(( Thank you all for the wonderful reviews. If I haven't mentioned it already, this is my first Loki and Darcy pairing. It's crazy and doesn't make sense, but I see some sick, twisted romance between them that has potential. It's hard to find some good form of fiction between the two. So I'm looking. But I highly recommend 'latessitrice' fanfic, "Smoke & Mirrors". It's freaking AWESOME!

I'm not going into much detail, because I don't want to ruin any details of the story, but according to Legend, you do know Loki was married to the Goddess Sigyn, right? ))

Chapter Four

What a waste of a perfectly good pastry and it was all his fault. Darcy laid the blame entirely on him. Darcy loved food. She didn't like it, she loved it. For someone to make her throw it, well, that was saying something. It was all his fault for his stupid taunts and mocking laughter. She had known he was pushing her, trying to force her into compliance and embarrass her. She'd tried ignoring him.

Really, she had.

But it was a little hard to ignore a very real voice that was talking to you in your head. It would have been different if she had known she was imagining it, but Loki was real and he was doing a damned real job of doing that telepathic thing.

She could get over the loss of the pastry, though, because Asgard didn't have dinner. They had a damn feast. Darcy was all about chocolate, pop-tarts, ice cream and coffee. Three of those things Asgard didn't have. They were very abundant in chocolate though...Screw the feast, Darcy went straight for the dessert.

But really, did Loki have to seat himself across from her? If the table hadn't been separating them, Darcy had the strange suspicion that she would have kicked him. And there went her theory that he didn't eat. Well, she hadn't seen him eat, yet, either. He was nursing a cup of what she was sure was some kind of alcohol.

And he was staring at her. Was she the only one who noticed it? Really?! She tried to stare back, but he didn't even blink. Just stared at her with those fathomless green eyes.

She actually felt bad for his wife. The woman, er, Goddess, had to deal with this crazy God who liked to cause a lot of trouble. Darcy didn't know nowhere near as much on Norse Mythology as Jane, but she'd read up on it with Jane. She vaguely remembered something about Loki being married to a Goddess Siygn.

Oh yea, Darcy thought, she was going to pay him a visit tomorrow afternoon. She was going to talk, talk and talk. She about had their strange time frame down, so she'd be gone before his little "freedom time".

Mess with Darcy Lewis and she was going to talk your head off.

Ugh, he had to stop staring at her! He just sat there, reclining in his chair and stared at her from across the table, idly sipping.

"You're awfully quiet tonight, Darcy." Thor cut into her wayward thoughts.

"Ugh..." Something brushed her throat, the glide of fingertips. There was nothing there but she felt them and her gaze jumped back to where Loki sat so innocently before her. That same touch slid over the pulse at her neck beating so frantically. Loki smiled.

"I was just thinking you guys needed a chocolate fountain." She said the first thing that came to mind, her words running together as she spoke too quickly. She was a nervous wreck and she didn't know why. "...you know, like where the chocolate is melted and—" An invisible hand wrapped around her throat, she knew it was a hand. There was nothing, but she knew the feel of fingers and a palm. He was silently taunting her, playing her in front of the entire room.

"Darcy?" Jane prompted.

This was all a game to him. He was the cat and she was the mouse. Darcy did the only thing she could think of. She didn't think. She blurted it out and lifted her glass in an awkward toast. "To your wife, Loki."

That wiped the smug expression off his face, leaving a frown. His eyebrows snapped down as he stared at her. He was still silent; so was the entire room. Even Odin was silent.

And then, "I have no wife."

Now that was just downright mean. She would have been pissed if she'd been married and her man went around saying they weren't. "Ah, yea, you do. I know all about you, your wife and your kiddos."

Duh. Everyone who knew anything about Norse Mythology knew Loki of Asgard was married to the Goddess Sigyn.

"I have no wife and certainly no children." Loki said again, as if the thought itself was disdainful. He looked toward Thor where he and his mortal sat. "I have more a glorious purpose than to allow myself to become so allotted to any female." His words were more directed at Thor than anyone else then—the mighty God had fallen for a mortal.

"He speaks the truth, Darcy." Thor said.

Her mouth dropped open. He even had Thor in on his little game? No! She looked towards Odin where he sat at the end of the table. "You, ah, Odin-Sir. The Goddess, technically, like, she's your daughter-in-law. It's in all the Legends. Loki and Sigyn—"

Glass shattered and Darcy turned her head. Loki was staring at her with narrowed eyes, the glass in his hand shattered from where he'd held it too tightly.

"There is no such Goddess in these realms or any other." Odin finally spoke, breaking the silence. "Sigyn is but a meaning of endurance here in Asgard." He stared at her with his one eye before that too watchful eye was watching a silent Loki.

She cleared her throat. She'd always hated being the center of attention. And every single person was staring at her. "Ugh, well, Loki—" An invisible vise tightened around her throat, a silent warning, the feel of fingers wrapped around her too delicate human body. She inhaled and felt a palm pressing against her jugular. Oh man, Loki was playing her in front of everyone and no one even knew it.

"Loki?" Odin prodded her to continue. Oh man, how had she gotten his attention so raptly?

"Yes, Darcy." Loki said, breaking the silence that had been between them. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table as he spoke. "Do tell me of this Legend where I find myself Wedded. I am most interested." He didn't sound interested. He sounded snide and was she the only one who heard the disbelief and sarcasm there?

She found her hands toying, her fingers twisting in the frayed ends of her scarf. She really wanted to hit Loki. He couldn't like, kill her or anything, but he was doing a fine job of making her squirm. Well, she corrected herself, he could kill her, but he'd probably suffer a fate worse than death by Odin-Sir over there. And well, dang it, the room was expectantly waiting for her to continue. Odin-Sir over there was staring at her again, too, his expression closed, watching the by-play between her and Loki.

She just hoped she didn't puke all over the table like she'd did in front of her class. Oh, man. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth and then snapped it shut. Loki stared at her in what she was sure was a pretense of patience. He arched an eyebrow at her silence and then leaned back in his chair. "Just as I thought, Darcy." Every time he said her name, he rolled it off his tongue, letting it linger in the air between them.

She didn't like it at all. She seriously didn't like him; she wanted to bug the hell out of him. Payback was a bitch and he was so going to be the bitch.

"You've played us well, Darcy." Loki said. A wine goblet appeared in his hand and he lifted it in an refined toast, as if to toast her on her creativity. 'Well done, my little Sigyn. You've played us well, but it would do you well to cease.' The look the Odin-Father gave him was not one he would consider pleasant, the thought was a bitter one. He would not have that old fool thinking he had such a refining quality as to Wed himself to any Goddess of the realm. He was still Loki, the God of Mischief, the Prince of Lies and he was still burdened with a glorious purpose.

Darcy folded her arms when his voice purred into her mind. Everyone was waiting for her to continue and even looking at her like she was a little crazy when she didn't continue. Loki looked too damned pleased. She glared at him. He didn't even smile back. Darcy almost wished she had his poker face.

Why did everyone find it so hard to believe that Loki was married? Well, duh, he was an asshole. No one liked an he hadn't met his Goddess yet. She shrugged at the thought. Maybe the real Siygn would get lucky and never meet him, some other God help her if she did!

Her head lifted when Loki's chair scraped back. He stood up and then leaned across the table. He took her hand in his and Darcy tried to snatch it back, but his fingers tightened, refusing her to remove herself. No one seemed to notice that small play between them, either. "Well done, Darcy Lewis." He said in that accented tone of his. "You've amused not only myself, but this entire room with your banter." But he wasn't amused. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.

There was nothing romantic in the gesture. She had the impression he was still playing his game. Was he mocking her again? And then he was gone, vanishing before her very eyes. She hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she released it.

Did they even sleep here in Asgard? No one had looked the least bit tired when one by one, or as groups, they had departed. She'd seen some of them heading outside and she'd seen Thor take Jane down a hall that lead only who knew where. They'd been closer, his hand keeping her tight against his side as he whispered in her ear. Jane's quiet blush.

Sex with a God was probably tubular, man.

She was probably going to regret eating all those sweets. They always went to her thighs and ass and while she had a pretty hot ass, she didn't want a fat ass. She faced the mirror backwards and looked over her shoulder. Yea, she still had a fine ass. She was a little short, but she compensated for that. But no more sweets. Gotta keep it under control. She reached behind her and gripped her ass-cheeks in the cargo pants—she refused to wear those Asgardian dresses because they were absolutely hideous. Dresses were for sissies and Darcy preferred her modern day state of clothing.

Staring at her ass, she knew she had to end those sweets right now. Man, not fair...

'WHAT are you doing, little Sigyn?' Loki's voice purred out in confused amusement and Darcy spun around, startled out of her mind. She screeched when she saw Loki sitting in the armchair across the room, one leg probed on the other as he studied her.

"You can't be in here! Go away! Get out!" This was her personal domain and he just couldn't be here! Darcy was really, really bad at not thinking sometimes and she threw the only thing in her hand. Her Ipod. It went right through his transparent and suddenly flickering form and crashed into the back of the chair, breaking on impact. Horror filled her. Her..her Ipod!

'I go where I please.'

"Now listen here, you despicable little monkey..." Darcy bit out. Her baby was smashed to pieces.

'I am no fury animal.'

"You act like one." She dropped to the ground and swept the pieces down in front of her own the floor. Oh yea, he was going to pay for this one. Maybe she'd sing him a song in her lovely little voice because she knew she couldn't sing worth a donkeys ass. If he hated her talking, he was going to despise her singing.

"You need a lesson in the Midgard animal anatomy, then."

Her head jerked up and Loki was there again, across the room. She picked up a book and threw it with all her might. Before it could hit his face, he caught the binder in his hand inches from his face. "Are all mortals so violent?" This was no mirage. This was Loki in all his green fashioned glory.

"Ooohhhh." She groaned out and turned back to the probably gazillion pieces of Ipod. Okay, so maybe not that many. And Loki was there, sitting cross legged in front of her. He was staring at the pieces of broken technology. He lifted a thin, transparent shield that had been the screen. "Hey—"

The room seemed to blur around her and then she was perched on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap with an irritated Loki looking at her before he was once again staring with curiosity at the broken objects.

Oh, hell no. He hadn't really just did that, had he? Just used his super-cool God like speed to put her on the bed while he fiddled with HER Ipod? "Alright, you bas—" Then she couldn't speak, silence coming from her lips and she couldn't move. Her legs wouldn't work. All she could do was sit there.

Hey!

Loki gave her another condescending, irritated look before he was spreading out the tiny fragments. Couldn't the mortal see that he was preoccupied? She was most insolent. He'd been very amused at how childish she was when she started throwing objects his way. And he was most intrigued with how the device she so cared for became so undone.

He didn't need to look at her to know she was still there, sitting across the room. He could feel her anger. But she was blessedly silent. "You may speak." He said, tilting as head as he placed two shiny pieces of metal together on the floor. ""What did you say this...box was called?"

She 'may' speak? SHE MAY SPEAK? Her vocal cords worked and she let him it. "Now listen here, mother fuc—" Her tirade ending in silence half way through when Loki lifted his head.

"I did not ask for your insults, no matter how...colorful they are, Sigyn." He waved his hand over the intriguing, twisted pieces and Darcy watched when they slowly began to come together, clicking into place until her Ipod rested above his knees, in one piece.

Holy shit!

She couldn't speak, she couldn't get up and she desperately wanted her Ipod back, not to mention to be able to talk. He wasn't even looking at her now. She growled and pitched a pillow back and threw it at him. His eyes narrowed in irritation as he twisted his body to the side, allowing the pillow to sail past him. She glared daggers at him and then motioned towards her throat.

His teeth flashed when he grinned. "Better, my little Sigyn?" He murmured.

"Howdidyou—" Her words blurred together in excitement, but she was still a little pissed. And then he waved his hand again and the Ipod broke apart. She gasped. Was he mentally retarded? Did he have no idea how important that thing was?!

Midgard was insignificant compared to Asgard with nothing to little in-between. But this small piece could come undone in so many tiny fragments...he'd always been with intellect, when something was broken, he wanted to fix. He waved his fingers and everything clicked into place and the crack over the screen slowly sealed itself.

And then Darcy could feel all of his attention focused on her. Every single bit of the darkness he kept inside. He was on her in an instant, his hands braced on the bed on either side of her thighs. Her breath froze. His words were very precise and filled with venom.

"You play a fine game, little Sigyn. Very enduring, indeed." He spoke heatedly. "What did you think to accomplish by seeking me out? That I would be too easy a fool, easily enamored of your charms? You amuse me for someone who is so weak a mortal." He touched her cheek, but his hand didn't move from her side. An invisible touch, then. "I require your presence, little Sigyn, and I will have it. I find you to be very...unique." He chuckled then, but he didn't look happy.

He looked a little crazy.

Darcy gulped.

"You've challenged me where none in all the nine realms have dared. Your insolent mannerisms." Perhaps that was the reason for his sudden infatuation. She hadn't shown fear in his wake when he'd threatened her. Not even after when he'd made that threat into a reality. She was not afraid of the God of Mischief...perhaps that needed to be changed.

"I do not require that you speak, my little Sigyn." Something tugged her hair. "You would do well to remember that."

Was he mocking her again? Man, did he really think that she was going to be quiet just because he told her to? As if! She'd talk whenever the hell she wanted! Oh, man. Good God Almighty, he was actually ordering her around, as if she some kind of dog.

"You amuse me." He said the words again, but Darcy sensed something else in the words. An omission. He was admitting it and he didn't look too darned happy about it.

"But you will cease this mockery of marriage." He suddenly whispered. She sucked in a sharp breath when his very real hand circled her throat and she was shoved down onto the bed, his hold keeping her down. He stared down at her nonchalantly. "What do you think to accomplish by this form of blasphemy? What do you think to gain by filling my Father's head with such non-sense?" He laughed, the sound almost bitter. "There is no wife that you so spoke of and by Valhalla, no such children. The little devils are of the utmost annoyance. But Sigyn...it is a most becoming name for one such as yourself. Much more befitting than Darcy Lewis."

He tilted his head, his fingers an unbreakable vise around her throat. He met her eyes, his expression changing. "Or perhaps you thought to ensnare me in the same trap that my dear brother has so willingly stepped into?"

What? An image of her and Loki popped into her head. No, no, no!

"I would submit myself to the utmost torture before joining with a mortal in such a manner." Loki bit out.

Darcy stared up at him incredulously. She hadn't voiced her thought and it so wasn't a thought that she liked. Hell to the no to the way fucking no. There'd be blood, a lot of slapping and biting involved and none in the pleasurable way. It wouldn't be Loki doing it, either, she'd be fighting him tooth and nail.

"Do not think yourself so able."

What the fuck? Was he reading her mind?

He smiled.

Darcy swept her closed fist out and caught him on the cheek. It had the desired effect because he released her. He stared down at her in shock. And then he started to laugh.

Darcy quickly rolled away and picked up another pillow. "You know, for a reformed God, you don't sound reformed at all. You sound like the same, twisted, sadistic retarded mother fucker you were before!"

He could not help himself. She'd slapped him—she, a mortal—had slapped him and he was a God, a being of superior power. He laughed again, the sound dying down to a chuckle. "Reformed? Why would you ever think such a thing, my little Sigyn? It is not your race that I need to enslave."

"Then what, huh? You plan on enslaving a pack of rats?"

He frowned. "Why would I enslave such filthy creatures?" He did not answer her question, though. He did not have an answer. Enslave what? He still had a need to rule. Perhaps not an entire race, but the need was still there and in his blood. But the answer still was not there.

Darcy threw the pillow at him and then he vanished. Whoa—he appeared behind her and jerked her back against him, his arm around her throat in what would have been a Class A badass mother fucking wrestling move. "Cease this childish notion of throwing things." His lips neared her ear. "I value you as a means to an end. Perhaps I shall keep you until my punishment is complete."

"Listen here, buddy, I'm nobody's 'means to an end', so let's get that straight. I'll talk you into the next century if you don't get out—"

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Sigyn...be quiet." He said in a chuckling murmur. "I asked that you entertain me, not render me deaf with your oddities."

Darcy was quiet when she slammed her elbow into his stomach and he gave that too damned everything laugh again. It wasn't funny, dammit. She ducked out from beneath his arm. Oh yea, she'd entertain him alright. He wanted it and he was going to get it. Jane hated it when she talked about everything she'd done that day. She had the feeling Loki would, too. Then she'd—

Loki cursed behind her, startling her with how explosive the sound was. She turned and he was hunched over. He gave a hissing breath, his fingers hovering over his lips as he stumbled back a step. He braced his other hand against the wall, his fingernails leaving groves as he dragged his hand downward along the surface.

"Hey—"

He lifted his head at the sound, as if he'd forgotten she was even there and Darcy gasped at what she saw. His features were twisted in pain and the black thread that was sewn through his lips was dark against his pale skin. Blood oozed around each thread where it pierced his skin.

She hadn't seen that before. She was sure the last time she'd seen him like that, there hadn't been any blood. He hadn't looked like he was in mega shit loads of pain, either.

Loki stumbled towards the door way, bodily throwing the chair blocking his way across the room. The pain was impossible, like a thousand needles had pierced his skin and body. The thread was far too tight, the pain and weakness reminding him he'd waited too long.

'Get out of my way, mortal.' He bit out in her mind. He faltered on the one step and sank down to one knee, cursing into her mind. Blood dripped from his lips, staining the back of his hand.

"Whoa, hey, like, what's wrong?" Darcy lifted her hands in surrender. Okay, so that was kind of stupid to say, because pain was the obvious answer to that question. So apparently it was Thread Time. Go Loki! Take your punishment! He looked up at her with such bitterness when she asked that question. And he looked like he was seriously in need of a band-aid. A lot of them with all that blood... "Why don't I go get Thor, or your Dad..."

His voice reached her, laced with bitterness and misery. He didn't look like a happy go-getter, either. 'THIS is not my place of punishment. Remove yourself, I need...'

Images raced through her mind. No, not images, impressions. Loki. The Odin Father. The Silencing Thread. His punishment. A fit place for someone who was never at peace. They were broken pieces of information, but they were there. All he had to do was obey the rules. One place. One time. Otherwise he would suffer dire consequences.

Consequences?

Like, having your lips sewed shut wasn't consequence enough?

Darcy gasped, her hands covering her mouth in shocked horror. Oh, man. Ohmanohmanohman! Oh hot and bothered Gods! No wonder she'd never seen him in pain like this before. He'd always been in the Garden, on that weird pedestal. So that was where he HAD to be when the sun rose. No broken deals there, just a bad oopsie if he didn't comply. And a lot of afflicting pain, apparently. She guessed that whatever numbed his pain and ended it quickly didn't end it so quickly when he wasn't there...

'So you are not so dim-witted after all. Get out of my way!'

Darcy started at the venom in his voice and jumped to the side. His arm swept out, catching himself against a wooden dresser and sending crystals crashing to the floor. My God, was he weak? She stood there, shocked. Everything that had just taken place, it happened in seconds. His hissed out order, everything. She watched as he did his little vanishing voodoo trick—which didn't work the first time—and then he was gone.

Darcy yanked open the door and took off running down the hallway.

Loki reappeared in the Garden. He'd never felt such pain. It was a reoccurring throbbing as the Thread tightened, pulsated and then released. And then it started anew, as if reminding him where his punishment should lie. Why now, of all times, had he forgotten something so vital? His body, starting at his lips and down to his toes was a weak, throbbing mass of flesh. His lips felt as if thin razors were cutting.

He sank to his hands and knees, his cloak dragging the ground behind him. Get up. He spat the words out to himself and braced one hand on the fountain at his side. He was no weak, pathetic mewling quim. He forced himself up onto one knee. The pain was intense, the thread tightening so that he felt it throughout his entire body. He actually reached up to rip the offending thread out but his fingers could find no end to the thread to begin.

The pedestal was right there. Right. There.

"Alright, come on. Get up."

His head whipped to the side at the sound of her voice. She slid an arm beneath his and around his back and tried to lift him. 'Remove yourself from my presence.' He spat the words out, disgusted that she would witness such an act of weakness from him.

"Ugh, no?" She really should, Darcy knew. Just let him simmer in his torture chamber. That'd serve him right. But she was Darcy Lewis and Darcy Lewis was a sucker bonified when it came to helping others. Running down the hall, she had veered for the Garden. He'd be there, right? She'd come to the conclusion that since he was a God, this thread-poof punishment would have been bad, bad, totally bad news.

He hadn't even been able to make it across her bedroom. So how the hell did he plan to make it up that pedestal?

She felt kinda sorry for him.

'I do not want your pity.' He hissed.

She ignored that little mind reading quip and broke out in a sweat. "Come on. Help me, you're heavy." He was getting heavier by the minute, his body slacking. Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What the hell kind of punishment was this? Was Mr. Odin-Sir trying to kill his son or what?

'Leave me, you little fool.'

"I think I preferred Sigyn over that. Get your ass up. You might be into pain, but I'm not. I'm not just gonna stand by and watch you in pain." She pulled at his body and what, did he actually move? Something glistened off his forehead; shit, was that sweat?

'Why would you do something so foolish?' He hissed out in pain, but the question was sincere, maybe a little confused, too.

"Because. Now get up before I start talking about your kids." That seemed to propel him into motion, as well as silence. Darcy gripped the arm that was suddenly thrown over her shoulder and hefted him up. "God, you're heavy." She muttered, sinking beneath his weight as she struggled to force him closer to the Pedestal.

'Now you address me properly.' He bit out through each painful, sluggish step.

If the situation hadn't been so dire, she probably would have had a witty come-back. He'd been so virally strong, mean and somehow kinda coolish badass before all of this...Darcy was starting to think that this was madness. He cursed beside her and Darcy knew he did because the sound echoed in her mind. He was trying to rip the thread from his lips, the grimace and twisted expression on his face showing his agony.

She didn't see how a single thread could produce something like that.

"Dammit, ow—thorns, hello?" Darcy muttered. They were sharing his weight until finally he had one knee on the Pedestal. She leaned forward and pushed him the rest of the way. His shoulders sagged and she heard the resounding sigh that came forth.

He lifted his head, his body still kneeling on the Pedestal. She watched as the sickening color of his skin changed, still pale, but not nearly so deathly looking. When he lifted his head, his frighteningly green eyes met hers, she noticed there was no blood on his lips. There was no pain, no lingering grimace, nothing to show that agony he'd just been in.

He stood slowly, his hands at his sides before he clasped them behind his back. This was the Loki she'd come to know. All bad-assery in his refined glorious purpose stuff. He just stared at her, the look in his eyes unreadable.

He spoke then, his voice filling her mind. 'Leave.'

Darcy didn't have to be told twice.

Loki watched her leave, watched her until the Garden door closed behind her. Then and only then did he return the Odin-Father's gaze from across the Garden, where he'd watched the scene in silence.