"Don't Father!" Freya cried, throwing herself forward against the chains held tight by her Asgardian captors. "I'd gladly die a thousand times if it meant Vanaheim would be free!"

"No!" Njord screamed, his eyes widening in horror as one of the guards handed Odin a torch. "Valfreya!"

Freya awoke in a cold sweat, my heart fighting to be free of the confines of my ribs. She could still see her father's head being cut from his shoulders, the blood that poured from his neck.

She clambered out of bed, trying to calm herself. She could feel the trembling taking over, the vice begin to tighten around her chest. Soon panic would leave her fighting for breath, she knew. She crossed unsteadily to the glass doors which led to the balcony and threw them open, thinking that perhaps some fresh air would do her good.

The night was warm and tranquil, the stars casting soft light down on the golden city. Still, it did nothing to quell her racing heart. Freya turned to go back inside and resign herself to the flashbacks, but paused when she noticed the gentle flickering of candle light glowing from Loki's room.

She acted without thinking. Freya clambered up onto the railing of her balcony, arms wide for balance. The marble was cold under her bare feet and her nightgown rippled in the breeze. She took a deep breath and then leapt across the nothingness that separated their balconies.

Freya landed, light footed on the other side, her heart hammering all the more. She wondered if perhaps this was a foolish idea, if she should go back and pretend that she had never leapt across seeking Loki's company. But she simply couldn't be alone at this moment. She could feel her terror rising each second she hesitated.

So instead she stepped closer to the glass door and placed her hand on the doorknob. She paused when she looked inside.

Loki was stretched out on a long emerald couch that lay near his bed, utterly absorbed in a thick, black-bound volume. He wore simple, elegant clothes—they must have been reserved for his casual use as she had never seen him in anything less than princely attire. His face was open, unmasked, she realized. Freya watched him as he read in complete tranquility, unaware that her heart had slowed slightly.

Finally Loki looked up. Surprise flashed across his face as he caught sight of Freya outside his doors. She jumped, realizing that she had lost track of how long she had been standing there. Loki crossed to the doors, his finger marking the place he had left off in his book. He threw them open, still looking puzzled.

"What is it Freya?"

She hesitated, a deep flush creeping into her cheeks. "I—I had a nightmare and I saw that your light was on and…" she trailed, off, realizing how stupid and childish she sounded. Freya turned, murmuring apologies, but Loki's hand shot out and caught her shoulder.

"Don't," he said softly. Freya stared at him, swallowing hard. "There's nothing to be ashamed of."

She stood frozen, staring up at him. He moved forward wordlessly and took her hand. Freya's fingers curled around his without her volition.

Loki pulled her gently inside as she clutched his hand. She was shaking, the color still not completely faded from her cheeks. He wondered what sort of horror her nightmares kept in store for her.

Her green eyes shone with tears that she was no doubt holding back. She looked so frightened, almost small. He led her to the couch where he had been lying and sat back down. She sat next to him timidly, still clutching his hand as though it were a life preserver.

"I am going to need that to turn the pages," Loki said lightly. Freya jumped slightly and quickly released his hand, the color creeping back into her cheeks. He smiled slightly. The admittance of fear seemed to leave her utterly mortified. He knew that he shouldn't, but Loki found it rather endearing.

He put his arm around Freya and reopened his book. She trembled underneath his arm, every muscle pulled taught, her shoulders set rigidly solid in her fear.

Loki tightened his grip, more out of protective instinct than in order to grasp the book more comfortably. He glanced sidelong at Freya, watching the rapid pace at which her chest rose and fell. He felt a sense of worry begin to grow.

Loki looked away, back at the book in his hands. Freya didn't seem to want to talk about whatever terrors had woken her from her sleep and he thought it to be cruel to ask her. So he merely began reading out loud, hoping that perhaps she would find comfort in the words as he had.

As he read he felt Freya slowly stop trembling and her muscles begin to relax. After a while she nestled her head against his chest, letting her body press into mine as he read. Loki could smell the sweet scent of lily on her silvery hair and found himself inhaling the scent deeply.

After some time passed he realized that she had fallen asleep curled against him. Her face looked so peaceful. He smiled and closed hi book gently and set it aside. He carefully picked her up and carried her to the bed, wary not to wake her. He tucked her underneath the blankets, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest as he stared at her.

He pulled several folded blankets from the end of the bed with the intention of quietly creeping over to the sofa to sleep, but as he stepped away she began to murmur in her sleep. Loki turned back to her. Freya's face was scrunched, troubled, her brows pulled together.

"Blood," she whispered. He crept closer, listening. "It begins in blood, the blood of the orphan's Odin has made."

Loki felt himself freeze. This didn't seem to be an ordinary nightmare. It seemed more likely to be another of her visions. "Do the crowns wear the kings, or the kings the crowns?"

"Where will the winter-skinned man go, when he learns that he has not been born of Gold? When his reflection is foreign to the eyes he's kept all his life? Will he be a monster then? Or hold the makings of a king?"

Loki was completely frozen, his mind racing at an extraordinary pace. It was like a riddle to be solved. Perhaps that was what she meant, when she said that her visions weren't open and shut—easily read and deciphered.

Freya cried out, her face distraught. She thrashed in her sleep, fighting off some invisible demon. "Where have you been…? Not even Heimdal could see you, with all his gifts. I searched for you, slipped between worlds as you had shown me, yet you were nowhere."

Loki reached out and began stroking her hair, trying to sooth her. She quieted after a few moments, though her face still remained troubled. He stepped away to finally settle himself on the couch, but Freya reached out, her hand closing around his wrist.

He turned. She was still asleep or at least he supposed she was. "Please—" she begged in the same far off voice. "Don't leave me again."

Loki sat next to her on the bed and pulled the blankets around himself. She calmed after a few moments, her face relaxing once more. By the time that he drifted off she was curled up next to him, lost in dreamless sleep.