Authors note - I'm shit. I'm so sorry for the continued delays here - I've written a book, and a novella, both of which I'm trying to get ready for September to query them out! All my other writing had to take a bit of a back burner as I worked to actually get these original pieces actually finished. I'm trying to finish this though, as it's super important to me and I love Aela and Loki so much.

Hope you enjoy!

The feather stared at her from within the thin wooden box, overshadowing the allure of everything on the table. The fresh juices, fruits, breads and meats that had enticed her in; that had allowed her to nod and smile and even briefly enjoy a conversation with Frigga about fabric choices and necklines...all of it faded to nothing as the food within her mouth felt as if it had changed to ash. Aela forced it down as swiftly as she'd forced the smile on her face, ensuring it was as genuine as every other forced expression she'd given since arriving.

If anyone noticed, no-one said a word. She slid the lid back on and had simply placed the box on her lap without a word. She couldn't ask one of the Bjornlings to take it, not without being sure that there were no magical ears at the table, listening in. Spying, testing her, wondering what item was within the shining mahogany box.

She delicately sliced at her melon, her beautifully cured meats. She made small talk, asking Thor whether he'd had a chance to look at the cake selections the patisserie had sent. Whether he was going to be going hunting soon, and whether there would be room for her within the festivities this time.

Whether Isla had decided that she was going to be a maiden at the wedding.

Whether Frigga felt an indoor or outdoor affair would be better.

Desperate to just...leave. Unable to, not til it was appropriate to do so. Not until she'd made a show of opening the rest of her meagre post, invitations from members of the court, requests from the local mages college to allow them to study the bjornlings, to study her, requests from parents hoping their children might join her training sessions…

The box, once light as a; - and she couldn't help but scoff at the irony of the word feather - now felt like lead upon her lap. Heavy with the weight of its oppression, its lingering malice. It was a wonder her future in-laws couldn't feel it, given how the bjornlings kept glancing her way - far more sensitive to the magical energies than she.

Aela had caught but a glimpse of the contents before swiftly moving it away, out of sight but most definitely not out of mind.

"A fucking feather!" she roared, hurling the box at a wall the moment they returned to her chambers. The room stilled, the staff inside stationary as they stared at the varnished box as if it contained one of their own, returned to their midsts in death.

"She sends two assasins after me, and most certainly sends shitting HORVERGLACE and has the gall to patronise me with a feather?!"

A stillness set about the chambers, letting the lady rant, the fine floating quality of her morning gown only seeming to exaggerate her strength, rather than placate it.

Finally, sick of watching her pace; Isla spoke. "Do you want to send something back?"

"Something? I'll send her bloody something - I'd send her her own assassins head back but we had to fucking burn it! God DAMN it"

"It wouldn't have made it through the pass anyway" Eirik mused from the window ledge, "otherwise when the lovely asgardian soldiers opened the package to check it would survive the winter…"

"Hello dismembered head" Aela muttered, gesturing sarcastically. "I know...I'd have thought the lack of returns on her assasin investments would have taught her to just leave well alone but no she manages to send some sort of Horverglace to try and remove me from the picture. And now, above all else to send this"

"She just wants to rile you, I mean honestly, who sends feathers these days? 'Just to let you know, I'm still watching you so watch yourself' - just send another assassin, it's less...wet"

Aela palmed the weight of her throwing daggers, firing each one at the targets she'd rigged in the side room with precision; the act of destruction feeling good against the stress. "I need…"

"What do you need, my lady?" Eirik teased, sauntering from his breezy spot to bow before her. "Your wish is of course, my command"

"I would like to go for a run, and then a swim. And tonight...I think I'm running low on reading material"

He groaned, rolling his eyes. "So training. You want to train. We could all be washing that anger down in the tavern, you know"

Aela ignored the temptation of his words. "Not just me, or us. Everyone. I don't want a single member of our household falling victim to Eilin if she, or her horrible little family is still watching us"

Thor stood in one of the open windows, staring down at the open grass whilst ignoring the sounds of clashing weapons, grunting soldiers and complaining behind him. He knew he should have been training alongside the others, but had found himself instead incredibly distracted as of late by his fiance.

She'd shocked him at the lake, more so than he wanted to admit. He'd expected her to just lay there, eating small bites of food and sipping wine alongside the other ladies...he hadn't expected her to dive into the lake from a cliff and drag one of his favourite courtly maidens out onto the shore. She'd floored him when she'd faced with the Ice Golum...the Hervgulm or whatever it was called in her people's tongue. He'd seen her fly into certain death and come back as if Hel itself had ceased to exist.

He was still reeling now. He hadn't expected her to be crowned God of the Hunt, but seeing her dance across that battlefield it wasn't overly surprising, he supposed. It was unimaginable though, unexpected. He'd always imagined a demure, beautiful bride on his arm as king. He had, of course, before that day told her she would obviously become Goddess of Beauty; he'd actually expected her to be crowned Goddess of Winter, or Snow, or perhaps even Beasts. She was attractive, but not quite Goddess of Beauty level, not that he'd ever admit it to her though.

God of the Hunt…

It was manly, and in his own mind he was almost proud of that.

He'd been shocked at first, obviously. He'd felt grey at the idea of it, but he'd warmed. He would be a powerful king, that much was true, but could only be more powerful still with a warrior queen by his side. Like the valkyries of old, she would rule beside him and naught would be daft enough to try and stand in their way. And those who did...well if he didn't smite them on the spot he had certainty Aela would. The only thing emasculating him now was the fact he couldn't stop blushing like the aforementioned virginial maidens when she passed by. Her smile when she greeted him that morning before breakfast was almost roguish; how had he never noticed the small flick of fang before? The way her hair shone almost russet in the glow from the morning sunrise...He could imagine her in gold armour, matching his own. Her own was strange, not fitting for an Asgardian warrior queen - no, she'd need an entirely new set immediately, no strange runic carvings. Pure, Asgardian gold, harder than any substance yet light, malleable. Magical.

It was the least a monarch of Asgard should have.

The very least the God of the Hunt should bear arms to. He could see her now, running across the lawn in the slow, sticky glow of the midday sun, flanked by her bears and followed by what could only be her entire staff. Her hair was high on her head, the plait bouncing behind her with every step. It was mesmerising; like a metronome.

"Not joining the group today, brother?" a voice came from behind him, and he chuckled, turning towards Loki.

"What do you make of that, Loki?" he asked, pointing at the spectacle below.

The younger prince stepped forwards, making a soft humming noise as he observed the figures in the distance. "It appears" he responded, deadpan, "and I'm no expert, so I could of course be incorrect...but my guess is that they might, be running"

Thor laughed, the booming sound bouncing around the room, "I am aware of that, Loki, but why is the Lady Aela running?"

"The same reason we're in here, I suppose"

He was silent for some time, just watching his future wife move swiftly across the lawn, long legs creating wide, even strides.

"I think I may take her to the caves soon, what do you think?"

"Well" Loki replied, "Given that I was the one who recommended it I'd say yes, I think Aela would enjoy that"

Thor wrapped his arm around his brother, gripping his slim shoulder firmly and giving him a friendly shake.

"You know brother, you really understand her. I'm not sure what I'd do without you at my side!"

Loki chuckled slightly, making Thor smile. He hated seeing his brother so dour, and enjoyed the friendship the two shared. His own friends liked Loki, even if they often played at being annoyed; but he knew within his heart that they were no more annoyed than any friends of an older sibling being forced to play with the younger. Seeing Loki walking with the future queen, reading in the library with her companions, it made his heart swell. He caught his brother's eyes, grinning as the younger Asgardian replied, entirely deadpan but obviously joking. "Likely cause some form of diplomatic incident, I imagine"

Loki wished he could say there weren't many times where he felt things were unfair. If anyone asked him, he would of course lie and say his brother was of course the most fit to rule and of course the most suitable match for Aela. He would smile and say exactly what a supportive, loving brother should say and would be believed, because his job was to be perfect and he'd perfected that oh so long ago.

He'd perfected the art of being perfectly supportive.

He'd perfected the art of being perfectly second for so long that his entire legacy was based around his linguistic skills, silver tongued Loki, mischievous Loki, second fiddle to the glorious, resplendent Thor. He'd never doubted himself for more than a minute, had always been certain in regards to his own intelligence and knowledge. His instincts were second to none...and they were all currently screaming at him that this was unfair. His plans were sound, they'd existed before she'd arrived; carefully crafted after years of intricate planning. Small words and suggestions planted within his oafish brothers brain about frost giants and glory and threats...but now he had doubt. There was more to lose, bigger stakes. He sipped the brandy, leaning back in his chair and breathing deeply, contemplating whether it would be too risky to involve her in his plans. She was cunning, and power thirsty, just as much as he himself was but with more to lose - or less, depending on the viewpoint.

He was getting...soft. Even here, in the privacy of his own chambers, her eyes, her pirate grin, her smell, the entirety of her was splitting his thoughts, his determination.

No...

His head snapped up from the bronze liquid of his drink. That really was her aura. Her thoughts, her scent, carried in by the faintest breeze. Bjornlings and dragonfire and the new power of godgifts. It was faint, so faint, but enough to make him curious. He pulled his power to him, the softest ripple in the ether. It came naturally, like breathing as he made himself vanish, as he abandoned his glass of brandy to more interesting pastures. He didn't need doors to move between his rooms. Hadn't since he was a child. Moreso used them as it was what was expected of him, and if he stopped it would no longer be unexpected when he slid through a wall.

What on earth was she doing here? In his chambers, in a room with only one door that led to where Loki had just been sat? He smirked, the expression known only to himself. Speaking of expectations...well this wasn't at all how he'd expected this evening to go. He believed in fate, when it suited him; and this felt like such a divine force. He'd anticipated this evening would be spent simply resting; possibly moping a touch and wrestling with his own feelings on the (personal) safety of including another in his plans for obtaining the throne.

Instead, here he was... hidden in a magical shadow, watching a Niflheim thief raid his library. He'd obviously noticed books missing over the last few months, but there was no logical order to the missing items - they weren't all poetry, or stories, or tomes related to secrets of his kingdom...they were a bizarre mix of history, poetry, textbooks - nothing that made sense. He'd assumed one of his servants was perhaps indulging - and as the books had always returned a few days later in perfect condition he hadn't yet seen the need to give it more than a moment's thought.

He'd admired the gall.

And yet here she was. A figure, clothed from head to toe in black fabric that managed to simultaneously give protection and seduction, scaling one of the ladders as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ironic really, that he'd spent weeks attempting to find a way to invite her into his chambers that wouldn't be suspicious...and yet here she was, obviously a frequent visitor from her familiar attitude to his belongings. She knew not to step on the fourth rung of the ladder, as it groaned. She climbed down to slide the well oiled ladder across, rather than push off and risk toppling it over the...yes, there she was lifting it slightly over the fifth floorboard to the right of the centre bookcase. It was ancient, and you had to know it's little quirks. She'd obviously learned the quirks of the old room the hard way, whilst he'd been out.

Of course, he knew instantly who it was. There was no hiding those horns, that figure; as swathed in black as it was, and he almost laughed as he realised he truly needed to get information out of Volstagg; realising why the oaf had suddenly taken a respectful liking to the woman. Even if the right leather and cloth was limiting her figure, taking some of the softness from her shape; There were no others in Asgard with those horns. He wanted to hit himself when he realised he'd seen this figure before. The fighting ability she wielded would obviously spread to hand to hand... How he hadn't noticed it was her back in that fighting ring he had no clue.

But what was she doing? He of course knew what she was doing, the question he should be asking he supposed...was why? And how?

Meandering over to the window and leaning from within its confines, he spotted now the daggers placed at intervals - he'd never thought to check. Who, in their right mind after all, would scale the side of a tower where a fall would certainly mean instant death? For books?

Aela, apparently. He smiled, not bothering to even try and subdue it whilst invisible. He would never be able to live without this woman, and knew instantly she would be brought into his plans.

She was stood at the base of the ladder now, delicately tracing the titles, and he watched as she slid two out of their homes, observing them in the light before choosing one and placing it into the bag at her hip.

'Battle Tactics of Vanaheim Leaders between 400 and 700' - an interesting choice.

The small, mischievous voice within him that so often guided his decisions noted within him know that they were alone. None of his servants were in, his brother would no doubt be gallivanting off across asgard…

There was no-one but himself to stop his actions. Not that he would do anything serious, of course. Only tease. Only make his strength, his power known. He slowly, silently approached her, watching as she closed her bag, returning to her position looking over his collection before making his move - one hand ghosting down her arm. He couldn't help the thrill that ran through him at the sight, and sensation, of her tensing against him, goosebumps rising on the skin of her arm.

"Hello little thief, what do you think you're doing?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and he smirked, feeling completely and utterly in control as he lent a teasing tone to his voice. She tensed beneath him as if to strike and he quickly slid his hand onto her own, pressing it flat against the books to trap it in place and repeating the small, intimate gesture she'd inflicted on him whilst riding back to Asgard. "Aela, why are you sneaking into my chambers?"

She relaxed against him and he hated how instantly it set his pulse alight. To know that she felt relaxed enough to soften her shoulders and breathe a sigh of relief was astounding and exhilarating all in one. "I...Loki…"

"Now now, this isn't like you...or is it?"

He could practically feel her pulse racing against his hand where it had found a slip of skin at her wrist; could tell how much he was affecting her, and he knew, with absolute certainty that it wasn't fear. She slapped his hand away and span, but he was quicker than she anticipated and he pinned her hard against the bookcase, lifting his hand to her chin and lowering the cloth from her face so it pooled at her neck.

"If you had just asked, I think you'll find there's little I wouldn't give you, Aela"

"Rather takes the thrill from it though, don't you think?" She replied, smirking up at him. A smirk that spoke to very essence of himself, one that tore at his control like a battering ram. He was obsidian though, immovable.

"An interesting viewpoint" he mused, words dying slightly on his tongue as he caught the look on her face.

She had flushed red, and was biting her lip, the indented flesh crimson and flushed beneath the pressure. She had to know what she was doing, someone with such a repertoire of masks. His control was steadfast though, and he would of course step away in just a moment. Would linger just long enough to make her realise the line they were treading. They were close, closer than he'd realised; his entire body essentially pressed against hers. Her breath was warm against his face, and his hand was still gently held against her chin as he found his gaze locked with hers.

Even. Steady. No looking down at such a proud warrior; those glowing fires were his equal in every way.

It took no effort to finally press his lips against hers. It would be considered impulsive, if he hadn't been thinking about it for oh so long. It was the crumbling of will, rather than the sudden rush of impulse.

Inevitable.

She groaned against him, one hand interlaced with his, one hand immediately shifting down to squeeze at his waist as if she could possibly even begin to hold him closer. The kiss deepened instantly; a small moan escaping them both as his tongue moved against hers. The sound hung in the air between their interconnected lips, lighting a fire within them both with unimaginable ferocity, kindled further as he hoisted her up; thighs wrapping themselves tight around his waist. He was half hard against her and knew she could feel it, knew from the sheer pliant heat of her that the feeling was mutual. Her hands moved upwards, interlacing with the hair at the back of his scratch of her nails against his scalp, the pull of the strands between her fingers...it was more incredible than anything he'd ever experienced.

It was perfect, intoxicating, no kiss in his entire life had ever felt this-

She pushed him away, her hand connecting with his face swiftly, causing pain to bloom across his cheek. It heightened the pleasure in the same breath as taking it away.

"Loki, what in the ancestors name are you doing?"

He faltered, stepping back slightly. She slid down from his waist looking almost undone, face bright, breast heaving; matching exactly how he felt internally. The only difference, confusingly, was the angry expression on her tattooed visage.

"What I think we've both been wanting to do for some time, if I'm not mistaken"

"Loki, don't be ridiculous!" she snapped, pointing at him aggressively as she spoke. "I am engaged to your brother!"

"And the mere idea of that makes me more angry than you can even imagine!" He retorted, wanting to step in close to her again and knowing not to. "I truly love my brother more than anyone, but it is catastrophically unfair that not only does he get the throne of Asgard handed to him, but also-"

She cut him off, face tight with rage. "I see. This isn't about me, or...or us at all! Whatever your issues are with Thor, with the throne, with this...this jealousy; kindly remove me from it"

She slipped past him, heading straight to the window, desperately trying to hold back the hot tears that were collecting in her eyes. He didn't follow her, he didn't have a chance- she was out of the window and dropping down to her own chambers before he could move.

Odin's breath...what had he done?