Chapter Two

A Lack of Moral Code

If there was one negative aspect of her personality that Alex was quite happy to own up to, it was her inability to keep hold of resolutions. As each New Year dawned, she would find herself penning dozens of them, each perfectly reasonable. Yet, within a handful of days most of would be forgotten, dismissed, discarded. As the cruel rays of an Asgardian sunrise filtered through the burnt orange silk of her curtains, Alex found herself once more developing doomed resolutions.

Namely one resolution.

I will not be compromised... again.

It was an easy enough decision to make, bathed in the safe golden glow of the morning sun. This same light cast an unwanted spotlight upon the devastation wrought to her chambers. Somewhere between the wall and desk, Loki had knocked over her neatly stacked pile of books. Asgardian tomes now mingled with Midgardian, sprawled upon the tiles like fallen dominos. One of the rich curtains had been torn from its hangings (how did that happen?), fortunately providing a squashy landing spot for her laptop, which had been swept from the desk surface. Pens, quills and ink pots littered the floors, some shattered, leaving dark stains upon the tiles.

Loki seemed proficient at destruction. He had left central New York a decimated waste land. Jotunheim was all but destroyed in his wrath. Really, in the scheme of things, the ruination of her personal chambers was nothing. But still, she could not help but think of it as a metaphor for the damage he was able to inflict upon her.

She would not be compromised.

The resolution was sound, yet it roused a struggle between body and mind. On the one hand, she loathed him, loathed every single atom in his body. Not only had she endangered her world, but she had lost many friends in his attack, some closer than others. Furthermore, he had apparently cast her as his personal whore. No doubt the bit of mortal crumpet he visited to ease the tension of spending his days chained in the citadel square, his lips sewn shut. She had not endured five years of university and two years of intense training to become a glorified booty-call, regardless of the godly status of her visitor.

As dawn blossomed into mid-morning, she found herself attempting to eradicate the evidence of his presence. Ink was scrubbed from floorboards, her laptop lovingly returned to its rightful spot. The avalanche of books was reorganised, alphabetically, while the remains of the curtain was folded neatly and placed on a tiny bench by the door. It was only once Loki's touch had been removed from the room that she began the task of scrubbing herself clean. Yet, it mattered not that the water in her bath was unbearably hot. The fat bar of strong Asgardian soap did nothing to lessen the underlying sensation that she was now tainted. Even as she looked at her pale reflection in the gold-framed mirror, she could not help but feel that the slim wraith of a creature was not the same Alex Beckett that had excitedly boarded the plane at Canberra International Airport only three months before.

Discarding this memory, Alex scooped her pale blonde hair into a rough bun at the nape of her neck before dressing quickly in her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform. For some reason the layer of navy blue cotton made her feel safe. It was like armour: familiar, a touch of home. It provided her with enough confidence to leave her chambers.

Grabbing a quick snack from the banquet hall, Alex made her way to the courtyard. It was a haven of tiling and luscious turf, littered with tiny garden beds sporting the most delicate flowers Alex had ever laid eyes on. She figured it would be a lovely place to relax, had it not been for the prince chained at its centre. Loki: the face of scorn. The visage was truly demonic, blood trickling down his chin from the jagged black stitches marring his lips. His upper body was bare, leaving pale flesh open to the vicious fingers of the midday sun. Chains stretched across the yard, attached to his wrists and ankles.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

Upon her arrival, cold green eyes had appraised her. His were not the only ones. Those who came to ogle the fallen prince eyed the mortal with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. Ignoring them, she kneeled.

"Never again, Loki. You will not visit me; you will not speak to me. What happened last night was a mistake. Do I make myself clear?"

Green orbs twinkled deviously. Of course they did. To him, the adopted son of Odin All-Father, a being with infinitesimal power, her words were akin to the incoherent gurgling of a new born. Without thinking, she backhanded him across the face. The irritating twinkling did not disappear.

Bastard.

oOoOoOo

Feasting, fighting and fucking. These seemed to be the three staples of everyday life for the high-born of Asgard. True enough, Odin ruled with dignity and the court was filled with tittering about honour. Yet, as the golden son fell over unseen horizons, gravitas was replaced with debauchery. Odin would slip off to his bed chambers, immortality not keeping away the biting agonies of old age, leaving the young (by Asgardian standards) to enjoy their elongated youth.

Alex found it fascinating.

The parties that raged within the golden-hued halls of Asgard made the handful of barrels she had attended during her university years look like a child's birthday party. Her two weeks exploring the realm eternal had exposed her to more naked bodies and open acts of debauchery than she had witnessed during her entire life. Admittedly, this meant relatively little considering the sheltered nature of her teenage years.

Her first initiation into the night life of Asgard happened only hours after she arrived. She had been exhausted. The day had commenced at five am, with Fury calling an impromptu meeting to brief her on her upcoming duties. There was nothing brief about it. For five hours Fury and the Avengers had told her everything she needed to know about her mission. Why the meeting could not have taken place at a more reasonable hour eluded her. It clearly eluded the collaboration of superheroes too. Steve Rogers had idly tapped his 1943 theme tune on the table top, while Tony Stark had openly snored over his coffee. Following that, Alex had been carted away to the middle of nowhere, bi-frosted up to Asgard and introduced to the All-Father. To say she was lethargic was a complete understatement.

Therefore, when Thor had dragged her to one of their nightly parties, she was less than enthusiastic. Here she had been introduced to Volstagg; a robust man with a huge curly ginger beard, who seemed stuck lichen-like to the buffet table. She had immediately liked him, though it had taken about an hour to convince him that vegetarians did exist, she was one of them, and that is why she was sticking to the delicious butter soaked potatoes. Munching on said potatoes, she had watched as Thor and his companions became increasingly inebriated on Asgardian mead, pulled out their weapons and started mock fighting over the buffet tables. Fandral darted out of the hall mid fight, only to return with a gaggle of the most beautiful women Alex had ever seen. That's when the debauchery happened, and when Alex started to get disturbed.

In this moment, Sif, the Goddess of War, took a proactive approach.

She handed Alex a sword and started to teach her to fight.

So this was why, weeks later, Alex found herself enjoying these events. She had even learned to block out Fandral's escapades. She did not attend every single night. Her mortal constitution would not have been able to handle it. Also, if she was to do so, she would never have been given the chance to explore the rainbow bridge and subsequently bed Prince Loki.

Or had he bedded her?

Could it even be considered bedding?

It was actually Loki that had inspired Alex to attend the frivolities this night. To put it simply, she wished to escape from him: his smouldering green eyes, devilish lips and those fingers! A flush stained her cheeks and she took a hearty swig of ale. Then another.

"Steady on, my friend!" Volstagg's excessively jovial voice cut through her reverie. "You know that ale does not agree with you."

He was joined by Sif, whose ruby lips were curled into a broad smile. "Is it true that you struck the traitor during his punishment today?"

The venom in Sif's pronunciation of 'traitor' was truly terrifying, and Alex was instantly glad that she was not in Loki's shoes.

Alex smirked. "I may have done."

The smiles on Sif's and Volstagg's faces remained a while, before the Goddess of War grew serious. "Do not let Silvertongue get to you, Lady Alex. He has the ability to get into someone's mind and make them tear themselves apart."

Alex frowned. Was it her, or did it sound as though Sif was talking from experience?

oOoOoOo

It was early the following morning by the time Alex fell into her chambers. The delicious effects of the ale had all but worn off, leaving her yearning for the comforting depths of her bed. The night had been therapeutic to say the least. Mock-fighting with Sif had allowed her to channel some of her anger (both at Loki and toward herself) into physical exertion. She had enjoyed the culinary therapies of dessert, gorging herself on every sweetmeat Asgard came to offer. By the time she fell into bed, she had almost forgotten Loki.

Almost.

"Did you honestly believe you could escape me, mortal?"

A cold hand clamped down upon her lips, stifling the inevitable scream that followed. He was in her room. How had he gotten there? Part of his punishment was to be stripped of his magic, yet here he was. As though reading her mind, he smirked.

"I may not have my magic, but there are ways around this palace that even the All-Father does not know of."

Loki's hand slipped away, only to be replaced by icy lips. Pressing the palms of both hands against his chest, she attempted to push him away. Their lips hummed with his chuckle.

"Fuck off," she mumbled, her crass words becoming undistinguishable through the pressure of the kiss. "I said, fuck off."

"I am afraid, Agent Beckett, that there is really no way you can make me." His smirk morphed into a sneer.

"I'll call for Thor!" Her words sounded even more pathetic out loud than they had in her head. Nevertheless, they appeared to have the desired effect. The prince's perfect alabaster skin paled. "Or your father."

His eyebrow cocked. "And if I told them of our previous encounter?"

"I will call you a liar." Her eyes darkened. "You are, after all, the God of Lies."

"I am the god of many things." Loki's voice emerged as a hiss, the quick wink a clear indication of his intention.

"Who honestly says things like that? Seriously, Loki, bugger off."

"Make me."

"I will call Thor, I seriously will."

"I seriously doubt it, Alexandra. Were you to do that, my punishment would be extended throughout the night and you would never again have the pleasure of my company."

"That sounds like a pretty good arrangement to me."

Unfortunately, Loki's silver tongue chose not to respond with words, but rather with action as once again his lips locked with hers, tongue brushing against her teeth.

Damn you Loki! Damn you Fury! Damn you non-existent restraint. Alex thought bitterly as her body threatened to surrender. Clearly playing hard to get was not her forte, nor was having any kind of moral code.

Slowly, his fingers looped within the straps of her gown (getting drunk in her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform hardly seemed professional) and it became official.

He had rendered her a mindless idiot, consumed by lust.

Her resolution had failed.

She was well and truly compromised.

For now...