Chapter 7

Loki watched her, studied her when she was at her most vulnerable, when she thought herself to be completely alone.

Through the veils, he could make out her figure sitting on the bed. Her back to him, her head hung as she looked down at herself. He had expected her to engage in some act of self-pleasure, but she just sat there, her elbows moving as she caressed the front of her stomach in circling motions.

He let himself lean against the wall, and the metal produced a scratching sound which caught Darcy's attention. She halted abruptly, and looked over her shoulder, her blue eyes widening in terror for a second, before she let herself deflate with a sigh.

"Loki, if you're there, I swear to god…"

She knew him too well.

The fabric of her short gown was as sheer as those damned veils that she parted to step outside the bed. Loki had to close his eyes for some moments, a little offended by the obscene, obscene spectacle of her bareness. She walked around in tight-fitting, thin garments when she should have dressed in gold, silk and gems.

She searched in the darkness, seeing just that. He inhaled, and held his breath when she approached the corner in which he hid. The bridge of her nose wrinkled, as if she was trying to catch his scent.

Oh, she knew him too well.

She returned to bed, and gathered her long hair to sprawl it across the pillow as she lay down. Loki left the shadows, and walked. He watched her slowly sink into a deep sleep. It merited long hours to refresh the memories of her forms and contours, so exposed under the candlelight.

He watched her small feet, rubbing slowly against each other as she dreamt. The hem of her short gown was crumpled around the wide hips, and small fingers curled under it to pull it higher, let out body heat product of the stuffiness in the room. The skin of her inner tights and chest was flushed, and it glistened with a film of perspiration that was damaging to the already wanting thickness of her clothes. Without awakening, she brushed the back of her hand across her neck, uncomfortable with the sweat that pooled in the hollow of her throat.

As soon as he sat on the edge of the bed, she awoke with a cry, pulling at the sheets to cover herself. Loki's weight on the bedding prevented her from doing anything of the sort. He appreciated the modesty, but he didn't wish his contemplation to be cut short.

"Get out!" she screamed, bringing all of her hair forwards to cover her breasts.

"Are you ill?" he asked so low that she let her guard down and could only look as his hand raised to curl against her neck.

His cool touch disabled the anger; it spread in branches of ice that twisted inside her body. She closed her eyes, and licked her pouty lips, but quickly regained her poise.

"No!" she denied, but her skin was cherry-tinted, and her lips were so red and swollen, and sweat ran down the sides of her face in drops that drew moist paths down her jaw and neck, just to disappear in her cleavage.

"Is it better?" he asked, staring at the soft planes of her cheekbones. He strained his torso to kiss her nose, and she scrunched up her face, but didn't flinch.

"Get the fuck out," she muttered, stressing every word.

"Oh, I don't think so," he refused, grin on his face. "What would they say if you forfeited my bed the day after I returned?"

"Like I give a shit about that." Her own fingers curled around his wrist, nails clawing into the leather, and she removed his hand from her. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Ever?" he asked, his brow knitting in mock desolation.

Her nostrils flared, and as her temper rose, so did his desire to tease her.

"Not even with just my tongue?" he asked, binding her knees together with his hands to drag her closer. "What if this is a dream? You sleep still, and once you wake up, it will be as if never happened," he whispered against her lips, and she tried to avoid the kiss by pressing her chin against her chest, but he gave chase just to have his mouth hover so, so close to hers, not quite touching. "That's what you fear, the pleasure you extract from lying with a monster. There is no one here to judge you, mortal. No judgment shall pass from my lips. No words, if you wish."

He traced a path of light kisses from her cheek, down to her jaw and neck just to land above her breasts, and stopped there, waiting for her answer. He would either have to accept the refusal, leave the room in complete calmness, dealing with the anger where she could not see him, or he would nod at her affirmation, descending his mouth upon her sex as she leaned back.

He would follow her every order in the intimacy, when they were alone and she allowed him only sounds so he could navigate through her body, as rewarding moans or frustrated grunts; he would seek for both, rowing with and against the tide.

He did not expect, though, her apathy.

"Just get out," she said, weary, closing her eyes. She flopped on the bed, her feet still resting on his lap. "And take your fucking horns," she added, showing more energy.

Darcy lay down on her side, her back to him, and closed her eyes, listening to what might be him acting out by slamming the door, but he didn't leave.

She shrieked when his long fingers gripped both her wrists, and his other hand pressed against her lower back, pushing her to the bed, fingers slithering between her thighs, searching for what she had denied him.

Loki was a god, but she never feared his strength, never feared him when he showed himself in full armor, his features relaxed in a calm expression, never feared the power hidden under the appearance of complete recollection. That was because she never had to fear his impulses, his acting from blind lust and anger.

The bones of her wrists dug painfully against each other as he kept them clasped with one hand. She lifted her butt, trying to escape his hand roaming up her inner thighs. It was impossible to fight. She was utterly powerless against him.

She screamed his name against the mattress, her voice a muffled wailing, and he stopped before the cry had died out, and let her go.

Darcy slowly reached for the sheets to cover herself up to her chin, her hands and knees trembling with the shock. She dared one glance, and looked up from her lashes to see him standing by the table, the helmet between his raised hands. He inspected the darkened layer of gold inside, damaged after being in contact with the poison.

He was working on something… an apology? He regretted his previous behavior, but putting it into words was almost impossible. His vocabulary lacked the words to form an honest apology. He opted for a gentle caress instead, but when he approached her, Darcy flinched, gripping the sheets with trembling hands.

Darcy jumped when Loki threw the helmet on the ground, smashing the stone floor. He was down on knee the next second, his head hanging low, one hand on his thigh and the other landing gently on the instep of her foot. And he waited patiently until she had calmed down and was able to muster a reply.

She slapped him, hurting herself instead. She took her wrist, grunting in pain. It had been like hitting cold, hard rock, and her palm throbbed with a cramp that felt like a hundred small needles sticking into her skin.

"Get out! Get out!" she repeated, kicking with her feet when the hand on her foot slid up to her knee.

Darcy jumped the distance from the bed to the door, her knees bending when she landed hard on her feet. She was running down the hall the next second, the daylight turning her gown see-through, just a touch of white over her pale skin. Her hair lifted behind her in a cape of rich chocolate as she stormed off.

Everyone had gone to save the son of Asgard. The palace was virtually empty. No one was there to hear her cry out when Loki encircled her knees with one arm and her waist with the other, carrying her where nobody would dare look at her, where nobody was able to look at her.

"You're taking me back," Darcy said. "Right now." She pointed to the floor with her index finger, but the message was lost in the way her breasts moved when she gestured.

There was no reaction on the maid's face when she entered. She was used already to the sight of them being naked. Seeing the prince in full attire arguing with the girl was one of the least scandalous things she had witnessed them do, even if the girl was clad in what seemed a very fancy fishing net.

"We are joining my mother for breakfast," he said.

"We?" Darcy asked, raising her eyebrows. "Can't I just stand by the edge of the Rainbow Bridge instead?"

She flopped on the bed, boneless, and refused to cooperate when Loki took her wrist, wanting to make her sit up. Whenever he tried to pull her into a sitting position, she would soon slump back on the mattress. He asked the maid's help, but with little results.

Darcy laughed as he took her shoulders, keeping her torso in a straight line, while the maid struggled to take off her clothes.

"I'll have to cancel, babe," she said as they worked to get her ready. "I mean, it sounds great and all, sitting next to the woman whose entire family is in danger because of me, but I'm not really hungry."

Loki nodded to the maid, and she stuttered, flustered to be addressed by the prince. "The little lady seems to have trouble keeping her food down, m'lord," she answered.

"No big deal," Darcy said, batting her hand, and rolling her eyes. "It's just this common stomach flu. I'll get better in a few months."

"Are they common happening?" Loki asked, reaching for the wet cloth that floated in the basin full of cold water.

"Oh, yup. I promise. Though, it was a real surprise," she said, looking at the ceiling. "Pretty sure I caught it from you." She pressed her lips in a tight smile.

"Nonsense," Loki answered. He brushed the wet cloth around her neck, washing off the sweat. "We gods are impervious to illnesses."

"Trust me, this one's all on you. And by the way, you see something you like?" Darcy asked teasingly when he brushed the cloth down her arms and between her fingers. "Hmm, they're a bit tender," she complained with a pout when he ever so gently caressed down one breast with the cloth. "Maybe you should use your tongue, God of Lies."

The maid snorted, choking on a laugh, but quickly went to finish braiding Darcy's hair.

Loki looked into Darcy's eyes, an expression of weary annoyance on his face, as if tired with the antics of a small child.

"Now what? You are carrying me into the dining hall?" she asked once they were done dressing her.

Loki shooed the maid away with one curt nod. "You should act more accordingly," he said.

"Why? Everyone thinks I'm banging your brother anyways, so I say I'm acting very accordingly."

He words had made Loki stop on the spot. Darcy just shrugged and leaned back, propping herself up on both elbows, stretching her legs; if not for her hard expression, he would have thought she was just joking, but she was mad, out to bait him into another argument.

"You know, Thor just have that look," Darcy said, the corners of her mouth twisting upwards in a mischievous smile. "You know what I'm talking about, right? Like when you see a guy and say to yourself, 'man, I'm really gonna a wheelchair after that.'"

Darcy knew the kind of power she had over him, and knew how hard to poke the fine line of his patience. "Careful," she said when he started to approach her with long strides. "I'm not your brother. I'm not so willing to forgive you. You haven't apologized for what you did back in my room. And, by the way," she said, brushing her hip slightly against his solid form as she walked past, "you can say no all you want, but if your dad manages to rescue Thor, which I'm starting to believe, him taking a whole army and that, we might have to pack our bags and go back to Earth, mister, because I'm not about to move to another alien world."

Once they entered the dining hall, Frigga was already sitting at the table, a man leaning over her, whispering things into her ear. She waved him away when Darcy entered, followed closely by her son. They were back to being inseparable, and this unsettled the queen with a mix of dread and jealousy, the possibility of this affair becoming more than a fling was now real. Loki was the girl's shadow, and the former, in return, would act arrogant in his company, showing entitlement now that she had his protection. They were more similar than they cared to admit, always ready to avenge their prides once they got the chance. But the girl just was being foolish, while her son was driven by darker motives.

"Darcy, you look splendid," the queen said. "The illness is gone, I daresay."

"No, I'm still feeling a little sick. It just got worse this morning, I can't wonder why," the girl answered, and gave her son a sly look at which he reacted by glaring back at her.

"You look tired, Loki. You did not get enough rest."

"Yes, it must be hard to sleep on a bed of lies," Darcy whispered so the queen wouldn't hear.

Loki halted, the brim on the cup resting on his lips. He looked straight ahead, not moving, resembling a very indifferent statue. "What news?" he asked, placing the cup back on the table.

"It is yet too soon," Frigga answered. "But we should not despair. We shall wait a week, Loki. They will surely come back... with Thor, of course."

At the mention of his brother's name, Darcy clearly saw Loki roll his eyes, something that the queen did not catch.

"No, no meat, please," Darcy said to the servant when he went to cut her a piece.

Loki cocked his head. "Are you alright?" he asked in a neutral tone.

"Does the meat displease you?" the queen asked. "It is a pity. You enjoyed it not long ago, I remember."

"Yeah, thank you," Darcy muttered, averting her eyes from the offensive food. She put a hand over her mouth, and swallowed, feeling her stomach contract in that unpleasant manner. "I think I've had too much."

"Indeed," said the queen, her gaze falling to the girl's belly.

Darcy felt a chill run through her, turning the blood in her veins into ice. "Excuse me," she muttered, quickly exiting the room.

Loki's fingers barely grazed her shoulder when she turned around, shouting, "I'm fine!" She added then in a softer voice, "I'm fine, Loki. I just… I don't know how you can sit there and lie to your own mother, pretend like you care about Thor when you just-" her voice trailed off when she saw a guard appear from the distance. She remained silent, looking up at Loki, until they were alone again. "You act like you genuinely don't give a damn, which I'm starting to believe."

"Yes," Loki said. Her actions not escaping him; she was willing to protect his secret. "I only set the trap, but it was you who lured them to it. Fair price to pay for your freedom."

"No. You're not putting the blame on me," she spat.

From the corner of her eyes, Darcy saw the doors to the dining hall starting to open. She hurried back to Loki's room, knowing he was right behind her.

Darcy could not believe they were capable of having a civilized conversation without it turning into an argument at some point. And, while they were alone, they were more prone to engage in destructive behavior, not having to keep up the appearances.

She was soon pulled into his arms, her back colliding against his chest. He didn't let go, no matter how hard she nudged his ribs with her elbow.

"Look," he said, taking her chin and, raising a golden plate in front of her, he made her gaze at her own reflection.

The polished and even surface gave off an imperfect picture of them, like a golden mirage in the desert horizon. Her whiteness wrapped in his darkness. It wasn't what she could see, but what she couldn't see anymore, which was her face, no flashes of death crossing her mind.

"How did you know?" Darcy asked. "You weren't there when I saw… those things."

The hand on her chin went to tuck her hair behind her ear, the fingers brushing down a lock until they descended and curled around her waist.

"A deal between rulers," he whispered against her temple. He let the plate slid off his fingers. "She was more than willing to partake in my little spectacle once I have promised her Thor's soul. And now that I have paid off my debt, you are free. The immortal soul of the mighty Thor in exchange for you." He laughed, tousling her hair with the gust of air. "A humiliation that he won't be able to surpass."

"You make me sick," Darcy said, putting both hand on his chest to push herself out of his grasp.

"Mind your tone, mortal," he warned her, his own voice lowering to a grunt. "From this moment onwards, we share a secret that could destroy us both if revealed, and I wish to remind you that you are not one made to bear tortures, not the kind they use to punish traitors. You cried at the sight of Hela's horrors. Once the crop descends on your flesh, you won't even remember how to shout for mercy."

"I almost forgot," she breathed out. "You are the bad guy."

"And you are what I demand you to be. For the moment, I request your silence."

"Honestly, though, are you capable of caring at all? Your own brother, Loki... How could you?"

"He is not-" he stopped mid-sentence. His fingers were just inches from her jaw, repressing the urge to take her, shake her. "He is not my brother."

"You grew together," she said, bringing the echo of old accusations.

"Precisely!" he agreed. "I was just there to galvanize his greatness with my existence, to make his accomplishments shine brighter against the stain of my faults. I was taken with the sole purpose to be outshone. We were never raised as brothers."

"Taken?" Darcy asked, walking backwards until her lower back made contact with his bed.

He paused for a moment, looking down, raising one hand to look at it. His finger curled inwards, before he let the hand fall by his side. Finally, he spoke with a ring that neared a trembling confession, "I am the crippled son of a monster."

"What do you mean?" she asked, now sitting on the bed to look up at him. He always referred to himself as a monster, but she was sure he meant it figuratively.

"I was abandoned by my real father." He made another pause, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "A giant, one of Asgard's oldest enemies. I was taken as a token, as proof of Odin's victory. I walk amongst them, as you, despised and sneered at."

Darcy smiled, shaking her head. Loki was beautiful. He was perfect, and anyone who thought otherwise was in denial. He was elegance and grace when Thor was brute force and loudness. Indeed, the younger brother was the quiet reservoir of a cunning mind, form imitating spirit. He was a dull palette of pallor and black against the golden gods. But surely they shouldn't abhor his differences, but crave them. She wanted his differences; she accepted them with actions that she blushed to remember.

And he sat on the bed, his tall form not losing the disadvantage for he always stood taller than her. His eyes searched for something in hers, eyes that would shine with a glimmer of uncertainty, like those of a lost child. She was moved by it, and put a hand on the side of his head, her thumb brushing a fine eyebrow.

"Does this judgment ail you? Does it hurt you?" he asked, slamming his fist against his chest. "Imagine having to live with it for centuries, always hated, always despised. Do you see now? Do you see why I have earned the right to be their lord, to have them bow their heads to me? Odin wishes to crush me under the hatred until he is capable of taming me, but he does not see yet. I am not Thor. I will reign over Asgard. I will sit on his throne, and I will look down on those who looked at me with derision. They will respect and fear me."

"No, no," Darcy whispered, crawling on her knees until their faces were inches apart. She brushed her hand down his jet-black hair, accepting the desire to protect him, a god that had lived for centuries. "Then what? You are wasting your time here. If Thor and Odin return, they will hate you all the more for it. Let's just leave," she pleaded with a whine.

Loki closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest against hers. Her words almost made it sound possible.

"This is not the answer," she continued. "Let's live anywhere, let's forget about them, Loki. Thor can keep his stupid throne. Take me anywhere, away from here. I will go anywhere with you. I love you."

Loki's eyes flew open at the confession. He saw her blue eyes widening, her hand clasping on her mouth. It had escaped her.

For the longest moment, they remained like that, staring into each other's eyes, without moving, without breathing.

Darcy took a sharp intake of breath, and jumped out of the bed. She didn't know whether it had been a good or a bad sign that he didn't try to stop her. Oh, she was the biggest fool. She was a stupid, stupid, stupid. She couldn't take those words back. She covered her face with both her hands in shame, replaying the embarrassing moment again and again in her mind. How could she say something so stupid?

"This is the most pleasant time for a walk."

Darcy looked up to see the queen in front of her. Somehow, she had the impression the queen could read the reason behind her mortified expression.

"Shall we sit? I have been meaning to have a word with you for some time now."

Darcy obeyed, if only to avoid confirming the queen's suspicions by running away while flailing her arms, which she felt very compelled to do. They both sat on a bench close to the railings. The queen looked down into the great distance, while Darcy avoided it altogether. She put back her shoulders though, trying to imitate the queen's elegant posture.

"Loki has always been… assertive," the queen said, putting both hands on her lap gently. She nodded, linking her fingers. "He has never been like Thor. Thor has never doubted his place. Yes, he has had to face challenges that have made him afraid, no matter how hard he wishes to conceal this. But his own duties, he has never forgotten or cast them aside. But he does not possess Loki's cunning. Thor tires and lashes out when faced with something he cannot overcome. He becomes reckless and impulsive. He refuses to see reason when he fails."

She sounded nostalgic, smiling despite the sad light in her eyes. It reminded Darcy of Loki.

"They are both so similar," she continued. "They both will go to great lengths to get what they want. And while Thor fights for it using his strength, Loki sits quietly to plan. I am more afraid of Loki's meekness than of Thor's chaos." She looked into Darcy's eyes then. "Loki will be crowned king a second time. A longer time, I believe. He is not forgiving, Darcy. He will unfold his wrath on those that have wronged him and, now that he shall have the power, he will do as he pleases. No, do not fear, child," she cooed, brushing the back of her hand across Darcy's cheek. "He would never harm you, no. He will resent you, yes, but he won't lift a finger to cause you any more pain. He has now encountered the only thing he cannot get, no matter how hard he tries. He knows he is only pushing you away with his trickery."

"Love and family have never been enough for him. It has always fallen short when in presence of the admiration given to Thor. You are the only one he can claim as his own, everyone and everything else he has had to share or renounce. You are the only one who overlooks Thor's radiance and admires Loki alone." The soft words were over, and the queen spoke then with a harsh tone, spewing plain truth. "Be his queen, be whatever he wishes you to be. You will stay by his side, and speak up for those who he plans on destroying. You will curb his thirst for revenge and soothe his anger." She stood to leave, quickly taking one final glance at Darcy's belly. "I would not wish to see my grandchildren hurt."

"What?" Darcy said, awakening from her daze.

"They will be beautiful," the queen answered.

OMG so I actually was going to post this 2 days ago but my best friend's birthday was this last Sunday so I ended up staying over for like 2 days, so what's up?

Somehow I wanted to make this happier, but lol idk what happened, honestly. I just had to get over the confessions and all that.

Hope you keep reading this, you guys. It's been quiet over this end ): Please throw some shade or flame if you wish.