She ended up in the seedy bar with a stranger, a small man with a world of weariness and pain in his eyes, and the gloom and cigar smoke surrounding them, because she was lost. She expected this would happen, sooner or later. Loki would go somewhere she could not follow. Because she was not as powerful as he was, or as driven, or as mad. Because he would tire of her, or forget her, or just find her boring. This was not a surprise.
She still was unprepared.
It takes a lot for an Aesir to drink themselves into oblivion but that was what she was attempting to do. Logan, her sage-like company for the evening, seemed to be set on a similar course, with the same obstacle of needing more alcohol than the bar could provide to reach that goal. Idle words filled the silence between them, grasping at the contact, staving off the loneliness for just a little while longer. Just one more drink. Logan seemed content to answer all of her questions. She could always come up with more questions. And every once in a while, he would offer a question of his own.
"So, is everyone a God o' somethin' in Asgard? I ain't really very.. informed on that whole business. "
She tossed back her drink and considered her words before answering. It was a complicated answer. "Technically, yes. Though it is impolite to discuss. There are some who are gods of impressive things, like thunder or fertility. And there are some who are gods of unimpressive things. Like biscuits. Or hairdos. Why cause embarrassment or pride over something beyond one's control? It is one's actions that are important.
"Also, it is frustrating when everybody knows what you're the deity of and makes assumptions accordingly. 'Oh, there's Radrag. He is frowning because he is the god of unexpected delays and so he was late again.' But perhaps Radrag is frowning because his child is sick or he lost a bet.
"It is a messy thing, an artifact of an older time. A curiosity shared with those closest to you and nothing more."
Logan nods and orders another drink.
And what she didn't say, because this man was a stranger and not the one closest to her, is that she always knew. The pull in her heart would bind herself to the person she chose irrevocably. And from the moment Loki first smiled at her, and her heart skipped a beat, and that feeling tugged her toward him, she knew what lay in store.
So she spurned him, denied him, resisted him. She had to. It was madness. He was so taken with her and she was so afraid. His exploits were infamous, his conquests numerous, and his demons abounded. And if she gave in, she would be bound to him long after he had moved on.
As his image flickered on the television, footage from his rampage across this realm, and the attempt to recover afterward, she felt that same tug on her heart. And remembered that night, when he stood in her bedchamber, pale and perspiring and apologetic, and told her she did not have to, that he did not expect anything. And in that moment she had made a choice.
The first step toward him sealed her fate. The rest followed easily.
She puffed her cigar as the news moved on to the sports report, to her great relief. "Have you ever been married, friend Logan? Or in love?"
Logan ran his hand through his hair and ordered another drink before answering. "Yeah. Married a couple of times. In love a few more. Mostly it ends with someone dyin', and since I'm still here, well." He paused, and drank, and collected himself. "Yourself?"
She smiled sadly, glad to have met somebody who knew what she felt, and feeling shame at that happiness. "I was in love once, married once. And I am still here. If you have any wisdom to impart on this topic… I would be glad to hear it."