Author's note:A big thank-you to all those who have offered suggestions for the sequel. You guys are awesome. :D And just to lay any fears to rest, there is still more of this story to come. I'm just thinking ahead. At the very least, there's two more chapters after this one. Depending on whether or not I manage to wrap things up to my satisfaction by then, there may be a third. Then, hopefully, a new adventure. :)

That said, I hope this chapter doesn't ramble as much as I fear it does (or as much as I have in this author's note!).

Disclaimer: Loki is, sadly, not mine. This incarnation of him sort of is, but also owes a lot to interviews I've seen with Tom Hiddleston talking about his thoughts on the depth of the character.


The afternoon had passed alternating between lovemaking and talking. Well, mostly Loki had been the one talking, relating to Grainne the things he now remembered. And, to his surprise, he'd been brutally honest about it all. He'd told her a bit about his childhood and his family. He'd told her about his discovery of his true origins. He'd told her about his attempt to seize the throne of Asgard from Thor, and his attempt to finally make Odin see his worth by killing the king of the Frost Giants despite knowing his true parentage. He'd told her about his final despair and his willingness to just let it all go, both figuratively and literally as he let himself drop into the void. He'd told her about his rescue and the deal he had struck and the war he'd brought to this world, filling in the bits she hadn't already learned from the mortal news services.

At some point they'd ended up on the floor between the two beds, although he couldn't quite remember when or how. Grainne sat straddling his lap with a thoughtful look on her face. Finally she said, "So if I understand the naming convention correctly... Loki... Laufeyson?"

He made a face. "It's not exactly something I'm proud of," he muttered. "Being a monster."

"You're not a monster, Loki," she replied softly. "Yes, you've done some things that were pretty monstrous - I saw footage of the mess your friends made of Manhattan." He had the grace to drop his gaze at that. It had all made perfect sense to him at the time, but now he found himself questioning the wisdom of it. And it was, after all, her world he'd been trying to conquer... She raised his chin so that he was looking at her again and shook her head. "But there's a significant difference between that and being a monster. It's a matter of choice. Do you know what I mean?"

Nodding thoughtfully, he said, "I think I do, and I'm also aware that it's probably more kindness than I deserve from any of this realm's inhabitants." She smiled and shrugged. "It doesn't bring me any closer to figuring out that part of who I am, though. In Asgard a great stock is placed in who your father is."

"Loki Odinson, then," she countered. "Has such a martial culture as Asgard's no concept of adoption? What usually happens to orphans? Is your true father the one who... well... fathered you or the one who raised you and taught you? Only one of them had any real bearing on the man you became, and here's a hint: it wasn't the Frost Giant."

Loki frowned, but made himself consider the question. "I don't know," he said at last. "When I discovered what I was, I was hurt. Betrayed. But my immediate reaction was to try and prove to Odin that I was worthy of him. Of being his son. It was only when that failed, when even that wasn't enough..." He shook his head.

"You felt you had to reject him to keep from being hurt again?" she asked softly. He said nothing, but rested his forehead on her shoulder and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Ah, Loki. It's a hard road you've chosen."

"I'm not sure what I think now, though," he admitted. "Having spent so much time with you and Greg... It makes me wonder if I need to expand my definition of family. But still, there's a lifetime of lies there. How do you move past that?" He lifted his head now to look at her, desperately hoping for an answer. For all the frustrations of his memory loss, at least it hadn't caused him this much pain, he reflected with a touch of bitterness.

Grainne chewed on her lower lip as she thought about this, which made him want to kiss her again. So he did. She kissed him back with a smile, then drew his head forward to press another soft kiss on his brow. "There isn't an easy answer to that, I'm afraid. I guess... it's a matter of balance. Of looking at your two options and their consequences, and deciding which one means more to you. It's like... do you remember that day on the ferry, when I told you about my Dad?"

He nodded. "Yes." It had been one of the few days he'd remembered anything remotely useful, he recalled. It had also been something of a turning point in their relationship, the closest they had come to openly acknowledging their feelings for each other until today. His lips curved in a smile at the thought.

Apparently recognising where his thoughts had gone, Grainne blushed. It amused him that they could sit there, both naked and in about as intimate a position as it was possible to be, and he could still make her blush. He rather liked it, now that he thought about it. Laughing at his widening grin, she shook her head. "Not that bit. I mean the bit where I explained the rather troubled relationship he and I had."

He nodded again, sobering.

"Well, that was a similar sort of choice for me. When I realised just how much he was making my life hell, I knew it could go two ways: either I could walk away and just accept that he would never be a part of my life again, or I could find a way to deal with it and keep some sort of bond between us, no matter how fraught. I chose the latter, even though it was a very hard and painful way to go."

"Why?" His brow furrowed as he considered this. "It's obvious he never appreciated you."

"True, but he was my father. There were good memories, particularly in the early years. He used to let me help him in his workshop when he was building things; he used to take me to the park, and the zoo, and the movies; we used to spend afternoons playing board games or computer games and having a lot of fun. I thought about just walking away from all that history, all that love, and I couldn't do it. No matter how hard it was to stay, I knew I couldn't live with myself if I left. Even if he never appreciated it."

A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye, and Loki gently wiped it away with his thumb. "So how did you live with staying?" he asked softly.

Grainne gave him a sad smile. "I learned to set boundaries. I learned to stand up for myself when I thought he was being an arse. I learned to call his bluff when he'd make grand melodramatic statements designed to make me 'prove' to him that I loved him according to his narrow definition of the word." She wrinkled her nose. "We still fought, and he still tried to pick a lot more fights than I was willing to give him, but by choosing to ignore it at least we got to spend some time together without fighting. It was a start."

He gathered her tightly against him. "You speak about him in past tense, I notice, but you've never suggested there was a final break in your relationship. Is he...?" She nodded against his shoulder and sighed. They sat quietly for a while, each busy with their own thoughts. Loki considered her words in the light of his own experiences. He had tried walking away from the family he'd grown up with and severing those ties completely. It had led him into darkness and despair, and from there onto a path of wholesale destruction. He hadn't even cared much what got destroyed. And what had it brought him? Nothing but defeat and the memory of Odin's one eye looking at him once again with disappointment.

Yet what was the alternative? To return to them and pretend that none of it had ever happened? That he forgave the lies and the hurt? He thought of the angry words he had flung at Thor and shuddered. Even if he wanted to go back, would they have him?

Raising her head, Grainne pressed a kiss against the curve of his jaw. "It's not something you have to unravel right this moment, you know," she whispered. "You've only just come back to yourself. Let it settle, and see how you feel about it once you've had a chance to get used to being you again."

He smiled down at her. "Whatever I decide, I'm not giving you up," he told her seriously. "You're mine now."

"Always." She flashed him a brilliant smile before their lips met in a deep kiss. He felt the need for her rising once more and, with a soft growl, rolled them both over. At some point, he thought distractedly, they really ought to make it back onto the bed. Then he felt her nails score lines down his back and stopped thinking altogether.