Loki and the firechild





Wincing as she put a hand on her own hair, Summer slapped a palm upward against the device. “Then I’m an idiot. You should’ve trusted me.” But her eyelids were flickering with exhaustion, and she could feel muscle tremors on the edges of her awareness.

After a pull of light and pressure, they were back on the edge of the bridge in Asgard.  

Loki stepped back from her and waved his hands to mask the device again, and it was gone.  The two of them stood safe and successful.  

In a flurry of thought, Loki wasn’t certain if he wanted to hug her or go drink mead and sing war songs with her.  Or perhaps he would just catch her as she fainted.  

Summer’s head lay back in his arms and he stroked her rebellious hair from her face as he looked down at her.  Even in sleep, he could see the pain behind her features.  He could feel the edged pulse and burn of the flames still within her delicate frame.  What a fair facade, he thought, to house something so powerful and great within such lovely vessel.  He pressed a fevered kiss to her forehead, thankful for a moment where such actions would not be noted.  He had a reputation, after all.

Then he carried her the rest of the way to his chambers.

Half-aware of being carried, Summer roused enough to blink at Loki as they entered his rooms. “Where … ?” she managed, trying to look around. “This … ” She flailed a hand loosely.

“Ah, you’re awake,” he tried to sound nonchalant, laying her on the guest bed.  The room was luxuriously furnished and decorated with a sort of organized chaos; papers and books everywhere, a small pile of rune stones on a desk, a tall window with heavy drapes blocking out any view, some sort of tangle of device parts in one corner, as if Loki worked as an inventor in his spare time.  He paid no attention to the clutter as he shoved random objects aside as he lay her down.

“I did not know where you lived, so I brought you here.  And I insist you stay until you have recovered.”  His voice was catching.  He wasn’t sure what was the matter with him.  He suddenly wanted to be rid of her, to be alone with his guilt, drown in his own selfishness.

The old lemonade taste of remorse washed through her mind. Summer managed a grimace, and raised a hand to Loki’s face. “Loki? I’m okay. Promise.” The hand trembled a little. “It’s a sugar crash, okay? What I do takes energy, that’s all. Shh, darlin’.” A little smile curled her lips. Here she was, shaking with lack of energy, and trying to comfort him. How funny.

How familiar.

A little stroke of his cheek, and she let her hand fall. “Can you … help me out a bit? Out of my armour, at least?”