After the longest wait ever… and at the most random time of day… it is finally here! TaaaDaaa! Longest chapter to date, overflowing with feels and all sorts of horrible stuff you have all been so looking forward to! I hope it lives up to your expectations!

So without further ado… the next TWO chapters…

Loki knew this path without conscious thought. He had aged several hundred years within these halls and even now when all of it had grown foreign and foreboding, his memory served him. Even the intricate knot work that adorned so much of this place, spoke of an ingrained familiarity. And such patterns would always give warmth to the life he'd left behind, even with those cold lesions of his home world more truly ingrained upon his flesh. He remembered this walk in particular. More than once he'd been called to this throne room at the Allfather's behest. In the past the matters had been few and far between. Occasional scolding for mischief, interspersed with menial ceremonies and saving Thor from his own idiocy. Such trivial matters. Still, this wasn't the first time he'd been brought before the throne in chains.

And the last time he was sentenced to rot in the dungeons for the rest of his miserable life.

He was hopeful and nearly certain that he would never have to see the Allfather again. The old man's parting words had stung like salt in an open wound. And through his months of captivity, it festered. Born to be a king. So many times he'd been told that he was born to be a king. But in so few words he'd been degraded to even less than a prisoner. Even less than his Jotun blood. He was born to die abandoned and forgotten. A runt. A disgrace. Worthless in every respect.

Several years before he might have taken such cruelties to heart, given that Odin's last poor choice of words prompted his self-destructive escape through the Void. But it merely bolstered his hatred – his utter loathing. And after endless days in solitude it left him bitter and twisted and angry and lost.

And right where Naomi found him.

He held her even closer as they came upon the throne room. Her hand still shook from the burn she'd sustained, but she seemed well enough otherwise. Her bare feet were nearly silent as she walked across the polished marble floors. Her eyes swept the halls without much concern. But he knew her masks now and this was unfortunately one of them.

As the doors to the throne room opened, he felt her pulse quicken in her tightening grip. But there wasn't anything more he could do. Still surrounded by their caravan of guards, they were pressed forward until they were left standing at the foot of the dais. Normally the Allfather looked so carefully removed as he oversaw the Nine Realms, completely cold and emotionless, but as his gaze met the figures at his feet, he couldn't hide his discontent. "What is the meaning of this?" His rumbling voice carried through the room, quickly commanding everyone's attention.

Loki still maintained a white knuckled grip on Naomi's hand and she was still pressed into his side, now of her own accord. But he didn't respond, only retained the same emotionless façade, his dark green gaze focused intently on the condescending glare that fell upon him. After a long, chilling silence, Thor finally came forward. "He refused to come without her."

"As a prisoner, he has no place making demands."

Loki smirked, shortly noting his mother's wary gaze. She stood precariously at the foot of the dais, halfway between him and the All father. So had been her stead for so long. His eyes refocused on Odin just as he was motioning to his guards. And Naomi was very shortly removed from his grasp, their hands forcefully unlaced. They shared in that brief moment of panic, but he silently reassured her. I promised I would protect you. But there was a game to be played. A game of appearances. A game of restraint. A game he knew all too well. So he returned his attention to the Allfather as they took her away. But the guards thoughtfully acknowledged his seething gaze and they didn't go far – simply out of his reach.

"What have you to say for yourself?"

"Nothing," Loki said deadpan.

"You escaped your cell."

"I did not," he gruffly replied. "Not once. And this woman can attest to that. Whole-heartedly," he added, his mind lingering on their first real touch that he was already missing.

Odin's frown deepened. "As usual, you dance around the truth. I will assume that your body remained, whilst your magic, by some means, did not. You broke the confines of your imprisonment, if not in body than in principle. And this woman stands as proof of that as well." Loki's eyes narrowed. "She fell upon Hel's doorstep and yet here she stands. By your intervention."

"And for once I am the more compassionate," Loki scoffed. "You would have left her to die!"

"I did," he said matter-of-factly. "By your interference you have only prolonged what is inevitable. And there is still the matter of the guard you murdered. And you will make no argument for that," he continued, silencing Loki's explanation. "For these crimes, your sentence must be reevaluated."

His frown deepened. "And what, dear Allfather, might that entail?"

"For now, you will be returned to the dungeons to await further punishment. As for the girl." Loki's brow beetled, the skin pinching above his nose. Tread carefully, old man. Or I will find a way to make you eat your words. He turned to his guard. "Have her escorted to a cell of a lesser proximity. I shall find means to deal with her as well."

Thor approached him then, bearing this sickly disappointed countenance, just as the guards began to descend. "I am sorry, brother."

"Are you?" Loki replied incredulously. "I fail to see any such sorrow in your non existent attempts to defend me." Thor didn't respond, not a jest in return. He caught him glance at Naomi who still stood just beyond his reach looking completely livid. And Thor suddenly donned a look of startling shame he'd seen only once before. You – you're one of the Avengers. I've been kidnapped. Please – I haven't done anything wrong. Could you help me? Tell someone that this is a mistake. Please. And Thor so uncharacteristically ignored her pleas. Loki eyed him curiously. "Tell me brother, what is it you're sorry for?"

His sudden aversion was rather telling. What could the mighty Thor possibly have to be ashamed of? Remorse and regret was hardly in his nature. Ordinarily he made a point to get himself into insurmountable trouble time and again. So what was it this time, Loki drawled to himself. How have you wronged me this time? What could possibly – and he found him glancing at Naomi again. I was walking home, he heard her say once more, a sullen echo in the back of his mind. And all of the sudden he was there. He remembered her quietly recounting the incident that had brought her here. A lone attacker. Æsir for certain, but it could have been anyone. But it wasn't just anyone, was it?

Loki looked him up and down, his eyes suddenly accusing until he unfortunately found what he was looking for. I know I broke the skin more than once, but he didn't even the crook of his elbow, three very distinct scars marked his skin. Un-pigmented flesh, raised just so. A few desperate attempts at escape marring his otherwise perfect façade. But Thor? His mind had recreated the scene, but he could hardly believe it. Thor, self-proclaimed protector of Midgard, kidnapping one of the people he held so dear? And such was the birth of such foolish regrets. "That was you?" Loki growled. "You brought her here? Abducted her against her will!"

"Loki, I- "

"You brought her here – you of all people – knowing what she would be subjected to?"

"Loki, I didn't-"

"That she would be slowly starved to death without purpose? And I suppose you would have known all along. I should have known after you, floundering like a proper idiot, refused her cries for help."

"This wasn't what I wanted, Loki. I had no choice."

"Of course not," he laughed. "Just following orders. Errand boy for the Allfather, yet again." He glanced at Odin, noting with nominal satisfaction that his aloof façade was slowly cracking. "You – you think yourself so noble and true and here you are: some petty brute snuffing out those too weak to defy you."

"What hypocrisy is this? Are you not the man who brought an army to Midgard with the intent of conquering through innocent bloodshed? You laughed at the idea of preserving anything deemed beneath you."

"I was only following your marvelous example, brother. Oh how many times you spoke of pillage and plunder and genocide. Hypocrisy! How do you think Asgard came to the head of the Nine Realms? It had little to do with diplomacy, I can assure you of that. What I did, I may have done out of spite and anguish, but my crimes do not exceed those of any warrior ever to rule these realms!"

"You started a war," Thor growled beneath his breath.

He shoved Thor aside, taking a few steps up to the dais before turning back. "As did you. You brought us to the brink with our oldest enemy and at what price? Mere banishment – temporary exile – while I have been condemned to spend the rest of my life in a cage. We could debate this until the end of days, Thor, but it will ultimately lead us nowhere. Regardless of gravity, I have held myself accountable for what I have done, contrary to your obvious belief. Now I want to know what exactly Naomi is being held accountable for?" He extended a hand in her direction, his heated gaze still heavy upon his brother and the Allfather.

"Nothing," Odin said.

Loki faltered. "Nothing?" Loki's jaw was momentarily slack before his teeth clenched. Despite what he'd said, he had never actually believed she could have been snatched without reason – that was too cruel. Even for the Allfather.

"Your assumptions are correct," he continued without emotion. "She may have been taken unjustly. But not without reason." He caught his mother's questioning gaze. She'd been surprisingly quiet until now, but they had effectively seized her attention now. So here lay the demon she spoke of. "She was to be a martyr for a worthy cause."

"And what cause is that?" Loki spat.

"To teach you a lesson."

At first he was confused, but when his mind finally caught up, he was dumbfounded. I was watching her die. At the time, it was merely a disgusting observation, but now a true intent. "You brought her here to kill her- "

"No," he quickly interjected. "She was carefully monitored by healers to ensure that she never crossed a line of no return. She was hand selected for her strength and endurance. I was confident she could survive. And if not, all the more truth to the illusion. But the end was not to kill her needlessly, but for you to understand – empathize – with the people you selfishly murdered. Perhaps in watching someone else suffer needlessly, maybe you would finally regret what you have done."

"I do regret what I've done!" The thought passed his lips even before he'd fully formed it. But he did – on some level. Having seen Naomi in her most desperate hour, knowing the family members she worried about and the life she almost lost, he did. He felt remorseful and disgusted to think it could have been him. That he could have caused that pain. That in his attack she could have been among the dead. Perhaps it had not been the Allfather's intent to bring some relationship into this tortuous game, but it had and it achieved his end far simpler than he ever thought it could. "I do," he said again, this time knowing full well what he was saying. "Through her, I have seen the pain I've caused. I took for granted how greatly I was blinded by the Tesseract. I simply never saw it that way. But here, with Naomi, I saw the other side. And she didn't have to die for me to understand that."

Frigga smiled, that glimmer of hope glowing thankfully brighter. A short glance back to Naomi earned him a similar stare and a smile pulling at her lips. But when he turned back to the Allfather, his grim determination looked even worse. "The sentiment is appreciated, Loki. But I can't trust you anymore. You have brought me to a place where I believe you'd say anything to get what you want." And just like that, Loki's only attempt at genuine honesty was met with ignorant disbelief. He signaled to the guards. "Take him away."

"Odin, please." Frigga finally stepped in, approaching his throne in a hurry. "Please reconsider this. This is the sincerest I have seen Loki in such a long time. I have spoken with this woman and our son," she reminded him. "He is telling you that he regrets what he's done. Please. Give him a chance."

"You are always so quick to defend him – he is a criminal."

"And I am his mother!" She rested heavy on the arms of the seat, ensuring that she was heard. "Odin, please. I have seen them suffer down there and far beyond the realm of justice. I can hardly condone what you have done, but he has learned the lesson you laid out for him. Perhaps not in the way you had perceived, but he has learned it. This woman, she has found a place in his heart. I have seen it. Won't you please, just reconsider?"

Loki peered past the guards to where Naomi stood, still completely surrounded and looking more panicked than ever. When she caught his stare, she mouthed something he couldn't quite read. Damn these shackles. He turned back when he heard Odin stir. Loki tried desperately to read him – to find some semblance of deliverance. His hands shook in tight fists as he waited for him to speak again, willing himself not to look over his shoulder. When he finally looked up again, his face looked hardened. And his odds only looked worse.

"Loki will continue to face justice for the crimes he has committed. I fear I will never see proof enough to absolve him of such grievous sins."

His heart fell into his stomach and his blood burned with panic. He rushed forward as the guards braced his shoulders. "What of Naomi?" he demanded.

"She will be dealt with here accordingly."

The fear flared again. To be dealt with. It could mean any of a hundred horrible and unjust ends. He couldn't imagine – after seeing the lengths that Odin had gone to already – what would become of her. But he couldn't bear to see her put to work as some servant, further tormented, left to the devices of a place already so unkind to her. He watched as the guards began to drag her from the room. She fought as valiantly as she had on day one, but this time even less effectively. She tugged hard on their grip only to be shrugged off and silenced. "Let me go! You can't keep me here like this! Let me go!"

He was chilled to the bone, hearing the panic in her voice – the same unimaginable fear that had completely smothered his every logical thought. This is not happening. Not again. I have to do something. I promised. I promised to protect her. He had already lost her once and it could not happen again. "Loki! Loki, please!" He had never heard her beg. She demanded and complained and threatened. But never had she begged. Not even when she was starved nearly to her death. Not even when she was raped. Had she heard something? Did the guards behind her know what was to become of her? What if they intended to kill her? "Loki!"

It didn't matter. Whether she was in danger of death or something far more trivial, he could no longer ignore her cries. Not hers. Not anymore. He, through indirect fault, had brought her here. She was forced into this Hel for his selfish hunger for power and suffering. This was his fault. And in that brief moment he wondered if his debt to her could ever be repaid. His mind whirled trying to catch the solution as his thoughts spun around and around, shedding their sanity in leaps and bounds. If they took her away, he would never see her again. He'd be banished back to the dungeons – alone for a tortuous eternity – wondering what became of her forever. He wouldn't take that chance.

I will see you safely home, Naomi. One way or another.

He slammed the heel of his boot into the closest foot he could locate and promptly dodged to avoid the retaliation that followed. While he was low and hunched, he twisted the guard's knee with a sickening crack, sending him to the floor howling in pain. Loki rolled to avoid an uppercut aimed at rending his head from his shoulders. He leapt up from behind and hooked his chain round the other's neck and yanked him to the floor with brutal force. Crossing his wrists and bringing them to his chest, the metal chain tightened around his throat until he slipped silently into unconsciousness.

In the mere seconds that had passed, no one moved. The other guards still stood at the ready, Thor was too startled to do anything more than stare. Odin was on his feet, Gungnir in hand but like everyone else frozen in the sudden chaos he'd created. And then like a waterfall, they descended.

In his haste to avoid the incoming assault, his instincts summoned his magic and he was greeted with a jarring pain in his wrists as the binders seared his flesh. Well that wouldn't do. Tiny jolts of electric energy slithered through his veins making the whole of his body ache. He clenched his fists until the pain subsided, all the while charging toward Naomi and the onslaught that was about to take place between them. He met the next attacker with an elbow to the soft spot of his armor and the next was run through with the sword of the former. But he couldn't very well wield a weapon with his hands chained together. So he tested their limits again. As the next guard made a futile attempt, he pressed his palm hard against the warm flesh of his cheek. His hand turned blue as a cold radiated from his core and then burned the skin that met his freezing fingertips. He fell, like the others, nursing his frostbitten face.

Loki met the Allfather's livid countenance with an unforgiving scarlet glare as he took the chain between his fingers and enveloped it with ice. And then, catching it on the helm of an approaching guard, the brittle metal links shattered. That helped, but it was no better than being stuck in that norn-forsaken cell. Naomi. She had finally disappeared from his line of sight, but her voice still echoed from the hall.

He was so close. Less than a stride length from the doorway when the reinforcements arrived. The air left his lungs as he was body slammed by the first attacker and then dog piled by the rest. As far as strength was concerned, Loki was pathetically outmatched, so he tugged and squirmed, accomplishing nothing as their combined weight continued to crush him. And the panic finally set in. "Naomi!" She didn't respond. Why didn't she respond? He couldn't keep the images of her starving form from his mind. Nor the muffled sounds that carried through the ice when the guards took her. All the results of such a short time trapped here. And all his fault. All my fault. "Naomi!"

The weight lessened as he was slowly dragged to his feet, restrained by more guards than his frenzied mind could account for. But among the deafening clatter of armor and weaponry, he found a voice he recognized. Thor. His tone was harsh and demanding, but the words were lost to him – drowned out by his own pounding heart. And Naomi. Her voice rang loud in his ears – like a blade in his back or a thorn in his side. You just stood there! You didn't do anything – you just stood there! He growled, struggling against the stocky and immovable forms of the guards that surrounded him. His wrists itched as his sei∂r sought to escape.

He felt the restraint lessen slightly, paired with a cry of war he knew all too well. A near literal roar as large hands clamped around a guard or two and tossed them away like ragdolls. Thor. But it was too late. It's too late. They could be long gone already – she could be gone already. I should have done something. I have to do something. I will do something.

The burn returned, scalding the flesh of his wrists. It radiated into his hands and up his arms. His magic was so tightly leashed, with something of a choker collar no less. The more he struggled, the deeper its metal prongs were imbedded in his skin. There was only so far he could go. Already he feared what would happen if he strained any further, but he couldn't stop. His entire body was a unified burn, only growing hotter by the second until the guards were forced to release him and he dropped in a writhing heap to the floor. His flesh, normally cool or almost cold, turned searing hot as his blood boiled under his skin. A thin fog of steam condensed on the surface of his skin where fire met the crisp morning air.

And suddenly Thor's voice was clear. "Loki, it doesn't have to be this way. We can fix it! Brother, please!"

That agonizing heat penetrated his chest and his heart pounded erratically, threatening to escape the confines of his ribcage. It crawled up his neck – his veins pulsing uncomfortably. His throat constricted and his breath came in short and shallow gasps. He felt the blood in his throat – felt it pool in his lungs – seeping out of his organs as the constraint continued to destroy them. "Loki stop! This is madness! You can't do this!"

But I have to do this. I have to do something. He tried to focus on her as the pain intensified. He knew it. He remembered it. Had she not stopped him the last time, he would have assuredly killed himself. But I have to do something. I have to help her. I have to save her! And he would most assuredly kill himself. Everything was garbled in his ears all of the sudden. He could vaguely identify his brother's voice, but it was like he was suddenly distant. He lost the feeling in his limbs and for a moment he was submerged in a startling darkness, before his mind finally made its escape.

...

The old man's words were still ringing in Naomi's ears as the guards dragged her away. After many long months in that cell, observing Loki and his few interactions with supposed family members, she had made her assumptions about his complex situation. But it was worse than she thought. His father was unbelievably cruel. She wasn't totally surprised to hear that she had indeed been kidnapped for no reason. That revelation was dwarfed, almost insignificant, as she listened with teary eyes as his own brother and father criticized him at every turn, offering no reprieve. She had a brief moment of hope with his selfless words and a bold defense by his mother, but in the end, he was met with complete and utter rejection. No hope. And she was stunned with his response.

"Loki!" she called after him.

He fought so valiantly – aggressively. She'd never seen him like this. But confined to a cell with nothing necessary to fight for, she had only imagined the warrior he might be. Even at this distance and being persistently tugged upon, she saw how he danced around his adversaries, meeting each of them with strength unbecoming of his slender form. He had tried for the diplomacy, the slight of tongue he was known for – the silver tongue as he'd been called. But once more violence had become their only alternative.

Naomi didn't know what to expect of this. She silently prayed to be let off easy – to just take Loki and go without any further trouble or bloodshed. That was hardly the case. As the guards dragged her through the enormous golden doors, she heard him scream for her, but her reply was silenced by a large hand over her face yet again. Her jaws clamped down on a finger or two but he refused to release, even when she tasted blood. She screamed against the skin, whilst she clawed at anything she could reach until she was restrained with her arms completely outstretched. She was liable to break at the elbows as she continued to fight their hold.

She chomped down on another one of his fingers and at last, he released. But it had little to do with the bleeding teeth marks in his hand. With her arms abruptly released, she stumbled forward to her hands and knees. And there was Loki. He appeared out of nowhere, ambushing her escorts with a vengeance. He took no prisoners this time. Four guards dropped dead with four very well placed stabs. His dagger dripped with their combined blood. He stood over her, chest heaving, hands shaking, and looking absolutely lost. He sank down beside her, looking literally weighed down by so much armor and leather. She could see the god in him now, not that she'd bothered to question that up until now. His raven black hair was tamed like she'd hardly seen it. With that superficial once over, he seemed better, but he fell onto his hands with a sudden loss of energy.

She hurriedly crawled forward, snaking a hand around his wrist. He recoiled with a hiss, violently rubbing the place she'd barely touched. With a tiny mess of green haze and sparks, he shed the skin from his hands all the way up to his elbows. The cool, alabaster skin disappeared in little ashen pieces to reveal horrible lesions and burns that climbed up his very raw, red flesh. This isn't real. This isn't real! She reached forward again with the lightest touch she could manage. But this time her hand passed right through, but not without some subtle hint of sensation. She passed through his face twice before her hand met flesh again. And in that moment, he fought to hold this glamour. But his eyes turned bloodshot and he turned a sickly shade of white. His cheek was clammy under her fingertips.

"Naomi," he said quietly.

"Loki – you promised – you promised me you wouldn't do this – not again."

His smile was pained. "I promised you a great many things I'm afraid." He tugged her closer, his shaking hands tight around hers. He swallowed hard, the sound catching in his throat.

"You don't have to do this," she said hopefully.

His mind was very suddenly present, his eyes wide and panicked. "Yes. Yes I do." His grip on her hand was bruising. "Please listen. You have to run."

"What? Loki, no- "

"I need you to run. I know you remember the way. Follow the bridge to the end – the rainbow bridge. The gatekeeper, Hiemdall, he has seen what's happened today. I know he will understand. He will send you home." Naomi could only shake her head, tightening her grip in his fingers until the circulation completely disappeared. "I want nothing more than to see you safely home, but I'm afraid this is as far I can take you."

"Loki, please don't do this." Naomi clung to his presence here, to the point her fingernails dug into his jaw and dragged nervously up and down while her other hand ran through his sweat-dampened hair. For so long in his presence she had refused this – this contact, because she knew that it wasn't real. Not for him. Not for her. Not really. But he gave her no choice. She clung to him desperately. He wasn't saying goodbye. He just wasn't. This isn't goodbye! This is not how it ends. "Loki, please. Please don't."

"I have done what I had to, in order to keep at least one promise I've made to you. I promised I would protect you – no matter the cost." Her jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth would crack. "Please, Naomi. Don't wait. We don't have the time anymore." His voice seemed empty, the sounds merely an echo reverberating through the golden hall. His eyes further lost their color until she saw right through them – through him. Her hand fisted as the hand to which she held became little more than an illusion. "Loki!" But he was gone. With a whiff of ozone and a bright green burst of fog, he was gone. Gone? Gone.

Naomi took a moment to survey the carnage around her, the guards laid to waste in Loki's final act – his last stitch effort to protect her and to make amends for something that wasn't his fault. In spite of the blame put upon him by his would-be family, she didn't blame him. She couldn't. Nor would she after all they'd been through together. But beyond regret and shame, he had blinded himself with determination to get her home. Of all things, that was his directive. That was his last request. That was stupid. Sentimental and endearing, but so stupid.

For the longest time she'd thought of nothing but home. For the longest time, her thoughts were consumed by escape and freedom and a way back to the life that used to be. He showed her the way – he showed her the way home. She stood, her eyes tracing the path she couldn't see. Long winding halls until she escaped the palace to be met with an endlessly star-filled sky and the rainbow bridge. She could go home. I can go home. But every attempt to run left her feet further rooted to the ground. Her eyes found the place where Loki had been and they didn't move. Home wasn't quite where she left it.

He was willing to give his life for her to have a chance. Only a chance. He sacrificed himself – for me. I should be grateful. I can't waste his sacrifice. I can't. But I can't leave him. She finally lifted her gaze, this time back the way she'd come, to where Loki surely was. He wasn't dead. Not yet. Not yet. But she should run. He wanted her to run. He wanted her to go home, even if he couldn't take her there. She growled. "Now, of all times, you decide to be selfless!" Her voice bounced from arch to arch as far as she could hear. I can't leave him. "Fuck."

She lifted an enormous sword from the sheath of a fallen guard, the tip just scratching the polished stone as she heaved the thing to a slightly threatening stance before turning back for the hall she had only just escaped. If Loki did somehow survive this, he was probably going to kill her for what she was about to attempt.

Don't freak out! The next chapter has already been posted!