Even at night, the royal gardens were breathtaking. The grounds had been a gift from Odin to Lady Frigga many years ago, before the births of their sons, her boys growing with the garden itself. Sigyn took in the beauty around her; the vast intricate fountains, the moonlight gleaming of the rivulets. The flowers and trees that seemed to carry on forever, remembering back to her childhood when she would run through the enchanted petals, jet black and emerald green following close behind her, their giggles echoing between the willows. She held her lantern in front of her, dipping it gently beside her before letting go of the twisted iron handle, the mass of glass and metal floating beside her, the warm ball of light giving the landscape a fiery glow, as if the gardens had been set ablaze. She drew her thin nightgown closer to her small frame, hugging herself in the chilled air. Her mother had dressed her in her most luxurious night clothes, a gift from her betrothed that her mother had swooned over. She had joked to her mother on many occasions that if she fancied him so much, she could gladly marry her daughter's suitor instead. And on the eve of her wedding day, she wished that her mother had taken her offer. Instead, she treaded barefoot through the gardens in silky hues of her future husband's colors. The gaudy ring of the same colors glinted in the lantern light, making Sigyn's stomach churn.

Her father had chosen her suitor, knowing that if he didn't force her daughter's hand, she would choose not to marry. Her father, the Almighty Bjorn, served as the Allfather's war advisor, leaving her father to choose the handsome swordsman of the Warriors Three to be his future son in law. Fandral the Dashing had been all too willing, a womanizer if Sigyn had ever saw one. She had fought her father on his choice, remembering the many nights she had ran from her childhood home, racing on a family horse to collapse into the arms of another and air her worries.

Sigyn took her time wandering through the gardens, her fingers brushing over every flower, running down the trunk of every tree, taking in the landscape that she had little time left to enjoy. The lantern twirled and dipped, dancing along the breeze as it floated around her. Sigyn stepped over a neat row of flowering bushes, toeing her way around the plants at her feet as she delved off the paved paths of the gardens. The obnoxious train of her nightgown dragged through the soils, knocking the yellow and pink flowers onto their sides, popping back up like a child's toy. She cursed the impractical garment, gathering the watery green fabric in her hands and hoisting in above her knees and venturing deeper into the heightening foliage. She laughed softly, she must have been a sight to be seen, the bride to be with her toes in the dirt and her bridal nightclothes caked in mud. A light breeze pushed her hair into her eyes, Sigyn reaching to brush the stray locks behind her ear. With the breeze came a small cloud of gilded butterflies, each fluttering past her face, their wings tickling her cheeks as they whispered to her in a voice she knew so well, "So beautiful, my Sigyn," they said, "So very beautiful." She giggled, the winged insects fading away in little pops of glimmering light. She smiled, lifted her hand so that the remaining of the cloud could rest upon her finger, the lone survivor's metallic wings glimmering in the moonlight. She smiled, the little beast taking flight once more. She turned, watching as it faded like the rest.

She gasped as she felt arms wrap around her waist, pulling her off her feet and into the sanctuary of the branches of a willow tree, bringing her down onto the tall grass. She laughed, the raven haired Prince's lips brushing against the exposed skin of her neck. "Have I ever told you how exquisite you look in green? I actually quite fancy you in it," he purred against her neck, peppering her skin with little kisses before bringing his lips to hers, the maiden taking his face in her hands, he pulled away from her lips, pressing his forehead to her own, "Shouldn't you be getting your beauty sleep? You have a wedding to attend tomorrow, don't you?" he joked, though they both could hear the heartache in his words.

He rolled onto his back, Sigyn resting on his chest, toying with the lacing detail of his tunic as he pushed down the shoulder of her nightgown, drawing circles with her fingertips on the soft bare skin. She looked up between the branches of the vast tree, seeing the stars in patches, hearing the oceans swell in the distance. She glanced over at him, Loki's eyes locked up on the skies as well. She turned her eyes back to the stars, reaching up and running her fingers through the prince's dark locks. "I do not wish to marry him, Loki," she breathed out, breaking the silence.

Her words hung heavy, the prince sitting up, taking his lover's hands in his own, "Let me speak with my father, Sigyn. I can go wake him now. Let me change this. He can speak to your father,"

"It won't change anything, Lok,"

"Let me try," green eyes bore into blue, "Let me speak to my father, tell him of us. Or I-I can object at the wedding. Just let me change this."

She touched his cheek, Loki leaning into her palm, "I don't know if you can."

"You can't marry that show bird," he took her face in his hands, once again touching his forehead to hers, "Let me object the wedding. I'll ask your father for your hand. Surely, your father would rather you marry an heir to Asgard's throne," Sigyn laughed, Loki smiling and pressing a kiss to her nose, "I love you. I've loved you for years. You belong by my side. I'll object during the wedding and we can be together, Sigyn. I'm done hiding. I'm done sneaking around. I want you as my own, to make you my wife, for you to be the queen you are," he tucked her hair behind her ear, "I can make you happy, Sigyn."

"You already make me so happy. I want nothing more than to be yours."

"Then let me change all of this," he started into another grandeur of romantics when she pressed her fingers to his lips.

"I'm leaving, Loki."

The prince jumped onto his knees, facing her, a mixed look of shock and panic riddling his face, "What?"

"I'm leaving."

"When?" he sputtered, "Sigyn, you surely can't. You don't have to run from this, I can fix this. I can fix this all right now."

She took his hands, lacing her fingers with his own, "Tonight. I'm leaving tonight, Loki. You can't tell your father, it will ruin your reputation if the whole kingdom knows you've been sneaking around with an engaged woman."

His hands were once again at her face, his long fingers caressing her cheeks, "Let them think what they will of me. I am in love with you. I have been since we were children. You can't expect me to sit idly by and watch as you are taken away from me. I'll go know. I'll wake my father and demand the wedding be called off. Hel, I'll duel Fandral if I have to. You are mine and I will make you my wife and this stupid betrothal can't keep you from me. But you can't run from this; from me. You can't leave, Sigyn. Where would you go?"

She curled her fingers around his wrists, lifting her head to press a kiss to his palm, "I have to leave, Loki. I love you, but this cannot be corrected. You know my father, how stubborn he is. His mind cannot be changed."

"Where shall you go, Sig?"

"Midgard."Loki looked at her like she had gone completely mad, opening his mouth to protest, but Sigyn continued to speak, "I've been visiting one of the cities there. I have found people there who are willing to help me. I have a place to stay, I'll be safe there."

The prince's eyes grew wet, tears racing down his cheeks and he begged his love to stay, "You can't go." He simply said, his eyes never leaving hers.

She brushed the tears away, offering him a smile through her own tears, "I'll come back. Once this has all blown over."

"You can't leave."

"Loki, I have to."

"You don't," he choked out, his voice rising in his panic, "You can't. You can't just leave me here. What am I supposed to do without you?"

She pulled him close to her, folding him into her embrace, "Come with me,"

He grabbed her by her shoulders, yanking her away from him and staring her down. She's mad, he thought, absolutely insane. "You know I can't do that."

"I know," she smiled solemnly, "But how beautiful would it be if you did?"

"You don't have to do this. Come on now, get up. We are going to see the Allfather," Loki stood, brushing the dirt off of his legs and holding his hand out for her. But she sat, staring out upon the gardens. He thrusted his hand at her, his heart pounded in his chest and he felt as if he would be ill, "Sigyn, please," she just sat, "Sigyn Bjornson, you stand up this instant," he demanded, taking on a straighter stature and lifting his chin, the tears rolling once more. She sat and looked out upon the gardens.

"Remember when used to play here? When we were so young? We were so innocent." She said, tears glassy on her cheeks, "You used to chase me through the flowers."

He looked down upon her, "I do remember."

"Oh, how I wish we could return to those days."

"As do I, my love," he whispered, staring down at her, his eyes heavy with tears. "I suppose you've made up your mind."

"I have."

"Will you at least let me see you off?" he whispered, knowing damn well that if he raised his voice he would cry like a child. His hand was still held out to her, a desperate attempt to keep her with him. She reached for his hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him.

"I promise I'll return," she whispered, pressing her lips to his collarbone.

"When you return, you shall return a queen, I promise you that."

"I don't need any of that. As long as you are waiting for me when I return."

She tugged on the hem of the dress they had given her, the unfamiliar fabric foreign to her skin, "Its rather short, don't you think?" Loki took in the sight of her in Midgardian clothes. She looked uncomfortable. The simple dress fit her quite well, the deep orange color of the smooth fabric flattering against her skin, still tanned from her time outside, paired with a flowered shirt underneath. The shoes were rather strange, like the boots he and his brother wore, but short with a strange fastener on the back, "Apparently, it's rather fashionable among the women of Midgard."

"You look lovely," he squeezed her hand, fearing what was to come next. Heimdall waited for her in the Observatory, looking out over the Rainbow Bridge that the lovers stood upon. Sigyn looked towards the gate keeper, Heimdall nodding at the maiden. Loki's hand wouldn't leave her own, squeezing her fingers tight. She turned back to him, reaching up to touch his face. He leaned into her touch, reaching up to grasp the fingers that cupped his cheek. He met her eyes, green begging with blue, silently begging her to stay. Tears welled in her own eyes as she pulled the prince against her, Loki quick to wrap his arms around his childhood love, tears wetting her hair as he kissed her head. "Please, Sigyn," he whispered, "You don't have to do this."

She clung to him, dreading the moment in which she would have to let go. "I have to go." She lifted herself onto her toes, capturing her lover's lips for a final time. Loki tightened his embrace, taking in their final moments together.

"Milady," the young lovers turned to face the gilded gatekeeper, "It is time."

Loki nodded, turning to face his love once more. Sigyn placed her hands on his chest, eyes locked on the luminescence under their feet. She couldn't look at him; she couldn't see the pain in his eyes. It would only make her want to stay more than she already did. She wanted to spend all eternity wrapped in his warm embrace. She wanted to spend her days by his side, dressed in the colors of her husband. She wanted to spend each night in his bed, pressed against him, bodies tangled together under the sheets. They couldn't have that though. At least, not now. She refused to marry Fandral, but she refused to ruin Loki's chances at the throne. She felt his finger slip under her chin, lifting her face up to his, "You return to me, do you understand? Come home to me, my love."

She smiled, a fresh wave of tears streaming down her cheeks, "Don't forget me while I'm away."

"I could never forget you, my love," he whispered, tightening his embrace, as if that could keep here there with him, "Just return to me."

She pulled away from him, their fingers still intertwined as she started towards the observatory. He clung to her, a final look of desperation marring his beautiful face. She softened her expression, trying her hardest to persuade him to let her go without saying a word, fearing the decision she would make if she spoke and allowed the tears she held back to fall. She offered him a sad smile, hoping that she could stay strong for both of their sake's, encouraging him to let go. As soon as his fingers slipped out of hers, she wanted to run back. He nodded back at her, offering a smile, his lips trembling as tears threatened to fall.

She took steps backwards, afraid that is she looked away, she would forget what he looked like. She was terrified that she would come to forget just how green his eyes were, or the way his hair curled up at the ends. She feared that she would forget the way the moonlight cast across his face, or the shape of his lips; the way they felt pressed against hers. The way they felt as they explored her skin, their touch lingering even after they lifted away. How his breath would tickle her skin. She was afraid that she would forget his touch, the way his long fingers felt in hers; how they brushed against the back of her hand when they stood with their father's, mischief twinkling in the prince's eyes when he would grab the back of her gown, pulling her behind a bookshelf in the dim corners of the library. She was terrified that she would forget.

Be brave, his voice echoed in her mind, filling her with warmth as she finally turned towards Heimdall. She stood next the gatekeeper, Heimdall bowing slightly to her before opening the gate. And before the flash of light, he was the last thing she saw as she tried to run back to him.

Midgard, 1987

Her feet hit solid ground, her body swaying as she tried to find her balance as the gate closed in another flash of light. She tried to catch her breath, her head spinning as she looked around her, taking in what she could of her surroundings in the inky darkness of night. She found herself surrounded by some sort of crop, the earthy smell of farmland overwhelming her. Loki's eyes still begged with her in the back of her mind, regret and panic flooding over her. She wanted to go back, she wanted to run into his arms and apologize. She was so stupid, this plan was ridiculous. She should have listened to him, by Odin, she should have listened. She was alone, she had no idea where she was, and she was terrified. Before she could turn her head towards the stars and scream to Heimdall to bring her back home, light cut through the field she stood in. Footsteps pounded towards her, panic bubbling in her throat.

The sound of voices echoed in the darkness, the lights coming closer and the footsteps growing louder. "Miss Bjornson!" a familiar voice called.

A man protruded from between the crop, Sigyn recognizing the dark skinned man. Men in dark clothing followed behind him, carrying strange looking weapons in their hands. "Agent Fury," she said, tensing as the men came near, one wrapping a thick blanket around her, the other speaking into the cuff of his jacket.

"We've been waiting for you," he said, gesturing for the Asgardian to follow him, the men following behind her as they walked, "I hope you had safe travels."

"Where am I?"

"Right now, you're standing in the middle of a corn field in Ohio. We should be in New York come morning," he said, leading the woman to a cluster of large black SUVs, other men in suits standing around them. Fury held the door open for her, "Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D."

Enjoy.

-DCAGP