[ Barely a moment into awareness, and already Loki has cast off the stifling cloak of slumber. Esja does not reach for Thor, but she calms under his touch.
Her gaze is salient upon him, the same gaze that Loki had turned upon Thor time and time again.
But she, unlike the cold sliver of Loki controlling her action, accepts the warmth for what it is: this is the way the Thunder and Lightning loves, this is only another morning in an array of them. Tomorrow, Thor will again reach for her, without guile, without fury. Esja, foundling of Vanaheim's riverlands, oath-daughter to Njörðr; she of the rippling shores and war-scuttled langskips, now Queen-consort to the King of Asgard. Her right to belong cannot be contested. ]
A trifle. [ Her voice, dismissive but soft. Only now does she shift, accepting his embrace as her due.
Not for the first time, nor the second, nor the thousandth, Loki thinks — to break this moment, to break more than a century of careful planning, a simple counter-spell would do. The Devourer would never touch Loki, and neither would the memory of Thanos, not if Thor's hands crushed the life out of him first.
And not for the first time, nor the second, nor the thousandth, Loki simply tightens the illusion about himself. ] Sleep. Morning is not yet fully upon us.
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Her gaze is salient upon him, the same gaze that Loki had turned upon Thor time and time again.
But she, unlike the cold sliver of Loki controlling her action, accepts the warmth for what it is: this is the way the Thunder and Lightning loves, this is only another morning in an array of them. Tomorrow, Thor will again reach for her, without guile, without fury. Esja, foundling of Vanaheim's riverlands, oath-daughter to Njörðr; she of the rippling shores and war-scuttled langskips, now Queen-consort to the King of Asgard. Her right to belong cannot be contested. ]
A trifle. [ Her voice, dismissive but soft. Only now does she shift, accepting his embrace as her due.
Not for the first time, nor the second, nor the thousandth, Loki thinks — to break this moment, to break more than a century of careful planning, a simple counter-spell would do. The Devourer would never touch Loki, and neither would the memory of Thanos, not if Thor's hands crushed the life out of him first.
And not for the first time, nor the second, nor the thousandth, Loki simply tightens the illusion about himself. ] Sleep. Morning is not yet fully upon us.