Loki wrapped a strong arm around Reagan's waist and pulled her body flush against his. As her breasts pressed against his naked chest she moaned gently into his mouth. He kissed her deeply, possessively, taking hold of her jaw to allow him better access to her.
Drawing her closer.
Closer.
Always needing to be closer.
"Loki..." she whispered, her voice laced with lust. She refused to let him go for even a moment as he lifted her and laid her down on the mattress, crawling over her painfully slowly, engulfing her.
When Loki parted her thighs with his, she opened up for him willingly and he settled there at her apex, grinding against her, with no intention of parting from her again any time soon. As he loomed over her, he moved to trail his lips down her throat. Licking, sucking, biting. Sure to leave a dusting of markings in his wake.
The sensation caused Reagan to dig her nails into the muscular flesh of his shoulders and he growled approvingly in response against her throat.
"Mine..." he hummed against her pulse point. He held his weight up on one elbow to keep from crushing her while his other hand kneaded possessively at her thigh, guiding her leg up to wrap around his waist.
Her hands trailed over the swell of his shoulders and up the back of his neck to tangle tenderly into his hair, holding him close to her as she leaned her face into the warmth of his neck. She inhaled his scent. Cedarwood. Amber. Home.
"Yours..." she whispered back.
It sounded like a promise.
She gasped as his fingers entered her then and he pulled her closer still, nuzzling his head against the curve of her jaw, kissing the skin there reverently as he toyed with her.
He pulled away from her ever so slightly then and when she opened her eyes, his gaze was already on her, his pupils blown wide with a mixture of lust and adoration. Tenderness burst in her chest. She brushed her fingertips over his cheekbone and he turned into her touch to kiss her palm.
"Loki... I think I..."
"It's alright, darling," he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder. "I have you."
Reagan wrapped her arms around him, melting into him, as he drew himself up over her. He pressed his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes. He withdrew his hand from her slowly and she whimpered at the feeling of emptiness for only a moment before he captured her lips with his once again and slowly sunk himself into her-
Reagan awoke with a jolt and sat bolt upright in her bed, gasping for breath as she was ripped suddenly from her deep state of sleep. She looked around wildly - reached out in the bed for him, only to discover cold, empty sheets before she remembered that she was, of course, alone.
"Holy shit," she breathed as she pressed her hand to her chest as if to calm her racing heart. "Well, that's definitely new..."
As the vivid images of the dream slowly faded and she returned more resolutely to a state of consciousness, Reagan gazed around the room, attempting to orient herself. Confirming that it had beena dream.
It was midnight-dark except for the faint glow of a few last dying embers in the fireplace. She kicked her blankets off hurriedly, trying to calm down. Sweat beaded on her chest and her hands trembled ever so slightly. And aching want pooled between her legs. She clenched her thighs together as she pushed her hair back out of her face, still breathing shakily.
It was like she could still feel his hands on her, his mouth, all over her. It had seemed so real... It had felt like being owned by him. And she'd given herself over so willingly. She'd wanted it.
She had no idea what had woken her, she only knew that Loki's touch had felt-
"Oh god..." Reagan breathed out loud as a chill swept suddenly through her stomach.
Loki.
Dread filled her instantly, knowing all too well what she was going to find when she reached down the bond. It came as no surprise to her when she brushed against a familiar icy barrier held firmly and impenetrably in place. Unyielding. Resolute.
"Oh no..." she groaned out loud, flopping back against her pillows and burying her face in her palms shamefully. "No, no, no, no, no..."
He'd seen.
He'd seen what she was dreaming.
Dreaming about him.
"Control Z," she whined, begging the universe to undo what had just happened.
She wanted to sink into her mattress and disappear forever. She wanted to die. He was never going to let her forget about this. The torment she undoubtedly would have to face when he brought his shields down would be-
A wave of nausea swept through her as realisation struck.
No. It was worse than that.
Far worse.
He hadn't woken her to taunt her about what he'd seen. He hadn't laughed with glee and made thoroughly embarrassing jokes at her expense. He hadn't gone into painstaking detail about exactly how badly she clearly wanted him, lording it over her with that trademark smirk of his that she sometimes just wanted to slap right off his face.
No... He'd inadvertently woken her by slamming his shields down with alarming force.
What had he thought when he'd seen it?
Why had it been enough to cause him to freeze her out again?
Her stomach twisted horribly. She couldn't believe this was happening. She also couldn't believehe hadn't found it funny. But that just meant... if he hadn't found it funny, if he hadn't wanted to tease her about it mercilessly, then that just left... disgust.
The very thought of it caused her eyes to prickle with the threat of tears. Sure, their relationship had become something... more. Undeniably. They had a deeper connection than she'd ever imagined they'd have any hope of developing. To her great surprise, she cared about him. Genuinely. And she was so sure that he cared about her too.
But she was still a mortal. She was Midgardian. And she knew the contempt Loki had for her kind, whether or not she'd convinced him to admit he was amused by a few people she'd told her stupid little stories about to try and make him laugh.
She tried for a moment to imagine herself from his perspective. He'd been raised in a world of perfection and beauty and refinement. He had physical strength and magical power she could barely even comprehend. His lifespan would stretch out over centuries and centuries when she had, what, eighty short years?
She could only liken it to how it might feel if she made friends with a fly.
And then discovered that that fly had a sex dream about her.
She buried her face in her pillow and groaned dramatically.
She wanted.
To die.
And yet, there was still a small part of her that couldn't help to let her mind wander back to the images that had all but assaulted her in her sleep. That small, weak part of her that wanted to return to that dream world - to allow her fingers to travel down to where they were aching to be and to allow herself to indulge in the sensation of his mouth, hot on her neck. His tongue sweeping over hers. His hands pawing at her, needing to feel her, holding her possessively...
Reagan threw back her covers and leapt from her bed, hastily making her way into her washroom to have an incredibly cold shower. There was no fucking way she was going to risk him bringing down his shields unannounced just to catch her actually acting those images.
Despite her best attempts, Reagan failed to accomplish anything even close to resembling sleep for the rest of the night and by the time the first rays of sun pierced the darkness of her chambers, she was already dressed and ready for the day.
Loki's shields, of course, did not budge. And so she was overwhelmingly grateful that the day ahead offered such significant distraction. The Tournament of the Convergence was set to begin and all of Asgard was taking to the Gungnir Arena - the largest stadium in all of Asgard where the Allfather himself would oversee the events.
The moment she left her chambers she felt the hum of excitement in the air. Every hallway in the palace was alive with chatter and activity. Reagan weaved her way through the crowd picking up idle snippets of conversation as she passed. She mercifully didn't spot any familiar faces - most of which, she was avoiding since she'd revealed to Fandral she'd inadvertently been helping Loki to spy on their goings on. She normally wouldn't have minded. She normally would have had company regardless. How strange it was to be alone in her own head.
It had become a foreign feeling, to have her questions go unanswered - just thinking them into a void... rather than Loki responding to her.
An ache of longing passed through her. One she didn't quite have the heart to reject.
It seemed like everyone in all of Asgard was present. Well, everyone except-
She forced herself to focus on the bustling crowd around her, the very thought of him causing flashes of skin-on-skin to flood through her mind. The idea - the possibility - that any given moment he could re-enter her mind just to discover her thinking about that... she shuddered at the thought.
She was so desperate to find a distraction, that she was almost glad when the last person she ever wanted to interact with again found that to be the perfect moment to approach her in amongst the busy crowd.
Again, almost glad.
"Well, well. If it isn't the Midgardian."
Even in the thrum of conversation and movement and activity, Reagan's skin began to crawl at the familiar lilting voice that sounded from behind her. She set her jaw as she turned to face him, refusing to let him see even a whisper of discomfort in her.
"Hello Halvor," she said evenly, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
It was strange, he still wore that smile he'd worn when she'd first met him - far too warm. Far too smarmy. But before, perhaps loneliness had allowed her to read it as sincere. She'd been so out of place in Asgard amongst all these immortals - so desperate for kindness that she'd allowed herself to just believe that was what he was offering her. She'd been vulnerable. Until he'd tried to drug her. Put his hands on her. Until Loki - who had wanted her dead at the time - had warned her to get away. And now it was so much easier to see. She felt so stupid for not realising it sooner.
His strange interest in her - the way he sought her out.
There was something waspy to the way he watched her. Like he was trying to come across as a predator.
He was flanked by two other men, neither of whom she'd ever seen before. She kept her gaze resolutely on him.
He wanted her frightened.
She wouldn't give him that.
And she wondered vaguely if he could sense that she was alone in her own mind.
Was there something about the open link with Loki, some sort of unseen energy humming between them, that had kept her safe from Halvor until this moment?
Why was it only now that he'd chosen to approach her?
It didn't matter.
She would not show this slimeball her fear.
Despite Loki's shields already being held firmly in place, Reagan swiftly raised her own. She didn't want him sensing her distress - she didn't want him rushing to her rescue, as she was rather certain he would - despite the mortifying images she'd forced him to witness. She could deal with Halvor herself. She wanted that. She needed it.
"I've been thinking about you a lot, Reagan," Halvor told her as he moved closer.
Everything in her screamed at her to take a step away to keep that distance between them, but she refused to back down to him. He loomed over her, so much larger than she remembered.
"Yeah, I imagine it would have been difficult not to, with your hands all blistered up the way there were. All healed up now?"
She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch in annoyance and he took another step towards her. The way his eyes raked over her made her want to shudder in disgust. It was crude - invasive. It left her feeling violated.
"Pretty little mortal thing," he said, leaning dangerously close to her. His eyes still roaming over her features. "It's so peculiar how fleetingly short your lifespan is. I can practically see you aging before my very eyes..."
He reached up as if he were about to brush his knuckles against her cheekbone.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked coolly. "I warned you what would happen if you ever touched me again."
His hand stilled and she watched as his eyes grew dark. She could read it all over his face - the indignity that this mortal dared to threaten him. In a crowd full of onlookers, no less, as if it hadn't been he who approached her.
"You attacked me once," he murmured, only loud enough for her to hear. "And I allowed you to live. Don't make the mistake of thinking such an event will pass for a second time."
"I attacked you..." Reagan repeated incredulously, staring up at him.
"When I rejected your advances," Halvor confirmed.
"When you-" her own sentence was cut short by a surprised burst of laughter.
The blonde man glowered at her, pure outrage twisting at his features.
"Jesus, you really believe that, don't you? You are batshit insane."
She could see the suppressed rage in him, even as he tried to replace it with a sneer. Every word she spoke made her situation worse. Every jab at him made the interaction more deadly. They both knew it - that she was pushing him. And it was so very reckless but she found that she didn't quite care, she was not about to back down.
"All this false bravado," he muttered. "Parading around like you're untouchable, all because you belong to the trickster."
Reagan's stomach twisted uncomfortably as an image flashed through her mind against her will. Loki's hands on her waist, his face buried in her neck where he lapped at her skin.
Mine... Loki had whispered against her throat.
Yours... she had promised in return.
She forced the thought away even as it caused a wave of heat to flush its way up her neck. Forced herself to focus.
"I don't belong to anyone, Halvor," she said adamantly. "I've told you that before."
"Really?" Halvor sneered at her cruelly, and for a moment she wondered if he'd gleaned that last, treacherous thought from her mind. "You know, we've all heard the rumours that you've been visiting the prince's castle. People say that they've seen you laughing to yourself. Whispering, as if talking to a ghost. They think you carry the dark prince with you. Are you really so sure you don't belong to him?"
Reagan didn't answer, she just stared up at him defiantly, her jaw set.
Mine...
Yours...
"You think you're safe. That you can do whatever you want because of who your master is-"
Reagan bristled at the very idea of this putrid excuse for a man suggesting she had a master.
"-but you forget, he's locked away a thousand feet below us right now. He can't help you."
"I don't need anyone's help to deal with you," she promised, steadily.
Halvor let out a low laugh in response.
"Please... You're weak. You're mortal. All I'd have to do is reach out a hand and I could crush your windpipe with a mere pinch of my fingers. That's all it would take."
Reagan's eyes narrowed.
"Maybe. But that's only if I don't incinerate every last tendon in your hand first. I'll cook your fucking bone marrow, Halvor, before you ever have a chance to lay a finger on me."
He smiled, almost manically.
"So it's a race, then," he murmured, and her heart began to thunder in her chest. Behind him, his friends moved closer.
You're made of fire, she reminded herself as heatwaves began to ascend from her shoulders. It bends to you.
"It's a race," she agreed calmly, gritting her teeth.
The pair eyed each other down - unblinking, unmoving - waiting for the other to so much as hint at making the first draw.
"Oi!" A gruff voice called suddenly, cutting through the tension.
All three of the Asgardian men who towered over her looked towards the owner of the voice. Reagan didn't budge. She couldn't afford to. It came from directly behind her. She kept her eyes trained on Halvor.
A heavy hand suddenly clapped down on her shoulder, rocking her entire body, startling her slightly. She glanced beside her quickly to find another armoured Asgardian. He was unfamiliar to her. A broad man, in heavy-looking armour. Two large matching crescents were tattooed onto his bald head. And though there was something menacing about him, he offered her a warm look.
"There you are," the man said to her lightly, with such genuine familiarity that for a moment he almost fooled her into thinking she should recognise him. "Been saving you a seat. Come on, the others are waiting for us. We don't want to miss anything."
He smiled at her reassuringly before turning his attention to Halvor and the others, as if only just noticing them for the first time. It was only then that his expression darkened slightly.
"Gentleman," he inclined his head to them. "Not interrupting anything important, I hope."
"Not at all," Halvor said coolly, his gaze returning to Reagan once more. "Nothing that can't wait until later."
She returned his icy glare.
"Weren't you competing today, Halvor?" the man beside her asked then, and Reagan noted a certain malice in his tone then. "They just announced your category. Wouldn't want you to miss your prize fight, mate. Heard you placed quite the wager on yourself. Can't let that go to waste."
The stranger kept his hand on Reagan's shoulder. It wasn't a harsh grip, but it was enough for her to realise he was holding her back, silently telling her to refrain from- well, from whatever she intended to do.
Painfully long seconds passed before Halvor retreated a few steps, still glaring daggers at Reagan, he inclined his head to the others who stood with him and together they turned, disappearing into the thick of the crowd. It wasn't until she could no longer see him at all that Reagan sucked in a deep, steadying breath, willing away the clenching sickness in her stomach.
The stranger's hand, at last, fell away from her shoulder. She looked up at him and he gestured in the other direction - away from Halvor.
"Come on," he muttered. "Let's get out of here before the dickhead changes his mind."
Seeing no better course of action, Reagan allowed the man to steer her through the crowd, intermittently glancing over her shoulder to ensure the blonde had not followed them.
"Thanks for your help," she said at last, wrapping her arms around herself.
"No worries, love," he replied, still surveying the crowd cautiously. "Just keep walking for now. Act natural, yeah?"
"Okay, sure. But, uh... do you mind telling me who you are?"
"The name's Skurge," he told her, glancing in her direction. When he saw the way Reagan watched him expectantly he went on. "I heard that prick saying earlier he was going to rustle up some trouble with you today. When I spotted you together, I thought it was probably best to intercept."
"Well, thanks. I appreciate it," Reagan told him sincerely, though not thoroughly convinced this stranger acted purely out of the goodness of his own heart.
Reagan followed as the man led her through the crowd, noting the way he glanced intermittently over his shoulder, scanned their surroundings, and kept close to her, his hand on his weapon. She kept her eyes trained on him, unsure of whether she was more suspicious of her rescuer or just plain curious.
It wasn't too long before they reached Gungnir Arena. It was an enormous structure. All around it, excitement emanated from the crowds making their way inside. The walls gleamed marble-white, stretching towards the heavens into a cavernous open dome. Like everything in Asgard, the grandeur of the architecture was breathtaking - intricate carvings on every wall depicted legendary warriors and battles throughout Asgard's history. The atmosphere was electric.
Skurge guided Reagan to a stairwell and they journeyed up several flights before he opened another door, holding it and allowing her to step through. She stepped into a large spectator area that looked out over the arena below. Instead of rows of seating, here there were high tables in a large floor space. There was plenty of room to walk around, and the Asgardians there mingled happily. Skurge guided her towards a finely decorated bar lined with hundreds upon hundreds of different bottles filled with liquids of all colours.
"We should be right in here," Skurge told her, as he sidled up to the bar. His demeanour shifted into something a little more casual as he said it. "Halvor usually competes in as many events as he can at this type o' thing. He likes the attention. Won't have time to visit some bar on the off chance he might run into ya."
"What do you want with me?" Reagan asked at last, instead of responding to what he'd just said to her.
She just wanted him to come out with it, whatever it might be.
The corner of Skurge's mouth pulled up into an amused smirk.
"Want the God's honest?" he asked, meeting her eye at last.
"Absolutely."
"Truth is, nothing quite gets me going like putting a damper on that lousy prick's good day."
"Halvor?"
"Yep."
Reagan's brow furrowed.
"...why?"
"Because that weasel owes me so much coin I've well and truly lost count of it."
Skurge offered her a smug smile as if all the pieces should have just fallen perfectly into place for her. She looked at him blankly.
"Okay... and what exactly does that have to do with me? Why would he be telling people he wanted to get a rise out of me? Why today?"
"Fact of the matter is," Skurge explained, still leaning against the bar. He seemed a little distracted as he kept eyeing the barkeep, hoping to catch his attention. "Most of Asgard gets rather excited 'round these types of events. An awful lot of betting goes on. Those bets aren't strictly confined to what's happening down there, in the ring. Your mate, Halvor, placed a wager this mornin' he could get you naked before the events began, said he'd done it before. Said he knew how to rile you up so you'd burn off all your clothes."
Rage bubbled up in her suddenly. That motherfucker.
"I see," Reagan said, trying to remain calm. "He didn't happen to mention how he managed that last time, did he?"
"Course not," Skurge said. "But it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Speaking of, this is ridiculous, I need a bloody drink."
He leaned on the counter and loosed a high-pitched whistle in the direction of the barkeep. That at last seemed to do the trick.
"Six pints, please," he said before he seemed to remember himself. He turned to Reagan. "Where are my manners- You want one?"
She couldn't stop the amused smile that crept onto her face.
"Sure," she agreed. "Just the one."
"Right-Oi! Make that seven. Ah, fuck it- eight," he glanced back at Reagan. "I like even numbers."
"Sure," Reagan agreed simply, still trying to get a read on the peculiar man. He was so different to any other Asgardian she'd come into contact with.
The barkeep soon delivered eight startlingly large pints and Reagan reached for one, mildly astounded as Skurge managed to pick up and manoeuvre the remaining seven glasses and make his way over to an unoccupied high table.
Reagan set down her drink and scooted into her seat. They had a view from there down into the centre of the area where the competitors seemed to be preparing their weapons. The crowds below them roared, but the sound was muted, as if magic had been cast to dull to overwhelming sound for the level they were on. When Skurge spoke again, he was perfectly easy to hear over the cries and cheers below.
"Anyway, as I was saying," Skurge continued when he'd successfully situated all seven of his pints safely on the table. "Halvor is a betting man. Thing about him is that he's not an honourable one. Always finding ways to weasel out when it's his turn to cough up. And people seem to let him get away with it cause he has some kind of charm about him. Let's just say it would be my great pleasure today, to ensure he loses a significant amount of coin. And so, I'd like to extend to you my bodyguarding services for the remainder of the Tournament, completely pro bono. I'll be sure to keep that nonce out of your hair so you can enjoy yourself during today's events, and as a result, I'll be able to collect a handsome dividend. Win-win."
She eyed Skurge up and down as he downed his first pint in one go then reached for his next. An amused smirk spread across her features.
"Alright," she agreed calmly, extending her hand for him to shake. "You've got yourself a deal."
He took hold of her hand and shook it enthusiastically.
"Alright then!" He cheered and took a deep swig of his ale. And as she watched this, Reagan had to wonder vaguely how long it might be until the bodyguarding duties fell to her instead, if he was planning to drink like that the entire afternoon. She didn't really mind in all honesty. She found him rather amusing.
"Mind if I ask you something?" Skurge said then, side-eyeing her.
Reagan tensed a little. She'd come to dislike that question being asked of her in Asgard.
"Go ahead," she said tentatively, certain that the conversation was about to turn to Loki and the mark, just as it always inevitably did when she met someone new these days.
"Do Midgardians really carry around little ceilings on sticks to keep the rain off 'em?"
Reagan's eyebrows shot towards her hairline and a genuine smile split across her face. It had been the last question she'd expected. She gaped a little, trying to find the words, deciding then and there she very much liked this strange man who had come to her rescue.
"Oh, you mean umbrellas? Yeah. They're just lightweight fabric though on little metal collapsible frames. They aren't that exciting, honestly."
"Fascinating," Skurge says, somewhat pensively. "I've also heard a myth that you can keep track of your days with just a circle and a couple of sticks?"
Reagan's brow furrowed, confused as she watched him before she realised what he meant.
"You don't have clocks here?"
"Clocks!" he exclaimed. "That's the word. I couldn't think of it. How do they work?"
As Reagan took up a napkin and began to draw a clock face, Skurge leaned in, thoroughly enraptured by the wonky doodle as she explained how a clock face worked and how to read it. She explained how to read it, what the numbers represented, and what each of the hands were for. Skurge couldn't quite contain himself when she told him of the "second" hand, a third, optional hand.
"Amazing," he said, nursing his pint as he spoke. "You mortals boggle my mind. To think that calling it the second hand makes total sense to ya. I've always wanted to go to Midgard. Love the place. It's somewhat of a hobby of mine."
"Your hobby is... Midgard?" Reagan smiled.
Skurge shrugged, not at all self-conscious.
"I like how fast things seem to move there," he explained to her as he took a swig from one of his glasses. "Was only about a thousand years ago, you lot were fighting with spears, now your weapons are catching up with ours."
"Still fighting though," Reagan replied.
Skurge just shrugged.
"That's nothing new. We ain't exactly all gathered here today to watch a bunch of farmers go head to head harvesting their crops now, are we?"
Reagan laughed for a moment but the sound fell short.
She spotted him in the crowd just a second before his eyes fell on her. Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as Fandral lifted a hand and waved her way enthusiastically. He was seated at another high table with some others about twenty feet closer down to the arena. Dread settled in her stomach as she watched him tap a few of his companions on the shoulder and point her way. They all stood, gathering their drinks and making their way towards her.
"Oh, fuck," she muttered under her breath, though she offered the approaching group a fake smile.
Skurge heard it. His eyes flicked suspiciously between Reagan and the approaching Warriors Three.
"You alright?" he murmured to her.
"I'm wonderful," she drawled sarcastically.
There wasn't really much time for an explanation. Reagan watched as Fandral waved someone else over as he approached and was soon joined as well by Lady Sif.
"Ohhh double fuck," Reagan breathed.
"I was beginning to think you were avoiding us," Fandral said cheerily as soon as they were in earshot of each other.
Reagan offered him a tight smile.
"Well, given our last conversation, I thought maybe it was for the best," she replied honestly.
"Oh, nonsense Reagan," Fandral replied. "You're one of us, remember? We've missed your presence at our feasts."
She fought the urge to roll her eyes, noting Sif's ever-stiff demeanour, though she couldn't help but think there was something rather genuine in the way Volstagg grinned at her. She offered him a small, soft smile in return.
"Where's Thor?" she asked, hoping to steer the conversation in a more savoury direction.
"He's currently off-world," Volstagg explained. "Negotiating new treaty agreements on Ria after settling the unrest there."
"Oh, that's a shame. How come you didn't go with him?"
Reagan thought it was an innocent enough question - something to move the conversation along - but from the corner of her eye she saw Sif's gaze on her narrow. As she held back a sigh, she braced herself, knowing exactly what was coming.
"Why do you ask?" Sif shot at her, her voice cold. "Is your little friend listening in, trying to gather information?"
Reagan noted it was probably the longest sentence the other woman had ever spoken to her.
Yay for progress, she joked to herself.
"Yes, should we offer him our regards?" Fandral added as if trying to make a jest of the question.
Reagan clenched her hand under the table to keep herself calm. From the corner of her eye, she saw the way Skurge was studying her, trying to get a read on this peculiar interaction.
"No," she said politely, though there may have been a slight edge to her tone as she forced herself to meet Sif's eye. "No, it seems I finally got the hang of those mental shields I've been working on. So threat neutralised, I guess."
Sif scoffed, right to her face, before turning at walking away.
This time, Reagan didn't even bother to hide her scowl. She'd put up with the other woman's shitty attitude long enough. She crossed her arms over her chest.
"You must excuse her," Fandral said, watching Sif go. "She's not exactly the biggest fan of-"
"Yeah, believe it or not, I picked up on that," Reagan said firmly.
She knew she should keep her cool. She knew getting angry at them wouldn't do her any favours. But she was so sick of hearing them all talk about Loki like he was some monster waiting to strike. He was locked away, a thousand feet below the surface of Asgard-
The very thought of it made her ache.
-why did they have to act like he hadn't been dealt well and truly more than he deserved?
"She has her reasons," Fandral said gently. "You can't forget the things he's done, Reagan."
She forced herself not to huff.
Not to roll her eyes.
She was getting dramatically sick of this broken record.
"He attempted to kill our king, you must remember. And not just Odin, but Thor too. Thor, who is deeply important to all of us. Sif cannot find it in herself to just move on from that."
When Reagan's features remained cold, making it evident she wasn't going to respond, it seemed Fandral felt the need to keep going.
"And not that it really compares but, Loki actually once cut off all of her hair entirely unprovoked-"
A very loud, surprised giggle burst from Reagan then and her hand shot quickly to cover her mouth, in an attempt to suppress it. It was too late, Fandral's gaze on her turned slightly cold, mistrustful. Even Skurge looked mildly perturbed by her reaction, though more out of curiosity than anything.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Reagan said, hurriedly, trying to compose herself. "I'm so totally sorry. I just... I wasn't expecting that."
She made a mental note to brag to Loki that she totally called it months earlier when she suddenly remembered-
Her mind filled with another flash of his naked body pressing down against hers.
She shut the thought down adamantly for the umpteenth time that day. Man... what was up with her?
Reagan clocked the way her reaction had affected the warriors. Volstagg and Hogun now looked just as suspicious as Fandral. It secretly made her seethe. They'd approached her. She'd been well and truly keeping out of their way, minding her own business. The way they all looked at her now, what gave them the right to be so damn judgemental.
"So, are any of you competing today?" she asked the three, hoping to finally steer the conversation in a new direction. In truth, all she wanted was to just politely say goodbye but Skurge had insisted it was best that they stayed there and so she didn't really see an alternative. Not with his half dozen drinks he still had to get through.
"No, but a great many of our friends are down there today. Many of whom we fought alongside. Bringing peace to Vanaheim. Forcing back the rebellions in Nidavellir. Facing the legions of Jotenheim."
Fandral gave her a sidelong glance. Beside her, Skurge seemed to tense.
"Tell me, do you know much about Jotenheim?" Fandral asked, almost too casually. "Perhaps, happened upon it in your studies yet?"
She hesitated for just a moment. Jotenheim. A planet gifted to her on a night of star gazing. She felt sentimental about it - protective, even - but she was so grateful that the conversation had once again shifted away from Loki that she wasn't going to start squabbling with Fandral over that. She'd keep it secret. Just hers.
And Loki's.
Besides, she still rather enjoyed talking to Fandral when the conversation wasn't centred around the prince. She didn't really want to start a fight.
"I don't know a whole lot," she admitted, lightly. "It's the ice planet, right?"
"Correct. It is a desolate wasteland of frozen rock and frosty winds and darkness. It is a miserable world, nigh uninhabitable by most living things. But it is infested by one particularly vile species, known as the Frost Giants."
Beside her, Skurge shifted somewhat uncomfortably.
"They're not so bad as everyone makes out," he assured her under his breath as if he didn't want anyone else to hear the comment.
"On the contrary," Fandral interjected as he caught it, his gaze resolutely upon Reagan. "They're a violent race, thirsting endlessly for blood. For war. They are a cold species. Legend has it their very hearts are made from ice. Had Odin not battled them back - stopped their endeavours to bring about another ice age to Midgard, your kind would have been wiped out long before Loki ever had his chance to take over."
Behind him, Volstagg nodded grimly in agreement.
"They're a horrid sight to be seen in their true forms. Their skin is grey-blue like waking death, their eyes blood red. Their limbs are often misshapen and many of them grow ghastly bony protrusions so sharp they can carve open flesh. Their very muscles are comprised of ice. Their bones too. Their skulls are so thick with it, that it leaves very little room for their brains. So all they think of is war and destruction. They are beasts shaped like men. No one can trust them. No one is safe around them."
Reagan felt suddenly unsettled under his gaze, the way he leaned into her intensely, the way his voice grew lower and lower as he described the monsters. Perhaps he just had a penchant for dramatic storytelling, Reagan supposed, but gut instinct told her it was something more. Just as she opened her mouth to ask him exactly that, she was interrupted.
"Fandral!" Sif called for him then, and he whipped around to see her waiting for them by one of the exits. "Let's go."
She didn't even spare Reagan a glance. Reagan resisted the urge to shoot her the finger.
Fandral turned back to Reagan with a smile.
"Don't be a stranger, alright? We've missed your presence of late."
He offered a parting bow. Followed by Hogun and then Volstagg, whose smile still seemed the most sincere. She offered him a small one in return.
As she watched the small group of friends retreat Skurge slammed down another empty pint on the table, jarring Reagan's attention back to him.
"Well, that was all rather intense, wasn't it? Come on, then," Skurge said with another friendly clap on her shoulder. "What say we get go get another round?"
Reagan glanced down, astounded to find all seven of the glasses the Asgardian had carried over entirely drained empty.
"You already finished all those?"
"It's the Tournament of the Convergence, love. Gotta celebrate it."
"It's been forty minutes."
"Yeah, well, I'm pacing myself, aren't I?"
"How are you supposed to bodyguard me if you're passed out before noon?" Reagan teased.
Skurge simply threw her a bemused look.
"Relax. What kind of soldier would I be if I couldn't handle my mead?"
As it would turn out, Skurge did have quite a handle on his liquor. He remained steady and watchful - though with each pint he shouted advice down to the competitors just a little louder - and though Reagan drank a mere fraction of what he did, it seemed that she was the one who was growing slightly tipsy. The moment he noticed, Skurge went and found her something to eat that appeared to be made of potatoes.
"Carb up, love," he insisted gently as he set the plate down in front of her, before hurling more abuse down into the ring.
In truth, Reagan was finally enjoying herself. She didn't cross paths with Fandral or the others for the remainder of the day and a few of Skurge's other acquaintances came to join them intermittently. They each sat and made idle chat with her, explaining the rules of the contests unfolding in the ring. Each of them also graciously topped up Skurge's never-ending supply of beer. She laughed along each time, grateful for her new acquaintance.
So much so that she was almost entirely able to ignore the way she missed him.
All in all, Reagan found herself feeling quite relaxed.
Until the contestants were brought forth for the contest of swords.
A chill ran through her when she watched Halvor enter the ring.
"Do these events ever end with a beheading?" she muttered bitterly to Skurge, scowling down at the golden-haired man in the centre of the arena.
"Unfortunately no, they don't," Skurge grunted back. "Don't worry about him. He ain't any trouble to you down there."
As the event went on, it was rather painful to have to acknowledge that Halvor was in fact a rather mighty warrior. He moved with alarming speed and agility, besting a great many of his opponents with ease. With every victory, he seemed to grow all the more confident. With each win, the crowd cheered all the more adoringly. Slowly, the realisation began to dawn upon Reagan just how much trouble she would have been in that day if Loki hadn't saved her. And more than that, how much Loki had downplayed the strength of the other man so that she would not have to be afraid.
She so sorely wanted to talk to him.
Back in the ring, Halvor brought his final opponent to his knees and delivered his "killing" blow, stilling his strike just millimetres away from being fatal. As the crowd all around her erupted into cheers and applause, Halvor lifted his eyes to stare into the sea of audience members. Thousands upon thousands of people. And his eyes fell upon her. She glowered back at him. Halvor smiled.
Let the record show that I absolutely adore Skurge, I think he is incredibly underrated and I'm going to make it everyone's problem.
Sorry Loki isn't in this one much. It turned out longer than I expected and I've had to split it into two, so he'll be back in the next instalment.
Feedback is adored, even if it's to yell at me for the cheap trick at the start of this chap :P but can you imagine? It has to be the worst possible outcome of someone reading your mind.
I love you all. More soon 3