and Hogun broke down into poorly-disguised laughter. Even Jane giggled, although she tried to suppress it by clapping a hand to her mouth.

"What?" Volstagg said. A sprout of arugula began to weave aggressively through his beard, sprouting little flowers and making tiny braids as it went. He glanced between the others at the table, oblivious to the redecoration his facial hair was receiving. "Did I say something?"

Thor snorted abruptly. All at once, the charade of pretending not to laugh was abandoned, and the others joined him in hysterical laughter—all except for Darcy and Loki. The former was completely stoic, her expression smooth enough to rival a master poker player. Loki seemed to be debating whether to play along and perhaps mess with Volstagg's head or to reprimand himself for not thinking of such a joke sooner.

"Should I tell him?" Darcy whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her fingers twitching slightly under the table. The arugula was joined by a tendril of alfalfa; the two plants began to do battle over which would dominate Volstagg's beard as the primary decoration.

Loki watched the two leaves duel over several strands for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement over the oblivious confusion written all over Volstagg's face. "Nah," he said quietly. And then his eyes widened.

He did a double take, glancing between Darcy's stiff, shaking fingers making puppeteering motions under the table and the salad that had turned the lower half of Volstagg's face into a web of greenery.

"Darcy," he hissed. "Stop."

"Why?" she replied, grinning crookedly. "I'm not done. I was going to see if I could get a couple of forks to make a little crown to go on top of his head."

Loki's stomach knotted as Darcy's eyelid flickered randomly.

"Darcy," he muttered warningly.

"You're right," she conceded, lowering her hand. Loki breathed a sigh of relief. "It would be much more fun to make the forks into spiders and make them crawl into Freya's dress."

"No, no, no…" Loki's arm leaped out to grab Darcy by the wrist, but he was off by a fraction of an inch.

Smiling like a little kid in a candy shop, she held both hands out loosely under the table and arranged her fingers into spidery figures. All at once, she stopped smiling. Her eyes went wide with panic and turned to look at Loki. He winced; her expression was one of pure terror, the face of a warrior wounded, scrambling to process what was happening to her. Her spine gave out.

Loki managed to catch her this time, his hands guiding her by the shoulders into his lap before she could land on the table and shatter any goblets, or stab herself on any of the cutlery. Jane's head whipped around. She met Loki's eyes questioningly. He grimaced. Jane's expression turned dark as she understood.

Fandral continued to laugh loudly as the rest of the table fell silent. After a few seconds of laughing on his own, he chuckled awkwardly. Loki and Sif shot matching death glares at him. His smile faded. "She, uh," he said slowly, beginning to understand, "she's not passed out drunk? Is she?" Loki narrowed his eyes in a 'what do you think' expression. Fandral ohed softly. Sif clucked her tongue and smacked the back of his head lightly. He flinched.

Loki glowered at him for a moment longer before returning his attention to Darcy, gritting his teeth as he watched for some sign of life. He sighed with relief. She was still breathing.

He felt a large hand on his shoulder as someone looked over it to see Darcy. "Is she alright?" Thor asked.

"Alright?" Loki scoffed. "No. Insane? Apparently suicidal? Yes."

"Will she live?"

Loki softened slightly at the look of concern furrowing Jane's brow. He sighed. "Yes, Jane, she will live. I'm sure she'll be running around making trouble within the hour. She just did too much magic at once." He scooped Darcy up in his arms for the second time in less than a day. "Continue your merriment," he said, glancing along the table to the other lords and ladies, who were craning their heads to see the commotion. "This is a minor accident. Not worth causing a panic over."

Adjusting Darcy so he could carry her without making a spectacle, he left the room.

Uhhhhhhnnnn….

Darcy made a mental note that messing with the Warriors Three was not worth this much pain. It felt like she had a hangover…a twenty-first birthday hangover. She noticed that she was moving forward and being jostled slightly. She opened her eyes. Déjà vu.

"Is this going to be a regular thing: you carrying me to your room?"

Darcy expected him to crack a smile, or look down at her all adorably startled by the fact that she was awake. To her surprise, he continued walking at an even pace, his eyes fixed on something further down the hall.

"Maybe I wouldn't have to carry you so often if you didn't keep passing out," he said coldly.

She squinted at him. "What's the matter with you?" He didn't reply. Darcy rolled her eyes. "Anyway, I'm not complaining," she said defensively. "It's kind of nice. Plus, it's, like, the only time you ever hold me."

Loki stopped with a jerk, his fingers tightening around Darcy's shoulders and knees. Without warning, she found her feet being placed firmly back on the ground. She frowned: Loki was behaving very strangely. His eyes were cold and distant, and every movement from his posture to his facial expressions seemed very forced and controlled.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but that sounds an awful lot like a complaint to me," he said in something bordering on a growl.

Darcy chafed silently. What the hell? Why is he being such a bastard? "Maybe it is," she said, raising her voice defiantly. Loki seemed to be staring at some point on her shoulder, determined not to meet her eyes. She deflated for a moment. "Loki, what's going on? You're being really weird."

"Weird?" he repeated. "Funny choice of words, coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Loki laughed hollowly, his eyes rising to the ceiling without stopping to meet her confused gaze. "'What's that supposed to mean,' she asks," he said scathingly. At last, he looked her in the eye. Darcy was taken aback. Something was wrong with him, something in his eyes. He looked…he looked like he had when she first met him, when he was hateful and angry at the whole world, at Thor. "What do you think it's supposed to mean?" he hissed. "Is it really so hard to understand? I was commenting on the irony of being called 'weird' by a woman who seems to have her heart set on causing me as much distress as humanly possible by perpetually showing off in some misguided attempt to—to, I don't know, impress me, or something—and by constantly throwing herself at me."

Darcy gaped at him, fighting the impulse to burst into tears or throw her arms around him and try to soothe whatever wound was plaguing him. She curled her hands into fists. She felt the strength of fury in her veins, pushing away the hurt. "Maybe I wouldn't throw myself at you all the time if you would just pretend that you wanted me as much as I want you," she stammered, her voice growing stronger with every syllable, "as if you actually had some intention of sleeping with me at some point."

The moment she finished speaking, Darcy realized that she had crossed a line. She felt her cheeks turn scarlet, and then cold and pale. She couldn't apologize; she was paralyzed by the intensity of Loki's stare.

"Do you really think that this is about want?" he said quietly. Darcy opened and closed her mouth wordlessly. Loki smiled without humor and began to inch towards her. She backed away slowly until her heel touched the wall. "This has nothing to do with want," he hissed, his cold smile vanishing in the blink of an eye. "This is about your safety. This is about the fact that I am a god and you are a mortal. Do you realize how easily I could hurt you?" He inched closer so that she could feel his breath against her face. "Do you realize how little effort it would take me to kill you, right here, right now? I wouldn't even have to try. I could kill you, instantly," he said, his voice shaking, "without even meaning to hurt you. If I held you too hard, if I pushed you against this wall in the heat of a moment, I could shatter every bone in your body. If I kissed you too long, I could forget that you don't have to breathe and suffocate you. If I curled my fingers into your arms, I could lose control of my magic and you would be dead before you could even look me in the eye."

Darcy's eyes darted around frantically, searching his face for some hint of softness, some clue as to what was going through his mind besides hate. All she could see was hatred, intensity that blurred the line between fury and chaos in a blazing inferno.

Loki smiled sarcastically. "But no," he said, his voice cracking and changing from his smooth, low murmur to a raw, hoarse tenor. "You just had to go ahead without a moment's thought for your own safety," he said in a mad imitation of gaiety. "What do you care that our lives are bound together forever beyond the point of inseparability? You just want to do your little magic tricks, and maybe make love to the stupid trickster inexplicably wrapped around your little finger." His expression darkened again. "I see now that I am nothing more than a dalliance to you."

"Loki, I'm sorry. I didn't think—" Darcy stammered, trying to hold back her tears, "the risk, I didn't realize—"

"Of course you didn't realize," he yelled. Darcy stared at him. She couldn't understand what was happening. What happened to him? She felt like someone was punching her in the ribcage. "How could you? You're just a silly, stupid, mortal girl!"

All at once, something in Loki's mind snapped into place. He gasped for air. It was as though he had just been awoken by a slap in the face. He remembered Darcy's eyes, wide and blue and brimming with tears. His heart sank. Oh no…Oh, what have I done? He blinked rapidly, trying to regain his composure. He felt his own eyes burning furiously as he struggled to meet Darcy's gaze, embarrassed to look her in the eye. He stepped away from the wall in shame, removing his arms from their cage-like hold around Darcy. He closed his eyes.

When Darcy broke the silence, her voice seemed to come from him down a long tunnel. "So that's what you think of me," she said coolly.

Loki looked up at her with wide-frantic eyes, trying to plead silently for her forgiveness. He found himself unable to form the words that filled his mind like an ache. Darcy…please…I didn't mean it…I don't know what came over me…Please, please, I'm so sorry...What have I done….what have I done…

"Maybe I'm not the one who's dallying," she said scathingly.

And before he could protest, she stormed off.