Trouble

Disclaimer: Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment.

Spoiler Warning: This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

Author's Note: It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War- I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard's refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn't leave me alone.

If chaos is a work of art,

Then my heart is a masterpiece.

~ D. Antoinette Foit

Chapter 5: Shapeshifting Scoundrel

The winds drew cold air over the sharp mountains and into the valley of the farm. It stirred the maiden's long hair and urged her to draw her scarf closer to her neck. The fur drape at her shoulders did wonders, but nothing so bulky could be allowed to get in the way of her work. A massive and elderly dragon lay on his side resting as the priestess cleaned a gruesome wound. How the old male got the nasty laceration on his side was still rather vague, but at his age it would mean several nights in the dens until it closed fully.

Jinx loomed nearby with a stag hanging limply in his jaws. Her sweet boy, always thinking ahead, had been bringing the old male meals since the injury. Jinx fretted over the dragons that had hoarded together, but this male was something of a favorite. He responded to no name, but the mother and son often jokingly called him grandfather behind closed doors due to his many centuries.

With the males lazily sharing the kill she was able to resume cleaning the wound. Stitches were not a viable option. So, the wound was cleaned and then packed with a healing mixture. The old dragon would have a sizable scar, but he would live to on to be grumpy another few years. However, packing the wound was not so easy especially this early on. It was painful, and the mangy old reptile would try to run her off if rather than get the treatment he needed. A distracted dragon was best not to be squandered.

A frown carved her lips downward. Men of all species were a problem as of late. First, Keno arrived with the fall harvest, again. She had sent him away last year, but this time he had been clever and less up front about his intentions. This time the very nice boy from the orchard wanted to hold his ground and prove to her that he would make a good husband. The problem was, he was right. Keno would be a very good husband, but she was not meant to just be a wife. Keno saw her eyes and the mighty reptiles who trusted her and fell in love with the idea of her. He was foolishly sweet.

A sigh pushed past her lips. Keno was somehow the least of her worries. In the past few days, Loki had become more mercurial than ever. One moment, he would disappear or even storm off. The next he would demand her attention, and in her foolish haze she always gave it. Now though, it was worse. Now, he knew her deepest secret. She lingered on how he found out, the night he asked her to sing and was so painfully affectionate. He was also drunk.

Loki knew she was more than just a priestess. How the shapeshifting scoundrel knew about her siren mother she could sort out later, but it broke her heart the way he asked her to sing. It was the curse of the blessed to know someone's soul. For most this only happened when they used their power to search an individual much like asking their name. Her mother's blood made her power stronger, and while it was helpful with her gifts it was a two way street. She could feel Loki from the moment she laid eyes on him. For her, souls spoke to her in song, and his melody was so haunting and war torn in those first few moments she could not let him die alone.

The stronger he grew the more powerful it became. She struggled to ever turn from him, to ever say no to him, or to punish him no matter his behavior. Every time he spoke she could feel the weight of his words like velvet on her skin. He was always watching her with those emerald eyes as if appraising and scoring her. Keno's arrival had sparked a new level of mercurial behaviour though, and this same Loki was pressing kisses into her palms at night. When he did, that the damn song of his took on a whole different tune.

A blush colored her cheeks. He had been drunk. It was a chant in her mind anytime she lingered on the memory. Yet, for several days after that incident Loki had taken to crossing certain lines. They had been alone together frequently during his recovery. He often took walks with her into the forest when she went to gather herbs, or even for a ride into town for an errand. He had always been rather the gentleman. The morning after he asked her to sing the dark haired man had offered to accompany her to town for a quick run for items needed for Lola.

He had stayed so close to her that even on horseback their legs had brushed a few times. Then, when she was in the middle of swinging her leg over her steady mare a pair of familiar hands took her by the waist and plucked her from the precarious position. Her feet touched ground and she spun to find him looking placid and rather bored. He motioned her along, and all though their quick run through town she felt his touch. In the herb shop she found fingertips tracing her shoulders over the fur cloak. While haggling with the blacksmith there was a warm and large palm at the small of her back encouraging her to step forward proudly.

They were not inappropriate, but that did not make them not at all intimate. Loki was playing some kind of game, and it made her nervous. He was far too handsome and experienced to be after what it seemed. She didn't have power other than what he already knew. Her wealth was sizable for the area, but nothing like what he was used to. The sensation of being a pawn did not settle well on her skin, so she remained in the dens. The old male had been hurt the evening they had returned from town.

She was not too proud to admit she was hiding. Better to wait him out. The priestess grumbled lightly. After three days in a dragons' den she wanted a bath, but the nice bathroom with the fancy standing showers was in the house. But, there were the springs. It was cool enough at night to go now. The warm water was always nice and a tradition for her as a member of the blessed. Springs are symbolic for their purification. They are also full of minerals that do wonders for the skin.

She shook her head at the idea. All the supplies she needed to bathe, no matter the location, were in the house. She would have to face him. She rose and strode along the worn path from the caves to the house under the darkness. To her delight she made it to her room without encountering a soul. She slipped into the adjoining bathroom and relished in the warm water she could cleanse in. Once clean she wrapped herself in a robe and began toweling her hair.

"You have been avoiding me little priestess", a deep voice called quietly.

The maiden stopped fussing with her dark hair at the sight of the man sitting on her bed. He was reclined against the wall with one leg on the floor and the other lazily sprawled wide. His emerald eyes watched her carefully in the warm light of her room, and he motioned her closer. She obeyed slowly, and toyed with the towel still in her hands.

His hands opened up to hers, and she closed her eyes when she felt his warm, rough palms take her own. She heard him take a breath, likely annoyed. He pulled her down firmly, and those hands took her waist with care to spin her. Her eyes opened to find her back to the man with his leg just to the side of her hip. He was so close she could feel his warmth from his chest at her back, but that song was so soft in her ears she wanted to cry.

The god of mischief did his best to remain calm. He had tried to be patient. Implored himself to allow the little priestess her space as she recovered from his play at her. Honestly, he had barely nipped at her heels on this metaphorical chase and she seemed baffled. It both stirred his rage that she would think him so gentle, and for some deplorable reason made him want to be gentler still.

Now, she was trapped though. Her frame was wrapped in thin cotton and her dark locks fell in a wet and fragrant tumble down her back. She made no move to escape him, but he could practically taste her anxiety at his invasion of her personal sanctuary. He clucked his tongue to remind himself to be direct, and urged forward with his question.

The towel was pulled from her hands, and carefully smoothed over her locks. His voice was quiet, but his frustration was clear. "You have to tell me what I have done. What offense I have commited."

Her shoulders sagged, and she shook her head. He kept his touch gentle, but firm enough so that his presence could not be mistaken. If she wanted to imply he had done nothing to offend then he would push further.

His long fingers began carefully combing through her long chestnut locks. He thredded his fingers with purpose and began to braid as he spoke, "I don't blame Keno for his wants, but you are correct to want more. You would be a vision pinned to some ancient tree for the taking or writhing in a fertile meadow. Perhaps you could even be coerced into some deliciously appointed bed, but I have gathered you to be far too wonderfully wild to have a taste for that too often would you my pet?"

He grinned as the rosy blush colored her neck and cheeks. He tied off the braid and traced her spine through the soft material of her robe. Her arch only made him hum, "Tell me why do you allow me so much liberty with you my little priestess?"

She released a breathy sigh, and her arms curled to cross her chest. He leaned forward to pull her to him so that her back was flush to his front. Her body gave a delicious little jolt at the touch, and her pink tongue drew over her lips when she felt his own body's reaction to her. Patience was a sinful thing.

"Loki", her voice was a plush whisper and he enjoyed the way his name filled her mouth.

She turned in his arms just enough to face him with her pink cheeks and fierce eyes, "Why are you doing this? What do you want?"

A smirk crawled up one side of his face, and he swept a hand up to trace her throat with his fingertips. Her fluttering pulse teasing his skin before he tipped her chin up. He kept his grip loose urging her to meet his gaze with all her willfulness. A thumb traced her plump lower lip when he felt satisfied with her position.

"You know exactly what I want little priestess." His smirk broadened to a grin at the flicker of her ire rising in her molten eyes. "The question is what do you want, pet?"

"I am not your pet", she hissed surging towards him and rose to her knees to be at eye level with him, "And I already told you what I wanted days ago."

Oh how clever his priestess was. Oh how honest she was. She did not want a lover. She wanted exactly what she had laid out those days before. Exactly what she knew the damned little apple heir could never be. He drew her to him again, perhaps a little harshly from her gasp. Adrenaline throbbed in his ears, and he eagerly spread one hand across her lower back to arch her into him. The other had never lingered from her face, and took a stern grip.

His voice was perhaps a bit harsh for any proposal, but he didn't really want it to be a question. "Be warned my little priestess, I am no boy with wants. I am a god."

She fisted her hands in his shirt at the growled words, and glared up at him. Her voice was a pant, but her clever smirk made heat roar through his veins, "And yet the same rules apply."

He took in her dark hair swept lazily into the braid he had woven, her eyes all but glowing in the dim room, and her plush lips parted after her breathy snark. He drew down on them without thought or protest from her. As soon as their lips met he sighed at the softness. His hold eased, and the priestess melted into him willingly. The tight fists in his shirt in some pitiful show of rage spread, and smoothed her small hands over his shoulders. His own swept to the back of her neck from the taunt hold of her jaw and happily angled her mouth against his own.

He swallowed her squeak when he nipped her lower lip and delighted in the invitation to taste her honeyed mouth. Her velvety tongue shyly tasted him, and he hummed at the warm fingers now curling into his hair pulling him closer. He was delighted in the turn of events, but his damn need to finish his progress pulled forward. He pulled away from her and took pride in her small attempt to follow his mouth with her own.

"Loki?" she blinked at him, licking her now swollen lips.

He gazed at her, pleased with the short work it took to render her in this state. He let his fingers swirl over where they held purchase on her arched back and nape of her neck. He drank in the trust she glowed with even now. Her warm thin fingers toyed with his hair soothing them both when they were perched on precarious ground to meet each other.

He felt his mind flounder for words that normally poured from him like wine. His priestess had a way of stunning him sober. A terrible thing for someone so used to buzzing with power and heady stirrings of corruption. One of those sweet hands dipped down to trace along his cheek.

"What is wrong?" Her eyes were soft with concern.

His mind quieted as he leaned into her touch. He nuzzled at her palm. Her smile was patient, and he felt entranced all over again. A giggle peeled from her lips when he spun them pinning her half heartedly into her pillows. He leaned back with a smirk at the unexpected and swift bout of play.

"Darling, I have never been much for rules", he tutted.

His priestess rolled her eyes, "There are not many for even you to break."

He pressed a kiss to the fingertips on his cheek before nibbling them gently earning a swat from the other hand with an exasperated sigh from his less than enthused prey. He cocked a brow, "I'm listening darling."

"You must ask to court, nicely." She spoke quietly.

He nodded along, "What does that entail?"

"You must ask, and you must demonstrate something to show that you are worth consideration." She intoned watching him toy with her hand. "The courting is determined entirely by the pair, but when they wish to finalize it with a ceremony the one courting the blessed takes on a challenge. Once this is complete the ceremony occurs and they are bound."

Loki smirked down at her, "I count four steps. Plenty of rules to break."

She shook her head with a smile. Her eyes fell closed when he dipped close again and she sighed into his lingering kisses. Meeting his lips in utterly unhurried gentle near chaste brushes that could burn him with their saccharine nature.

She pulled away from him and sank into the rough silks of her pillows. Her expression was warm and contemplative. When he tipped her chin up her golden eyes took their time to meet his gaze. He took so much pride in how she did not shy from him.

"This is what you want little priestess?" He murmured.

Her hand dropped to let her fingertips trace the scar at his throat, "I want to be able to sing for you."

His heart tightened at her little whisper. Her words were so honest. It was a tiny and precious confession that he wanted to cradle in his hands. She could sing for her blood, her kin, her chosen. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, dropped more to knuckles as he set her hands at her sides, and one more taste of those sweet lips. He slipped away and drew her blankets over her.

He took care to whisper, "Sleep little priestess. I have work to do."

Author's note-

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience. I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

Love,

Persephone