f/os x Me

“There’s nowhere to run, little prince.”

“You’re weak. Pathetic!”

“Your existence amounts to nothing, not without me to give you purpose. Glorious, glorious purpose.”

“Scream all you want, little prince, your people won’t come for you. You’re a monster in their eyes, remember? All you have in this cold, dark galaxy is me.”

“Sweetheart…? Loki?”

Startled, Loki’s head shot up to see (Y/N) standing before him, her arms crossed over her chest and her brows furrowed in concern as she studied him over the frames of her glasses. “I’m sorry, darling, I must’ve gotten lost in my own thoughts. Were you saying something?”

It was pointless to try and pass off the symptoms of his post-traumatic stress as a simple case of absentmindedness and punctuate it with a winning smile; his wife was no stranger to PTSD, having been diagnosed with it shortly after the Battle of Boston and her own near-death experience, and she’d always possessed an uncanny ability to see past his many carefully constructed facades. (Y/N), while unaware of the true extent of his inner turmoil, understood better than anyone what he endured on a daily basis and why he was not forthcoming about the root of it all, which was why she simply tucked a loose lock of black hair behind his ear, pressed a comforting kiss onto his forehead and gave him an understanding smile before crossing their suite’s bedchamber to slip on her brown leather boots. “I was just telling you that our guests are scheduled to land very shortly and that I’ve arranged for a small luncheon to be held at the library to welcome them. The last time they visited, I could tell that they weren’t exactly comfortable at Amirah’s royal banquet, so I made sure that today’s luncheon will be much more subdued for them.”

“That’s very considerate of you.” Loki cleared his throat and stood, rolling his stiff shoulders and making his way around the bed to retrieve his wife’s well-worn leather-bound notebook for her. “I’ll admit, I’m curious about these so-called Guardians of the Galaxy; by your descriptions, they sound unusually level-headed for those who proport to safeguard the entire galaxy all by themselves.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far; after they snuck out of the banquet, they got into the palace’s private stores of mead and their drunken antics around the city nearly caused an interplanetary dispute.” (Y/N) huffed in mild exasperation and pushed her slipping glasses back up her nose. “If it wasn’t for Elora and I and our quick thinking, the Freyr-Nova Treaty would’ve made history as the shortest-lasting trade agreement in the history of the Nine Realms.”

A month ago, while Loki was deployed on a mission to Siberia alongside Natasha and Bucky, (Y/N) had joined Queen Amirah in welcoming the Nova Empire’s ambassadors to Alfheim for the first time in over a thousand years. With Freyr’s barrier destroyed at long last, the Light Elves unanimously voted to re-establish their once-prosperous trade routes and shortly after, Thor journeyed via the Bifrost to Xandar, the capitol of the expansive Nova Empire, to negotiate on behalf of the newly-liberated planet; Nova Prime graciously agreed to Alfheim’s offer and a delegation was quickly dispatched, tasked with drafting a treaty that both Alfheim and the galaxy’s largest interstellar hegemony found acceptable. According to (Y/N)’s account, the Xandarian delegation had arrived alongside a rag-tag group of fighters called the Guardians of the Galaxy; they were similar to Midgard’s Avengers, albeit a little rougher around the edges, and they were escorting the delegation to Alfheim as a favor to Nova Prime, ensuring the Xandarians’ safety on the unfamiliar planet.

From what Loki gathered from his wife’s brief descriptions, the Guardians of the Galaxy were comprised of warriors from every corner of the universe and led by a half-Midgardian, half-Celestial man who called himself Star Lord. (Y/N) insisted that they were a spirited and friendly bunch but Loki was somewhat wary of them, drawing on his own experiences with mercenaries and soldiers-for-hire and their inherently greedy and duplicitous natures; however, he valued (Y/N)’s opinion above all else and for her sake, he vowed to keep an open mind throughout the Guardians’ visit. They were transporting a shipment of books for the newly-established Ljosalfgard Public Library, books from all across the galaxy that would be added to the library’s ever expanding collection for the enjoyment of all Alfheimians, and Loki was determined to see that (Y/N)’s massive undertaking for her people would continue on without any major setbacks.

“For someone who never formally studied the art of diplomacy, you’re exceptionally proficient at it,” Loki remarked, crossing the bedchamber and offering his wife her notebook with an admiring grin. “Although, living with the Avengers certainly provides one with plenty of practice.”

(Y/N) laughed and stood on her tip-toes to press a thankful kiss onto his lips. “You joke, but I had to negotiate a truce between Sam and Bucky yesterday and oversee an exchange of stolen goods; Sam borrowed Bucky’s favorite coffee mug without asking, so Bucky stole Redwing in retaliation.” She rolled her eyes as she tucked the notebook into her satchel; after fastening its flap closed, she held her arms out and twirled around in a circle. “How do I look?”

Catching her hands in his own mid-spin, Loki held her at arm’s length and appraised her appearance with an appreciative sigh. His wife always made it a point to dress in Alfheimian fashion whenever visiting her late mother’s realm, her way of honoring her ancestors and showing respect to her people, who’d slowly but surely grown to accept the half-human daughter of their beloved Princess Layeia Tilasdottir. Today, she’d elected to wear simple but traditional Alfheimian daywear: a white linen tunic tucked into a tan skirt – its hem embroidered with intricately designed florals – a dark green corset and well-worn brown leather boots, the ensemble made complete by the addition of her mother’s gold leaf earrings and a simple scarf holding her (Y/H/C) hair back. “You are the most beautiful…” Loki brought one of her hands up to press an exaggerated kiss onto her knuckles. “…ethereal…” He kissed the palm of her hand. “…gorgeous…” His lips trailed kisses up her arm while she giggled at his antics. “…sensual…” He placed one final kiss on her neck before pulling back with a roguish grin. “…exquisite woman in all of Alfheim, my love.”

“A very un-biased opinion, I see.”

“Opinion?” Loki scoffed as his wife intertwined their fingers and led him through their suite to the closed double doors. “Darling, I was stating several scientifically proven facts. If you don’t believe me, then perhaps we should forgo the luncheon and return to our bedchamber; actions speak far louder than words ever could, after all, even those uttered by a Silvertongue such as I.”

(Y/N)’s eyes twinkled and she hummed in interest. “Tempting, but it would be rude of us to neglect our guests. We can always revisit this topic of conversation tonight at our secret grotto in the forest, perhaps while we enjoy a midnight swim together?”

“Mmm, I do so admire the way you think, darling…” He purred, pressing a lingering kiss onto her lips before whisking one of the doors open and dipping into a dramatic bow. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” With an overly dainty curtsy, (Y/N) strode through the doorway and tugged Loki along with her, the pair of them walking happily down the palace hallway as any lingering thoughts of his nightmare vanished from Loki’s mind. Unfortunately, the peaceful little bubble they’d surrounded themselves in would soon shatter in one single, shocking moment…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ljosalfgard Public Library was a grand six-story building situated in the center of the sprawling city from which it took its name, with stone columns wrapped with flowering vines and slabs of colorful crystals hung over archways to act as rainbow-hued windows. A mural adorned the stone walls of the entry hall depicting the realm’s most historically significant moments, from the establishment of Alfheim as one of the Nine Realms of the cosmos by Lady Astrid and Laufey’s invasion and defeat at the hands of King Freyr and the Alfheimian Army to Layeia Tilasdottir’s failed rebellion against the treacherous Tarian and the recent Battles of Alfheim and Boston; the artwork depicting the Avengers battling the Draugar alongside the Alfheimian rebels and the Asgardian Einherjar – the unification of Alfheim, Asgard and Midgard – always brought a smile to Loki’s face, and he felt that the Alfheimian artist successfully captured the ferocious beauty that (Y/N), the one and only daughter of the Goddess of Love and Warfare, radiated in the heat of battle.

The interior of the library was still very much a work in progress; on the main floor, crates of books were stacked atop one another in an endless maze and the remaining floors were decorated with rows of empty hand-carved bookcases waiting to be filled. (Y/N) and the library’s board of directors were still finalizing the classification system, tentatively agreeing to separate books by their planet of origin and from there divide them by their specific subject matter, but until they completed their lengthy catalogue, the books would remain safely packed away in their crates. Sun shone through the circular skylight high above and filled the building with the warmest light and at night, clusters of crystals strategically placed throughout each floor glowed brightly.

Loki and (Y/N), deep in conversation about the world-building in Frank Herbert’s Dune and the ethical implications of its cultural appropriation, arrived at the library and were met with the sight of Hagen and Myriani helping the palace’s chefs arrange a table of food in the main floor’s conference chamber; Loki’s mouth watered at the sight of fresh-baked rolls, tender cuts of meat and iced pitchers of chilled mead, and while his stomach started rumbling, he found himself hoping that the Guardians of the Galaxy arrived sooner rather than later.

“Oh, everything looks wonderful!” (Y/N) left Loki’s side to converse with the chefs and thanked them for their services, her heartfelt praise bringing immediate smiles to their faces.

Too preoccupied with admiring his kindhearted wife, Loki didn’t notice the Alfheimian Royal Guards sidling up to him until Myriani softly spoke. “Sometimes when I look at her, I swear that I see Layeia and David standing in her place.”

Loki offered the guard a sympathetic smile. “The witches who raised my mother had a saying about grief: ‘Those we love can never be truly lost, so long as one knows where to look.’”

Hagen patted Loki on the shoulder, the force of the Alfheimian’s heavy hand nearly causing his knees to buckle as he released a heavy sigh. “Wise words, my friend. I only hope that (Y/N) harnesses her mother’s capacity for patience and suppresses her father’s predilection to irritability during today’s luncheon.”

“My darling (Y/N) puts up with my ridiculous family and all of the Avengers on a daily basis, so these so-called Guardians of the Galaxy cannot possibly be that bad…” Loki trailed off when he caught sight of Hagen and Myriani’s matching expressions of incredulity. “What?”

“They’re the most ill-mannered, obstinate ruffians that I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting, and I once survived an encounter with the wild stallion Hófvarpnir.” Hagen shuddered. “The murderous rabbit tried bartering for my spear and proceeded to pilfer mead from the palaces private stores alongside that loud and annoyingly overly-literal tattooed warrior.”

Nodding in agreement, Myriani tightened her grip on her sheathed sword’s hilt and cast a furtive glance towards the library’s main entrance. “Let’s not forget the profanity-spewing talking tree, who gorged himself on sweet rolls before passing out in the palace gardens and whose branches nearly suffocated Queen Gretta’s prized moon roses. And I haven’t even mentioned that rakish half-Celestial and his empath sister; he openly flirted with Queen Amirah herself and the empath nearly made General Elora cry with only a single touch!”

Loki listened intently to the Alfheimians recount their experiences with their unusual guests, all the while wondering if the steadfast guards were exaggerating their tales of horror or if his kindhearted wife was sanding the rough edges off the Guardians of the Galaxy. I imagine it’s a little bit of both, he thought to himself with an inward chuckle; the Alfheimians had a penchant for formalities – even more so than Asgardians, he’d been surprised to learn – and conversely, (Y/N)’s compassionate nature could sometimes blind her to a person’s more disagreeable traits. “Well, my curiosity is certainly piqued now…”

Hagen and Myriani shared a knowing look with Loki before leaving to escort the palace chefs out, and he was quickly joined by (Y/N). “I can’t wait to see what sort of books our guests have brought us! My fingers are crossed for more historical accounts, but we could also use more children’s picture books and-oh, that reminds me!” She pulled her notebook out and jotted down a note as she rambled on. “I need to discuss the necessity of creating more library services for Alfheimians with print disabilities with the library’s board of directors. We’ve already started to translate each of our books into fingurknúar – that’s the Alfheimian’s version of Midgard’s Braille – and we’ve been recording audiobooks, but we can’t forget to bring in magnification aids as well. When I was working at the New York Public Library, we carried large type books and issued personal reading machines to patrons with visual impairments. I should ask Peter if the Nova have a device that works similarly, or maybe Tony could invent something similar; either way, it has to have the ability to be recharged via magic or possibly solar panels, since Amirah and the Council are still firmly opposed to fully bringing electricity onto Alfheim.” She looked up at him with an expectant smile. “What do you think?”

Loki, who’d been hanging on to every word of his wife’s impassioned speech and silently admiring her thoughtfulness, returned her smile and with utmost sincerity, replied, “I think that there’s no one more equipped to realize Layeia Tilasdottir’s dream than her brilliant, considerate daughter; thanks to your steadfast leadership, this library will be the crown jewel of Alfheim and solidify this realm as an epicenter of enlightenment and…” He found himself trailing off, entirely distracted from his attempts to commend his wife by the caterwauling emanating from the nearest street.

“The boys are back in town, the boys are back in town! The boys are back in tow-aow-a-won, the boys are back in town!”

“Give it a rest, Star Munch, you sound like a dying cat!”

“I’ll have you know that many people – namely women, lots of smokin’-hot women – have told me that I have the voice of an angel, so there. And it’s not Star Munch, Fur Face, it’s Star Lord.”

“I am Groot.”

“That was hurtful, Groot, and we’re definitely gonna have a talk about your language later. You think I’m a good singer, right Mantis?”

“Wait, you were singing? Drax told me that you were attempting the mating call of your people, Peter, in hopes of finding a romantic partner here who rivals your pathetic nature.”

“Seriously, Drax? Why the hell would you tell her that?!”

“What? Is that not an accurate description of singing as an activity, Quill?”

“And for your information, I already have a romantic partner and I’d like to see you tell her she ‘rivals my pathetic nature.’ I bet you a hundred credits that none of you have the guts!”

While Loki’s brow arched at the colorful exchange, (Y/N) sighed to herself and fought off an exasperated smile. “…That would be our guests.”

(Y/N) slipped her hand into his and he followed after her into the library’s entry hall, arriving just in time to catch his first glimpse of the infamous Guardians of the Galaxy as they ascended the building’s sloped ramp. Leading the motley crew was a human man, with windswept brown hair and jade-green eyes and wearing a burgundy leather jacket; a single glance told Loki that this was the half-Celestial that Myriani had spoken of but strangely, he couldn’t sense any of the otherworldly power that was supposed to flow through his veins. Spotting the old Midgardian MP3 player clipped onto his blaster holster and the earbuds dangling from the neck of his shirt, Loki realized that the scruffy, thirtyish-year old man was also the source of the earlier warbling and, by extension, Peter Quill, their self-described leader.

Loki’s gaze shifted over to Quill’s right and he studied the two incompatible beings with growing curiosity; the male cut a rather imposing figure, with rippling muscles beneath his grey and red skin and a deep scowl on his face, while the slender female was his exact opposite, her hands fidgeting as her pitch-black eyes flittered about and her glowing antenna swayed with each step. Looking to Quill’s left, Loki was forced to school his expression as his eyes settled on what appeared to be a young Flora colossus and an anthropomorphic raccoon; the sentient tree was shorter than Quill by nearly a foot and intensely focused on the rock it was kicking down the cobblestone street, while the raccoon studied their surroundings with his eyes narrowed in suspicion and one of his paws resting on the hilt of his holstered blaster. They were without a doubt the strangest ragtag collection of living beings that Loki had ever beheld, but it was clear to him that despite their obvious differences and their incessant bickering, they were a family through and through.

“How’s it goin’, your royal highness?” Quill greeted, his teammates’ earlier ribbing forgotten as he smiled brightly at (Y/N) and shook her outstretched hand. “I gotta admit, I didn’t think we’d be invited back here after what happened last time; from what the locals told us, you Alfheimians have one helluva vengeful streak.”

“That may be, but I know all too well what it’s like to be a fish out of water and I’d never blame someone for doing something drastic to ease their discomfort,” (Y/N) kindly offered, but she held fast to Quill’s hand when he started to pull back and fixed him with a pointed look. “In the future, however, Queen Amirah would appreciate it if you showed her realm and its people respect by refraining from indulging in a repeat performance.” Her irises briefly flashed bright purple as she sternly continued. “Otherwise, as the Defender of the Realm of Alfheim, I’ll be forced to take any and all necessary measures to ensure my people’s safety, Guardians of the Galaxy or not.”

Although Loki was not the intended recipient of (Y/N)’s implied threat, he felt a chill go down his spine and suppressed a smile when he saw that her words achieved their intended result; the leader of the Guardians chuckled nervously and extricated his hand from (Y/N)’s grasp with a stiff nod. “You betcha! We’ll be on our best behavior, won’t we?” A wide-eyed Mantis frantically nodded and Rocket grumbled under his breath while Drax stared unblinkingly and Groot watched a translucent butterfly flit overhead. “Yeah, that’s the spirit, guys. Nothin’ but good manners from us today!”

“Good!” (Y/N) beamed before gesturing for Loki to join her at her side. “Now that that’s out of the way, I’d like to introduce you all to my husband, Loki. Loki, this is Peter Quill – also known as Star Lord – his sister Mantis, Drax, Rocket and last but not least, Groot!”

Quill shook his hand and offered him a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Loki. (Y/N) told us a lot about you already; all good things, of course.”

“Likewise,” Loki replied, politely bowing his head at their guests while (Y/N) intertwined her hand with his once again. “I apologize for my absence during your initial visit, I was predisposed on Midgard. It’s a pleasure to finally make the acquaintance of the illustrious Guardians of the Galaxy.”

“‘Illustrious,’ huh? I like the sound of that! You know, it’s about time we got some proper recognition ‘round here.” Rocket nodded appreciatively, his dark eyes studying Loki curiously as he toothily grinned. “Last time we were here, your old lady said that you were a respectable sort of guy, and I guess she wasn’t lyin’.”

Loki frowned in confusion but before he could voice his inquiry, Drax spoke up. “Rocket, this woman is clearly not an old lady.”

“Oh, for the love of…it’s a figure of speech, you idiot!”

“It makes no sense!”

“I am Groot.”

Mantis placed a placating hand on the muscular warrior’s arm. “Groot is right, Drax. Perhaps she’s considered old by Terra’s standards.”

“Mantis, she’s younger than me…” An exasperated Quill pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Then you must be very old, Peter.”

Seeing the beginning of another argument taking shape, (Y/N) hastily stepped forward and gestured towards the library’s main entrance. “You’ve had a long journey and I’m sure you’re all famished, so I’ve had the chefs set up a mat-borð in the conference chamber; I hope you like sandwiches and iced mead!”

“You guys go ahead, I’ve gotta talk business with her royal highness. And don’t scarf down all the grub! Best behavior, remember?” The four Guardians wasted no time, disappearing into the library with hastily spoken words of thanks in search of their promised food, their disagreement long-forgotten; Loki took note of Hagen and Myriani’s reappearance and permitted himself a nod of approval when both Alfheimian guards followed after their honored guests without any prompting. “Nova Prime sends her regards, along with a couple of extra crates of books; she had the librarians on Xandar look through their archives for any spare copies, figured that they’d do more good here than sittin’ in their archives collecting dust.”

“Really?” (Y/N) beamed and excitedly clasped her hands together. “Oh, that’s wonderful! The next time you see her, please extent my thanks to her for her generosity.” She glanced around expectantly before returning her gaze to the half-Celestial with a serene smile. “I couldn’t help but notice that you’re short a couple of crew members. Did they elect to stay on Knowhere after what happened during your first visit?”

Peter chuckled. “Nah, they just drew the short straws when it came to offloading the cargo. They were pretty pissed about it, but it was worth it to see ‘em both lose for once.”

“A sight that you’ll never see again, Star-Lord, lest you wish to lose a limb.”

Loki, whose mind had started to wander as he mused about their planned rendezvous later that evening, stood ram-rod straight and felt his heartbeat quicken at the terrifyingly familiar voice that had cut through the air. Striding up the cobblestone street towards them were two women, one a green-skinned Zehoberei and the other a blue-hued Luphomoid, and both were guiding a fully loaded hover-cart with practiced ease, careful to mind the vendor’s stalls lining the street and the townsfolk who were going about their day. The polite smiles they exchanged with the merchants selling their wares and the respectful nods given to the curious Alfheimians that crossed their paths stood in stark contrast to the fierce snarls and bloodthirsty glares that Loki associated with the Daughters of Thanos, and they did nothing to quell his rising panic.

“You know, it’s not very polite to discuss maiming people in front of royalty,” Peter retorted with a reprimanding frown that was softened by the tender look he gave the Zehoberei before glancing back at (Y/N). “Not sure who’s the sorest loser, my girlfriend or her sister.”

The Luphomoid’s pitch-black eyes flashed dangerously. “If you say one more word on the subject, I promise that it will be you who’s the sore one.”

Loki’s throat tightened and he took an involuntary step back as the sisters approached, drawing (Y/N)’s attention. “Sweetheart?” Her soft voice was laced with concern but he was unable to tear his eyes away from the Daughters of Thanos, the memories of his torture by the Black Order’s hands consuming his mind while fear clutched at his heart with icy talons.

“Manners, guys, c’mon! You two already know (Y/N), of course, and this here’s her husband, Loki. Loki, this is Gamora and Nebula…”

The ringing in Loki’s ears only grew louder as both women’s heads snapped up and their widening eyes found his and for a terrifying, unending moment, he was back on the Sanctuary at the mercy of the Mad Titan and his bloodthirsty Black Order.

“There’s nowhere to run, little prince.”

“Loki? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“You’re weak. Pathetic!”

“Dude, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna hurl-”

“Your existence amounts to nothing, not without me to give you purpose. Glorious, glorious purpose.”

“Your highness-?”

“Scream all you want, little prince, your people won’t come for you. You’re a monster in their eyes, remember? All you have in this cold, dark galaxy…is me.”

A feather-light touch on his wrist caused him to violently jerk back, and the daggers he hadn’t consciously summoned slashed through the air in a desperate attempt to defend himself. They connected with the blade of a sword with a resounding clang, jolting Loki out of his memories and wrenching his eyes open, his breath hitching in his throat at the mortifying sight he was met with; (Y/N)’s sword was raised high in the air, one hand gripping its hilt as she blocked his daggers while the other was encased by swirls of purple-hued Alf Seidr, the powerful magic creating a translucent barrier between the two of them and the three shocked Guardians of the Galaxy.

“Loki?” The warrior princess, now donned in the battle armor of the Cosmic Sorceress, stared up into his eyes without an ounce of fear but rather a look of profound concern for him. “Sweetheart, are you with me?” Loki’s hands trembled as he willed the daggers away and she quickly sheathed her sword, reaching out to him before suddenly stopping herself. “Is it all right if I touch you?”

Loki jerkily nodded and his wife’s hand moved to cradle the side of his face, her thumb softly tracing the line of his cheekbone; the gentleness with which she touched him and the warmth she emanated helped to calm his racing heart, but his panic was soon replaced by confusion as his gaze landed on the galactic trio just beyond her. “Those two women…t-they’re the Daughters of Thanos…”

“They were, but not anymore,” Peter hastily interjected, holding his hands up in a placating gesture and stepping as close as (Y/N)’s Alf Seidr would allow. “Gamora and Nebula turned against Thanos a couple of years ago and helped us take him down. They risked everything to save the universe from him, and we only ended up winning in the end because of them.”

Loki’s jaw slackened in disbelief. “Thanos…Thanos is dead? Truly?”

Nodding, Gamora removed her hand from her sheathed blade and started fiddling with the plethora of silver rings that adorned her slender fingers. “I dealt the killing blow myself.” She exchanged a solemn look with her sister, who swiftly returned her hardened gaze to her prosthetic arm. “His death means life for trillions of beings across the universe, Prince Loki, and freedom for my sister and I. We do not regret the choice that we made, but we lament that we didn’t have the strength to make it sooner.”

Loki, his entire body going numb as the news of his enemy’s death began to settle in, pursed his lips and forced himself to acknowledge the Zehoberei’s words with a short nod. While he grappled with a slew of conflicting emotions, he tried his best to rearrange his features to appear more neutral and mask the storm that was beginning to rage within him, but it was obvious that the only one he’d succeeded in fooling was the discomforted half-Celestial. “Well, now that we got all the Thanos stuff out of the way, where’d you want all these books?”

“I’ll, um…I’ll show you.” (Y/N) smiled tightly and with a wave of her hand, the magical barrier vanished and her Alfheimian daywear replaced her armor. “Loki, perhaps you could go ahead and let Hagen and Myriani know that the rest of our guests have arrived?”

Amidst Loki’s inner turmoil, (Y/N) stood as a beacon of light, subtly offering him a moment to compose himself away from prying eyes, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and pressing a grateful kiss to her lips. “Of course, my love.”

He inclined his head towards the three Guardians before turning and striding up the entrance ramp, keeping his pace slow and controlled as he sought out the Alfheimian guards. After relaying his wife’s message, he excused himself from the entry hall and teleported to the library’s expansive roof, staggering back a step into the nearest statue with the force of his exhale and sliding down to sit against the cold marble. And as he stared off into the blue skies of Alfheim, tears silently streamed down his face while the fingernails digging into the palms of his hands, the sharp pain serving to remind him of the torture he’d been forced by Thanos to endure and the burden of shame he’d carried in silence ever since.

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As the afternoon wore on, it seemed as though Hagen and Myriani’s earlier fears were unwarranted; the Guardians of the Galaxy, while undoubtedly rough around the edges, were nothing but cordial and respectful of Alfheim’s traditions and its many social conventions. The informality of the lunch arranged by (Y/N) seemed to put the intergalactic heroes at ease, and they mingled amongst their hosts while they enjoyed the sandwiches and iced mead; Peter talked (Y/N)’s ear off about Midgardian music and practically interrogated her about her favorite musicians and songs, Drax and Rocket compared weaponry with a vaguely uncomfortable Hagen while Myriani attempted to engage Nebula in small talk with minimal success, Mantis eagerly flipped through a Midgardian picture book about a cookie-obsessed mouse and Groot was eagerly scarfing down one of the brownies that (Y/N) had personally baked for their guests. Overall, it seemed as though the luncheon was an overwhelming success, indicative of his wife’s growing aptitude for diplomacy and her natural-born generosity.

I daresay their behavior is also due to my rather public episode earlier, Loki silently conceded as he watched the gathering from a quiet corner of the library; the food and drink he’d salivated over earlier sat untouched on a nearby desk, his stomach still too uneasy to handle anything, and he continued to anxiously fidget with his hands. It was all he could do to remain there in the library and refrain from teleporting himself back to the safety of their suite, to fight the urge to run just as he’d wanted to do the moment he’d been commanded to lead the Chitauri in their invasion of Midgard. But he remained, out of respect for his wife and her people and to project strength in the face of his emotional reaction to such earth-shattering news.

Heeled boots echoed across the marble floor and without taking his eyes off of (Y/N) standing in the distance, Loki knew exactly who was approaching and steeled himself for their impending conversation. “Are you enjoying the festivities, Lady Gamora?”

“Princess (Y/N) is a kind and generous host,” The Zehoberei replied and from the corner of his eye, he watched as she leaned against the nearest bookshelf and crossed her arms over her chest. “Our reputation often precedes us, so we’ve learned to expect that we’re to be paid and sent on our way the moment we complete a job. Needless to say, this is all a little strange for us, but we appreciate it more than we can ever say.”

Loki smiled wanly to himself. “My darling wife is welcoming to all, but she holds a special place in her heart for those whose reputations leave something to be desired.” He chanced a brief glance at the assassin. “Forgive me for prying, but considering our…shared history, may I ask how you and your sister-?”

“Became Guardians of the Galaxy?” Gamora supplied; while her subtle smile remained on her green-hued face, her ring-adorned fingers tightened perceptively around her biceps at his inquiry. “Nebula and I were ordered to retrieve the Power Stone for our father. Knowing how dangerous he’d become with even one Infinity Stone in his possession, we defied his order and betrayed him; we planned on finding the stone ourselves and selling it to secure our futures away from Thanos and his bloodlust forever, but fate had other plans in store for the two of us. We tracked the stone to Peter, who’d been attempting to sell it on Xandar, and in the ensuing fight, we became acquainted with Rocket and Groot, a bounty hunting duo seeking to capture Peter for the Ravagers’ bounty on him.”

“And where does your friend Drax fit into this story?”

“Oh, we met him in prison shortly after and he aided in our escape.” He hummed in interest, his earlier apprehension momentarily forgotten as he continued to listen to the assassin’s tale. “But when we met with the buyer my sister and I had sought out, he showed us all that the stone was truly capable of.” A faraway look crossed Gamora’s features and she stared off into space, the haunting emptiness in her eyes reminding him far too much of the sight that sometimes greeted him in his own reflection. “The death and destruction that Thanos wrought paled in comparison to all he could achieve with the Power Stone. We were suddenly attacked by Ronan, the radical Kree warlord who’d allied himself with our father in exchange for the obliteration of Xandar, and he stole the stone before leaving us all for dead. It was then that we decided to put our differences aside to defend Xandar alongside the Nova Corps, and we even managed to convince Peter’s old Ravagers faction to help us. Together, we succeeded in stopping Ronan and saving Xandar from destruction, and then…”

“You went after your father,” Loki supplied when Gamora’s words trailed off, and the assassin nodded stiffly as she twisted her silver rings around her fingers. “I cannot begin to imagine the weight of your decision that day. However, I would be remiss not to say that yours was the correct decision.”

Gamora pressed her lips together in a firm line and nodded again. “I do not mourn him. I mourn the little girl who was forced to watch as half of her people were slaughtered before her very eyes, who was taken from the only home she’d ever known and groomed to be a bloodthirsty, merciless warrior, who carried out the Mad Titan’s horrific orders for fear of her own life and who survived despite it all…” Her gentle brown eyes flicked over to meet his, her pupils shining with remorse. “I became a Guardian of the Galaxy to atone for my sins, to use the skills I’d been forced to hone since childhood to protect and defend others…but I have come to understand that there are many atrocities I committed as one of the Black Order that cannot be atoned for, and all I can do is tell you that I’m sorry for the part I played in your imprisonment.”

Closing his eyes, Loki took a steadying breath as his mind unwittingly flashed back to his year of captivity, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the places where his shackles had torn into the flesh of his wrists. “You were just as much a prisoner of Thanos as I was.”

“Be that as it may, it does nothing to negate the guilt I carry in my heart.”

Loki swallowed thickly and when one of his fingers grazed his gold wedding band, he opened his eyes and stared across the room at (Y/N), taking comfort in his wife’s calming presence. “After my defeat at the hands of the Avengers, I lived in fear that after failing to obtain the Space Stone and losing the Mind Stone in the process, Thanos would track me down as he once promised to do and kill me for my transgressions. A part of me was pleased when Odin decreed that I was to serve out my sentence on Midgard as an Avenger; it meant that my mother would remain safe on Asgard and away from Thanos. But in an unforeseen twist of fate, I ended up meeting the love of my life and unexpectedly grew closer to my one-time enemies, eventually coming to regard them as my closest friends as I fell in love with my darling (Y/N) and bonded with my brother…and with that, my fear of Thanos’ vengeance only compounded. Living with that dread, carrying it around in silence…in some ways, it was worse than the torture because this time, I had everything to lose.”

“…Truly, I cannot tell you how sorry I am-”

“I do not tell you this to lay any more blame on you or your sister, Lady Gamora,” Loki gently interrupted, looking away from (Y/N) to give the assassin the barest hint of a reassuring smile. “In fact, I wish to extend my gratitude.”

Gamora’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You’re…thanking me?”

“The knowledge of Thanos’ demise will never stop the nightmares from invading my dreams, nor will it magically erase all that I suffered by his hand, but what I can do now is live my life alongside my friends and family to the fullest without having to constantly look over my shoulder.” He inclined his head in the direction of her fellow Guardians of the Galaxy gathered together at the other side of the library. “A sentiment I presume you share…”

They watched from afar as Peter, grinning ear-to-ear, plugged his MP3 player into one of (Y/N)’s portable speakers and pulled her into a dance while the opening bars of Three Dog Night’s “Joy To The World” played throughout the chamber; Groot and Mantis danced enthusiastically near Drax, who was watching the pair dancing with a stoic stillness that was only betrayed by the slightest of lip twitches, and Rocket bobbed his heat to the beat while Nebula awkwardly swayed from side to side, looking far happier than Loki had ever seen her before as Hagen and Myriani listened to the Midgardian music with unbridled fascination. The group of oddballs reminded Loki so much of his own strange collection of friends back on Midgard, and his heart swelled with affection for them all; just as he’d told the assassin, his time as one of Thanos’ captives would remain with him forever, an indelible scar upon his mind and a collection of phantom pains all over his body, but the life he would continue to lead alongside his beloved wife, his brother and all their friends would help him heal and eventually come to terms with his trauma.

When Loki glanced over at Gamora, her stoic expression had softened into a tender smile as she watched the family she’d found after enduring a lifetime of fear and loneliness. “I do.” She met his gaze and her green-hued skin darkened with embarrassment when she realized she’d been caught, but her eyes never left his. “A word of advice, Prince Loki? Talk to someone about what you went through. It won’t seem like it at first, but putting words to all that happened will help you move forward and put Thanos behind you once and for all.”

“Hey guys!” They both looked over to see (Y/N) and Peter approaching, and the sight of both Midgardians beaming brought a smile to Loki’s face. “(Y/N) here said she’s gonna hook me up with a new music player, one she says can hold thousands of songs! Can you believe that? I’m gonna have so many more songs to jam out to while we’re flying the Bowie!”

Gamora’s eyes shone with fondness for Peter as she shook her head in playful exasperation. “Don’t you ever get tired of your Terran music?”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I stop listening to music, and it’ll be an even colder one when I stop dancin’ to it.” Peter’s grin only widened, and he held his hand out to his lover while wriggling his eyebrows. “How ‘bout it, my lovely lady? Ready to show these Light Elves how it’s done?”

While her green-hued cheeks darkened and a bashful smile brightened her features, Gamora placed her hand in Peter’s and allowed him to lead the two of them back towards the others. They truly found happiness after the horrors they endured, Loki observed as he watched Gamora joyfully twirl across the floor with her lover and Nebula laugh alongside their friends. In the past, it was a notion that would have undoubtedly angered him, the idea that the Daughters of Thanos would in any way be deserving of a peaceful life, but his time on Midgard had taught him to be more empathetic and less hasty in his judgements of others; Gamora and Nebula had suffered greatly at the hands of Thanos and the Black Order and to make up for the atrocities they’d committed in their adoptive father’s name, they turned against him and ensured that he would not live to see his grand plan come to fruition, much like how Loki had joined the Avengers and fought to protect the planet he’d once terrorized. By all intents and purposes, the sisters had earned every bit of their happiness, and Loki was content to know that they too had found a way to move on with their lives.

“Loki?” Turning away from the joyful sight, Loki met (Y/N)’s concerned gaze and watched as she tentatively slipped her hand into his. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Loki smiled, bringing their joined hands up to his lips and reverently kissing her knuckles. “I will be, my love.”

(Y/N) returned his smile with one of her own, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she wasn’t convinced. “I know that the time between Thor’s banishment and the Battle of New York isn’t something you’re comfortable talking about with me or Thor or our friends, but you’ll talk about it with someone, won’t you?”

Thinking back on Gamora’s similar request and how content the sisters were in their new lives as Guardians of the Galaxy, the all-to-familiar shame that reared its ugly head whenever Loki stopped to think about his unspoken trauma was markedly absent, and he felt the knot of tension he’d carried for so long in his chest begin to loosen; it was still there, as were the memories and the phantom pains, but it was no longer all-consuming as it had once been. “I will, darling. You have my word that I will.”

Loki held his wife’s hand flat against his chest and cradled her cheek before leaning down and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss, smiling against them as she wrapped her free arm around his waist and pulled him closer to her. When they were finally forced to separate for air, (Y/N) guided his head down and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead before pulling away and nodding towards the raucous gathering across the library. “Our guests are interested in getting to know you; it seems that they stumbled across a book of Norse Mythology in that shipment from Xandar and were looking forward to learning if the stories about you were true, particularly the one about the goat-”

“Damn Fandral and his drunkenness! That Norns-forsaken goat story will never cease to haunt me, will it?” Loki groaned while (Y/N)’s shoulders shook with silent giggles. “I don’t suppose that our new friends were joking about having questions about that specific story, were they?”

“No, but I think it’s only worked to boost your favorability with them; they’re talking about taking you to the pub down the road after the luncheon and buying you a drink.” (Y/N) smiled adoringly up at him. “You see, I’ve told them quite a lot about my husband’s daring exploits over the centuries, and they’re quite eager to hear more about his adventures directly from the source.”

 “Well, then, as I’m not one to keep a captive audience waiting…” Loki trailed off with a growing smile, giving her one last kiss before gallantly offering her his arm. “Shall we, my love?”

(Y/N) laughed as she gave him a sweeping curtsy and wound her arm around his. “We shall, my silly God of Dramatics.”

They made their way over to their guests and spent an enjoyable afternoon socializing with their new friends, sharing stories and laughter over pints of mead and departing with promises to meet again soon. While saying their goodbyes to the Daughters of Thanos, a silent understanding passed between Loki, Gamora and Nebula; the three of them were bonded not only by the trauma inflicted upon them by Thanos, but by the fierceness with which they’d fought to live their lives despite their trauma. Watching Peter slip his hand into Gamora’s while they walked up the ramp of the Bowie and Rocket excitedly explain to Nebula his ideas for improving her various cybernetics, Loki sent a silent word of thanks to the Norns on the sisters’ behalf, satisfied in the knowledge that they were where they belonged and hopeful in the wake of hearing about Thanos’ demise that he too would achieve the same sense of inner harmony. And that night, holding his wife close in the serene silence of their bedchamber, Loki slept peacefully for the first time in four years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Old Norse Translations: Fingurknúar-Finger Bumps Mat- borð-Table laid with food

A/N: I enjoyed being able to expand this universe a little with the inclusion of the Guardians and I've been wanting to delve further into Loki's past for a while now, so I hope that I did both justice. Since I'm working on so many other fics and series', I can't promise when I'll be back with more Spellbinding, but I can promise you that I will keep writing for it because I adore this story with all my heart.

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk?si=5fcb3ef04de544e7

“Spellbinding” Masterlist

“I can put it out,” Charlie muttered, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. He flicked his eyes sideways as he shifted slightly under the sheer weight of the immortal's focus.

“If the smoke bothers you.” He added after a small pause.

The vampire didn’t pull away. Instead, he took another deep, appreciative inhale right against the collar of the uniform, a soft, content hum vibrating deep in his marble chest.

“No,” Carlisle murmured, his voice smooth, velvety, and entirely unbothered by the tobacco.

“Leave it. I like it.”

You took a slow sip of your coffee, a faint, knowing smile tugging at your lips. The familiarity in the kitchen was palpable—a thick, sweet current that felt as natural as breathing. It was a deeply ingrained habit of Carlisle's to scent and sniff the people he held closest, a trait Edward had clearly inherited, though the patriarch possessed centuries of practice in masking it but here, in the privacy of this cramped kitchen, the immaculate doctor let the mask slip entirely.

“You’re going to burn a hole in his jacket if you keep that up, Doc,” you teased softly from the table, your voice steady and amused. Charlie’s eyes flicked to you, a rare, fond smirk breaking through his tired expression.

“Hear that? You're a hazard.” Despite his words, the Chief didn't move away. He leaned back just a fraction more, letting his human warmth bleed through his clothes to meet the vampire's cool chest. He was a man of few words, set in his ways, but the quiet acceptance in his posture spoke volumes. Furthermore, he welcomed the closeness just as much as his partner did.

Carlisle finally opened his eyes, the brilliant topaz burning with a quiet, intense affection as his gaze drifted from Charlie over to you. With a movement so fluid it defied human physics, he left his spot and appeared right at your side without a sound.

You didn't flinch when got close nor when he leaned down, entirely used to his sudden presence. His cool breath brushed your ear as his nose trailed a slow, deliberate line along your jaw, taking a deep, reverent breath of your scent. He inhaled the smell of your shampoo, the crisp rain clinging to the clothes, and the underlying, intoxicating sweetness of your blood—a mix that, to him, simply meant home.

“And you,” Carlisle whispered, his lips lightly grazing the skin just below your ear, his tone deeply affectionate.

“You smell of rain and cinnamon. It is entirely unfair how distracting you both are.”

“Then stop letting us distract you,” you replied softly, leaning back just enough to catch his golden gaze, your smile widening slightly.

From the counter, Charlie let out a low huff, taking a final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in a glass ashtray. He didn't say a word—he never did when actions were enough—but he simply looked over at you, his eyes soft, before his gaze flicked up to meet Carlisle's golden ones.

There was an unspoken something between the three of you—a quiet understanding that didn't need a name, yet, to be real. It was found in the way Charlie shared his space, the way Carlisle protected your fragile human lives, and the way you anchored both of them between the mundane and the supernatural.