chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

He turned his head at her voice and was met by her beautiful eyes. He stared hard at her, looking for the vilification, the doubt, the blame but found only… sympathy. Was it sympathy? Was it damnable pity? Was it regret at having made his acquaintance the night before?

Her words spoke volumes and made his heart ache as the hope violently rekindled itself, refusing to die.

He swallowed hard.

Oh, this man! Why did he tug at her heart so? Barely a day since they met, and she wanted to shield him from all the slings and arrows of a cruel universe. But he was proud, so proud. She thought perhaps even offering would wound that pride. Even speaking her sympathy would hurt him more.

Trying to keep her breathing calm, her bearing open, she returned him look for look under the stars, and hoped the darkness would conceal the desperate clenching of her hands in her lap. Patience. Let him come to her.

The moonlight gave Sigyn an ethereal glow and Loki couldn’t hold back any longer. Whether she was real or not, he would satisfy this small tendril of hope, if only for tonight. He would take the axe, the despair, later. Tonight he would give himself the sweetest lie.

He reached up, caressing her cheek gently. When she didn’t pull away, he turned to her and pulled her in for a kiss, his second hand coming up to wrap itself around the other side of her face, his fingers softly playing in her hair.

Loki’s kiss, the subtle shift of mood, nearly took Sigyn by surprise. Even here, in the one place in Asgard she felt most at home, to be desired was out of her ken. Nevertheless, she surrendered helplessly to his mouth, to the feel of his hands on her skin, twining her arms about his neck.

Her tongue begged entrance to his mouth, and delicate fingers wound themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, sliding beneath his collar.

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Sigyn listened silently, letting her hands play up and down his spine while he talked. Dusk deepened to true night before he finished, and the little valley was hushed with the sounds of darkness. When Loki trailed off finally, she gently freed herself from his hold and stepped over to the stream.

It was the work of just a moment to fashion a cup from a borrowed leaf. “Drink, my lord,” she said softly, holding it out. There was something else in his past, she could sense it in the way he had stopped, but that would keep for another time. She understood, now, his constant tension, his amazement at her responses, and yet she could not help but feel sympathy for him, struggling so hard to be … what?

To live up to others’ expectations? How familiar a feeling, that.

“My prince, these are painful memories. Will you not put them aside for now?” she asked, voice soft.

He felt a little vulnerable when she pulled away from his arms. His mind raced. Had he said too much? Did she judge him unworthy by his past actions? Would she shun him now, as the others had? He clenched his jaw and cursed that small flame of hope that had been allowed to take root in his heart. Here was the let down. He should have expected this.

When Sigyn offered him the water, he took it, glad for the opportunity to wet his lips. He nodded silently at her words and turned away from her bringing his knees up to his elbows. He looked up into the stars again and wondered when she would drop the final axe. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later so he could carry on and chalk this up to an unfortunate lapse in judgement.

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

He turned his head at her voice and was met by her beautiful eyes. He stared hard at her, looking for the vilification, the doubt, the blame but found only… sympathy. Was it sympathy? Was it damnable pity? Was it regret at having made his acquaintance the night before?

Her words spoke volumes and made his heart ache as the hope violently rekindled itself, refusing to die.

He swallowed hard.

Oh, this man! Why did he tug at her heart so? Barely a day since they met, and she wanted to shield him from all the slings and arrows of a cruel universe. But he was proud, so proud. She thought perhaps even offering would wound that pride. Even speaking her sympathy would hurt him more.

Trying to keep her breathing calm, her bearing open, she returned him look for look under the stars, and hoped the darkness would conceal the desperate clenching of her hands in her lap. Patience. Let him come to her.

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Tucking her head under Loki’s chin, Sigyn carefully stroked his back, humming softly under her breath. As his muscles loosened, soothing strokes morphed into lazy tracing of the bones under his skin, and she sighed longingly. The falling light, so similar to her own magic, made her feel safe, at peace, and a little bold.

“My lord?” she whispered against his throat. “Will you not tell me what troubles you so?”

Loki sat silently for a moment, then started to relay his tale to Sigyn. He kept his eyes on the night sky, voice low, arms around her and breath as even as he was able.

He told her of Thor’s coronation day and the disaster that came from his ruse to wreck the day. He tried to tell her he had not wanted things to turn out as they had, but had trouble articulating the feelings. He told her of the destruction of the bifrost, the last words his father had spoken to him and his voice trailed off.

He swallowed hard against the memories of the Abyss and shook his head. He could not speak of it. The horrors of that time were still too painful, too real. He relived them when he had an unguarded moment and he wandered into that part of his mind where he had tried to bury the memories.

He shifted slightly and let out another sigh.

Sigyn listened silently, letting her hands play up and down his spine while he talked. Dusk deepened to true night before he finished, and the little valley was hushed with the sounds of darkness. When Loki trailed off finally, she gently freed herself from his hold and stepped over to the stream.

It was the work of just a moment to fashion a cup from a borrowed leaf. “Drink, my lord,” she said softly, holding it out. There was something else in his past, she could sense it in the way he had stopped, but that would keep for another time. She understood, now, his constant tension, his amazement at her responses, and yet she could not help but feel sympathy for him, struggling so hard to be … what?

To live up to others’ expectations? How familiar a feeling, that.

“My prince, these are painful memories. Will you not put them aside for now?” she asked, voice soft.

He felt a little vulnerable when she pulled away from his arms. His mind raced. Had he said too much? Did she judge him unworthy by his past actions? Would she shun him now, as the others had? He clenched his jaw and cursed that small flame of hope that had been allowed to take root in his heart. Here was the let down. He should have expected this.

When Sigyn offered him the water, he took it, glad for the opportunity to wet his lips. He nodded silently at her words and turned away from her bringing his knees up to his elbows. He looked up into the stars again and wondered when she would drop the final axe. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later so he could carry on and chalk this up to an unfortunate lapse in judgement.

The line of his profile was sharp and pure in the moonlight, and Sigyn found her heart aching. Loki so clearly expected further condemnation, and yet all she felt was sympathy. Did they not all make mistakes? He had acted in good faith, of love for king and realm, and only a cruel fate had twisted it awry.

Deliberately, she knelt before his huddled body. “I will not let thee go,” she repeated, watching him with grave violet eyes, sliding into a familiar mode of speech, and added, “alone. Wilt not turn and speak to me?”

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.” 

Sigyn’s words washed over him like a soft, comfortable wave of relief. He let out a gentle sigh and continued to hold her as the sun went down and twilight set in, bringing out the first stars of the night.

Tucking her head under Loki’s chin, Sigyn carefully stroked his back, humming softly under her breath. As his muscles loosened, soothing strokes morphed into lazy tracing of the bones under his skin, and she sighed longingly. The falling light, so similar to her own magic, made her feel safe, at peace, and a little bold.

“My lord?” she whispered against his throat. “Will you not tell me what troubles you so?”

Loki sat silently for a moment, then started to relay his tale to Sigyn. He kept his eyes on the night sky, voice low, arms around her and breath as even as he was able.

He told her of Thor’s coronation day and the disaster that came from his ruse to wreck the day. He tried to tell her he had not wanted things to turn out as they had, but had trouble articulating the feelings. He told her of the destruction of the bifrost, the last words his father had spoken to him and his voice trailed off.

He swallowed hard against the memories of the Abyss and shook his head. He could not speak of it. The horrors of that time were still too painful, too real. He relived them when he had an unguarded moment and he wandered into that part of his mind where he had tried to bury the memories.

He shifted slightly and let out another sigh.

Sigyn listened silently, letting her hands play up and down his spine while he talked. Dusk deepened to true night before he finished, and the little valley was hushed with the sounds of darkness. When Loki trailed off finally, she gently freed herself from his hold and stepped over to the stream.

It was the work of just a moment to fashion a cup from a borrowed leaf. “Drink, my lord,” she said softly, holding it out. There was something else in his past, she could sense it in the way he had stopped, but that would keep for another time. She understood, now, his constant tension, his amazement at her responses, and yet she could not help but feel sympathy for him, struggling so hard to be … what?

To live up to others’ expectations? How familiar a feeling, that.

“My prince, these are painful memories. Will you not put them aside for now?” she asked, voice soft.

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

“I don’t understand, my lord.” Sigyn frowned. “I am real, I am! I — how can I prove this to you? Surely your waking life is not so terrible that … that the presence of someone as unworthy as I seems a dream?” She bit her lip, looking at him with fear and pity and a whirling, confusing sense of a pit opening up at her feet.

Loki said nothing but hugged her tightly into his chest. He had no answers for her nor any for himself. He felt as if he had been given another chance, but the hope… the hope made him waver. If he had no hope, nothing could be taken from him, none could hurt him. He knew all too well how much hope could kill your soul once it was decidedly terminated by someone or something. He didn’t know if he could handle this feeling right now. He didn’t know much of anything. He closed his eyes, resting his head on hers and held her as tightly as he could.

Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.” 

Sigyn’s words washed over him like a soft, comfortable wave of relief. He let out a gentle sigh and continued to hold her as the sun went down and twilight set in, bringing out the first stars of the night.

Tucking her head under Loki’s chin, Sigyn carefully stroked his back, humming softly under her breath. As his muscles loosened, soothing strokes morphed into lazy tracing of the bones under his skin, and she sighed longingly. The falling light, so similar to her own magic, made her feel safe, at peace, and a little bold.

“My lord?” she whispered against his throat. “Will you not tell me what troubles you so?”

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

She leaned into his strength and desperately tried to stop trembling. “You do me far too much honour, my prince. I only tried to protect you. Please, do not praise me for something so simple.” His arms were warm and safe around her, and she wanted nothing more, right now, than to rest in their comfort forever.

Tipping her face up, she pressed her mouth to Loki’s softly, letting her eyes fall closed.

He kissed her, raising one hand to her cheek and tightening the other arm around her. A quiet moan came from deep in his throat and his mind became a muddle of thoughts. Thankfully, thoughts of their battle were quickly becoming replaced by thoughts of Sigyn and only Sigyn: the first time he saw her, nearly plowing over her, their escapades in his chambers, what he wished to do to her next and then the doubt came flooding over him.

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes and ran his thumb gently near her eye. He smiled sadly and sighed almost soundlessly. “I fear you are not real, dear Sigyn. These two days have been… too much like a dream…” He smiled again and ran his hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand, my lord.” Sigyn frowned. “I am real, I am! I — how can I prove this to you? Surely your waking life is not so terrible that … that the presence of someone as unworthy as I seems a dream?” She bit her lip, looking at him with fear and pity and a whirling, confusing sense of a pit opening up at her feet.

Loki said nothing but hugged her tightly into his chest. He had no answers for her nor any for himself. He felt as if he had been given another chance, but the hope… the hope made him waver. If he had no hope, nothing could be taken from him, none could hurt him. He knew all too well how much hope could kill your soul once it was decidedly terminated by someone or something. He didn’t know if he could handle this feeling right now. He didn’t know much of anything. He closed his eyes, resting his head on hers and held her as tightly as he could.

Sigyn blinked, deeply troubled by Loki’s silence and the way he was clinging to her. Although it was she who was wrapped in his arms as in a cocoon, she felt he was clinging to her for comfort. “Please, my lord,” she whispered, insinuating her arms about his waist, “I will not let you go.” 

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

With an effort, she opened her eyes, looking up at Loki. Now that the danger was past, her heart was in her throat and her limbs felt weak. “I am not hurt, my lord.” Her knees gave out, and she sank to the grass, starting to shake. “Only frightened.”

Loki knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Sigyn, I… that was… amazing! We’re alright now… bilgesnipe never travel in packs… there is no danger… your magic is… it’s beautiful… “

She leaned into his strength and desperately tried to stop trembling. “You do me far too much honour, my prince. I only tried to protect you. Please, do not praise me for something so simple.” His arms were warm and safe around her, and she wanted nothing more, right now, than to rest in their comfort forever.

Tipping her face up, she pressed her mouth to Loki’s softly, letting her eyes fall closed.

He kissed her, raising one hand to her cheek and tightening the other arm around her. A quiet moan came from deep in his throat and his mind became a muddle of thoughts. Thankfully, thoughts of their battle were quickly becoming replaced by thoughts of Sigyn and only Sigyn: the first time he saw her, nearly plowing over her, their escapades in his chambers, what he wished to do to her next and then the doubt came flooding over him.

He pulled back slightly to look into her eyes and ran his thumb gently near her eye. He smiled sadly and sighed almost soundlessly. “I fear you are not real, dear Sigyn. These two days have been… too much like a dream…” He smiled again and ran his hand through her hair.

“I don’t understand, my lord.” Sigyn frowned. “I am real, I am! I — how can I prove this to you? Surely your waking life is not so terrible that … that the presence of someone as unworthy as I seems a dream?” She bit her lip, looking at him with fear and pity and a whirling, confusing sense of a pit opening up at her feet.

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Sigyn summoned and fired at speed, two and then three arrows in the air at once. She hadn’t practised since she left Alfheim, but panic brought her old skill back, and the arrows marched down the beast’s flank, heading for its heart.

Still it came on, though, apparently unfazed. Casting her bow aside, Sigyn clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and called out to the forest around her. Vines slid down from the trees, grasses entangled the bilgesnipe’s hooves, and finally, finally the beast slowed.

With a groan the bilgesnipe toppled over, unable to move its legs. Loki was breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He turned and walked quickly to Sigyn. He put one hand on her arm and the other to her hair, looking at her with concern. “Are you… hurt? Are you alright?”

With an effort, she opened her eyes, looking up at Loki. Now that the danger was past, her heart was in her throat and her limbs felt weak. “I am not hurt, my lord.” Her knees gave out, and she sank to the grass, starting to shake. “Only frightened.”

Loki knelt beside her and wrapped his arms around her. “Sigyn, I… that was… amazing! We’re alright now… bilgesnipe never travel in packs… there is no danger… your magic is… it’s beautiful… “

She leaned into his strength and desperately tried to stop trembling. “You do me far too much honour, my prince. I only tried to protect you. Please, do not praise me for something so simple.” His arms were warm and safe around her, and she wanted nothing more, right now, than to rest in their comfort forever.

Tipping her face up, she pressed her mouth to Loki’s softly, letting her eyes fall closed.

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

A hot flush of energy ran through Sigyn’s limbs. Instinctively, she snapped out a hand and called her bow, moon-bright with silver inlay and already strung taut. A swift glance told her that Loki had only daggers, with which he would have to approach far too close for safety.

“‘Ware, my lord!” she cried. She summoned an arrow and fired in one breath; the shot whirred past the bilgesnipe’s head.

Loki was shocked seeing the arrow fly at the animal’s head, he quickly recovered and threw both daggers. One pierced the beast’s eye and the other bounced off an antler. He cursed and summoned a ball of energy and whipped it with all his strength at the still advancing creature.

Sigyn summoned and fired at speed, two and then three arrows in the air at once. She hadn’t practised since she left Alfheim, but panic brought her old skill back, and the arrows marched down the beast’s flank, heading for its heart.

Still it came on, though, apparently unfazed. Casting her bow aside, Sigyn clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and called out to the forest around her. Vines slid down from the trees, grasses entangled the bilgesnipe’s hooves, and finally, finally the beast slowed.

With a groan the bilgesnipe toppled over, unable to move its legs. Loki was breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He turned and walked quickly to Sigyn. He put one hand on her arm and the other to her hair, looking at her with concern. “Are you… hurt? Are you alright?”

With an effort, she opened her eyes, looking up at Loki. Now that the danger was past, her heart was in her throat and her limbs felt weak. “I am not hurt, my lord.” Her knees gave out, and she sank to the grass, starting to shake. “Only frightened. “

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

chaosmustbemaintained:

i-am-the-firechild:

Her heartbeat sped up at the gentle brush of his hand. “T-they tell all who look upon me what magics I have in my mastery. Around my eyes for that my senses may be enhanced. The feathers of a bird for that my magic is that of the deep forest and the wild lands.” Sigyn tried to breathe, closing her eyes against his touch. “And the colour of dusk for that my magic is also that of the shadows and the soft night.”

“Fascinating…” he whispered gently under his breath. He put his hand under her chin and softly lifted her head until she was looking at him. “They are beautiful, Sigyn… I have never seen anything like it…” He gave a warm smile that crumpled into a concerned frown when he heard the crashing noise coming from behind them.

He pushed himself up, careful to set Sigyn on her feet, and drew out his daggers. He placed himself between the line of trees and Sigyn and every muscle tensed as the bilgesnipe came plowing through the underbrush.

A hot flush of energy ran through Sigyn’s limbs. Instinctively, she snapped out a hand and called her bow, moon-bright with silver inlay and already strung taut. A swift glance told her that Loki had only daggers, with which he would have to approach far too close for safety.

“‘Ware, my lord!” she cried. She summoned an arrow and fired in one breath; the shot whirred past the bilgesnipe’s head.

Loki was shocked seeing the arrow fly at the animal’s head, he quickly recovered and threw both daggers. One pierced the beast’s eye and the other bounced off an antler. He cursed and summoned a ball of energy and whipped it with all his strength at the still advancing creature.

Sigyn summoned and fired at speed, two and then three arrows in the air at once. She hadn’t practised since she left Alfheim, but panic brought her old skill back, and the arrows marched down the beast’s flank, heading for its heart.

Still it came on, though, apparently unfazed. Casting her bow aside, Sigyn clasped her hands together, closed her eyes, and called out to the forest around her. Vines slid down from the trees, grasses entangled the bilgesnipe’s hooves, and finally, finally the beast slowed.