**Author's note**

If you want the full uncut version of this chapter, go to ArchiveofOurOwn. It's really not that much more graphic or different than this version, but I want to be as transparent about cuts made as possible. Again, I'm staying on the safe side. Thanks for reading!

Chapter 8: It Was Always You, Loki. (It Was Never You)

Sigyn had never considered sleeping in a man's arms to be comfortable. It was always too hot, or too tight of a hold, keeping her from shifting how she wanted to. She would always end up shoving the man away, and then he would usually end up hogging all the covers, leaving her too cold then.

Loki's arms, though, long and lean and so wonderfully cool to the touch, had given her the best rest of her life (creepy nightmare not included). Lying on her side, she sighed happily and sank back into his chest, her fingers trailing across the prominent vein of his forearm that was draped over her. This is how she wanted to wake up every day for the rest of her days, however long that might be.

Eyes fluttering open, it took Loki a second to remember he wasn't alone in his bed, but once he did, he smiled and pulled her further into him.

"Is it morning already, woman," he asked (groaned, more like) and kissed her hair, burying his nose in its clean citrus smell.

Inhaling deeply, he noticed a hint of something else, something smoky, in the scent of her hair as well. Pursing his lips, his unseeing gaze wandered up to the ceiling, trying to place the scent. To his recollection, she hadn't smelled like smoke ever before, unless she was using her magic, of course. No, she'd always smelled like some wonderful mix of tangerine and lemon, maybe the slightest dash of apple as well.

It clicked then what the new scent was, and his eyes went wide. Oh gods, she smelled like his bedsheets. It was the smell of his own soap, the fragrance he'd picked out years ago at the harvest market. Smoked Winter Mint. That was the name of it. He'd loved it so much that he'd bought the entire supply and paid extra for the vendor to sell that fragrance to him alone. A huge smile spread across his face, and he bit his lip. The possessive part of him was overjoyed.

"Is it morning already, woman," she mocked his voice and elbowed him in his ribs.

His chest rumbled with a small laugh, despite the pain from the jab.

"I think I've earned a slightly more affectionate term than just woman. Do you call Fenrir dog?"

"Heavens no," Loki said, faking a scoff as she shifted under his arm to face him, the crooked grin on her face making him want to bite her (gently, this time) again. "I love him far too much to call him something so base."

She opened her mouth to make some quip about him loving his wolf more than her, but thinking better of it, she clamped her mouth shut.

"I believe he jumped over the ledge of your balcony hours ago," she said, changing the subject as she played with the few strands of hair that peaked out from behind Loki's ear.

"Did he? During which round, I wonder," he said, pulling her flush against him and smiling. "We went so many that the memory escaped me. You just couldn't get enough of me."

"So smug," she said, rolling her eyes at his playful smile and smacking his shoulder.

She had to concede that he did have a point, though. She definitely could not get enough of him. But it was disturbing to think of Fenrir in the same room when they were doing that. Hopefully his paws had been over his ears. Poor thing.

"Oh dear gods, was he hiding under our bed the whole time? I'm glad I didn't realize that at the time," she said, cringing at the thought.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Our bed?"

Face reddening, she cleared her throat. "I meant to say your bed," she corrected herself, looking away from his suddenly too intense green eyes. "It was an honest slip."

Cupping the back of her head, he tangled his fingers in her hair. Look at her, blushing like that. As though he wouldn't want her forever in his bed, in their bed.

"Look at me, Sig," he whispered, and she reluctantly moved her eyes back to meet his. "This is our bed. What's mine is yours now."

The grey green of her eyes shined a bit more, and she leaned in to kiss him, his eyelids sliding shut at the idea of her lips on his first thing in the morning. By the norns, did he love this woman. The thought had barely come into his head when he felt her eyes on him, her mouth still suddenly. Pulling away, he knew she'd heard his silent admission, or maybe she'd felt it? He wasn't exactly sure how the blood bond worked. He built a wall in his mind, stone by stone, slathering mortar between, blocking her from the impossible to stop thoughts of love running through his head. He felt her bristle next to him, as though she knew he was keeping her out on purpose. Smart woman. Yet another thing to love about her. He rolled his eyes as his heart surged with the emotion again.

Damn. It.

Sighing, he laid his head back on his pillow, closed his eyes, and whispered, "Do you love me?"

He knew the answer. It wasn't as though she'd been hiding her thoughts like he had. He just wanted to hear her say it. Ironic, since he was afraid to say it himself.

Eyes roving over the beautifully sculpted features of his face, Sigyn took a breath. "Yes," she answered, her voice catching on the word. From the moment I first saw you.

Saying nothing, he opened his eyes, turned his head sideways and just stared at her. She swallowed and looked away, focusing on the chandelier above his bed. Being stabbed probably would've hurt less than the deafening silence. Apparently an "love you, too" was too much to ask of him. Unbelievable.

She pushed up, pulling the sheets up to cover herself, suddenly feeling overexposed. Maybe now was the time to leave. She'd had no intentions of leaving at all, but this was really starting to hurt, and the tears were building. And if she was going to cry, it was not going to be in front of him.

Before she could scoot off the bed, his hand landed on her shoulder, and he sat up beside her. He could hear her quarreling with herself over whether or not to leave, and he absolutely would not let her leave.

Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Have there been others?" He rolled his eyes. What a ridiculous thing to ask her.

Turning her head, she looked at him over her shoulder. "Other what?" she asked, one eyebrow raised as she sucked in her cheeks.

She could have guessed what he was asking, but she was somewhat amused by how pink his cheeks had gone and wanted him to clarify out loud what 'others' he was referring to. A little embarrassment would do him well.

Loki knew it was none of his concern, of no consequence, but he wanted to know, and frowning because there was no way to get around this, he blew out a breath.

"Have you been with any other men?" he asked, and closing his eyes tight, he dropped his head to her shoulder, adding, "...sexually?"

Honestly, he could have facepalmed right then. He'd said it wrong, and now he sounded like an absolute fool. Of course she'd been with other men, but he wanted to know if she'd been in love before. Sigyn was his first love (he scowled at the word), and he wanted to be hers. More than that, though, he wanted to be her only love. It was why he hated that damn hawk so much. If Theoric came within an inch of her again, Loki would kill him. He looked sideways. He might have some jealousy issues.

"Um...you are not the only man I have slept with, Loki," she finally answered, looking somewhat amused.

Loki glared at herーWell, obviously.

Surely she didn't think he was asking if she had been a virgin for nine hundred years! She wasn't dense. She knew what he meant. Oh that she would have expounded on the subject and told him what he really wanted to know without forcing him to ask it. She was just punishing him for not returning her sentiment verbally.

Smirking, she added, "My previous bedmate was actually how I ended up here in Asgard. You should be grateful."

Her humor was lost on him, and she narrowed her eyes. If he was going to be this openly possessive and jealous, why was he trying to hide his feelings for her? His shifting emotions had her wanting to claw her skin off.

Loki was genuinely confused. He'd assumed she would answer curtly, he would have to clarify, and be forced to say that he loved her. Instead, she'd piqued his interest with the mention of how she came to Asgard. Hadn't she come to study under the tutelage of his mother?

Tilting his head to the side, he frowned. "What does a previous lover have to do with coming here?"

"He was hardly a lover, Loki," she said, shaking her head. "We'd grown up together. Friends. His name was Jöður."

Loki wondered momentarily if this Jöður (he rolled his eyes at the name) resembled him. He hoped not.

"What did he look like?" Oh, for Hel's sake.

He couldn't believe his own idiocy. As if the man's appearance had anything to do with this story. Thankfully, rather than calling him out on his stupidity and leaving the room, she merely shrugged though her tone suggested annoyance.

"Um, well, he was a bit shorter than you. Hair and eyes the color of chocolate. His skin looked like a sort of...light caramel. He was thin but strong. Is that a good enough picture for you?"

Nodding, Loki stared blankly at her. He was the picture of apathy, but in truth, he'd been uneasy. Maybe it was silly, but he hated the idea of her having a penchant for black hair, pale skin, or green eyes. He wanted to know he was far more to her than just a type.

"As I was saying before I was required to describe for you the merits of his physical appeal, we'd known each other from childhood. Freya said we very nearly shared a crib."

"Brilliant," he sneered, unable to hold back the intense jealousy rising in his chest, "so you began sleeping together from a very early age."

Jaw set, Sigyn grabbed the belt of his robe from his desk chair, and yanking it toward her, she wrapped it around herself. "I'm not discussing this any further," she said.

She was halfway off his bed when he snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her back to him. "Forgive me, Sig," he said, smoothing his tone into velvet against her ear, sliding the fabric off her shoulder and kissing her neck. "I'll hold my tongue. Please continue."

Shuddering, she leaned into himーDamn him.

He was pure evil with that glorious mouth of his.

"It just happened one day. We'd been exploring the cliffs near my mother's home, and he kissed me," she said, glancing warily at Loki.

His jaw was set, teeth clenched, but he did, as he'd said he would, hold his tongue. Taking a breath, she continued the story.

"I didn't stop him, and he didn't stop either until, well, surely you see where this is going. I'm not expected to give the graphic details, am I?"

Sucking in his cheeks, Loki cleared his throat, and looking down at her shoulder, he shook his head. "That won't be necessary, no."

Not that she would have given details, but she was relieved that he didn't want them. She squared her shoulders.

"Over the course of several months we continued to see each other, if you will. Then I started having dreams. Dreams of a pair of mesmerizing, beautiful eyes. Emerald eyes."

She paused, looking at his reaction. The faintest hint of a grin appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Smug bastard, she thought loudly, earning her his signature full smirk. She spoke freely then, no hesitation left in her voice.

"I must have sketched them a thousand times. Those eyes haunted me, and not only in my dreams. I looked for them in every face, to no avail. Everyone had the same brown or blue color. I tried locator spells hoping to find the man with the green eyes. But the spells could only search the faces of those on the same realm. Well, I say that," she sighed, "there were spells that could see much further, across the galaxies even, but I was terribly inept with those."

Her eyes glazed over, as she mused further. "I suppose I'd become obsessed and had, unaware, pulled away from Jöður. My dreams were no longer just the eyes. My body writhed under those eyes."

Loki's smirk widened into a genuine grin with each word. Obviously, she'd been dreaming about him. And not just any dreams, but sex dreams. Nice. This story was becoming quite entertaining, and extremely flattering.

"It came to a bit of a head when he discovered the sketches and evidence of my failed spell casting. Also, I'd always kept my eyes open when we," she stopped herself before completing that sentence and waved her hand at his glare.

"Nevermind. One day I closed them. And from that point on, I kept them closed. I wanted green, not brown, looking back at me. Then at the festival of Dauða Nótt, or Death Night, on the first night of our eighth month, he confronted me about the 'green eyed man I was clearly fucking'. His words, not mine," she clarified.

"He called me a whore all damn night. It was all very ugly."

Her eyes turned black, and Loki noted a burning smell as black smoke seeped from the ends of her hair. Kissing her neck again and stroking her hair, the smoke dissipated. He would seek out this pathetic whelp and slaughter him.

"I became quite irate with him and his choice of words," she said, turning her eyes to Loki again. "You and I both know that my magic is of a somewhat wild nature, even now. Unfortunately for Jöður, and the rest of the village, the bonfire everyone was dancing around exploded, and the torches that surrounded the dinner became the rather nasty and deadly equivalent of flaming arrows. Most were burned in the blast, some were killed, including Jöður." She stared blankly at Loki, devoid of any scrap of emotion for those she'd killed.

Scoffing, he stared back, wide eyed, mouth agape. "You killed him?"

Loki didn't know if he was impressed or disappointed. He'd been looking forward to plotting the bastard's death.

Apathy clouded her features. "Not intentionally, but yes. After that, Freya feared I would either be locked up or executed so she brought me here under the guise of magical studies. Guise or not, I do have better control of my magic now."

Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue. "I wouldn't go that far, Sig."

"Hey!" she scoffed and hit him in the stomach, and the bed shook as he laughed.

"I knew," she said, her expression turning serious as she ran a finger from his throat to just below his right eye. "Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was you I'd dreamt of when I saw you."

Heart clenching at her words, Loki turned his face and kissed the palm lying against his cheek.

"From the moment I saw you in the throne room, I thought I knew you. I just wasn't sure until last night when your eyes were hovering above me. It was always you, Loki. And I think I loved you from that first moment."

Reaching around the back of her head, he twisted his fingers in her hair and pulled her onto his lap, bringing her mouth to his.

She spoke between his kisses. "Why won't you just say it? I can feel it. I know you love me. I know-"

He cut her off, pushing her back onto the black sheets. He couldn't say it.

Not yet.

Stomach churning with anxiety, Loki made his way down the east wing of the royal corridor toward his father's personal business quarters. He'd been summoned for the gods only knew what. Knocking on the door, he remained under the door frame when the doors were opened by the guards. Odin stood from his seat behind a sprawling gold accented cherry desk. His mother was seated by the fireplace opposite him and had plastered her gentle smile on her face. His father looked as solemn as ever. The whole scene was very foreboding.

What had he done now?

He'd served his time for the damage to Sif, and he'd done nothing mischievous since the sentence had come to an end. Well, that was if one did not consider what he'd been doing with Sigyn mischievous. He'd taken none too kindly to being interrupted by the pounding on his doors not fifteen minutes ago. Neither had she, for that matter. She'd thrown a robe on and actually growled at the guard. Fenrir would have been envious of the ferocious sound. She could have spooked a bear.

"Please, sit, dearest," Frigga said, patting the space next to her on the sofa.

"I would prefer to stay on my feet, Mother, thank you," Loki said, moving into the room slowly, eyes on his father who was gesturing him in with two fingers.

No, this was not good.

"My son." Odin's expression was something between sympathetic and stern.

Nodding at the king, Loki clasped his hands behind his back. "Father."

"The time has come, Loki," Odin said, walking around the desk and past Loki to sit by Frigga, "for Thor to take the throne. The date is set. One fortnight from today."

Jaw clenching, Loki turned away from his parents to stare at the floor. So that's what this was about. He'd been removed from the comfort of Sigyn's arms and brought here to be given the news that his insipid brother would be crowned king of Asgard in two weeks. Oh what joy. He unclasped his hands, running one through his hair, the other rubbing the back of his neck. Turning back to his parents, he dropped his hands, and shrugged.

"Should I have prepared a concession speech?" he asked, not hiding his sarcasm.

Frigga's eyes brimmed with tears as she stood and approached her youngest. "Loki, darling, please don't," she said reaching for his hands.

He looked at her, incredulous, and tucked his hands behind his back once more. "Don't what? Don't remind you of his arrogance? His recklessness? Or perhaps his temper? Why, he'd no sooner take the throne when Asgard would be at war with another realm just for pissing him off!"

Shaking his head, hoping to wake himself up (he was in a living nightmare), he grabbed the goblet of mead on Odin's desk, tossed it back with a grimace (it tasted like absolute swill) and threw it off the balcony.

"Oh Loki," Frigga sighed, wringing her hands and eyeing Odin. "Please don't resort to such crass words."

Loki laughed humorlessly. "I can do far worse than piss, Mother."

He was seething, positively livid. Stretching his hands out on the stone railing of the balcony, watching the grey clouds drop more snow onto the city, he replayed his father's once words to him in his head.

"You were both born to be kings."

He heard Odin approach him from behind and turned to stand toe to toe with him.

"I would remind you of your temper," Odin spat, his hands fisting at his side, "and your recklessness, Loki. And do not talk to the queen of Asgard with such disrespect."

Loki fumed. Here he was, standing on a balcony, visible to anyone passing by below, and his father was shouting at him, scolding him as though he were a school boy! Eyes wide, he grit his teeth, his hands glowing with bright green light aching to escape. Right then, he didn't care if sending a burst of magic right into his father's chest earned him a place in the dungeon.

Frigga hurried toward them and placed herself between the two men, her back to her son, hands on her husband's chest. "Cease this, both of you! You are father and son!"

She felt Loki's heavy breathing on the back of her hair and considered using a bit of her own magic to place a shield between Odin and herself and Loki. She didn't think Odin would actually strike Loki, but she wouldn't put it past him in that moment considering how riled up he was.

"Husband, please," she continued, eyes pleading. "He is your son."

Stern look writ on his face, Odin backed away, though he continued to stare at his youngest. "I'm sorry, but it was never you, Loki," he said quietly and turned away.

Loki dropped his forehead to rest on Frigga's shoulder. There was nothing to be done, nothing more to say. Stepping around her, he went straight to the doors.

"Please do inform me if I can be of any help in planning the joyous occasion," he said on his way out, slamming the doors behind him with the flick of his wrist, green light shimmering around them.

"The air is so much thinner up here," Sif gasped, sitting down heavily on a large, flat rock.

Thor swept his arm out, gesturing at the view from the highest mountain peak of the Realm Eternal. He'd asked Sif to go on a hike with him that day, though he hadn't planned to hike this high.

"It is stunning, though, is it not?" he asked, taking a seat next to her.

He closed his eyes as an icy gust whipped his blond hair about his face. Sif couldn't help but stare at him. They were alone, and far from anyone's peaking eyes, and he was so close to her. Without thinking, she reached up to push his hair behind his ear. She quickly pulled her hand away when he opened his eyes, and she flushed with embarrassment.

Thor turned to her with not an ounce of jest in his eyes and pulled her hand back to his cheek. He moved a touch closer, and dropping his gaze from her eyes to her mouth, he kissed her.

Heart pounding against her ribs, she opened her mouth as his hand tangled in the hair at the back of her neck. She grabbed at his armored shoulders, wishing it hadn't been so cold so she could remove the metal and feel his rough skin against hers.

He gripped her waist, pulling her against him as close as possible with all the layers between them. Why had he taken her anywhere other than his bedchamber? What in the nine had he been thinking?

Feeling his hand run up the inside of her clothed thigh had her body temperature sky rocketing. Maybe ridding themselves of their awful clothes might not be a bad idea after all. She pulled at the clasps of his cape as he yanked the fur coat down from her shoulders desperately. Hearing cawing from above though, they pulled away from each other and turned around. Huginn had appeared behind them. Rolling his eyes, Thor groaned.

Excellent timing, you cock blocking daft bird.

He glared at the black avian whose gravelly voice sounded in his ears telling him that Odin had summoned him. Reluctantly and full of disappointment, he let go of Sif. Thor whispered into her ear, helping her off the rock, sending electric shocks throughout her body as they began their descent from the mountain.

"This isn't over."

Lithe muscles tensed, Loki watched through narrow slits of eyes as his brother retraced his steps down the mountain with Sif in tow. Sinir, sensing the seething rage rolling off of his master, bobbed his head anxiously underneath him.

"That foolish brute will bring Asgard to its knees, Sin," Loki whispered, stroking the beast's neck, calming him. "Soon we'll be kneeling before Midgard's barbaric humans," he spat, flaring his nostrils and glaring at the blond warrior and his lover, apparently.

Sigyn, astride her black mare, Móða, appeared next to him. "You don't really think that," she said, pulling the hood of her cloak down further to shield her face from the blowing snow.

His stallion nuzzled her horse's nose, and not removing his eyes from Thor as he disappeared from sight, Loki sighed.

"No, I really know that," he corrected her. With a flick of his wrist, their gloves dissipated and he wove his bare fingers with hers.

"I admit that your logic is sound, Loki. Mjölnir would do well to spend a day in the toolbox, after all, one cannot solve every political discourse with brute force. Boring as diplomacy is, it is usually the best course of action. I hardly imagine Thor is capable of withstanding such boredom for long."

She trained her eyes at the forest not twenty yards hence wishing desperately to steal Loki away to Vanaheim just for the day. She wanted to think only of him, be only with him for the day. Escaping to her cliff would have been the perfect option.

"I cannot just leave Asgard, Sig," he responded to her silent musings.

Reaching for her, he pulled her into a tight hug. He wanted to leave. He wanted to run away with her. But he loved his home and refused to watch Thor destroy it with his idiotic rule. He had to do something (anything!) to keep that from happening.

"Stop reading my thoughts, Loki," she whispered into his hair. "There are other more inviting places on my person for you to invade than my mind, are there not?"

It was probably futile, the effort to distract him from the forthcoming coronation and his consequent miserable musings. He did, at least, offer her a mischievous smile and kissed her nose, but all too soon he pulled away. She sighed.

Worth a shot.

"I shall take you up on said invitation later, but Sig, I would appreciate solitude for the time being."

Her shoulders slumped but she nodded in understanding. She would have felt the same way if she'd been in his position.

"Of course." She clucked her tongue, and Móða hitched forward into a light gallop.

Loki watched as she picked up speed, her black hair floating behind her in the wind, and once she disappeared from sight, he turned Sinir to the forest and kicked him into full speed. Feeling as though he was flying through the trees, he smiled. Sinir was agile as a cat, slicing through the maze of branches.

Damn, this felt good.

Riding was liberating, allowing him to set aside his anger, even if just for a moment. Freedom came to an abrupt halt when the frozen over opening in the boulder he'd discovered many years past came into view. He hadn't aimed for it. He'd not even thought of it, but as he neared the opening, excitement brewed in his stomach.

Jotunheim.

Clucking his tongue, Loki led his horse to the icy rock, a surge of green light escaping his fingers and melting the ice barrier. He dismounted, tethering the dark stallion to the bare branch of a sturdy oak, and passed through the melted doorway with a low familiar, feminine voice ringing in his ears.

Don't do anything stupid, love.

Frigid Playlist:

8."Play With Fire" Sam Tinnesz ft. Yacht Money