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Chapter Text

The Twins of Fate Saga - Chapter 1

A quiet, moonlit balcony overlooking a grand Asgardian courtyard. The air hums with faint magic, and lanterns flicker softly. Gwen stands alone, catching her breath during a gathering filled with unfamiliar faces.

From the shadows, a smooth voice cuts through the stillness.
"Tired of the endless revelry, or simply looking for better company?"

"Just needed a moment of air." Gwen turns to see who is speaking. "I didn't realize this balcony was taken."

At the far end of the balcony, Loki leans casually against a baluster, watching her with a hint of amusement.

"Not taken, simply awaiting a worthy guest." His casual pose belies his sharp eyes, studying her with quiet curiosity. The faintest of smirks plays at the corner of his mouth.

"A worthy guest, hmm? Well, perhaps I will be worthy enough for now," Gwen says with a smile. "I'm Gwen, and you are... Loki?" She knows him only by reputation and through SHIELD reports.

Loki's smirk broadens at her easy familiarity. He pushes off the baluster, moving closer with confident, almost predatory grace.

"Ah, word spreads even among your Earthly allies. Yes, I am Loki. God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, and so forth." He stops a few steps away, studying her with open curiosity now, his gaze lingering on the piercings in her ears.

Gwen nods and studies him right back.

"SHIELD reports are fairly accurate but maybe they didn't paint a complete picture of you. You seem... different from the reports I've read."

He quirks an eyebrow at her observation, clearly intrigued.

"Different, you say? How so? Let me guess, they warned you I'm a lying, murderous lunatic, and an all-round menace to society." His smirk turns into a grin, not denying any of it but clearly amused by her calmness.

"They might have but I've heard plenty of stories, some from Thor. They weren't all bad and I'm good at reading between the lines. Thor actually invited me here tonight. The other Avengers are hanging around in there too."

Loki chuckles, his expression softening almost imperceptibly.
"Of course Thor would. The oafish fool never could pass up an opportunity to play host. And you... I find it unusual to see a mortal at a gathering like this." His gaze sweeps over her appearance again, taking in the details of her attire, her jewelry.

"I know it's rare for mortals to visit." Gwen frowns a bit at that. She knows that Loki doesn't care much for mortals and they aren't usually allowed in Asgard but Thor insisted he wanted The Avengers to celebrate with him. She notices Loki's appraising look and she glances down at the borrowed Asgardian gown, hoping it's alright.

Loki chuckles again, his gaze sharpening as he catches her self-conscious reaction. He steps closer, circling her with a languid stride, his eyes roaming down her figure.

"The dress suits you. It almost makes you appear Asgardian." There's a hint of teasing mockery in his tone, but there's a glimmer of genuine interest too. He stops in front of her, tilting his head slightly, studying her face with a curious intensity

"Almost... Thank you." Gwen already feels out of place at this party of warriors and royalty. Sure, she is an Avenger and her friends are there too but she is still new to the team. Thor has been very welcoming and friendly to her though. "Why are you out here instead of inside?"

"Why not? The revelry grows stale after a while. The same toasts and empty courtesans. It all becomes so… predictable. I tire of playing the part of the noble prince, especially when most of the attendees only come for the food and ale." Loki leans against the baluster again, crossing his arms over his chest. His smirk returns.

"I can see how centuries of the same types of parties can be boring after a while." Gwen stays in place. She isn't ready to relax and she isn't ready to go back either. Gwen is good at carrying herself properly in these situations, even if the Asgardian celebration is new to her. "I needed a moment of quiet. The stories were getting a little loud." She glances over her shoulder at a group of warriors talking and laughing loudly.

Loki's smirk deepens at her observation, a knowing glint in his eye.

"Ah, yes. Asgardian revelry does tend to be... boisterous. Though I imagine for someone accustomed to Midgard’s more refined gatherings, it must be overwhelming." He steps closer again—not threateningly so, but enough to test the boundaries of her personal space. "Tell me—are you here as Thor’s guest... or your own?"

"I've been to plenty of unrefined gatherings on Midgard as well." She chuckles softly. "I am Thor's guest but not his date, if that is what you are asking. We're friends. I'm sure if I were Thor's date though, those guys wouldn't be trying so hard to impress me with their stories."

Loki huffs out a dry laugh, amused by her observation.

"Indeed. Those louts are incapable of any sort of restraint when they think they have a chance to impress a beautiful woman." His gaze drifts casually over her figure once more, taking in every curve, every detail—though it's more curiosity than lechery. "And I take it they're not succeeding in their efforts?"

"If I had been in the mood to entertain their advances, well... there's no harm in a little fun but no, I'm not interested in them tonight."

Loki hums in approval, his smirk sharpening just slightly.

"A rare display of discernment. Most mortals—or even Asgardians—would be flattered by their attention." He leans back against the balcony rail, studying her with renewed interest. "And what are you interested in tonight?"

"I'm not sure. I didn't have a plan or ulterior motive for coming here. I suppose if something stands out to me, I can follow that. Their attention is flattering, don't get me wrong, I'm just not going to leave a party where I am a guest to 'hook up' with one of them." Gwen is starting to relax. She has heard plenty of things about Loki but she isn't too worried about him at this moment.

Loki lets out a low, approving chuckle, his fingers drumming idly against the railing.

"A refreshing attitude. Many would leap at the chance to boast about conquests in Asgard’s halls." He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming with quiet mischief. "But you... you strike me as someone who prefers quality over quantity." His voice dips into something smoother—not quite flirtation, but testing the waters nonetheless.

"Yes, you could say that." She raises an eyebrow in a curious challenge at Loki. "Are you someone with that same preference?" She probably knows the answer already. He is a god and prince and over a thousand years old. He's had plenty of... quantity.

Loki lets out an amused huff, his expression growing almost wolfish at her bold question.

"Now, that's a rather direct question, isn't it?" He pushes off from the rail, circling around her again, his steps light and calculated. "To answer truthfully, yes, I do prefer 'quality' over 'quantity.' It's simply more satisfying." He stops, standing just a little bit closer again, his eyes roaming over her, appraising and curious.

"I figured it was only fair to ask since you brought it up." Gwen shrugs with a small smirk.

He chuckles, clearly appreciating her confidence. He stops mere inches away from her now, close enough to notice the way his eyes darken as they linger on her face, her neck, her bare shoulders.

"Fair enough." He cocks his head, a sly smile spreading across his face, almost cat-like in its playfulness. "But I must admit, I'm more interested in a different sort of quality at the moment." He pauses, letting the words hang in the air, his gaze intent on her reaction.

"What sort of quality?" Gwen stands her ground and matches his tone, unbothered by him. She doesn't fall for charms easily. She's too guarded.

Loki's smirk only widens at her unflinching gaze, amused by her defiance. He steps ever so slightly closer, practically crowding her personal space. His eyes rake over her face, searching for any cracks in that carefully constructed defense. The God of Mischief loves a challenge, and he can sense one in her. He leans in, his voice a deep, silky whisper.

"The kind of quality that's worth savoring—like an exquisite wine or a rare, priceless object." He's so close now; she can feel his breath on her skin.

"Hmm... So something...collectible? Something to obtain?"

Loki chuckles again, his gaze drifting down to her lips, lingering there for a moment before returning to her eyes. He moves his head a fraction closer, his voice dropping to an almost intimate level.

"Precisely. Something unique. Something with... worth." He reaches out, the tips of his fingers gently brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. He doesn't touch her but it's a near thing. "Something that doesn't come along very often."

"Well, I hope you find someone who doesn't mind being collected." With that, Gwen steps away and goes back inside to the party.

Loki is taken aback for a moment, watching her saunter off. He hadn't exactly been rejected but she'd definitely gotten the last word. He stares after her, that familiar mix of annoyance and fascination stirring in his eyes.

"Cheeky mortal." He mutters, a hint of reluctant admiration in his voice. He watches her retreating figure as she disappears back into the crowded room.

Gwen takes a deep breath as she re-enters the great hall. Was that Loki's attempt at charming her? No, can't be. She expected more from him...or maybe less. She isn't going to be collected and looked at like that. She didn't entertain it from the warriors trying to impress her with stories and she won't entertain it from Loki either. His methods might be different but the goal was the same.

Chapter Text

Music and laughter still fill the great hall when Gwen slips back inside from the balcony. The air is warm and sweet with the scent of mead and roasted meat. She takes a moment near the doorway, letting her eyes adjust to the golden light before moving toward the long tables.
Thor’s booming laugh rises above the noise, drawing her attention to a circle of warriors swapping stories and bragging about old battles. Around the room, the rest of the Avengers mingle in smaller groups—comfortable, if a little overwhelmed by Asgard’s grandeur.
Gwen hesitates only a moment before weaving through the crowd to join Thor. When he spots her, she lifts her cup in greeting, a small smile playing at her lips.
Thor turns with a boisterous grin, nearly spilling his own drink as he gestures to Gwen.

"Ah! There you are! I was just telling these fine warriors about the time you ensnared an entire squadron of mercenaries with nothing but vines!"

"Oh? You were talking about me?" She looks surprised but maintains her smile at Thor and the warriors.

The gathered Asgardians murmur in approval, clearly impressed. Thor claps her on the shoulder—gently by his standards—and leans in conspiratorially.

"You were gone awhile. Did my brother try to lure you into one of his schemes?"

She then lowers her voice to match.

"Nothing like that. I just needed a moment of air and he happened to be there. He's...interesting."

Thor lets out a hearty laugh, clearly amused at her tactful reply.

" 'Interesting' is one way to put it. My brother always manages to find something to occupy him." The warriors chuckle in agreement. Thor claps Gwen on the shoulder again, a little lighter this time. "But seriously though, be careful with him. He'll weave words like silk around you before you even realize you're caught."

"Thank you but don't worry about me. If he gives me any trouble, I'll just string him up with vines and leave him in the garden." Gwen smirks mischievously.

"Now that I would pay to see! Loki dangling from your vines—what a sight that would be!" Thor guffaws at her remark, his booming laughter ringing out across the hall. He slams his tankard down on the table in approval. The warriors cheer in agreement, raising their own drinks.

"Apparently, you've heard about my exploits with the Avengers. Who has the best story here?" Gwen asks, turning to address the whole group.

One particularly burly Asgardian with a braided beard steps forward, grinning.

"Oh, I’ve got a tale for you! The time Thor wrestled three bilgesnipe at once while drunk off his arse!"

"I was not drunk, just... deeply celebratory!" Thor responds with mock offense.

"Are you feeling...deeply celebratory now? Do we have to worry about a wrestling match here at the banquet?" Gwen laughs.

Thor throws back his head and roars with laughter, sloshing mead over the rim of his cup as he gestures grandly.

"Worry? Never! Though perhaps hope is the better word—I haven’t wrestled a worthy opponent in ages!" He grins broadly at her, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Wrestle! Wrestle!” The warriors chant.

"A challenge to the lady from Midgard!" says one of them, holding a large tankard of mead.

Gwen laughs again and raises her voice over the chanting.

"No, no, that was not a challenge! No wrestling. I won't have you getting me in trouble with the Allfather for instigating a wrestling match in the middle of the celebration!"

The warriors all groan in unison at her rejection, grumbling their disappointment.

"You're such a spoilsport!” Thor looks at her, a mock pout on his face. ”The Allfather isn't even here—he wouldn't know a thing! And I promise I'll go easy on you..." He flexes his impressive muscles, a sly smile on his face. The warriors cheer again.

"Well, I'm not going to wrestle. I'm a lady and in a very nice dress! If anyone is going to wrestle you, it'll be a champion on my behalf." Gwen knows she shouldn't encourage this but how often does someone get this attention from warriors in this magical realm?

A wicked gleam passes across Thor's face at her suggestion, his grin widening.

"A champion on your behalf, you say? And what exactly will you wager, my dear fair lady?"

The other warriors all lean in, eager to know the terms. Even the more rowdy ones have gone quiet, their attention focused on Gwen.

"Oh, I have no idea...Do you have a suggestion, Thor?"

"Hmm, how about…” His eyes glint as a devious thought crosses his mind. There's a hint of mischief in his voice when he speaks again.Thor taps a finger against his chin, considering the options carefully. “...A favor. If I win, you owe me one favor—no exceptions, and no limits. And vice versa if you win, of course."

His grin widens, challenging her to accept the terms. The warriors all gasp, exchanging excited looks as they wait for her answer.

"A favor..." She thinks it over for a moment. "Yes, that would be acceptable. But if my champion wins, I think they should get something as well... First, I need someone to wrestle Thor on my behalf. Any volunteers?"

The warriors all start shouting over each other, eagerly stepping forward and flexing to prove their worth.

"I'll take the challenge!"
"No, I shall defend the lady's honor!"
"Puny fools! Only I have the strength for this task!"

Thor merely laughs in amusement at their antics. He then raises a hand to quiet them all down—before pointing one finger directly at... Loki, who has just wandered back into the hall with an aloof expression.

"Brother! What perfect timing."

Gwen is grinning at this spectacle. The other Avengers have taken notice as well. Usually Gwen isn't the center of attention and she shies away from it but tonight she is wrapped up in the atmosphere and mead and finds the whole thing entertaining.
When Thor points out Loki, Gwen's smile drops slightly. She wonders what complication this will bring.

"Perfect timing..." Gwen sighs but stays positive.

"You've been up to trouble again, brother?" Loki says, approaching the group, his usual smirk in place. He raises an eyebrow at the scene unfolding before him, taking note of Gwen's reaction.

"Just a friendly wager, brother! And I need you to fulfill a small... duty on my behalf."

"Oh? And what sort of 'duty' is this?" Loki asks, his eyes drifting over to Gwen, a sly gleam in his gaze.

"Our friend here needs a champion to take on a challenge." Thor laughs, slapping Loki on the back a bit roughly.

"I see. And I suppose you expect me to take on this challenge, don't you?"

"Of course! You're the only one here who can match my strength."

The other warriors grumble in assent, none of them particularly happy about that fact. Loki sighs, pretending to be inconvenienced.

Gwen takes in this new complication. Loki could wrestle for her...

"It's a simple wrestling match. I need someone to be my champion against Thor,” she explains to Loki. “If Thor wins, I will grant him a favor and vice versa, however, my chosen champion should they win..." She thinks for a second. "...will get a fresh cup of mead delivered by me with a kiss."

She doesn't assume Loki will want the task so she asks the group again. Let them figure out who will be the one to wrestle. The Avengers have gathered around by now. They haven't seen Gwen in this way before, tipsy and enjoying being the center of attention.

"Who is up for it?"

The warriors start shouting over each again, their cries and boasts filling the hall. They are all eager for the chance to be the one to claim the prize of a kiss from her.

"I offer myself as your champion, fair lady! Thor shall be defeated and you shall deliver my mead with the most passionate of kisses!"

"Nonsense! I say I shall be your champion! My victory over Thor shall fill you with such love that you will shower me with countless kisses!"

Gwen laughs at this. She has plenty of options. She isn't concerned however. She is sure whoever does take on the task of wrestling Thor will lose so the mead and kiss is basically an empty promise. She will have to grant Thor a favor though...

Gwen looks over the warriors who have lined up to volunteer. She walks by them and looks them all up and down appraisingly with a mischievous smirk. Even if they are going to lose, this is fun.

"Very well, I choose....*

Just as she's about to point to one of the warriors, Loki smoothly steps in front of them all, arms crossed and looking very smug.

"Ah-ah. No need for dramatics. I’ll be your champion."

"Cheating bastard..." A chorus of groans erupts from the warriors.

"Excellent! Shall we begin?" Thor lets out a booming laugh and cracks his knuckles.

Gwen smiles and nods. She steps up to Loki and lowers her voice for only him to hear.

"Don't lose."

Gwen then stands on a bench as the center of the room is cleared for the wrestling match.

"One last proposal. Loki, as you know, if you win, I will deliver you mead with a kiss. Thor, if you win, you will get the favor you requested but...I will give you the same prize offered to Loki, mead and a kiss." More motivation for Loki to win. It's one thing to lose but another if he thinks she'll kiss Thor instead of him.

Loki's smirk vanishes the instant she mentions Thor getting the same prize as him. His eyes narrow slightly, a flash of something dangerous passing through them before he smooths his expression back into its usual cool amusement.

"Oh, darling. Now you're just playing dirty," Loki responds in a low voice, just for her.

The warriors cheer at the added stakes, clearly enjoying this turn of events.

"I like these terms! Let’s begin!" Thor grins even wider and cracks his knuckles again.

Gwen takes a seat, ready to watch this wrestling match. She didn't anticipate that this is where the party would end up but then again, she didn't know what exactly could happen at an Asgardian banquet.

The warriors form a loose circle around Thor and Loki, chanting and cheering as the brothers take their positions. Loki stretches lazily, rolling his shoulders—but there's a sharp glint in his eyes now, focused entirely on Thor.

"You’re going down, brother," Thor says, grinning

Loki doesn’t reply. Instead, he strikes first—quick as lightning—aiming to sweep Thor’s legs out from under him. But the God of Thunder is just as fast; he dodges at the last second and counters with a grapple of his own.

The fight is fierce—fluid shifts between skill and brute strength. Loki favors tricks, slipping out of holds at impossible angles while Thor relies on raw power to push back against him.

Gwen watches intently from her seat... until one particular move sends both brothers crashing right into her bench, nearly toppling it over! The crowd roars with laughter at the close call.

Gwen yelps in surprise as the bench wobbles precariously, but she quickly regains her balance, gripping the edge of it with both hands. She glares down at the two tangled gods now sprawled at her feet—Thor laughing heartily while Loki just smirks up at her.

"Are you trying to make me regret this?" Gwen asks the two of them, dryly.
"Only if it means you’ll join in next time!" Thor grins.

Before she can retort, Loki suddenly hooks his ankle around Thor’s knee and yanks—sending his brother crashing back onto the floor with a loud thud. The crowd erupts into cheers as Loki fluidly rolls to his feet and offers Gwen a mock bow.

"Apologies for nearly unseating you, darling. I promise my victory will be far more... elegant from here on."

Gwen laughs at the idea of joining the next wrestling match between Thor and Loki. The idea crosses her mind that being in the middle of them might not be a terrible place to be. She gives Loki a dramatic head nod in acknowledgement, acting the part of a reigning queen. She sips her mead and continues watching the match.

It's a close fight; while Thor is strong, Loki is nimble and unpredictable. As the match drags on, he begins to gain the advantage, using his quicker reflexes and dirty tricks to outsmart his brother. And with every move, Loki's eyes linger on Gwen, clearly taking in her reactions and playing up his performance for her benefit.

The warriors watch with rapt attention, muttering amongst themselves. Some are impressed but most are annoyed—clearly preferring a more clear-cut victory for Thor. But Thor himself seems to be enjoying the fight, taking every unexpected move from Loki in stride with that signature grin.

Gwen whispers to a servant woman next to her and asks her to find the largest cup and fill it with the best mead they have. She is preparing for the end of the match which might be soon.

The servant woman scurries off eagerly, returning moments later with a massive, ornately carved drinking horn filled to the brim with golden mead.

"The finest from Odin’s own reserve. Good luck," the servant woman whispers as she hands it to Gwen with a knowing smirk—clearly enjoying the spectacle as much as anyone.

Gwen whispers thanks to the servant and adjusts her grip on the heavy horn just in time—because in that exact moment, Loki twists sharply and flips Thor onto his back with a thud, pinning him down decisively! The crowd erupts into cheers (and groans of disappointment from those who bet against him).

"...Told you I wouldn’t lose." Loki pants, breathless but triumphant, eyes locked on Gwen.

She is honestly surprised that Loki beat Thor. She thought no one could beat him, but apparently Loki was properly motivated. She keeps up her role as judge and stands on the bench again, commanding attention. She raises the large, heavy horn of mead in the air.
"Loki, as promised, here is your mead." She lowers the horn and hands it to him. "And... your kiss." She stays on the bench but bends down and cups Loki's face in her hands. She looks in his eyes, takes a deep breath, and kisses him. It's not just a small, short kiss; it's one that she hopes will take the rest of his breath away.

Loki’s smirk fades the moment her hands touch his face—his usual mask of amusement slipping into something far more real. When she kisses him, he doesn’t play smug, doesn’t tease. Instead, his fingers curl around the horn of mead but his other hand lifts to tangle in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss with a quiet intensity that surprises even him.

The warriors erupt—some cheering loudly (Thor among them), others groaning in jealousy. But Loki barely hears them. When Gwen finally pulls back, he exhales slowly and murmurs low enough for only her to hear:

"...You definitely play dirty." There’s no mischief in his voice now—just raw sincerity.

She grins at Loki before speaking up again for the room.
"Thank you for an entertaining match! Well done, Thor and Loki!" She leads the room in a round of applause and then steps down from the bench.

A round of applause fills the hall, the warriors cheering and whistling as Thor and Loki stand from the floor—the latter still holding the horn of mead and looking uncharacteristically thrown off.

"I’d say you earned the reward, brother. Well done!" Thor claps Loki on the shoulder with a grin.

"Indeed, I did," Loki answers. He doesn’t take his eyes off Gwen as he takes a long pull from the horn.

"I hope you had fun," Gwen says to the two of them as she steps between the brothers with a smile. She speaks more quietly this time, no longer commanding the room. She gives Thor a big hug. They are good friends, and she always has a good time with him. She would have been fine with it if he had won instead of Loki.

Thor laughs and hugs her back enthusiastically, lifting her right off her feet and spinning her in a circle the way a big brother would a much younger sibling.

"Of course I did! I always have fun when I'm beating my brother!” He sets Gwen back down, still keeping an arm draped over her shoulders. Loki watches this display with... something unreadable in his gaze. Jealousy? Frustration? Desire?

"Well maybe next time you'll actually beat him." Gwen laughs, leaning into Thor's side.
"And I believe I won something too... I don't know what favor I want yet but when I think of it, be ready."

Thor laughs again and gives her shoulders a comforting squeeze, completely at ease and unaware of the strange undercurrents between her and his brother.

"Of course! You know me, I'm always ready for whatever you need, my dear."

Loki watches the two of them together. For a moment, his usual cool composure cracks to reveal a brief hint of something he can't quite hide. It's the brief flash of jealousy.

"Watching the two of you made me thirsty. I think it's time for a refill of my own," Gwen smiles up at Thor before stepping away from his side. She glances at Loki with a knowing smirk before making her way to the table full of refreshments.

"Oh, I definitely lost this round." Loki mutters under his breath to no one in particular. Loki's fingers tighten around the horn of mead, his gaze tracking Gwen as she walks away. He takes a slow sip of the mead.

Thor glances at him, brows furrowed—oblivious to what he truly means.

"What? You won, brother!" Thor asks, cheerfully confused.

But Loki just smirks and takes another drink without explaining further.

Chapter Text

At the table, Gwen picks up a cup but before she can reach for a pitcher of mead, one of the warriors who volunteered to wrestle picks it up and fills her cup for her. She tells him thanks as he pours the mead.

The warrior grins down at her, clearly eager to catch her attention. Like most of the other men, all of them a head taller than her, he's a big Asgardian with a broad chest, rippling arms, and a full beard, the very definition of "ruggedly handsome."

"My pleasure, Lady Gwen. The least I could do for you."

"Thank you for offering to be my champion against Thor as well. I'm sure you would have been a good match for him. Loki did well though with that win, huh?"

“Oh, I would have done far better. I could have taken Thor down in less than half the time it took for Loki." The warrior chuckles and shrugs, leaning against the table and watching Thor and Loki. He takes on a teasing tone, clearly trying to impress her. He flexes his arm, a muscle bulging under the leather of his vest. He looks back at Gwen, arching a playful eyebrow.

She knows he's trying to keep her attention, and she smiles, playing along.

"I'm so sorry, you know my name, but I don't think I caught yours. I think I should know the name of the man who offered to wrestle a god on my behalf."

The warrior grins, clearly thrilled that she's giving him attention. He puffs out his chest a little bit, looking even more arrogant and proud.

"Ah, how rude of me. I am Einarr, a most valiant warrior of Asgard," he boasts. He grins wider, still flexing his arm, clearly trying to draw her eye to his impressive physique.

"That was my rudeness, not yours. I should have asked sooner. I know Midgardians don't come to Asgard often so thank you for your kindness towards me."

Einarr chuckles, clearly enjoying Gwen's attention. He leans in closer to her, dropping his voice to a charmingly conspiratorial level.

"Oh, you are a charming one, my fair lady. You are most welcome," Einarr gives her a sly wink. His eyes flicker over her face, taking in her features with open admiration, especially her lips and curves.

Gwen thinks Einarr is handsome, and if she weren't thinking about Loki right now and that kiss, she might be interested in him, at least for a little while. For now though, she is feeling good, tipsy on Asgardian mead and feeding off the energy of the party and the attention she is getting. She doesn't get this kind of attention on Earth, and she doesn't ask for it there either. Tonight, she is enjoying it. She wonders what the team is thinking about it. Thor is definitely seeing a new side of her, one that is more playful and flirty and outgoing. And she just met Loki, who knows what he is thinking. He doesn't know her usual demeanor.
Gwen continues her conversation with Einarr. It doesn't hurt to make friends in other realms, right? She sips her mead.

"A warrior of Asgard... you've seen plenty of battles then? I know Asgardians do love their fighting."

Einarr's grin widens as he leans against the table, clearly enjoying Gwen's interest and the way she holds his gaze while sipping her mead.

"More than I can count! Fought frost giants on Jotunheim, trolls in Nidavellir. I even battled a dragon once. And of course," his smirk turns teasing, "I've sparred with our dear Thunder God himself." He is boastful but charming. He takes a swig from his own cup before gesturing at her playfully. "And what of you? Do warriors of Midgard fight battles worth remembering?"

"That is impressive!” She raises her eyebrows at his exploits. “As for Midgardian warriors, I mean, there are the armies and all of that. I'm sure you've heard from Thor about the Avengers? They are all here tonight too. I’ve fought plenty of battles as part of that team, defending Midgard from all kinds of threats. The team even fought Loki, but that was before I joined."

"Ah! So you are one of Thor’s famed Midgardian warriors!" Einarr's eyes light up with recognition, and he grins, half impressed, half amused. He raises his drink to her in salute. "Now that I know you’re no mere pretty face, I must ask—have you ever fought a dragon?" There’s a playful challenge in his tone, clearly testing whether she can match his own boasts. Around them, a few other warriors have begun listening in on their conversation with interest.

"No, I have not fought a dragon, but I know if I ever come across one that needs defeating, I'll be calling on you." Gwen's charm is out in full force now. She can't help but smile, especially as she sees the others listening in. She catches Loki's eye and almost winks but thinks better of it.

Einarr throws his head back with a roaring laugh, clearly delighted by Gwen's teasing. His grip tightens around his drinking horn as he leans closer, eyes gleaming with amusement and something more flirtatious.

"Oh-ho! Then you shall have me at your side in an instant, my lady!" He taps a finger to the side of his nose playfully. "Just whistle."

Loki, who has been watching their entire exchange from across the room, suddenly takes a sharp step forward as if to intervene... only for Thor’s massive arm to block him. Thor grins down at Loki, holding him back with ease, knowing full well his younger brother's intentions.

"Don't you dare, little brother," Thor whispers.

Loki shoots him a sharp sideways glance but stops his advance, glaring in frustration.

"And what makes you think I was planning something, hm?" Loki, darkly murmuring in reply.

"Because I know you, Loki. And I know that look on your face; you're jealous." Thor chuckles at Loki's petulant grumble. Loki's pale skin flushes ever so slightly at the accusation, but his jaw clenches and his eyes flicker back to Gwen.

"Hmph, me? Jealous? Never." Loki tries to sound unbothered, his voice low and dangerous.

"You can lie all you like, but I know the truth. You're jealous of the attention she's giving Einarr. Just admit it," Thor laughs, giving Loki a hearty clap on the shoulder. He knows he's right, but also takes delight in teasing Loki every opportunity he can.

Gwen beams at Einarr's enthusiasm. At that moment, she catches sight of Natasha.
"Nat! Come here."

Natasha looks up at the sound of Gwen's voice, smiling at her and making her way over. Her eyes flicker with curiosity as she sees Einarr standing so close, with his gaze focused intently on her friend.

"Well, well... What's going on over here?" Natasha asks, a hint of teasing in her voice.

She still has the attention of a few nearby warriors, so she looks around at the group.

"I don't know if you all have had the pleasure of meeting Natasha. She is truly a warrior of Midgard. She could beat me with only her little finger. Nat, this is Einarr."

The group turns and stares in open admiration as Natasha approaches. Even Einarr can't help but let his eyes roam hungrily over her, taking in every detail. Thor is grinning at his friends now, watching the others react like star-struck children.

"By the gods, a true beauty, and a true warrior all in one. It is an honor to meet you, Lady Natasha," Einarr says, with a low whistle, clearly impressed, his eyes lingering a little too long on Natasha.

"If you are interested, tell these guys a story of one of your missions and you'll have your pick of admirers." Gwen whispers, leaning in to Natasha.

Natasha smiles wryly at Gwen, already seeing where this is going. She glances over at the now-transfixed group of warriors, all of them now watching Natasha with rapt attention and an air of admiration.

"Oh, really now? And I suppose you're suggesting I do some bragging of my own?" Natasha asks, low and amused.

"I think you should. How often are you in Asgard? Get that attention and maybe have some fun."
Gwen winks at her with a mischievous smile.

Natasha chuckles softly at Gwen's playful words. She's not usually the type to seek out attention, especially not from a group of burly warrior men... but she has to admit, there's something entertaining in it. She looks back at the group, considering Gwen's suggestion. It couldn't hurt, right?

"You're right, it's not every day that I get to impress a group of handsome men from another realm. What the hell? I could do a little bragging tonight."

"I'll leave you to it." Gwen excuses herself from the group, letting Natasha take over the attention. She touches Einarr's arm on the way out. "Pleasure to meet you."

Einarr grins at her as he turns back to look down at her, clearly enjoying her attention just as much. When her hand touches his arm, he gives a little bow and takes her hand, kissing the back of it.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady. You will come find me later, yes?" Einarr looks up at her with a charming grin.

"We'll see how the night goes. Maybe we can have a drink later." Gwen smiles softly.

Einarr's grin widens at that, clearly pleased by the possibility. He squeezes her hand once before letting go.

"I'll hold you to that then, my lady."

With one last lingering glance, Gwen turns and walks away, though not without catching Natasha’s amused expression over her shoulder as she spins some exaggerated tale about one of their past battles to an enthralled audience of warriors.

She could have stayed there with Einarr and the other warriors, but she put their attention on Natasha, and Natasha seems more than fine with it.

Gwen weaves her way through the cluster of people chatting and laughing while sipping her freshly refilled cup of mead. She is a little tipsy and certainly happy Thor invited her to this celebration. What a night...

Chapter Text

As Gwen makes her way through the crowd, one of the many young men who are clearly eager to take Einarr's place in her favor intercepts her. This man, Harald, steps in front of her, blocking her path.

"Ah, a beautiful lady like you should not be wandering around unaccompanied,” he says with a charming, if somewhat cocky, smile.

Gwen smiles pleasantly. She doesn't need to be accompanied, and if she wants a companion, she has more than a few to choose from. It's like they've never met someone from Earth/Midgard before...actually, they probably haven't.

"Oh well, thank you, but I am perfectly fine."

Harald seems undeterred by her polite rejection and takes another step closer, leaning down so he's at her level. He grins again, his eyes roving over her in a way that makes her feel less complimented and more... appraised.

"Really? I think what you need is a man by your side to protect you. These feasts can get rowdy, you know." Harald is unfazed, his eyes flickering over her figure shamelessly.

"Believe me, I can hold my own." Gwen's smile shifts into one of mischief and challenge.

Harald's eyebrow arches in slight surprise at her tone. His eyes roam over her again, this time with a hint of skepticism. He clearly isn't used to a woman being so defiant, especially not one as pretty as Gwen.

"You? I doubt that, my dear. You are a little thing. What could you do against a warrior like myself?" Harald chuckles, his tone almost condescending.

There are plenty of hanging plants around the balconies off the great hall. Her powers work just as well with Asgardian plants as with Earth ones. Gwen flicks her wrist at her side subtly, growing the plants from the balcony towards him from behind. She keeps his attention on her and not the plants creeping closer and closer.

"What can I do against someone like you? That sounds like a threat."

Harald scoffs, completely unaware of the nearby plants creeping towards him.

"It's no threat, my dear. Just merely stating a fact. One as small and delicate as yourself would need protection from such strong men like me. Unless you enjoy being thrown over someone's shoulder and carried off, hmm?"

"Actually, that depends on who is doing the carrying." Her smile broadens. The plants are almost upon him. "But if that person is you...I'll have to pass." She gestures again, and the plants wrap around his ankles and wrists, holding him in place.

"Wha—what sorcery is this?!" Harald says, eyes wide with surprise. He suddenly freezes as the vines wrap around his limbs, his face twisting in shock. He tries to jerk free, but the plants hold him tight.

A few nearby warriors turn at the commotion, watching with amusement as Harald struggles uselessly against Gwen's power. Thor is laughing from across the room, clearly entertained by her retaliation.

She gestures once more, and the vines yank him back, securing him to a pillar near the balcony door.

"Why don't you get some fresh air and take a moment to think before you speak again?"

Harald sputters in protest as the vines yank him back, pressing him firmly against the pillar. He struggles but can't break free, and his face reddens with a mix of fury and humiliation at being bested by Gwen so effortlessly.

"Unhand me this instant!" Harald grunts between labored breaths.

A roar of laughter erupts from the gathered warriors, who are thoroughly enjoying Harald's comeuppance. Thor claps loudly in approval.

"Well done, little flower!" Thor shouts.

"What's the matter? You don't like being carried off? Enjoy the party!" Gwen smiles sweetly and turns away from him, leaving him there to fume.

The surrounding laughter only grows louder as Gwen saunters away, completely unbothered by Harald’s furious shouts. His ego has clearly taken a hit—being bested so publicly by a "small Midgardian woman" is something he won't live down for quite some time.

As she walks, Thor approaches with another cup of mead in hand and an impressed grin on his face.

"I must say, I do love it when they underestimate you." Thor says, offering the drink to her.

"Thank you. I love it too. If anyone else here had a thought of messing with me, that display should put them off." She takes the drink.

Thor smiles broadly, clearly amused by the way she handled Harald. He chuckles, gesturing to Harald with his mead, still tied to the pillar and shouting indignantly.

"Indeed. That should put the rest of these fools in place. Although..." He glances down at her with a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, his eyes twinkling teasingly. ”...You could have simply said you weren't interested instead of tying him to a pillar. Poor man looks like he's about to explode."

"I don't know,” Gwen shrugs nonchalantly. “I felt threatened. Should I let him out?"

"Oh no. Let him stew for a while—it'll do him some good. He could use the lesson." Thor lets out a deep, booming laugh and shakes his head. He claps her on the shoulder lightly before leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though with Thor's usual boisterous nature, it still carries enough that others nearby can hear. "...Just don't tie me to anything later when I inevitably say something foolish."

"You? Never...unless you ask." She gives Thor a friendly wink.

Thor throws his head back with another hearty laugh, clearly entertained by her response. His grin is bright as he raises his tankard in a mock toast.

"Ah, I like you, Gwen Barkridge, you've got spirit! But be careful, one day I might take you up on that offer." He winks right back before downing the rest of his drink in one gulp.

"One day..." She responds flirtatiously. She watches him and takes a sip from her own cup. The mead is strong, and she's been drinking all night. It's only making her bolder and more playful.

Thor's grin widens at her playful tone, his storm-blue eyes gleaming with amusement. He leans in just slightly, not quite crossing boundaries but definitely enjoying the banter.

"Careful now. That confidence of yours is dangerously tempting." He reaches out to tap the bottom of her cup lightly with one finger, his smile turning roguish. "Especially when mixed with Asgardian mead."

"One day..." She repeats with a small, challenging smile. She is having fun drinking and flirting and overseeing wrestling matches. This just might be the best party Gwen has ever been to.
"I'll take it easy. Take a break." She takes one more big gulp of the mead before setting the cup down.

"Good. As much fun as it would be to see what you're like when you've had your fill of mead...I think it's best we keep you from stumbling." Thor nods in approval at her restraint, though his eyes twinkle. He casts an approving glance around the hall, clearly pleased with the evening so far. "Are you enjoying the feast? It seems you've made quite the impression on everyone here already."

"I am. Thank you again for inviting me. Your friends certainly know how to have a good time. Who knew that Asgardians and Avengers would get along so well?"

"It's not surprising. Great warriors all come together with good drink and food." He grins at the comment, clearly pleased and proud. His eyes wander to her cup, and he gives it a knowing glance and teases. "Are you certain you're done drinking for the evening?"

"I suppose I should finish this cup since you were nice enough to bring it for me." She picks the cup back up and takes another sip.

Thor smirks at that, watching with amusement as she takes another sip.

"Ah, so you are still under the influence of the mead. That's why you're being so agreeable." He gives an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head playfully. "I should warn the others. Gwen Barkridge is dangerously pleasant when she's had a drink."

"Oh, I am always pleasant. I'm just much more pleasant and charming." She flashes him a wide smile. "Now, what else do you do for fun at these parties?"

"You, my dear, have a very high opinion of yourself." Thor laughs at her response, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and interest. He thinks for a moment, a rare sight for Thor, considering he usually just charges into everything head-first, and then inspiration strikes him. "Ah, you want to have some real fun tonight, hmm?"
"You disagree?” She pouts slightly. “Maybe I should go find someone else who thinks I'm pleasant and charming... You know, Einarr was very nice...and then Loki..."

His smile drops, and his eyes narrow slightly at her teasing, a hint of jealousy flashing across his features. He crosses his arms and regards her coolly, still clearly not fond of the idea of her being around other men.

"...Loki is never 'nice', and Einarr is far too eager to impress. The men here only want one thing from a pretty woman like you." He grumbles back in a low, warning tone.

"Maybe I only want one thing with them too. What do you want with me then, hmm?"

The question catches him completely off guard, and Thor blinks at her in surprise and maybe a little uncertainty. He shifts awkwardly, clearly not accustomed to answering questions so bluntly.

"Ah... well... I... I'm not like them, of course.” Thor tries to regain his composure and fails a little. “I don't expect anything from you. I simply wanted to, uh, show you a bit of Asgardian hospitality." He runs a hand through his hair, then tries for a charming smile, though it comes off a tad nervous this time.

"You've shown me plenty,” Gwen smirks, a little annoyed but trying to hide it. ”Excuse me for a moment." She steps away from him and walks towards one of the balconies. She gestures and silently lets Harald out of the vines on her way out.

Thor watches her go, his expression briefly unreadable before he exhales roughly through his nose and downs the rest of his drink in one gulp.

Harald, now freed from Gwen’s vines, staggers slightly before glaring in the direction she walked off to. He mutters something under his breath about "Midgardian sorcery," but wisely decides against pursuing her further.

"Next time... don’t try picking up someone who could strangle you with vines, Harald," Thor tells him deadpan, arms crossed. With that final warning (and Harald looking appropriately chastised), Thor casts one last glance at the balcony where Gwen disappeared before deciding whether or not to follow...

Gwen takes a moment alone on the balcony. She is probably overthinking it, but Thor's little comment about her having a "high opinion of herself" stung more than intended. She was simply having fun, drinking and letting loose without overthinking for once in her life. He didn't realize that the comment got to her. He certainly meant it as a joke.
Perhaps she was doing too much. She's louder, bolder, more playful tonight. She oversaw a wrestling match between Thor and Loki, kissed Loki, flirted with both of them and entertained Einarr's attention.

Back home in the tower with the team, she is focused on work and missions. She has fun, but not like this. She is used to being the quiet one. Sure, she has some mischief in her, but she is the one who is always calm and steady, a wallflower.

She takes a deep breath of the cool air and leans over the railing, looking down at the gardens bathed in moonlight below.

Chapter Text

While Gwen stands on the balcony, lost in thought and trying to regain her composure, the soft sound of footsteps approaches from behind her. The figure pauses at the balcony door, watching her for a moment. It takes a step towards her, then speaks with an almost wary softness.

"You ran away,” Loki says, low and cautious.

"I didn't run away. I simply needed some air," Gwen answers, trying to put the confidence back into her voice.

Loki exhales softly through his nose, a quiet hmph of amusement or maybe disbelief. He takes a slow step forward, resting his elbows on the railing beside her. His eyes don’t meet hers; he stares ahead at the gardens below instead.

"You stood there grinning at Thor like you had no worries in all the realms … and now here you are, staring off into the night as if it holds answers." Then he finally glances at her sidelong. "So which is it? The fearless woman who plays with princes and warriors alike … or this?"

Gwen sighs softly before she answers. "Both. It's complicated."

Loki lets out a short, sharp laugh. His voice is a little bitter when he responds. "’Complicated’ is one word for it. Contradictory would be another,” he mutters, shaking his head. He glances at her again, his gaze flickering over her profile, as if he's trying to read her expression for clues. When he next speaks, his tone is almost mocking. “Or perhaps you're just that indecisive."

"No, I'm cautious and mindful and reserved...usually. But there are times, like tonight, when I give myself permission to stop thinking so hard, to relax and have fun like everyone else does, and I'm good at fun. Inevitably though, someone says something or I do something that makes me think and the whole thing comes crashing back down and I remember why I usually stay in such tight control of myself."

Loki is quiet for a long moment, his expression shifting, first thoughtful, then something almost like recognition. His fingers tap lightly against the railing.

"...And then you wonder if they liked the real you at all," he adds quietly. He turns his head to look at her properly. His smirk isn't mocking anymore, just a little tired. "That's not indecisive, Gwen. That's survival."

Gwen sighs again. "I give everyone what they want. Steve sees me as responsible and quiet. Tony sees me as a little sassy. Thor sees me as flirty fun. And the entire party tonight got to see me actually enjoy attention for once."

Loki gives a soft scoff, but there's no real malice in it. He knows that feeling of constantly trying to fit in, of shifting personalities to please everyone else around you.

"The chameleon. Always changing colors to blend in. But what about you? Which of those faces is the real one?"

"They are all real." She stops before she asks him what he wants to see or who he thinks she is. She wants to go back to the fun, but now that the thoughts have crept in, it'll be harder.

Loki studies her carefully for a beat before pushing off the railing with a quiet exhale. He straightens, rolling his shoulders, the motion almost like shedding something heavy.

"Fine. Then let me see the fun one again." Loki says lightly, as if he knows he's being reckless. A sly smirk tugs at his lips. "I think I preferred when you were kissing people."

She smiles a little with a shake of her head. "I bet you did. And it wasn't people I only kissed you."

His smirk deepens, pleased by her clarification and the way she didn’t deny his preference. He leans in just slightly, voice dropping to a playful murmur.

"Good. I loathe sharing." A beat passes, then he straightens suddenly, offering his arm with a flourish. "Now. Do you plan to hide out here all night like some brooding poet? Or are we going back inside where the mead and mischief are?"

She thinks for a moment before taking his arm.
"Will you...keep me company for a little while longer when we go back in?"

Loki gives a charming smile in response, clearly pleased with her request. He covers her hand with his free one as he starts towards the door back inside.

"You're sure you want me to keep you company and not, say... Einarr?" Loki teases, but there's a hint of genuine fondness in his voice.

Gwen's smile grows a little more because he is making her choose and making her say it.

"I want you."

Loki's eyes flicker to hers at those words, his confident smirk faltering just slightly, as if he hadn't quite expected that response. He gives her hand a light squeeze, trying to maintain his usual cool demeanor.

“...Are you certain? You have options here," Loki’s voice is a little gruffer than intended, a hint of uncertainty under his words.

"I guess I do, but honestly, you're my favorite." She smiles again charmingly at him.

Loki falters again as those words sink in, his expression shifting from playful to something like surprise, his jaw tensing just the slightest bit. He stares at her, searching her expression for any hint of insincerity. Is she playing with him...? Is she simply saying what she thinks he wants to hear? No... she's sincere.

He clears his throat, trying to cover up the fact that she's left him just a little bit tongue-tied.

"...I'm your favorite?"

"Yes." She lowers her voice slightly, just for him. "And I'm glad you were the one to win the wrestling match and get the kiss."

Her sincerity catches Loki off guard, and he inhales sharply when she lowers her voice as if this moment is meant for him. His fingers tighten around hers unconsciously, and his smirk has completely vanished now. There's a rawness in his expression, something almost vulnerable.

"...I won't forget that." A beat of silence. Then he exhales in amusement at himself and shakes his head slightly. "And here I thought I was the charming one."

Gwen laughs a little, happy that Loki pulled her out of the self-reflective bad mood that was threatening to ruin her night.

"Let's find something fun to do, shall we?"

Loki relaxes, clearly enjoying her lightened mood and the fact that he's the one responsible for it.

"Oh, now you want to have fun," Loki grins, his usual confidence back in his tone again. He gives her hand another light squeeze as he leads her back inside. "I have an idea of what we can do that I know you'll appreciate."

"Oh? What would that be?”

Loki gives a sly smile, glancing down at her sidelong as he guides her back through the hall. His gaze remains fixed on her, taking in every little detail. He's clearly enjoying this whole thing. He leans down slightly, murmuring into her ear as he guides her through the crowd.

"It involves alcohol. And mischief. And...you."*

"I suppose I'll trust you on this." Gwen looks at him with a curious smirk.

A flicker of triumph and something like excitement crosses Loki's face. He grins and gives her hand another squeeze, the confident smirk back in full force.

"You should."

Chapter Text

Loki leads her through the great hall, weaving them around drunken Asgardians as he heads towards the back hallway.

"Now come. I know exactly where I'm taking you."

They walk through a door at the end, heading down a hallway lined with several doors. Loki stops at the fourth door, holding out a hand to encourage her through it first.

"Ladies first."

Gwen hesitates for a moment before stepping inside. She is curious to see what else the palace holds. It's huge, and she's only seen a small part.

Loki is immediately behind her, stepping in after her and closing the door quietly, shutting out the sound of the party for a moment.

"Welcome..." His eyes stay on her as he walks past, heading into the room. "To one of the royal libraries."

"We are at a party full of stories, impromptu wrestling matches, and barrels of mead, and you bring me to a library?” Gwen chuckles a little. “Not that I don't appreciate it. It's just surprising."

He turns to face her with a slow, deliberate smile, one that’s equal parts playful and knowing.

"Oh, but it's not just any library." His fingers trail along one bookshelf as he circles back toward her, clearly enjoying himself now. His voice drops to something conspiratorial. "It happens to be where I keep my collection of forbidden texts."

"And what exactly is in these forbidden texts?" She lowers her voice to match, her tone playful.

He moves closer, his voice dropping to practically a whisper now. He stops when there’s barely a half step of space between them. He reaches out, brushing a finger over her wrist lightly, as if he can’t help himself.

"Secrets. Dark magic. Curses. Forbidden spells,” Loki still speaking softly, eyes fixed intently on hers. “Things I'm definitely not supposed to know." He smiles faintly at the last part. His gaze hasn’t wavered an inch from hers. He looks almost cocky.

"But if anyone is going to find and read forbidden texts, it's you." She smiles, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Loki leans in slightly. Enough that she can feel the warmth of him, enough that if she breathed too sharply, they'd touch.

"And now it's us." A smirk tugs at his lips as he pulls back again, clearly enjoying himself too much. "So tell me… what do you want to read first?"

"I don't actually know. I don't think I want anything those books could offer. There's no one I need to curse or magic I need to know. That's boring, I know."

He laughs softly, shaking his head at her.

"I wouldn’t call it boring. I might call it...wise." He taps a finger against his chin, considering her for a long moment, eyes drifting to the nearby bookshelves. Loki adds with a smirk, a slyness to his tone. "But you do strike me as the type to have at least one guilty pleasure."

"My guilty pleasures are all simple." She thinks for a moment and grows a bit more serious.
"The only thing I could possibly think of wanting would be the ability to change a few things in my past. Some things wouldn't have a huge effect though, and the ones that would, well, I still don't think I'd change those."

His smirk softens slightly at those words, a hint of understanding passing through his eyes. He turns away for a moment, running his long, slender fingers along the spines of the books. When he looks back again, his gaze is more serious, though his smirk is still faintly there.

"Regrets, then? Mistakes you still think about?"

"Some regrets and mistakes I think about every day. Others are things I wish I could just take away."

His gaze softens further at that. Something about her tone resonates with him; he knows that feeling all too well. But he doesn't say that. Instead, he gives her a crooked smile and gestures to the surrounding shelves.

"Maybe there's something in one of these tomes that can make your memories disappear for a little while," Loki says lightly, teasingly trying to take the edge off the seriousness of their conversation now. He turns away, beginning to scan the titles on the shelves again.

"Thank you, but I don't think I want to mess with memories or my mind. I don't want to take any risks. I'll keep the things that hurt. I've carried them this long." She smiles through the painful thoughts.

Loki pauses, glancing back at her. There's something about her smile and the bittersweetness in it. She carries pain and hides it well behind a smile, behind her playfulness and confidence. He knows about hiding pain, about burying things deep. He knows what it looks like, what it feels like. She's more like him than he initially realized. And the thought both startles and fascinates him.

"You know, that's very wise of you," Loki’s voice is quiet, studying her.

"How about you show me another room? I'd love to see more, hear some of your stories."

He looks back at her for a moment, something unreadable flickering through his eyes. He can see the pain now, the things she hides behind that smile. Like a reflection. But then it's gone as if a mask has slipped back into place.

He smiles faintly, shifting gears back to charm and playfulness. "All right. Let's leave these musty old tomes behind. I want to show you something better."

Chapter Text

Loki motions toward the door—not taking her hand, but gesturing to let her proceed through first again.

Gwen steps back into the hallway and pauses, waiting for him to lead the way. "Something better... I'm not even going to try to guess."

He follows her into the hall, closing the library door behind them. He gives her a sly smile, his eyes are gleaming with something like excitement now.

"You'll have to wait and see then."

He walks past her to lead her down the hallway again, walking a bit more quickly now. It's clear wherever he's taking her, he can't wait to show her. The excitement is infectious.

Gwen walks fast to keep up. She is curious to see what else he has to show her. She admits to herself that she is a little disappointed that he's not holding her hand or making contact with her this time.

He glances back at her with a slight grin every few paces, taking in her eagerness. He can't quite tell whether she wants to see what's at the end of this hallway or if she just wants to get more time with him. He finds the latter thought intriguing—for more than a few reasons.

Finally, he stops in front of another door and pushes it open, holding it for her to step in first.

She steps in the room and looks around.

This room isn't as grand or as formal as the library—though the bookshelves are also filled with all sorts of books. There's a large, overstuffed chair in the corner, a writing desk, a couple of other comfortable-looking chairs. There's a settee near a crackling fireplace, complete with a cozy throw blanket and plush pillows. It looks like a room made for reading, lounging, and relaxing.

"This…” Loki gestures to the area, a hint of pride in his voice, “is another favorite room of mine."

"I can see why. This room is instantly relaxing and cozy. It feels like its own little world." Gwen takes it all in with a smile.

Loki stands near the door, watching her admire the space. He fixes his gaze on her. There's something about the way she walks around the room, her soft smile as she takes everything in. He can't take his eyes off her.

He clears his throat and walks over to the settee and sits, leaning back against the pillows. "Come, sit."

She is already pretty comfortable with him. Strange, since she just met him a few hours ago, and he is the God of Mischief.
She joins him on the settee, close but not too close, and actually relaxes.

"This is nice. I can imagine you sitting right here, perfectly at ease, reading one of those forbidden texts, maybe with a glass of wine or a little snack."

He chuckles slightly, resting his elbow on the back of the settee—almost, but not quite, with his arm around her. There's a part of him that wants to pull her closer, to feel her warmth against him.

"Is that how you're picturing me? A bookish introvert?" He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by her mental image of his evening routine.

"Not all the time. I don't think that's an accurate description of you. But in this room, what else would you do, stare into the fire and scheme?"

He lets out a sharp laugh—his amusement honest, almost surprised by her insight.

"You’re far too perceptive for your own good." His smile lingers as he tilts his head, considering her. She sees him—not just the roles he plays. "Perhaps I have spent a night or two here doing exactly that. But not always alone."

The implication is deliberate—he watches to see if she catches it.

She catches it alright, and her reaction is torn. On one hand, she enjoys being here with him and is honestly interested in the implications, but ‌she is a touch disappointed. How many others has he brought here? This suddenly doesn't seem genuine and instead seems like a routine pickup move.

She gives him a polite smile and stands. She walks over to one bookshelf and pretends to skim the titles.

"More books...not forbidden, I suppose..."

He sees the shift in her demeanor, how the moment has changed. He can see the thoughts flicker through her eyes—her disappointment, her realization that she's probably not the first he's brought here. A surge of frustration shoots through him. Did she really think she was just another quick diversion or amusement?

He stands and walks over, stopping behind her. He places his hands on the bookshelf on either side of her, effectively boxing her in. He's close enough that his breath brushes her ear. His tone is just barely above a whisper.

"I thought you were smarter than that."

"I'm not stupid or naïve,” Gwen sighs and drops the polite smile. “I know you've had plenty of...experiences. I thought you were smart enough to know that I'm not someone to easily fall for any lines or moves."

He scoffs slightly, his hands tightening on the bookshelf on both sides of her. His next words are equally quiet, laced with just the barest hint of anger.

"You think I'm giving you a line? That I’m only trying to get you into my bed?"

All he has to do is move his head down an inch and he would be able to bury his face against the curve of her neck. The temptation is almost unbearable.

"I do. I think this is a practiced routine. You know, maybe I was foolish to think there might have been something real. If I had wanted an easy line, I could have just taken any offer I got tonight." She turns around in the tight space to face him. Her tone turns sarcastic."You want me quick and easy? You should’ve just said so. Why work so hard going through some well-used moves? Just say it outright."

He steps back suddenly as if her words have physically struck him. His expression is completely closed off now, the warmth from earlier gone. For the first time since she met him tonight, he looks genuinely angry.

"You think that’s what this is?" His voice is dangerously low. "You think I wanted it easy? I could have had you in my chambers an hour ago if that were the case." He moves toward her again but stops just short of touching her, his jaw tight with frustration. "But no. Instead, I showed you my favorite rooms, because, believe it or not, I liked spending time with you."

He turns away sharply as if to leave.

She's unsure what to say and just stands there quietly against the bookshelf, thoughts swirling. She doesn't want him to leave, though. She can't stand people being upset with her.
He thinks she would have said yes already if he propositioned her? She had options tonight if she wanted “easy.” She had the most fun with Loki and actually liked him, which is why the implication of being just one on a list stung.

"Don't leave. I'm sorry."

His entire body tenses at her words. She could feel the anger and frustration rolling off of him. But her apology gives him pause and he slowly turns around to look at her again. He says nothing at first, his gaze focused intently on her, like he's trying to figure out if she means it.

"You're sorry." His tone is flat, unmoving. "Why?"

"I'm sorry for assuming this was a game to you,” Gwen looks him in the eye, speaking calmly and clearly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sorry for...ruining your favorite room with these negative feelings and the argument. I'll go. I'll go to the guest room that Thor arranged, and you won't see me for the rest of the night. You can go back and enjoy the party."

He lets out a sharp breath, some of the tension seeping out but not all of it, not yet.

"That's it, then? You'll leave just like that?" He crosses his arms, fixing her with an unflinching gaze. "I'll admit I'm surprised."

"Yeah, just like that. I'll stay out of your way until I leave in the morning. You can pretend I'm not here."

He laughs bitterly at that, shaking his head as he takes a step toward her.

"You have. My night is ruined." He stops right in front of her. He could reach out and touch her now if he wanted. "And I'll tell you one other thing that's ruined. I actually thought...for some stupid reason, that I had finally met a woman I could be myself with. A woman who enjoyed spending time with me, not just some version of me. You enjoyed my stories, my company, my...my actual personality. And it made me think that maybe... maybe it meant something. Something different for once." He runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling as if cursing the gods for being cruel to him.

"I did enjoy it. I like you. I like everything you showed me,” her eyes fill with tears. “I thought it was something real until...I destroyed it with my doubts. I did one thing I didn't want to do - be like all the others who assume the worst of you. I knew there was more to you than that, but I slipped."

He looks back down, meeting her gaze as a muscle along his jaw clenches. There's a mixture of anger, frustration, and even...hurt in his eyes.

"Why did you doubt it?"

"Why? Because I have to question everything. I always assume that there's an angle I'm missing; there always has to be some sort of trick, because nothing can ever be as good as it seems."

His expression softens slightly at that. He lets out a long breath, some of the anger draining from his posture.

"That's why I thought we were alike," he whispers. "I expect tricks and lies too." He looks away for a second before meeting her eyes again, searching them intently. "But I didn't want to lie to you."

She looks down and answers just as quietly. "And I didn't want to assume the worst of you. So again, I'm sorry." Gwen takes a few steps towards the door. "I'll stay out of your way."

His hand flies out to stop her. The moment his fingers wrap around her wrist, he pulls her back toward him. His touch is firm, but not bruising. He looks down at her, his gaze steady and serious.

"You are not going to some guest room." His fingers slide from her wrist, down to her hand. He's holding her hand now, intertwining their fingers. His lips curl up in what might almost be a smirk. But there's a look in his eyes that's almost...vulnerable. "You're staying with me."

"You can't mean that, not after how badly I misread the situation." She looks so concerned, so confused.

He shakes his head, a scoff leaving his lips.

"We both misread each other. You assumed, and I should've just told you how I felt." He looks down at their hands, running a thumb over the back of hers. "But I'm not letting you leave now. I just... I don't want you alone."

Gwen studies his every move and micro-expression, not wanting to misread or assume anything else.

"What do you want to do?"

He pulls her closer, bringing his other hand up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His eyes flit across her face as his fingers slowly trail over her cheek, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. He's usually so sure and cocky, but there's something soft in the way he looks at her.

"I want you...to stay with me tonight. In my room. In my bed." He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering down to her mouth. He moves one hand and lightly brushes his knuckles along the underside of her jaw, tilting her head up slightly. "And before you ask, no, it’s not a line or ploy." He gives her a little smile. "I genuinely...want you to stay."

"I'll stay because you asked,” her smile matches his. “Because now you didn't imply something and make me guess, and you aren't playing any games."

"I've played enough games for a lifetime.” He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “With you... I think I'm done pretending." His fingers lace with hers as he leads her toward the door. "Now come on—unless you'd prefer to sleep in some cold guest chamber instead of keeping me up all night talking."

"I think I'd prefer to be with you."

His fingers tighten around hers just slightly as they walk, and there’s a quiet warmth in the way he glances at her, something almost like relief.

"Good. Because I already told the servants to bring extra blankets for my bed, and I'd hate to have wasted their time." His smirk is back, but softer than before.

He pauses just outside his chamber door, turning to face her fully. His free hand lifts, tucking another loose strand of hair behind her ear with deliberate care before his thumb brushes lightly over her cheekbone.

"Just so we're clear... this isn't about proving anything. Or winning something." His voice drops lower. "I want you here because I enjoy your company more than anyone else's tonight."

"I know." Her head leans in slightly at his touch. She believes him. They spent too much time together and were too vulnerable, and something real happened.

He watches the way her head tilts toward his touch, the way her expression softens, and it pulls at something deep inside of him. His hand drops from her face, but it lands on her hip now, his fingers wrapping around the curve of her hip. He steps closer, his eyes focused on her face—studying every detail and the way her lips pull up the way they do when she's amused.

"And you don't think I'm a cocky, arrogant arse with a superiority complex?" The question is serious, despite the smirk.

"Oh, I definitely think that...but luckily I enjoy that part of you too." Gwen smiles. Her hand comes to rest on his arm.

He lets out a low chuckle, the smirk on his lips deepening. His hand slips up from her hip to her waist, drawing her closer.

"Good," he murmurs, "because I have absolutely no intention of changing." His other hand comes up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing over the curve of her cheekbone. "And you—I like you just as you are." He leans in slightly. "Even when you're being difficult."

"Good, because sometimes I can't help it." Gwen knows she is an expert at ruining ‌things with her endless questions and skepticism. She's a scared rabbit hiding underneath her mask of pleasant calmness.

His fingers trail along her jawline, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. His smirk softens into something gentler—something almost fond.

"I don’t want you to help it." His voice drops, low and rough. "I like you difficult. I like your skepticism. I like that it takes more than a charming smile to win you over." A beat of silence. "And if we're being entirely honest... I might enjoy the challenge."

"Then, I won't let you down," she laughs softly.

His smirk deepens as he leans in just slightly closer, his breath brushing warm against her lips.

"Oh, darling," he murmurs, "you never could."

With that, he turns away—just enough to open the door to his chambers—but not before shooting her one last, lingering glance over his shoulder. His fingers twitch slightly at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for her again.

She knows this night is far from over. Stepping into his room marks the beginning of something new.

Chapter Text

Gwen follows Loki into his chambers and takes a long look around with a small smile. It is exactly what she expected from him.

Loki watches her, leaning back against the door. He can tell by the way her eyes take in the room with that small smile that she's pleased by what she sees. The furniture is elegant; the bed is huge; the windows are draped with rich dark curtains. Even a fire is burning in the fireplace, adding to the comfortable atmosphere.

"Like what you see?" he muses, folding his arms over his chest.

"It's very 'you'. And yet at the same time it feels strange to imagine you here at rest or picking out clothes or doing any other normal things with your guard down like everyone else."

He lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

"Believe it or not," he says, stepping forward to run his fingers idly over the back of an ornate chair, "I do have moments where I'm just a person." A pause. Then he looks at her, head tilting slightly. "Though I admit, those moments are rare. And usually reserved for people who've earned them." His lips quirk up in a smirk, soft and private.

"It's much easier to imagine you waking up perfectly put together in a perfectly put together room than to try to imagine you getting dressed and leaving a mess behind or anything lying around out of place." She takes a few slow steps around, noticing the little details in the room that show personality, and she likes what she sees.

He watches her, his expression turning curious as she looks around the room. The corner of his mouth quirks up as she makes that comment about him being perfectly put together, his gaze tracing along her form in a slow, languid gesture.

"Would it surprise you to learn that I am, in fact, capable of making and leaving a mess?" he asks, half-teasing. "Don't tell me: you assume I'm never anything but completely together all the time."

"I know you are, but... I think you are more capable and willing to leave a mess when it isn't your space or your things. Your own space and belongings are organized and put away. I've noticed that in every room you've shown me that you spend time in, and I'm also sure that is your doing, not a servant picking up after you."

He smiles slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. She's sharp. He has to give her that.

"That's true. I can't help myself." He glances around the perfectly organized room. "And you're right; servants don't bother with my things. I like to have a certain...order. It helps me think." His gaze shifts back to her. That hint of amusement is still there, and there's something else, too, something almost like appreciation?

"I can imagine that you are also quite possessive of your things. You don't want anyone touching something that is yours, even if it's for a harmless reason like putting it away." She turns to look at him with a knowing smile. "But I'm going to guess that you don't make your own bed."

He raises an eyebrow, surprised by the accuracy of her observation, and then laughs outright at her last remark.

"And here I thought I was good at keeping secrets," he muses, shaking his head with grudging admiration. "But yes. The bed is made for me. Call it a small concession to luxury. Though if you'd like to test that theory about me being possessive... you're welcome to move something and see how long it takes before I put it back."

"I've already moved something while we were talking." She smiles again at him, bigger and mischievously.

He narrows his eyes slightly, his head tilting just the slightest bit to the side as he studies her. He's clearly trying to figure out whether she's bluffing.

"Something, you say. And just where, pray tell, did you move it?" He sounds amused. The idea that she's dared to move something of his is almost amusing.

Gwen walks over and holds out her closed hand towards him. She had picked up a small dagger and tucked it up her sleeve; the pommel cupped in her palm. She turns her hand over and shows him.

He lets out a low, incredulous chuckle, staring down at the dagger she's showing him. He's genuinely impressed. He didn't notice her picking it up at all. He reaches down and takes the dagger from her, his gaze lifting to meet hers. The corners of his mouth tilt up in a smirk.

"Now that was clever." His hand twirls the dagger idly, testing its balance in his hand. "And here I thought you were going to say you moved a book or something. But no. You had to go right for the dagger."

She shrugs. "It was easy to pick up and conceal. Don't worry, I'm not a thief, and I rarely make a habit of messing with people's belongings. I just wanted to see something."

"And what were you trying to see, hm?" he asks, the smirk still on his lips. "If I pay attention enough to notice when something gets moved?" He sets the dagger down on a nearby table, watching her with a gleam in his eyes.

"I wanted to see how long it would take you to notice, but I was impatient and showed you before you could figure it out."

He lets out a surprised laugh, shaking his head in amusement at her reply. He should've seen that response coming, honestly. He's already learning how quick and witty she is.

"Impatient, impulsive, and clever. The perfect concoction for trouble." He runs a hand idly along the edge of the table. "And you did all that just to see if I was paying attention to my own things."

"Yes, and to see how easily I could distract you. Think I could do it again?"

He lets out a low, dry laugh, lifting his eyes to meet hers again. There's a challenge in his gaze, and the smirk on his lips is now downright predatory.

"You can try, little vixen." His voice is low, a dare. "I have a feeling it'll take more than moving something to distract me."

"I already did that too." She smiles and holds out her other hand, exactly the way she did with the dagger. She turns it over to reveal a small trinket.

When he sees the trinket in her open palm, his eyes flicker up to hers with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.

"Bloody hell, you're quick," he mutters, eyes glued to the trinket in her hand. He reaches out and takes it, studying it for a moment before looking up at her again. "And just when exactly did you pick this one up?"

"When I walked past your desk just before I picked up the dagger." She raises an eyebrow flirtatiously. "Do you think I picked up anything else?"

His expression shifts from intrigued to openly suspicious, and he doesn't even try to hide the amusement in his voice as he scans her up and down, half expecting her to pull out yet another stolen item.

"You're telling me you only swiped two things?" he drawls. His fingers twitch slightly, as if resisting the urge to check her sleeves himself. "For some reason, I don't believe you."

"You're wrong. It was only the two of them." Gwen feels like she understands Loki. If she were worried about him or wrong in her assessments of him, she wouldn't have picked up anything at all, and she wouldn't be teasing him like this.

Another low, dry laugh slips out, and his smirk deepens. He's obviously finding this both irritating and enjoyable at the same time, a mix of annoyance and curiosity. He takes a step toward her, his eyes still fixed on hers as he leans against the table next to them.

"No more little trinkets for me to worry about?" he murmurs, eyes roaming over her face. "You're not hiding something else up your sleeve, are you, little vixen?"

"Want to check?" She holds her arms out towards him.

He smiles slightly, his gaze flickering down to her outstretched arms. The offer is almost too tempting. His hands twitch once more, but he keeps them firmly at his side.

"Oh, I do. I absolutely do," he tells her, his voice low and rough. He's still leaning casually against the table, but his eyes are locked on her arms, scanning for any hint of anything else she might have hidden there.

"These Asgardian dresses are great for hiding things. Perhaps you should watch out for actual thieves around here."

He snorts softly at her words, his gaze still roving over her dress as if he's trying to figure out if there is anything hidden in it.

"Real thieves I can handle. It's a clever little minx like you I have to watch out for." He glances up to look at her face, a slight smirk on his face. "What's next, hm? A dagger up your skirt?"

"That is where I would keep one in this dress, if I needed to. But there is no dagger. I didn't take anything else, and I won't take anything else."

A beat of silence passes as his gaze flickers up and down her dress again. He's clearly taking his time, his gaze lingering on her hips in particular. He smirks, pushing himself up off the table.

"I'm almost inclined to believe you. Almost." He closes the distance between them. "But I have one more place I need to check first." He steps right up to her, close enough that the edge of his boots touches her shoes. He looks down at her, the smirk still on his face. "Turn around."

Gwen chuckles. They agreed to spend the night together simply in each other's company, and she would not be a quick conquest for Loki. If she had wanted that, she could have had it, but she actually likes him. Just because she didn't want this to be easy and over quickly with him doesn't mean that everything is off the table. No, she knows exactly what she is doing. She turns around without protest.

He watches her turn for him, his gaze roving over the back of her body. She's just as lovely from the back as she is from the front.

"Good girl," he murmurs. One of his hands lifts and slowly slides down along the curve of her hip, fingers trailing over the back of her thigh. He's being careful, and he's taking his time, checking all areas where she might have a hidden weapon.

As his hand drifts lower, grazing the underside of her thigh near the back of her knee, he pauses. His fingers brush against something unexpected—cold metal tucked into a hidden strap under the dress.

"Ah." His voice drips with smug satisfaction as he feels the small blade strapped to her thigh. "And what do we have here? Lying to a liar never ends well, darling."

"Borrowed from Natasha. We weren't sure if my powers would work in Asgard, and the team didn't want me at this party without some kind of protection."

He can't help but laugh at her excuse. The image of the assassin giving her a knife with a knowing glint in her eye makes it even funnier.

"Protection." He chuckles dryly, shaking his head slightly. His eyes meet hers again. "From what, exactly?"

"Handsy Asgardians, of course..."

His smirk becomes a grin, clearly enjoying her playfulness even as he shakes his head in mock disbelief.

"And how exactly does this tiny throwing knife protect you from those 'handsy Asgardians?'" he drawls, taking a step closer until he's standing right behind her.

"Stab someone enough times with it, it will be effective protection... but that's not the only one."
She pulls the skirt aside, opening the slit in the dress wider, revealing a band around her thigh holding 3 more knives.

His eyes drop to the knives strapped to her thigh, and for a moment, he just stares. Then he lets out a deep laugh, rich with amusement and appreciation.

"Darling," he says, shaking his head, "you’re even more trouble than I thought." He slides one blade free with deft fingers, testing its weight before looking back at her with wicked amusement. "I like it."

She shivers slightly as he slips one blade from her thigh strap.

"Nat is going to want these back, and you don't want to piss her off."

He lets out another low laugh, his fingers curling around the knife. He's enjoying the way his touch is having an effect on her. The way she shivers when he slides the blade from the strap is very telling…

"You're right, I don't. So I'll gladly give these back so I don't have a knife embedded in my chest in the middle of a party." He grins, taking a small step forward so his chest brushes against her back, his other hand moving to her hips, fingers gliding over her skin. He leans in until his lips are right beside her ear, close enough to feel the heat radiating from them against her skin. His voice is low and rough, with a hint of satisfaction in it. "But you do know that there are a few other places you might have hidden a knife that I'll need to check." His hand slides down from her hip to her thigh, his fingers trailing teasingly along her skin as his body presses against hers from behind.

"I promise there are no more hidden weapons or surprises, but I understand if you want to check thoroughly..." Her breathing and heart rate have picked up, and it's pretty obvious how much he is affecting her.

He can hear the change in her breathing and feel the fast thump of her heart; her body's response to him is clear as day. His hand continues trailing along her thigh, fingertips brushing against the inside of her leg. He leans in even more until his chin brushes lightly against her shoulder, lips nearly grazing her earlobe.

"Oh, I will." His voice is a low growl, full of promise and dark satisfaction. "Thoroughly and very slowly."

Chapter Text

Loki’s nose brushes against the slope of her neck, just below her ear, inhaling deeply. He's savoring her, enjoying drawing this out and getting her worked up in the process. His fingers crawl higher, tracing against her skin with teasing slowness, until his hand slips fully under her dress, exploring the bare skin of her thigh.

"I can't imagine that you're wearing any armor or weapons under here," he murmurs into her ear, lips almost touching her skin. "But I'm going to make absolutely sure."

She places her hand over his as he moves it over her skin, not to stop him or slow him down but just to have even more contact.

"This fabric is too light to conceal armor or much of anything." She presses back against him just slightly.

His fingers slide even higher, now moving along the inside of her bare thigh. His other hand tightens on her hip, his chin brushing against her earlobe once more. He's enjoying this more than he thought he would. He can feel how much she wants him, and he loves it.

"You're right, it is far too light." He breathes the words into her ear, his voice soft and deep. "That means there's nothing at all standing in the way of me exploring everything I want to."

"You know, it's late, and the party is still going while we are completely alone in your very nice room. I think it's the perfect time for you to explore and make some discoveries."

Her words make him chuckle slightly, the rumble of it deep and rich. He likes knowing that the party is continuing outside, and here they are, alone, with no one to interrupt them and all the time in the world to take things slowly. That knowledge makes the situation even more delicious.

"You've made quite the tempting argument," he murmurs, his fingertips now trailing along the edge of her panties, teasingly close to where he really wants to touch her. "I would be a fool not to take advantage of it."

She gasps so softly, and her head falls back against his shoulder as his fingers brush so close.

"Please...you have my permission to take full advantage of our time alone."

He makes a pleased sound deep in his chest at her response, the soft gasp, the way she leans back into him. It’s all the encouragement he needs. His fingers finally dip beneath the fabric, sliding against warm, damp skin.

"I intend to." His voice is rough with hunger now as his lips find her neck, kissing along the delicate curve of it while his fingers explore further, slow and teasing at first before building to something more demanding. "Every. Last. Second."

She melts against him, wanting as much contact as she possibly can get. Her knees get weak. Being in this position with him behind her, she can't do much but turn her head to kiss him. It's such delicious torture.

He meets her halfway without hesitation, lips meeting hers as his arm wraps around her waist, keeping her pressed back against him. His tongue slides into her mouth, and he kisses her fiercely, hungrily, a low groan building in his throat. He wants her more than he's ever wanted anything, and his touch is showing her just how much. His hand works between her thighs, teasing at first, his fingers still exploring slowly, but his touch is slowly growing more desperate, more impatient…

Gwen's breath catches as she feels the unmistakable push of his growing arousal pressing against her lower back. The realization makes heat flood through her - he wants this just as badly as she does. She reaches back with one hand, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt at his hip, anchoring herself to him while he works her over with those clever fingers.

A particularly skilled stroke of his thumb has her breaking their messy kiss to gasp sharply against his mouth.

"Loki-"

The way she breathes out his name sounds like both a plea and a prayer. Her grip tightens on him, knuckles going white where they fist in silk.

She wants more. She wants him right now, but she doesn't dare move; she's not even sure if she could. The only thing she can think about now is him and all the things she wants to do to him, with him. She almost curses herself for waiting this long, but she knows that if they had done anything earlier, it probably wouldn't be nearly as good as this.

He can't think anymore. Not when she's all but trembling in his arms, his name on her lips, her body pressed back against him like she needs him. It's almost too much for him to take. He wants to take her right now, right here, but there's a small part of him that wants to savor this for a while longer. He wants to pull more of those sounds from her, to feel her completely unravel beneath his touch. He wants all of it, wants all of her...

"I want you..." His voice comes out rough and barely above a whisper.

She makes a noise, something between a sigh and a moan. "You have no idea..."

Part of her wants to turn around, take control and trace the outline of every one of his toned muscles with her tongue. She wants to get on her knees to show him just how much she wants him and take him apart slowly with her mouth. The other part of her wants him to take the lead, to throw her on the bed and take her in any and every way he wants.

That sound she makes goes straight through him; the combination of her voice and the way she moves against his fingers nearly makes him lose all restraint. He can feel himself throbbing against her. He's already too close to coming apart just from touching her like this.

"Oh, I think I do." He groans out between slow, deliberate thrusts of his fingers inside her. "The way you're shaking for me... the sounds you're making... Tell me what you want. Tell me how to ruin you."

She feels like she'll go crazy without his hands on her, but she manages to pull it together.

"Stop. I want you to stop."

He goes still as a stone; the breath freezing in his chest. It takes every bit of his self-control to do as she asks, but he does it, pulling his hand from her. He can still feel her heat, the dampness at his fingers, and wants nothing more than to go back to touching her, to drive her over the edge, but he obeys, stepping back just slightly.

His eyes rake over her as he regains control of his breathing, his voice rough when he speaks. His jaw is clenched so tight he can barely get the words out.

"Why?"

She turns around to face him. It was difficult to ask him to stop.

"I need more." She grabs his hips and presses herself against him as she tilts her head to kiss his neck softly. "I need you." Her fingertips graze the skin at the waist of his pants.

The feel of her lips on his neck, her words, and the way she presses against him almost make him lose all sense of reason. He's so damn hard, aching for her, and she's just teasing him with her words and hands.

"Then take me," he murmurs, his voice deep and commanding. He watches her, his fingers itching to touch her again, but he clenches his hands instead. He wants to let her have complete control this time. He wants to make her take what she wants.

The corner of her mouth turns up in a smile. She keeps her eyes on his as she undoes the fastenings on his pants. She kisses down his neck and then slowly sinks to her knees. She looks up at him for a moment, almost as if looking for permission, but she knows she already has it. She wastes no more time as she frees him from his pants and begins to use her hand and mouth on him.

He gasps sharply, his hands instinctively tangling in her hair as she takes him in hand. His hips twitch forward before he can stop them, and when her mouth is suddenly on him, slick and hot, he sees stars.

"Gods..." he chokes out between ragged breaths, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. He fights the urge to thrust into that perfect mouth of hers, but it's agony holding back like this. "That's it...just like that..."

She moans around him at the feeling of his fingers tightening their grip in her hair. She loves it. Gwen works faster, taking him deeper and deeper.

He's trying so damn hard to hold back, but the vibration of her moan combined with how eagerly she takes more of him is undoing him fast.

"Fuck—" his voice cracks, his hips jerking forward before he can stop them. "You're going to make me—" He doesn't even finish the sentence before his fingers clench in her hair and he comes apart completely with a groan that borders on desperate.

Gwen takes everything he had to give without hesitation.

There are just a few blissful, silent moments of them both catching their breath before he finally lets go of her hair and gently tugs her up.

"Come here," he murmurs, his voice still a low growl as he pulls her to her feet to kiss her hungrily, his hands moving over her body to pull at her dress. "I want you out of this. Now."

"Help me. These Asgardian dresses have so many ties and straps..." She likes the dress but curses its belts and ties.

He chuckles as he starts on the ties and straps, nimble fingers working fast and efficiently. He's impatient, but there's something exciting about peeling away the layers to get at the prize underneath.

"I swear the purpose of these fancy dresses is to drive men mad." He mumbles as he undoes the last of the fastenings and the dress slides to the floor.

"I think it worked." She laughs a little as the dress falls away.

His eyes roam over her, and his breath hitches as he drinks in the sight in front of him: all that bare skin, her hair messy and wild from his hands. Just as he'd imagined, but somehow a hundred times better.

"Damn right it did." He murmurs, fingers trailing over her soft curves as he steps forward. He picks her up and lays her down on the bed without another word, covering her body with his own as he captures her mouth in a hungry kiss.

She wraps her arms around him and spreads her legs to let him fit in perfectly against her. She is relieved and glad he is ready and willing for more.

He presses into her, his mouth kissing a trail down her neck, over her chest as his hands slide down her sides to her hips. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering up to meet hers.

"Anything off limits?" he murmurs softly, his lips pausing against her collarbone. He could already feel his body responding to the feel of her body underneath him, the way her fingers were tracing over his shoulders and down his arms … he wanted her, all of her.

"With you? God, no," she huffs out a small laugh.

He grins against her skin at that, her words sending a little thrill through him. It's exactly the answer he wants to hear.

"Good," he murmurs, his hands moving down the backside of her thighs, lifting her legs higher as he positions himself between them. His eyes are dark with desire as they trail over every inch of her body. "Because I was planning on having every part of you, in every way possible, tonight."

"You better mean that." She pulls him closer and kisses him, arching her back and rolling her hips against him. She wants everything he has to give in every way.

He groans at the way she arches up into him, her hips rolling like that—Gods, she’s perfect. His hands tighten on her thighs as he pulls back just enough to smirk down at her.

"Oh, darling," he purrs between kisses along her jaw, "when have I ever said something I didn’t mean?" Then he shifts his grip and flips them both over in one smooth motion, pressing a hand to the small of her back so she straddles him properly, his expression pure wicked intent. "Now, let me show you exactly how serious I am."

He moves again, turning them in another smooth turn of motion, putting him on his knees with her in his lap, straddling his thighs. His mouth finds her collarbone again, his hands splaying across her back, one going up to tug at her loose curls roughly and the other moving down to her thigh in a firm grip.

"I told you I was going to take you all night, and that was no lie." He murmurs against her skin, pressing a trail of kisses down her neck, stopping just above her breast to press an open-mouthed kiss just above her heart.

She holds him close. There is no space between them now. She is in his hands. This is more than just lust and a quick, meaningless night together. She could have left that party with Einarr or another warrior, probably even Thor, if that's all she wanted, but she wants Loki and she wants everything he has to give. If it ends up being just tonight, which is likely since she goes back to Earth in the morning, at least she got a night of something good and real.

He can feel the change in her, even without looking at her face, in the way she holds herself tighter to him, the feel of her hand in his hair at the base of his neck... it makes his heart ache even as the heat pools low in his stomach and he can feel himself growing impossibly harder.

"I can't wait anymore," he murmurs against her skin, lifting his head to meet her eyes. "I need—I need you."

"Yes,” Gwen nods. You have me."

He surges forward then, kissing her deeply and possessively as he pushes them back into the pillows. The desperation in his movements is real, not practiced seduction but raw need. And when he finally takes her, it's with a reverence that should be impossible for the God of Mischief... but there it is anyway.

Because tonight, she isn't just another conquest. She's something rarer.
Something real.

When they are spent, when they are both boneless and panting in each other's arms, Loki pulls her close to his chest and buries his face in the crook of her neck. His fingers, now gentle and soft, trace lazy patterns along her back, drawing invisible designs on her skin.
He's tired. It's rare that he's this exhausted from a night of lovemaking. As he starts to drift off to sleep, he presses a single kiss to the top of her head and murmurs softly against her hair.
"Mine."

She snuggles into him. He asked her to stay with him and not in the guest rooms Thor had set up for her and the other Avengers. That alone is amazing. But she didn’t just get a night of talking with someone she connected with; no, she got a night of passion with the God of Mischief. She tries to fight sleep. She wants to soak up every last minute with him.

Her body relaxes against his, the fight against sleep proving futile as warmth and exhaustion pull her under. The last thing she feels is the faint brush of his fingers combing through her hair before oblivion takes her.

Chapter Text

Morning comes too soon.

Gwen wakes to empty space where Loki should be. Cold sheets, a rumpled indentation in the furs beside her, the only proof he was here at all. The scent of him lingers on the pillows, but he's gone.
No note.
No goodbye.

...Of course there wasn’t.

Gwen sits up, wrapping the sheets around herself as she looks around the empty chamber. The faint sounds of Asgardian morning filter through the windows: birdsong, distant voices, the clatter of armor as guards change shifts.

Her chest tightens.

She knew this was likely. A single night with Loki wasn't some grand romance. It was fun. A fling before she returned to Earth with her team.

So why does it feel like a fist clenched around her ribs?

A breath in. A breath out. Practicality wins out over emotion as it always does for Gwen Barkridge, botanist and Avenger who doesn't get attached after one night with a god known for his silver tongue and vanishing acts.

"Right." She exhales sharply through her nose and swings her legs off the bed to find her scattered clothes across Loki’s floor, the same way all their things had ended up tangled together last night before being abandoned in favor of more urgent pursuits.

Loki pressing open-mouthed kisses down between freckled shoulder blades, his hands gripping sharp hipbones hard enough to bruise later when he turned Gwen onto her back again and whispered filthy promises against flushed skin until neither could think straight...

Gwen shakes off the memory like water from wet hair, like shaking off an old dream upon waking. She dresses methodically: leathers laced snugly back into place, boots tugged on firmly, no sign left behind that she was ever here at all, just how Loki probably prefers it. Only when she is fully clothed does she finally notice something gleaming on his bedside table, where no trinket rested before now:

A single golden apple.

She picks up the apple and inspects it. It’s heavier than it looks and warm against her palm. It seems to shimmer in the morning light. Of course he’d leave something beautiful and infuriating instead of a note. She sets it back down with a soft huff.

“A parting gift?” she mutters, setting it back with a shake of her head. “Figures. No note, just a souvenir.”

She doesn’t realize that on Asgard, such an apple is never a casual token.

She knows that no matter how special her connection was with Loki that it was only one night. She doesn't regret it one bit. She just wishes she could say goodbye.

Gwen doesn't have the capability or the access to travel between realms alone. Asgard isn't a place for Midgardians or mortals. Loki can come to Earth if he wants to see her again, but he definitely wouldn't be welcome after his invasion a couple of years ago.

Gwen puts on a smile as she greets her friends. They all look just as tired as she does since they spent their night drinking at the party.

Thor’s booming voice greets her first.

"Little flower! I was just about to send warriors to wake you. I thought perhaps my brother had stolen you away for one last adventure!" His grin is teasing, but his eyes flicker briefly over her expression before he tactfully shifts the topic. "The others are still groaning about the mead's strength. Clint nearly walked into a pillar. You, however, look as if you barely drank at all!" A blatant lie; Gwen knows her tiredness is obvious. But Thor has always been kind like that.

As Heimdall activates the Bifrost’s swirling light, Gwen takes one last glance back at Asgard’s golden spires. Somewhere in those towers is a god who didn't say goodbye... and an apple left behind on a nightstand like a punchline to a joke she doesn't understand. But then again, Loki has never been good with words when they matter most.

Thor has always been a good friend, and she appreciates him. She almost wishes she had chosen him last night, but she's glad she didn't risk ruining their friendship. No, she chose Loki knowing all the risks. They were worth it, though. The ache she feels will fade with time. She'd rather have him for one night and lose him than never have him at all.

When the team arrives in New York, Gwen goes straight to her apartment in the tower. She wants coffee, a long shower, and a day to wallow in the emptiness she suddenly feels without Loki. That one night made a deep impression. She'll be better tomorrow.

The day drags on and on. There are meetings to attend with Fury and other Avengers. Training sessions … lunch with the team … and by evening Gwen is still no closer to figuring out why the hell she can't stop thinking of a certain Asgardian god. It was supposed to be one night; she reminds herself. A one-and-done fling before getting back to her real life back on Earth.

No more pining for Loki, no matter how damn much she wants to. She refuses to let that happen.

A few weeks of the same routine follow, but she still can't shake the bittersweet feelings that come from time to time. She had a wonderful night, probably the best night of her life, but that's all she gets. A night spent in Asgard is rare, and a night spent in the bed of a god even more so.

***

One day after lunch, she got sick. She brushes it off. Maybe she just ate too much pizza. She doesn't think much of it until the next day when she gets sick again.

"No ..."

She stares at her reflection in the mirror, hands gripping the edges of the sink so hard her knuckles turn white. The last three weeks replay in her mind, the fatigue, the nausea she blamed on stress or bad takeout. She'd dismissed it all … until this morning when her powers reacted oddly to a simple potted fern in SHIELD's lab.

Plants have never withered at Gwen's touch before.

A hysterical laugh bubbles up as she remembers Loki’s parting "gift,” the golden apple left silently on his nightstand.
Not a dismissal. A gift — one she hadn’t understood.
“You tried to give me forever,” she whispers. “And I left it sitting there like a fool.”
Her stomach twists. The irony almost hurts. He’d offered her immortality, and instead she’s carrying his mortal child.

She should have brushed up on her mythology before visiting Asgard. She should have known it wasn't some dumb joke or blow off but why wasn't he there? Why did he leave?

No, stop thinking about whys and what-ifs, she tells herself. Don't panic. Take a test. Tell the team and sit out of missions. She has no way of contacting Loki on her own, and Thor isn't here to pass any messages along. Does she even want to tell him?

She won't say anything. She will not make him feel obligated to her and this baby when they only had one night. Besides, aren’t there plenty of mythologies where this stuff happens all the time? It doesn’t mean he’ll want to be around.

She sits on the bathroom floor, back against the cold tiles, staring at the test in her trembling hands. The second line is unmistakable. The hum of the tower continues around her like nothing has changed. For everyone else, it hasn’t. For her, everything has.
A laugh tears from her throat, too loud, too bitter. “Well, of course.”
Loki always leaves a little chaos behind.
A child. His child.
Would he even care? Would he vanish again like last time?
She presses a hand to her stomach. “Guess it’s just you and me now.”
Then, softer: “We’ll be fine.”
It’s the kind of thing she says when she doesn’t believe it yet.

Chapter Text

JARVIS' voice pipes up from above:

"Gwen? Dr. Banner is asking for you in lab three."

Gwen collects herself and stands up. She can do this. People get pregnant every day. Adjusting to having super powers, now that's something to freak out about, not a baby … an alien god from another realm's baby...

Gwen smooths her clothing and gets to lab three to speak to Bruce, taking a steadying breath before opening the door.

"Hey, there. You called?"

Bruce barely glances up from his microscope, gesturing to a dying fern specimen on the lab table. "You said your powers were acting up earlier. I wanted to test something. This plant's been withering since you walked in." He finally looks at her properly and freezes.

"Gwen... are you okay? You're pale as a sheet." His brow furrows, scientific curiosity shifting to concern in an instant. "And your energy readings are spiking in weird ways I've never—"

The fern crumbles to dust between them.

"No tests necessary. I'm just...sick. I know the plants look bad, but I'm fine. I'll be fine. Just no more missions for me for a while, okay?"

Bruce slowly removes his glasses, studying her with the quiet intensity of a man who's spent years detecting lies, both as a scientist and an Avenger.

"Gwen." He keeps his voice deliberately gentle, but there's no mistaking the urgency beneath it. "I’ve monitored your vitals for three years. Your ‘energy spiking like this’ isn’t stress or food poisoning. It’s—"

His eyes dart to the dust of the fern, then back to her stomach. Realization dawns.

"...Oh."

She knows he knows.

"Don't say anything. I'll figure out telling the team and SHIELD."

The others might have an idea and put two and two together — that weeks ago at the party, she disappeared for the night, and so did Loki. She never spoke of it to any of them.

Bruce exhales sharply through his nose, rubbing his temples like he’s already mentally drafting containment protocols for godly pregnancy side effects. But when he speaks, it’s with unshakable steadiness, the voice of a man who’s learned to handle world-ending revelations without flinching.

"Alright. No missions. But Gwen," he meets her eyes squarely. "If your powers keep destabilizing? Or if Loki decides to waltz back in? You tell me first. Understood?"

The subtext is clear: Banner won’t let SHIELD turn her into an experiment. And if a certain trickster shows up unannounced … well, the Other Guy has opinions about absentee fathers.

She hugs him.

"Thank you. I'm not telling Loki. I have no way of doing so anyway besides messages sent through Thor, and I'm certainly not telling him either."

Bruce freezes at the unexpected hug, surprised but he eventually relaxes, even returning the hug after an awkward moment.

"Of course." He pulls back, offering an uncharacteristic smile. "This is gonna be okay, Gwen. For both of you. You're not in this alone, alright? Not by a damn long shot."

"I know," she manages a smile. "I'm going to rest. When I eventually tell the team, act surprised."

His eyes soften slightly, and he nods, then smirks.

"Oh, trust me. I'll give the performance of a lifetime in feigned surprise when the time comes."

And with that, he shoos her away, already diving back into lab work and muttering about monitoring her for changes. Gwen knows he'll be busy for hours now with research.

***

Months pass, and Gwen is very obviously pregnant now—around seven months along. She told the team it was a one-night stand (not a lie) but never said when or where and certainly not who.
Unfortunately, Thor chooses this moment to return to Earth.
Because of course he does.
Why would the universe ever allow things to be simple?
Thor breezes into Avengers Tower with all the bluster and cheer expected from the God of Thunder: loud, boisterous, and utterly oblivious as he claps Gwen on the back and grins.
“My little flower!”
He pauses, eyes widening as he takes in just how much she’s showing now.
“…You’ve grown… rounder,” he says at last, entirely earnest.
“Wow, Thor.” Gwen isn’t upset; she knows him well enough to understand that he blurts things out without malice, and she loves him for it. “Yes, I’ve gotten rounder.”
“Very … uh…” Thor scratches his cheek, searching for the right word as he gestures toward her stomach. “Full,” he finally declares, proud of himself for finding a suitably neutral term.
A few beats pass with him still staring before realization strikes like lightning.
“Wait! You are not just round—you are with child?!”
There’s no hiding it now.
“Yes,” Gwen admits, unable to keep from smiling. “With child… children, actually. Twins.”
Thor’s reaction is immediate: he sweeps her into a crushing hug, laughing as he spins her around. She’s heavy with her pregnancy, but Thor barely notices. His joy is too immense.
“Two children! This is marvelous, little flower! I am so happy for you!” He beams at her, eyes bright. “And who is the lucky father? Some man in your life, yes? Does he know of this good news? I must shake his hand! It is customary, is it not? For a man to—”
"The father is not around. He doesn't even know."

That is enough to stop Thor short in his tracks. He sets her back on her feet with a gentleness that's almost unnatural for him, eyes searching her face carefully. Concern clouds his expression as he studies her for a moment before speaking.

"He does not know," he repeats quietly, "…why, little flower? This is a joyous moment. Shouldn't he know his children are arriving? Does he not care?"

She tries to explain as best she can. "The father and I don't have a relationship at all. It was one night. I can't even contact him to tell him. Not sure I want to, actually. I'm fine. The babies are fine. Everything is...fine."

Thor still looks troubled. It's not simply that he doesn't like seeing Gwen alone; he's also still trying to process what she said,—one night, no relationship, not even a way to contact the father, the father doesn't know...

"You have no way to speak to him at all, little flower? None?"

"There is one way, but I don't want to. I don't want him to feel obligated to me or the babies. I'd rather be alone than have someone choose me out of guilt or obligation."

Thor frowns, still not satisfied, but it's clear he respects Gwen enough to know she won't be swayed on this. Still ... something about her explanation makes him pause.

"And if the father ever did find out..." His voice drops a little, "Would he come for you?"

"I don't know." She's heard plenty of stories of gods not knowing or not caring about the mortals they got pregnant or the kids they had. Thor and Loki are centuries old. Statistically, this had to have happened before to them. They never speak of any current or past children, so Gwen can only assume ... why would she be any different from the others?

"I'm not sure he would even care."

Thor's frown deepens as he processes the meaning behind her words. He'd known this "father" was a one-night stand, but the more she says, the more it seems like it was also a careless one, and that does not sit well with him or the protective instincts of any Asgardian man. The thought of a man siring children and not taking responsibility is... abhorrent.

He gently squeezes her shoulder.

"Gwen," his voice quiet, "what is the father's name?"

"Thor,” she sighs. “It doesn't matter. If he wanted me again, he would have come back for me at some point over the last few months, but he didn't. I don't want him coming back just because of the babies."

Thor shakes his head, jaw tightening at the thought of not just one, but two babies being brought into the world by someone who doesn't even want to be in their lives. It's unacceptable. Every muscle seems to go rigid, and he actually looks angry on her behalf.

"Tell me the name, Gwen."

Gwen says nothing, not wanting to say his name out loud. She simply looks Thor in the eye because she knows that is enough. He'll be able to read it clear as day in her eyes.
The team sitting around will be shocked too. The only one on the team who knows who the father is‌ Bruce, and he hasn't said anything.

Thor freezes.

"...Loki." He says the name as if it's been punched out of him. His grip on her shoulder tightens, not in anger, but in stunned realization.

The team around them reacts instantly, some gasping, others going silent. Bruce rubs his temples like he knew this was coming.

Thor doesn't yell or rage like they might expect. He just stares at Gwen with an expression torn between disbelief and growing protectiveness for her and the unborn children she carries, children that are his brother’s flesh and blood.

Thor drops to one knee, lowering his head reverently to lay a gentle hand on her swollen belly.

"...My little nephews." His voice is thick with emotions he can't quite put words to. He swallows against the lump in his throat, fingers almost trembling as he carefully traces the curve of her stomach.

"One nephew. One niece." She smiles softly at Thor.

He looks up at Gwen again, expression solemn and protective as he finally speaks the question she's been avoiding.

"...Can you tell me exactly how this came to be?"

"The night of the party when you invited us all to Asgard, I... Well, I left with Loki and spent the rest of the night with him. He showed me his favorite rooms, we talked, we argued, we... Well, anyway, even after all that, he left me alone in his room in the morning. We didn't even say goodbye. This is going to sound stupid, but it felt real between us,” Gwen takes a deep breath. “But I don't belong in Asgard, and he can't come here after the whole invasion thing..."

The two possible outcomes she thinks of are both unacceptable to her. She thinks he'll find out and be with her out of obligation, which is so heartbreaking and might even be worse than the other possibility of just not caring at all.

Thor exhales sharply, pressing a fist to his mouth before dragging it down his beard. The protective rage in his chest wars with the absurdity of the situation. Loki, of all people … But then he looks at Gwen’s face and remembers how fiercely happy she looked that night, laughing in the gardens with mead in hand.

He rises slowly and pulls her into a careful hug; the kind reserved for widows after battles or warriors carrying wounds too deep to name.

"Listen to me." His voice rumbles against her temple. "If my brother has any sense left in that hollow skull of his, he will crawl through Yggdrasil’s roots itself to kneel at your feet when he learns this."

A pause. Then, almost reluctantly: "...Would you even want him here?"

She thinks for a moment. Even faced with the outcomes she doesn't want, in her heart she still wants him. She finally admits it quietly. "Yes."

His grip tightens reflexively as he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head before stepping back to study her expression once again, reading the truth in her eyes. His expression is one she hasn't seen before: resigned. Sad. But not upset.

"...Then I will... I will bring him to you."

He cups her face carefully with one giant hand, as if she is some priceless object he must protect.

"Thor, find out if he even wants to see me again before we tell him about the twins."

He exhales sharply through his nose, an old, frustrated habit. But then he gives her a single solemn nod.

"As you wish. I will seek him out." His hand squeezes hers once before turning toward the balcony doors but hesitates, shoulders tense. "...But Gwen? If he doesn't want to see you after all this time..." His voice drops to something low and dangerous. "Then that is his greatest mistake yet."

He doesn’t wait for a reply before striding out into the night.

Gwen sits on the couch in the common room after Thor is gone. The team has been silently observing this entire exchange.

"Alright, go ahead, say what you want now that you know the truth."

They look back and forth between themselves awkwardly, no one sure who should speak up first and all too aware that this might be a sensitive matter. Bruce finally clears his throat and speaks for the team.

"...You okay, Gwen?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Thank you." She answers any questions they have before going back to her apartment. She needs rest, although how she is going to stop the swirl of thoughts is a mystery to her.

The next morning, Thor walks onto the sparring deck, Mjölnir swinging at his side as he approaches an archery range where Loki is training. Loki is too focused to notice him, firing arrow after arrow at the bulls-eye with flawless accuracy.

Thor stops at the edge of the deck, waiting to get his brother's attention. "Brother."

Loki lets the last arrow fly—a perfect bullseye—before lowering his bow and turning to face Thor with a smirk.

"Come to admire my skill, brother? Or do you finally wish for archery lessons after all these centuries?"

He notices Thor's uncharacteristically serious expression. The amusement fades from his voice as he cocks his head.

"...What is it?"

The last traces of amusement on Thor's face vanish as he steps onto the archery deck, stopping a few feet from Loki.

"It's Gwen." He says the name quietly, and it's enough to make Loki's expression sharpen at once.

"What about her?" The question is careful, cautious, like he's already half expecting the worst.

Thor wants to tell him, but he will respect Gwen's wishes to find out if Loki wants to see her again before telling him about the twins.

As if on instinct, Loki's hand tightens around the bow he holds in his grip. It's almost imperceptible, but Thor still catches it and frowns. He knows his brother better than anyone else. But he doesn't call him out on the tension. Not yet.

"She wants to speak with you. But I told her I would ask you first: would you even bother?"

Despite the carefully neutral mask he's wearing, Loki's heart skips a beat. For the first time in months, Thor sees a flicker of something genuine in his brother's expression: a mix of relief and something close to...hope? He schools his features back into their usual casual expression and scoffs, gesturing to the archery range with a careless wave of his hand. He's doing his best to sound bored.

"...And if I don't want to see her?"

****

Gwen waits patiently on Earth for Thor to return with an answer. All these months, the only way she could contact Loki was through Thor, but Thor wasn't even around either. Loki could have sent a message; he could have come to New York, even for a minute. He knows where she is. This whole thing is pointless, she thinks. Why would he want to see her now when he had months to do it? Does he think she would reject him?

Thor returns to Midgard with a stormy expression, his usual boisterous energy replaced by something more subdued. When he finds Gwen, he hesitates, not sure how much to reveal about his brother’s stubbornness.

"He's being an idiot," he finally admits gruffly. "He asked me what you wanted. As if he hadn't been pacing the halls of Asgard for months, pretending not to care." His jaw tightens briefly before adding, "...I think you should go there yourself. He won’t admit it, but Loki doesn’t believe himself worthy of this, of you. And if anyone can make him see reason..."

Gwen thinks it over for a few minutes before giving Thor an answer.

"You'll take me to Asgard?"

Thor’s face brightens instantly, like storm clouds parting to reveal sunlight. He grips her shoulder, beaming.

"I thought you'd never ask." Then his expression turns more serious, just for a moment. "But Gwen... he won't make this easy. Are you certain?"

"Not at all, but I have to face this."

Gwen takes a minute to get dressed in the Asgardian gown she wore months ago for the party. Their dresses are loose and secured with belts and ties, so she ties them loosely. It doesn't conceal the pregnancy, but it fits and still looks pretty good. Maybe she should wear Asgardian clothes more often, she laughs to herself.

"I'm ready, Thor."

Thor looks both worried and hopeful at once as he offers his arm to escort her out into the tower's main hallway.

"We leave at once. And you will have to be prepared for him to be...well, stubborn as always. But if anyone can get through that thick skull of his, it’s you, I have no doubt." He pauses to eye her Asgardian gown with approval. "You look lovely, by the way. Asgard definitely suits you."

"Thank you." She gives Thor a warm smile. She almost laughs at the thought of that night months ago — the mead, the stories, the wrestling match between Thor and Loki on her behalf, and then there was all the flirting with Loki, of course, but also Thor and Einarr. She wonders what the outcome would have been if she had made any other choices that night.

Thor calls the Bifrost, and the two of them are transported instantly to Asgard.

Chapter Text

The moment they arrive, the golden spires of Asgard loom overhead, but Thor wastes no time. He marches toward the palace with purpose.

"Wait here," he tells Gwen near one of the courtyard gardens. Then, in a rare act of mischief for him, he adds with a smirk, "...I have an idiot to retrieve."

Minutes pass before she hears hurried footsteps and then there's Loki. His hair is slightly disheveled from what was clearly Thor dragging him here against his will.

"This is ridiculous," Loki snaps as his brother shoves him forward. "There’s nothing to discuss."

But then he actually looks at her.

Gwen keeps a neutral face and stands there still and silent, letting Loki take her in. She spent months telling herself she didn't want this moment with Loki. She wanted him to come to her and wanted him to come without knowing about the babies. She wanted him to come because he wanted her.

Loki's eyes, usually so sharp and full of clever words, go utterly still. He scans her face, the soft swell of her stomach barely visible beneath the Asgardian gown, and his breath catches just slightly.

She hears Thor quietly back away to give them privacy.

"You're... here," Loki says finally, voice quieter than she's ever heard it. His hands twitch at his sides as if he wants to reach for her but isn't sure he's allowed. "...Why?"

"Oh well, I left my favorite pair of sunglasses here..." She answers sarcastically as if the answer wasn't completely obvious. She pauses for a moment before huffing slightly, upset with herself.
"This was a mistake. I knew it was, but I came anyway..." She turns away from him.

He moves before she can take a step, one hand catching her wrist, gentle but firm.

"Don't." His voice is rough, almost desperate. "Don’t go. Not yet." His fingers slide down to weave with hers, hesitant but deliberate, as he steps closer. When she turns back to look at him, there's no smirk, no clever deflection. Just raw honesty in his gaze. "...Tell me it's mine," he breathes, "and I'll spend every second proving I deserve you both."

She wants to answer. She opens her mouth to confirm, but instead all her thoughts come tumbling out.

"You never came to visit. You never sent a message or gave me any clue that that night meant anything. I thought it did but then you were gone in the morning without a goodbye. I should have expected it but silly me for believing you of all people, right?"

He sighs heavily, fingers tightening around hers almost subconsciously. The tension in his lean muscles is tangible, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap.

"I was trying to give you an out," he admits quietly, eyes downcast, unable to meet hers as he finally confesses, "I wanted to give you a chance to return to a normal life. You don't want a life with me. You deserve far better, and you and I both know that."

"That's bullshit. I know you better than you think, and I know when you want something, you find a way to get it without a care for anyone else. If you had wanted me, you would have done something."

His fingers tremble faintly as he lifts his gaze to hers, the raw honesty in his blue eyes like shards of glass in his soul.

"I did want you," he says quietly, almost tenderly. "I wanted you from the moment I saw you. You were smart, strong, gorgeous... but more than that, you didn't give a damn about titles or power. You were just... you. And I wanted that. I still do. More than anything." He takes a shuddering breath and confesses. "I gave you an apple so you’d never be bound by the mortal world again. I never imagined you’d bring a mortal piece of me into it.”

"That apple..." she says softly, almost to herself. "I thought it was just some godly gesture, not... whatever that meant." She shakes her head, half-smiling. "Guess it doesn’t matter now."

"You want me because I'm me, not because of..." She touches her belly.

His gaze drifts down to where her hand rests atop her stomach. Something flashes across his face like pain, regret, maybe, or fear. But he shakes it off quickly before meeting her gaze again, a small, bitter smile playing at the corner of his mouth as he steps even closer. His fingers slide up her arm to rest against her shoulder, thumb absently tracing the delicate freckles beneath her eye.

"I want you…" he says again, quieter this time. "And I want this child."

"Children," she corrects, gently. "Twins. Boy and girl."

If possible, Loki's eyes widen even more at her words, his jaw going slack as his gaze drops back to her stomach. For once in his life, he looks completely speechless.

"Twins?" he breathes. His hand drifts lower to press gently against her stomach—and he seems to do it without even realizing it, like he can't help himself, like he needs to feel the babies for himself in order to believe it.

Would you like to know what I've been calling them?” She pauses with a smile. "Varian and Liv. Sorry for not asking your opinion first."

The smile that blooms across Loki's face is wide, completely unguarded and full of tenderness. His fingers trail over her stomach again, as if he's committing its gentle curve to memory. "Varian and Liv," he repeats quietly, testing the names on his tongue. He glances up at her hopefully. "...they're beautiful. Are you... are you sure you want me in their lives at all? I can do many things, but I have no idea what to do with a baby—much less two."

"You'll figure it out if you want to, that is. I will leave it up to you. You decide what you want; I won't force you...but Thor might." She laughs again.

"He's threatened worse," Loki admits with a snort. Despite everything, a small smirk appears on his face. Then he catches her gaze again, something almost vulnerable in his eyes as he whispers, "And yes. I want to. More than you know, but..." He hesitates, fingers tightening ever so slightly around her hip. He looks almost pained when he forces the words out.

"...Are you... are you still angry with me? For leaving without saying goodbye?"

"Yes." She doesn't hesitate to answer truthfully. "Of course I'm still angry and hurt. You made me feel like an idiot. It's one thing to have a one-night stand and know that's all it is; it's another to spend it the way we did, with everything we said, and then leave without a word."

He flinches as if she's struck him. The hand on her hip curls slightly into a fist before he forces himself to loosen it, jaw tight with guilt.

"I deserved that," he mutters darkly, looking away for a moment. Then his gaze snaps back to hers, raw and unguarded in a way he so rarely is. "But I swear to you, on the Nine Realms themselves, it wasn’t out of indifference. I thought... foolishly... that if I stayed longer, it would only complicate things when you inevitably left."

A bitter laugh escapes him as he shakes his head. "And yet here we are."

"Here we are..." She repeats softly. "Totally uncomplicated and ...totally alone for months."

His grip on her hip tightens slightly again, as if he's struggling to keep himself from pulling her closer.

"I'm here now, aren't I? I'm staying. Anything you need, you only have to ask."

He says it like a promise, but his eyes keep flickering to her stomach again—like he can't believe the proof of two children is there beneath their hands.

She nods. She doesn't know what she needs from him. She had done this alone for months so far and was prepared to be alone with the twins indefinitely.

Loki studies her expression, the wariness there, the hint of uncertainty. He can read her like a book at that moment, and it makes his chest ache. Slowly, he lifts his other hand to frame her face between his palms, thumbs caressing her cheeks. His eyes roam her face like a starving man before finally meeting her gaze again, so impossibly tender that it's a stark contrast to his usual arrogance.

"Gods, you have no idea how much I missed you," he breathes. He's shaking—barely, but it's there. Just enough of a tremble for her to feel.

"I missed you," she responds so softly. One night together. One night full of drinks and games, jokes and arguments, playfulness and passion. A single night ‌forged a connection so strong that they both know that this will never be over.

He lets out a sharp exhale as if her confession steals the breath from his lungs. His fingers move to thread through strands of her hair, his eyes tracking the motion like he can't believe he's actually allowed to touch her like this.

"I kept thinking you would forget about me," he admits quietly, the words catching in his throat. "I wanted you to, I wanted you to be happy and forget me and find a man who deserved you, but..." His gaze drifts to her stomach again before returning to her face. "Clearly, the universe had other plans."

"It's you, Loki. It's been you since the moment we met on that balcony."

His touch sends a warmth through her that she has been missing since that night. She does her best to wrap her arms around his waist but can't pull him too close since her belly gets in the way.

He lets out a choked laugh, half amusement, half disbelief, as his arms wrap carefully around her in return. His chin rests gently atop her head, fingers tracing absent circles against the small of her back.

"And it'll be me until my last breath," he murmurs into her hair. Then he pulls back just enough to kiss the top of her head before meeting her eyes again with a small smirk. "...Unless you'd prefer I prove that vow on our wedding night instead?"

"Oh, don't start with big ideas like weddings. Start with just today."

He chuckles low and warm, and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Today, then. But just know I'll be holding you to it later," he murmurs before pressing another lingering kiss to the top of her head.

"We should get you settled first. Have you eaten? Should we..." His eyes dart toward the nearest bench like he's assessing how comfortable she must be standing for so long already. His overbearing concern would almost be amusing if it weren't so endearing.

She nods and takes a seat on the bench.

"We have a lot to figure out. We can't do this from two realms. I don't know how... We couldn't even be together, so how are we supposed to do this? I don't belong here. Do you think I'll even be allowed to stay? And you are a criminal on Earth, so..."

He takes the spot beside her with a weary sigh, resting one arm along the back of the bench to toy lazily with strands of her hair.

"One thing at a time," he reminds her quietly and gives her hip a gentle nudge with his knee. "I will handle the 'allowed' part of the situation. That much I can ensure. Odin might be a stubborn old bastard, but I know how to speak his language." He gives her a reassuring smile. "And the rest can wait. We'll figure it out, I promise."

Gwen rests her head on his shoulder. Even though there is so much to figure out now that Loki is back in the picture, she is relieved to have him with her again. She trusts he will do everything he can for their new little family.

His breath leaves him in one slow, contented exhale as she rests against him. His fingers thread gently through her hair, tender and reverent, as if he still can’t quite believe she's here with him again.

"We'll make it work," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "No matter what."

And for once in his life of tricks and schemes... he means every word.

Chapter Text

(Timeskip: 5 years. Setting: Asgard. Gwen has adapted to life there, but she’s still the outsider who married into the royal family.)

The grand garden behind the palace was alive with laughter and flying petals. Liv had coaxed a bed of golden blossoms to bloom where no plants had been that morning, while Varian charged through them with his toy sword, scattering petals into the air. Frigga clapped her hands in delight, her smile warm and proud.

“They are thriving,” she said to Gwen at her side. “They carry both your strength and their father’s cunning. Asgard will be better for them.”

Gwen smiled, but her chest ached at the words. Asgard was home now, yes, but only because Earth had become so distant. Did the Avengers even think of her anymore?

From a balcony above, Loki watched quietly. The shadows of his past misdeeds still lingered in whispers at court, and Gwen felt the weight of those stares.

Loki could see the way those stares affected Gwen, how she tried to shield herself from their judgment by turning her back, laughing and playing with Liv and Varian. But he could see through her attempts to make light of the situation, to brush away the whispers, and it broke his heart to know he was the reason she had to endure this. When their children ran off to play in the nearby flower garden with Frigga, Loki took a moment to approach Gwen.

"...Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Gwen looks up at Loki with a polite smile. "Of course."

She's changed in Asgard. That night, the night that changed their lives, Gwen was happy, full of life, for once enjoying the attention of the Asgardians who saw her as a pretty stranger, a warrior from a different realm.

Now the attention has changed. She is an outsider–a Midgardian mortal who dared to marry and have children with their troublesome prince. She puts on her practiced smile and pretends not to notice, but the looks and whispers over the last five years have worn on her.

Loki's eyes search her face as they walk, noting the tension behind that practiced smile, the stiffness in her back as she pretends not to notice the whispers. He hates to see her like this, hates that he's the reason she needs to put on that mask whenever they're in public. His voice is quiet when he speaks, for her ears alone.

"...Have you been sleeping well lately?" he asks carefully. He's been worried. She has looked exhausted for weeks.

She hesitates before answering, debating whether or not to tell him the truth. She sighs softly. "No, I haven't."

He lets out a low breath at the confession. Though he'd known she wasn't sleeping well for some time, it pains him to actually hear her say it.

"...Bad dreams?" he murmurs, his fingers brushing against her arm gently.

"That's some of it."

Even though she and Loki share so much and he understands her better than anyone, she doesn't want to burden him or be a problem. She is already looked down upon by some of the Asgardians, she doesn't want to make it worse by complaining and seeming ungrateful for this life in the palace.

His eyes narrow slightly as she speaks, picking up on the hesitation in her voice. He knows the way her thoughts work, and he hates how hard she's on herself. He turns to face her, taking her hands in his as he stops to pull her closer, keeping the conversation private between them. He has learned to tell when she's holding back for his sake.

"Tell me the other part," he says quietly, lifting his hand to caress her cheek, thumb tracing the dark under-eye circles.

"I'm just...afraid to sleep. When I sleep, I have to face the dreams, and then, I'm afraid that if I sleep, something or someone will hurt us."

Since the twins were born, she has kept them close. Their room is attached to Loki's. Now that the kids are older, privacy is harder to come by but she doesn't want them out of reach.

He sighs and cups her face in his hands, making sure she looks at him, really looks in his eyes. He's gentle but firm, knowing that she'll avoid this conversation if he lets her.

"You haven't been sleeping in our bed this week," he points out quietly, his gaze roaming her face, searching for any other signs that she's not eating or tending to her own needs as she has in the past. "Don't try to deny it."

"No, I've been watching over the kids. The dreams and feelings have gotten worse."

His jaw tightens again, concern creasing his forehead. He should have noticed sooner. Gods dammit. He hates himself for not noticing just how exhausted she looked. He hates the dark circles beneath her eyes and how pale her golden skin looks.

"How long have you been keeping watch over the twins like this? A few days? A week?" he asks quietly, his thumbs still stroking over her cheeks.

"A few days. If we both sleep, who can we trust to watch over them?"

She knows they have friends here. They aren't completely isolated. But when it comes down to it, who will protect the twins? Who is trustworthy and strong so as not to be corrupted by people who want to hurt them? Who can she trust to watch over the most precious things in the universe? She is being paranoid; she knows it . She has superpowers. She lives in a palace, married into a royal family of gods. Sure, there are threats, but really, the twins are in the safest place they could be.

His eyes soften at her words. She really has been overthinking.

"I promise you my love, our children are safe here," he murmurs, trying to soothe her with a gentle smile as he continues to caress her cheeks with his hands, his eyes studying hers. "The palace is secure. Our guards are loyal. The twins' rooms are protected by wards. You need to take care of yourself too. You can't protect them if you pass out from exhaustion."

"I know." She looks down, worn out and ashamed of her paranoia. It's not coming out of nowhere, but perhaps the bad dreams and exhaustion are making it all seem worse.
She whispers, "I miss Midgard."

At the sound of that lonely whispered confession, his breath leaves him as if he's been punched in the gut. His hands slide down to grip her shoulders, gently tightening, as if he's trying to keep himself grounded as well as her.

"...Do you regret coming here?" he asks quietly, dreading the answer. He already knows what she's going to say, but it's like a knife twisting between his ribs as he waits.

"No, no, I don't regret it. It's just...hard. There are people I miss, and simple things too, like movies and pizza and soda. And I'm still struggling to find my place here. I still feel like this isn't my home."

He exhales slowly, relief flooding his veins at her answer. He pulls her against him and presses a kiss to the top of her head before resting his cheek there, speaking softly.

"Then we’ll make it feel like home." A pause, then with quiet determination: "We'll visit Midgard when you wish. We’ll bring pizza back if that's what you crave, or I will tear open a portal myself just so you can watch those moving picture shows in your pajamas again."

He lifts his head just enough to meet her eyes again, thumb brushing over the shadows beneath them. "But first … please rest. I will watch over them tonight. I will keep them safe. So sleep knowing they are protected by their father and tomorrow, we make Asgard feel more like yours too."

She smiles softly. "I want the kids to learn about things on Midgard too. There's so much for them to see and experience."

That smile hits him like a wave of relief, warming him to the core. Gods, he loves this woman. He would do anything to keep her safe... and seeing her smile like this again is everything.

His hand lifts to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he leans forward to kiss her forehead gently. He can see her struggling to keep her eyes open, and he's even more determined to make sure she gets rest, no matter what he has to do.

"We will make that happen," he promises, his voice a low hush.

Gwen relaxes a little. She's felt so small and hollow lately.

"Thank you."

When her shoulders slump a little, he knows that's a good sign. She's not fighting to hold on anymore. He knows her too well. His arms slip around her, his fingers gently rubbing across her back. He's holding her, keeping her up, but she's so damn stubborn she'll push herself to the point of collapse and still try to act like everything is okay. He loves her for it, even if it absolutely kills him.

"Go to bed, Gwen. I've got them." His voice is firm, leaving no room for refusal.

She nods and gives him a quick kiss. The one person she trusts more than anyone in the universe is the God of Mischief, how funny life is...

She tries her best not to show weakness outside of their rooms. She doesn't need more whispers. She straightens her back again and fixes her face back into that pleasantly neutral mask and sets off down the corridors of the gleaming palace.

Loki watches her retreat down the hall, his mouth thinning into a grim line. He hates her pretending, hates that people are gossiping, whispering about her like she's a piece of meat and a problem for the royal family. If he were the same man he'd been years ago, there would be blood in the halls, but he has to restrain himself. For Gwen. For the twins … and for himself. He cannot lose what he has now. He won't make the same damn mistakes again.

Gwen knows the twins are safe with Loki and Frigga in the gardens. It's only early evening, but she knows the moment her head hits the pillow she will be asleep. She just hopes that she is so exhausted that the bad dreams won't come.

She smiles and nods in acknowledgement to every person she passes, servant and courtier alike. Living in the palace hasn't changed her politeness.

There are plenty of people here who like her. Some whispers and gossip are just about her background, not her personally, and some whispers are about Loki and how stupid she must be to tie herself to such a dangerous, unpredictable troublemaker. He is, that is the truth, but with her, he is the best.

She'll sleep, and everything will look better tomorrow.

"Rest well, my love," Loki murmurs softly as he watches her disappear down the corridor. His chest tightens with the need to follow, to wrap himself around her and keep her safe from nightmares, to make sure she sleeps through the night.

But for now... he has other matters to settle.

Turning sharply on his heel, he strides back toward Frigga and their children in the garden. The playful laughter of Liv and Varian is a balm against his lingering anger at those who whisper against Gwen behind closed doors. He forces a lighter expression as he approaches, but beneath it all, there’s already a plan forming in his mind.

He will find who has been making Gwen feel unwelcome.

And they will regret it.

Chapter Text

Loki has been prowling the halls, searching for anyone he suspects of having been gossiping about Gwen. The sleep he missed out on is nothing compared to his determination to put an end to the whispers that have been causing her so much strain, but so far, he's had no luck.

Then, he catches a couple of courtiers in a more private corner of the hall, whispering, and he pauses out of sight, eavesdropping on their conversation.

Their voices carry just enough for him to catch the words:

"...heard she can't even sleep without fear...some mortal weakness, I'd wager..."

"Pathetic. She’s not fit to be a mother to royal blood."

A cold, feral smirk curls on Loki’s lips as he steps into view, silent as a shadow, his magic already coiling around his fingertips. He lets them notice him on their own.

The moment they do, their faces pale in unison. It is delicious.

"Tell me," he purrs, "do you enjoy poisoning my wife's peace?...Or are you simply too stupid to know when your wagging tongues will cost you everything?"

***
The next few days pass in relative peace. The whispering has faded to nothing but memory, leaving the halls strangely still. Gwen knows it won’t last; it never does, but for now, she takes what calm she can.
By the end of the week, she feels steady enough to return to the training grounds. The air smells faintly of metal and dust, and the familiar space pulls at her muscles, urging her to move again.
Loki watches with a secret fondness as Gwen trains. He leans against the railing beside the training yard, arms crossed as he surveys the scene before him. He's grown so accustomed to seeing Gwen with their children, in soft dresses or comfortable clothes … it's almost surprising to see her wielding daggers and striking the training dummies so fluidly.

He's not the only one admiring her skill, either. Several of the young warrior men are stopping and starting to watch, clearly appreciating the view as well.

She catches Loki watching, and she smiles. He never saw her fight. She joined the Avengers after his invasion, and she met him at a party. Since then, she has been a mother and wife in Asgard.

Time hasn't dulled her form. Her training with SHIELD and the Avengers was extensive, and the muscle memory kicked back in the moment she picked up weapons again.

His gaze tracks her every movement across the training yard, admiring the fluid grace and deadly efficiency with which she dispatches another training dummy. This is a side of her he hasn't seen before... a reminder of the formidable warrior that lurks beneath the soft, gentle nature. The way the other warriors stare at her, clearly appreciating her skill and beauty... it makes something twist in his gut.

She is secretly pleased that she has an audience. These last few years, the whispers of her being a weak mortal almost had her believing it. She is glad to be showing these warriors what she can really do. She even recognizes a few of them from that party years ago.
Gwen finishes an exercise with daggers, small throwing knives, and her plant powers, of course, and stops to catch her breath.

The other warriors murmur among themselves, clearly impressed by her display of skill and power. Loki grits his teeth as he hears their hushed compliment and feels his jealousy burn hotter as his eyes fall on one particularly confident, cocky young warrior in the front who is staring at Gwen with an appraising eye.

In that very moment, all Loki wants to do is snap the little bastard’s neck. Unfortunately, he can’t exactly do that without causing a scene.

She feels good. The hushed whispers here are positive, not like the venomous comments in the palace. This is where she should be more often.

Most of these warriors might be young, strong, and handsome, but Gwen doesn't care about any of them. She only has eyes for Loki.

Loki's jaw clenches again as the young warrior, clearly impressed by Gwen's display of skill, steps forward with a cocky smirk to address her.

"My lady," he practically purrs, giving a slight bow before his gaze travels over her shamelessly. "That was truly impressive. Such a beautiful woman … with such skill. I can't help but wonder what other talents you might possess."

Every word seems to grate on Loki's nerves, and his hands instinctively curl into fists.

Gwen smiles pleasantly. "Oh, thank you. What a kind compliment. You’re curious about my other talents? Step in the ring here and I'd be happy to show you."

The young warrior grins, clearly delighted by her response. His eyes roam up and down her body once more before falling to the daggers in her hands. She can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he responds with an easy smirk. "I'm always up for a challenge."

Several of the other warriors watch on in eager anticipation, clearly egging their friend on. The look on Loki's face, however? Far from happy.

She shoots Loki a quick wink. She loves when people underestimate her. This warrior is well trained, that's for sure, but she's not worried. She will take him down and teach him a lesson about speaking to her so suggestively.

Gwen tosses the daggers up with a flourish, catches them easily, and gets ready for his first move.

The cocky young warrior is clearly still eyeing Gwen up and down like he's imagining how best to take her to bed … and he doesn't seem to notice the silent, furious rage rolling off Loki like a wave. He holds his own weapon, a gleaming sword, at ease in his hand.

"How about a little wager?" he proposes as his eyes rake over her figure once more. "If I win, you allow me some… private time with you tonight."

"Oh sweetheart, you couldn't handle me." She blocks his first attack. "And also, if you think it's wise to speak to Loki's wife like that, you are as stupid as you look."

The young warrior has the decency to flush, his cocky arrogance faltering a bit at the mention of Loki's name. That doesn't stop him from attempting to regain his bravado, though.

"We'll see," he mutters as he makes another attempt at an attack, lunging with the intent of pinning Gwen against the wall of the training yard.

Gwen slides under his legs and taps him with the dagger. "That's one."

He stumbles, looking back at Gwen with newfound surprise and the beginnings of frustration. The other warriors are now laughing openly at his expense, and that only seems to fuel him further.

"Lucky strike," he snaps as he readjusts his grip on his sword and advances again—this time faster, more aggressive.

She blocks but loses one dagger. She's not worried. She spins out of his reach and then gestures with her free hand to grow the plants around the ring to grab the warrior's leg.

The warrior lets out a cry of surprise as he finds himself yanked backwards by the thick vines around his ankles.

"Hey now! That's cheating!" he exclaims, struggling to stay standing as the plants twine around his legs. The spectators are all watching in fascination now, thoroughly amused by the way Gwen has the upper hand.

"Cheating? No, I don't think so. One, we never said anything about not using my powers. And two, in an actual battle, are you going to cry about the opponent 'cheating?'" She picks up his dropped sword and taps his side with it. "You lost."

The young warrior flushes again as he begrudgingly concedes ‌her point. The other spectators have gone from watching curiously to openly cheering her on, and it's obvious they like seeing this overconfidence smacked down.

"All right, all right! You win," he admits, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

Loki‌ looks thoroughly vindicated at the sight of the young warrior being humbled.

She squats down so that only he can hear her next words. "The next time you suggest spending 'private time' with me, I will do a lot worse than embarrass you on the field. And that's before I let Loki get to you."

The warrior's expression shifts instantly, his bravado dissolving into startled alarm as Gwen leans in and speaks. He swallows hard, his eyes flickering over to Loki before landing back on her with newfound caution.

"Understood," he says stiffly, clearly knowing when to quit while he’s ahead. "Apologies … my lady."

Meanwhile, Loki is laughing his ass off from the sidelines.

She gestures again, and the plants recede, releasing the warrior and giving him a hand up.

The warrior takes the proffered hand and pulls himself up, dusting himself off and looking thoroughly chastened. Even the other warriors are giving him sidelong looks, clearly not quite believing they all just watched this tiny, beautiful creature put their friend in his place.

He glances once more between Gwen and Loki, clearly understanding how stupid he had been to even try to flirt with the Prince's wife.

Loki is enjoying every second of the young warrior's embarrassment as he saunters over, slipping an arm around Gwen with a smirk. His gaze flits to her, dark and satisfied.

"Nice work, love," he murmurs, his free hand coming to rest on the small of her back, pulling her close against him. "He won't dare look you in the eye for a while after that."

"If only I could take care of the palace gossip that way..." She smiles. "Training, sparring...that felt good."

He hums in agreement, fingers tightening possessively at her waist as he leans down to press a kiss against her temple.

"Then perhaps you should spend more time here," he murmurs against her skin before pulling back slightly—his smirk sharpening into something teasing, wicked. "If not for the exercise... then to keep me entertained watching fools fall at your feet."

"You wouldn't mind if I spent time here?" She's a little surprised.

He meets her gaze, fingers brushing idly at the small of her back as he speaks, voice low and unreadable to anyone else but carrying an unmistakable warmth for her ears alone. "Mind? No." A faint smirk plays on his lips. "If nothing else, it will finally teach these idiots that underestimating you is their biggest mistake."

She sighs and smiles at him.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

If she's trying to catch him off guard, she's succeeded. His smirk falters for just a moment as his eyes flicker over her face, his heart skipping, a reaction that only happens when her words or actions take him completely by surprise. His arm tightens around her, pulling her just a fraction closer.

"As much as I do you," he answers quietly, and the look in his eyes is enough to make that cocky bastard watching them on the other side of the training yard feel a pang of jealousy.

Gwen goes to the training grounds every morning. She works hard, sparring with some of the best warriors in the realms. She gets knocked down sometimes, but she gets stronger, faster, and becomes an even better fighter than before.

One day, after running some exercises, she hears someone calling her name. She turns to see a familiar face - Einarr, the large, handsome warrior who flirted with her years ago.

Einarr has clearly been watching her, his eyes taking in the way she's grown and changed over the years. She's more beautiful than ever, but it's the subtle signs of strength and confidence that really catch his eye... and stir his interest a little more.

"Lady Gwen," he says, approaching and bowing just a little, "still looking lovely, I see … and even more dangerous now."

She smiles warmly at him. "Einarr. How have you been? I haven't seen you around..."

This is the first time she has seen him in the five years that she has lived here. Did he know she had moved here?

"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his neck with a rueful smirk. "I was stationed on the borders of Vanaheim for some time, keeping the peace, dealing with bandits... you know how it is."

He studies her face, his eyes lingering just a little too long for it to be purely innocent.

"I heard whispers about Loki marrying a mortal warrior when I got back. But I never imagined..." he gestures vaguely at her, "...it would be you."

"Vanaheim... Yes. A lot has changed." She remembers the last time she saw him. He was interested and very handsome...still handsome. She chose Loki and never went back for that drink with Einarr. Things would've been very different if she had chosen him that night. "I did marry Loki and moved to Asgard. We have children too."

Einarr nods, his eyes dropping to her hands, then moving down her waist, to her hips, lingering a touch too long to be innocent. The fact that her shape looks softer and curvier than before isn't lost on him.

"I heard something about that, aye," he says, and the corners of his lips twitch into a crooked smirk. "Prince Loki, starting a family, and with a mortal... he sure knows how to make people talk, that one."

She assumed that choosing Einarr that night would have been nothing more than a quick hookup. She wouldn't have had a reason or permission to move to Asgard in that case. Would he have come to Earth? Would it have been anything more than that night?

"You know Loki always has to do things his way." She laughs softly.

"Aye, I've met the man, remember? He doesn't do anything the easy way," he jokes, eyes still lingering on her figure—his gaze dropping to the curve of her hips in a way that's almost shamelessly hungry. "Never expected him to go for a mortal, though. Always seemed too proud of his royal heritage for that sort of match. Lucky bastard."

"Hmm well..." Gwen shrugs, a little hurt at the reminder. She's heard that plenty of times over the last few years.

The way she was treated that night differs greatly from the last few years. At the party, she was a guest, a novelty. No one had a problem drinking, joking, flirting with her, but once she moved here, she was suddenly "that mortal."

Einarr must see something flicker in her expression, because his smirk drops just a little. He lets out a soft exhale, more serious now, and steps slightly closer.

"For what it's worth," he says, lowering his voice, "I never had any issue with mortals. You're the first one I ever met that could keep up with Asgardian warriors."

"Thank you." She means it and gives him a small, tight smile. "Well, I'm definitely keeping up now. I've been training again. It's been good for me to get out of the palace and get moving like I used to."

Einarr nods approvingly, crossing his arms as he looks her over—his gaze lingering on the way her muscles move beneath the fabric of her training clothes.

"I can see that," he says with a chuckle. "You fight as if you were born with a blade in hand." A slight pause, then he tilts his head, studying her face carefully before adding: "If you ever want to spar, I'd be happy to test your skills. No tricks, just steel and skill."

"Yes, I would like that." Her smile grows at the offer. He would be a real opponent, stronger, battle tested.

He grins, clearly pleased by her response, with the kind of slow, confident smirk that makes it clear he's looking forward to the challenge. "Good. Tomorrow morning?" he suggests before glancing over her shoulder, "...Assuming your husband won't object, of course."

"Tomorrow morning, then. Be ready," she challenges.

He chuckles, low and pleased, as he gives her one last lingering look before stepping back. "I’ll be waiting." And with that, he offers a slight bow before turning to leave, clearly looking forward to tomorrow.

She turns and leaves as well. Tomorrow. He is large, even bigger than Thor. Does she really think she'll win? Either way, she knows he won't hurt her.

She thinks up strategies and countermoves on her way back to her rooms to clean up.

Chapter Text

Loki is already waiting when she returns, lounging in a chair with a book. His eyes lift the moment she enters.

"You seem... deep in thought," he notes, watching as she moves toward the bathing chamber. His tone is casual, but there’s something knowing in his gaze. "Did anything interesting happen at training today?"

"Actually, I ran into Einarr... He's apparently been in Vanaheim and he's back now."
She has nothing to hide from Loki.

Loki’s fingers pause on the edge of his book, just for a second, before he turns the page casually. His voice is light, but there’s an undercurrent of sharpness beneath it. "Einarr. Ah." A slow smirk. "The one who tried to get you into his bed years ago? How … fortunate for him to return now."

Gwen gives Loki a smile. She knows that tone, and she knows how to make it better.
She gently takes the book from his hand and sets it on the table next to him. She climbs over him and straddles his lap. "Loki..."

His arms instinctively come up to support her, and even though he looks as cool and collected as usual, his eyes go dark the moment she straddles his lap. An arm encircles her waist, pulling her closer as he gazes up at her with something very warm and wanting in his gaze.

"Yes?" he murmurs, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He already knows why she’s on his lap.

"You won. I chose you." She tugs at his clothing, slowly removing key pieces to give her access to more of him.

"I married you."

Another piece of clothing gone.

"I had your children."

More clothing gone.

He exhales in a slow hiss as her hands and words work their magic. The effect of her words on him is clear and present. His hands slide under the hem of her training shirt, palms coming to rest on the bare skin of her hips, his thumbs tracing absent circles against her soft skin. He tilts his head back against the chair, baring the pale column of his throat as his eyes darken with both want and heat.

"What are you trying to prove?" He murmurs, his voice dropping a fraction rougher than before.

"That I want only you." She slides off his lap onto her knees in front of him. "Now...and forever."

As soon as she finishes speaking, her hands and mouth are on him, showing him just how much she wants him.

His eyes widen, mouth parting in a sharp inhale as her hands and her mouth show him just how serious she is. He watches her for a moment with hooded eyes, chest rising and falling a bit faster than before. But it doesn't take him long before he lets out a breath in a low exhalation.

"Prove it to me, then," he murmurs, his hands threading into her hair, not pulling, but just guiding, as he looks down at her with a dark, hungry gaze.

She knows he doesn't doubt her. Their relationship is strong. But right now on her knees in front of him, she is going to show him just how much she loves and wants him.

He sinks deeper into the chair as her hands and mouth work, his breathing already uneven, fingers twining tighter in her hair without forcing. The way he’s watching her, lips slightly parted, his whole body taut, it’s clear how much he enjoys this... especially when it's her.

"That's it," he murmurs roughly, "exactly like that."

She knows exactly what he likes and how he likes it, and she is going to give it to him. She loves knowing she can take him apart like this.

His head tips back, fingers tightening in her hair as his breathing stutters and gasps. He’s so much stronger, larger than her, but right now, he's practically at her mercy and they both know it. There's nothing in this world he wouldn’t do for her at this moment, and every bit of it shows.

"Gods..." he whispers hoarsely, his grip in her hair tightening another fraction. "Gwen... please-"

She doesn't let up one bit as she takes him deeper. She looks up and locks eyes with him. She wants to see what she is doing to him and wants to see the moment he comes undone.

Their gazes lock, and the sharp, raw depth in his gaze almost makes him feel vulnerable. His whole body is tense, fingers gripping her hair like a lifeline as pleasure ripples through him. This is more intimate than sex; it's an act of devotion, of possession, and he loves every single second of it. And the way her eyes never leave his makes it that much more powerful.

"Gods... you're perfect," he gasps hoarsely. "Only for you... I'm only yours... gods, please..."

She doesn't stop until he comes undone, his voice breaking her name as he surrenders completely to the pleasure she's giving him. Afterward, she rests her forehead against his thigh for a moment before lifting her head to look up at him, eyes soft but satisfied.

"Was that proof enough?" She murmurs, lips still slightly swollen from their task.

Loki exhales shakily and pulls her up into his lap, kissing her deeply before whispering against her mouth, "Always."

She stays on his lap until he comes down completely and she catches her breath. She washes up and changes into one of her gowns.

She is feeling more like herself again. It's amazing how much the training has done for her mood and confidence.

Loki watches her move around the room, his gaze lingering on her in a way that’s both possessive and reverent. There’s no mistaking the warm satisfaction in his expression.

"Tomorrow," he murmurs after a moment, tilting his head slightly, "when you spar with Einarr... don't go easy on him."

The smirk he gives her tells her exactly how much he plans to enjoy hearing about the aftermath of that fight.

"I won't." She smiles. She almost forgot about it after what she had just done with Loki.

Later, after tucking the twins in, she goes to bed feeling completely satisfied and at ease. She curls up against Loki and lightly traces the muscles in his chest. "Good night, my love.”

His arms tighten around her, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head as she settles against him. "Sleep well," he murmurs, his voice warm with affection before adding, just a touch teasingly: "...And dream of victory."

Chapter Text

In the morning, Gwen is stretching and warming up at the training grounds. There are soldiers and warriors training but they've gotten used to Gwen's presence by now and pay her no mind.

Just as promised, Einarr shows up in the training ring and it's hard to miss when he does. The man is huge, tall and wide and muscular as a bull, and there's not one person in the training grounds that fails to notice his arrival.

As his eyes fall on Gwen, the same smile from before tugs at his lips. He strides toward her, looking a little too pleased with himself.

"Good morning, Lady Gwen," he says, smirking. Then, with a glance over at the rest of the warriors, "Ready?"

"Good morning, Einarr. Is that all the pleasantry I get? Straight into it? Okay, then..."

He chuckles, looking her over with a cocky sort of confidence.

"What's the point of pleasantries before a spar? I don't need to be nice to you here," he says with a smirk, his eyes flickering over the muscles in her arms and legs. "Besides, you won't be in the mood for friendly conversation when I'm done with you."

She smirks and can't help herself. "You don't want to be nice to me Einarr? That's disappointing. So tell me, what will I be in the mood for?"

His smirk grows darker, more arrogant now.

"A drink," he says simply, rolling his shoulders as he steps back into a ready stance. "Because you're going to need it."

It's clear from the way his eyes flicker over her body that he's imagining exactly how hard she'll work for that drink... and just what else she might need after.

She prepares herself for this. Her usual sparring weapons at the ready. And if all else fails, she has her smaller size to help her slip through his attacks and her powers.

"Ready, then?"

He swings his weapon lazily in one hand, rolling his neck with a grin.

"Oh, I was born ready," he taunts before lunging forward, blade flashing as he brings it down toward her with deliberate force.

She’s quick, she always has been, but he’s stronger. And the challenge in his eyes makes it clear that if she wants to win this… she'll have to earn it.

She knows she'll never win if this were a contest of strength. She's fast and well trained but he is one of the best fighters in the realms. She dodges and tries to tap him with the daggers when she sees an opening but he is quick to block them. She won't use her powers unless she has to. She wants to get better at fighting without them.

Einarr watches her move, adjusting, learning, and a slow smirk curls at his lips. "Fast. I'll give you that," he says before feinting left and suddenly twisting right, his sword coming in low to sweep at her legs.

She’s quick but narrowly avoids the sweep, but stumbles slightly off-balance. Before she can fully recover, he’s already pivoting, his elbow coming up in a controlled strike toward her ribs. She’s struggling to anticipate his moves.

"Not bad," he taunts between breaths, "But you're thinking too hard."

His attacks are all over the place but still precise. The speed with which he attacks makes it difficult for her to predict. She can't think between dodges.

Gwen ducks the next swing and somersaults under him. She taps him on the ankle with the dagger. A hit.

Einarr actually stops, blinking down at his ankle where she tagged him before letting out a bark of laughter.

"Clever little thing," he says, rolling his shoulders with renewed interest. "Let’s see you do it again."

And this time when he strikes, he makes sure she doesn’t have the space to roll under him so easily.

The practice weapons are blunt but still hurt if you get hit with one. In an actual battle, his Achilles would have been cut but that's not enough to win. How can someone so big be so fast?

He laughs as she barely dodges another swing, his grin sharpening. "You expected me to be slow just because I'm big?" he teases before feinting right, only to suddenly pivot left and knock one of her daggers clean out of her hand with a calculated strike.

"Come on," he goads, stepping back just enough to give her room to regroup, though his smirk makes it clear he’s enjoying this too much to end it yet. "Hit me again."

She starts to gesture with her hand to call the plants but stops. She can do this without them.
She is getting winded but she's not going to give in.

Einarr notices her hand gesture and the moment when she aborts it. He grins, something like approval flickering in his eyes.

"You've got a brain in that head," he says, his voice low and measured. "But can you keep up with my size and strength without your tricks?"

He strikes again, deliberately giving her an opening. He wants to see how she’ll respond.

She thinks the opening is a trap so she avoids it, hoping that he'll try so hard to get her to go for an obvious fake that he'll let his guard down in another place and that's when she'll strike.
And her theory was correct when a few moments later, a new opening presents itself.
She rushes in to tap him on the side.

Einarr grunts when she lands the tap, impressed despite himself, before suddenly dropping his sword altogether. In one swift motion, he catches her by the waist and hauls her off her feet, holding her up like a ragdoll as he grins.

"Good. Very good," he says approvingly before tossing her over his shoulder in one smooth motion. "Now let's get that drink."

Gwen is too shocked to do much of anything. With his large strides, they are out of the training grounds before she manages to speak. "Einarr, what do you think you are doing?"

He chuckles, carrying her easily through the field. "Taking you to get the drink I won, obviously," he says, not the least out of breath from training or carrying her. "Did you think I was joking?" he teases, giving her a playful slap on her ass. "I'm an honest man, remember? I said I'd beat you, and I said I'd get you a drink after. So I am."

She gasps. He dares to slap her ass?

"You didn't win! I got the last hit. Picking me up doesn't make you the winner."

"You call that a hit?" he laughs, not even slightly embarrassed by his boldness. In fact, if anything, he seems even more confident now. "Maybe I just wanted you close enough to carry." He gives her another light slap on the ass, grinning as he adds, "either way, you're coming with me."

Once they reach the tavern, Einarr carries her straight to the bar, still gripping her like a sack over his shoulder. He calls for the barkeep to bring two fire ales and then finally sets her down on a stool. He claims the stool next to her, clearly in a playful mood as he turns to face her with a grin.

"So... not how you expected your morning to go, hmm?" he teases, stretching his legs out before he reaches for his drink. "I hope you don't have any plans; you're my prisoner until I'm done with you."

"I could've walked, you know,” she huffs. “You can't keep me prisoner for long. I have Loki and the twins to get back to."

Einarr rolls his eyes, giving her a lopsided smirk as he takes a long swallow of his drink.

"Oh, you think I'm gonna let you go?" he says mockingly, though there's something in his eyes that suggests it might not be all just teasing. "Now that I finally have you all to myself?" He gives her a light nudge, gesturing to her own drink. "Go on. Have a sip. Then we'll talk."

"You're having fun now but just wait... If Loki gets mad, you'll regret this little stunt." She keeps an eye on him as she picks up her drink and takes a big sip.

Einarr actually laughs at her ominous tone.

"Oh, what's he going to do? Cast some scary spell at me?" he asks, leaning in and grinning. "No offence, but your 'all-powerful' prince doesn't exactly strike fear in my heart. Let him try to fight me: I'll throw him into next week."

"Odin, then. My father in law can strike you down right now as you sit here." She smirks. "But I'm sure you'll tell me you don't care about that either." She lets the idea sink in for a moment while she drinks more of her ale. "Well, you got me alone, so what do you want?"

Einarr actually laughs at that. "I know better than to mess with Odin," he says, sipping his drink before tilting his head curiously. "What makes you think I want anything except to spend time with you? You're interesting. Smart. Talented. Beautiful."

He leans in just a little closer. "I'm a simple man, Gwen. I like pretty women, and I enjoy good company. Nothing so complicated as that." He smirks. "Though I do have one question for you."

He pauses, his gaze never leaving her face as he cocks an eyebrow in question. "Do you know why I didn't win that spar we just had?" He murmurs, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. "It's not because I didn't have the skills. It's not because you're better than me, either—no offense. It's because I held back. I had the opportunity to end it... but I didn't take it."

He leans in slightly closer. "Why do you suppose I did that?"

As soon as he says it, she realizes he really did hold back. He could have beaten her easily in just a few moves. Einarr was just playing with her. The idea makes her embarrassed or angry, either way she flushed slightly. "I don't know. Why didn't you take it?"

Einarr smiles slowly, his gaze never leaving hers as he sees the embarrassed flush cross her cheeks. He's clearly amused by her reaction... and pleased.

He leans in a little closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost rough whisper. His breath is warm against her ear as he murmurs, "because… I liked the chase."

She gives him a sideways look and drinks more of her ale.

One drink with Einarr is fine. Loki would understand that and he trusts her. She won't do anything to betray or hurt Loki. The way Einarr looks at her makes her stomach do cartwheels though... She's surprised that he still looks at her the same way even after 5 years and having twins.

"Of course you did. Tell me about Vanaheim. When did you go? I came back to Asgard 6 or 7 months after the party and never saw you. I mean, I was a little busy being very pregnant at that time but..."

Einarr leans back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on her face as he answers her question. His eyes are still glinting with that warm, amused light as he remembers.

"Oh, I left not long after the party," he says. "I wanted to see the world and do something of my own. It was… good. Vanaheim especially. I met interesting people, learned some important things." There's a beat before he adds, "and I made a discovery that made me decide to return at just this moment."

"What was that?"

He gives her a sidelong half-smile, tilting his head slightly. "Why so curious?" he asks, the gleam in his eyes turning to a full-blown smirk. "Are you concerned about what I might have learned?"
He leans in just a bit closer. "Or are you just hoping that it has something to do with you?" he teases, lifting his hand to run the backs of his knuckles gently over her arm.

She rolls her eyes and takes another drink. "I'm simply making conversation. Has being away dulled your ability to do that?"

Einarr grins at her snark, his fingers continuing to trail along the sensitive skin of her arm with deliberate slowness. It's clear he's enjoying provoking her, enjoying every bit of flustered blush that floods her face.

"Oh, I haven't lost my skills with conversation," he says, his voice a low rumble. "I just enjoy it a lot more when my conversation partner doesn't play dumb."

"I'm not playing dumb. I'm being polite and asking questions and assuming you actually wanted to talk instead of using this as an excuse to flirt with me or more."

Einarr throws back his head and laughs—loud and deep—before taking another long drink. When he lowers his tankard, his eyes are still sparkling with amusement.

"Oh, Gwen," he says, shaking his head. "Do you really think I need an excuse to flirt with you? No." He leans in closer now, one arm braced on the table next to her drink as he lowers his voice again. "The truth is... I wanted to see what kind of woman you'd become after all these years."

She huffs, slightly embarrassed. So she was right, she wasn't misreading this situation.

"You want to see? You didn't know me all that well back then. We knew each other for an evening and had I gone back and had a drink with you instead of leaving with Loki, something probably would've happened between us. I can be honest about that but that's all it would have been, right?"

She doesn't need confirmation from him that it would have been a one night stand, a quick tumble, and she'd be gone right after. "Here I am. You see me. So now what do you think about the kind of woman I am?"

Einarr watches her intently as she speaks, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. When she finishes, he lets out a slow exhale—almost like a sigh of amusement. "I think," he murmurs, "that you're exactly the kind of woman I thought you'd be." His grin sharpens. "Stubborn. Clever. Sharp-tongued. And even more beautiful now than you were then."

He leans in closer—just enough that his next words ghost warm over her ear:
"...But I always knew that last part would be true."

Einarr is confident and the type to speak his mind. He can get away with it because he is so big and such a skilled warrior that most people wouldn't stand up to him.

Gwen takes a deep breath before quietly speaking. "Thank you."

Einarr chuckles, leaning back in his chair, but not before giving her a wink. "No need to thank me for stating the obvious."

He swirls his drink lazily in one hand, watching her over the rim before adding: "But I will say this... you have changed since that night at the party."

There’s something almost knowing in his voice. Like he sees things even she might not realize about herself.

"Well, moving to a realm that doesn't really accept me, missing my home, becoming a mother, and a wife after one night at a party will do that."

Einarr's smirk softens into something almost sympathetic, but only for a brief moment. Then it's back to that roguish, self-assured amusement.

"Oh, I wasn't just talking about the responsibilities," he says before taking another sip. "You're harder now. Sharper. That sweetness you had back then is still there... but you don’t let just anyone see it anymore." His gaze flicks over her face like he can read every thought she’s ever had.

"I can't. I'm polite to everyone I meet; that's just who I am, but I can't show more than that. I get called 'weak' often. I hear gossip and whispers that Loki shouldn't have stooped so low to marry and have children with a mortal. I can't help what happened, but I wouldn't change it. Those twins are... absolute magic."

Einarr’s grin drops for the first time since she’s seen him again. His expression shifts, hardening slightly, something dark flashing in his eyes.

"Weak?" He scoffs before taking a deep drink, then slamming the tankard down with more force than necessary. "Those fools wouldn’t know true strength if it punched them in the jaw."

His hand suddenly moves, his fingers brushing against her wrist where it rests on the table. A rare moment of sincerity cuts through his usual teasing demeanor as he murmurs,
"You survived Asgard, Gwen. You carved out a place here when most would have crumbled under Odin's court alone."

And for just a second, there’s something almost admiring in his voice.

She studies him as she thinks over an idea that occurred to her. After a moment, she just asks. "How long are you in Asgard this time?"

Einarr blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden change in topic. But he quickly recovers, his cocky grin sliding back into place as he shrugs.

"Don’t know. It depends." His fingers are still resting on her wrist, and he lets them trace lightly back and forth over her pulse point as he adds, "Why? Are you going to miss me if I’m gone too soon?"

Touching her wrist like that is barely appropriate but still soothing, so she doesn't stop it. She ignores his question. "Meet the twins. Then, would you consider being their guard?"

Gwen still worries about someone or something hurting them, and they are half mortal. Einarr is brave, strong, trustworthy, and even if he flirts with married women, he is a good man who would protect those children for her.

Einarr's eyes widen slightly, clearly blindsided by this unexpected request. He studies her face as his fingers fall still on her wrist.

"You … want me to guard your children?" He says, just a touch incredulously. A hint of the old swagger creeps back into his voice as he adds, "Me, a big, strong warrior … protecting them instead of battling the next big evil, saving a fair lady in some other realm? Sounds mundane."

She sighs and shakes her head. "Forget I asked. You're right. You have more important and more exciting things to do."

Einarr immediately makes a noise of protest, his fingers curling around her wrist before she can pull away.

"Hey, hey—I didn’t say no," he says with an exasperated huff. His expression shifts into something almost serious. Then he flashes a smirk again to cover it up. "I just had to point out the irony of asking me, a dashing, roguish warrior, to babysit." He leans in. "But I do have one condition: you don’t get upset when they start preferring my company over yours."

"You wouldn't be babysitting. We have babysitters when we need them. I am with the twins often, Loki obviously spends time with them, as does Frigga. I simply want someone close by who can protect them when we can't, someone I can trust."

He studies her face for another moment silently before he finally lets out an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine. I'll meet them. But only because I wouldn't dream of saying no to a pretty lady." He gives her a sly grin and then cocks an eyebrow as he adds: "But you'd better make it worth my while. I don't work for free, you know."

"Of course not.” Gwen rolls her eyes again. “You don't have to say yes right now. You can think it over. I know this is very different from border guard duty in Vanaheim. It's...easier." She pauses with a little smirk. "And we wouldn't want all those muscles of yours to get soft."

Einarr barks out a laugh at that, his fingers now tapping idly against the table.

"Oh, trust me, they won’t." He flashes her a roguish wink before straightening up in his chair. "You really think I’d let myself go just because I’m not on the front lines? Please. I’ll still be running circles around every other warrior in Asgard next winter."

His grin softens slightly as he finally leans back. "...But yes. Give me until tomorrow to give you an answer. And maybe then you can introduce me to these little troublemakers of yours."

"That sounds good. I'll have a solid compensation offer for you tomorrow too." Gwen finishes the last of her ale. "Thank you for at least considering it."

Einarr gives her a surprisingly gentle, if still playful, smirk as she finishes her drink.

"Thank you for trusting me with something this important," he murmurs before raising his own tankard in a small salute. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Gwen." And just like that, the teasing glint is back in his eyes as he adds, "try not to miss me too much until then."

She gives him one more smile before sliding off the stool. "I'll do my best."

Einarr watches her go with an unreadable expression, something between amusement and something far quieter, far more serious. His fingers drum once against the table before he turns back to his drink with a soft chuckle.

"Yeah," he murmurs to no one in particular. "So will I."