Discover Top Posts Tagged with #bagginbooty

A Light in Asgard - Chapter 6

TITLE: A Light in Asgard CHAPTER NUMBER: 6 AUTHOR: bagginbooty (Sophie) WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Loki GENRE: Romance/Magic Realism FIC SUMMARY: Saga moves to Asgard as a kitchen maid only to be confronted by a mischievous and ambivalent God RATING: Mature (Safe for now!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry for the late submission, I've been crazy busy! This chapter is kind of a long one - sorry! I hope anyone who reads this enjoys it! Love as always x

Saga had been working for what felt like an eternity and she had found herself growing exceptionally weary. The stack of dishes from service had been unfathomably large that evening and she had been quite distracted at work. Something about Loki was wrong, and she was torn inside: a battle between hatred and pity raged in her head and she found herself curious about this God that occupied her thoughts. She had seen the same pain in the green eyes of this immortal as she had seen in the eyes of the scared children in the healing wards back home. This troubled her greatly; thinking of home. She had seen such pain and horror when the attacks started; the streets were littered with the bodies of the wounded and the dying, each waiting and hoping that a healer would reach them in time. So many people prayed for the touch of healer’s hand but there were too many, and Saga simply could not save everyone. She did not know what was more painful, the heartbreak of not being able to help every soul bleeding in the streets, or what they shared with her at the touch of her hands. Each time she touched a person, she shared with them not only her remedial energy, but their thoughts and memories. She remembered looking into the eyes of one young child and having to relive his memories of the attack. She has witnessed his terror as he was torn from his family and felt her own heart ache as she watched his parents have their lives ripped from them in front of their own son. Those she saved had to live with the trauma; those who died had suffered for nothing: it was the greatest tragedy Saga had ever known.

She had not quite realized just how fast her thoughts had run away with her until she felt new tears threatening her eyes and a sadness filling her. She wiped her numb face on her sleeve and put down the dish that she had been cleaning absent-mindedly for the past ten minutes, summoning strength to get up and leave. She sensed that tonight sleep would come easily and not even the anticipation of her nightmares would hinder her slumber.

Wiping her forehead and hands on a dry rag, Saga left the now vastly empty kitchen and welcomed the cool rush of wind through her hair as she left via the grand doors to the courtyard. She walked slowly to the huge stone building where her chambers were located, relishing the refreshing night breeze as she went. It wasn't until she was just outside the building that she saw him. Stood at the opposite side of the courtyard was a shadow. Saga could not make out any discernible features from this distance but she could tell that the person was not facing her, but rather staring out across the skies at the shimmering BifrostBridge. Though the shape did not move she noted a cape fluttering around its outline and she could have sworn she saw a glint of bronze under the light of the stars. Whomever it was had a heavy posture despite being tall and thin. Saga had a hunch as to the owner of this silhouette and sensed that approaching may not be wise. If that was the case, however, Saga was soon to find out as her legs, though weary, grew life and she found herself approaching this shape timidly and quietly.

This is madness, Saga, what in Valhalla are you doing?

The figure grew larger in front of her and before long she saw that all too familiar raven hair whipping in the wind behind the angular head of the God of Mischief. A dread spread through her bloody like wild fire and every instinct urged her to flee. She paused behind the man, mere metres from him; with no plan or idea what she would do or say should she be confronted. Just as she decided to turn and slink off in a similar manner to her arrival, a voice addressed her.

“I suppose you have come to gloat at my brother’s successes.”

This voice was familiar to Saga: she had heard it every night in her dreams, yet what once was threatening was now softer and languid. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and closed it once more, speechless. In that moment she was glad that he was facing away from her so that her bewildered expression went unnoticed.

“No, you’re right to. It is fair when considering the rudeness I have inflicted upon you of late.” he said.

Saga was taken aback by these words. Surely this could not have been the same man she had been so offended by all those months ago; this creature was far more spiritless. Unable to form words with which to express herself, she stepped slowly to the side of the figure who was still almost invisible in the darkness. She stood there, ill at ease, unsure of what to do.

Silence fell over Asgard and Saga felt the heady thickness of it. She had so much she had wanted to say: pages of planned speeches and threats designed for this man she had despised so completely. But the words stuck like cotton wool in her throat as he looked down on her. Saga, still keeping her distance, gazed into those same anguished eyes nervously.

“No” she whispered, her thumping heart insisting she turn her attention now to the glittering, breathing Bifrost for relief.

“Well I am sure I do deserve it nonetheless but I am grateful.”

Once again silence enveloped the night, the citizens in their chambers sleeping peacefully.

“Your father is quite the speech maker.” Saga proffered, trying to lighten the descending mood and break the silence.

Loki snorted under his breath.

“My father is a fool for thinking Thor is ready to rule.”

“Thor is not ready to rule, he is arrogant.” The words flew from Saga’s mouth with the speed and recklessness of tiny knives. She inhaled sharply as she astounded herself and fear set a fire in her blood. The air turned thick and viscous like tar around her.

“My Lord, please do forgive me,” Saga began to plead, “I-“

A quiet laugh filled the space beside her as she began to reel out her sincere apology. She turned to look at the God and saw him smiling at her, his laughter growing louder and heartier every second. His angular mouth, which she was sure had housed a forked tongue, was contorted upwards into a beautiful smile, baring perfect white teeth. His eyes were now soft and had a trace of something in them that Saga could not quite name. She was stunned into silence.

“You’re quite forward for a kitchen maid, Miss Saga.” Loki said between snickers, “It’s quite refreshing.”

Saga smiled nervously, still not fully sure of what was going on. He seemed sincere enough, though she still detected agony in his voice. She allowed herself to take a good look at him at last. His tall frame was regal yet relaxed as his arms hung limply by his sides. His face, resting heavy on his shoulders, was still a picture of amusement as he looked down on her, his black hair animated by the gentle breeze. She gazed at him long enough for his face to sink back into its sombre state and for his eyes to once again glaze over. He turned his head away, returning his attention once more to the stars ahead. Saga saw them reflected in the green spheres and they danced along the striations of his irises, as if his eyes were hosting a beautiful dance.

“Of course my brother’s rule is inevitable. I have been living in the shadow of his greatness since my birth.” Loki had brought his voice down to a mutter now and his words became lost among the stars.

“I’m sorry.” Saga could not think of what else to say.

“Are you?” Replied the man quickly, looking down on her with a hopeless expression.

“Yes.” she said, returning his gaze confidently. She discovered that her apprehension towards this man was lessened somewhat. In fact, she was even considering that he may not be quite the man she had thought he was.

“Well, thank the Gods I have a kitchen maid on my side…” Loki chastised with a throaty chuckle. Before Saga could respond to his mockery, a sharp hissing noise came from beside her. Turning, she saw Loki flinching and cradling his right hand to his stomach.

“Are you alright?” Saga asked, turning with genuine concern towards Loki, whose face was contorted with pain, his sharp white teeth bared into a snarl.

“Yes, I’m fine.” snapped the God, angling himself away from Saga.

“Here, let me see” she said, reaching out her hand until it was close enough to brush the cool leather that clung tight to his lean arm.

“Don’t you touch me” Loki growled thunderously “I hardly think the expertise of a kitchen-“

“I swear to the Gods in Valhalla, Loki Odinson, it is the expertise of this kitchen maid that will fix that hand of yours, now reign in your pride and let me see it.” Saga interrupted loudly and firmly, with a voice full of an anger that overshadowed her nervousness. Shocked at her own confidence, she extended her hand further towards this pompous man and fixed her eyes on his, empowered. He turned his body slowly to face her as that all too familiar silent void engulfed the both of them. His eyes bored down on her once again, with the same force and energy as when she had first encountered him in the hallway that fateful day. Though it was dark, his eyes did not lose their shine; they shimmered like emeralds in the night, both terrifying and beautiful in their intensity. Saga battled to keep her stance strong and waited patiently for his furious response. To her surprise there came none. Instead, he raised his hand slowly and tentatively placed it into Saga’s upturned hand.

“Thank you” Saga breathed, still maintaining eye contact with this man, whose expression was a composite of frustration and curiosity. She took his large hand in both of hers, examining the state of the damage in the fingers. Two of his five digits were inflamed quite substantially. She brushed her fingers over them, eliciting a wince and a sharp intake of breath from the hand’s owner.

“Sorry.”

Though she had not healed another being in a long time, instinct told her that the first and second knuckles of his hand were shattered. There were already signs of bruising appearing under the skin, staining his porcelain complexion with what resembled bluish green storm clouds.

“So did you win the fight?” Saga asked, still inspecting the wounded hand.

“Not quite.” came Loki’s curt response.

“Gods, what did you hit, a wall?” Saga goaded, still turning his hand over in hers.

She felt in the air a stillness as Loki looked down on her hesitantly, his mouth drawn into a thin line.

Oh Gods, he did!

Saga tried not to laugh but could not stop herself from giggling faintly, a huge grin twisting her full lips upward. The image of Loki, God of Mischief losing a fight to a stone wall was one that she had actually pictured frequently over the past few months and was extremely comical. Her laughter rang like silver bells across the courtyard, it galloped away like wild horses and for a while she was quite unable to stop.

“I’m glad I amuse you, Miss Saga.” said Loki in a frustrated tone, pouting slightly and pulling his hand away from her.

“I apologise, my Lord, let me help you.” Saga said, stifling her laughter and feigning as much composure as she could.

She reached out once more as the tall man beside her replaced his hand in hers. Despite the night’s warm air, his hands were unreasonably cold and Saga could have sworn that she saw a shimmer of blue emanating from the wounded area. Putting it down to the reflection of the stars, Saga took her left hand and placed it over Loki’s, allowing both of her hands to envelope his as best they could.

“This will feel strange” She stated, closing her eyes. Immediately, instinct took over and Saga was filled once again with the powers of her heritage. She visualized the source of the malady and damage within the hand and allowed all parts of herself to flow away until she was one with the pain. This was the moment that she was most nervous about; in this second, when she was one with this man’s pain, she was his pain. She could see right then and there every moment of horror in the life of this man. In a matter of milliseconds she saw an innocent boy grow into the man that she stood beside, shrouded in a cloak of darkness cast from the greatness of the brother that he had loved so greatly. She felt an overwhelming feeling of exile; a lifetime lived in abandonment and difference. She was one with a boy who had lived without a sense of belonging. Using his pain as her fuel, she allowed her healing to begin. That’s when she felt it: the familiar, warm golden honey that flowed inside her blood tingled and coursed beneath her skin as if carried on the flying feet of a thousand men. She allowed the honey to flow from her and into the wounded hand. In her mind’s eye she saw the liquid drizzling over the shattered bone within and setting it back together deftly. Once she was satisfied that it was repaired, she opened her eyes slowly and returned her gaze to the now healed man. He was looking at their hands, his mouth ever so slightly agape with wonder and his eyes wide, darting about as he watched their hands glow with a golden aura. He was following each particle of golden dust as they played about their intertwined hands, his face as excited as a child’s. The bright light was dancing about his features, illuminating them in a delicious warm light. He looked beautiful.

As the light began to fade, Saga opened her hands, allowing him to remove his. He did so tentatively, looking nervously at his now painless fingers as he flexed them to test their newfound strength. He gazed at her intently as she lowered her hands to her side.

“Well, then, my Lord, I must wish you good night.” Said Saga sincerely, her voice soft and laden with the pain she had just experienced. She spun slowly on her heels before her companion could utter a response and headed off in the direction of her meagre chambers. She walked as swiftly as she could without breaking into a run until she could see the building in front of her clearly. Chancing a look back at the God she had left astounded in the night, she was surprised to find herself alone in the courtyard. There stood no tall god behind her, nor anywhere within her sight.

Another disappearing act.

Sighing heavily at the empty night before her, she felt a lump press at her throat as the effect of Loki’s pain washed over her. She was overcome with a sadness that was not hers to bear. Her legs became weak beneath her as she relived those memories that Loki had shared with her during the healing and she turned and stumbled towards her chambers, her vision blurred with tears. Her weak limbs began to fail her and she found herself tripping to the stone ground. Before she could brace herself for the fall, however, two strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, supporting her. She looked up, only to find herself in the same position as all those months ago: limp in the arms of the God of mischief.

“Here we are again then” he said quietly with a smile.

Before Saga could swallow her grief and wipe away her tears, she felt his warm lips press softly against hers and her heart stopped. His kiss was firm and purposeful yet so tender and gentle. Saga felt herself relaxing into his arms, surrendering her pain immediately to the moment as he moved one hand up to cradle her face. His lips were on hers for no longer than a few sweet seconds, before moving his head back up from hers. He gazed down on Saga with a smile and with one last stroke of her cheek whispered “thank you.”

Before she knew it, Saga was once again alone in the darkness, left with nothing but a memory and the warmth of his lips still clinging to hers.

#bagginbooty

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#bagginbooty