Chapter Text
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She ached everywhere. Her whole body. It was as if she could acutely feel the pain in each and every individual muscle, tendon, and ligament. But she also felt soothed by her surroundings, even with her eyes still shut as she slowly entered the waking world. She was wrapped in soft and smooth bedding, different from the textures she’d slept on these past few months.
For a moment, she thought her time in medieval Norway might have just been a very vivid dream and nightmare all wrapped into one. But then she thought, whose bed was she in because she has never had bedding that felt this nice? As she stirred, something tightened around her waist and she realized she was being held. And all around her, it smelled like mint and leather and a hint of pine.
Her brain made the connection and she opened her eyes expecting to see the rough log walls of the cabin that had been her home for weeks. Instead, she saw shelves crammed full of ancient-looking books.
So this was where he got all his books , she thought.
The walls and woodwork all around the books were brightly and intricately hand-painted. Her eyes traced the swirling floral patterns that ran along the logs. She saw serpents and wolves among the flowers and plants that stretched up and all across the ceiling as she turned from her side onto her back.
“How are you feeling?” She heard a now soothingly familiar voice ask in a low breathy tone, a hint of concern laced through.
“Mmmm,” she responded as she tried to adjust herself into a more comfortable position, aches emanating from every inch of her body. She was trying to wrap her head around everything that had happened in her recent memory, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Loki made sense. But everything else she needed to process.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her fingers to one temple and rubbed, trying to alleviate the pounding.
“Here. Let me,” he said softly as he propped himself up and touched his fingers to her temples. She felt the air around her head quiver and in moments the pain was gone.
“Whoa, that was cool. Can you do that to my whole body?”
“Your entire body is in pain?” A concerned expression on his face.
“Um, yes,” she said as she gently shifted her body to verify that pain was emanating from every angle, wincing all along the way.
“Where does it hurt most?” He asked, now sitting straight up, hands seemingly at the read to fix her.
“Everywhere.” She honestly couldn’t tell what was causing the most pain.
“Well, then tell me where it doesn’t hurt?”
Realizing she was having her own Indiana Jones moment, she smiled and placed her finger to her lips.
He tilted his head as he looked at her, a smile slowly appearing to match her own. Keeping her gaze, he slowly leaned in and placed his lips on hers. And even though her lips were not in pain, his kiss sent waves of soothing calm through her. When he pulled away she kept her eyes closed and let out a sigh. His weight shifted and disappeared from the bed.
“Loki?” She called as she opened her eyes. He was across the room in what looked like some sort of kitchen meets science lab meets rustic Norwegian cabin. His back was to her, his arms moving methodically.
“One moment,” he responded. In a flash of green haze and shimmering air, he was standing beside her with a small ceramic jar.
“Ooo, is that the healy-lotion stuff you had me put on you?” He nodded. “Does that work on Earthlings, er, Midgardians?”
With a flick of his fingers, the blankets were thrown back from her feet. He moved to the foot of the bed, scooped a generous amount of the lotion into his hands, and began to apply pressure to her ankle. Normally, Darcy would find a massage soothing but this was next level. Whatever he was doing with his magic made the massage seep deeper into her muscles and tissue, leaving behind not a trace of sore muscles or tendons or anything for that matter.
And then there was the fact that she was receiving this massage from her husband who sent sparks and tingles through her body every time they touched in general. As his hands worked their way up her legs, his ministrations went from healing and soothing to arousing and sensual. She wasn’t sure when she started moaning but her sounds were definitely of the salacious variety.
“If you continue as you are, I am uncertain how much longer this treatment will remain purely medicinal,” Loki said, a devilish curl to his lips.
Between his touch and whatever soothing magic he was using and the damn sexy smile, she thought she might just lose it right then.
And in the next moment, she was pulled right out of it by a thunderous knock on the door. Old instincts kicked in as she grabbed the blankets to cover her body. Loki, meanwhile, sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Brother!” She heard Thor call from the other side of the door. Another thunderous knock on the door.
“I don’t hear anything. Do you hear something?” Darcy said, hoping Loki would play along and continue his treatment.
Loki flashed her a wicked smile as he climbed onto the bed between her legs. He leaned down and placed kisses on her knee.
“Loki, brother. How fares your lady wife?” Thor asked insistently. “Is she well? Was she injured? Are you injured?”
“He isn’t gonna go away is he?” Darcy asked.
“I fear not,” Loki conceded. He crawled forward and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. When she opened her eyes, he was no longer in the room.
She sat up holding the bedding to her chest, scanning the room for something resembling clothes.
Well, opaque clothes , she thought as she looked down at the sheer soft muslin-like gown she was wearing. It was nicer fabric than anything she had felt in all her time in the past. Loki must have gotten it, maybe from China. She remembered that silk weaving had been a thing for thousands of years in China so they must have had the skills to make something this fine. But when would Loki have been to China? Maybe it wasn’t from Earth at all.
Her thoughts wandered as she put aside the bedding and braced herself to step on the cold floor, only to be pleasantly surprised at the warmth of the wood beneath her feet.
“Magic heated floors, of course,” she said to herself.
Looking up from her toes, she saw some sort of garment laid out over the chair in front of her. Stepping over to it, she lifted the jade fabric and slipped it on. She sauntered over to a flat yet undulating pane of glass across the room to look at herself. She hadn’t seen her entire body in a mirror in months. The dark shadows under her eyes made her look like death and she felt like it. But her hair was a soft cascade of auburn waves with a healthy shine even the best of shampoos had never produced. It was even brighter against the jade-green robe.
“Green,” Darcy huffed with a smile.
And then she noticed it. A cut across the center of her neck, already scabbed over. It all came flashing back in her mind’s eye. The feel of the blade on her skin. The feel of her blade piercing his skin. Tearing through his flesh. The warmth of the blood engulfing her hands, splashing up on her arms and her face. Blood gurgling out of his mouth and onto his face. His dead eyes looking up at her. His dead fucking eyes.
When she saw herself in the mirror again, she watched as blood dripped from her cut, freshly opened. She reached her hands up to stop the bleeding but it just made the flow heavier as it covered her hands and arms, dripping down her chest, soaking into the jade fabric. She crouched onto the floor, frantically scrubbing at her hands trying to wash off the blood somehow. When she looked back in the mirror, she no longer saw herself. Instead, the cold dead eyes of the man she killed looked back at her.
His mouth opened and as the blood dripped out, a blood-curdling scream came with it. She put her hands to her ears and he did the same. She closed her eyes tight and curled herself into a tight ball on the ground.
“Darcy!” She heard Loki call for her, seemingly off in the distance.
She felt his arms wrap around her and lift her off the ground moving her to the bed. He curled around her. The hushed sound of his voice and the smell of him soothed her frantically beating heart and pulsing pain in her temples.
After a few minutes, she found herself calmed, opened her eyes, and uncurled from the tight fetal position she’d been locked into. With nervous shaking, she held her hands before her eyes. All she saw was the pale peach skin and uneven fingernails. She turned her body to face Loki.
“Is there any blood on me?” She asked hesitantly, slightly afraid to tell him what she had just seen for fear of sounding crazy.
“No. We washed it all off last night,” he answered softly. He stroked his fingers through her hair. Then he whispered softly. “Are you seeing things?”
She nodded.
He sighed and touched his forehead to hers. It was a gesture that told her he knew something of what she was experiencing.
“You have been through an array of traumatic experiences in a short period of time. Your mind is struggling to process it all,” he explained.
“Will this keep happening?” She asked, fairly certain she already knew the answer.
“It likely will happen again,” he said as he framed his hands around her face and met her eyes. “And I will be here with you, for you, when it does.”
Feeling overwhelmed by the deep affection and adoration Loki was displaying toward her, she met his lips with her own in a crushing kiss.
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“Helga, I really don’t feel like eating in the hall tonight.” Darcy was trying her damndest to deflect her friend’s insistence on her and Loki going to the grand longhouse tonight. She was not in the mood to see or talk to anyone outside of her little circle. Not in the mood to be fake with a bunch of strangers. Not in the mood to be stared at. She was just starving and wanted to feast on whatever she and Loki could throw together in their cabin.
“Lagertha was quite insistent,” Helga looked at her with pleading eyes.
Darcy let out a deep breath. How could she say no to that sweet kind face?
“Okay,” she answered.
An apologetic smile popped onto Helga’s face.
“I guess we do have to eat and the food Ragnar serves is far better and more bountiful than anything I can scrounge up here,” Darcy admitted. “Just to eat. And then we leave.”
Continuing to beam a smile at her, Helga placed her hands around Darcy’s and squeezed.
Later in the day as the sun began to set, Darcy was relieved to find garments laid out for her in Loki’s chambers and his insistence that he assist in dressing her.
AKA wiggled his fingers and magic’d the lacing tight. She had the feeling he could tell she was uncomfortable with being dressed by someone else and that with him, it was different.
They walked up the dirt and gravel path to the grand longhouse, her hand linked in his arm, his other hand on hers. As they walked, they each got caught stealing glances at the other, small knowing smiles on their lips. Her insides did flip flops and she felt a burning sensation rush up into her chest at the intimacy of it all.
“Where is everyone?” She asked as they pressed the doors open having noticed how eerily quiet the town was with only a few people working to prepare food beside the building.
“SKOL!!!”
Darcy winced at the pain in her ears from the loud greeting in the hall. She felt Loki’s grip tighten on her hand making her realize she was squeezing his arm. Seeing smiling drunken faces all around looking at them as they entered, Darcy forced a grateful smile on her face. Glancing up at Loki, she could tell he was doing the same.
The first to approach and greet them were Floki and Helga who, after hugs and gripping arms and shoving a horn of mead in each of their hands, fell back behind the newlyweds. This seemed to be some sort of show of support and it made Darcy feel better in this anxious moment.
Most of the party that was with them on the journey through Jarl Borg’s territory had made it back and were present, yet sat back at the tables already imbibing in Ragnar and Lagertha’s generosity. And who could blame them? She could only imagine what they faced. And they had all been at the wedding.
Loki led her deeper into the longhouse. As they made their way, strangers and half-familiar faces expressed their well-wishes. With every new face, Darcy took larger swigs from her horn. As if Ragnar was watching, a wave of his hand sent Siggy over to them to refill their cups.
“Oh, Siggy, you don’t need to–” Darcy started, smiling at the woman who had only had kindness for her since her arrival in Kattegat. But the slight scowl on her face stopped her cold.
“Yes, I must,” she answered coldly and quickly topped off both of their horns, quickly whisking herself away without making eye contact once.
Darcy glanced at Loki who had an apologetic look on his face.
She could feel familiar obsessive thoughts bubbling up in her mind, feelings of guilt and helplessness. It was a frequent topic in her therapy sessions back in college at the student health center. She remembered her therapist talking her through and out of the depths of her obsession and self-hate at situations that were out of her control.
As if noticing her spiraling negative thoughts, Loki wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her over to Thor who was deep into one of his classic tales, a crowd of villagers sitting in rapped attention to his every word, eyes moving to follow each of his grand gestures as he talked with his hands, arms, heck, his entire body. His jovialness and ability to bring smiles and laughter was like a balm to the sour sadness that had crept into her mind at the thought of her happiness causing someone else’s misery. And Loki knew that. She glanced up to see him smiling at his brother’s epic yarn and a warmth spread through her at how intuitive their connection had become in just a matter of days.
Noticing her standing in the circle, one of Ragnar’s men stood from his seat on a bench and gestured to Darcy to take his place. Before she could protest, Loki was kindly pressing her down into the seat as he then took his place standing behind her, resting his empty hand on her shoulder.
She sat in the warmth of the fire and the mead and the stories of her brother-in-law. The warmth in that fact. That Thor was her brother not just in lightning but by marriage. And that darn bastard knew it the moment he saw her in New Mexico. She smiled into her horn cup as she took another sip. Glancing around at the crowd, most were even deeper in their cups than she was and Thor’s tales became more of the mythological sort. But everyone seemed so drunk, it didn’t seem to ruin his cover.
“He has tried to kill me on many occasions,” Thor boomed, gesturing at his brother with his horn of mead. Everyone around them laughed as if attempted fratricide was a totally normal everyday occurrence. And realizing the present company she was keeping, it most likely was.
“He transformed himself into a snake–”
“Oh, oh! I know this one!” Darcy shouted, realizing she had actually heard 21st-century Thor tell this story before.
Everyone turned to look at her. Thor just smiled, cocked his head, and narrowed his eyes.
Darcy slapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, Thor. Please. Go on.”
“No need to apologize, my dear. Please, you go on. I would love to hear this story from you,” Loki spoke, looking down at her, a mischievous grin on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes.
Darcy felt her cheeks flame up as she realized all eyes were transfixed on her.
“Well, um, okay. So,” she took a deep breath and let it out. “When they were kids, Loki–” She glanced back up at him nervously to find a supportive and curious smile on his lips.
“Loki knew Thor liked snakes, so he transformed himself into one. Thor, being the occasional idiot that he is, forgot about his brother’s shape-shifting abilities and picked up the snake to admire it.” She paused to look at Thor’s reaction to her little jab at him and saw him nodding his head, eyebrows raised as if in agreement that he should have known better.
“Then Loki transformed back into himself and was all like ‘Ah, it’s me!” Darcy tried her best to mimic Thor’s expression he had made back in New Mexico when he shared with them stories of other times his brother had tried to kill him. She raised up an eyebrow and curled her lips as she shouted “Ah!”. A little part of her heart broke at the memory, realizing not shortly after that, Loki had tried to kill all of them for real. She took in a deep breath hoping that the events of the past few months might be able to change that future for the better.
“And then Loki stabbed Thor,” she said, her hand gesturing in a little stabby motion. She paused. A silence sat around them as if everyone was still waiting for her to continue the story. “They were eight,” she said with a shrug.
The crowd around them roared with laughter.
“Well, that story hasn't changed for a thousand years,” Loki said, looking straight at Thor. “I’m surprised you hadn’t embellished upon it.”
“Why would I need to exaggerate?” Thor replied with a twinkling grin at Darcy and his brother as the audience around them continued to laugh. After a beat, he turned back to the whole crowd. "Have I ever told you all about the time I dressed as a bride and my brother dressed as my bridesmaid to get my hammer back from the Frost Giants?"
“Oh, Norns,” Darcy heard Loki mumble as the crowd around them cheered louder, clearly having heard the tale before but completely eager to listen to Thor’s retelling. And she was also totally there for it. “I think I shall go relieve myself and refill our cups. Darcy?”
He put out his hand for her horn and she passed it to him with a smile.
“Should I come with you?”
“No need. Please do enjoy my brother’s sordid version of this tale,” she smiled back at her nodding his chin in Thor’s direction. He leaned down to plant a light kiss upon her lips and she thought nothing of it, as if it had become this natural part of their existence together, until all around them began to cheer and raise their cups, all eyes on the newlyweds.
Darcy felt her cheeks redden and she tucked her hands between her legs and curled her shoulders demurely.
As people on the bench beside her shifted and got up for more mead, Helga squeezed herself down next to Darcy.
“I do enjoy your brother’s stories. He tells them with such vigor and animation,” Helga leaned in to tell her. Darcy watched as Thor continued on with his arms outstretched, mead spilling over from his horn.
“I have to agree with you,” she replied, leaning her shoulder into Helga with affection for her friend, grateful to have someone like her in her life here. She missed Jane. Missed her a lot. Helga could never replace Jane. They were too different to ever replace one another. But Darcy was glad for the female companionship. And grateful for the fact that Floki and Helga were crazy enough to truly believe all the myths and see through Thor and Loki’s cover story enough to let her feel free around them, unlike others in the village.
Darcy relaxed, leaning into Helga, as Thor regaled the crowd with another story, laughter roaring through the crowd with each hilarious twist and turn. She made a mental note to remember to ask him to tell more stories in the future. Jane would die. She smiled to herself at the thought.
“Helga, I gotta piss,” she said to her friend, realizing she had yet to break the seal even after all the horns of mead she consumed.
“Okay,” her friend nodded and got up with her, pulling her toward the back of the longhouse. “We can squat out back.” Helga giggled, her cheeks splotched red in her drunken state.
The two of them swayed with their arms linked out to the back where she could see others relieving themselves on the side of the hill that went downhill to the beach. The two of them gathered up their skirts and crouched into position waiting for the release.
“Ahhhh,” Darcy let out as soon as the pee started flowing. Helga laughed.
As their trickles subsided, Darcy could hear whispered voices but looked around to see that all the other pissers had returned to the party.
“Do you hear that, Helga?” She whispered loudly in her intoxication as she stood and adjusted her clothes back into place.
“Yes, I do,” Helga responded, pausing. “It sounds like Loki.”
“Noooo, he wouldn’t still be out pissing. He went to do that soooooo long ago.” Darcy waved her suggestion off.
Helga held up a finger to her lips as she tiptoed to the corner of the building to eavesdrop. Darcy attempted to follow just as lithely without success and stopped to gain her balance again before joining Helga against the back wall of the longhouse.
As she worked to stifle her giggles, she noticed Helga’s face go from jovial to serious to concerned, turning to face Darcy with a crinkled brow. All that look could mean was that Helga was right and it was Loki and, more than likely, with Thyri. There was no other person he could be talking to that would cause Helga to look at her that way.
She was about to burst around the corner as she passed Helga, but her friend grabbed her.
“Wait. Listen,” Helga said in the faintest of whispers in her ear, holding her in a hug.
“Why did you do it?” She heard Thyri ask, her voice cracking on the edge of tears.
There was silence.
“I was waiting for you, Loki. Waiting for you to return,” she continued. “I was here, counting the days, watching where the road meets the horizon. Hoping.”
“It was not what I had planned–” Loki started.
“Then why? Why did you do it?”
Helga held Darcy tighter as she struggled to hold herself back.
“It was arranged to protect the tenuous treaty between Ragnar and Borg. There is no simple explanation,” she heard him respond, sympathy and apologies dripping in his tone. Darcy’s ears burned. She was a pot ready to boil.
“And this is not the time for it. I must go back to my wife.” And like that, Loki turned her burner down to low, though she was still simmering.
Granted, their marriage did not happen because of love, but the floodgates that she had been staunchly guarding had been released and her feelings were out, wild and free, and she wasn’t fairly certain she could reign them in if she tried. And it was so stupid on her part. Soon, she would be gone, and Loki could go do whatever he wanted with whoever. That thought made her sick to her stomach.
“Gods forbid you keep your wife waiting,” Thyri cut back at him, bitterness and anger dripping from her tongue.
Darcy felt Helga pulling her away and back towards the door into the longhouse.
“Trust, Darcy,” her friend whispered in her ear.
As they passed through a back room of the longhouse, Darcy heard hushed voices and looked over to see Thyri’s mother, Siggy, leaning up against a table with her hands pressed to Rollo’s chest who was leaning over her. They both glared at Darcy and Helga as if they were two teenagers that had just gotten caught making out…or two enemies that just got caught plotting her demise.
“Come on,” Helga whispered, tugging on Darcy’s arm.
Anxiety and dread began to flood over Darcy. Thoughts of needing to get out filled her brain. Out of this building. Out of this town. Out of this time. She looped her arm in Helga’s as they walked back to Thor’s storytelling circle, the closeness of her friend grounding her somewhat.
Loki still had not returned which only pushed her further into her spiraling thoughts. People got up to make way for her and Helga on a bench and sat down, leaning on one another. Darcy, in her buzzed state, frantically tried to find something to focus her mind on. She locked in on Thor and tried her darndest to focus on his story.
She didn’t need to do this for long. Within minutes of them sitting back down, Darcy felt a hand slide onto her shoulder and wisps of warm breath on the shell of her ear.
“Your mead, elskan mín,” she heard Loki whisper as he held her cup out before her.
She was pissed at him and didn’t want to take the cup from him. But hearing non-English words disarmed her. Was she losing her all-speak ability? She could still understand Thor. She glanced up at him with confusion, ready to turn it into a glare. But then she saw the way he was looking back at her, all adoration and desire. And then she realized he had just called her a term of endearment. In his mother tongue. On purpose.
Dammit. How could she stay mad at him when he does things that melt her into puddles?
She leaned towards him and touched her forehead to his as she took her cup back. He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and stood back up to watch his brother tell his tale.
Trust , she heard Helga’s voice in her mind as she turned back to Thor.
As she finished her new horn of mead, she felt Loki slide his hand across her back, his breath on her ear. It sent goosebumps down her arms, a shiver down her spine, and a warmth pooling in her core.
Before he could say a word, she turned to look at him, his eyes almost predatory. She slid her fingers into his other hand with ghostly smooth touches along the tender skin of his palm. He responded with a sly grin and glided along with her as she stood and they both turned to leave the longhouse, Darcy under his arm and pressed into his side. She watched her feet as they walked out, not wanting to see if anyone was watching, the grin of a woman falling in love plastered across her face.
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