A/N: Don't own don't sue

Lyrics at the beginning are from 'If I Knew' by Bruno Mars

If I Knew

Chapter Sixteen

I was a city boy
Right into danger's where I'd always run, a boy who had his fun
But I wouldn't've done
All the things that I have done
If I knew one day you'd come

Eira had expected to have another sleepless night after the revelation, but her body and mind had remained numb which had allowed her to rest. She had slept through supper, assuming the Court believed her too grieved at being unable to return home, to dine. She had woken late, or early depending on how you looked at it, and had changed and washed her hands and face.

She called for some food to be brought and made quick work of the fruit and warm bread she was delivered. Then she waited. She knew he would come. Now that he had revealed himself to her, he would not be able to resist boasting of his genius. She waited and continued to wait. The longer she waited, the more her anger burned in her stomach. By the time he flung open the door to her chambers, without even the dignity of a respectful knock, she was downright furious. In the blink of an eye, the facade vanished and he stood before her in all his arrogant glory.

The brief image of him as she had last seen him, broken and lost, flickered through her mind. He stood before her as he was meant to be, handsome and proud. Alive. She wanted very much to punch him.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Loki blinked, cocking his head to the side. That was not the reaction he had anticipated.

"What are you hoping to accomplish?"

Her face was flushed, her chest was heaving and her eyes were flashing. He saw her mouth moving as she cursed at him but he took no care to listen to her lecture.

"You are bewitching when you're angry, nightingale."

Cut off and surprised, Eira broke off her tirade and stared at him. He stood there staring at her in amusement, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Stuff your flattery, Prince." She snarled, her anger increasing as her belly fluttered at his compliment.

"That is hardly a fitting manner in which to address one's sovereign." Loki pointed out merrily.

"It is when one's sovereign is an irksome imposter." She hissed, stamping her foot for good measure.

Loki tilted his head back and laughed. Eira wanted to strangle him. He looked so handsome and alive, his wicked blue eyes glittering and his sensuous mouth lifted in a smirk. With a great deal of effort, Eira forced herself to calm down a fraction.

"What are you doing, Loki?"

The use of his given name seemed to sober the mischievous Prince and he studied her in silence. She was as stunning as ever; her hair like liquid fire coiled at the nape of her neck, her brilliant green cat eyes watching him intently, the dark silver dress emphasising the curves of her body and the smooth porcelain of her skin. He had missed her. It was a shock to his system, but he knew it was true. He had grown accustomed to her visits, her songs and her bad attitude. Not one other person in this world had the courage to stand up to him the way she did.

"Where is the King? Did you kill him?" She asked bluntly, as if to prove his point.

Loki's smile dropped. He took a step towards her, closing the distance between them. As expected, she held her ground and lifted her chin defiantly.

"Do you believe so?"

She stared at him for an interminably long time, her fierce gaze piercing straight through him as if she could see into his soul. Eventually he saw something shift behind her eyes and the firm line of her mouth softened.

"No." She looked away from him, colour creeping into her cheeks.

Loki felt some of the tension that had built in his shoulders release. Not by the flicker of an eyelash did he betray how much it meant to him that she did not believe he would do that. The rest of Asgard would believe it in an instant, of that he was certain.

"Fine. So the King disappears and you take the throne. To the world, you are your father." She was staring fixedly at his chest, as if she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "You got what you always wanted." She worried her lower lip for a moment, picking her nail absently. "Why play games with me?"

Loki stared at the top of her head. He honestly believed that if he simply told her he was the God of tricks and mischief, she would punch him. Royalty or no.

"I mean it, Prince." There was steel in her voice and Loki felt his humour draining away. "Making me sing to you before the Court, whispering in my ear wearing your father's face, calling me that name-"

She jerked her head back suddenly and her eyes were blazing. With a flash of insight, Loki realised that he had hurt her. What had been a fun game to him had been cruel to her. Loki felt a flicker of shame, which automatically made him defensive.

"All a game, nightingale. All in good fun." He said sulkily, looking very much like a child who had been caught with his hand in the treat jar.

Her mouth twisted and she pushed him away from her sharply.

"When will you learn, Prince of Asgard." She sneered derisively. "That people are not possessions to be toyed with."

Her hands were clenched into fists, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she backed away from him. He could see from the set of her mouth and the arch of her neck that she was absolutely furious.

"I thought you were dead." She screamed suddenly when he stepped towards her and he flinched back in surprise. "I – I thought you were dead."

She let out a wail of anger and shoved him away from her, whirling towards the door. She was so furious that she was moving with remarkable speed and she already had the door half open when Loki caught her. He kicked the door shut with a thud, grabbed her by the arms and spun her around. She glared at him with such hatred that he couldn't help himself. He slammed her back against the door and his mouth crashed down on hers. She struggled against him like a wildcat, curses streaming against his lips and her nails clawing at his silk tunic. Somewhere along the way her struggles became something else and her mouth softened beneath his. Suddenly she was clinging to him, her hands fisted into his black tunic, and he could taste the salt of her tears.

"I hate you." She murmured, resting her hot forehead against his chest.

"That's a remarkable number of tears, for someone you claim to hate so vehemently."

She shook against him in something caught between laughter and tears.

"I did hate you. For a while. When I thought you'd gotten yourself killed trying to be some stupid, ridiculous, noble hero. Something both of us know you are not."

"A noble hero?" He sniffed in a thoroughly affronted tone.

"Stupid."

Loki looked slightly mollified.

"And how did you take the news of my death?" He asked her curiously, imagining her tearing her dress in her grief and screaming at the vaulted ceiling of the palace.

"With grace. I had little choice but to keep my dignity; the Prince informed me."

Loki was shaken out of his musings by this piece of information.

"Thor?" He clarified, although there were no other princes she could be referring to. "My brother came to inform you of my heroic death?"

She ignored that, lifting her head and studying his face. He was deep in thought, his vivid imagination running wild with visions of her resting her scarlet head on his brother's broad shoulder as she wept over his brave death.

"Yes. I imagine he knew far more of what went on during your imprisonment than you believe." Loki lifted his eyebrows. "He was… kind."

Loki frowned, his brow dropping until he looked quite dangerous. She could read quite clearly that he was wondering just how kind his brother had been to her and she chose not to comment, as punishment for his cruelty. The truth was Prince Thor had been nothing but courteous and polite, the very image of chivalry. Quite dull. He had found her on the Queen's balcony, sitting on the sun-drenched ground poring over a book from the Queen's private bookshelves. She had frozen as she recognised the shadow looming over her. Technically she should not be in the Queen's chambers. Thor had not berated her for her presence, however. He had seated himself awkwardly on the cushioned bench and told her in a low faltering voice of his brother's sacrifice. She had thanked him graciously for taking the time to inform her personally and had withdrawn to her own chambers. Where she had proceeded to sob her broken heart into her pillow throughout the night.

She had no intention of telling him any of that, however.

He was still gripping her arms but his hold had relaxed somewhat and she slumped back against the door. Her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling feverishly, her mouth pursed as she stared at him. Her heart was thumping painfully against her ribs as he looked back at her, his midnight blue eyes almost opaque. Without saying a word, Loki reached up. His nimble fingers slipped into the curls of her hair and located the pins holding it in place. As he tugged the pins from her hair, the molten waves tumbled down over her shoulders, piece by piece. Loki coiled her silken curls around his fingers, watching the golden strands shimmering through the red as the torchlight played over them. Tentatively, Eira reached up and traced the curve of his hair where it swept his shoulder. His hair was surprisingly soft beneath her fingertips as she ran her fingers through it, the strands so black she half expected her fingers to be stained.

She was so busy staring at her pale fingers weaving through his black locks, that he had to touch her chin to tilt her head back up towards him. She smiled at the impatience on his face, tracing her fingers over his stubbornly pouting lips. He dropped his mouth to hers again, this time softer and teasing. She coiled her arms around his neck, her fingers weaving into his hair as their mouths moved gently together, curious and exploratory.

"Well." He murmured smugly as she braced herself against the door, her chest rising and falling rapidly and her eyes cast down. "Do you still hate me?"

She tilted her head slightly and her hair spilled over her cheek.

"Certainly, Prince." She stared up at him challengingly. "You are capricious, arrogant, vengeful and sly. You have a much inflated sense of your own importance and you drive me to utter distraction. You enrage me more than I had ever imagined a person could." She watched various emotions flash across his face as she spoke. "And yet…"

His eyebrows lifted and his mouth curled into that infuriating smirk that simultaneously made her chest burn with irritation and her stomach flutter with desire.

"And you, my little nightingale." Loki smiled sweetly, his hands barely lingering on her throat. "You are an impertinent, impetuous, overly opinionated, devious little harridan who occupies my mind more than any woman has for over a thousand years. There is not one conversation we have ever had where I have not pondered how delightful it would be to silence you once and for all." Loki leaned over her until his lips hovered mere millimetres above hers. "And yet…"

"And yet." Eira repeated, twisting her fingers into his long hair and tugging lightly. "Here we are."

Loki cocked his head, his brilliant blue eyes alive with desire and amusement and his mouth wide in a genuine bone-melting grin that made her toes curl. Eira was exceptionally glad that the door was holding her up as the sight of him giving her a genuine smile with no calculation behind it had dissolved her knees.

"Yes. Here we are."

Loki lifted an eyebrow and Eira forced herself not to look in the direction of her bed, looming temptingly in the corner of her eye. She did not know where they went from here. They had always had a limited amount of time together, an excuse for never taking a step across that line. There had always been a safety net, the ever-present knowledge that they were being watched. But now… now those safety measures had been stripped away and she felt quite naked without them.

As if he could read her thoughts, his wicked eyes darkened and colour crept into his cheeks. He contemplated for a long, long moment. He wanted her. He fiercely wanted to throw her back against that door and hitch up her silken skirts… but the Court was rising around them. Servants were scurrying through the hallways to dress and bathe their lazy masters, tantalizing scents of the food being laid out in the hall for them to break their fast were just tangible on the air. He was painfully impatient but he hated to be rushed. No. When he finally got what he wanted… he would take his time and savour every second of it.

He drew away from her and she shivered, forcing herself to push away from the door and steady herself on her own feet again.

"Duty calls, love."

Her face darkened and she looked away from him.

"Do as you must, Prince." She shrugged coolly, stepping away from him. "But do not toy with me wearing that face."

Loki bristled at the order but she turned her fierce gaze back on him and he knew this was the line he must not cross for her. Every fibre of his stubborn mischievous being prodded him to dance over that line as easily as he always did, but he quashed the impulse. He could see in the tightness of her face, the tilt of her chin and the set of her jaw that she would walk away from him over this. He pouted.

"Very well, nightingale." He sighed magnanimously. "Be a spoilsport, if you must."

He put on his very best sulky face, one that deliberately emphasised the shape of his lips and the colour of his eyes. She was not moved. Or, if she was, she did not show it and he grinned happily.

"You will be expected at Court today, Lady Eira." He said in his father's voice and she glared at him.

He slid out of her rooms gleefully, shimmering back into the King's image and sauntering towards the Hall.