Having the bond open between them, feeling the matching energy of relief and happiness and adrenaline, it was a magic like nothing that Loki had ever encountered before. In that moment, holding her in his arms, and feeling the full power of the marks, it didn't feel like some invisible wavelength that existed between them, connecting them on a temporal level. No... right now, it felt as if it were forged from iron.
And as his mind encircled hers tenderly as he kissed her, Loki was vaguely surprised that there were no walls held against him at all. No secret little corner of her mind that still remained hidden. She gave him everything. Even with her lilting anger still present, she let him in completely, let him feel her.
Gods, he adored her.
To see the light that she held him in, that she'd hidden from him, it seemed so impossible that it was real. And yet he bathed in it, gladly. Because standing here with her, on this wasted planet without plans or possessions... he'd never felt less alone.
As Loki's mind delved through hers and Reagan's did the same, it was playful and gentle and so deeply affectionate. It was so light, in fact, that Loki almost missed the thing hidden beneath it all.
Not hidden, rather just... smothered by the sheer force of everything else - the mental strain of coping with Malekith's attacks, the shock of Loki revealing himself as alive, the emotional onslaught of their shared confessions.
It was pain.
Reagan was in pain. Her whole body was riddled with it, bruises and aches and strains from the encounters she'd faced against the elves. And along with that, exhaustion, making each injury all the worse.
Guilt swelled within him that he hadn't realised sooner. And he cursed his wretched brother for ever involving her in this whole conquest in the first place.
He drew away to look down at her with new concern, caressing her jawline carefully as he studied her for signs of discomfort.
"What is it?" Reagan asked, confused by the change in him, as if she couldn't feel each of the injuries herself.
Loki pushed her hair back delicately at her left temple, the hair there was caked with dried blood. Reagan winced a little. She took a gentle hold of his wrist, squeezing it reassuringly as she drew his hand away.
"It happened when Malekith hit me with the Aether. It's alright, it doesn't hurt much."
"Yes, it does," Loki murmured, all too aware that it wasn't the only injury she'd sustained in battle. "Come, we shouldn't linger here. I know a place where we can tend to your wounds."
Loki's hand settled on the small of her back as he guided her towards the Skiff. She fell into step beside him, remaining close, as if drawn to the warmth of his body.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Would you still like to see Vanaheim?"
Reagan looked up at him, squinting slightly in amusement.
"Yes," she answered simply, and Loki smirked at the unspoken question in her response.
"I may have one last trick up my sleeve," he admitted.
That seemed enough to satisfy her. Reagan climbed aboard the Skiff and settled into a seat by Loki's side. She didn't ask any more questions about his plans, instead indulging him in his need to be at least a little dramatic and keep an air of mystery to his plans. And as the vessel picked up speed, shooting out across the barren landscape, she just leaned into his warmth a little more, offering him a gentle smile before turning her attention to the horizon.
They soon approached a cliff face. It was unremarkable, indistinctive, but Loki's focus zeroed in. He steered the Skiff, careening towards a crack in the cliff face that was so narrow Reagan hadn't even noticed it. Her heart picked up pace but beside her Loki was frightfully calm. She couldn't help but tense as they got closer, every instinct in her telling her to jump from the vessel to avoid a crash.
But she was with Loki. So it was going to be alright.
With a flash of rainbow light, Svartálfheim fell away and she was bathed in the clear afternoon light of Vanaheim's sun.
Reagan gasped in awe, and as she drank in the fresh air, she immediately tasted the difference - all bitterness from the Dark World having vanished from the atmosphere and was replaced by the rich, crisp smell of thriving woodlands. Green. Everything was so green and thriving and full of life. It was everything that Svartálfheim wasn't.
She turned around to look at him, and as she so often found, his eyes were already on her.
How did you find all these passageways?
I found myself enraptured with the lure of dark magic for a time when I was younger. The use of it... unveils certain secrets of the universe to the user.
Dark magic. Sounds fun. Anything you want to show me?
No, Loki responded, far more firmly than Reagan had expected. It startled her a little before he softened, realising. No... it's not to be meddled with. Odin himself only calls upon it in times of true desperation. It's a forbidden practice.
How did you get involved with it then?
Well, I wasn't supposed to, so naturally...
Ah.
I went through a bit of a rebellious phase in my adolescence, he told her.
You? she said, sarcastically.
Loki only smiled.
He steered the Skiff over open lush, grassy plains and past large bodies of water until eventually they reached an opening into thick woods. It seemed random, but Loki steered with purpose, weaving expertly through the trees and then up a long, slopping hill.
Reagan sat back happily, taking in the views, savouring the chance to sit back and not have to think or... do.
Higher and higher, the hillside rose until finally, the trees cleared, giving way to an open clearing, looking out onto the woodlands below. Within the clearing stood a lone, modest cabin.
They approached it and Loki at last brought the Skiff to a stop. Reagan glanced at him questioningly. Loki just stood and offered her his hand, giving nothing away. She took it, allowing him to guide her off the vessel and towards the cabin door. Loki opened it without having to unlock it. Curiously, she followed him inside.
The interior was pristine, and warm as if a fire had been burning in the hearth for hours. It was comprised of rich, earthy tones, and a high ceiling, painted a shade of chestnut so deep it almost looked black. Glowing yellow bulbs of varying sizes hung from black chains, bathing the space in warm, yellow light. With wooden floors and panelled walls and a plush, oversized lounge facing a deep stone fireplace, there was something soothing about the space, something welcoming. Reagan glanced around, looking for Loki.
He was still by the entryway, leaning against the door frame, his arms folded as he allowed her to move through the space, observing the furnishings, the decor.
"Who's house is this?" Reagan asked as she took it in.
"Mine," Loki responded, simply.
She whipped around to look at him, her eyebrows shooting toward her hairline.
"Are you serious?"
"Indeed, I am."
"Well, look at you, you little real estate mogul. A castle on Asgard, a holiday house here. Did you swipe up any juicy properties while you were on Earth?"
"Well, I did have my eye on one particular tower, but my plans to commandeer it were unexpectedly thwarted," Loki smirked as he watched her survey the room.
Reagan glanced over her shoulder at him with an amused grin.
"Did you spend a lot of time here... you know, before?"
"Not really. There was a time not so long ago when the Nine Realms were in chaos and the forces of Asgard were sent out to remind enemies of our might. It can be macabre. It's easy to grow weary of war. I found it a comfort to have an escape... somewhere that I wouldn't hear the battle horns. But I never really liked it here, if I'm to be honest," he admitted. "It always seemed a little too empty."
"And here I was thinking you preferred your own company," she replied, still turning slowly to take in her surroundings.
Loki smiled softly as he watched her.
"Not lately."
When Reagan turned to look at him over her shoulder, practically melting under his gaze. He inclined his head.
"Come, let's get you cleaned up."
Reagan followed him into a spacious washroom, at the centre of which was a sunken bathing pool, easily large enough to fit a dozen people. Loki strode past it to a cabinet on the other side of the room. He opened it to reveal stoppered glass bottles of all different shapes and sizes, all containing various liquids. None were labelled, but as Loki sifted through them he seemed to know what he was looking for.
"Sit," he instructed, gesturing to a countertop beside him.
Obediently, Reagan hoisted herself up, wincing a little as her tired muscles protested. She swung her legs idly as she watched Loki sort through the various bottles on the shelves. When he selected one that was a rather vibrant shade of pink he moved over towards her.
He opened the bottle and her nostrils filled with the distinct scent of chamomile as well as something totally foreign to her, though not unpleasant.
"What is that stuff?" she asked.
"It's a balm that accelerates healing," Loki said as he moved towards her as he glanced up at her temple. "It will encourage that wound to close more quickly and it should also ease your discomfort."
Reagan felt the warm glow of magic over the wound hidden beneath her hair and she touched it curiously only to find her fingers came away clean. No blood remained there - crusted or fresh. She glanced up at Loki wore a proud sort of smile.
"Neat trick," she admitted.
"It comes in handy. Now, hold still for me."
Loki began applying the salve to her injury and she breathed a sigh of relief as the throbbing pain there instantly began to ease. He was so impossibly gentle as he tended to her, and she couldn't help but smile a little as she glanced at him to find his expression so focused.
She felt him searching the bond, using it methodically to catalogue any injuries she had sustained. He saw to all of them. Even the most insignificant ones, like the small scratch on her left shin that she wasn't even entirely sure was from the dark elves. Patiently, she watched as Loki applied the salve to every last bruise and scratch he came across. The ointment slowly faded from a brilliant pink to nothingness as it soaked into her skin each time.
"It probably would have been quicker to just come at me with a paint roller," she teased.
Loki smirked at the idea.
"Indulge me," he murmured, and she relented.
"I do appreciate it," she admitted, her whole body was feeling so much better - her aches and pains having eased, her muscles relaxing under his attentive touches.
Finally, only one injury remained. Probably the worst after the split in her scalp. But she understood why he'd left it for last. Beneath her dress, the ache in her ribs was ever-present. There was substantial bruising there, she was certain of it. She knew Loki was aware of it too, so he wasn't going to just let her ignore it. And the salve had helped so much.
She looked up at him and her eyes met his. Loki hesitated, his hand ghosting over the injury.
"Will you help me?" she asked, sparing him from having to ask.
Reagan turned a little on the spot to allow Loki access to the fastenings running along her spine and swept her hair over one shoulder so that it wasn't in the way. He unhooked them slowly, and little by little, cool air kissed its way further down her spine until her entire back was exposed. She turned back to face him again and slipped one arm free, then the other, allowing the garment to fall away. She wore a bra, a simple black thing, made from the same unburnable fabric as her dress. But still, she'd never been so exposed to him. Even at their worst, Loki had never violated her privacy like that.
Her eyes flicked up to search his but he was pointedly avoiding her gaze, as well as other parts of her anatomy. Instead, he was laser-focused on her ribcage, the early mottle of bruising beginning to show, blooming over something already tattooed there. Loki recognised it instantly.
Medusa. Black and white and exquisitely detailed. Reagan had mentioned it to him only once and he'd been... he'd been jealous. He'd hidden it behind indifference but the thought had sent him wild. Before she'd even met him, she'd chosen other gods, other legends. Her interest had been piqued by powers and mysterious things that weren't him. He'd known he was being unreasonable. He'd known that. But for her to love a myth so much that she would brand it on her skin... he'd hated it long before he'd ever laid eyes upon it. But now, staring down at her exposed skin, and the images she had chosen to decorate herself with, it felt like he were privy to a secret.
It was almost enough to distract him from the other parts of her that he longed to allow himself to admire.
Almost.
He'd long since lost count of the hours he'd spent imagining what it would be like to peel away her clothing to discover her hidden artworks. But also the swell of her breasts. The smooth slope of skin which made up her torso. Even her naval. He still hadn't sighted it, and yet he longed to dip his tongue into it.
He wanted to devour her.
He clenched his jaw and swallowed, willing himself to regain some modicum of self-control.
She's hurt, he reminded himself. And that was enough for him to right his thinking process. She was hurt. She needed his help. She didn't need him lost in foggy daydreams of all the ways he wanted to ravish her.
Refocused, Loki applied the salve to her marred ribcage and lingered there, his thumb ghosting over her skin. Reagan shivered under his touch and Loki's nostrils suddenly flared as he scented the effect that simple motion had on her. Once again his resolve came undone. Norns, she was going to be the death of him.
"Loki..." he heard her whisper.
His eyes finally drew up to meet hers, and it was both a relief and a torment to see lust there that rivalled his own. Loki wasn't sure who moved first, all he knew was that one moment he was gazing into her eyes and the next he was kissing her ravenously. Reagan's hands were on him then, roaming up his chest to his shoulders to the hair at the nape of his neck. And when his tongue swept over hers a desperate sort of sound escaped her.
He wanted to lose himself in her entirely, and if it hadn't been for the bond he might have. But he was all too aware of her injuries.
Loki, regretfully, pulled away ever so slightly. His forehead pressed to hers, only a hair's breadth between them as they both panted for air. As he felt her trying to pull him back to her, he closed his eyes so that he might have the resolve to say what he needed to say.
"We shouldn't be doing this," he murmured, though he groaned softly as Reagan ignored him and leaned in to kiss his throat. "Not while you're injured."
"I'm fine," she insisted, encircling her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his pulse point.
His hand moved to the curve of her spine, almost against his own will.
"Reagan," he protested weakly as he felt her tongue on his skin. "I don't want to hurt you. There'll be time for this later."
And even as he said it, his other hand was moving slowly up her thigh, kneading at her flesh, bunching her skirts up to reveal more of her skin to him. She was so warm. Her skin was so soft. And he'd craved her like this for so, so long.
"We have time now," she insisted.
She parted her thighs, allowing more room for him to slot between them, closer to her. He moved to her like she was a magnet, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair, inhaling the scent as his hands roamed her body. Reagan then trailed her fingers slowly down his chest, down his stomach, finding their way to the hem of his tunic. She slipped one hand beneath it, her fingertips skimming over the warm skin there, trailing along the waistline of his pants. Loki hissed.
"You're not playing fair," he breathed.
"You faked your death," she rebutted pointedly, though he could hear the smile in her voice. "Loki, I want you. Please... Let me have you."
A guttural groan escaped him at those words.
"I'm trying to take care of you," he told her, squeezing his eyes shut in a final attempt to remain on task.
"So take care of me," she purred, amusement lacing the words. She flattened her hand against his abdomen beneath his clothes, savouring the feeling of his hard muscles tensing under her touch.
It was like a dam inside her had broken. A dam she'd built herself, after months and months of telling herself that she didn't want him, didn't need him. And now that it was gone, she had no intention of building it back up again.
Loki by no means considered himself a man lacking self-discipline but he had been convinced for so long that he'd never get to experience her like this for so very many reasons. And so to have her there, willing him - begging him - to take her.
To try and resist that, he might as well have tried to swallow the sun.
"I need you to tell me to stop," Loki pleaded one last time even as he grazed his teeth down the length of her neck, earning a gasp from her.
"No," she whispered in response, nipping at his earlobe.
The scent of her hair, her skin, it was intoxicating.
And then her hand was on his jaw, drawing his mouth back to hers, coaxing him closer.
"I don't know how to control myself around you," he whispered.
"Then don't," she said simply.
They crashed together then, a mess of lips and tongues and teeth. The kiss quickly turned hungry - urgent.
And just as the last of his resolve crumbled and Loki was giving in, he felt her entire body go suddenly rigid.
He pulled back to look at her quickly, alarmed he'd hurt her. And her gaze was fixed on him.
"But don't cut my hair off," she said sternly.
Surprised, Loki threw his head back and laughed.
He raised a hand, his pinky finger extended.
"You have my word," he assured her.
Reagan smiled as she wrapped her finger around his, tugging gently on it to draw him in closer once more. Loki kissed her again, one hand coming up to cup her face, the other still holding her pinky. And only when she let go to encircle her arms around his neck did his arm snake around her waist.
He lifted her suddenly and swept her from the room. She gave a surprised squeal and instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist.
"Where are we going?" she asked, pressing up against him.
"I can't tell you the hours I've endured thinking of all the things I wanted to do to you, all the while believing you'd forever be off limits to me. If I'm to have you for the first time, it won't be on a cold tiled floor," he murmured, pupils blown wide when he looked at her.
Reagan's stomach fluttered.
They reached the bedroom quickly and Loki lay her down on a decadently large bed before stripping her dress from her body. He gazed down at her, laid out before him and bent over her, licking from her naval to her breast bone as he settled himself between her thighs.
"You're still wearing too many layers," Reagan murmured, reaching for him.
In an instant, he was shirtless and she watched slightly breathless as Loki prowled up her body like a predator.
Beautiful.
He was beautiful.
Those brilliant green eyes of his. His silken back hair, slightly dishevelled now, fell into his face over those perfect cheekbones and striking jawline. His broad shoulders, his whole body hard and sculpted, the lean muscles rippling beneath his skin. He was otherworldly. Eternal. Powerful. And he loved her.
Reagan stilled for a moment as her eyes fell to the iridescent cuff encircling his forearm. She'd only ever seen his once, fleetingly, that first day in the elevator. Before she understood what it was. Before she could ever have comprehended what he would come to mean to her.
She lifted her hand to touch the mark, her own glinting as it caught the light. Loki watched her and slowed.
A moment of tenderness amongst heated passion.
"That's the first place you ever touched me," she murmured to him, with a small smile. "I wonder how many other people get to know that."
"I suppose it's a good thing you didn't headbutt me," Loki smirked.
And Reagan giggled as she drew him to her once more.
Their lips met again and Loki's hand swept beneath her reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. As he kissed her, his hand stilled there for a moment, asking for permission and Reagan arched into him, curving her spine and allowing him better access.
He pulled the garment away then and draw back to look at her, pupils blown wide as he stared at her bare breasts.
And the tattoo there.
The noise he made was almost inhuman.
Framing her breasts, was a delicate design of two vines crossing over at the apex of her sternum and branching out beneath the undercurve of her supple mounds. They were laced with an etching of stars, making it appear as if they dripped from the delicate leaves of the vines.
All over her were these markings. Markings he hadn't known were there.
Stars and a crescent moon.
Symbols he didn't yet know the meaning to.
Roses decorating the whole curve of her left hip.
A pattern down her right thigh.
Symbols upon her feet and ankles.
Loki wanted to memorise every one.
"I thought you didn't like my tattoos," she gasped when he leaned down to run his tongue along the ink beneath her breasts.
"Darling, I told you..." he murmured into her skin, only glancing up to meet her eye. "I like everything about you."
He took her nipple in his mouth then, swirling his tongue over it as it budded and she arched up into him.
Slowly, as if savouring it, he ran his hand firmly down her torso. When he reached the apex of her thighs, his fingers travelled lower and he entered her, making her gasp.
And his mouth soon followed, latching onto her. She felt him enter her mind, reading her for the things she craved from him, and he answered every desire he found there with expert administration. It wasn't long before she was trembling beneath him.
"Loki, I..."
It was all she managed before he redoubled his efforts and her climax crashed through her.
A guttural noise escaped her and Loki soon moved back up her body to swallow it, his lips colliding desperately with hers. Reagan opened her legs wider from him, his thighs pressing hard to the back of hers and then finally he pressed his length into her.
He stared into her eyes as he sunk into her painfully slowly, and Reagan moaned softly as he filled her, stretched her, deeper and deeper. And when at last he'd hilted, he leaned in to kiss her tenderly.
Her eyes fluttered shut as his mouth moved against hers, each of them groaning softly as Loki began to move in her. Slowly at first, tenderly. And then faster. And faster. And faster. Their breaths mingled together, hands roaming, nails scratching. They soon grew breathless, sweat soaking their skin as their movements grew more urgent.
She could feel something building in him, his desire to put something to words. The way he was holding himself back from it.
"Say it," she whispered, lacing her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Loki... Say it."
"You're mine," he growled then, and though his voice was like velvet, she heard it there - the ghost of question.
"I am," she whispered back, as he pressed his forehead against hers as he moved inside of her. "I'm yours."
Something shifted in him then, as if he were possessed. He slammed into her relentlessly, his teeth sank into the flesh of her neck before he swirled his tongue over the spot, soothing the ache there.
"I love you," he murmured against her skin.
And the bond hummed with pure, near-blinding emotion.
Reagan reached her peek with a shattered moan and Loki soon followed, and they clung to each other through it. Gasping for breath, their lips met once more in a languid kiss. And when Loki pulled away to gaze down at her, still buried deep inside her, as they both tried to calm their breathing, they each laughed a little. Giddy. Relieved. Happy.
"I love you," they whispered in unison.
Loki leaned in to kiss her again.
Reagan awoke the next morning to find her back pressed firmly against the warmth of Loki's hard body. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, holding her close to him, and their legs tangled together beneath sinfully soft blankets. She stretched a little before settling back against him contently but then stilled, her eyes flew open as a thought entered her mind.
Tentatively, she reach up to run her fingers through her hair and breathed a soft sigh of relief when she found the locks just as long as they had been the night before.
She felt laughter rumble low in his chest against her spine and he leaned in to press a lazy kiss to her shoulder blade.
"And here I was half-convinced I had your trust," he murmured against her skin, his voice slightly husky with sleep.
"You do," she smiled to herself. "I just wanted to make sure that it wasn't very, very stupid of me to give it to you."
"A small part of me did consider there might be a small possibility that you would find it at least a little funny if I were to do it."
"I lack the vocabulary to explain to you how incorrect you would have been."
"It's fortunate that I didn't decide to risk it, then. I thought it best not to misstep with you two days in a row."
Reagan laughed.
"Misstep, huh? That's certainly downplaying your little fake-out, don't you think?"
"Yes, well, it helps me to keep my sanity. After all, that misstep almost led to me losing you."
And while his voice was still rather playful, Reagan heard the vulnerability there too. And it was so brand new a thing in him to be revealing to her Just the knowledge that yesterday's events had scared him too, that he'd been just as shaken by the idea of being without her, it made her heart ache. Just yesterday, she'd thought he was gone, that she'd never see him again. Just a few days ago, he'd been locked away deep beneath the city of Asgard, doomed to be kept away from her forever. And she was here beside him, soaking in the warmth of his body pressed against hers.
Reagan turned over to face him. Loki's grip on her loosed just long enough for her to roll over before his arms settled around her once again. She leaned in to press a kiss to his chest then settled there against the warmth of him.
"I'm right here," she whispered.
She didn't offer any more words of reassurance. She didn't need to. The bond was open between them. Strong and alive with emotion and tenderness, saying more than either of them could ever put into words.
Together, they fell back into a contented doze and slept the morning away, entangled in each other.
"And what about this one? What is it?"
Loki grazed his fingers over an oddly shaped creature tattooed on her inner arm.
For the new few days that followed, it seemed that Loki was not satisfied unless he was touching her in some way, pleasuring her in some way, serving her in some way. The countless hours he'd spent trapped in that infernal cell, fantasising about how he'd wanted so desperately to take her to bed, but also, just to learn what it was to be near her.
For that reason, and for the fact that there was nowhere else in the universe they needed to be, they spent the majority of their time in bed or curled up by the fire, or taking in the views laid out before them from the comfort of soft seating under the wide cabin windows.
On this particularly cold morning, neither Loki nor Reagan had been overly inclined to leave the warm comfort of the bed they'd shared. It was such a simple thing, body warmth. That they had known each other for so long, had touched each other, sat close to one another, held each other, but the warmth of it was new... and welcome. And so some mornings, leaving that felt like a task verging upon impossible. Which is why they agreed it was wise to abandon any attempt at it. On this morning, Loki had taken his time exploring Reagan's body, seeing to her wounds which were all but healed now, but also mapping the tattoos she'd collected on her skin, asking for their stories, wanting to know every one of them as well as she did.
He studied the little creature that lived tucked away on her inner bicep. It was vaguely serpentine in nature, though it appeared to have two sets of fins.
"That's the Lochness Monster," Reagan explained, looking down at where Loki's fingers rested. "I used to be obsessed with it. It's a legend. He's this giant sea creature that is supposed to exist in a lake in Scotland, most people don't believe he exists but others travel there hoping to be lucky enough to spot him out on the water somewhere. I always wanted to go."
"And this one?" Loki asked as he moved down her body, to the small jellyfish dancing its way up her pelvis.
"There's no meaning behind that one really, I've just always liked that they're kind of weird and pretty and don't make a whole lot of sense."
Loki reached for her ankle, bending her knee up gently, his finger swept over a tiny drawing on the inside of her ankle. This one didn't seem to match the rest. The linework far thicker - cruder. It didn't seem to have been branded onto her skin with the same delicate care as the rest.
"And this one?" he asked.
Reagan hesitated, her eyes landing upon the small cartoon burger who stared back at her with a maddeningly innocent smiley face.
"I don't think you're going to like that one," she said, a little reluctantly.
Loki leaned in to press his lips to the inked skin, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Tell me anyway," he murmured.
Reagan steeled herself, feeling a little cruel that she wasn't about to just make up some lie for his benefit. But he was inside her head, so even if she'd tried it, he would have quickly realised the truth.
"A few years ago, I went on vacation with my ex-boyfriend, Austin. We had a really good time, and there was this burger joint that we ate at most days, just up the road from the beach. There was a tattoo parlour on top of it so we thought it would be fun to get stupid, spur-of-the-moment, matching tattoos. It was dumb. We broke up a few months after that. "
Reagan watched, unable to fully hide her amusement, as Loki's jaw twitched with annoyance. He drew back a little to stare at the tattoo with a newfound disdain. He then shifted a little to line himself up with her ribcage.
"Medusa, wonderful news," he said to the woman inked there. "You're now my second least-favourite tattoo."
Reagan giggled and laid her hand over the image of the woman, shielding her from his view.
"Don't be mean to her," she giggled.
"Why do you like her so much anyway?"
His voice was still rife with annoyance and jealousy and Reagan bit down on the urge to remind him that he was, in fact, a massive dork.
Luckily, his question had also left her feeling slightly self-conscious. She'd never actually shown that particular tattoo to anyone else. Never talked about it. It had been one that was just for her. Loki spotted it, her hesitance and he softened as he watched her.
"Do you know the story?" Reagan murmured quietly, fiddling idly with the hem of the sheets pooled in her lap so that she didn't have to meet his eye. "What happened to her?"
Loki shook his head.
"She wasn't always this terrible monster with snakes for hair," she explained. "She used to just be an ordinary girl. She worshipped the Goddess Athena and became a priestess in her temple. She devoted her life to her. But she was beautiful - too beautiful - and Athena was jealous of her because people would come to her temple just to gaze upon Medusa. And one day, she caught the attention of Poseidon, the God of the Sea. He told he wanted her but she rejected his advances, and so eventually, he just took her by force. He did it in Athena's temple because she had run there for sanctuary, hoping that her Goddess would protect her. When Athena found out what had happened she punished Medusa for it. Turned her into this," Reagan gestured to the image on her ribs. "And she made it so that anyone who ever dared to look her in the eye again would be turned to stone, so that she would always be alone."
Loki remained silent, listening, his brow furrowing gently as he watched her.
"Something really terrible happened to her," Reagan murmured at last. "Something that made her an outcast. That made her hurt people even if she didn't want to. She was all alone. And everyone was afraid of her. But she turned that curse into her strength. I got it when I was struggling to control my powers because I wanted to be like her."
A gentle hand took hold of her chin and guided her to look his way. She found him staring down at her adoringly and couldn't help but to smile before Loki leaned in and kissed her tenderly, his hand settled protectively over the inked artwork on her ribs.
"I also wonder what it would look like if a mirror looked in another mirror," Reagan said, gazing into the fire that crackled in the hearth, in the latest hours of the evening.
When Loki didn't answer she turned her head, rolling over into a slightly cooler patch in the sheets. She tucked her arm beneath her head like a makeshift pillow. Loki lay on his side, his head propped up on his hand, watching her with a small smile playing on his lips.
"I also wonder if being dizzy this way feels the same as being dizzy this way," Reagan spun her finger in a horizontal circle and then in a vertical one.
Again Loki didn't respond.
"I also wonder-"
"Reagan?" Loki said gently, at last.
"Hmm?"
"I wasn't being literal."
Reagan frowned a little as if he were being entirely ridiculous.
"You said 'every thought I've ever had.' That's what you said," she told him.
Loki's smile grew all the more adoring, he reached for her then, and she went willingly, curling up against him.
"You're right. My apologies," he swept his fingers through her hair. "Do continue."
"I also wonder who decided it needed to be spelled 'queue'... that's so excessive. Like, what else were they in charge of?"
"You know you need to tell Thor that you're alive, right?"
Loki scoffed at the idea as he handed her a cup of steaming, fragrant tea and sat down opposite her on the cushioned window sill to gaze out over the brilliant view of evergreen-covered mountains. Reagan moved to cross her ankles casually over his thigh as she leaned back to sip from her cup. The liquid was scolding but it didn't phase her.
"Come now, there's no need to spoil our evening with such talk," Loki retorted.
"I mean it, Loki. He was devastated. I'm actually feeling a little guilty that I haven't made you do it yet."
Loki threw her an incredulous look, the telltale glint of amusement in his eye.
"Oh, you think you can make me, do you?"
"Absolutely," she said simply. "You owe me."
"How do I owe you?"
"Because you faked your own death," Reagan said pointedly.
"Enlighten me. Exactly how long are you planning on milking that?"
"At least until I'm old and grey."
She'd just been teasing, but the moment the words had slipped from her lips she wished she could unsay them. The air shifted and tension settled between them. They'd been ignoring it, and they were both well aware of it. But that had been okay because this thing between them was still so new. Only a few days old. And so it had been okay to ignore the thing they both sorely wanted to ignore. Reagan caught the change in him, watched his smile fade a little. She lowered her tea into her lap, gripping it with both hands to stop from trembling, looked down into it so that for just a few moments she didn't have to look at him. His hand settled on her ankle, anchoring each of them.
"Should we talk about it?" she asked, glancing up at him once more.
Loki shook his head slowly, unable to hide the pain from his expression.
"Another time," he said softly.
Reagan set her cup aside and moved towards him. He pulled her slowly - effortlessly - into his lap, she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"Okay," she agreed in barely even a whisper. She pressed her face into his neck, pressed her lips to his skin. Not quite a kiss, just... lingering there.
"Will you say it again?" He asked then, his voice so painfully soft.
She lifted her head to look at him and knew exactly what he meant.
"Loki, I love you," she said simply. It sounded like the truest thing in all the world.
His grip on her tightened and he pressed a kiss into her hair.
"Take me to bed?" she suggested.
"You're tired?"
She offered him a small smile, that held just a whisper of mischief.
"Nope."
Later that same evening, the pair lay in bed together. The tension from the conversation that had come earlier had been eased by the hours they'd lost to heated kisses and decadent touches and gasps and moans and sweat. And though Loki's mood had improved, he hadn't quite come back into the light yet. And so Reagan did her best to coax him there. She lit a fire with her powers, filling the room with her warmth, and had slipped to the kitchen, naked and barefoot, returning with a platter of fruits, nuts and cheeses, and two glasses of a deep, rich liquor that Loki seemed to favour. They talked into the early hours of the morning.
"What's your favourite season?" Reagan asked him, taking a small sip from her glass. The liquor was honeyed yet still burned on the way down, spreading a comfortable warmth through her. She lay on her belly, propped up on her elbows. Loki lay beside her, propped up on a few pillows, one arm folded behind his head. Beneath the covers, he draped one thigh over hers.
"It used to be winter," he told her.
"Used to be?"
Loki hesitated a little.
"I'd always rather enjoyed the cold. The snow. Especially the storms. It's one of the reasons I had this place built here. But after I found out what I was... It was hard not to resent any sort of reminder of my true nature."
As always when she witnessed moments of his self-loathing, a sadness swelled in Reagan. And this was only the surface of it, what he was ready to reveal to her. It all ran so much deeper. She made a silent promise to herself that she'd find a way to help him unlearn all those untrue things he believed about himself. For now, though, she inclined her head playfully.
"I think it should still be winter," she murmured then. "I think it suits you."
"Does it?"
"Yeah. Besides, it's my favourite too."
Loki smiled softly.
"Well, that settles it then," he replied contently.
"Okay, next. Theee..." Reagan drew the word out, thinking. "Best gift you ever got?"
His gentle smile remained in place even as his gaze dropped from hers. Instead of answering aloud, he grazed his thumb over the cuff encircling her forearm. That simple gesture said far more than words ever could.
Reagan wondered at that moment if it was possible for her heart to actually burst. Affection coursed down the bond and she took his hand in hers and pressed a kiss to his palm before settling her cheek there.
"Really though, tell me," she insisted. "The most precious physical thing anyone ever gave you."
Loki contemplated for a few moments, and Reagan watched curiously as something shifted in him.
"Do you remember the morning you'd finally had it with me, and you went to wreak havoc upon my chambers?"
Reagan smirked.
"Vaguely."
"Do remember the orb you picked up? The one you threatened to smash?"
Reagan stilled for a moment, thinking back. So much had happened since then. She'd spent so much time fighting him, trying to get a rise out of him, and then getting to know him, being welcomed into him, exploring his castle, coming to be what they now were. She'd almost entirely forgotten about that orb. It had seemed so insignificant. But then that's why it had stood out. So plain a thing amongst the other lavish items which had decorated Loki's chambers. But it had been that orb... when she'd threatened to break it, he had yielded. He'd pleaded. He'd agreed for the first time to help her. It had been that important to him.
"What is it?" she murmured, her brows drawing together.
The thought that it was the thing he was choosing to tell her about now - his most prized item - it made her ill at the thought that she'd almost destroyed it.
"It was my mother's," he told her. "And her mother's before her. Forged by a witch who had managed to trap a spell inside the belly of it. A near-impossible thing to do."
"What kind of spell?"
"If you were gaze into it long enough, you'd glimpse a secret of what your future held," Loki explained. "There's no controlling what you'll see, and once you've seen it, that's the end of it. It will never reveal anything to you again. Just one secret. Sometimes cryptic. But always, something significant. Thor went first. As he always did. And when he looked into it, he was delighted to see himself as a grown man, wielding the power of lightning."
"And what did you see?"
He didn't answer her immediately, seemingly lost in thought. Reagan wondered for a moment if perhaps he wasn't going to tell her at all.
"Loki?" she pressed gently.
"A girl made of fire," he whispered at last.
Whatever she'd expected his answer to be it hadn't been that. Confusion bloomed in her as she watched him, waiting for him to go on. Slowly, she sat up so she could better view him, her heart thundering against her ribcage.
"I saw the marks," he admitted. "One on my arm, the other on yours. I saw you set yourself aflame with rage. I saw that you hated me. And that is all it would reveal to me."
She felt the colour draining from her face.
"That's all you saw?" she whispered in horror and Loki nodded.
"I never told anyone. Frigga saw that whatever I had seen had shaken me but I refused to tell her what it was. She gifted me the orb as her mother had to her. She told me she'd seen something as a child that she'd thought would be awful but when it came to fruition, she used it to strengthen her. She never told me what it was. But she asked me to trust her. And so I kept it as a symbol - a goal - to... unbe whatever it was that you saw and loathed in me upon sight. I supposed the idea of it turned me bitter. I never told anyone what I'd seen. Not a soul. I grew up knowing that I'd be a bearer of the mark. That my soulmate was forged from fire... and that when I found you, you wouldn't want me. When I found you, you'd loathe me."
"Loki... I'm so sorry."
"I didn't recognise you," he went on. He sounded so fragile, lost in memory. "Your face was burned into my memory for centuries, and yet I didn't even realise it was you. Thanos - the power of the sceptre - it had corrupted my mind to such an extent that when I saw a mortal girl atop that tower fighting off the Chitauri with her own conjured flames, I didn't even consider it might be you. And even after it was over, when I was clear again... Reagan, I prayed it wouldn't be you. Despite knowing it, despite the lure that I felt. Because if it was you, then it all made sense. And there would be no undoing of it. I think perhaps that's part of why I treated you so poorly in the beginning. I was full of such rage, still trying to come back from Thanos' hold. And then there you were, already having witnessed the worst of me. I'd taken the mind of someone dear to you. I'd killed. I'd tried to take the freedom of all your people. How could there ever be redemption to be had from that?"
"Loki..."
"I loathe myself," he went on, "for the way I invaded your mind in those early days. But I'd waited so long to find you. I'd waited for your disdain. I'd... hoped that in knowing of it, I could undo it. But there was nothing to be done about the mess I'd made, showing you the worst of me before the bond ever forged. I didn't know about the link - at least, not the psychic element of it - and so having that access to you, feeling how you loathed me... I pushed you, made it all the worse, so that I could cultivate a lie for myself that it had been my choosing. That it had happened on purpose. That I hadn't wanted you."
She couldn't stand it anymore, tears spilled down her face and the moment Loki saw it he sat up, reaching for her.
"Don't do that," he whispered gently. "Please, don't cry."
"I'm so sorry," she told him. "I'm so, so sorry."
"You needn't feel guilt, darling," he assured her. "It wasn't your doing."
But it felt like it was. For him to have endured years - centuries - of knowing that he would face the rejection of the one soul in the universe who was truly meant for him. It was unimaginable. A cruelty. A loneliness like no other. A loneliness bred from waiting for loneliness. Rejection before he'd even had a chance to offer up what he was. And even if she hadn't known, even if she'd had every right to feel the way she had, it made her sick to her stomach that she had brought that prophecy into fruition for him. No wonder he'd never felt as though he was enough. No wonder he so desperately desired to be seen as Thor's equal... why he'd thought that she would leave him at the first chance she was presented with. When he'd grown up his whole life believing his true equal would only despise him.
More tears fell as she took in his features. That face she'd grown to adore more than any other in existence.
"I need you to understand that maybe at the start I didn't-" she shook her head quickly, couldn't even bring herself to say it. "I didn't know you then, okay? But once I did, once I got to know you even a little, I had to actively try not to like you. I had to remind myself over and over that I shouldn't. Because it was too easy to like you, Loki. I couldn't stop myself from wanting to talk to you or to see you or to be around you. It was impossible not to. And it wasn't the bond... it was you. You make me happy, Loki. You made it so stupidly easy to like you. And so falling in love with you? I never stood a chance. And I'm so glad for it."
Loki smiled softly as he watched her pouring herself out to him once again.
"I'm glad for it too. And I hope that you know that this is worth all of it. I'd endure anything to have ended up here with you."
She leaned in and pressed her lips to his.
"Wait," she said then, pulling back to look at him. "Why is that the best gift you ever got? That sounds terrible."
His grin twisted into something slightly sinister.
"Thor wanted it too, but our mother gave it to me. The tantrum he threw was monstrous, it was utterly delightful."
And though her face was still wet with tears, Reagan buried her face into the curve of his neck as laughter spilled out of her.
His arms encircled her, holding her close as he laughed along with her. But Reagan felt the whisper of a still-fresh ache in him again.
Frigga.
Reagan pulled back to look at him, and just the look on her face was enough to tell Loki that she knew. That she understood.
"I'm glad that I got to meet her," she murmured, her hand on his chest.
Loki made a noise of agreement, dropping her gaze. He trailed his fingers down the length of her arm, taking comfort in how soft her skin was.
"So am I. I wish I could have told her about us."
"She knows," Reagan smiled gently. "I think she knew long before either of us did."
Loki pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there, still lost in memory - the gentle moment in his youth when his mother had gifted him the orb, knowing that he would suffer and yet believing that he could rise above whatever fate would deal him.
"She said she loathed me to suffer it, but it was my choosing as to how it would shape me."
Reagan smiled.
"My mom used to say something similar," she admitted.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, but she worded it a little differently. Something like... it's important to go through at least a little childhood trauma or else you don't turn out funny."
Laughter burst out of him, and it made Reagan beam with pride.
"She sounds like an interesting woman."
"She was. She was... awesome."
Loki hesitated a moment, before asking the question.
"Do you think she would have..."
"Oh, absolutely," Reagan smiled. "I mean, she would have decked you with a frying pan for New York but... if I'd asked, she would have given you a chance. And she would have loved you. She was good at reading people. She would have had you all figured out. Way faster than I ever did."
It was when Reagan, at last, found sleep that night with her head resting upon Loki's bare chest, listening to the steady sound of his heartbeat, that she first dreamt of the woman.
She was standing in a blanket of thick snow, the sky above her shadowed with storm clouds which had not yet opened up.
Her skin was time-weathered. Salt and pepper dreadlocks reached well past the small of her back.
She raised her golden eyes and gazed directly at Reagan as if she sensed her presence there.
The woman smiled and beckoned her closer.