She cautiously stepped around the corner, coming face to face with...

I froze, my attention drifting from the book in my hands at a weird noise behind me. It sounded like some kind of fluttering, but when I didn't hear it again, I went back to my book.

...coming face to face with-

"Shoot!"

I set my book down. The noise had come again, along with something light hitting our hardwood floors before my husband, Jimmy Woo, huffed. I marked the page in my book, set it down, then turned around to look over the back of the couch.

I frowned when I saw Jimmy with one empty hand out in front of him, like he was waiting for a handshake from someone invisible. He hadn't noticed me watching him, and after a moment of intense concentration, he jerked his arm quickly like he was trying to shake something out of his sleeve. Lo and behold, a card fell out. He tried to catch it between his fingers, but he missed, and instead it fluttered to the floor.

"Argh!"

"Honey." Jimmy's head snapped up to look at me as soon as I spoke. "What are you doing?"

"It's this card trick thing... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading."

I shook my head, turning on the couch to face him more fully.

"It's okay. What card trick thing?"

"You remember that guy I told you about? Scott Lang?"

"The ant guy? Yeah."

"Well, the last time I checked in on him, he did this card trick where he just made a card appear in his hand, like out of nowhere. It was actually really cool, so... I've been trying to teach myself how to do it."

I stared at Jimmy for a minute, processing. He stared back. Finally, I smiled.

"Okay. Let me help."

"Really?"

"Yeah." I stood from the couch, strecthing a little before walking around to join my husband. "I need a break from all the bad decisions the main character's making in my book, anyway. Let's learn some couples closeup magic."

*****************

I'd assumed it would be a fairly easy trick to learn. Don't ask me why, but I just figured it would take us maybe an hour, tops, and we'd both be making cards appear and disappear like pros. That was very much not how it went.

A few hours after I'd first noticed Jimmy practicing, we were still watching videos and trying to do the trick slowly, quickly, and everything in between with no luck. Technically, we were doing a little better than when Jimmy had first started, but the trick was still escaping both of us.

I watched carefully as Jimmy tried to do it again, and to me, it looked perfect. But the card still dropped to the floor instead of sliding smoothly into his hand.

Jimmy sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked up at me.

"What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong! That should've worked! What the fuck is it with this trick?"

Jimmy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to pick up the card again.

"I'm glad you decided to help me. I was getting pretty frustrated, but seeing how much more frustrated it's making you is weirdly making me calm."

I huffed and crossed my arms. "Glad I could help. But seriously, I feel like you're doing everything right. I can't tell what's wrong, or why it's not working."

"It has to be the finger movement," he said, setting up the card again. "I'm fumbling it when I'm obviously not supposed to."

"Frankly, I'm not convinced it's possible to pull this trick off without fumbling the card. Are you sure that Lang guy wasn't messing with you?"

Jimmy laughed again. "Pretty sure, but I guess you never know."

I just sighed as Jimmy prepared to try the trick again. I watched, but not as carefully as before. I'd been looking for some clue as to where we were going wrong for hours now, and hadn't been able to find it. Maybe it was just going to take a lot more practice, no matter how we tried to do it.

Jimmy took a deep breath, then extended his hand. I didn't see the card move, but suddenly, it appeared in his hand. Nowhere near the floor. Exactly how the trick was supposed to work.

"OH MY GOD!" I shouted, jumping up in the air the moment the shock wore off. Jimmy grinned, laughing in disbelief as he stared at the card in his hand. I didn't give him much time to savor it before tackling him with a hug. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!"

Jimmy laughed again, absolutely joyous, as he wrapped his arms around me. I pulled back a moment later, just enough to kiss him. After all that work and frustration over the past few hours, it felt amazing to see him pull off the trick perfectly.

After a moment, the two of us calmed down slightly, taking a step apart even though the gigantic grins were still on our faces. Jimmy's had more of a lopsided tilt to it, which made my heart race.

"...Do you think we're celebrating this a little too much?" he asked. I immediately shook my head.

"Hell no we're not. Do it again."

Jimmy took a deep breath, resetting the card and actually starting with his hand by his side this time. He lifted it, and in one smooth motion, the card appeared in his hand, extended towards me. I actually screamed, jumping up and down, and after a moment Jimmy joined me.

I pulled Jimmy in for another kiss, and when we finally broke apart, he was still giddy. He did the trick another few times in a row, and although he stumbled a little on one of the moves, the card still didn't hit the ground. He was getting smoother every time.

"This calls for a celebratory dinner," I decided. "I'll get something started, you grab some wine. We toast to the defeat of the magic trick that thought it could defeat us."

Jimmy laughed. "Sounds like a plan to me. Thanks for all your help. I can't wait to use that trick the next time I need to give somebody one of my cards."

"You know I'm always here for you, including and especially for stuff like this. No card trick, random guy you see at work, or Avengers-level threat can stop us."

"Damn right."

Jimmy grinned at me, and I leaned in for one last kiss before heading to the kitchen. Sometimes the smaller, less important victories felt the best, and one of my favorite things about my amazing husband was how willing he was to celebrate those moments with me.

Although, after all the time we'd spent today, this victory felt far from small.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

“This is beneath me,” Khonshu declared yet again, materializing on the bus seat across from Marc, “Since when does a venerated member of the Ennead, and therefore by extension his avatar, serve as a paladin for Loki’s brat bride?”

Marc pulled out his phone. Pretended to make a call. Held the phone to his ear and then spoke. “Since if it wasn’t for S.W.O.R.D. last month the clean-up in Cairo would’ve been more of a mess than it was.”

Khonshu bristled. “I don’t trust them.”

“We agree there. But all things considered, as far as S.W.O.R.D. calling in the favor I owe them, there could be worse asks. Besides, if there’s really a deranged godkiller out there, we need intel.”

“Resorting to lowly bureaucrats instead of finding the adversary yourself. No wonder she left yo--” 

“Ok talk to you soon!” Marc pretended to hang up and pushed Khonshu to the back of his mind. 

Any mention of Layla was a conversation-ender.  Khonshu was severely mistaken if he thought Marc was any more excited about guarding Loki’s ex-wife from another universe than he was, but if Marc was being honest, he could use a distraction. The two weeks since he’d signed the papers had been…rough. 

A calm, robotic female voice came over the bus’s loudspeaker and announced his stop. He stepped off the bus into an impossibly posh area of London. Funny how different areas of the city could be so starkly different they felt like separate worlds. 

The S.W.O.R.D. operative was waiting for Marc outside of Claridge’s as said he would be. 

“Agent Woo,” Marc greeted him. 

“Mister..?” Woo struggled with how to return the greeting, trying to determine who he was speaking to.

Marc watched him squirm for a moment or two, then put him out of his discomfort, “Spector. The other one has a British accent so thick it borders on hokey.” 

Sod off, Steven chimed from one of the polished window panes of the luxury hotel’s entryway. 

At least he counted you, Jake added. Marc was still grappling with the existence of another alter, and it was none of S.W.O.R.D’s business. 

“Oh, okay, thanks. Shall we?” Woo gestured to the door, eager to put his gaffe behind them.  

The two men made their way across the grand, bustling lobby. Marc had never been to the hotel, but it was more or less what he expected. Chandelier, black and white marble tiles, a sweeping staircase. 

“What am I walking into here?” Marc asked. When googling his charge, Sigyn, he hadn’t found much. He’d even consulted a few of Steven’s mythology books but they contained little more information about the Norse goddess. All Marc was working off of was, until recently, that she was the long-suffering wife of Loki, god of mischief and chaos, and that Sigyn was given the title of goddess of fidelity for her trouble. 

Woo called the elevator. “You read the brief?”

“Of course I read the brief,” Marc fired back. It had been frustratingly vague to his chagrin, but not to his surprise. Sigyn was a “variant”, a person who had come from another universe into theirs. In her dimension, she’d been married to Loki for centuries on Asgard and part of the ruling royal family. S.W.O.R.D. suspected that her universe’s Loki had gone rogue, conspiring with the entity who had been destroying gods across the multiverse. 

“She’s lovely,” Woo said as they got on the elevator. 

“Don’t bullshit me.” 

Woo deflated. “Her highness comes off as arrogant, imperious. Our psychiatrist says it’s because she’s still feeling vulnerable after her husband left her. We need her for intel obviously, but our team has lead on Gorr–”

“The godkiller” Marc interjected.

“Yes. Thor doesn’t want her to come. Our leadership agrees, it’s too risky. We can’t lose our two closest connections to Loki and Asgardian assets should the mission go south.” 

“So you called me to babysit rather than actually help you.”

“You are helping,” Woo insisted. “And your status as a consultant with us is delicate, Mr. Spector. S.W.O.R.D. is protecting you and your alter from several international authorities. Fail to keep the princess safe and perhaps we’ll reconsider.”

“Does she have the same affinity for lightning as her brother-in-law?” 

The elevator reached the top floor. 

“No, but like other Asgardians, she has increased strength and invulnerability, heightened senses and stamina, in addition to the Allspeak. She’s a practitioner of magic, but her skills are nowhere near Loki’s. She also tells us she can hold her own in a fight.”

“Hand-to-hand combat or with a weapon?” 

“Doesn’t matter. Under no circumstances is she to leave the premises of the hotel. We’d prefer if you two stayed in the suite at all times.” 

“Worse cages to be kept in,” Marc commented as they walked down the plush-carpeted hallway to what he guessed was a penthouse. 

“Tell that to her,” Woo muttered under his breath. 

The pair reached the door to the Asgardians’ suite. Two armed guards were posted outside. Marc stopped Woo before the agent could give the nod for entry to his colleagues. 

“Do I really have to call her your highness?”

“If she likes you she’ll let you call her Sigyn, she picked that up from Thor.”

“So you call her Sigyn.”  

Woo snorted. “Ha! No.”

With that, Woo motioned to the operatives and they opened the door. Six more guards and agents were inside from what he could see, and Marc could barely take in the elegance of the spacious and cream-colored suite before Thor stormed into its living area. He was in full battle guard: helmet, cape, and the massive axe that Marc always assumed was over-compensation for other “shortcomings”.

Hot on his heels was a woman adorned in a large gold helm of her own. Where Thor’s was winged on the sides, hers has two large semi-circles and a dazzling emerald inlaid in the center right above her brow. Though her respective cape was green - her husband’s color Steven clocked - she wore a glittering gold gown. Sigyn. 

The more Marc observed her, everything about Sigyn seemed gem-like. Long, honey-colored  tresses tumbled down her back, and her skin was fair but sun-kissed. A pair of sapphire-like blue eyes competed for brilliance with the emerald on her helmet. Her cheekbones were high, her lashes were long, her lips were full, and her build athletic.

Loki left her? What an idiot, Jake marveled. I’d chain her to my bed and live inside of her–

Marc blocked him out before Jake could finish the thought. 

Though you’ve got to admit, she certainly looks like a goddess, doesn’t she?

He turned away from Steven’s image in the mirrored cabinet behind the dining table across the room. Marc was a professional. Unlike his alters, he could handle being in the same room as a beautiful woman. He pulled himself out of his head, focusing on the argument unfolding in front of him.

“No one knows Loki like I do,” Sigyn asserted. 

Thor wasn’t convinced. “I’m his brother.” 

“Adopted brother. I’m his wife,” she countered. 

“Estranged wife,” Thor shot back just as quickly. He scrubbed a massive hand over his face. It was clear they’d had this dispute before. “I need you to stay here, Sigyn. You’ll get your crack at him, I swear it, but not yet. 

Thor spotted them before the princess could get another word in. “Oh brilliant! Your knight is here!” 

The Asgardian crossed to them quickly, his hurried gait betraying his desperation to change the subject. Sigyn glared at the trio of men with disdain. She may have only married into royalty, but it appeared to Marc that Sigyn definitely had her imperial sneer down. 

“Cut the cow dung, brother. You mean my nanny.” She narrowed her gaze onto Marc. Everyone else in the room followed suit. 

Sigyn’s stare was withering. Was he supposed to bow? “Don’t you dare”, Khonshu protested. 

Marc offered his hand instead. “Marc Spector…your highness.” 

Sigyn didn’t take his hand. The princess’s face gave away nothing. Instead, she looked at Thor expectantly. 

“Lord Spector, allow me to introduce you to her royal highness Princess Sigyn of Asgard.” 

“Thanks but um, I’m not a lord.” 

Thor was thrown. “You’re a knight, aren’t you?” 

“I’m the avatar of the Egyptian god, Khonshu. Moon Knight is a title but I don’t have subjects or anything.”

Sigyn groaned. “Norns”. She swept out of the living area into what must have been a bedroom, making sure to slam the door behind her. 

Thor broke the subsequent awkward silence. 

“So now you’ve met my sister,” he sent the other men a conciliatory smile. “Technically, we’re not siblings, or really in-laws even, but she’s fast become the younger sister I never had, you know?”

“Sure,” Marc offered. 

“I’m an only child,” Agent Woo blurted. 

“Anyway, Marc, I was hoping to see Khonshu! It’s been a literal eternity since I’ve seen that crazy old bird!” Thor scanned the room.“Is he here?”

Marc glimpsed Khonshu in his periphery shaking his head. “Not now, no,” he lied. “The Ennead relocated to the Overvoid, so it’s complicated to–”

“We need to go,” a female voice tinged with an eastern European accent interrupted him. A smaller blonde woman entered in tactical gear. “Is the Princess Bride taken care of?” 

“Yes!” Thor exclaimed. “Marc Spector, Yelena Belova.” 

Yelena shook Marc’s hand. “You’re Sigyn’s personal detail?” he nodded. “You poor son of a bitch.”

“I’ve been a mercenary for over a decade, I think I can handle a catty space princess.” 

“Exactly! You’re the best there is,” Thor pulled Marc close to him. The Asgardian lowered his tone, “She’s been through a lot as of late. First her husband leaves her and then she’s transported to a different realm, in an entirely different universe where they were never wed, not to mention he’s dead here too.”

“I get it. Sort of. I got divorced recently.” Marc had no idea why he said it. Did he drink and fight about the split from Layla? Yes. But talk about it? Never. 

“Great!” The god of thunder caught himself. “It’s not great, I’m sorry, though perhaps you wanted to get divorced? Who am I kidding? Breakups are always hard. Well, they are for me, you seem like the stoic type. But it is great you two have something in common.”

The suite had nearly emptied. Before Thor followed suit, he went to Sigyn’s closed door and knocked. No answer. 

“Seeg? We’re leaving.” Still no response. Thor tried another tactic. “They may come here, you know. That’s why we need you and Marc to stay behind.” 

Sigyn’s reply came in the form of a pillow being hurled at Thor’s face that sailed through a gold hole in the top half of the door that disappeared as swiftly as it materialized.  

Bloody hell, Steven marveled at the casual use of magic. 

Thor remained undeterred, shouting “I love you, sister!” before he took his leave. 

Agent Woo headed for the door too, clapping Marc on the shoulder. “She’s all yours.”  

Marc stopped him. “Wait, you’re not staying?” 

“I thought you read the brief! It clearly outlined that this is an all-hands-on-deck situation, which is why we called you. Plus, I'm pretty sure she despises me. The door guards stay. Charge whatever you need to the room. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Less than a minute later, the room was deserted. Marc approached Sigyn’s door. He tried knocking and calling for her, but she remained non-responsive. 

“She didn’t climb out the window, did she?” 

“The princess is still here,” Khonshu assured him before adding “unfortunately.” 

“Might as well make the best of it.” 

Marc wasted no time flopping onto the couch that probably cost more than his last car, ordering room service, and several putting pay-per-view fights on S.W.O.R.D’s tab. If he was lucky, Sigyn would stay holed up in the bedroom until everyone came back. 

Those hopes were dashed ninety minutes later when the princess emerged from her bedroom and padded into the living room. No longer in her ceremonial battle armor, Sigyn wore a simple ivory linen dress. Marc turned off the TV reflexively when she entered the room. 

Sigyn studied him, her eyes inquisitive and piercing. “You’re the Moon Knight?”

“Just Moon Knight. No ‘the’. Fuck it, just call me Marc.” 

“But there’s another man that lives within you.” 

“Yes.” 

“What’s his name?” 

“Steven.”

Sigyn nodded, digesting the information. Marc was surprised to see there were no traces of wariness or distaste on her face, simply curiosity. 

“And you both serve Khonshu?”

“I do more than he does.” 

Wouldn’t at all if it were up to me, Steven remarked, his face warped in the silver of the serving cover that the room service had been delivered under. 

“I’d like to apologize for my behavior earlier. I made a rather terrible first impression.”

“Don’t mention it. Thor told me what you’re dealing with right now.” 

An exasperated sigh escaped past Sigyn’s plump lips, “I wish he hadn’t. He treats me as if I were made of glass, it drives me mad.” 

“He cares about you.” 

She softened slightly. “It’s all too easy to forget he's not actually the brother I’ve spent the last however many years with. Otherwise he’d know.” 

“Know what?”

“That I am not a fragile, helpless princess that needs your protection, Marc.” 

He stood, went to her. Marc fought to ignore the intoxicating scent of jasmine that flooded his nostrils when he crowded his space to test her. “Oh yeah? So why haven’t you given me the slip then? 

Her sapphire eyes turned hungry. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Sigyn chuckled. She lifted her chin in an attempt to make up for the inch or so Marc had her height-wise. “You remind me of my husband. Ex-husband.” 

“Ouch,” he replied with faux hurt. 

“You strike me as a man who doesn’t take well to authority,” she explained, “so are you really going to listen to those puny Midgardian peons and keep us confined to this room?”

Marc smirked at her, but he didn’t answer Sigyn. This was a game he could play. And win.

“Perhaps you really are only a knight in name, hmm? Especially if you’re afraid of protecting a superior being who received her combat training from Odin’s elite Crimson Hawks.”

It was Marc’s turn to chuckle. She was goading him, trying to use reverse psychology. He leaned in close, hovered his lips millimeters from her ear. “Nice try.” 

Marc stepped back from her and returned to the couch. Clicked the TV back on. Before he could resume the boxing match he’d been watching, Sigyn followed him to the couch.

“Merely my only opening gambit. I’d caution you trying to play mind games with me, Marc. I was married to the god of mischief for a very long time.” 

“Sweetie, you have no idea who you’re dealing with.” 

“It’s your highness.” 

That’s it, give me the body! Jake demanded. I’m going to bend her over and–

Marc did his best to retain control of the body and cover any signs from bleeding onto his face as he stared Sigyn down. 

Khonshu didn’t make it any easier, “For once I agree with the ruffian.” 

“Marc?” 

“Yeah”

“Are you well?” 

“Never better,” he pivoted immediately. “Cards on the table, I only agreed to this because I want to know more about the godkiller–”

“Godbutcher.” 

“Excuse me?”

“He calls himself the Godbutcher”. 

“That’s a hell of a name to give yourself,” Marc mused. “Who has he butchered so far?” 

“We don’t know how many. I’ve overheard that some members of the Greek pantheon were victims. Thor refuses to tell me anything more, which means he’s afraid.” 

“Where were they going?” 

“You believe they’d tell me?”

“No I don’t, but you’re too savvy to wait to be told,” Marc pressed. “You must know something.”

The television remote flew from the table into Sigyn’s hand. She turned off the TV. “Take me to dinner and I’ll tell you all that I know. I hear the restaurant downstairs is fabulous.” 

“So you can be closer to an exit and lose me in a crowd? I don’t think so.” 

“I genuinely haven’t the faintest idea where they went,” she averred. “If I did, we likely wouldn’t be able to follow them anyhow since you don’t have the tech, nor I the magic to traverse the multiverse.” 

“They’re traveling inter-dimensionally?” 

“That’s the most I was able to glean.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I have been locked in these rooms for nearly four days and I am going mad,” Sigyn confessed, her eyes locked with Marc’s so he could see the truth in them. 

“The restaurant downstairs,” he agreed. Sigyn’s face lit up. “That’s it though.”

“Of course,” she flit back to her room. 

“I should have claimed Layla for my next avatar when I had the chance,” Khonshu lamented. Marc turned to face him. “You don’t use the head on your shoulders to negotiate.”

“Keep her out of your craven attempts to control me,” Marc fired back. “I’m containing Sigyn so you can go find where Thor and S.W.O.R.D. went to.” 

Khonshu cocked his skull, impressed. “Perhaps you’re not as useless as I thought.” 

The god vanished and Marc snuck over to Sigyn’s bedroom, listening through the door. She was on the phone. 

“Under Sigyn Odi–-Sigyn Frodisdottir please. No, the private dining room won’t be necessary.” 

Marc’s notion of Sigyn trying to lose him among the hotel guests wasn’t unfounded after all it seemed. He was taken aback by how gracious the princess was, however. There wasn’t a trace of the haughtiness in her tone that she’d spoken to Marc or the S.W.O.R.D agents with. 

Sigyn continued with who Marc guessed was the concierge, “I was curious if your personal shopper might be available? Wonderful! One minute, I’ll ask him–”

Her footsteps got closer and Marc launched himself through the hallway to resume his position on the couch before the door opened. When Sigyn appeared, Marc was tapping away on his phone, pretending he’d been there the entire time. 

She handed him the receiver. “The shopper requires your measurements.” 

“I thought we were just going to dinner?”

“Not with you dressed like that.”

Marc rolled his eyes. So much for Sigyn abandoning her royal airs. She retreated to her room once more and left Marc with the phone. 

He put the phone to his ear. “Don’t make me look like a douche, alright?”

*** 

It’s official. You definitely look like a douche, Jake mocked Marc’s reflection as he straightened his tie in the suite’s spare bedroom. 

I think we look sharp, Steven offered. 

“Fuck it,” Marc took off the tie and tossed it on the bed. He undid the top three buttons of the hideously expensive shirt the Claridge’s personal shopper got him instead. Sigyn would deal. 

Marc called for her, “We gotta go! You said seven, right?”

“A moment more!” Came the princess’s muffled reply through the door. 

He waited for her in the living room. Caught his reflection again on the TV screen. 

“I do look like a douche.” 

Sigyn’s door opened before Marc could change back to the clothes he arrived in. Her hair was artfully piled atop her head, exposing the golden skin of Sigyn’s shoulders since the deceptively simple, short black dress she wore didn’t leave much to the imagination. 

“Don’t clean you up well.” She remarked as she approached him. 

It took Marc a moment to acknowledge that she was speaking to him. He was a professional, but this wasn’t an impetuous princess before him. Dressed in earthly clothes, Sigyn was simply a knockout. He liked this version of her better. The golden helmet and cape and shimmering gown were unnecessary adornments to her beauty. 

Jake and Steven immediately, simultaneously, demanded control of the body. It felt as if four fists were pounding on his skill from the inside. Marc didn’t blame them, but there was also no way in hell they were going to ruin the delicate connection he’d forged with Sigyn.

Who do you think you’re kidding? Jake scoffed. You want first dibs on fucking her.

Sigyn’s hand cautiously touched his arm, snapping Marc out of his thoughts. 

“Marc? Can you hear me?” Her brow was furrowed in concern. The strappy heels she wore gave her the height advantage now. 

“Yeah,” he said, “yes. Sorry.” 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.” 

“No, I want to,” the words left Marc’s lips without permission. _Get it together Spector, _he thought, it’s like you’ve never seen a pair of tits before. He needed to backpedal. “I mean, we had a deal.”

Sigyn grinned. “Shall we then?” 

The restaurant was dark and enveloping in its design - aubergine walls, low lighting, velvet seats. A singer and her small band occupied one of the corners; her sultry voice suited the ambiance of the establishment well as she serenaded its patrons. 

Marc wasted no time ordering the most expensive champagne on the menu to spite S.W.O.R.D. Once the waiter departed from the table, he got right to it. 

“So the godbutcher.”

A nervous laugh escaped Sigyn. She fidgeted, and even in the dim lighting, Marc could tell the princess was blushing. “In Asgard we usually wait for the first course before we discuss the matter at hand, Mister Spector.” 

Marc readied a retort until he caught Sigyn's fingers unconsciously drifting to her left ring finger, as if to twirl a wedding band, only to remember a moment too late it was bare. 

That’s when it occurred to him. She may be considered a goddess, but Sigyn was clearly a profoundly lonely woman. Not only had she been forsaken by her husband, as morally ambiguous as he was, she was on a strange planet in a completely different universe from hers with men in suits keeping her cooped up in a gilded cage. Why else would she not have escaped from the suite and insisted Marc dress up and take her dinner? 

He understood how she felt. All too well. But before Sigyn’s plight could truly tug on his heartstrings, Marc shut it down. He could work with this. Sigyn wanted the boyfriend experience? Marc would give her the boyfriend experience and get what he needed. 

Better give me the body, Steven entreated, only his eyes visible on the thin blade of Marc’s butterknife. You’re a bit too gruff to deliver the boyfriend experience, aren't you? 

“Shut up,” Marc whispered. 

Sigyn had heard. “Beg your pardon?” 

“Nothing,” he covered. “And I’m sorry your highness, you’re right, it was inappropriate of me to ask you right away.”

“I shouldn’t expect a Midgardian to observe the customs of a realm to which he’s never been,” she admitted. “Please call me Sigyn.”

Marc smiled a wolfish grin. He was in. 

“Nevertheless, I wish to know more about my enigmatic sentry.”

“Not much to know,” Marc deflected. His response was an automatic defense mechanism. Don’t let anyone get close, or let them learn anything they could use against him. Yet he knew he needed to give Sigyn something if he was going to coax anything useful out of her. “From Chicago, that’s in America. Do you know America? It’s um, across the-”

“I’ve heard of America,” she reassured him. 

“Served in the military which led me to mercenary work which led me into the service of Khonshu.” There. That was something.

Sigyn giggled as their waiter brought their champagne. “You say it with such simplicity.” 

“Yeah well, something tells me you’re a lot more interesting,” Marc countered.

“Is that so?” 

“You’re very different with me than you were with your brother and S.W.O.R.D.” he remarked.  

“Because you don’t look at me with pity,” Sigyn explained. “In their eyes I’m the silly, stupid woman who married the evil god because she didn’t know any better. Whereas they all saw this coming lightyears away apparently, and regard me as if I didn’t know my husband after centuries of marriage.”

“I get it,” Marc told her, making sure to catch her gaze. “I really do.”

Sigyn didn’t know what or how to ask about Marc’s…condition, so she stayed silent and took a sip of her champagne instead. 

Marc followed her line of sight to the band. A few couples had taken to the small dance floor in front of the musicians. Sigyn watched them with equal parts wonder and wistfulness. 

“Do you dance on Asgard?” 

“Yes but not like this,” Sigyn kept her eyes on the dancers. “Here it looks to be about two people merely being close to each other. On Asgard, it’s much more formal, impersonal even. The first time I met Loki he asked me to dance.” 

“Did he?” 

“I could hardly believe it.”

“Why?” When Sigyn looked at Marc in confusion, he elaborated, “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

Sigyn flushed, a mix of the alcohol and the compliment.

“My entire childhood, my mother’s complete focus was getting Thor to wed my elder sister. Which if I’m honest, I learned not to mind, since it meant I could do what I like, court who I wanted. But the shock on her face when she discovered that a prince had asked little Sigyn to dance instead of her prized Astrid,” her expression darkened, “It’s probably why I stayed with him after the shock at the wedding.’

“What do you mean?”

“The night Loki danced with me I was already betrothed to a friend of my brothers’, a fellow Crimson Hawk. Theoric. We were madly in love and Loki could see that. So he arranged for Theo to be killed in battle and posed as him. Odin married us, and it was only after we had sealed our vows that he revealed who I had actually pledged eternity to.” 

“Fuck” was all Marc could muster in response. Sigyn sent him a wan smile.

“Odin was enraged, marriage was binding but no one ought to be wed under false pretenses. So he offered me the goddess of fidelity. And I suppose because of all the resentment I harbored for my mother, I accepted. Yet I grew to love it - both my husband and my role. Odin and Frigga had begun to send me on my own diplomatic envoys before…” she swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing, “before all of this happened.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sigyn blinked away a tear. “Tremendous. Now you pity me too.” 

“I never said that.” 

Sigyn took another sip of her champagne. The band began a new song, the bass and strings made for an enticing mix. 

“Dance with me,” Marc said. 

“Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Sigyn.”

“I don’t wish to anymore.”

Marc stood. Reached out his hand. 

“Stand up.“ It wasn’t a request. At last, Sigyn obeyed. 

Who knew her highness is just as good at taking orders as she is giving them, Jake noted as Marc led them to join the few couples already dancing. 

Somewhere in the middle 

Think I lied a little 

Sigyn was a quick study as to where to place her hands, fighting to ensure that her face wouldn't betray just how good it felt to grip Marc’s hard but warm flesh under her hands, and the two were sidestepping together in no time. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

I know that I seem a little stressed out 

But you’re here now 

And you’re turning me on

Marc ignored how intoxicating Sigyn’s closeness was and focused on how to get more information out of her. It was clear she was feeling vulnerable, he needed to meet her where she was at. 

“I got divorced. Recently.”

Sigyn’s eyes found Marc’s, open and compassionate. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” he shrugged, “but know I do get what you’re going through.” 

Put my mind at ease 

Pretty please 

“At least with my ex-wi—with Layla, things were pretty cut and dry as to why. I couldn’t be there for her, I couldn’t protect her, now she’s mixed up in the same shit as I am” Marc shared. “But what I can’t figure out is why Loki would leave you to team up with someone who wants you all dead.” 

“Because he wants a throne,” Sigyn answered simply. “He’s always wanted a realm of his own to rule over. I suppose he believes allying himself with Gorr will not merely dispose of Thor but all deities who would challenge him.”

“But Gorr would kill him-“

“Not if Loki double-crosses him first,” Sigyn pointed out. 

She knows how he thinks, Marc noted to himself, the song’s dulcet melody filling the silence. 

If we take it further I swear I ain’t gonna break 

So baby come try me 

“But what do I know? Things had been comfortable, content between us. This could just as easily be his latest and arguably his grandest act of self-sabotage,” Sigyn mused. “A subject you seem well-acquainted with, no?” 

“Dinner, dancing, and head-shrinking? You really know how to show a guy a good time, your highness.” 

“Tell me Marc, did Layla ever say she required your protection?” 

He bristled, refusing to reply.

“I don’t know her—“

“Yeah, you don’t.”

“But I’d venture that Layla, if she married you, hardly wanted, let alone needed, your protection.”

Marc’s grip tightened on Sigyn’s waist but he said nothing. They continued to dance in silence as the band moved into a new song. 

Too much time, losing track of us

Where was the real?

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Loki left you to protect you from what he felt he had to do?” 

“A noble thought.” The same pained smile spread across Sigyn’s lips. “But you don’t know my husband.” 

“I don’t,” he conceded, “but if our paths cross, I’ll be sure to kick his ass.” 

“By all means. If there’s anything left after I’m finished with him, that is.”

Marc laughed, instinctively holding Sigyn closer, their lips millimeters apart. The air seemed to crackle around them. 

Is it just our bodies? 

Are we both losing our minds?

Instead of bringing his mouth to hers, Marc turned his face to murmur into Sigyn’s ear. “How about we get out of here?” 

She shook her head. “Take me upstairs.” 

Is the only reason you’re holding me tonight ‘cause we’re scared to be lonely?  

Marc didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the song came to an end, he escorted Sigyn off of the dance floor and out of the restaurant. With the way the waitstaff was fawning over the princess, he figured they’d know to put their meal on S.W.O.R.D.’s tab. 

They crossed the expansive lobby with Marc’s arm around Sigyn’s waist, but not daring to do anything more. The wait for the elevator was excruciating, he could already feel himself beginning to grow hard, but all bets were off when the larger metallic doors closed behind them. 

Their lips crashed together with a surprising amount of force, finally no longer denying their desire for each other. Sigyn’s hands gripped either side of Marc’s face, while his hands found purchase on her hips, walking her blindly back into the wall of the elevator, pressing his hard-on against her. 

A throaty moan escaped Sigyn’s mouth in between harsh, hungry kisses when she felt Marc’s erection against her hip. She grinded against him, savoring the friction, detaching their lips to whisper, “Is that all for me, Moon Knight?” 

He mouthed at her neck, encircling each of her wrists in his hands, pinning them to the wall, “Shut up.” 

Sigyn acquiesced with a giggle that suddenly morphed in a moan when Marc bit down on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. 

The elevator doors opened to their floor with a high chime. The pair stumbled out and disconnected, Marc adjusting his jacket to try and hide his boner while Sigyn smoothed out her dress, both aware that there were still two guards posted at the other end of the hallway outside the suite. 

“Your highness,” they greeted them, opening the door for Sigyn and Marc. 

She smiled and acknowledged the guards with a nod, hoping her eyes telegraphed Sigyn’s gratitude for not commenting on their appearances. 

As soon as the door closed behind them in the suite, the two launched themselves at each other once more. This time Marc’s hands went straight under the hem of Sigyn’s dress to her ass and lifted the princess into his arms. 

“I should fuck you against the door so they can hear,” Marc growled. 

“Naughty,” Sigyn played with the hair at the nape of his neck, “spread me out on the bed first.” 

Marc obliged, carrying her into the bedroom, and depositing Sigyn on the bed with a toss. She laid back amongst the pillows, separating her legs to give Marc a glimpse of the scrap of black lace covering her as he stripped off his shirt and toed off his loafers. 

“Turn around,” he ordered. 

Sigyn did so, and Marc unzipped her dress and slid it down her shoulders, kissing every newly exposed notch of her back as he went. He slipped off her stilettos and pushed the black fabric down her hips, Marc’s mouth watering when Sigyn’s full, toned ass came into view. He snapped the strap of her flimsy thong against her golden skin, earning a shiver from Sigyn.

“This ass,” he groaned as he pulled Sigyn’s back flush with his front. Marc snaked his hands up her taut abdomen, then cupped her breasts in his large hands. 

“Marc,” she mewled as he resumed his attack on her neck. 

He teased her nipples, pinching them. “What do you want?”

She answered him by slithering out of his grasp and twisting back around on the bed, sitting back on her heels. Sigyn’s hands went straight to Marc’s belt, undoing the strip of leather and unzipping his fly. She reached inside, taking his massive, insistent bulge in hand through Marc’s boxer-briefs, squeezing him through the fabric.

“Fuck,” he grunted. 

Sigyn withdrew only to pull his pants and underwear down, Marc aiding her and by kicking them off. He stood before her in all of his glory, and a wicked, satisfied glint flashed in Sigyn’s eyes when she was able to take in Marc’s member without any obstruction. She bit her lip unconsciously - he was uncut and thick. An errant thought danced through her mind —she owed her sort-of brother-in-law an apology and her heartiest gratitude for pairing them together. 

Concentrating back on the task before her, Sigyn pumped Marc a few times, climbed off the bed, and knelt before him. She brought her lips to his head tracing the shape of her mouth before laving kitten licks up his length. 

Marc gazed down at Sigyn through hooded lids as his cock slipped between her lips and she bobbed up and down. He rested a hand on the back of Sigyn's head, guiding her eager mouth along the length of his dick. Shit she was good at this. 

Well, she is a thousand-year-old goddess, Steven pointed out, probably had loads of time to practice. 

The last thing Marc wanted to do was think about Sigyn with another man, the thought prompted him to begin thrusting into the warm, wet suction of the princess’s mouth. She moaned. 

C’mon, fuck her mouth, Jake urged in Steven’s absence. 

As if she could read their thoughts, Sigyn grasped onto the globes of Marc’s ass and pulled him deeper. His eyes rolled back in his head as she proceeded to deep throat him. Did Asgardians not have gag reflexes? 

Marc could feel his orgasm creeping up on him. He pulled himself from between Sigyn’s plush lips, but the princess looking up at him with her wide sapphire orbs and glistening pout was nearly enough to undo Marc. 

“Wanna come in your pussy,” he offered as an explanation, lifting Sigyn to her feet and pushing back onto the bed again. This time, he covered her body with his, Marc’s hand slipping down to her underwear, toying with Sigyn’s clit through the lace. 

She let out a breathy cry, both relieved and riled up that her core was getting some much-needed attention. Marc’s dexterous fingers continued playing with her while another slipped between her folds, earning another keen from the princess. He proceeded to rip the thong clean off her body and redouble his efforts by thrusting two fingers inside of Sigyn. She canted her hips to meet his strokes, just as hungry for this as he was. 

“Sigyn,” he murmured. 

“Hgggnnn,” came her incredibly coherent reply. 

“We need protection.” 

Her eyes popped open, her brow creasing. “From what?”

“Sexually transmitted diseases,” he explained, “and pregnancy.” 

“Our kind can’t contract any diseases from yours,” she panted. Marc hadn’t ceased his ministrations and hit a particularly delectable spot inside of her. “And I take a – um, tincture. F-f-for contraception.” 

His thumb drew circles around her clit. “Fuck me already, Marc,” she demanded. 

Marc was all too eager to acquiesce. He withdrew his fingers from Sigyn, inserting them into her eager mouth while he lined himself up with her dripping core. Sigyn licked Marc’s digits clean, treating him to more insistent, needy moans as he ran the head of his cock through her wetness. 

At last Marc sank into Sigyn’s tight cunt. She felt just as heavenly as he’d imagined she would, her walls clinging to his shaft in a vice-like grip, encouraging him to sheath himself further. 

As Marc pulled out to thrust back in deeper, Sigyn wrapped an arm around his neck and brought their mouths together once again. They collided in a mess of teeth and tongues, Sigyn breaking the liplock only when Marc picked up the pace of his hips, her neck thrashing to the side. 

It felt as though Marc was consuming her, spearing her apart with his thick girth, and she loved it. What they shared felt more primal than her lovemaking with Loki had been as of late. Sex was a tactic or carefully calculated move in the chess game that her marriage had become, with Marc it seemed that they needed each other equally as badly, and for the same reason. To forget someone else. 

And with a face like that and the way Marc pistoned his fat cock into her, Sigyn had no problem with forgetting everything except the stretch in her pussy, Marc’s dark, unflinching gaze, and the pair of bulging biceps that held her wrists above her head. 

“You’re so strong,” Sigyn exhaled. 

Marc grunted a reply, continuing to hammer into her. 

“But so am I,” Sigyn smirked as broke free of his grasp, flipping them over so she was on top. She canted her hips and pinned Marc’s wrists just as he had hers, a devilish grin playing across her kiss-bruised lips.

Despite the hot thrill that raced down Marc’s spine at having a partner who could match his strength and the view of Sigyn’s tits bouncing in time with his thrusts, he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Marc rolled them over again, splaying Sigyn back on the bed. He hooked the backs of her knees in the bends of his elbows to spread her legs wider and pounded in deeper. 

Sigyn threw her head back against the bed’s downy comforter. “Norns, Marc, yes.” 

But Marc was unable to shake the idea of fucking the Asgardian against the wall. He collected her in his arms and carried her to the wall opposite the bed. Sigyn’s breath hitched when Marc re-entered her and resumed his punishing pace. She clenched around him even harder, relishing the contrast between the rigid, polished wood paneling at her back and Marc’s searing flesh, damp with sweat, pressing into her front. 

Marc was unrelenting in his assault on Sigyn’s pussy, driving his hips into her, earning a hybrid of a moan and shriek when the tip of his cock found her g-spot. He focused there with his thrusts, swallowing Sigyn’s cries and moans as he impaled her. Though initially Marc has wanted the guards to hear just how well he was fucking her royal highness, he’d changed his mind. Now he wanted all of Sigyn’s sweet little sounds for himself. 

Particularly sweet was the sound of slick slap on skin-on-skin from where they were joined. “Do you hear that?” Marc asked her, his voice gravel. It sent another shudder through Sigyn. “You’re so wet for me baby, you gonna come on my cock?” 

Sigyn pulled Marc closer to her, digging her manicured nails into the thick muscles of his traps. “Make me.” 

The Asgardian’s challenge spurred Marc to redouble his efforts, holding Sigyn up with his pistoning hips and only one arm, the other shooting straight down to her clit. He rubbed rough, persistent circles into the nub, prompting Sigyn’s cunt to clench around him so tightly he could barely thrust. 

Marc didn’t mind though, he ground his hips into hers and continued his stream of filthy goading, “You like that? ‘Cause I love the way your tight cunt is squeezing me. Come on, cream on my cock baby.”

Sigyn snapped with a loud, unprincess-like wail as she came, her pussy spasming around Marc’s hot length inside her. Her orgasm rushed like a roaring flame through her veins, her nails digging so deep into Marc’s shoulders she nearly drew blood. Marc didn’t stop grinding his dick into her core as Sigyn came, prolonging her release as he chased his. She didn’t know how long it took for the blinding euphoria to settle, but when Sigyn regained coherence Marc was still frantically fucking into her. 

Despite the oversensitivity beginning to set into her groin, Sigyn tightened around his pulsing dick again and urged him on, “Marc, wanna feel you.” 

That did it - not a moment later was Marc painting her walls with his hot seed. He slammed his free hand against the wall and his chest vibrated with a deep groan as he emptied himself inside of Sigyn, the climax so good he could forget about Khonshu, his divorce, and the impending threat of the Godbutcher, if only for a moment. 

Marc gathered the remains of his strength and walked them back over to the bed, his softening cock still inside Sigyn. This time he lay her on the now mussed duvet much more gingerly, and extracted himself from her just as carefully. 

They lay beside each other, looking into each other’s eyes for the right thing to say. This was so not how Marc thought tonight would go when he got the call from Agent Woo, but he was not complaining. 

Marc spoke first. “How do you feel?” 

Sigyn smiled - not an imperious smirk, nor the grin she used to mask her pain when talking about Loki. A genuine, unguarded smile. “Very good.” 

“Just very good?” Marc scoffed with mock offense.

“Very very good,” Sigyn assured him with a kiss. “Wonderful, even. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Marc found it too easy to get lost in Sigyn’s eyes. “I am famished, though.” 

“You did work up quite the appetite, Mister Spector,” Sigyn remarked. She sat up, pushing herself off of the bed. “Order us something, I’m going to clean up.” 

What a gentleman you are, Steven fumed, leaving her to fend for herself as soon as you’re finished. 

Marc sat up as well, eschewing firing back at Steven that he barely wasn’t a virgin anymore, and grabbed Sigyn’s wrist as she headed toward the en-suite. “I can get you–”

“It’s no trouble,” she told him. She gestured to her now thoroughly wrecked updo. “Besides I should tend to this.”

“Wait, let me…” Marc slid his fingertip along the inside of Sigyn’s thigh where his release had trickled out of her. She bent over obediently and sucked it clean, making Marc’s spent cock twitch in a valiant attempt to harden again so soon.

He enjoyed the view of the naked princess traipsing into the bathroom, then grabbed the in-room phone.

 Part 2