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I squirmed in the ridiculous outfit that shone iridescent under the lights that washed over the crowd. I swallowed hard. This definitely wasn't ever a situation I worried about finding myself in. Entertainment to a bunch of aliens. But, given how off-track my life had gone since I'd first visited Asgard, I could hardly be surprised.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Sun announced from his spot on the dais, sweeping an arm toward me, "I give you the Firebyrd."

I stepped up onto the raised dais in the centre of the room, and there was the loud clink of a utensil against crystal. The Grand Master called everyone's attention to the middle of the room. To me. I flushed under their gazes.

"Oh, this one's my favourite," he said, his voice merry and loud. I wanted to throat-punch him. "Who brought her in again—" he leaned down to confer with his assistant, "—Right, Scrapper 231. Always liked that guy."

I sure didn't.

"Anyways, ladies and gentlemen, the last act of the evening."

I scoffed, adjusting my ridiculously high skirt. I by no means wanted to put on an act for these people, I'd never wanted my powers to be a spectacle for people to oggle at—But I'd seen what happened to the last entertainer who disappointed the Grand Master.

I swallowed. Picked up the instrument that I'd requested. It's name—the Tagleharpa—was hilarious, which was the only reason I remembered it. Bodil had taught me to play a few songs on it during my confinement to the dungeons of Asgard. I prayed to God I wasn't too rusty on it, as I plucked the beginning notes of my favourite of the songs she'd shared.

I let my fire out in small bursts across the room, and suddenly, the other lighting was turned off. My flames, flickering blue, purple, red, needed no direction from me. I could guide them easily with my thoughts, now.

And then, I began to sing.

My mother told me
Someday I would buy
Galleys with good oars
Sails to distant shores

My mother told me
Someday I would buy
Galleys with good oars
Sails to distant shores

Stand up on the prow
Noble barque I steer
Steady course to the haven
Hew many foe-men
Hew many foe-men

My mother told me
Someday I would buy
Galleys with good oars
Sails to distant shores

My mother told me
Someday I would buy
Galleys with good oars
Sails to distant shores

Stand up on the prow
Noble barque I steer
Steady course to the haven
Hew many foe-men
Hew

(My Mother Told Me, Covered by Alina Gingertail)

The room broke out in polite applause when I finished, and that was when our eyes met. The moment I saw him across the room, all thoughts faded into background noise.

Loki.

A rush of embarrassment flooded through me, as I realized he'd seen my entire performance. I didn't often sing in front of people, I wasn't overly proud of my voice, though it had improved with tutelage from Bodil. Not to mention the outfit...

Suddenly, I was pulled off the stage, and surrounded by voices. How had I made the fire dance? I had a lovely voice. I was beautiful. A drink was pushed into my hands. I tuned them all out, searching the crowd for him.

And then, there he was, eyes on me through a sea of people. Moving toward me.

My grip tightened around my glass, as I turned my back on him, hoping my eyes had been playing tricks and he hadn't actually seen me in the crush of bodies.

But that damned voice sounded over my shoulder, making my blood boil.

"Wonderful, I was just beginning to worry you might not show up," Loki said.

"It's only been a few hours," I said, not bothering to face him.

"Hours? It's been two weeks, Alivia."

I whirled, then, surprise etched across my face. I opened my mouth for a moment, about to ask a million questions, but the words froze in my mouth when I saw his face.

His face that brought back a flood of memories, some happy, others—most—painful. Memories I'd spent the last two years trying to get passed.

Loki seemed to notice the way my face fell. "We should talk."

I almost laughed. "Talk?" I spat out. "We're way past talking."

"I understand you're upset—"

Upset? Suddenly, the contents of my glass were all over Loki's face and shirt.

His mouth spread into a thin smile and he nodded. "That was deserved."

I turned on my heel, storming in the opposite direction. I'd be dead before I listened to one more word out of his mouth.

"Darling, wait, please," he called as he chased after me. I bristled at the pet name.

Picking up my pace, I slipped through a closed doorway that led to a long corridor. I had no clue where I was going. All I knew was that I had to get away. Before all my senses were torn back to the day Loki had died.

I was so lost in my spiralling thoughts, I didn't hear the footsteps that gained behind me. Wasn't even aware he was still following, until I felt his hand close around my arm.

Loki tugged me into an open doorway, pushing me inside and pulling the door closed behind himself. I glared up at him. And I hated the tears I felt burning my eyes.

"Hear me out," he said, his voice soft. It was strange hearing it for real, instead of just in my dreams and memories. Then, he added, "Please."

"What is there to hear?" I asked, my voice cracking with the effort to keep it even. "More lies? More half-truths? More insults and rejection? I've had my fill of that."

"Alivia—"

"You let me think you'd died," I broke out, my voice raising, "Even after you disguised yourself as Odin, let me tell you how I'd felt. You—You let me think you were dead—That the man I'd loved was dead—And that it was my fault."

"Alivia—"

"No." I bit out, all the anger, grief, pain that I'd carried in my chest all these years surfacing with furious heat. "I wanted you back every single day. But now I want nothing more than for it to have been true. I wish you'd died that day."

I didn't pause to feel any amount of guilt over my words. Because I didn't regret them, they were true. If he'd really died, I would not feel this all-consuming anger. This betrayal. This sense of unimportance.

The silence dragged on for what felt like an eternity. I wanted him to suffer in it.

"You...You terrify me, Alivia," Loki said, his words slow and stiff.

I recoiled. Glared up at him. "What does that mean?"

He sucked in a sharp breath, then met my stare head on. He took a step closer. And then, "It means that I need you," he said in a spill of words, like he was forcing them out before he could think better of it. "I need you fiercely, painfully, Alivia."

"You—You need..?" I trailed off, at a loss for words.

He stepped slowly closer to me, a dark look in his eyes. "I would cut down anyone and anything to protect you. To have you at my side. The thought of not being able to save you—Being helpless to save you like I was helpless to save my mother. It's a thought so painfully intense I can't breathe."

"And how do you think I felt, when I was the one helpless to save you?" I asked, the anger in my voice receding to shock, "But you didn't think of that, did you? You never do. You never think of me. It's always you."

He opened his mouth to answer, but I didn't let him.

"You put on this act of being uncaring, cruel, hedonistic, powerful, immoral. You wear it like a mask to hide behind." I said, "Because loving makes you feel weak. It makes you feel afraid. So you run from it. You hide from it. You protect yourself from it. Even if that means hurting me. Because it's never been me. It's always been you, Loki."

I turned, cracking open the door to leave. I jumped in shock when I felt his hand come down heavy over my shoulder, slamming the door closed.

He lowered his head behind me, so that I felt his hot, slow breath on the back of my neck.

"It has always been you," he paused between each word, the emphasis heavy.

We stayed that way a long time. His breath heavy and uneven on my neck. His eyes boring into my back.

"What changed?" I asked suddenly, and I felt him still behind me.

"What?"

"Why are you telling me this now? After everything? After two years letting me think you were dead?"

"Believe it or not, most of that time was spent trying to figure out a way to tell you I wasn't dead, that didn't result in me becoming dead. I thought that if I separated myself from you willingly, I wouldn't have to feel the pain of you being taken from me. But I can't imagine a pain worse than knowing you're out there and not being able to come to you."

I clenched my jaw tight.

"Why?" Was all I managed to say. I didn't even know what I was asking. I just wanted so desperately to make sense of it all. What he was saying, what he'd done, my feelings, memories old and new.

"This is new to me, Alivia," he said, jarring me from my thoughts.

I turned, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes. He dropped his hand to my shoulder.

"During the Alignment—Everything I said that day was true. Then you go and nearly die and I—" His voice cracked and he shook his head. "I've never needed anyone like that before... Before, I just needed someone, anyone. Attention. I craved it. But I never needed someone the way I need you. Never felt I could do anything and everything for your attention. That terrifies me."

"Loving you terrifies—" I cut myself off, dropping his gaze and beginning again, "Loving you terrified me too. But I always stayed for you. After everything you put me through, all the hurt and betrayal." I looked into his eyes again, "Not anymore. I won't do it again, Loki."

"You won't have to," he shook his head, "You won't, Alivia."

"I know I won't. Because I don't have those feelings for you that got me hurt over and over and over again. I don't love you anymore."

"That's a lie."

"How can you think that? It's been years. You've hurt me countless times. Faked your own death. How could you possibly think I might still love you?"

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be standing here right now, love," he said, his tone sincere, with a touch of teasing, "I'm not arrogant enough to think you still love me, but I can see feelings still in your eyes. You feel something for me. I intend to hold on to that."

"Hate is all I feel for you," I said, half joking, "I understand how you might confuse that for adoration."

A smile quirked his lips. "I think you're lying again, dear."

"Maybe hate is a strong word," I shrugged, stepping around him. "But you definitely have a lot of making up to do."

We were alone in a large sitting room, furnished with couches and tables scattered with empty glasses and bottles of liquor.

I turned back to face him. "Starting with saying it."

"Saying... What?"

"You know what," I deadpanned.

He sighed deep, taking a step closer to me. I backed up until I bumped into the back of a couch.

"Will I be rewarded for doing so?"

"If you consider not being burnt to a crisp a reward, sure," I grinned.

Another sigh. Then, he looked down on me, into my eyes. This was a stare harder than any he'd ever given me, and I struggled not to squirm under its intensity.

Then, "I love you, my darling."

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