Everyone was silent. Everyone was still. And all in a way that made it seem like time had simply stopped. But the pause button had only gotten stuck and soon the grim reality of it would return. Naomi learned then that silence has a sound – a very definite sound. First it's a dull ringing: the absence of something truly audible, before everything else overwhelms it. A breath barely exhaled is as loud as a train whistle. A tiny sniffle sounds like an avalanche. Everything resonates so loudly, in ways it is worse than if hundreds of sounds fought over one another. Predominantly, the room was staring occupants, breathless and unbelieving. If stares had sound, she wondered. If stares had sound, hers would be screaming.

Loki lay on the floor, half curled on his side, his spine awkwardly twisted. She watched – watched closely until her eyes were dry – to spot the rise and fall of his chest. But it wasn't there. He didn't move. She into the room, half a step at a time, her wide eyes never leaving him. She gripped the hilt of the sword for dear life as she finally came close enough to see what had become of him. A perfect puddle of blood had accumulated around his face, no doubt staining his cheek where it was pressed against the floor. His eyes were still open, partially lidded, but their once vivid green was now diluted and pale and lifeless.

Naomi didn't take note of Thor's presence until she was nearly on top of him. She assumed the same of him the way he suddenly startled, though without much concern. He knelt beside his brother, hands fisted against each other in his lap. His eyes were wet. He didn't care about her or her previously unwelcome presence. No one moved to intercept her, even though they were all aware of her by now. Loki's shell of a body was the chilling center of everyone's attention. She hovered over him, the blade of the sword dragging slightly, her grip having slackened considerably. She watched him in silence as the others did, for an eternity it seemed, until she snapped back to her reality. This is real.

Turning to fully take in the mourning man beside her, she remembered. He kidnapped her. He brought her here. She saw the wounds in his arm that had led Loki to that conclusion. She noted their king on the dais – Loki's not-father – staring as wide-eyed and lost as the rest. And then there were all of the guards standing idly by. All of them, unmoving and useless. Her grip tightened, her hand fisted around her weapon. "Help him," she said. Her whisper echoed loudly in the quiet. "Somebody help him." Louder this time.

Thor looked up, the whole of him utterly defeated. "It's too late."

Without warning, she swung the sword and hit Thor square in the cheek. "It's not too late!" Surprisingly she had only nicked him under the eye, in spite of her concussive strength blow. He recoiled at her startling aggression, more so when she raised the blade again, threatening to inflict the proper damage this time. The few surviving guards seized her, but this time she would not be silenced. The sword slipped out of her hand and fell with a resounding clatter to the floor, the metal on marble ruckus snapping the entire room from its fog.

She squirmed until Loki's shirt tore and she slipped free, sliding swiftly to the floor at his side. She felt the guard's heavy hands again, threatening to steal her away. But not this time. Not this time. Loki's mother rushed to their aide, or so she suspected. But instead, miraculously, she settled in beside her, one hand gentle on Loki's side and the other quickly soothing the anger in her shoulders. The attempt only boiled her blood further, as she tugged Loki tighter into her grasp, fisting the wrinkled fabric of his shirt. But her maternal touch continued its crusade and Naomi heard her quiet voice over her shoulder, "Let her be."

The guards retreated.

Naomi tried to escape her as well, but she only moved closer. So Naomi ignored her instead. She turned Loki onto his back, grimacing when she saw the blood marring his beautiful pale white skin. She pressed his eyelids shut, the half-stare sickening her to look at. Pressing her ear to his chest she found no sound, no steady thump, no rise and fall, not even a gurgle. Nothing. "Loki?" she called quietly. Her hand brushed through his hair without response. "Loki, you promised me. You promised you wouldn't do this again." Loki's mother, the woman called Frigga, her soft and slightly aged hands moving up and down her arm. Her forearm would lose feeling before long at her pace. Already, she hardly felt it. She felt Loki's soft hair stick and knot around her fingers. She felt his skin, growing colder and more rigid. She felt reality – cruel fate – tugging on the hairs at the back of her neck. He's gone. But it burned her to even consider it. "I know you're still there – I know it. I know it."

She looked him up and down and her eyes latched onto his wrists and the shackles that bound him. And the wounds they'd inflicted. Burns not unlike her own. They reached under his sleeves until they surfaced again on his neck. Beneath his shirt, she was sure his entire torso was a mess of scalded flesh. She was afraid to touch him now, but she reached for the binders. They were like two bracelets, each with half of the chain still attached. The links at the end were tarnished and darker than the rest. A result of whatever magic he tried to use, no doubt. She tugged at them gently so as not to disturb his tortured wrists. But they didn't budge. Not even slightly.

She eyed Frigga with pleading eyes – desperation like she'd never felt before, as she continued to fidget with the shackles. Her blue eyes darkened, the vibrant glimmer of hope only a shadow now. It was understanding on a level Naomi wished she could reach. Whether she knew or not if he could be saved, she waved for one of the guards without saying a word. The moment the binders came free, she had hoped that he would simply wake up like nothing had happened, but he didn't move other than an involuntary shudder and a slight twitch at his wrists.

She further admired the wounds; the darker parts – the deepest parts – left a shadow of his incarceration. Her fingertips barely brushed it, hoping that he might shed his skin again. As his projection had concealed its hurt, she wished the wounds would wash away and leave him as he had been. But nothing happened. The burns were still warm, but the rest of him was cold and dead. She pulled at the collar of his shirt to see the true extent of the damage.

His veins were all marked with twisting paths of electric energy. Up his neck in whip-cracks and sickening swirls. She felt for his pulse again, before she trailed her hands to his heart. He thought it so black and empty and admittedly, for a time she thought so too. Every word from his mouth was a sharp and jagged stab, as cold and brittle as ice. But he hardly knew kindness – had never been shown friendship. And if the years preceding were anything like what she'd seen today, it was only fitting to reject anyone who even tried.

But there was something there. There was something within that bleak, black, tightly spun web of mayhem and misfortune worth fighting for.

Naomi looked Loki over again, knowing in the back of her mind that this wasn't the end. This is not goodbye. She dug the base of her palm into his sternum and put all of her recently lessened weight against it. He wasn't human and she wasn't strong. She had no idea if it would work – if it even could work – but she couldn't think of anything else to do. She could feel all of the uneven flesh beneath the weight of her hands – more burns. But she persisted, his body bouncing slightly with each compression. When nothing happened, she pressed harder. Harder until she was sure his sternum would crack. But she wasn't strong enough. The barely scabbed burn on her hand cracked, tore open and stung with devilish persistence. She tucked it aside and continued, though with even less effectiveness.

But in the end, his heart was still, his skin was cold – dead. Gone?

"I'm sorry that this is the way things had to be," the old man said at last, pulled from his self-induced fog. Naomi glanced up, tightly gritting her teeth until her entire jaw burned and beetling her eyebrows together until she was sure they'd be stuck. Sorry? He was sorry? Her entire body felt white hot as blood surged through her veins. She braced Loki's shirt in handfuls, feeling the rough skin crack under her hands. "Sorry?" Her voice was nothing more than a snarl that only Frigga could have possibly heard.

"Loki owed a debt, but I never thought he would give his own life to pay it." He quietly contemplated things again with the utmost despair and disbelief. "You're free to go," he said finally, making some dismissive gesture. "I will have my guards escort you home."

She made no move to leave. She only clung to Loki tighter and all the while barely withholding tears – or screams. But as this man – their king – retreated into this half-assed state of mourning and the guards moved to retrieve his body, she forgot her restraint. And everything came free.

"No!" she screamed, dragging Loki further into her and further out of their reach. "No. No. No!"

"He's gone, Naomi. You have to let him go," Frigga said quietly. Naomi shirked out of her grasp, arms wrapped around Loki's neck with her face pressed to his.

"This is what he wanted," the old man added.

Naomi looked up, the flesh around her eyes was red and raw, but her brown-eyed stare was piercing. "This – this is what he wanted?"

"He wanted you to return home – he gave his life so you could make it home alive. This is what he wanted."

"You didn't give him a choice!" She gave the closest guard a good shove as she screamed. "This – this is the ultimatum you left him with! It didn't have to be this way! You made it this way! How could you be so cruel? And to your own son, no less! Discipline I can understand. Justice I can understand. But not this! No one deserves this!" The Allfather steeled his expression almost as it had been before, but the weary and mourning edge remained. He opened his mouth to speak but in the end, he never found words. "I saw him down there," Naomi continued, her voice quieting only slightly. "I saw the side of him that you don't want to see – because you've abandoned it and to even think to accept it again isn't worth the effort. He's not a monster. He's a man – a god – whatever! And he hurts and he feels – he regrets. He's sorry. Why can't that be enough? What more must you put us through before you'll be satisfied?"

Odin was quiet, settling into his throne again looking completely spent. "I'm not going home – not without him." Not without you. Naomi pointlessly continued forcing compressions into his chest until her arms were visibly shaking. And until Frigga finally intervened. She stilled her hands with one of the saddest smiles she had ever seen. "It's not his heart, dear. It's his mind."

She only stared, the words not processing. His mother ran her fingers through his hair as Naomi imagined she'd done thoughtlessly for his entire life. Such a simple thing. She took one of his hands and brought it gently to her cheek, entangling his fingers in her messy curls. How many times had he done so himself? How many times had he never known what it felt like? How much did he really want to know? Enough that he was willing to die for it. His fingers were freezing – unresponsive – dead. It's not his heart. It's his mind. She stared at him; his brow was still slightly furrowed from his last stitch effort in life. It's in his mind.

She remembered this. She remembered this with gruesome clarity. Thirty long seconds of tortuous waiting. Waiting for him to wake up. Or waiting for nothing to happen at all. It's his mind. Or rather, it wasn't. Her eyes flashed around the room, as if she might find him floating around somewhere, his mind trapped in a limbo between its last place of residence and the original that lay dead on the floor. She imagined that green haze that often accompanied his magic. She imagined it caught in the subtle air currents, pulled in one direction or another, but ultimately lost in a realm all its own. The most terrifying emptiness.

"You said you wouldn't do this again," she said quietly. "You promised." She adjusted him in her lap, pulling him closer again. "But I know you're still here. I know it," she whispered, her voice cracking into a higher pitch. "And wherever you are, I know you can hear me. Please come back." She grit her teeth, attempting to smother the sobs that had already started to shake her. "Please – please don't leave me." But Loki was quiet, lips gently parted with the stretch of his neck, but no matter the silence she waited and waited to hear him breathe again. To hear anything. To be hushed again by his soothing tone. To hear words of comfort once so foreign to him. She would have settled even for the cold and stabbing jests that had preceded all of this – words ill spoken without much thought.

But there was nothing.

It's not fair, she thought. This isn't fair. It was finally real. They were finally together. She could reach for him, press her hands to his skin, but – but he wasn't there to feel it. Same as before. "Loki. Loki, I'm here now," she began again, clearing her throat. "We're together now – you have to wake up. Please – you have to wake up." She leaned closer, almost hesitantly, before she brought their lips together, remembering with painful clarity their last kiss that almost was. She remembered his soft but insistent pull, warding away her anxiety, his lips quickly warming against hers. But they were cold this time, dry and cracked and she tasted blood. She kissed him over and over again, each time harsher than the one before. "Come on, Loki, wake up." She pressed kisses to his neck and his cheek and his forehead. Everywhere. Losing her composure more and more as he failed to respond. "Dammit, Loki!" She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, his head nearly hitting the marble. "You promised you would protect me! You promised you'd be there for me! Loki, you promised! Now wake up you fucking liar!" She was one short swing from bruising his jaw when he finally stirred.

If she had blinked at that moment she might have missed it, but she saw it. She waited, eyes wide and nearly stuck that way, praying it hadn't been her imagination. Praying that this was real. His eyes pinched shut a little tighter and he stiffened in her grasp, his fingers twitching just slightly. Come on – come on, Loki. I know you're there. Just a little further. She saw the sudden struggle in his face, the fight to accept this world again. She grabbed his hand, tightly twining their fingers as he started to shake. "Come on, Loki. Come back," she chanted quietly through gritted teeth. She ran her finger along his lip and chin and wiped the blood on her already ruined shorts. She rubbed insistently at the stains on his cheek and forehead, unsuccessfully clearing the skin. Anything to quicken the wait for him to finally wake again.

She felt a familiar energy, one she'd come to identify with his magic. It suddenly swelled in his chest, filling his lungs until it finally broke the seal and he gave a long raspy breath that made his entire body shake, convulse nearly. His chest rose high and his back arched off of her lap. His heart thumped wildly as he coughed the last of the blood from his throat. And then his eyes finally opened, their vibrant green nearly restored. Before he was completely coherent, his grip clenched around her hand and his other hand blindly searched for her, clamping onto whatever he could find. He dragged her closer, his nails raking against her back, desperate as ever to keep her there. She was soon flush against his very burnt chest, but even then he was scrambling to bring her closer, his grip tightening almost to the point of pain. But her mind was numb to nearly everything then, save for Loki's very firm heartbeat pounding against her chest. "I knew you were alive," she cried, the sound muffled by sobs and fabric. "I knew it."

"Naomi – I'm so sorry," Loki said, his voice raw and hoarse. "I'm so so sorry." His hand braced her jaw as he returned her kiss – every single one, over and over again until her skin was completely flushed. "I'm so sorry, Naomi. I – I didn't know what else to do."

Naomi smiled, managing a short laugh that sounded more like a hiccup. "I think I liked you better before you turned into a selfless idiot." She wiped her face on her free hand, before she braced him roughly at his collar, his body gravitating naturally towards her touch. She brought as much of her usual grit to the fore as she glared at him. "Stop trying to kill yourself or I swear to god I'm going to do it myself."

Loki continued smiling, clearly unfazed by her empty threat as he leaned up and kissed her again. His hands shook where they met her skin but she relished even the tiniest sensation. She watched him, noting the pain etched in his features, so carelessly smoothed over with a look of peace she'd never known of him. But it was something she'd always wished was there. His tired eyes watched her, even when his mother returned, speaking softly, tending to the wounds his magic had neglected. And in that moment when the world slowed, she met him in that temporary place of peace, a void among the chaos and the horrors that had surrounded them for so long. For a moment, it was perfect – her hand in his, his thumb tracing symbols in the back of her hand, her gaze trapped in his, a soft smile playing at his lips, silence, safety – before reality dragged them back again.

Her line of sight to him obscured, slowly her gaze found Odin again. And then her blood boiled and her skin crawled. And her world was reduced to a new, yet familiar emotion.

Loki may be alive, but that will never make you less at fault, her thoughts growled with undercurrents of aggression that made even her blood still. She could feel in her heart, that had she the means, she would gut him where he stood. Loki never told her what he did to the guard that had attacked her, but the evisceration she imagined seemed the only fitting punishment now. He looked upon them with weary eyes, and his age clear upon his face – half standing, half slumped upon his throne. His attention alone disgusted her. I've wished death on many in jest before, but for you, I would sell my soul to see you rot. See you suffer forever.

See you pay for what you've done.

Naomi turned, almost startled from her thoughts when Loki's hand tightened around hers, his eyes following her heated gaze before that cool and calculating façade returned. He moved to finally stand again, aided by his mother, and with Naomi pressed against him, eyeing Odin like a very irritated guard dog. She had both the bark and the bite if necessary. In her periphery she saw him usher his mother aside, more than likely assuring her he would survive whatever happened next. Naomi wanted nothing less than slaughter, but the look she found on Loki's face spoke volumes of something entirely different. It wasn't quite defeat. No. Not that. But his features lacked the proud and regal edge they'd held for so long. She saw him literally swallow his pride, the idea settling in waves of exhaustion that eroded every mask he'd ever worn until he was left completely exposed.

"Allfather," he began, his voice as steady as he could keep it. "Hear what I have to say." The old man was still quiet, his softened gaze drifting elsewhere, lost in thoughts not worth exploring. "Had it ever been my intent to make amends, you have shown me that it would not be worth my effort. There is not a thing more I could have done. Everything I ever did for so long I did in a vain attempt to meet your expectations. To win your damn affections. But I've nothing left to prove to you. There is a part of me that wishes to thank you. Your act of torment was a gift I hardly deserved. But the more dominant half of me wants nothing more than to see you dead – too see you suffer for everything you've done to me. But more than anything, I want to see Naomi home as I promised her."

Odin looked up after a moment, eyebrows knotted like he'd completely forgotten they were there. And regaining only a smidgen of composure he spoke again. "My word still stands. She is free to go."

But not without him! Naomi tugged on Loki's hand. Her freedom wasn't enough. Déjà vu crept into the corners of her vision. "And what of my sentence," Loki quickly inquired, his cool composure keeping her anxiety smothered. But Loki didn't breathe as he waited – as they waited – for the verdict that would change everything – that could destroy everything. But Naomi saw it, maybe even before Loki did. The old man didn't have the fight anymore.

"You take her home. You return here – you serve final terms. And then I will end your captivity," he said quietly, the argument gone from his voice as he sank deeper into the throne.

"Can I wait until morning?" His voice was so quiet it only just reached him.

Loki's hand shook in hers as the moments passed without his response. Odin was quiet, contemplating with an undertone of illness she couldn't place. But it was only the second worse silence of the afternoon. "Just go," Odin said. Loki moved to inquire of his vague reply, but the old man's aura turned from pain to palpable insanity in a second. "I said go! Take my generosity for what it is, before I change my mind!" Gungnir booming against the dais, the entire room dispersed.

The guards fell back into their stead. Frigga, with a knowing almost-smile towards Loki, returned to Odin's side for a conversation not worth overhearing. Loki rushed them from the room, having received the only permission he needed. And then there was Thor standing idly where he had been since Naomi had turned the entire room on its head. But as Loki passed, gifting him with a customary sneer, he finally moved.

"Brother, I need to speak with you." He reached for Loki, but he shirked away, tugging Naomi behind him.

"Then speak," he growled.

Twiddling his large hands absently, he began in a voice so small for his hulking form. "I do apologize for all of this, Loki. But I want you to know that I only agreed to this – I only took her because father told me it might mean your freedom. It was not made known to me what she would suffer down there. But I have heard rumors of-"

"Matters we need not address," Loki snapped.

"I didn't know. Had I known, I would never have agreed to this. You know – of all people – I don't have the heart for it. But I suppose I thought it might help. I recalled my time spent among the people of Midgard. I thought perhaps-"

"I know what you thought, you saccharine oaf. I won't thank you, but know in some twisted context that I am grateful." Thor pulled a tiny smile, because that was as much an expression of gratitude as Loki could probably manage. Where his brother was concerned at least. Or perhaps only where I am concerned.

Even still, he offered his brother a nod before hurrying off again. "Thank you, Miss Naomi, for what you've done for my brother."

Naomi glanced over her shoulder to acknowledge his thankful and apologetic smile with a glare that barely conceded acceptance. "I'm not sorry for hitting you in the face." She heard Loki almost laugh, wrapping his arm around her waist. But when she glanced up at him again, his expression was just tired. Naomi clung to him as they finally made their escape, content in that moment that he was there – that he could be there for one more night – but only one more night.

Well there you have it. Freedom! Sort of? Let me know what you thought! Posting these two chapters in particular has terrified me since the beginning… Too much? Not enough? Not the just end you'd hoped for? Whatever. It is what it is! But I'd still like to know what you thought! Teeanks everyone for reading! And sorry again for the wait! XOXO

ADDITIONAL IMPORTANT NOTE: THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET! I am getting panicked messages and I'm like wha? The stories not over yet? Wha? Who ends a story like this?! That'd be absolutely awful! Who hurt you guys?! There are at least two more chapters to go. Everybody just calm down. This story will be properly ended in due time and then more than likely followed by a sequel. So everybody just calm down! Is okay. All right… now back to your regularly scheduled programming.