#imagine loki

You were only entertaining the thought because Mobius was your friend and he wasn’t in the business of lying. As you thought on the information, Loki filled your vision once more.

“Think about it, that ring you wear. Where did it come from?” The trickster asked.

You glanced down at your hand and stared at the adorned band around your finger.

“I- I don’t know. It was given to me by someone special. He said it was like a piece of his-”

“His heart on your hand.” Loki whispered and when you looked up at him, he smiled. “Yes.”

“How did you know…”

“Because I said exactly that when I gave it to you.” Loki said, his voice was earnest and almost pleading.

What he was telling you didn’t make any sense - but it also made perfect sense. How could both be a truth? You stepped back and away from him. Another word from him might actually cause a break in your reality. So, you excused yourself and ran off to the library to think.

Loki looked at Mobius and noticed that he man was staring at him. “Something wrong?”

“No.” Mobius answered quickly. “It just baffles me that you loved them so much and you still insisted on revenge.”

~ More imagines here ~

You were expecting to see Loki when you opened your eyes but no. When you opened them you were met with the same sight, the three Norns suspending up in the air. You spin around to look back into the sitting room but you’re still met with an empty cottage. You turn back around to look back to the Norns. They’re just floating above a giant well, you shudder thinking about what could possibly be at the bottom.

You continue to look around but it wasn’t until then you realize that the cottage is literally inside of Yggdrasil. The rooms walls are covered in branches and leaves that crawl up and cover the entire ceiling, another peak to the sitting room shows the same.

You look back to the well and see part of the great tree’s trunk is just steps away on the opposite side of the great well. The threads of fate hang from its branches, you’re tempted to walk over and brush your hands through them because of how beautiful they were. A shining golden thread that looked like the smoothest silk, you just knew they would be the softest things you would ever touch. But the idea of literally running your fingers through the fates of everyone in the universe stops you.

You shake your head to refocus yourself, “Loki?”

“Y/N”

“Ahhh!”, you spin around, the sound of Loki saying your name sounded like he was right behind you. “Loki?! Where are you?”

“I’m here..just on the other side.”

“Ok..do you know how we can get them down?”, you ask, bringing your attention back to the Norns.

“Mina’s book. Do you have it?”

You spin around looking for Mina’s bag and see it laying by the front door. You rush over and scoop the bag up, running back to the room Loki is waiting to give you instruction. You throw the bag to the ground ripping it open to remove the book, throwing it open on the floor just like Mina had done many times over.

“OK, what am I looking for?” you ask nervously, feeling completely out of your depth. You were still getting used to your new strength but you had no magic abilities to speak of so the idea of looking for a spell to save the day is about to send you on a nervous breakdown.

“Lean over my heart.”

You lean over to the left and you swear you could feel Loki looking at his book from over your shoulder. So much so that you keep your face facing the direction you feel his presence in and close your eyes. Enjoying the feel of him.

You can hear the pages of the book in front of you flipping but you still don’t open your eyes until you hear Loki tell you to.

“There. This is the spell you will need to perform.”

“Me?! I can’t do that!”, you yell out, now facing the book, eyes wide open.

“You can.”, Loki’s voice comes through strong and confident.

You shake your head, staring down at the spell that might as well be in another language. “Loki I can’t. I don’t have magic like you and Mina do…”

Then you feel a solid presence behind you, the feeling of an arm wrapping around your midsection and then the feeling of a large hand on your stomach. “You are pregnant with my son My Fated. You. Are. Magic.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath and when you open your eyes you read the spell but this time you try to feed off of the feeling of confidence you get from Loki.

You take another deep breath and when you’re ready you recite the words on the page. As soon as the words start to leave your mouth you start to feel a tingling sensation on your palm and fingertips. You look down to your hands and you see a green glow coming from where you can feel the tingling. A jolt of fear shot through your heart that makes you stop reciting the spell but then you feel Loki’s presence around you again, giving you comfort from the other side. But another look at your hands show that they have stopped glowing green. Your moment of fear must have broken whatever hold you had on the spell.

“Breathe my fated one. Close your eyes and feel my magic coursing through your veins. Do not fear it. Embrace it.”

You do as Loki says and close your eyes, you concentrate on the power flowing through you and focus on controlling your breathing. You feel a slight pressure under both of your forearms, like Loki was lifting your arms up so your hands were now held out in front of you, towards the Norns.

You open your eyes and look down at the book. You start to read the words again and again your hands begin to glow green. But after a moment your hands stop glowing and you notice a slight tremor in your hands from fatigue. You let out a huff a frustration and slam your hands on the pages of the book, feeling completely useless.

“I can’t do this.”, tears are starting to well in your eyes. Your family needs you to do this and you just aren’t strong enough. 

“Y/N..My heart. Come on. I know you can do this. You are the strongest person I know.”

You shake your head and the tears fall, “I’m not.”

You feel what you imagine is Loki’s finger lifting your chin up.

“You are. I believe in you Y/N. Mina believes in you. If not for me do it for our babies. They need you to be the strong ASGARDIAN warrior that I know you to be. Come on My Fated.”

You close your eyes again to try and steady yourself. Once you feel the trembling in your arms and hands calm you take another deep breath, hold out your hands and begin again. Soon you see the glowing green and once again you start to feel the power inside of you start to drain.

No. You will not fail.

You continue your chant even as you see the green light from your hands start to flicker but then you had the silliest thought.

“Why is my magic green?”

Blue. Blue is the color your magic should be. Your favorite color. Loki’s true color.

As soon as the question passes through your mind your hands started to glow the brightest blue and it was in that moment you knew that you could do this. 

You stand to your feet, the words from the spell still leaving your lips and walk towards the Norns. You start to feel your legs shake and you quickly fall back to your knees but your hands remain held out in front of you. Sweat is starting to fall down your brow and tears are streaming down your face.

“That’s it Y/N. Just a little bit longer. Hold on just a little bit longer.”

You nod your head and give one final push of power, the room is illuminated with the blue light from your magic and then everything goes black.

——————————————————————————————————

Idunn’s arms are starting to shake from the strain of holding Gorr back, she can feel the sweat beading down her neck. But she couldn’t give up. If she did it would be the end of everything as they knew it. Gorr could not win.

“You are weakening Idunn..Soon you will be as powerless as the hags. Soon you will pay your debt and then..then it will be her turn.”

“Idunn! Let go!”

At the sound of Mina’s voice Idunn released her hold on her spell, finally able to take a breath after the onslaught of power coming from Gorr. She looked to her left and sees Mina now holding Gorr off with her own powerful spell but she too will soon weaken. 

A quick look to her right she sees Odin and Thor still being held off by Gorr’s spirits. A moment of despair rips through her but then a pair of yellow eyes peaking out from the dark woods gives her a beat of hope. 

Idunn stands, holds out her arms and pulls from her deep well of power, joining with Mina once again against Gorr. She hopes she can trust Yggdrassil’s forest cat to help them get through this. Her golden power joins Mina’s green, creating a powerful combination that almost knocks Gorr off of his feet but he quickly surges back with even more power. 

Around Idunn, she could hear some sounds of clashing weapons, Bastian with his powerful roar and the jolting sound of Gungnir releasing a blast of Odin’s power. She tries to bring her focus back to Gorr, but was suddenly pushed back, falling to her knees. It forces her connection to break, leaving Mina to stand up to Gorr alone. Idunn tries to get back to her feet but is immediately held down by Gorr’s spirits. One glance to the side shows that Thor, Odin and the Bastian have all been bested and are being held once again. 

“Ahh!”

Idunn looks back to Mina, the source of the scream and sees the young girl on her hands and knees. Gorr is slowly walking to stand over her. 

“I told you, child. It was nothing for me to remove your father and even the all powerful Norns. Do you truly believe you can best me? A child?! Ha!”

Gorr finally reaches a kneeling Mina and with a wave of his hand raises her off the ground. Her hands flying to her throat trying to pry away an invisible hold. 

“You are nothing. Your father was nothing. And I will be sure to erase his name from history. No one will know the name Loki..it will be as if he never existed. It’s a pity you just couldn’t accept your fathers fate, you have so much potential..”

Gorr closes his hand more and Mina looks as though the invisible hold he has on her neck has grown tighter. Mina’s vision starts to go blurry. All she can make out is Idunn struggling to get to her feet and the sounds of her uncle, grandfather and Bastian fighting their own hold against Gorr’s spirits.

Mina’s heart is beating frantically, despair slowly starts to creep in.

She failed.

And now she was going to die. Along with the rest of her family and it was all her fault.

“Mina!”

She hears her name and then the feeling of falling. It wasn’t until she hit the ground when she realized that the pressure around her neck had also disappeared. She takes in a few deep breathes in between the coughing but when she’s finally able to catch her breath she looks over to whoever shouted her name.

“Mom?”, Mina’s eyes open wide in surprise because not only is her mother standing at the top of the cottage steps looking white as a ghost, but behind her she sees the three women they have been on this journey to see. 

The Norns stand behind you, arms held out in front of them, directed towards Gorr. As you look out to the front lawn you see the spirits that Gorr was once able to control disappear. As soon as Thor is free he launches himself at Gorr slamming Mjolnir on the side of his head, knocking him to the ground. Odin was close behind, Gungnir in hand, pointed down at Gorr’s head, ready for him to make a move of attack.

Gorr tries to rise but Odin and Thor only allow him to his knees. The Norns move around you and walk down the steps of the cottage to a now fully kneeling Gorr. You take the opportunity to run to Mina but your body is still so weak from the spell you have to hold on to the banister as you make your way down.

Once you reach her you fall to your knees from exhaustion and relief, “Mina! Baby?! Are you ok?”, you ask her frantically, pushing her black hair out of her face.

Mina nods and you help her get to her feet. As soon as you get her standing you take her hand in yours and walk over to stand by Thor and Bastian to hear what the Norns have to say to Gorr.

“When will you learn Gorr? Have your past actions taught you nothing?”, Urd asks as she stands over the fallen villain.

“The only things that my actions have taught me is that I am getting closer and closer to the end of my mission. I have bested you once. What makes you think I will not do it again?”

“You assume you have a future to make the attempt.”, Skuld responds.

“Enough of this. Gorr, you have a debt to pay.”, Verdandi states as she raises her hand, Gorr’s body goes deathly still. “Come.” The three turn and walk back to the cottage as one, Gorr now suspended in the air can do nothing but helplessly float behind them.

You all follow behind, needing to see what the Norns had planned for punishment. They all walk to the room where the Norns were suspended above the well. All three in unison raise their hands and Gorr’s body floats above the well, similar to what he had done to the Norns themselves.

Urd steps forward to speak first, the elderly looking woman’s eyes shining white with her great power and wisdom. “You have made a grave mistake Gorr. You have attempted to take fate into your own hands. Attacking the Norns in our own home..in the most sacred of places..cutting the thread of one of our precious fated ones…”

“You have no right to decide the fate of anyone let alone the fate of every soul in the universe! You have no right to take what you have taken!”, Gorr screams from his suspended state.

“And who does Gorr? You? Do you even know what you have done by cutting Prince Loki’s thread?”, Verdandi steps forward to speak. You could tell she was beautiful when she was hanging upside down unconscious but awake and exuding power? She was mesmerizing. Her long golden hair and white gown make her look like an angel.

“Better than you three! You bring nothing but misery and loss to the world. All you do is take!”

“Take? You speak of taking things but what have you done since you began this war against the gods. Have you not taken?”

“I have only taken what those didn’t deserve to have…”

“That is not for you to decide Gorr. It never was. And now we will right what has been wronged.”

Gorr’s glowing eyes go wide with fear as the Norns raise their hands to the sky and begin to chant.

You place your arm around Mina’s shoulders and you could feel her shaking in your arms. 

This is it.

———————Asgard————————-

“My Queen!”, a healer rushes into Frigga’s sitting room.

“What is it child?”, Frigga stands from her seat, taking the young healers hands in hers.

“My Queen, you must come. Eir has sent me to bring you to Prince Loki’s body. Something is happening!”

Frigga opens a portal straight to where Loki’s body has been waiting for his final journey to Valhalla. She sees Eir and a half a dozen healers standing around his body.

“Eir?”

The head healer’s head snaps up to the call of her name, “Frigga. Come.”

Frigga moves to stand next to Eir but sees nothing that would’ve caused such distress from the young healer that brought her here. “What is it Eir?”

Eir grabs Frigga’s hand and places it on Loki’s chest. At first she feels nothing and then she feels a small spark under her palm.

She looks to Eir with confusion in her eyes.

Eir shakes her head but says nothing. They both look back to Loki wondering what could possibly be happening.

———————-Yggdrasil—————————

“What are you doing?!”, Gorr screams in panic.

“Giving back what has been taken.” Skuld speaks, her young voice holding so much power.

Before Gorr could respond his back arches and his head snaps up to face the ceiling, his mouth open wide, releasing a silent scream.

You look over to the rest of the group, Odin, Thor and Bastian are just as mesmerized as you. Thor’s face almost made you let out a bark of laughter, his mouth and eyes were open wide in such a state of awe that you wished you had a camera or something to capture it forever. Your eyes snap back to Gorr when he releases a terrible scream and then his body goes completely still once again and the room falls completely silent.

As one, the Norns move to the other side of the well, they each brush their fingers through the threads until Urd stops and singles out a particular strand. Urd turns and looks to you, her hand extended, “come fated one.”

You look at Mina who gives you a concerned look, you give her a kiss on her brow and give her a smile, hopefully giving your young daughter some comfort. You walk over to Urd and place your hand in hers, Skuld and Verdandi walk over to stand next to you, one at each shoulder where they place their hands. You give them both a quick look and see the same glowing white eyes that Urd currently has.

“What is happening?…”, Gorr asks shakily, feeling himself start to weaken.

“You are giving back what you stole. A life for a life.”, Urd responds.

“Wha…”, Gorr tries to respond but once again his body goes still but then begins to tremor. His glowing eyes roll to the back of his head and then the room feels like it has been suspended in time. After a moment, Gorr lets out a final sharp breath, his body falling into the well. You look back to the thread that Urd is still holding in her hand and notice that for just a brief moment the strand glowed green before changing back to its golden hue.

Your eyes snap to Urd who has a smile on her aging face, “We thank you for your assistance with dispatching Gorr, our gift awaits you back on Asgard.”

Your eyes open wide and you whip your head around to Mina whose eyes are open just as wide.

“I guess it’s time for us to go home.”, you smile.

“Wait!”, Mina shouts and looks down to Bastian. She throws her arms around the giant panther, tears falling down her cheeks landing on his black fur. “Thank you so much. We wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“Be well girl. Take care of your mother and the babe.”, he looks over to the Norns. “I assume the forest shall return to its rightful state?..”

Skuld nods, her blonde curls bouncing, “already righted. You will see a lush forest, blooming with life once again.”

Bastian nods and looks back to the group, “thank you all. Now get out of my forest.”

The panther says his final word , turns and walks out of the room. Sprinting down the cottage steps, anxious to assess his home that is hopefully back to his liking.

You all walk out to the front of the cottage and take one last look at the great tree. You look to Odin and nod, he looks up to the sky and call to Heimdall and soon the beaming lights of the Bifrost pull you up to return home.

When you all land at the observatory you are greeted by a smiling Heimdall, “welcome home.” He holds out his arm and conjures a portal but says nothing else, just a small knowing smile stays planted on his face.

You look at Mina who gives you a smile, you take her hand and walk through the portal.

————————Asgard————————

As Frigga and Eir are still assessing Loki’s body, they suddenly have to take a step back. Like some force is pushing them away. Frigga looks questioningly at Eir who looks just as confused as she does. Her attention is quickly brought back to Loki when his body suddenly arches upwards like he was being pulled toward the sky.

“What is happening?”, Frigga asks aloud.

Eir didn’t even have a response to give the Queen of Asgard, she was stunned into silence. Every thought she had, every bit of training she has had as a healer, she couldn’t formulate a single thought in this moment. All she could do is wait and watch. She’s finally able to tear her eyes away from Loki to look at the queen, and it was in that moment that she knew the queen didn’t need a healer.. She needed the friend she has been for centuries now. So Eir moves to the now kneeling Frigga and takes her hand in hers after her knees hit the floor next to her. Frigga looks at Eir sadly, tears quickly falling down her face, the woman physically and emotionally exhausted after the last few days. 

Frigga gives her hand a strong squeeze in thanks, but a bright light coming from where Loki’s body has been lying in wait the last few days forces both women to turn their heads. They are quickly met by a blinding light that makes them both close their eyes and hold their free hands over their eyes to block the brightness.

When the light finally starts to dim, they both lower their hands and open their eyes to find Loki back in his previous position. Lying on his back, his hands still lying peacefully on his stomach. Frigga and Eir give each other a quick, questioning look, rise to their feet and walk slowly up to Loki’s bedside. When they are standing over his body they do not see anything concerning, it looks as though what they just witnessed didn’t even occur. 

Eir and Frigga look at each other in confusion and then…

Loki takes a breath.

Frigga and Eir take another jump backwards because as soon as the breath leaves his mouth, his body shoots up to a seated position. His hands flying to his chest, feeling around for a wound that the healers were sure to close before they cleaned and dressed him for his funeral. His breathing is rapid and he finally looks sharply to the side where he sees his mother clutching Eir’s hand.

He closes his eyes to re orient himself. The last thing he remembers was Valendi’s spell heading straight towards Thor and knowing that the oaf wouldn’t be able to survive a curse like that but thinking it was very possible that he might. 

Clearly he had misjudged the Prince’s power..

He opens his eyes again and sees that Frigga and Eir have not moved from the spot they seemed to be too in shock to move from.

“Mm..Mother?..”, Loki calls out to Frigga weakly, his voice not strong enough just yet.

Frigga snaps out of her shock and runs up the few steps to reach her boy, “Oh..Loki…”. She hesitates at first but then she raises her hand and places it on his cheek. “My son..”, her eyes fill with tears as she throws herself at Loki.

“Oof.”, he has to place one hand on the bed beneath him to steady himself as Frigga threw herself into his arms but when he quickly rights himself he places both arms around her and hugs her tightly.

After a moment Frigga pulls away and looks at Loki, “how?”

Loki doesn’t have an answer for her, so he just shakes his head, “I’m not sure mother…”, and then it hits him, “where is my wife? Mina?”

Frigga’s eyes open in worry but before she could tell Loki anymore a portal interrupts her and she found that she didn’t have to answer Loki’s question after all.

To be continued….

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The forest had changed as you crossed into it. It had grown deeper, stranger. The trees had become older with every step, their trunks wide enough to cradle entire homes, their roots rising like the ribs of ancient beasts. Their silvered leaves had shimmered as if touched by frost or moonlight, catching the pale light like blades suspended in air. The sun had broken through less and less, until your path was lit more by filtered green-gold haze than by daylight. The air had cooled until it felt thick enough to swallow. Your skin had prickled, your breath slowed-each inhale deliberate, as if it no longer belonged wholly to you.

There had been something there, beneath the moss, behind the trunks, within the wind itself. The ground had thrummed beneath your boots with an unplaceable hum, like a forgotten lullaby or a pulse from something sleeping just below. You had felt it in the tension in your shoulders, in the way your fingers tingled when they brushed the leaves. Something older than memory had lived there-older than story.

The whispers that once haunted only your dreams had drifted on the breeze, curling into your thoughts like smoke. They hadn’t spoken words-but their intent had been clear. You’d felt the tug in your ribs, the insistent pull of magic threading through the air like a siren’s call.

They hadn’t dragged you. They had invited you. Welcomed you. Enticed you forward, like a secret you’d always known but never dared to touch.

And still, you had followed.

And then, the trees had parted.

Before you had stood the sanctuary.

Obsidian black stone, veined with gold and green, curved into an archway cloaked in thick ivy and wild moss. Its surface had shimmered with faint pulses of light, rhythmic, steady. Like the thudding of a heart long buried beneath the earth, now stirred awake. The archway hadn’t been just an entrance-it was a threshold. You had felt it. A liminal space between the world you’d always known and something older, darker, and more infinite. You had known it. You had dreamed of it. Walked it again and again in the shadows of your sleep. The angles of the structure, the weight of the silence, even the scent of the air-it had all been as it had been in those dreams, both sacred and terrifying.

You dismounted slowly, every movement deliberate and reverent. Boots had touched soft moss, sinking slightly into the chilled earth. The world had hushed. The air had tasted of storm-soaked stone and magic, metallic and ancient. You stepped forward, drawn like metal to a magnet. As your fingers brushed the obsidian, the runes had erupted beneath your skin-tendrils of green and gold light rippling outward in intricate, spiraling patterns. The magic hadn’t been passive. It had greeted you. Welcomed you. Recognized you.

Your own magic had answered in kind-surging up from deep within, a warm current that had tingled through your limbs and tightened in your chest. It hadn’t been just reaction-it had been recognition. The ruin had felt alive, and more than that, it had felt... receptive. Familiar. Like it had been waiting for you specifically.

You had expected fear. Disorientation. Resistance. Instead, you had felt something closer to welcome. A strange warmth had pressed behind your ribs. A sense of homecoming that had made no logical sense. You had never stepped foot inside those walls before-not truly-but your bones had told you otherwise.

This place knows you. Some voice within had whispered it. And you knew it.

Maybe it had been the magic. Maybe it had been the dreams. Or maybe it had been something older than both. But every part of you had ached with the certainty that you belonged there, like a puzzle piece sliding into a waiting shape.

You closed your eyes and let it move through you, let yourself belong-just for a moment longer before you had stepped inside.

The air inside the sanctuary had been colder, brushing against your skin like the ghost of something long dead. Yet it carried the scent of lilacs, frost, and ancient stone-a perfume of history and power so closely woven into the place, you couldn’t tell if it lived in the walls or your own blood. Every breath felt purposeful, as though the structure itself wanted you to inhale it, to be claimed by it.

The architecture had bent in impossible ways, as though Jotunheim and Asgard had been shattered and reassembled into something unholy-something designed to confuse and tempt all at once. The lines between illusion and reality had blurred with every turn.

Runes had crawled over the walls like living things, glowing faintly with your passing. Their light had pulsed in rhythm with your footsteps. Every one of them had echoed, sharp and deliberate in the silence. They had rung out too loud in the stillness, and yet somehow, they had been exactly what the place had seemed to expect.

You kept expecting fear to catch you, to slither down your spine and tighten your chest. This place should have terrified you. It should have felt wrong-foreign, dangerous. But the thrum beneath your skin had refused to allow it. Instead of dread, you had felt a quiet exhilaration. A steady pulse of power just beneath your fingertips.

The fires had flicked to life without command, casting soft amber shadows that had elongated unnaturally, stretching into corners where they hadn’t belonged. The deeper you had gone, the more those shadows had seemed to bend toward you, lean closer, whisper through their silence. Chamber after chamber awaited you, each arranged as if your arrival had already been written into the stone. Dark wood furniture carved with elegant Asgardian detailing had stood undisturbed in perfect stillness, as though the room had been sealed in the moment it was made, preserved like a shrine. Tapestries had lined the walls-some you had recognized from books, others from dreams.

And the light, led you. Floating lanterns had flared only when you had approached, then dimmed again behind you, as if the sanctuary itself had refused to waste energy on anyone else.

You had felt your own power hum back to life in response. It had snapped softly between your fingers like static, more alive then than it had ever been in your training halls. It had felt eager, volatile, hungry to stretch out, to test the air. That place hadn’t been suppressing it. It had been amplifying it.

No matter how many corridors you followed or thresholds you crossed, not a soul appeared. But you had never been alone. Not truly. Something had watched. Something had listened. Every shift of air, every click of your heel, every breath-it had echoed.

Your curiosity had stirred louder with each step. Where had he been? Where was the one who had called to you from the shadows of your dreams, the voice that had seduced you northward with promises of truth and power? Where was your teacher, the one who had claimed he would be waiting? He had said it so clearly: all you had to do was make it to him.

Where had your raven-haired ghost gone?

The lights had led you deeper, one by one, the lanterns igniting only as you had approached, guiding you through hall after hall, then down a wide, spiraling staircase carved straight into the stone. The temperature had dropped with each step, the air turning wetter, denser, as though the walls themselves had exhaled magic.

Eventually, the walls had fallen away.

You had entered a vast, cavernous chamber; hollowed from the heart of the earth. The ceiling had arched so high above it that it vanished into illusion, painted with starlight and shimmering constellations. Sunk deep into the stone floor had been a pool of glowing green and silver light, steam curling upward in elegant threads that promised warmth and reverence from the water.

It had felt sacred. Designed. Destined. And strangely, it had felt like it had always been meant for you.

The whispers had returned. Only one voice this time:

“Wash away the old.” For a moment, you had hesitated, eyes looking back towards the stairs, then to the pool. The command of the whisper still echoed in your mind-gentle, but firm. It hadn’t sounded like an order. It had sounded like an invitation. Still, your heart had quickened. There was a reverence in the air, a sense that crossing this threshold would leave part of you changed.

And yet, even with the weight of uncertainty coiling in your chest, you had obeyed.

You had undressed slowly, fingers moving slowly, as if you were peeling away more than cloth. The robe slipped from your shoulders like falling dusk, pooling at your feet in silence. Each layer that had shielded you from the cold, from the unknown, slid down your arms and hips like a whispered farewell-not just fabric, but every label you’d worn, every expectation they’d laced around your throat. Each fold pooled at your feet like a discarded mask, revealing not just your body, but the truth beneath it-not just to modesty, but to everything you had once been told to be.

It had felt like shedding skin.

Not your true self, but the version they had made you wear: obedient, small, contained. The version that kept your magic buried under shame, your voice dulled to a whisper, your hunger twisted into something to be hidden.

You had let it go. All of it. Stepping forward, bare and burning, into whatever came next. The air had kissed your bare skin, soft as breath, before you had stepped forward and placed your foot on the first carved stone step that descended into the water.

Warmth had risen in thick, curling tendrils of steam, and as you had stepped lower, you had felt the water lap eagerly at your calves, your knees, your thighs. It had clung to you, reverent and possessive, as if savouring each new inch of skin it touched. You had inhaled, deep and slow, letting the scented mist flood your lungs.

You hadn’t stopped. You stepped down and down until the water had hugged your hips, your waist, your chest. Your body had exhaled as the heat began to uncoil every knot buried in your muscles, a baptism of warmth and magic that had drawn you deeper, slower, into its embrace.

Finally, with a breath held just long enough to hesitate, you had slid beneath the surface completely. The water had closed over you, silent and heavy, washing the noise from your mind.  Your limbs had drifted. Your magic had shimmered faintly across your skin.

You stayed under until your lungs had burned, the weight of silence pressing against your ears like a spell. Only when the ache had become unbearable had you broken the surface, gasping for air and steam in the same breath. You had floated then, suspended between heat and weightlessness, your hair fanning out around you, your body loosened and heavy with surrender.

The first touch had startled you. A brush down your spine-too light to be real, yet too vivid to be imagined-had made you tense. You had spun in the water, heart hammering, searching for the source. But there had been no one. Just the still air and rippling surface, glowing faintly under the starlit ceiling.

Then had come another. A caress beneath the water, sliding across your hip with an intimacy that made your breath catch. A teasing flick across your ribs, deliberate and slow, like the trailing edge of a question. You had gasped, twisting sharply, your heart beating loud against your ribs as your gaze darted across the rippling surface. But there had been no one-only the stillness of the chamber, the illusion of stars above, and the steaming water lapping quietly around you.

The next touch had followed almost immediately. Another whisper-soft stroke beneath the surface, one that traced the inside of your thigh and vanished before you could flinch. Then another. A ghost of sensation down your back. You had turned again, the water sloshing gently with your movement. Still, nothing. No figure. No shadow. Only touch.

And then came the moment your mind caught up when you realized this wasn’t a single tease or stray enchantment. The touches didn’t stop. They crept closer, spreading in careful measure. And then the touches had multiplied.

Phantom fingers creeping over your skin, stroking along your thighs, ghosting over the swell of your breasts, brushing the dip of your lower back. Each one impossibly delicate, impossibly real. Each one coaxing you open with reverent patience.

Your body had begun to react before your mind could catch up. The warmth between your thighs intensified, unfurling like a tide. A moan had escaped your lips, unbidden and raw, as every nerve ending seemed to awaken all at once. Your hips had shifted of their own accord, slow and searching, your breath shortening as the water rippled with each languid movement.

The magic hadn’t simply touched you-it had known you. Known how to coax the tension from your shoulders, how to make your thighs twitch with need, how to keep you teetering just on the edge. You had felt yourself being pulled under-not by the water, but by sensation. By hunger. By something you hadn’t realized had lived so deep inside you for so long, caged and waiting.

Your hands had risen-half in defence, half in surrender-sliding over your own slick skin, brushing over your breasts, your stomach, your hips. Your fingers had tangled with the unseen ones, guiding them, meeting them stroke for stroke. You hadn’t known where you ended and the magic began. It hadn’t mattered. It had felt like you were being rewritten-reclaimed-moment by moment, breath by breath.

A whimper slipped from your lips before you realized it. Not pleading. Not afraid. Just a truth exhaled into air, heavy with meaning.

Runes had bloomed along your thighs, your arms, your ribs-glowing in time with the throb between your legs, in perfect synchrony with the slow unravelling of your restraint. The light reflected off the water, dancing across the ceiling like stars coming to life.

"You’re opening beautifully, little witch," the voice had whispered, velvet and pride. "Your power recognizes mine. It always has."

You had moaned.

You had trembled, body drawn tight, heart pounding like a drumbeat of surrender.

And just as your climax had neared, your mouth parted, breath breaking…..

Footstep

Real ones.

The sound had shattered the spell. It cracked through the heat and the haze, the illusion of safety torn away in a single echoing step. You had startled violently, a gasp catching in your throat as your body jerked upright in the water. The phantom touches vanished as if scalded away.

You had scrambled, limbs splashing, heart thundering. Panic chased desire from your veins as you retreated across the pool, your body cutting through the water until your back pressed against the cool stone at the far edge-away from the entrance. You had crossed your arms over your chest, pulled your knees in close, trying to cover the exposed parts of yourself. The water that had moments ago felt like silk now clung like shame.

Your hands shook-but it hadn’t been entirely from fear. Not entirely. Something else twisted in your belly, something hot and raw. A vulnerability that felt dangerous under his gaze.

You had watched the shadow beyond the mist grow longer, footsteps drawing closer.

And then, at last, he had stepped into view.

Not as a whisper. Not as a flicker behind your eyelids. But real. Flesh and shadow.

Your stomach had dropped the moment your mind caught up with your eyes-because it had to be him. It had always been him.

Loki.

The forsaken prince.

The one so many had believed lost after he’d been cast out. The one they whispered about in half-myths and warnings. The trickster. The traitor. The fallen god who had disappeared like smoke-never to return.

And yet here he stood, not as ruin, but as power remade. And he had called you here.

He had emerged through the rising steam like a memory rendered solid. Tall and sharp and silent, the curve of his shoulders and the sweep of his coat trailing behind him like he carried the storm itself. His raven hair had spilled across his shoulders in loose waves, damp at the ends. Runes faintly shimmered along the cuffs of his sleeves. But it was his eyes that held you-piercing, glacial, impossibly aware.

For a heartbeat, neither of you had moved. The water stilled around your body. The ache from the phantom touches remained, unspoken and unacknowledged-but not forgotten.

You had only seen him in fragments before-in dreams, in suggestions, in illusions. He had appeared in your inn room, half-wrapped in shadow and magic, a haunting smile, a fleeting presence. But this was different-more vivid, more real. This was so much more.

This was no echo.

This was him. In full.

He stood there as if he held the attention of time itself. The air thickened around him, the mist reluctant to part as he moved. And those eyes-those cold, bright eyes-had studied you like a puzzle he had already solved. Slowly, a sly smile had spread over his face, curling with recognition and something hungrier.

And even pressed to the far wall of the pool, your skin had remembered what it was to burn. Your lips had remembered the kiss as he'd pressed you into the bed in the inn.

His eyes hadn’t left you. Not once.

"Do I still scare you so that you'd hide from me even now?" he had said, voice low and velvet-dark, curved with amusement and something more ancient. "Curled against the farthest edge like the water might protect you. After all this time, you still doubt?"

He had tilted his head slightly, the smile lingering at the corners of his mouth as though it had always been meant for you. “Welcome, little witch,” he had added, his voice a mockery of warmth wrapped in silk and shadows. “To my domain.”

The cadence of his voice had wrapped around you like silk-dangerous and soft, with just enough truth to make you ache.

Loki had stepped closer to the edge of the water, the mist parting around him like it had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had. 

With a flick of his fingers, the air shimmered, and a robe of deep green had appeared in his hand, folds of fabric rich and warm. He had extended it toward you without stepping closer-an offering and a challenge all at once.

You had hesitated. The robe glowed softly in the dim light, but it was the weight of his gaze that pinned you. And slowly, carefully, you had begun to move-unfolding from your place at the far edge of the water. Every ripple you created felt too loud, too revealing.

You kept your arms crossed as you glided toward him, moving slowly and silently-as if even the water might betray your trembling. But it wasn’t just fear that lived in your bones. It was something else. Anticipation. Curiosity. The heat that still lived in your skin from the magic that had touched you, claimed you.

Loki had watched your approach without blinking. A cool, detached appraisal.  but that was before you started to rise from the water, feet finding the stone steps again. The steam rising around your frame, droplets cascading down your bare skin, his expression had not changed.

But his eyes-

You had seen it there.

Hunger.

And yet he had made no move to drape the robe around you. Instead, he had stood perfectly still, his eyes drinking you in, a silence stretching between you like a silk thread pulled taut. You had stayed rooted where you stood, bare and dripping, the warmth of the bathwater cooling too quickly on your skin under his gaze.

He had left you exposed for just a moment longer than you could bear, the silence stretching between you like a test you hadn’t agreed to take.

Then he had spoken again, softer this time, almost thoughtful. "So much fear for something that already knows you. You bathed in my sanctuary, wore my magic like a second skin… and now you tremble like it's the first time we've touched. I know you, you have no reason to hide from me." 

The words struck something in you-raw, exposed. You weren’t sure if the heat prickling beneath your skin was from shame or anticipation. Maybe both. He wasn’t wrong, and that truth made it worse. You had let yourself be claimed by the magic, let it fill the hollow places inside you, and now, under his gaze, that same craving roared to life again.

You had drawn a shaky breath, but no answer had formed-only the hollow certainty that none could be given.

With a whisper of motion, you had felt it-magic, soft and cool, rushing across your skin like a breeze made of thought. It had dried you without touch, caressing your limbs, sweeping through your hair until you were no longer damp-but still unbearably bare.

Only then had Loki stepped forward, and with a near-reverent motion, he had draped the robe around your shoulders himself. But he hadn't stopped there. His fingers had slid from your collarbone downward, a slow drag that dipped into the valley of your chest. They had lingered there, just for a moment-an echo of touch and promise-before continuing their path down your sternum.

You had frozen, breath shallow, as he tied the robe at your waist with measured care, each pull of the fabric deliberate, like he were sealing something in place.

All the while, you had watched his face-his unreadable expression, the way his eyes followed every inch of your skin. There had been hunger there, yes, but it had been tempered with something colder. Calculated. As if he were not simply admiring you, but evaluating you. Studying every flicker of your response.

Then his hand found yours, taking it it gently, fingers curling around your wrist, giving a firm but subtle tug.