Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Do you think I can wear my slasher tee with the rips on the chest to an Asgardian wedding?”

“No.”

“What about that cute crop top that says ‘I’m with stupid’ with an arrow pointing down?”

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon Jane, how am I supposed to flirt with hot space boys if they don’t know I’m available?”

“We’re going as representatives of Earth. Think diplomacy, not fun. Thor will get us wedding-appropriate clothing when we arrive.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m bringing my converse. The possibility of running from monsters while we're shitfaced on space wine is low, but never zero.”

Darcy finishes packing her backpack, making sure her taser is safely stowed in the front pocket, and joins Jane in the apartment living room. They climb the stairs to the roof and Darcy uses the key she swiped from the front desk to open the door. On the roof, cold winds blow around them and clouds gather overhead.

“We’re gonna come back from this, right? We’re not going to get stuck in an asteroid belt and boil from the inside like I saw on that documentary one time? Because that would not be cute,” Darcy hopes the snark in her tone masks her apprehension.

“It feels disorienting, but Hiemdal won’t let us fall,” reassures Jane.

Darcy is halfway through wondering if she would rather spend the week reading binary from Jane’s ancient barometric scanner and recieving yet another faceless dick pic in her DMs when the world fills with light and colour.

One motion-sick minute later, Darcy sprawls face first across a very slippery floor in front of a very large man. Jane helps her to her feet and Darcy peers up at the big guy in the gold helmet.

“You know you guys should really put an escalator in there, walk or stand you know? Cuz goddamn, I can do eight shots of sambuca but that thing’s like a body blender.”

“I will keep that in mind, mortal,” the man says sombrely. Darcy gives him a thumbs up and looks around the gold dome.

“Is this the kibosh?”

“The bifrost,” Jane corrects with an embarrassed laugh. Darcy shrugs again. Rainbow bridge makes more sense from the children’s book Dr. Selvig had. They should stick with rainbow bridge.

There’s a sound like an incoming jet and a crackle of electricity. Darcy steps away from Jane, not wanting to get sideswiped. It happened once and her scarf was stuck in the little metal plates on his bicep armor for five minutes while Jane went red in the face tried to detach them. Darcy's scarf got ripped in the end. She liked that scarf. Suddenly, with a rush of cold wind and a streak of black metal, there’s Thor, standing heroically while Jane's hand leaps to her chest. Darcy gives the bicep metal bits a glare. She gives Meowmeow a friendly wave for good measure. Thor's hair has grown a bit and he's cultivated the beginnings of a beard. It's not a bad look.

Thor nods once to Darcy, “Ms. Assistant.”

“Mr. Thunder.”

He smiles then turns to Jane. She says something quiet to him, eyes alight with happiness. He says something back, tenderly cupping her face in his hands. Aaannd they’re kissing.

Darcy whistles under her breath and turns away. The big guy in the gold is staring into space, literally. Not much for chit chat then. Darcy wanders over to the entrance to the city. Would an instagram story upload from here?

Asgard is incredible. There is more gold than a catholic church on the organ-shaped palace and flying boaty thingys and the rainbow bridge preceding it all. The rainbow bridge seems to glow with shifting light like a prism. The golden posts every twenty feet or so create an illusion of a fence to the waterway below. Darcy squints against the glare from the palace. Are those…?

She stops in her tracks and puts her phone down. Heads. Those are heads. Atop every golden post is a severed head. There are men and women, faces frozen in eternal screams. There are other things too, blue and fishlike and spiked and fur-coated. Heads of creatures Darcy doesn’t have the name for stretching into the distance.

“Oh my god…” Jane says coming up beside Darcy.

Thor sighs, “It’s Loki. He was supposed to have chosen a spouse by now, but he has invoked the ancient right of brides.”

“Brides?” Darcy asks, unnerved by how casually Thor speaks about it.

“Yes, it was a tradition of many eons ago to prevent royal women from entering to unfit matches for the good of Asgard. Loki was supposed to be married as punishment for impersonating the king. He’ll do anything to get out of a punishment, but I admit this is a bit extreme,” says Thor jovially.

“I’ll say,” mutters Darcy.

“No matter!” exclaims Thor, “He’s wearing thin and we’ll have feasting and festivities soon. Now hold on Jane Foster.”

Jane wraps a hand around Thor’s arm and he grabs her waist. He looks over at Darcy with a warm smile.

“We’ll see to you shortly, Ms. Assistant.”

Thor whips his hammer around and takes off into the sky.

“Are you kidding me?!” Darcy yells after them, but they’re already gone, “What does ‘see to you’ even mean?”

Goldilocks over there doesn’t reply. Fine, Darcy thinks, leave the human to walk on the creepy dead people bridge alone. Just fine. She hoists her backpack straps up on her shoulders and starts walking.

Maybe she should have stayed back on Earth. Something about the hundreds of heads mounted on spikes suggests that maybe proofreading Jane’s fluid thermodynamics paper for the thousandth time might have been the play. At least the severed heads don’t smell. They probably should have had a smell. Darcy decides she might be going into shock. She just keeps walking.

After what she assumes is twenty minutes of trying not to look the heads in the eye sockets, one of the floating boat thingies pulls up next to her. There's a dude in armor and a cape with wings on the side of his helmet driving the boat. A warrior lady with excellent hair and an even more excellent mini cape looks down at Darcy appraisingly.

“Darcy Lewis, Lady Sif at your service to escort you to the palace,” the warrior lady says.

Darcy throws up her hands, “Frickin’ finally! The customer service in this place is seriously lacking. Who even manages you guys?”

“Odin the wise, razer of enemies, all knowing, allfather, king of the-”

“Nevermind, gimme a hand.”

The warrior lady grabs her forearm and Darcy hops onto the floating boat. They take off and Darcy assumes her ‘subway stance’ to stop from falling over. The city of Asgard is as beautiful up close as far away, but in a different way. It reminds Darcy of the villages in the south of Spain when she went on exchange. There’s stone streets and terracotta roofs and hanging flowering plants from balconies. The people wear light dresses or leather armor or linen trousers. It seems like an idyllic place. It doesn’t seem like a place where heads get chopped off. But then again, Darcy’s taken enough early modern history courses to know that head-chopping happens in the even loveliest of places.

They come around a corner to an open square filled with people. The side of the palace rises high into the sky at the edge of the square with a high walkway and a lower walkway. At one end of the low walkway there’s a wide door to the palace lined with guards and at the other there’s a heavily armoured warrior with a massive ax. An executioner. Directly below the executioner stands a golden gong with a mallet. The people in the square give the gong a wide berth.

“Wait,” says Darcy, “Stop here. I want to see what's going on.”

Lady Sif and the guard steering the boat both give her a funny look, “It’s another of Loki Odinson’s suitor's execution, nothing much to see. The palace will have a more joyful bounty for you.”

Darcy wonders what Thor would say to make them stop. Probably something Lord of the Rings-y. Probably something like, “I order you to stop as an esteemed representative of Midgard.”

Lady Sif sighs and holds up her hand. The boat stops, hovering over the back of the square. Huh, she’ll keep that phrase in her back pocket for later. Could come in handy next time she needs to borrow something permanently. The people on the ground abruptly go silent as the door swings open.

Darcy cranes her neck to get a look at the next one on the chopping block. The person that comes out isn’t scaly or snouty or particularly monstrous. It’s a young man in a regal looking uniform of soft browns and blues. He walks with his head held high, deep brown hair falling in shining curls over his tan forehead. He’s beautiful.

“What’s wrong with him?” Darcy quietly asks Lady Sif, “He’s hot.”

Lady Sif shakes her head sadly, “He’s one of the princes of Niflheim, accomplished in battle and adored by many. It was a mistake to come here to ring the suitor’s plate. But his people are starving and a match with Asgard would bring them prosperity.”

“Y’all can’t just help them out?”

“Is charity for a population common in your world?” Lady Sif asks with a raised eyebrow.

Darcy frowns, “Yes, but it’s called debt and usually it makes things worse in the long run. So I guess actually no. God, this kind of sucks, doesn’t it?”

Lady Sif nods sagely, “Loki was clever to invoke the right of brides. But he is abusing it now. Hundreds of good and noble beings have died for a piece of Asgard and hundreds more will follow.”

Like this poor sap here. It seems like he didn’t have much of a choice and now he’s going to die for it. Someone in the square cries out and Darcy spots an older woman bearing the same colours as the prince but in simpler clothes. Maybe his mother or a relative. The cry echoes across the square and soon the air is filled with pleas for his life to be spared. Darcy hates the sound of it, it scrapes along her ears like a dissonant chord.

“What’s the trial?” she asks over the noise.

“I’ve heard it is a riddle, but I’m unsure which riddle, Loki has a silver tongue and is not easily outwitted.”

“He sounds like an asshole. Wait, I’ve totally met him. He IS an asshole.”

Lady Sif doesn’t smile. Her eyes are glassy, fixed on the prince approaching the executioner with his head held high.

“Do you know him?” Darcy asks more softly.

“Yes,” replies Lady Sif, “He was a friend to me, he aided Thor and the Warriors Three on many occasions on Niflheim. He deserves a more glorious end than this.”

Darcy has an idea. She doesn’t like when she has ideas because it usually means she’s going to do something kind of stupid. Her Words With Friends high score has been training for this moment. Silvertongue has nothing on Words With Friends.

“You’re sworn to protect me right, as an esteemed representative of Midgard, right?” Lady Sif nods, “And as a common person of Midgard who doesn’t know anything of Asgardian traditions or has any interest in marrying a delusional war criminal, you could override the rights of brides and save me from execution?”

Lady Sif looks confused, “I suppose… But it would be difficult and unusual.”

Darcy shrugs, “You seem like you can handle difficult and unusual. Bring us down by the gong. And maybe grab some of that rope. This feels like a rope situation.”

“Why?” Lady Sif asks suspiciously.

Darcy feels a scheming smile spread over her lips, “We’re going to save that prince.”

Chapter Text

In the end, Darcy doesn’t slide down the rope like one of Charlie’s Angels. The guard with Sif pulls the boat down low in front of the gong and Darcy hops out, glad she didn’t go with her club heels for a wedding look. Those were nice heels though. Her ankle would have just snapped like a twig, but her legs would look great doing it.

The crowd whispers and the prince stops walking to peer down at her, a concerned look overcoming his handsome features.

Darcy looks up at him and waves reassuringly, “Don’t worry! I’m a professional.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a silhouette on the higher walkway. It’s gone in an instant. Not her biggest problem. Her biggest problem is likely that Jane’s gonna kill her if she survives whatever is about to happen.

But.

This poor guy doesn’t deserve to be executed for trying to save his people either. Better some loudmouth from Earth takes a run through the ringer than a guy that fine. It’s a matter of galactic justice at this point.

So.

Distraction time. Darcy picks up the mallet for the gong with both hands because it’s heavy as hell. Darcy steels her mind against the warnings shouted from the crowd. Darcy swings the mallet as hard as she can into the metal plate.

The low sound reverberates off the stone buildings of the square and runs up the side of the golden palace wall. Darcy hits the gong again, and one more time after that because it feels like she should.

While the eyes of the palace guards are on Darcy, Sif tosses the rope down to the prince. He grabs hold and the boat thing takes off. The square breaks into whispers that turn into cheers. Darcy smiles, yeah, cheer it up bitches. The feeling of doing a good thing swells warm in her chest.

The silhouette appears on the high walkway again. Darcy looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun, and finds Loki, prince of Asgard looking down at her.

He’s the opposite of the prince of Niflheim. He’s glossy and sharp. He’s lithe in dark clothing. His black hair falls starkly straight against his pale cheek. He looks as unhappy to be there as anyone else.

Darcy can’t seem to catch her breath.

Loki looks up, away from Darcy. He narrows his eyes and something appears in his hand, flashing golden in the sun. A knife.

“WAIT!” Darcy screams.

Loki scoffs with half his body. Darcy can’t tell if it’s at her or the flying boat tailing it away from the palace.

Loki lifts his hand and throws the blade.

Darcy shuts her eyes and prays to a different kind of god.

The horrified shrieks of the woman in the crowd from earlier confirm it.

Loki got his pound of flesh.

Darcy feels a bit nauseous. Maybe if she keeps herself completely still no one will see her and she can sneak out of the murder-square. She keeps her eyes shut for good measure. Goddamn this mallet is heavy. A large hand lands on her shoulder a second later. Her eyes snap open. It’s the executioner in black armor. He looks kinda friendly up close, like a young Santa.

“Allow me to escort you to the throne room, suitor.”

“Suitor? Can I opt out?” Darcy asks innocently, putting on a southern accent for some reason, “I’m not from around here. I just saw a pretty gold gong so I hit it to hear the pretty sound. No harm done, right?”

The executioner shakes his head, “Take it up with Odinson.”

“Damn.”

The executioner directs her up a set of stairs at the end of the walkway. The magnitude of her stupidity hits her then. What was she going to do next? Hoof it after the flying boat calling 'wait for me'? That swell of pride turns to a knot of dread in Darcy's chest. She is, as some would say, fucked. Someone in the crowd yells something super helpful like ‘I warned you’ and someone else offers the encouragement ‘may the king have mercy on your soul’. Great.

The grandeur of the palace falls a bit dull on Darcy’s eyes. She became seriously desensitized to surprising sights around the fiftieth severed head. Still, she notices the basics. Very high ceilings. Very shiny guards. A very long distance to get to wherever the hell they’re going. If she hadn’t spent the last summer chasing Jane around in the desert, her feet would’ve hurt something terrible by now. Between the dead people bridge and the palace, she hazards she's walked five miles. Sure feels like it at least.

They come around a corner to the grandest hall yet. There’s a beautiful mural on the ceiling of various kings doing kingly shit. Darcy recognizes Meowmeow first, and Thor holding it second. Loki is in the mural as well, painted a fair bit smaller than Thor even though he seemed only an inch or two shorter than Thor in real life. His face is composed in a noble look of kindness, something that looks instinctively wrong. Darcy may not know him all that well, but she’s sure his face has never had that ‘smile for the common good’ expression on it. At least not sincerely.

They approach the end of the hall where a great curving throne of golden antlers holds an old guy with an eyepatch. This must be the head honcho. At the bottom of the dais, flanked by a whole platoon of guards stands Loki. Darcy wonders if the guards are to keep him from killing her or to keep him from escaping. Possibly a bit of both.

Compared to the mural on the ceiling, Loki isn't actually that small in person. He must be taller than her by a foot. He catches her looking at him and gives her a scathing look. Darcy looks back at him innocently, twiddling her thumbs and all. She hopes the insolence hides her fear. Her pulse pounds in her throat and her palms feel clammy. It might have been nice not to be wearing the checkered halter romper she bought on impulse at the mall last week. It’s super cute and all, but it may detract from any serious diplomatic moves she might try to make to get herself out of this mess.

“Darcy!”

Jane comes running from behind the group of guards with Thor following close behind. Darcy accepts the hug, grateful that the executioner dude finally takes his hand off her shoulder.

“Hey,” Darcy says weakly.

Jane pulls back and searches Darcy’s eyes, “What happened? Thor sent Lady Sif to pick you up and then you guys never showed up!”

“Yeah, well, I did a bit of social justice-ing on my way. I might have accidentally hit the marriage gong.”

“You- what?”

There’s a deep throat clearing from the throne and Jane steps aside. Darcy feels a bit better standing next to Thor and Jane. Thor bows and Jane follows suit. Darcy curtsies because she thinks it’s funnier in her wide-legged pants.

“What is the meaning of this, Thor?” booms Odin.

Loki smirks at his brother and Darcy physically feels Thor tense beside her. The smirk isn’t hot. It isn’t. It’s just… kinda sexy. Oh, goddamn. She is totally not crushing on the war criminal already. That would make her the delusional one in this scenario. Okay Darcy, she thinks, how many people did he kill in 2012? Three thousand, four thousand? And those are just the ones she knows about. All that damage just for him to end up in the same place. Needless losses, horrible deaths.

The smirk is still hot. And she likes his green and black leather outfit too.

Darcy gives up all hope for herself.

Thor interrupts her internal tirade, “This Midgardian is my guest. She and my consort Jane Foster have travelled here as representatives of Earth to witness Loki’s impending wedding. Why has she been brought before you?”

“It just so happens,” Loki says. His voice is sure and slow, like he knows everyone will wait for him to finish his thought. What an asshat. A good looking asshat. With sparkling mischief in his eyes just like Darcy sees in the mirror. Yikes. Not good, she thinks, keep talking magic man, “that girl sounded Ymir's plate in a misguided attempt to free the Niflheim prince. Not to fret father, I finished him myself.”

Odin does not look like he was fretting before. Now, a line forms between his brow as he considers Darcy. She valiantly represses the urge to flip him off to release the tension in the air. That would be only kind of funny and almost definitely self destructive. She’s pretty sure Loki has got enough destruction handled for everyone on his own.

“That is a sacred plate from the armor of Ymir. It is only revealed when the right of brides has been called, it has not seen the skies of Asgard for a millennia. This is deeper than law, mortal, it is an ancient right which built the stones beneath you. You bound yourself to the mercy of the bride the moment you rang the hallowed gilt.”

Darcy smiles, relieved and turns to Loki, “Sweet, so can you just call this even and we can pretend this never happened? You know, since you killed that dude anyway and I’m your brother’s girlfriend’s plus one? Super excited for your wedding when you pick someone, though. Seems like a blast.”

Loki lifts his chin so he can look down his nose a little more at her. An icky feeling runs down Darcy’s spine.

“No. You’ve wounded my honour by trying to make off with my failed suitor. You will solve the trial or you will die.”

Darcy’s mouth pops open. “What the hell man?!”

“Brother!” Thor protests, “She knows not what she’s done. You do not want to risk a war with Earth for this offense.”

Loki scoffs, “Thank you for your advice brother, but I think I do. I’d risk another war with Jotenhiem itself if it meant I didn’t have to get married to some fool in a twisted attempt to keep me tethered. I won’t have it.”

“You WILL!” Odin shouts and it echoes on the inside of Darcy’s head. She and Jane both wince. Thor only goes still and stops fiddling with the handle of Meowmeow. He must get yelled at a lot by old pops up there. Odin takes a moment to compose himself, “The mortal will hear the trial and you will take her answer and the answer of any following suitor,” Loki rolls his eyes, seeming younger than he did before. He must get ordered around by old pops up there a whole lot too, “Since she is of a lower realm and therefore cannot possibly understand the complexity of Asgardian culture, she will have until morning to answer. Now deliver your trial and begone before you vex me further.”

Darcy is pretty sure she’s been insulted somewhere in there, but she’s too curious about the trial to linger on it.

Loki turns back to Darcy with a tense smile and spreads his hands. Is he about to do a magic trick? Oooh, she’s so good at calling out shitty magicians. She made a college kid cry once. He shouldn’t have been wearing a cape to an orientation event anyway. Speaking of capes, will she get one like Thor and Odin’s on her wedding outfit? Is it just a royal family thing? Lady Sif was wearing a fun cropped cape. Maybe she could get an off the shoulder cape just to stand out. Or would that look bad?

Darcy clues in about halfway through Loki’s sentence, “...is three riddles. What is born each night and dies each dawn? What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire? What is ice which gives you fire and which your fire freezes still more?”

“I don’t know, a jenky radiato-”

“Darcy!” interrupts Jane with frantic eyes, “Why don’t we see your room and you can think on your answer until you need to give it in the morning.”

Thor elbows Darcy harder than she’s sure he meant to and Darcy hisses “Shit! Wha- I mean, of course. Thank you Prince McGuy for your trial. I will consider them long and hard like my… intellect.”

Loki snorts and Darcy does an extra terrible curtsy. Thor and Jane bow low. Jane takes Darcy firmly by the elbow and drags her out of the room at speed.

“Ow, ow, ow,” Darcy says in time with their steps. Thor leads them up a grand set of spiral stairs and down a hall with lower ceilings and many doors. He opens one near the end of the row and holds it open. Jane pulls Darcy in and Thor closes the door behind them.

The room is some kind of living space with low tables and breezy open doors to three balconies. The sun shines in on drapes and carpets and brightly coloured cloth on nearly every surface. There’s a kind of bed-type thing near the far wall. A silver platter sits on the table in the centre of the room laden with fruit and meat. Darcy carefully weighs her options and flops down on the bed. God, that was so much walking. No wonder all the Asgardians she’s met have incredibly muscular calves.

“Darcy, what were you thinking?!” Jane exclaims, starting to pace across the room.

Thor takes a seat by the food and sets down Meowmeow. As the hammer touches the ground, his armor folds itself away into nothing. A moment later he’s wearing a plain linen shirt and simple beige pants. He looks comfy. Darcy might ask for some clothes like that. It’s kind of warm in Asgard. She can’t remember if she packed deodorant.

“Darcy, are you even listening?”

Darcy drags her attention back to Jane, “Sor-ry. I just saw like two million dead people and my brain is doing a lot of work trying not to think about it ever again!”

Jane’s eyes soften a bit and she comes to sit on the bed beside Darcy. Darcy kicks off her shoes so she can tuck her legs under herself.

“I’m sorry Darcy,” says Jane, “we shouldn’t have left you. I was taken away with the moment and I forgot how new all of this is for you.”

“Nah, you were just thinking with your cat instead of your head.”

Jane whacks her gently on the arm, “Shut up.”

Darcy raises her hands in mock-surrender, “Let me cope with my trauma by discussing your weirdly exciting sex life. Did you know I only got matches with guys named Greg last week? I wasn’t even trying to look for Gregs. The Gregs found me.”

“Greg is a very strong name,” Thor says sagely. Jane nods along like he makes any kind of sense. Darcy is pretty sure Thor could start talking about the true value of penny stocks and Jane would hang on every word.

At least Darcy feels the horrible knot of dread in her chest start to loosen. Just a little. She’s alone not in the jeering crowd anymore. She’s got at least two people in her corner. Three if she counts Lady Sif, which she doesn't because Sif totally ditched her back there.

She breathes and tries to set her worry down. That’s the way Jane says Darcy thinks best; when she’s not worried. Ha. Easier said than done when she’s seen the chopping block for herself.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sincerely this time, “I know I fucked up. I don’t want to marry Loki, or whatever that means, and I obviously don’t want to die. Lady Sif told me that Niffyhime prince was a good guy and I didn’t think he deserved to die either. I stuck my head where it doesn’t belong again and now it might get chopped off. Will you put falsies on my severed head when it goes on the spike? It'd be a gag.”

“You will not need these false seas, Ms. Assistant,” declares Thor, “I promise to you and to Jane Foster that no harm will come to you under my care.”

Darcy doesn’t mention all kinds of harm has come to them under his care before. It doesn’t seem constructive at the moment.

“Thanks, Thunder Down Under. But what do we do now? There's like eighteen hours before I get a bad haircut.”

Thor shakes his head, “Not to worry, I will speak to my brother. You just enjoy the palace and the view. I’ll send the royal seamsters up to take your measurements.”

“Thank you,” Jane smiles gratefully and they both stand. They walk towards each other like the world’s most sickening magnets. And kiss. With tongue.

Darcy didn’t spend all that much time with Thor, but she had heard him talk about his brother. It sounded like Thor wouldn’t be able to talk Loki out of a pot of honey with the bees still in. So that was probably off the table considering she’d also gone and made Loki mad. Maybe she could escape? She nixes the idea the moment she thinks it. Where could she go that Loki wouldn’t find her, supposing he was pissed off enough to chase. Earth’s mightiest couldn’t handle him until after the death count got to the thousands. Space’s mightiest has his hands on Jane’s ass.

Darcy flops down on the bed and stares at the ceiling. She can’t help her mind from digging into the sore spots. It’s a leftover habit from her poli-sci days, you either work over the rough stuff in a plan until it’s all smooth or you go find enough money to make it disappear. She only brought $5.35 to Asgard in coins in case she wanted to barter the metal for a little trinket or two. A space anklet wasn’t going to walk her out of this one.

Lady Sif. She seems like a woman with the know-how and brains to help Darcy deal with Loki. And she has that fun little cape. Maybe she can also help Darcy sort out the cape fashion of Asgard. Darcy barely hears the door close behind Thor as she considers her impending doom.

If she’s going to die tomorrow, she might as well do it in the most ridiculous cape Asgard has ever seen.

And maybe a wig.

Chapter Text

Darcy has to admit, the Asgardian sewing people know their shit.

She checks herself out in the mirror. They’ve dressed her in a diaphanous forest green gown with cut-out sleeves that drop from her shoulders to the ground, leaving her arms bare. It’s almost like a cape. The girls are hoisted and secure in a corset-like top with a design of roping vines across the neckline. It’s modest enough that she isn’t worried about any spillage but beautiful enough to make her feel it. Beautiful.

Her brown hair is done up in little twisties that she already can’t wait to take down. The handmaidens went a step too far when they scrubbed off Darcy's eyeliner against her loud protests. They replaced it with a dewy balm on her eyelids, cheeks, and lips. It looks different. Not better or worse, but different. Glowy instead of shadowed. She also ditched her converse for the soft leather slippers the handmaidens presented. She can run from monsters shitfaced on space wine in those too.

Jane also looks beautiful, but more in a hot space lady than an ethereal wood nymph kind of way. They’ve dressed her in a crimson gown thread through with gold. The neckline plunges halfway to her bellybutton and there’s a slit up her leg clear through to her hip. Gold jewelry and rubies decorate her neck and ears and arms. Her hair is held back in complicated braids, also inlaid with gold.

Jane doesn’t fidget or shift around the fabric. She wears the adornment as easily as her lab coat.

Jane catches Darcy staring and shrugs, “It’s an inside joke in the palace. Anytime they dress me, I’m in red to commemorate the time I hosted the Aether. They still can’t believe a mortal could survive it. I’m a female astrophysicist, I can handle a bit of teasing.”

“No, I meant, you have, like, no clothes on. Not that it’s a bad thing, but you’re a button-down blouse to a date kind of lady,” Darcy gestures vaguely to her chest and leg area.

Jane laughs, “It’s the seamsters. They aim to please the royal family first and foremost. They think Thor wants to see me with more skin out to show off his consort to his court, so they dress me like this for every feast. It’s fine, really, a nice change from home. ”

“So that’s why you’re so chill about it. God, if Richard could see you now,” Darcy whistles appreciatively to hammer home her point. Heh. Hammer.

Jane waves her off, “You look really lovely, too. Do you want me to take some pictures?”

Darcy peers at herself in the mirror again. She does look pretty fly.

“Sure, my phone’s got like ten percent so nothing cool better happen for the rest of the trip,” she doesn’t make eye contact with herself in the mirror because she suddenly doesn’t want to picture her head getting chopped off in about twelve hours. Something else occurs to her while she’s staring at her bare hands. There’s no jewels. No jewels on her neck or anywhere. No pizzazz. “Why do you think they dressed me like this? It’s not very… flashy.”

Jane hums thoughtfully and comes to stand behind Darcy in the reflection. They both consider her full-skirted dress and soft makeup.

“I think,” Jane says slowly, “This might also be for a member of the royal family. You’re completely entitled to feel uncomfortable with that and change, but they're trying to help you.”

“Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense,” Darcy muses, “Wouldn’t Loki be more into a look like yours. He’s got magpie vibes, bright and shiny things you know? Is he even into girls? Or humans for that matter?”

Jane shrugs, “No idea. I think you’re right about him liking shiny things, though maybe he's tired of shiny people. According to Thor, suitors have come offering riches and wealth or wearing their best costume as what they think an Asgardian prince might like. I think that this time the seamster, maybe even Odin himself, is trying to show him something real, something that won’t vanish with bad luck. They say he has bad luck when it comes to prizes. He’s not winning a prize with the right of brides thing. When someone solves his trial, he'll be binding himself to them as an equal. Someone who will know him better than anyone else in order to pass. The seamster is probably wanting him to think of you as that person. There’s no riches or jewels to distract from it.”

“Just my sparkling personality,” Darcy shoots Jane finger guns in the reflection and Jane sighs.

“Have you given any thought to the riddles?”

Darcy has given the riddles a bit of thought. Just enough thought to realize Loki’ll likely say she’s wrong no matter what because he doesn’t want to get married in the first place. And then she’ll be headless and not know if she beat his test. After that brief and distressing interlude of thinking of her current situation, she goes right back to happier thoughts about about getting a cape. Maybe a red one to match Thor’s. That would be funny. She’d call herself Thora the Explora.

Darcy clicks her tongue, “Nah. Thinking’s for losers. Let’s go get shwasted.”

She links her arm through Jane’s and they head off to do just that.

The banquet hall is pretty extreme. There’s banners and music. There’s dancers and floating lights. There’s a huge crowd of people Darcy doesn’t recognize. She barely sees the table under the food, ale, and wine. A large man next to Thor belches loudly and everyone around him cheers. Even Odin looks pleased at his seat at the head of the table. Darcy doesn’t see Loki anywhere. It’s probably for the best. She's not feeling very positive towards him, magpie vibes or not.

“Let’s pay our respects to Odin first,” says Jane in Darcy’s ear, “Then we can find somewhere to sit.”

Gratitude fills Darcy's little ole heart as she navigates the banquet on Jane's arm. She'd probably be tossed in the dungeon for insubordination by this point if she was going it alone. Jane had Thor to help her and now Darcy has Jane. It's trickle-down court etiquette.

“Can we sit by Lady Sif?” Darcy asks, pointing to the warrior woman in question across from Thor and his band of idiots, “She seems like she could use some company.”

Jane nods with a smile and they approach the head of the table. Darcy likes parties well enough to not mind the noise but she can’t help but feel like an errant ale-mug is gonna whack her in the head.

They reach Odin’s seat and bow low. Darcy follow’s Jane’s lead, aware that there are all kinds of wrong moves she doesn’t know that she’s making. Odin’s jolliness recedes and he is once again stoic.

“You may rise.”

“Allfather, thank you for welcoming us at your table,” says Jane graciously.

Odin waves his hand in a shooing motion and Jane bows again. Darcy scrambles to follow. That’s it? He’s just shooing them away like pigeons? Jeez, the Allfather kind of sucks.

Luckily there are seats next to Sif by the time Jane and Darcy make their way down the long table. The three guys around Thor greet Jane enthusiastically and shake Darcy’s hand across the table. She likes them. They look her right in the eyes and she doesn’t see anything but kindness and a bit of tipsiness in theirs.

Thor launches into a story about the time Jane beat the dark elves. Darcy takes the time to get her answers in between bites of some kind of starchy something.

“Psst, Lady Sif,” Darcy leans over to her, “Sorry about your friend.”

Lady Sif shrugs, “It was his time after all. May we meet again in Valhalla.”

Tonight, Lady Sif has changed into a blush coloured dress under a bronze armored breastplate. No one mentions her rescue attempt or how she went against the whole right of brides thing. Lady Sif would probably shut them up with a flex of her tricep. Darcy bets Sif could fight a monster shitfaced while the rest of them were doing the running.

“Yeah, totally. Rest in peace to a real one,” Darcy takes a 0.5 second moment of silence, “So... I’ve got this riddle thing I have to solve or go hang with him in Valhalla tomorrow. Do you know the answer?”

Lady Sif shakes her head, “No one does except Loki and the Allfather. That’s why the riddle and the answer must be given in the Allfather's presence to ensure an honest trial.”

That doesn’t make Darcy feel better. The Allfather also seems like he would tell her she was wrong just because he seems to hate Jane and wants to get rid of them both. Double jeopardy.

“Do you have any helpful hints?”

Sif considers Darcy for a moment, then speaks in a careful tone, “Loki’s riddles are always a reflection of himself. Trickery is his identity, the trick of the riddle is who he is.”

“Sounds like an unreliable guy, who’d want to marry him anyway?”

At Sif’s sad expression, Darcy wishes she could take it back. It may have been a tad insensitive considering their conversation two minutes ago.

“There are many reasons suitors have come to try for his hand. But none of them have known him as I do. They guess many material things, but he’s got more to him than things. You must know, mortal, that Loki is self-centered. And you must also know that that center is soft. He is not evil to his bones and he is not good either. He is simply fallible as we all are. His selfishness drives him to failure, yet he bears his failings with more grace than anyone I know. It will be good to remember these things when you answer the riddle.”

Darcy has no idea how any of that will help her at all, “Thanks, Lady Sif. You are a real gal’s gal.”

Lady Sif spots something across the hall and points with her goblet hand.

“If you want more hints, I think you might be best to go to the source,” Lady Sif says with a conspiratorial smile.

Darcy follows her hand to see a figure leaning over a balcony ledge, separated from the party. He still doesn’t have his characteristic pointy hat on and Darcy almost doesn’t see him hidden in the shadow of the feast.

“Huh, maybe I will.”

Darcy rises, puts a reassuring hand on Jane’s shoulder, and makes her way across the room. She takes her drink with her.

Loki doesn’t turn around, even though Darcy makes no effort to sneak, so she props an elbow on the stone bannister and leans on it cheesily with her hip out. Loki still doesn’t look at her. The side of his face is nice enough, but it’s annoying to be ignored when she knows she looks like a million bucks. Darcy sighs, takes a big sip of her wine, and looks out over the city instead.

Asgard at night is surprisingly bright. There’s fires blazing in raised dishes throughout the street. People mill about, walking in groups and laughing together. Darcy maintains that Asgard seems like a nice place. Nighttime lends a different quality to the city, more of a steady glimmer in the dark than towering glory. The dark is vast though.

Beyond Asgard, beyond the jackfrost, spreads the universe. Galaxies swirl and collide. It’s like the stars in New Mexico but so much more. It's endless and deep and awe-inspiring. It's the most terrible thing Darcy's ever seen. It reminds her that nobody is coming to save her from way out there. She's small and she's got friends, but they're small too. Small compared to the great wide everything. Darcy can tell she’s gawking. She doesn’t really care.

“You guys really don’t half-ass anything around here, do you?”

Loki makes a noise like a surprised huff, “If you’re trying to seduce me, you’re doing an exceedingly poor job.”

Darcy leans both elbows on the bannister, matching his disinterested body language, “I don’t seduce people. If I wanted to get with someone, I’d tell them that they’re hot and that we should bone and they’re either into it or they’re not.”

Loki gives her a sideways look and Darcy tries not to look back, “I can assure you, mortal, I am not interested.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Loki scoffs. Darcy scoffs back.

The guys back home usually either got put off by her confidence once they got past her looks or pretended to think she was funny until they had a disagreement then decide that they didn’t find her funny anymore. She couldn’t tell which one Loki would be. Regardless, bothering him was a sight more fun than hearing Thor gush over Jane for three hours straight. Pestering the man who wanted to kill her for little hints like a classic Jigsaw victim. What a joke. Darcy couldn’t believe her life had come to this kind of end so quickly. She was way too cool to die young.

Darcy decides that even if she might be poking the proverbial bear, she might as well satisfy her own curiosity, “Why do you even care if you get married? Just get divorced, half of my world does it. It’s not that bad if you keep your finances separate.”

Loki gives her a long incredulous look as if he can’t believe she’s daring to question him. Darcy shrugs and goes back to people watching far below. After another long silence, Loki speaks.

“It doesn’t work like that here, mortal. I will live for many millennia more. It is a punishment for me. If I get married, I will be bound to my spouse until they die or I die.”

“Or you kill them.”

A smile spreads on Loki’s face and he looks out over the city with more good humour than he'd shown all day. Darcy'd think it was nice if it wasn't for the subject matter being her potential death. “Or I kill them. Which is not much different than I was doing before, don’t you think?”

“Fair,” Darcy shrugs, “Sucks that your punishment is everyone else’s though. Can’t they pop you in a cell to chill out for a minute?”

“Doesn’t work. I tend to get out.”

“What about kicking you out of Asgard?”

“Doesn’t work. I tend to get back in.”

“Pulling teeth?”

“They grow back.”

“Gross.”

Loki lifts his hands as if to congratulate himself, “I was born to survive. I don’t intend to stop now.”

“Jeez,” says Darcy, “You make it seem like a death sentence.”

Something like a scowl creeps across Loki's features, “I have lived free for a long time, by your puny standards. A burden like a spouse will start as an irritation and only grow into a festering open wound.”

“Yicgh.” There’s a bad taste in Darcy's mouth. She’s at least thirty percent sure it’s not the Asgardian food. Although, that reminds her why she came over in the first place, “So why not just call it a good game and let me go? I didn’t know what the plate thing was for and I don’t want to be your festering sore or whatever cute metaphor you have going on there. You know Thor will beat your ass if you kill me, or Jane will find out if you do some weird shit like impersonate me to make her think I’m not dead and then Thor will beat your ass again.”

“Those are two separate timelines. I would only get my ‘ass beat’ once if I killed you in either scenario.”

“Whatever. You gonna let me go or what?”

“No.”

He says it smugly. Infuriating isn’t the right word. Slappable. His face is getting very slappable.

“What?” Darcy nearly yells, “Why? Give me one good reason.”

“If Thor comes after me I will simply turn into a snake and bite him.”

“That’s it?!”

“That is one reason. And it is good.”

“Fuck me,” Darcy says dejectedly. There really is no high road with this guy. Just the winding side streets where everything is one-way but never the way you want to go and sometimes you can't see the one-way sign until you're halfway down the one-lane street with no shoulder and there's an angry Italian taxi driver honking at you as they drive directly at you and you have to reverse down the one-way street like a bozo.

She might just hate one-ways.

“It wouldn’t change the fact that you will die tomorrow," drawls Loki, "But maybe I could be tempted. I haven’t lain with a Midgardian since long before your time.”

“Dude! No. It’s a figure of-” A crinkle forms at the side of his eyes and Darcy realizes he's messing with her. “Jesus Christ.”

“No, not likely. He seems more one for the Light Elves.”

Darcy stares at him and he stares back, “You haven’t… met him… have you? Actually, you know what, I don’t want to know. I am going to go drown myself in whatever the blue stuff is and pretend this whole thing is a weird theme bar in Boston. Cheers.”

Darcy clinks her goblet against his metal lapel and wanders back to her seat.

Loki’s laugh echoes in her ears the whole way.

Chapter Text

The handmaidens wake Darcy at the ass-crack of dawn to dress her for her execution. Darcy knows it’s the ass-crack of dawn because she can still kind of see the cold vastness of space beyond the purply veil of morning. It’s the worst.

Jane comes to her room when they’re done with her and they eat breakfast together even though Darcy isn’t all that hungry. The dress she wears today is pale green with wide straps merging into the V-wrap neckline and two thin gold ropes tying at her waist. She looks more like an extra in a renaissance painting than a fairy today. She asked the handmaidens for a cape but all they gave her was a trailing piece of gossamer fabric from her shoulders to her train. A cape for sissies.

“Why don’t I feel hungover?” Darcy asks, taking a tentative bite out of a pastry, “I played that drinking game with Thor’s buddies then everything got kind of blurry. I should probably be hungover right?”

She can hear a hint of panic in her words and feels annoyed at herself. She’d rather fall apart on the walk to the chopping block and see if anyone wants to save her then. Save the tears for the show and all.

Jane rubs a hand reassuringly, “It’s the Asgardian wine. Good stuff. And don’t worry, Thor won’t let anything happen to you.”

Darcy nods and sniffles, “If I die you totally have to break up with him.”

A firm knock at the door cuts off Jane’s reply. They both get to their feet. Darcy gives her back a good crack. Jane opens the door to find Lady Sif, back in her warrior gear.

Lady Sif gives them both a nod in greeting, “It’s time.”

The walk back to the throne room helps Darcy shake off the last of her grogginess. She’s going to try the test because she wants to know the answer. Lady Sif assures her that if it goes awry, she and Thor will help Darcy escape back to Midgard. Darcy is not particularly reassured by that. Earth hasn’t been a great place to hide from anything, historically speaking.

All too soon she’s standing before Odin, Thor, Loki, and his guards. Loki looks vaguely annoyed to be there and Odin looks like a statue of a pirate. The image of Pirate Odin is kind of hilarious to Darcy. She laughs, receives an elbow from Jane, and transforms it into a cough.

Sif, Jane, and Darcy drop into bows. Darcy is once again plagued by the intrusive thought to flip Odin off. She grips her skirts by her middle fingers instead. It might be her imagination, but she thinks she hears Loki snort.

“Speak your answers, mortal, and let you find success or death,” booms Odin.

Darcy shifts side to side, “Can I hear the riddles again? Maybe one by one? My mortal brain had too much wine last night to possibly comprehend the complexity of Agardian yada yada.”

Loki sighs petulantly, “Can we not drag this out this morning? I wish to hunt in the mountains. All these mortals are most tiresome.”

“Just run them back, a-” Darcy notices Odin giving her a disapproving look”-nteater.”

Lok shakes his head, but complies anyway, “What is born each night and dies each dawn?”

Darcy’s knee-jerk reaction is to say the moon, but a sharp look from Jane causes her to think it through a bit more carefully. There’s a new moon every month so it doesn’t make sense anyway. Darcy remembers what Lady Sif said about Loki, soft center.

There’s all those inspirational quotes from elementary school classrooms about things being darkest before dawn. Those are soft, right? Darcy decides if nothing else, they would be applicable.

“Hope,” says Darcy, “Because you hope for morning through the night but you don’t need to hope for morning once it comes.”

Loki narrows his eyes. Darcy narrows her eyes back.

“Correct,” announces Odin, “Provide the next riddle, son.”

Darcy holds back a squeal of victory. Take that, Silvertongue.

“What flickers red and warm like a flame, but is not fire?” Loki speaks with a carefully bored tone. She’s rattled him, a little bit at least.

This one isn’t as hard as the one before. All she has to do is think like a medieval knight like the rest of Asgard seems to think and the answer falls into her lap. It gives Darcy pause to wonder why this one is easier now than it seemed yesterday. People died for this, hundreds of them. Why is she having fun beating Loki’s little test? She was quaking in her boots ten minutes ago. She should still be afraid now. Why does she only feel a little rush of adrenaline? She’s on a roll though, and she doesn’t want to slow down to doubt herself.

“Blood,” she says, “because you know, hot. Red.”

The room is silent for a moment. Odin peers down at Darcy with his one eyeball.

“Correct again. She must have picked the answer from someone,” Odin mutters. Darcy tries not to scoff at that, it’s not like these riddles are rocket science. And she knows a bit of rocket science. “Last riddle.”

Loki visibly gulps as Odin’s gaze slides over to him. Darcy knows they’re not actually related, but she can see the family resemblance. Odin is every bit of a self-congratulatory snake he accuses Loki of being.

“Fine,” says Loki, he turns to Darcy, all smug like he’s certain she won’t get this one, “What is ice which gives you fire and which your fire freezes still more?”

Darcy’s brain helpfully offers Smirnoff Ice as her first suggestion. But the second part wouldn’t make any sense. Something tickles the back of her mind. Ice. There’s a world of ice, isn’t there? Jordyhime or something. That’s the whole rub of Loki in Asgard, right? Jane said he’s not one of them. He’s a frosty guy. An ice giant.

Lady Sif was right, he is self-centered. ‘Gives you fire’ alright hotshot, she thinks, keep telling yourself that. But. The second part still rubs Darcy the wrong way. It’s like a little act of defiance to bring up the ice giants in his own punishment. A little fuck you to dear old dad. She respects Loki a little bit more for it. Lady Sif also said he wears his failures. ‘Your fire freezes still more’. What about her would have anything to do with the frost giants?

Then she sees it. Her heart gives a strange little twist of sadness. Loki sucks in a sharp breath as he watches Darcy’s face go from puzzling to pitying. He knows she knows. His own arrogance and need for revenge has got in his own way again. And he knows it.

“You, Loki,” Darcy says into the tense silence of the hall, “You’re made of ice and you’re afraid of me. Well not me, but what I represent. You don’t want love or ‘fiery’ passion or whatever your suitors are offering you. You just want to be free.”

The tense silence stretches long. Darcy wonders if she should start running yet.

Odin’s laugh breaks the silence. It’s a booming laugh, from the gut. Thor joins in, then Sif, then the guards. Soon, Darcy, Jane, and Loki are the only one’s not laughing. Loki looks like a deer in the headlights. Darcy wishes she had her phone to take a picture, but it died sometime before dinner last night. She actually caught Loki, the trickster god. It would be a tabloid piece for sure.

“Correct!” Odin gasps between laughs, “A common mortal from Midgard, too! A suiting punishment for out ambitious Loki!”

“Rude,” Darcy mumbles under her breath.

The desire to scream ‘Ha! In your face asshole!’ at Loki has left her altogether. She didn't imagine that she would actually beat the riddle, but now that she has, there's no enthusiasm in the win. She doesn’t even feel like doing a victory dance for not getting beheaded. It’s that last riddle. It bothers her. Loki is supposed to be this villain-god, untouchable and vile. But it’s painted all over his face now just as it was woven through the riddle. He’s afraid.

He meets her gaze. Something changes in his expression like a switch flicking on. A muscle jumps in his jaw. One of his eyebrows raises in a challenge. Darcy is pretty sure she should be running.

The thought comes too late.

There’s a flash of gold light. Loki suddenly isn’t standing amidst his guards anymore. His breath runs warm across Darcy’s cheek. She goes completely still. Something sharp presses against her throat and an arm wraps around her middle, keeping her pressed back against his chest. Trapped.

If Darcy wasn’t back to thinking about her head staying attached to her body, she might have appreciated what a firm chest that was or how nice that arm felt wrapped around her. But no. The knife had to go and ruin all that.

Thor raises his hand and catches his hammer, armor scrolling out across his body.

“Let the mortal go, brother,” Thor orders.

Loki hoists Darcy closer by the waist and the knife bites into her neck. Jane gasps.

“No,” snarls Loki, “I won’t be kept down. I won’t be sworn into a life of servitude.”

In the instant between Thor raising his hammer and bringing it down, Darcy has a thought. It’s a strange moment of clarity, like she’s thrust outside her body watching it unfold from above.

What is she doing? Why is she waiting around to marry someone who very explicitly does not want to marry her? Non-consensual marriage sounds objectively shitty. Forget domestic bliss. Loki was already a like a bird of prey to her mouse when she was just another human in the masses. What does she expect to happen when he personally resents her for the festering wound thing? She doesn’t need to keep passing Loki’s tests. She doesn’t need to win.

“WAIT!” Darcy yells right before Thor’s hammer comes down. Thankfully he listens, pausing with his hammer crackling blue and white electricity in the air above Darcy and Loki.

“What now?” Loki mutters exasperatedly.

Darcy looks up to Odin with her best simpering mortal impression, “May I offer a concession, O Allfather?”

Odin frowns, “Go on.”

“Since I am but a common mortal, unfit for a place such as this and the honour of your mightiest of families, I can offer a riddle of my own? If Loki guesses correctly, he could be subject to,” Darcy tries to come up with a number that would make sense to an immortal, “one hundred years of imprisonment at your most secure jail. A hole in a rock under a rock type of thing. I would leave Asgard forever… in total shame of course. It would spare the lives of many good suitors from your allies and maintain good faith across the nine realms.”

Odin tilts his head and strokes his beard, “An interesting proposition, and if he fails?”

“We go on with the wedding and he gets stuck with a funny little mortal spouse until he undoubtedly kills me. It will be great entertainment either way,” Darcy’s voice doesn’t shake over the killing part and she gives herself an internal pat on the back.

Thor lowers his hammer from above Loki’s head and Loki lowers his blade from Darcy’s neck.

Loki speaks quietly against her ear while Odin appears to be mulling it over, “You are entertaining, aren’t you? You know I will escape that rock under the rock with ease.”

Darcy shrugs way more nonchalantly than she feels, “That sounds like an Asgard problem, bucko. I’ll be out of here by then, shamefully of course.”

“Of course,” Loki purrs. A shiver runs down Darcy’s spine. It’s not the icky kind of shiver. It’s more like anticipation. Yikes, totally not the time to get distracted.

“I agree," announces Odin," I have grown weary of the beheading of good citizens. It’s wasteful,” Odin glares in Loki’s direction, which is also Darcy’s direction, “Speak up then, girl, state your riddle.”

Darcy wracks her brain for something easy. Something from a Renaissance fair or a fantasy video game script. Something vague and grand, but dumb easy.

She’s got it.

Easy enough that he’ll get it and she can get the heck out of dodge, cryptic enough that it fits the theme.

“Okay, Loki Odinson,” Darcy says, he releases her and takes a flourishing bow in mock chivalry which almost makes her stumble over her words, “To answer this riddle you must not seek counsel with Jane Foster, Thor, or his, uh, Allknowingness.”

Odin nods his head in acknowledgement of his allknowingness-ness.

“I won’t need to,” Loki says all boastful, “I’m the Silvertongue, the Liesmith. You have my word I will come to the answer on my own wits.”

“Sure,” deadpans Darcy, “If you say so. What’s my name?”

Loki blinks, “I beg your pardon?”

Darcy crosses her arms and stares him down, pulling out her Lord of the Rings words, “That is the riddle. What is my name? An unnamed mortal from a land without suitors comes to Asgard to compete for your hand. Surely you investigated such a mystery as this?”

Loki opens his mouth. And then closes it with a furrowed brow. Darcy almost can’t believe it. It was a low-ball question. It was supposed to be easy, but no. The jackass never even bothered to learn her name. No way in hell is he allowed to guess wrong. She has to make it easier. Darcy cuts him off before he tries to argue with her.

“Since Midgard has complexity of culture beyond your comprehension,” she says sarcastically, “I’ll grant you until tomorrow morning to produce an answer. Late morning. Like noon.”

“Excellent,” says Odin quickly, altogether too pleased for Darcy’s comfort. He doesn’t think Loki can do it either. Awesome.

Loki gives Darcy a cold glare and proceeds to storm off with the guards scrambling to follow him out.

With a low bow, Darcy asks Odin, “Can I go now, your Holiness?”

Odin nods once, look of amusement gone with the wind. She and Jane are back to lowly mortals again. Fuck this guy, seriously.

Darcy gives him a thumbs up, grabs Jane by the arm, and hoofs it out of there as fast as her little slippers will go. Lady Sif and Thor follow behind at a more leisurely pace. Darcy doesn’t stop until she’s on her balcony gulping down fresh air.

Apparently, there are worse things to be running from than monsters.

Chapter Text

Loki throws up a glamour of himself reading calmly the moment he enters the room. He waits until the guards’ eyes are fixed on the false-Loki. Then he starts pacing.

Back and forth like a caged wolf. Half his miserable life has been spent caged. Another cage, another deal gone bad. One of the creatures that cursed him over the years is laughing right now. He can almost… hear it.

He kicks a table and it sails straight off the balcony. It feels good for a brief moment. It still doesn’t solve his problem.

His problem being a mortal with lovely blue eyes and naively free words. The only thing caged about her is her mortality, easily wasted away in the blink of an eye. Loki shakes his head. He can’t tell if he’s jealous of her freedom or her death. It’s against his nature to die, but sometimes it sounds nice. The slip of oblivion like a calming draught.

He can’t do that. Not yet. So he has to talk his way out. What to say to move this mortal?

It was surprising that she rang Ymir’s plate. He watched her struggle to lift the mallet from above and wondered what new fool was this. She had no entourage, no fanfare. She carried her own belongings.

It was surprising when she appeared before him, lying about her intentions. She lied confidently, with her chin up. He liked that in a woman, especially the mortal ones which had so little power to fall back on. Their lies always carry the highest stakes. Loki likes the weight of them.

Loki shakes his head and turns on his heel to pace the other direction. He does not like this mortal. She is just surprising, that’s all. That’s it. Loki, unfortunately, feels his own lie turn itself over in his mind like a scolded pup. Lying to himself is still a work in progress it seems.

It was surprising when she approached him at the feast. While she was the only suitor granted a night to consider her answer, many others shrank away from him even at a distance. She spoke plainly and made no effort to hide her displeasure. The mortal acted as if she mattered at all. It was impressive to behold, even if it was another weighty lie.

It was impossible that she answered his riddles correctly. Loki’s hands clench and unclench. Unless she read the mind Odin himself, there was no way the mortal could have found out the answer. He didn’t write it down and he certainly didn’t tell his guards. The last riddle was supposed to be impossible. No one was supposed to look through him like stained glass and see how he saw himself. No one was supposed to see something cold and lonely and afraid. They were supposed to see the petulant prince. They were supposed to see the needless death throughout the nine realms and choke on their fear. They all did. Except her.

Loki steps out onto the balcony to breathe, checking that the guards are still watching false-Loki reading the same book he’s read for the last six moons. Odin claimed these were his cleverest guards. They should have let loose Fenrir instead.

She’d asked him at the feast why he wasn’t letting her go. The snake scenario, while true, wasn’t the truth. Here was finally a suitor who didn’t want his power or his family name. A loud little buffer to the horde in line. She’d seen the pain he’d caused, the heads he’d severed, and feared it. But she didn’t seem to know to fear him as she should have. So maybe he doesn’t want to move onto the next one so quickly. So maybe he wants to linger in a sunny spot amidst the cold shadows of greed and sorrow. So maybe he'd cast those shadows himself and is looking for somewhere to run. He wants the mortal to stay. However, he wants his freedom more.

It was surprising to see a spark of mischief in her eyes when she gave him a way out. She bartered over his freedom even after he’d threatened her short life. She’d subtly insulted Odin and secured her safety in one masterful move. It wasn’t a play of politics. Mortals were insignificant to him, and this mortal wasn't even one of the useful ones. She had no pieces to play except herself. And she’d done it beautifully. And he’d still fallen short.

His frustration threatens to drown him. Loki rakes a hand through his hair to steady himself. Now is not the time for self pity. Now is not the time for doubt. He still has time to use the escape she’d given him. He just has to find her name. Loki doesn’t know exactly what his next ten steps might be, but he knows his next one.

He flops into the pose of the false-Loki and hops up again. The guards jump to attention.

Loki smiles cheerfully, “Let’s pay my-groom-to-be a visit.”

Darcy stands on the balcony and breathes. She stopped crying a few minutes ago. It had been a good cry. One of the ones with hiccups and snot. Lady Sif gave her a handkerchief and Darcy nearly swooned. That was five minutes ago. Now she's just angry.

That son of a bitch. He’s toying with her, he has to be. Maybe they all are. She hates being the butt of the joke. It had been a long time since middle school.

A knock at the door pulls her out of her thoughts. Darcy turns to face it but doesn’t move from the balcony. So maybe there's nowhere to run from about three hundred feet up, but it feels better to have space between her and the door. Thor gets up from where he sat with Jane and Lady Sif around the table. Darcy holds her breath. Thor opens the door to a palace guard. Behind the palace guard stands Loki.

Darcy lets the breath out all at once.

Loki waves to her. She flips him off. It feels about as good as she thought it would. He doesn't look offended, but she'll take what she can get.

“May I speak to the mortal alone?” Loki says smoothly.

“No,” says Thor. Darcy loves Thor so much. She owes him a six-pack next time he comes to Earth.

Loki frowns, “Brother, please. If I wanted to harm your friends I would have done a little better than a scratch.”

Darcy’s hand jumps to her throat. She doesn’t feel any scratch. He never broke the skin.

“I cannot allow harm to come to them,” Thor says, “They’re under my protection.”

“How about I talk to her over there,” Loki points to Darcy on the balcony, “And you stand here,” he points to the table, speaking extra slowly, “And look heroic.”

Thor seems to puzzle over it, “If you throw her from the balcony, I will catch her.”

Darcy takes a big step away from the edge of the balcony.

Loki rolls his eyes, “Yes, yes, I know. Big strong man with hammer. Now let me in.”

Instead of stepping aside, Thor looks back to Darcy expectantly. She nods because she figures he'll just zoot himself over if they close the door on him. Thor crosses his arms and moves one inch to the side so Loki has to squeeze to get by. Darcy turns away to feel the sun on her face because she kind of doesn’t want to talk to him even though she knows she should.

It’s weird. Even though she knows he’s coming, she still jumps a bit when he appears out of the corner of her eye. He’s a sneaky asshole. Asshole being the main point.

Loki leans over the edge of the balcony, the same way he was at the feast, and sighs contentedly. Darcy glares at the water in the distance and keeps her distance from the edge of the balcony. He shouldn’t be content. He couldn’t remember her name, or never learned it in the first place. Same difference, really.

“For what it may or may not be worth to you,” Loki says, “I am sorry.”

“Yeah, right. Like this whole thing isn’t going your way,” Darcy says venomously.

Loki glances at her sideways, looking amused. She glares at him. At least he's not laughing at her. She’d probably try to push him off if he laughed at her, then they’d both go over and he'd survive and she wouldn’t and some other desperate soul would come to offer themselves for a piece of Asgard. It’s dumb. The whole thing is dumb.

“Don’t be cross with me,” Loki wheedles, “I was just trying to save my skin. No one else will do it for me this time, not even my dutiful brother.”

“And what about my skin?” Darcy says, throwing up her hands, “It’s your fault you didn’t let me go when I asked and it’s your fault you’re too much of a narcissistic dick that you didn’t learn my name.”

Loki laughs deprecatingly, “Mortal names are like leaves on the wind, why would I learn one if a thousand others blow right by? You can imagine how I didn't come to learn yours. An oversight, I admit.”

“Yeah,” says Darcy, “No duh.”

They’re both quiet for a moment. Loki looks out over the city fondly. Darcy didn’t figure he liked it here all that much, considering how much he obviously wants to leave.

“Why do they call you Odinson, when they all know you’re not?” Darcy isn’t sure exactly where the question comes from. Those riddles got in her head. He’s got in her head. That’s annoying.

Loki smiles tightly, “It’s Odinson when he’s claiming my success and Loki when he’s denouncing my failings. The people were never supposed to know that I am truly a Laufeyson. This failure is his own though, he won’t denounce himself. So Odinson it is. Does your surname decry your breeding, mortal?”

“Nah, my last name is Lewis so-” Darcy cuts herself off, “Hey! Quit it! I’m not going to just tell you my name. You need to spend some more time feeling bad about it. I don’t think you feel bad enough about it yet.”

Loki shrugs, “You nearly did though. Lewisdaughter is half the battle already won.”

“My dad’s name isn’t Lewis.”

“But you said Lewis.”

“Yeah- But- nevermind. The patriarchy is a bit more subtle in the naming on Earth, or at least in the states. More, I don’t know, low-key?”

“Yes?”

“Good one.”

They chuckle with each other like a pair of dumbasses for a second until Darcy remembers that she’s supposed to be mad at him. She stops smiling and looks down at her ringless fingers. Loki cocks his head curiously.

“You really do not wish to be an Asgardian princess, do you?”

Darcy shakes her head, a strange heavy feeling settling in her heart, “No, dude. I really don’t. All these court people either seem stuck up or scary violent. That includes you, by the way. Except for Lady Sif, she rocks,” to her surprise, Loki nods in agreement. Well at least they have appreciating Lady Sif in common. It’s the little things. “It doesn’t seem like a very chill time. And you had all those people killed so… super not chill.”

“Is this ‘chill’ something you desire?” Loki asks mirthfully. Darcy gives him a sour look. Of course he can pick out that she’s not entirely telling the truth.

“Like, yes and no,” Darcy takes a second to press down on the fluster growing warm in her cheeks, “Of course I want to have a good time and see cool shit. But when I think about settling down, which I don’t because I’m young and hot, let's be clear on that, there’s no box labelled ‘laser sword fights to the death’ or ‘viking funeral pyre lighting’. Maybe I’d do a stint in the peace corps if it gets less corrupted or go on a honeymoon in Spain. You probably don’t know what Spain is. Not the point. The point is that I didn’t grow up dreaming of galactic stag hunts on my wedding night or whatever it is you people do. I don't want this life and I definitely don't want it chosen for me.”

Loki nods along thoughtfully. Darcy’s pretty sure he’s humouring her until he can get what he wants. It’s an irritating trait, but also kind of… endearing? God, she needs to get a grip. He's putting the man in manipulate and she's buying right in. She knows if this goes sideways, she'll look back and be embarrassed about thinking she was starting to like him.

“There will be no stag hunt,” Loki says, “There’s usually a mock kidnapping the night before though. You probably won’t like that.”

Darcy puts a hand up to stop him, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll there, superchief. I am NOT getting kidnapped and we are NOT getting married.”

Loki fixes her with a rakish grin, “Tell me your name and we won’t. Simple as that.”

So that's how it is. All 'puny mortal' when he's got something she wants and all 'let's get married' when she's finally got a little leverage. She's enjoying her moment with the upper hand too much to let it go just yet.

“No,” says Darcy with a cocky grin of her own, “I don’t feel like it.”

Loki groans in frustration and lays his forehead on the bannister.

“You are my punishment, aren’t you,” his words are muffled under his hair, “Sent straight from Vanahiem to vex me.”

Darcy kind of likes the sound of it, “Yeah. Maybe I am. Now get out, I want to go do some touristy shit and you have a name to find.”

Loki stands up to scrutinize her. Darcy sticks out her tongue. He repeats the gesture. She likes him a little more for it. She forgets to tell herself not to.

“What can I give you then?” Loi asks exasperatedly, “Riches? Glory? Romance? I could find any of it from anyone you wanted. Just tell me your name.”

Darcy puts a hand on her hip, “You could go pick some romance off the street for little old me? Wow, I’m tickled pink.”

Suddenly Loki is right in her space. Darcy isn’t sure whether he stepped closer or just appeared. He’s certainly close now. Those are some stunning eyes, aren’t they. He tilts Darcy’s chin up with the pad of his finger. She lets him. A sly smile plays at the corner of Loki’s mouth.

Darcy can’t seem to catch her breath.

“You may find,” drawls Loki in his Asgardian accent, “I can give you whatever it is your heart desires.”

“Uh-huh,” says Darcy eloquently.

Loki draws his finger across her jaw slowly, tracing down her neck. Darcy feels her pulse kick. Neither of them look away. There’s an itch of impatience under her skin. Is he going to kiss her or what?

“Name yourself, and I’ll give you what you desire most in the universe,” murmurs Loki.

“I want…”

“Yes?”

His hand settles against the side of her neck, just under her jaw. His thumb rubs against the sensitive skin behind her ear. It’s warm. Darcy likes the way it feels. It’s probably not a good thing that she likes it. It can't be all that bad either. Something in the middle. For an ice guy, he’s warm.

“I'd kill for some cool ranch Doritos right about now.”

Loki’s left eye twitches.

Darcy bursts out laughing.

“AH AH HAHAHA! Your face!” Loki’s hand slips away as she doubles over cackling and gasping for air.

There’s a bit of red in his cheeks as he testily crosses his arms, “Just give me your name and be done with this charade.”

“No,” Darcy says through a laugh, holding herself up by her thighs, “I’m gonna need to recover from this for a few hours. Take a hike.”

“I will do no such-!” Loki seems to think better of it and quits while he’s ahead, shaking his finger at her. She got him good, she's pretty proud of herself. Tricking the trickster, even over something small, makes her feel like she has a bit more control. Everything's spiralling otherwise. Loki does a weak bow, barely inclining his head. Darcy does a really terrible curtsy, still barely containing her laughter. She catches him smiling again as he turns to leave, all bemuse-y.

Loki walks out. Darcy clutches her sides, trying to breathe normally again. What a riot. She kind of wishes Loki had come with Thor to New Mexico in the beginning of all this. It would have been nice to have a buddy to hang out with while Thunder Thighs and Ms. Universe over there were making moon eyes at each other. War criminality aside, of course.

From the table, Jane gives Darcy a ‘what the hell’ look. Darcy shrugs and tries to look as confused as Jane. She doesn’t imagine she’s all that convincing. She knows exactly what the hell that was.

If she had to put a name to it, Darcy would have called it shenanigans.

Chapter Text

Darcy is slightly less drunk than she wants to be. Without the threat on her life hanging over her, she takes the time at the feast to really enjoy the food and Thor’s weird friends. The Warriors Three have to be the most emotionally balanced people she’s met in Asgard. They hug each other a lot. Darcy appreciates bros who hug each other. Makes for good dads.

She’s never disliked Thor, but seeing him interact with his friends from home convinces Darcy that he’s the right one for Jane. It was hard to picture them together at first, they seemed so obsessed with each other and also so different from each other that Darcy sometimes felt like she was watching a slow-mo car crash and not the foundation of a lasting relationship. But Thor hugs his bros. Bro-hugging is a good foundation for anything.

Loki does not do a whole lot of bro-hugging. He doesn’t show up to the feast and Darcy has never seen him with his own friends that aren’t also Thor’s. She doesn’t mind. He’s probably interrogating his poor guards or something. The Asgardian sweet cakes more than make up for his absence.

After the slightly unsettling and very dumb conversation earlier, Thor had actually taken Darcy to do some touristy shit. They went to an Asgardian market where everyone kept bowing at Thor until he got annoyed and put on a hooded cloak to disguise himself. Darcy was pretty sure everyone was just humouring and pretending to treat him as a commoner because they kept on offering him free stuff. Darcy easily accepted the free stuff until Jane told them to let the people earn a living wage. Thor looked perplexed as if he hadn’t considered it before. Darcy kept one of the bracelets. Space bracelet. In the late afternoon they flew around the mountains on one of the boaty things. Darcy liked when they went through the spray of the waterfall. The water droplets refracted the light into a thousand little rainbows curving through the air. They all got soaked, but Thor dried them off with his hunky god powers. Darcy had almost forgot about why they needed to go back to the palace at all.

Jane excuses herself somewhere at the halfway point of Volstag’s story about something called Rhine Gold. It’s a really good story. There are mermaids. Darcy sticks out until the end when Loki apparently switched the gold out for a flame and no one bothered to check until he was long gone. She laughs along with the Warriors Three and the laugh turns into a yawn. The taser she’d stuffed under her boobs in the pale green wrap dress is starting to dig into her ribs uncomfortably. She’d wanted to be able to avoid dying the next time someone holds a knife to her neck, but it’s more bother than it's worth at this point. Time to call it a night.

She stands up, wobbling only a little bit. Waving off Thor’s offer to walk her back to her rooms, Darcy barely remembers to bow in the general direction of the head of the table. Then she wobbles off in the general direction of her room. Chamber. Whatever.

Okay so maybe the halls kind of look the same. And maybe there are all these people she doesn’t know stumbling around drunk and laughing. And maybe she’s walked past the passage to the guest rooms already. She’ll come back to it if she keeps walking right?

Okay so maybe not.

She stops at the entrance of a little courtyard thingy. She’s never seen a courtyard thingy in the palace before. It’s nice in there. Curling carved pillars line the walkway around it. There’s a little pond reflecting the moonlight, a little shrubby thing with white flowers, and an intricately detailed bench carved straight from stone. Darcy considers going to take a seat and waiting until she remembers how to get back to her room.

Then.

Someone is speaking. A low voice. A sly tilt to the words.

Darcy peers around a pillar.

“You know it will be easier if you just tell me,” says Loki, “I don’t want to take it, but I will.”

Darcy can’t see him. The sound is coming right from the centre of the courtyard as if from some invisible source. Is that something he can do?

She shakes off the thought. Probably. He seems like he could probably be invisible.

“This is your own doing, Loki. You should have let her go when she asked.”

Darcy’s stomach drops and she doesn’t feel all that buzzed anymore. It’s Jane. Jane is somewhere in there with Senior Stabby Guy. Alone.

“Fine,” says Loki, “If you won’t give the name, then I’ll take it myself.”

There’s a beat of silence. A rustling of fabric. Then Jane screams.

Darcy moves quickly, automatically. She draws her taser, leans her elbow on the railing of the walkway, and aims in the spot she thinks Loki’s in. She fires.

The charge shoots across the courtyard and lands on something. The wires hang suspended in mid air. There’s a buzz of electricity. Out of nothing, flickers Loki and Jane. His hands are on her head but his face is the one twisted in pain.

Jane wrenches herself out of his grip, breathing hard. Loki slumps to his knees, shuddering.

Darcy rushes down the stairs, taser in hand. She doesn’t stop until she’s standing over Loki with Jane behind her back. Loki’s eyelids flutter.

Anger running hot, Darcy puts her hand on his head the way he'd done to Jane.

“You wanna know my name? My name’s Darcy, bitch!”

She pushes him into the pond.

He goes down with a splash.

Loki is unhappy when he eventually gathers the strength to peel himself from the pond.

He briefly considers transforming into an eel and staying in the water until the mortals leave. He could slither along the rocky bed and wonder how he let her get the better of him. He could breathe through his gills until the sun came up and his own wedding passed him by. He could stay put and avoid something complicated like escaping prison again.

He was never one for staying put.

It’s not necessarily the electrocution that causes the unhappiness. He pushes himself to his feet and feels the water roll down his back. It was the thing that happened after the electrocution that’s the pain. It’s the way he felt a rush of satisfaction when the mortal girl spoke. The way her voice ignited something in his chest that had been sleeping for too long. That’s causing his unhappiness.

The words tumbles around in his mind. Another leaf in the wind, to be sure, but a beautiful one nonetheless. Darcy.

Loki had been perfectly happy not knowing. He had been perfectly content skirting around the edge of the issue. Then the issue at present went and pinned him to the spot with her Midgardian toy. There’s nowhere to run from it now. It’s in his head and it won’t be leaving.

He arranges his hair. He rubs a hand over his eyes. He straightens out his clothes. He thinks that he should have just married the Niflheim prince and killed him in the evening.

Because going to war with Niflheim again would be better than falling in love with a human. Which is what he appears to be doing. A cosmic joke. It's not very funny.

The mortal, Darcy, holds the weapon in front of her pointed at him. Loki picks the wires from the back of his coat and holds the tabs out to her.

“Will you be needing these, then?”

Darcy glares at him, inches forward, and snatches them back. Loki doesn’t try to grab her. What would do with a mortal that has no particular political value? Maybe he could ransom her back to Thor in exchange for Mjolnir. Although Thor would likely just hit him with Mjolnir and Loki has had enough electrocution for one evening.

“Shut up,” she says.

Loki lifts his hands in surrender. The brainy one, Jane, steps out from behind Darcy. She doesn’t cower or even avoid his gaze. Loki likes this one for his brother. She’s a sight cleverer than Thor and resilient enough to tolerate him. He wouldn’t have actually hurt her. At least he doesn’t think he was going to. He just needed to pick her mind a bit. He supposes he has what he needs now regardless.

“Darcy, is it?” he says conversationally, testing the taste of it on his tongue.

Darcy nods obviously, “Yup. Now get the fuck away from us.”

Loki hadn’t looked at her closely before today. He finds he likes the look of her. Soft to the touch, although he knows she’s sharp by the bite of her words. The dress is obviously the seamster’s doing. It’s lovely enough, disguising her as a respectable Asgardian even though her stance betrays her. He knows it to be an illusion of a more substantial making than his own. She’d been wearing something with a bit more character when she’d rung Ymir’s plate. Character is surely not what Odin hopes for in a daughter. Loki finds he likes that. She holds the weapon steady in her unadorned hands, even though she must need to reassemble it to strike again. She’s lying confidently again. Loki likes that best of all.

Loki looks beseechingly at Jane, “May I speak to Darcy alone? Just for a moment.”

Jane gives him a look best described as negative, “Absolutely not! You just tried to melt my brain, I’m not leaving her alone with you!”

Loki is frustrated by this. Then he is frustrated that he’s frustrated. All very… frustrating. He doesn’t know exactly what he wants from Darcy, only that he doesn’t want her to go just yet. He wants to keep speaking to her. It’s as if his real challenges become smaller than their petty squabbles. He likes the feeling of it. He might even need it.

What does he say to keep speaking to her when she’s clearly not interested in speaking to him?

He puts on his most sincere expression, softening his eyes, and letting his hands hang by his sides. Unarmed, although his knife sheathes were full, and unthreatening, although he could kill them both without moving from his spot. Mortal women liked that, didn’t they?

“I want to tell you, Darcy,” he waits until she’s looking him in the eye. Oh? There’s a pause in her breathing and her eyes widen slightly. Loki carefully keeps his self-satisfied smirk down.

“Yeah?”

“I am in love with you.”

Loki likes the way it sinks in. Jane puts a hand to her mouth. Darcy’s jaw slackens and her lovely lips part. He’s got her. Excellent.

She lowers her weapon and… puts her hands on her hips with a skeptical stare.

“You know they call you all those bad names because you say anything to get what you want, right?” she states.

Loki sighs and gives up the act. He hasn’t got her. Just like earlier on the balcony when he thought he might have won her over. She makes an astute observation, though. He would say anything to get what he wants. He's becoming increasingly uncertain of exactly what that might be.

Jane looks between them, lost.

“I am aware,” Loki drawls, letting his displeasure seep through his voice. Is he displeased though? It would be less fun if she believed him. It's likely a good thing that she doesn't trust him. Distrustfulness is possibly the only one of her traits Odin would like in a daughter.

“So you can’t just say you love me and expect me to believe you," declares Darcy," It’s not that easy, even if you meant it, which you totally don’t. I don’t want the words, I want…”

“What?” Loki is genuinely curious. Jane’s expression has turned suspicious as if she’s watching a servant approach with her least favourite meal. Loki can tell she doesn’t understand why she and Darcy didn’t leave while he was face down in the pond. Loki can tell she doesn't want him to hear the rest. It makes Loki want to hear it more.

“You know…” Darcy looks up to the open sky high above. Loki looks at her. His eyes seem to stick in certain places. The sweep of her cheek. The tilt of her nose. Her lips again. The longer he looks at her, the more difficult it is to make out the parts of the whole from the whole itself. Herself. Darcy. “...the sound of it. It’s not about the words and it’s not about good acting. It’s, I don’t know, it’s just the sound. I’ll know it when I hear it.”

Loki grins. He can make noise.

“I love you. I love you. I adore you. You are dear to me. You shine like-”

“Can it, jerkwad,” Darcy cuts him off, “That’s not what I mean.”

“I figure with repetition I’d get it. Maybe I’ll keep practicing,” Loki muses. He probably will. It’s an interesting theory, feeling the sound and not the words. It will probably help in some manipulation of some Midgardian in the future. He likes learning new things.

“Sure,” Darcy deadpans, “Now scram. I need about ten hours of sleep to pretend I’m somewhere soothingly boring. Like Connecticut. You ever been to Connecticut?”

Loki raises his eyebrow, “Do you want me to leave or do you want me to stand here and discuss this Connected-cut? I don’t mind. I went to a place on Earth called the United Kingdom which seemed to be some kind of oxymoron. Fascinating place.”

“No, you’re right. No Connecticut. Get out of here.”

“Goodnight, Darcy. I am entirely captivated by you.”

“Kay. Bye.”

Darcy gestures to the stairs with her dismantled weapon. It's Jane's threatening look that convinces Loki to move. A formidable match for his brother to be sure.

Loki takes his leave smiling to himself. The blitheness of Darcy's words confirms it. He's finally tricked her. She didn't suspect a thing because he'd done something unexpected.

He'd told the truth.

Chapter Text

“No, you don’t understand. I’m not getting married today. I'm going home. Put me in some normal fucking clothes!”

The handmaidens just keep forcibly stuffing her into another green dress, this time more voluminous and complicated than before. Except once it’s on, Darcy realizes it isn’t another green dress. It’s a creation.

The bodice is made of some kind of black iridescent snakeskin. The scales are too big to be the snakes she knows and too round to be crocodile. They flash purple and gold as she moves. Darcy hopes PEETA doesn’t get her for this one. The neckline sweeps to one side in an angled tear drop shape, showing a bit of cleavage and sharpening to a point. The sleeves drop from her shoulders to the floor and Darcy figures this is as close as she’s getting to a cape today. There are golden thorns and welded foliage fastened onto the shoulders in a complicated interlocking design which extends down the sleeves to her upper arms. The full skirt is overlain with the black iridescent skin with slits revealing deep green satiny fabric below. They paint her face with deep red lips and shadowed eyes.

She looks like something venomous.

What in the hell are the seamsters doing? This isn’t the pretty and soft look they’d been putting her in before. What happened to soft and steady? It’s almost like they knew she was trying to be threatening last night and wanted to give her a hand. Well. Here she is then, pointy. She’s happy to have the eyeshadow back.

There’s some time to kill before the big riddle-answering in the throne room. She doesn’t want to be in her room anymore, not without Jane or Thor telling her what’s what. There’s too many handmaidens loitering around. She swears they’ve added a new one every six hours since she arrived. Darcy announces that she’s going for a wander and the handmaidens warn her not to leave the palace. She’s pretty sure she couldn’t get out if she tried.

The halls are easier to navigate in the morning light. Darcy doesn’t exactly know where Thor’s chambers are, but she figures she’ll eventually run into someone who does. Her feet pause at the bend of the next passage. It’s the courtyard again. She knows Jane and Thor aren’t there, but neither are the handmaidens. Darcy turns the corner and steps down the stairs into the courtyard. Maybe she’ll just sit and stare at the pond like some old timey lady who has nothing better to do than wait around. The thought is a bit depressing. Darcy goes and sits down on the stone bench anyway.

Is this what she’d been trying to avoid? Did she know yesterday that on some level that she would be setting herself up for a lifetime of waiting around for something to happen if she won? She definitely made the right call then. She’s gonna get on the bi-fish with Jane the minute this is over. When she gets home she’ll be able to brag with her whole chest that she went to space and got engaged to a god for two minutes. She probably won’t say which god. She has some common sense.

“If you’re trying to hide you’re doing an exceptionally poor job.”

Darcy jumps out of her skin and instinctively throws her fist out in the direction of the voice. Loki catches her hand, suddenly standing beside the bench. That’s annoying. Darcy glares at Loki. He glances down at her dress, expression approving. Darcy kicks him in the shin. He releases her hand.

“It’s rude to catch a lady’s punch,” Darcy says because she doesn’t really know what else to say.

Loki clasps his hands behind his back, “In that case, my deepest apologies.”

Darcy snorts, “You don’t mean it.”

“Neither do you.”

He has a point.

Darcy sighs and leans back on the bench, “You know, mass murder aside, I’ll probably miss having you skulk around giving me jumpscares. You’re a likeable guy when you’re not doing the murdering. Or at least entertaining,” she imitates the way he said it yesterday morning.

“You should know better than to be kind to me,” says Loki, sitting down on the other end of the bench and stretching an arm over the back casually, “You know what happens to people who keep my company.”

“Knife in the back? Yeah, I know. Still.”

Darcy doesn’t know how to say that as terrible as he’s been, as he’ll be forever, she’ll probably think about him every time she’s waiting for Jane’s dumb stratospheric current quantifier to spit a reading. Every time she wonders about what’s out there in the great wide everything, she’ll be thinking about him. She won’t say it. It sounds pathetic in her mind which means it will be completely humiliating to say out loud.

Loki looks into the mid-distance, “You’re my favourite mortal, I think. Definitely my favourite suitor.”

“Are you just saying that to make me say more nice things about you?”

“No. Sometimes I tell the truth. If it suits me.”

“In that case, thanks? I think?”

“You are most welcome,” Loki says as if he’s bestowed a great honour to her.

It’s ridiculous and dumb and it makes Darcy chuckle. Darcy’s laugh makes Loki smile. He looks at the pond and she looks at him. Forever must be such a long time. Or however long he was supposed to live. It's kind of wild that he isn’t dead yet with the way he seems to like pushing everyone’s buttons. It's kind of wild that she isn’t either.

“What do you think would have happened if I didn’t give you an out?” Darcy asks haltingly. She doesn’t know what she’s going to get out of the question beyond regret and another thing to keep her awake at night.

Loki regards Darcy from the other end of the bench. It’s a considerate look, like he’s rifling through his thoughts and her own. She doesn’t think he can do that from over there. But she doesn’t really know. She thinks really hard about those blob fish that live at the bottom of the ocean just in case.

“I suppose,” says Loki, “I would not have killed you right away.”

“Great start, champ.”

“I suppose,” continues Loki, “I would not flee Asgard. Not without you. I know my reputation precedes me, but I wouldn’t treat my spouse the way I treat my brother.”

“Really?” Darcy says skeptically. This line of reasoning is kind of interesting so she doesn’t tell him to stop.

Loki grins at her, “Really. I might even like to have a spouse, a partner in crime so to speak.”

“What happened to the festering wound thing?”

“I did not know your character then. Most of my suitors have been royalty of some sort or another, neither easily satiated nor agreeable. Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as the demanding type. Meddlesome, perhaps. I like a bit of mettle. I think we would get along quite well, you and I.”

Darcy shrugs, “As long as you don’t put on your sock and shoe on one foot before doing the other one, or like, kill someone I know, we might work it out. Or maybe we’d be the worst and you’d drive me mental and I’d kick you out and throw your stuff out the window onto the street shouting so all the neighbours know how much I hate you. The loving would be a different issue altogether.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, “The loving?”

“You seem pretty grossed out by humans,” elaborates Darcy, “I bet we’d be more like friends who met on study abroad then had to go home to their home countries. Maybe we'd be friendly, or maybe not. But we wouldn't be together. When I picture settling down with that one person, it’s a given they’d be a good fit for that kind of thing. It wouldn't work for me if my husband and I didn’t get along like that.”

“I’ll have you know,” Loki says in an offended huff, “I’m a most accomplished lover. Many h-”

“Ew,” interrupts Darcy, “Don’t start a sentence about your sex life with ‘many’. It just makes me think about STI’s. Are there STI’s in Asgard? Egh, actually don’t answer that.”

Loki glares at her. Darcy glares back. She kind of wants to go back to talking about socks. She kind of wants to know what he’s going to say next.

“Regardless. I would not disappoint.”

“Yeah, right,” says Darcy, “You’re all talk. All men are disappointing sooner or later.”

“Usually,” replies Loki, “But I can’t have my honour tarnished by such slander. Not on this matter. It's a point of pride.”

“What are you gonna do, read me a thrilling eyewitness report?” Darcy deadpans, “I’ll pass.”

Loki gives her another grin, slow and sly. Her brain is immediately on guard. Her body sure as hell isn’t. Darcy’s pretty sure if she let the thing growing warm between her hips drive her around, she’d be in a whole lot more trouble. And she’s in a lot of trouble as it is.

“Why don’t you come over here and I’ll prove it myself?”

Darcy stares at him, “Are you dumb?” She slides herself across the bench to keep her voice down, “I’m not fucking you in a courtyard.”

“Of course, not that. What about a kiss? You can give me your honest appraisal and we might know for certain.”

“Know what? That you’re really bad at taking no for an answer?”

“Whether we would have got along like that. If we were to be married, that is. I would never force you, I would never force anyone. Not on this matter. I don’t get refused often enough to be inconvenienced.”

Darcy decides that her brain must really have left the building because she kind of believes him. At least Jane’s not here to watch her make more bad decisions. And she knows this is a bad decision, but her curiosity wins over her self-preservation nine times out of ten. When in Rome. Or. Space.

“Fine. For science,” says Darcy.

She leans forward and kisses him.

It’s kind of nice. She hasn’t kissed anyone in a minute. He knows to put his hands on her side and the curve of her jaw gently, but firmly. There’s no awkward bashing of noses or messy gnashing of teeth. He knows to run his thumb along that spot under her ear. It’s a nice press of lips. He promised more than nice. He promised ‘accomplished’.

If she’s going for a test drive, she’s gonna try out all the gears.

So Darcy throws her leg over his to straddle his lap and presses down on his mouth. For a brief moment, Loki grins against her lips.

Then they’re really kissing.

There’s a jolt of electricity running through her veins when his lips move against hers purposefully with that push-pull to keep her interested. There’s a tightening in her belly when her hands clutch into his hair. There’s a gasping breath when his teeth run along her lower lip, tugging but not biting down. So he does know what he’s doing.

Darcy wonders at the back of her mind if she should probably stop. His hands have started migrating south. They’ve found a good rhythm. She doesn’t really want to stop. Somewhere between their mouths and hands and bodies, Darcy decides that he wasn't exaggerating. This feels pretty accomplished. He pulls her closer by her backside so her hips fit snug against his. She moans a bit. That is a good fit, even through the layers of her dress. Damn.

Jane’s disapproving face floats through Darcy’s mind. She would be mad if Darcy fucked Loki in the courtyard. That’s a good reason to stop.

Darcy lets him do what he wants with that Silvertongue for another minute because it kind of rocks her world. Then she eases back. Loki looks at her expectantly. He is nice to look at this close. He seems a lot more like a person she might want to know instead of the stranger-god he is. She wonders if this is just another one of his tricks. Maybe she doesn't care.

Darcy doesn’t get off his lap right away because she thinks it’s kind of funny to start an argument when she’s sitting on him.

“I guess now we know,” she says flippantly.

“Know…” Loki prompts.

“Know that someone taught you how to kiss. Kudos to them.”

“Kudos to them?" Loki sputters, "They're not here with an ungrateful mortal testing their patience. Kudos to me!”

Darcy laughs in his face, “I’m just messing with you, dude. How's my makeup?”

Loki groans in frustration and rubs a hand over his face. Darcy feels the sound of it in her ribcage.

"There's nothing amiss," mutters Loki, "You look as beautiful as ever, mule of a woman."

“I would be such a great punishment, I think,” agrees Darcy, “I could pull some good Earth pranks on you. Like a whoopie cushion. They’re classic.”

“You should know better than to try to trick a trickster,” says Loki.

“And you should know better than to talk about yourself in third person,” says Darcy.

Just then, she notices movement on the walkway beside the courtyard. It’s one of the handmaidens scurrying away. Loki notices too, frowning.

“Is that going to come around to bite me?” Darcy asks because Jane’s not around to tell her.

“Maybe,” says Loki, “The knife in the back of those who associate with me does not only come from my hand. You may have noticed I tend not to tout my allies around in full view.”

“Then why-”

“It’s almost midday,” says Loki, changing the subject before they can go in circles again. Darcy supposes it doesn’t matter why. She’s leaving as soon as Odin gives the all clear. If nothing else, Darcy knows in that hypothetical future, she and Loki would be chasing each other around conversations all day long.

Darcy looks up to check and nearly scalds her corneas. Right. The Asgard sun’s a little brighter than she’s used to.

“Sure as shit feels like midday,” she says through watering eyes, “I guess this is it. You’re going to go to prison today.”

“I’m going to escape prison today,” corrects Loki.

“I’ll probably be dead from a falling building or heart disease or something the next time you come cause problems on Earth, won’t I?” muses Darcy.

Loki looks at her with the same sorrowful look he’d given her last night as he lied about loving her, “Yes. Probably.”

“Too bad. I think we would have been great pen pals,” says Darcy, clambering off him and brushing off her dress.

She holds out her hand to Loki.

He takes it and she pulls him to his feet.

“Let’s go send you to prison.”

They walk out of the courtyard together. Loki knows the way.

As they walk side by side through the halls of the palace, everyone they pass on their way drops into low bows. It makes Darcy feel kind of weird, but she figures it’s the way things swing in Asgard. The classism that built these walls is probably than any Earth civilization. They enter the throne room, hall, place? Throne place. Jane and Thor are already there at the very front, speaking with Lady Sif. Odin sits on his throne all judgey. People milling about in the hall hush as Loki and Darcy walk by. There’s a lot more people in the great hall than there was for her riddles the first time. Darcy doesn’t know any of them, but what else is new. When they reach the front, Darcy and Loki both do very weak bows at the exact same time. The side of Odin’s mouth tilts down in a frown.

Loki’s guards hustle into formation around him and Darcy goes to stand with Jane.

“Are you okay?” Jane asks in a whisper.

Darcy nods, “Yeah, I’m ready to get outta here.”

Jane nods and wraps a protective arm around Darcy. It’s nice to have a friend.

“You look incredible, by the way,” murmurs Jane out of the side of her mouth.

Darcy glances sideways at Jane’s open backed top, red leather trousers, and heeled thigh high red boots. She’s got rubies hanging in a trail from her ears and glistening in her done up hair.

“You too, hot stuff.”

Jane gives Darcy a chiding look. Darcy shrugs.

Odin bangs his staff and the room falls silent.

“It is time to determine the punishment of Loki. Speak your riddle, girl.”

Darcy takes that as her cue. She looks at Loki, across the hall and between his guards. He looks back. It will be over before she knows it, she tells herself. They’re both getting what they want.

“What is my name?”

The crowd titters and Darcy assumes that some of them are trying to figure out who the hell she thinks she is. Oh well, not her fault they didn’t accidentally put themselves into a deadly marriage trial and somehow come out okay the other side. They probably have a lot more self-preservation than that.

If she had more self-preservation, she'd probably have known better than to come to Asgard in the first place. Loki opens his mouth to speak and the room collectively holds its breath.

“Your name,” says Loki, “is love.”

His voice nearly breaks over the word, like a cresting wave.

The sound of it makes Darcy’s heart stop.

Chapter Text

“Your name… is love.”

No way. No freaking way.

He can’t do this to her!

In a panic, Darcy leans over to Jane, “See! This douche canoe never bothered to remember my name. Let’s get out of here.”

Loki winces, but takes it without complaint. Jane gives her head a slow shake, eyes wide. Thor laughs along with Darcy, but it’s a different kind of laugh. Hollow. Darcy’s stomach drops.

“No, mortal,” Thor says, “He certainly did not forget.”

He didn’t forget. Which means he failed on purpose. And everyone watched him fail. Which means...

“Oh,” says Darcy, “Shit.”

Odin stands, “Let it be done. A binding will be held in Asgard on this day.”

“On this-?”

Darcy’s arms are grabbed before she can finish the sentence and she’s pulled away from Jane.

“Darcy!” calls Jane. Thor claps a hand on her shoulder to keep her from making chase.

Darcy struggles against what appear to be her super strong handmaidens in flowing chiffon.

“What the hell! Let me go!”

The one on the left shakes her head, “We must bring you quickly. The Allfather will be displeased if we delay.”

They drag her to the base of the throne dias. Loki gets to walk on his own.

Loki’s image warps and suddenly he has armor and shiny horns and a nice green cape. It’s so not fair.

“For the record,” Darcy says as her arm is bound to Loki by her handmaidens with some kind of golden twine, “I’m mad about this.”

“For the record,” says Loki, wincing as the ropes bind too tightly around their wrists, “This was the only way to resolve it. It would have been worse to be imprisoned and know that someone else knows I wanted you for myself. It doesn’t matter if I act on it anymore. Thor may be your friend, but he is not your protector. You’re exposed now.”

“What the hell are you talking about? No one was gonna find out and attack me for making out with you. That’s the dumbest shit I’ve heard. You narcissistic pri-”

“Let us begin,” Odin says, stepping up before their twined arms. The handmaidens bow and scurry away.

“Let us not,” snarks Darcy. The crowd titters again. Someone calls out for them to stop. It might have been Jane, but there’s a ringing getting louder in Darcy’s ears and she can’t tell. Odin doesn’t listen.

Odin instead says, “Mortal rejoice! Your life force shall be entangled with that of Loki Odinson’s. Forevermore.”

“Huh?” says Darcy.

“What?” says Loki.

Odin turns his eye to Loki, “Son rejoice! Your power shall be bound to Darcy Lewisdaughter. Forevermore.”

“Beg pardon?” says Loki.

“My dad’s name isn’t Lewis!” says Darcy.

Neither of them are rejoicing. Loki looks like he wants to run. Suddenly he’s not so proud of himself for ‘protecting’ her or whatever he thought he was doing. Darcy hopes he runs because she has no clue how to get out of this weird ass rope.

Odin closes his eyes and whispers some words Darcy can’t make out. Loki gives an experimental tug at the bindings. They don’t budge. They do dig into Darcy’s forearm.

“Watch it!” she hisses at him. Loki just hisses back.

“So it is done!” Odin announces.

Darcy and Loki look at each other dubiously. It can’t be over that quickly. There has to be ceremony and vows. There has to be time for them to escape. Where’d all that time go? Odin places his hand over their joined hands. There’s a rush of cold wind from nowhere that blows back Darcy’s hair. There’s a murmur in the crowd. It grows into a cheer. Odin lifts his hand away and the gold twine falls away, strangely rusted through. Loki looks at Odin like the old coot just read him his death sentence. Darcy breathes a sigh of relief and rubs some feeling back into her arm.

Her breath catches.

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very, wrong. It’s like the cells in her body start up a Mariachi band. They vibrate in place. They charge. They turn over. They change. Darcy closes her eyes against some strange brightness. Flash of gold. Flash of green. Nothing.

There’s arms around her. There’s a soft grunt of effort. Her feet leave the floor. There’s another flash of gold. It bounces around on the back of her eyelids. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. Nothing.

There’s another breeze against her cheek, warmer this time. She shivers in someone’s arms. They’re nice arms. She’s been here before.

Darcy experiences the singular sensation of being dropped unceremoniously onto a couch.

Rude.

She groans. Hopefully she won’t need another round of Lasix after all that bright flashing. Her glasses days were supposed to be behind her. She doesn’t bet on it, though. Her luck has been particularly shitty these days. Maybe if she lies perfectly still, she’ll wake up back home in her room. On Earth.

The panic rises in her again. This never would have happened if she had a cape. Like that Strange guy. Very helpful cape. Maybe if she doesn’t die right now, she can ask Thor to ask him to borrow it. She wouldn’t give it back.

Feeling the sense of imminent doom start to fade. The feeling of fire in her blood simmers out. Darcy experimentally cracks an eyeball open.

Huh.

She has no idea where this is. It’s a room, larger than her own, with high vaulted ceilings and furniture for sitting only. Loki sits on an ornate armchair reading a book. Except. There’s a transparent quality to him. See-through.

A cabinet goes flying out the window.

The real Loki is throwing a temper tantrum, complete with stomping and hair pulling. Darcy rolls onto her back because she doesn’t really care what he’s doing as long as he’s doing it all the way over there.

“You know you probably just hit some people with a cabinet,” Darcy says to the ceiling, “Classy.”

“It takes more than furniture to kill an Asgard- Wait. You can see me?”

Darcy thinks the ceiling should get a good dusting, there’s at least twelve cobweb colonies high in the rafters.

“Yeah,” Darcy says dejectedly, “You’re being a toddler.”

“Well pardon me for being a little bit upset that my father failed to mention the terms of my punishment,” Loki is standing over her all of the sudden. Darcy is kind of sick of him right now. He was better when he was kissing. Quieter at least.

“We’re not actually married, are we? Like this whole thing isn’t about marriage at all,” Darcy says and Loki shakes his head tersely, “He just wanted to take your powers without saying that he was taking your powers. Trick you into hitching your wagon to a horse he liked better by pretending the right of brides thing was about marriage so you wouldn't run until the time came? We kinda played into his hands with all the feelings. Unless you were lying again. If you were, you deserve this.”

Darcy watches Loki approach lift-off, this time too close to her. She kind of wishes he was a mouse so he could know what it feels like to be just as small as everyone else in the universe.

Loki transforms into a mouse.

The mouse lands on her stomach. Darcy blinks at it. It blinks at her. It’s dark brown and kinda cute.

Then it starts squeaking angrily and running across her belly towards her face. Darcy decides she’d rather be dealing with a person than a rodent.

The mouse transforms into Loki.

Loki falls off the couch onto the floor with a heavy thud. He lies there, staring at the ceiling disbelievingly. Darcy decides that looks pleasant and she goes back to staring at the ceiling too.

“You transformed me into a mouse,” says Loki.

“Yeah,” says Darcy.

“Shit,” says Loki. He looks up at her.

“Yeah,” says Darcy. She looks down at him.

They both seem to realize how well and truly fucked they are at the exact same time.

They both go back to staring at the ceiling.

The thorns and metal petals on the shoulders of Darcy’s dress press up on her skin uncomfortably. She focuses on that. A little ouch is easier to comprehend than the other thing. A few pokey bits are better than the power she can feel rearranging under her skin. It’s a restless thing, this power, always moving like the surface of the ocean. Not that she’s thinking about it. She’s thinking about the impracticality of a dress she can’t lie down in.

Hot tears trickle out of the corners of her eyes and down her temples. Why’d they give her such a big dumb dress? She doesn’t want a big dumb dress. She wants to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

A sob builds in under her sternum. Great. She’s gonna have a meltdown and the only one around is the one who put her here. No sympathetic audience, not even Lady Sif with a hanky. Fucking fantastic.

She can feel Loki looking at her again. It’s annoying. She wants to disappear altogether.

There’s that buzzing feeling under her skin again. Darcy lifts her hand… and stares. Her hand has this translucent quality to it, just like the image of Loki reading in the chair on the other side of the room. She sits up. Some of the tears run down her cheeks with the movement. Her whole body down to the spread of her skirt has gone see-through.

“Excellent,” Loki says sarcastically, “The mortal can phase.”

Darcy feels something snap. It's the last straw. She jumps up and puts a foot on his chest, applying pressure with every word, “Call me mortal one more time and I’ll turn you into an ant and squash you, you son of a bitch.”

“I never knew my mother,” mentions Loki. He looks too comfortable lying there under her.

“AGH!” Darcy screams and stomps away from him until she feels like she’s not swimming in his words as much. Then she whirls back to face him, “Shut up! Don’t lie there and… lie! Just. Shut! UP!”

Two knives appear in Darcy’s hands. She doesn’t remember asking for them. They’re just. There. Loki pushes himself up on his elbows and feels down the side of his leg to some kind of empty holster thing. His eyes widen on the space above her head.

“Darcy,” he says cautiously, “please give me back my knives.”

Darcy turns them over in her hands. They feel better than any kitchen knives she’s had, not that she knows how to use them. There’s a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye. She turns. And gasps.

It’s an enemy, some Asgardian warrior come to kill her.

For a second she thinks she’s dead.

But it’s not some space demon out for blood. It’s her. It’s her with a dress like an oil slick and golden thorns seeming to grow from her skin and knives in her hands and two golden horns curving high above her head. It’s the horns Loki wore when he attacked Earth. He’s not wearing them anymore.

Darcy feels sick. She's not some god or monster or space warrior lady. She's just Darcy, super cool human chick. She doesn't want to be anything more. She closes her eyes and wishes to be home. Maybe in her apartment, complaining to Jane and Dr. Selvig about the boys in London. It would be sunny and springtime even though it’s not usually those things in London. But screw it. This is her imagination escape, it can be springtime if she wants it to be. There’s that buzzing under her skin again. Something flashes bright against the back of her eyelids.

She opens her eyes. She’s not in her London flat. She’s on the balcony of Loki’s. There’s a looseness around her ribcage. Darcy realizes she’s wearing one of her softer black long sleeves from home, her favourite pair of jeans which make her ass look great, and her city sneakers she’d bought when she moved to London. How in the hell-?

“Darcy, darling, please. Just stop before you hurt yourself,” says Loki from his pose on the floor back inside the room. He says it casually, like he doesn’t care, but a line of steel in his tone betrays him.

“Did I just teleport?” Darcy wonders aloud, “Because that’s nuts. Freaky. And nuts.”

There’s another buzz under her skin. But it’s not her who’s doing the wishing. Loki appears beside her with a flash of gold and she jumps, “It’s not entirely teleporting.”

“Dude!” Darcy, “I'm gonna taze you the next time you do that.”

“It only works a short distance, one that you can see. Same with the illusions. It seems you’ve got a bit more than you bargained for,” says Loki. Darcy realizes she doesn't even have her taser. It went wherever the dress went. The thought of it hurts her head.

“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock,” mutters Darcy, “And I didn’t bargain at all, remember. We had an agreement. You went back on it.”

“We had no such thing,” insists Loki, “We spoke about you leaving and me going to prison. Then I decided I didn’t want to leave you alone with my enemies searching for a chink in my armour.”

“So what if I get got by a space bad guy laser instead of the falling building or the heart disease I might get otherwise. What’s it to you?”

“I am beginning to care a great deal about what happens to you,” Loki says. It sounds like the truth. It sounds like the name he called her in the throne room. Love.

Darcy laughs spitefully, “You always have the right words at the wrong time, don’t you. Someone who cares about me wouldn’t have stuck me with these abilities I shouldn’t have. Someone who cares about me would have let me go about my boring little mortal life as far away from you as possible!”

A look of hurt crosses Loki’s face. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared. Darcy sees it though and it makes her pause her tirade. She didn’t think he could get hurt like that. She thought he’d have thicker skin.

“You don’t get someone. You get me,” snarls Loki, “And I don’t want to share my power or my immortality-”

“Hold up, immortality?”

“-with anyone. But I don’t get anyone. I get you. I won’t apologize anymore and it can’t be undone.”

They’re both breathing hard and standing a little too close together. Darcy takes a step back. The buzz under her skin pulls at her as if begging her to get closer than before. She wonders if he feels it too.

“This is a lot to handle," Darcy states, "I’m amazing, I can handle a lot. But this might be too much. I just… I need to understand exactly what Odin did to us. Am I cursed or something?"

She looks away with the waver in her voice and notices that the heads have been removed from the rainbow bridge. They had been there yesterday, hundreds of warning signs she ignored. Now it's all cleaned away as if they were never there at all. As if the deaths don't mean anything at all now that Odin has his way. Asgard is a complicated place.

“You might be. I know I am,” says Loki, “I can sense that my power is split and bound. There’s a limit where there wasn’t before. Not a limit. A leash. I’d imagine I could follow that leash to your hand. More tests then?”

A blush rises in Darcy’s cheek as the memory of their last experiment pops into her head. She forgets about Odin and the dead suitors so fast it's no wonder she ended up here. Loki grins cockily like he knows exactly what she's thinking about. Darcy gives him a glare and clears her throat, “Sure. We know I can see through your magic show, steal your shit, and turn you into a mouse. Can you turn me into a mouse?”

Loki focuses intently on her face. The warm breeze blows between them. Darcy doesn’t feel anything in the buzz under her skin. Loki becomes visibly frustrated. He raises a hand towards her. It’s a nice hand. There’s a tremor in it.

“No,” says Loki after a moment, letting his hand fall uselessly to his side, “I cannot turn you into a mouse.”

“Well I’ll be damned,” Darcy says, “You can’t turn me into a mouse. Let’s see what else you can’t do.”

Loki gives her a sharp look, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“It’s fun to watch you squirm. What about you try to do something and I try to stop you?”

Loki considers it for a moment. Then there’s a vibration under her skin. It’s like she can feel him gearing up. Loki flashes gold. Darcy reaches for that feeling, the energy of Loki. She pulls back on it hard. Loki rematerializes in front of her. He has the most hilarious look of complete shock on his face.

Darcy laughs and whacks him on the shoulder, “Leash is right, ha! You can’t do anything without me knowing. And you can’t kill me either,” everything becomes abruptly unfunny, “Because my life force is tied to yours and I won’t die until you do.”

“It would appear so, yes,” says Loki. Her hand is still on his shoulder.

Darcy feels the tears coming up again. Jesus, what was she, a one woman rollercoaster? The situation probably warrants it. She wants Jane to be here. Then she immediately has to stop the thought from dipping into that new reserve of energy. Which makes her want to cry more. Who knows if she could actually conjure Jane?

Loki knows.

Darcy gives her hand on his shoulder careful consideration. Loki lets her, uncharacteristically patient. Darcy knows that Jane isn’t here. Jane’s surely got a whole whack of intergalactic problems to solve that Darcy won't even find out about until weeks later. Janes's not here and she can't do much about the situation anyway. Darcy got herself into this. Darcy can deal with it.

“Okay,” says Darcy, “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ve had it up to here with all of this and I’m either going to have another meltdown or push you off this building. Which would be bad for the people you land on down there. So. I’m going to hug you and cry a lot and try to process how long we’re both going to live like this, and you’re going to stand there with your mouth shut until I’m done. Got it?”

Loki zips his lips and throws away the key. It’s such a distinctly Earth-y thing to do that it throws Darcy off. There’s so much about him that she’ll never understand. But he’s here and he’s waiting for her to decide what to do with him and for now that’s enough. Darcy throws her arms around his shoulders and tucks her chin into the crook of his neck. He smells nice. Not like metal and evil thoughts, but like fresh cut stems and some spice she can't name.

The tears come instantly. They'd been waiting at the surface.

To his credit, Loki says nothing. He simply wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on the top of her head while she cries. Someone taught him how to hug and it definitely was a different person from the one who taught him to kiss. She bets it was Thor. It’s a solid hug. Darcy feels a bit bad for getting tears and snot on his nice gear, but it’ll probably come out in the Asgardian wash.

They stand there for a long time. It’s long enough for Darcy to realize that she can love him and hate him at the same time. She doesn’t need to pick one to feel if she has space enough for both. It’s long enough for her to see that she hasn’t lost everything. She might have some new tricks, and maybe a new responsibility, but nothing else about her life needs to change. She can live on Earth and she can help Jane finish her work. She isn’t technically married, she doesn’t need to be held captive somewhere she doesn’t want to be. She can protect herself from Loki’s enemies and she can protect Earth from Loki. Even if her future isn’t full of picket fences and settling, it’s full of choices she can make for herself. Who ever wanted to settle anyway?

They stand there long enough for her tears to dry.

She steps back and tugs her shirt back into place. They don’t look at each other.

“Thanks,” says Darcy.

“Of course,” says Loki.

“I’m gonna go find Jane,” announces Darcy.

“Are you leaving? Asgard I mean.”

“Yeah. It's the funniest thing, the wedding we came here for turned out to be only three minutes long," neither of them laugh, "Anyway, Jane's gotta get back to her work and Thor's usually due to save the world around this time. If Odin lets us go. And probably even if he doesn’t. Do you want to come?”

“Oh. No," Loki shakes his head, almost sad. Almost. "I don't think so. Asgard is where I belong and thanks to you fulfilling my punishment, I will be welcomed back into the fold. People who live forever tend to be quite forgiving with people who live forever. You go live how you want to, Darcy. It's for the better. You will know if you're needed to rein me in again. If you're lucky, you'll be far enough away that I can't drag you back into this mess by accident.”

“Don’t I have your luck now that I have your power?”

“I sincerely hope not. I’ve grown fond of you.”

“I know. You won’t stop talking about it.”

“It’s new," Loki says defensively, "I’ve never been this fond of a… person from Earth before.”

“Nice catch.”

“I’m learning.”

“I’ll see you later, Loki.”

“Goodbye, Darcy.”

Darcy walks out. Every new cell in her body screams at her to turn around. There’s a heaviness in her chest that she can’t name. Doesn’t want to name. Because then she’ll turn back and fall back into his arms. She’ll ask to see what his version of forever looked like if she stays. If she turns around.

She doesn’t.

Chapter Text

Nine Months Later

Darcy pulls an almost legal right turn through the intersection. No one honks at her and that makes it legal in her mind. She steps down on the accelerator, hard. A cyclist swerves out of the way and flips her off. She waves apologetically.

There’s a buzz and a golden flash. Darcy screeches left through a yellow.

“The light over there indicates that the tank is empty.”

Darcy rolls her eyes, “And if I wanted your opinion on that, I would ask. Now sit quietly or vamoose.”

“Just making an observation,” says Loki from the passenger seat.

If Darcy had time to take her eyes off the road, she’d see him sitting next to her with that translucent appearance rubbing in the fact that he’s not really here. Darcy does not have the time to look at him. She honks at some pedestrians stepping out. The crosswalk is no man's land in her personal opinion. Especially when she’s being chased by the cops.

Loki shows up like this once in a while. He’s got uncanny timing. Every time she’s about to make what could be objectively called a bad decision, he’s popping up and saying something aggravating enough to distract her from whatever she was about to do. Just last week he appeared just as she was about to order ‘Hellfire Hot’ wings instead of the medium hot that she knows she liked better. He saved her $20 but she paid for it in a fifteen minute discussion on why she was ordering chicken wings at 3am. It was because she wanted chicken wings and it was 3am, there wasn’t much to explain. However, the two of them were great at turning any little detail into a hostile environment.

The only reason she knows Loki can't read her mind is that he doesn't show up every time she's thinking about him. She knows he'd get a kick out of how often it was and he'd definitely come to gloat if he knew. He shows up often enough anyway. It makes Darcy wonder if he has anything better to do than project himself across the universe just to bug her. A total pest, good looking, but still. Pest.

As they predicted back in Asgard, she can feel every little thing he uses his power for, even from her spot in London. He uses it for nearly everything. She’s got really good at ignoring the hum under her skin every time he changes his outfit or plays a prank on the Warriors Three. Thankfully, she’s only had to stay his hand once or twice. She once stopped Loki from convincing Thor to take him flying then turning into a dragon to eat him. It would have ended up worse for Loki anyway. Loki and Thor ended up going for a nice brotherly fly instead. He complained about it at length the next time he appeared, right before she was about to drunk text her ex, but she could tell he had a good time not eating his brother.

“Where are we going?” Loki asks as if he’s on some field trip.

“I just love how much you respect boundaries,” drawls Darcy sarcastically as she takes a back alley shortcut and scrapes the bottom of the car on a speed bump, “It really gets my goat when I tell you to shut up so I can concentrate on not crashing and then you don’t.”

Loki brushes off his lapels, “I could get you a goat. There are a great many goats in the high meadows of Asgard.”

“Ugh,” groans Darcy. She cranks the steering wheel one way and then the other to avoid a delivery truck. Loki doesn’t sway in his seat like an actual passenger would. “I’m running from the cops. Jane may or may not have got her equipment confiscated by SHIELD again and I may or may not have liberated it. Surprised you didn’t show up earlier.”

Loki smiles at her with a light in his eyes, “Oh, I felt you phase to steal the boxes. I just didn’t want to interrupt a theft in progress. It’s poor manners.”

There’s a flashing blue light coming from the rearview mirror. There’s a van blocking the exit of the alley up ahead. Darcy frantically turns into a multi-level parking garage. The tires squeal over the cement.

“And you thought NOW was the time to interrupt?!”

“I thought now you might appreciate some assistance.”

Darcy drives up through the levels of the parkade. It was a bad choice because there’s nowhere to go once she gets to the top. Fuck. She’s too pretty to get arrested again.

“Assist?” Darcy demands, “Now.”

There’s another screech of tires somewhere below them. And then another. Double fuck.

She can tell Loki’s doing the thing where he basks in the moment of having something she wants. It’s annoying and kind of hot, but right now mostly annoying.

“What will you give me for some help evading your pursuers?” Loki teases out every word. Darcy goes up two levels in the parkade while he’s talking. There aren’t as many cars up here. There’s nowhere to hide.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you want, just fucking do something!”

Darcy can sense in the back of her mind that it was a very dumb thing to say to a notorious scammer. Still, she would rather get deeper in the shit with Loki than start a new relationship with the UK penitentiary system. The devil you know, right?

“Excellent,” says Loki, “Stop the car on the side.”

Darcy pulls into one of the empty spots, “This is gonna get me shot. I’m so haunting your ass if I die.”

“You won’t die until I do and I am averse to dying. Now close your eyes,” instructs Loki.

Darcy looks at him like he’s grown another head, which would make more sense than her closing her eyes right now.

“You’re kidding. You are fucking kidding me right now.”

“You can keep driving or you can let me help you,” says Loki, “It’s entirely your choice.”

“Fuck you,” says Darcy and she closes her eyes. The screeching of tires are getting louder from below.

“No,” says Loki, “Now you need to focus. Feel the current of energy in your body,” Darcy feels it, that restless buzzing, “Push it out of yourself, surround the vehicle,” he says the word all proper and it makes Darcy almost laugh but she keeps it together enough to try to push that restless hum out, “Good. Now phase the vehicle.”

“Phase the vehicle?”

“Phase the vehicle.”

Darcy can feel the buzz getting stronger. She feels it extend beyond the glass of the windows. It’s heavy like this, as if it could snap back into place at any moment. She wishes the car invisible.

Just as the first police car rounds the corner, Darcy opens her eyes. It worked. The car, Loki, and herself share that hazy glossy nothingness. That first police car whips behind them, blue lights flashing. The next one goes by, then the next one.

Darcy holds her breath, straining to hold the phase with her hands still on the wheel. Her translucent knuckles turn white. Loki is blissfully silent.

The police cars do a loop on the top level, then come back down one by one. Darcy lets out a breath as she hears them squeal away. The energy snaps back into her with a zing.

“Ow,” Darcy rubs a hand over her chest.

“You should practice more,” says Loki.

Darcy holds up a hand to stop him, “Hold it. Before you weasel into the whole teacher-student dynamic with me, you should know I’ll find you 30% less attractive if you start trying to be an authority figure. It’s a proven fact.”

Loki frowns, “In that case, I'll quit while I’m on head.”

“Sure, buddy,” says Darcy, altogether less stressed out than when she was running from the cops on her own, “Quit while you’re on head.”

“Now about my payment,” Loki says.

Darcy frowns, “Wait, no. I helped myself just then. You didn’t do shit. You’re still in space.”

“Another realm isn’t space. It’s just another realm like this one.”

“In space.”

“Everything’s in space to some degree.”

“Hate that. Take it back.”

“I will do no such thing. And I did help. You evaded your pursuers due to my counsel. That is helping. Now for my payment.”

“Ugh, fine. But it better not be something weird or long. I have to get all this tech stuff back to Jane’s lab.”

“I was thinking of our discussion in the courtyard. I remember you saying some very curious things about the man you were going to ‘settle’ with.”

“Yeah,” says Darcy, “I was there. I’ve changed my mind about the whole house and kids thing. Not really gonna mesh with the whole immortality situation.”

“I think, in payment for services rendered, we attempt another-”

“Why do I not like the way this is going?”

“- test.”

“Oh," Darcy says bluntly," So like make out for a bit? Yeah that’s fine. See you in a hundred years or so.”

Loki reaches behind him and pulls an object out of nothing. It takes Darcy a second to place it as Loki flips it in the air and catches it again. It’s the book she’s reading right now, the one that lives on her bedside table. She inhales sharply.

“I think you’ll find,” says Loki, “You’ll be seeing me much sooner.”

There’s a surge in her veins and Loki flashes out of her view. It's silent in the car, except for the low rumbling of the motor and Darcy's pounding heart.

Darcy puts the car in gear and drives.

One tense and busy hour later, delivering the equipment and arguing with Jane that SHIELD are going to keep doing this every time Jane so much as tweets a hot take on the colour of the sky, Darcy opens her front door.

“Honey, I’m home.”

She drops the keys in the dish and kicks off her shoes, locking the door behind her.

“Did you have a good day at work, darling?”

Even though Darcy half-expects him, she still jumps a bit when Loki comes sauntering around the corner into her living room. He only ever could scare her in person.

They stare at each other for a second. It’s a quick second. A second just long enough for Darcy to notice he’s wearing regular clothes with a dark green cashmere sweater and black jeans. It’s funny that he’s here and looking just as real and steady as the seamsters tried to make her look on Asgard. It’s a good illusion, more solid than one of her own.

A second just long enough for her to realize that even though they bickered all the time, she missed him.

Loki grins. Darcy grins back.

She takes two steps and jumps at him. For an instant she wonders if he’s not actually here and she’s going to faceplant. But then he catches her with a huff. Her arms are around his neck and her feet sweep off the floor.

She kisses him because she wants to, not because he has to talk her into it. It's better without all that talking.

The kiss is hard and fast. It’s nine months of impatience. Her legs wrap around his hips because they're already half-way there. One of his hands comes under her thigh to pull her closer. It’s a good fit. Darcy smiles against his mouth then gets back to the kissing.

He lets her take over, only to push back just as hard. He must know that she wants him, because how could he not at this point. But there’s something in the way that he’s greedy with his hands. There's something in the way he backs her against the wall so they can get a bit closer and go a bit deeper. Something that tells Darcy that he might want her more. That's a good foundation for anything.

There’s banging at the door. Darcy and Loki freeze.

“London Police, open up!”

Darcy detaches herself from Loki and he sets her down gently.

“Do you want to hide in the bathroom while I handle this?" asks Darcy.

Loki narrows his eyes at the door, “Allow me.”

“Don’t kill them,” warns Darcy as they approach the door, “I’ll have to move again and it’ll be so annoying.”

“Fine,” concedes Loki, “I won’t kill them.”

A good enough response for the time being. Darcy unlocks the door and stands behind it as it swings. The buzz of Loki’s power sizzles under her skin as he puts on a new face.

“Y’alright?” says Loki in a higher nasally voice. Darcy has to put a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. She’s sure it’s convincing to a stranger, but good god it is so obvious. And Darcy knows none of the gods are good.

“Yeah,” one of the officers says, “We’re looking for a Darcy Lewis, she around?”

“No, mate, sorry. No one lives here with that name. I just settled meself in last Sunday. There was a bird movin’ out, though. She said she’s off to Brighton for the air. You imagine that? She left her telly though, so I can’t grouse.”

“Thanks,” says one of the officers, “You let us know if you remember anything else, yeah?”

There’s a sound of ripping paper

“Sure. Cheers.”

Loki shuts the door. The face of a middle-aged nobody slides off him like water. He lets the slip of paper fall to the floor.

They wait a minute, just looking at each other, trying not to laugh. Darcy breaks first.

"I can't believe you just said every British cliche developed since 1980 and they just left. I- No, I don't even have anything else to say. Wow.”

Loki shrugs mirthfully, “I saw one of those programs in the Avengers holding cell, Coronation Street it was called if I remember.”

Darcy wheezes, leaning over with her hands on her thighs, “Classic, absolutely classic.”

Loki spreads his hands in a self-congratulatory gesture. It’s very him.

After she gets ahold of herself again, Darcy walks past him onto her tiny balcony to make sure the cop cars aren’t waiting out front. She ditched her car a neighbourhood over so hopefully they won't come looking for her here again. Loki comes out beside her and leans his elbows on the railing. Another balcony, another world. It makes her wonder how many more balconies they’ll share like this. Probably a number too big to think about and keep her cool.

“What are you doing here, really?”

Loki shrugs, “I wanted to try something new. Test it out, see if it takes.”

“You came all the way to Earth, conveniently when Jane’s atmospheric scanning equipment got taken, just to make out with me? You shouldn’t have. Really.”

“That wasn’t the test I was referring to. I was just going to say hello when I got here, but you were just so enthusiastic,” says Loki with a smirk. Darcy whacks him on the arm and he cowers in mock injury.

“Good to know you’re still as much of a dick in person.”

“Would you still want me if I were any less than what I am?”

Darcy glares at him, a flush in her cheeks, “No… probably not.”

“I missed you, too. Your yearning heart pulled me across the universe.”

“Good one. Do you want to at least try the truth?”

“Fine,” Loki sighs, “I need to lay low for a bit. Asgard may or may not have added some Kylosian artefacts to the royal collection and I may or may not have procured them. It was a perfect opportunity to visit my favourite penalty.”

“Oh you just say the sweetest things.”

“Do you want me to say sweet things? I’m quite well versed. Darcy, my love, your beauty is more pure than a-”

“No thanks,” Darcy cuts him off, “And don’t call my beauty pure. It feels colonial or some shit.”

Loki's unbothered, “I did not entirely lie. I did want to see you.”

“I can't imagine why. I couldn’t cut you off if I tried and sometimes you’re so annoying that I try.”

Loki smiles sheepishly, “It's simple enough, I've come to enjoy your company and I like seeing your face without the illusion in the way. I did not anticipate that my punishment would be yours as well.”

“Eh, you totally did, to some degree. You just didn’t realize I’d get your power too.”

“You don’t use it enough, now that you have it,” observes Loki. His voice carries a bit of concern which makes Darcy both endeared and irritated, “I can feel when you do and it’s only when Jane Foster is in danger. Or yourself. Sometimes not even then.”

Darcy shrugs, “I know a few million people that wouldn’t be so keen on another version of you kicking around. I’d rather have to walk than teleport if it means I don’t get locked up for good.”

“You would escape. My power was crafted for diversion. But I suppose this is my fault too, isn’t it.”

“Yup. But you’re on my turf now, so you’re going to play by my rules or we'll have a smackdown and I'll totally kick your ass.”

“I don't doubt that. You want me to stay?”

“Did you not just say you needed to lay low for a bit? You’re my friend so you can stay. I have a double bed or, if you snore and keep me up, I have a shitty couch. Between the two of us we can avoid the cops and the Kylosians and SHIELD and whoever else is after us. Try that whole ‘working out’ thing we talked about. That's what you wanted to test, right? That's really why you came all this way," Loki nods slowly, as if surprised she made the connection. As if it's that hard. The ego on this guy. "Jane’s gonna blow her lid over this though, so just don’t antagonize her and we'll be fine.”

“You consider me your friend? Even after all I've done?”

Darcy rolls her eyes, “My tongue was just down your throat about ten minutes ago so I would assume that we might be just a little bit more than friends, but yeah. Pen pals, remember? The ‘friends’ part is right in the name. Now don’t get all weird about it or I am really gonna kick you out.”

“With the clothes out the window and yelling for the neighbours?”

“Yeah, the whole nine yards.”

“I’m flattered.”

Loki looks out at the grey city with a weird smile on his mouth. It’s not a schemy smile and not a snide grin. He just looks… happy. Darcy smiles too. It’s good to have him here with her, even if she knows he’s going to be more trouble than he’s worth. She likes that about him anyway.

“Hi flattered, I’m Darcy.”