“You aren’t the type to just brush something like that off,” Darcy points out, expertly peeling the apple in her hands. “Why did you walk away?”
“Because for the time being that is my choice.” He doesn’t clarify, but amusement shines in his eyes; the sort of dark joy she’s seen there before.
“Whatever you say.” And that’s that. Darcy returns to her work with a soft shrug and lets Loki be.
(click the image to go to ff.net)
One small moment, and the world shatters around her. A – gust of wind blows a – heavy curtain of hair in her face, it obscures her view. Darcy grits her teeth and her eyes glow with the anger she does not – yet – have an outlet to. Bright orbs want to drown everything in them, the calmness of the sea. Darcy makes a mad dash for the source of her misery, her – imaginary – backpack hitting her with every step.
A fist flies out. It collides with a gaunt cheek and the bones in her hand quiver. The force she put behind her blow goes both ways. She curses a fright and sinks her nails in the other hand. “You! You vermin! Scum! How dare you show you face around here?!” She yells and yells until her throat is sore. But her visitor is unmoved by her display. “Get out!” She pushes against him – when all she really wants is to keep clinging to him – in vain.
Suddenly two hands grip her shoulders, applying a great deal of pressure. Darcy stills her movements. She waits for him to say something. Anything. And he does not disappoint. “Have you been taking you medicine?” He shakes her away gently. “Miss Lewis, can you answer the question?”
She hadn’t expected this. “Loki, why are you asking me about this?” She is genuinely confused, and it shows as a frown on her – too pale – face. “You sound like one of those doctors.” She laughs – hysterically – because it’s so damn funny. “I swear you sound just like one of them.” She flings herself in his arms and wraps hers around him. “I missed you.”
“Miss Lewis,” Loki says, uncertainty in his words, “when was the last time you took the pills.” He pries her away again.
“Loki!” Darcy exclaims, all of a sudden annoyed with him. “What’s with all these questions?” She continues her tirade a while longer. “Or have they managed to make you believe it too?” She gives him a cross stare when he fails to answer. “I am not crazy,” Darcy insists.
“Of course not, Miss Lewis,” Loki immediately agrees. “Would you like me to leave?”
Darcy tilts her head to the side. “What I would like is a cup of coffee. And a walk outside. And a change of clothes. This white clashes horribly with my skin.” She blinks owlishly. “What have you been up to Loki?”
He coughs. “Not much, I have finished my latest thesis and I’m going to get it published.” Loki has no idea why he’s explaining this to her. She watches him absently, her mind miles away. “And you miss Lewis?”
“Oh, this and that,” she replies nonchalantly. “But instead of a thesis, shouldn’t you work on that glowing cube of yours?” One eyebrow rises in question. “Have you given up world domination?”
As if burned, Loki rises to his feet and goes to the door. He stops for a brief second, looks like he’s about to turn around, but then decides against it and opens the door. He tells something to another man dressed in white. He is handed something and swiftly closes the door.
“I have something for you,” he tells Darcy. “Be a good girl and take this.” He opens her pal and places a couple of pills in it. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”
Her refusal comes with a violent shake of her head and the childish gesture of throwing the pills to the ground. “No!” she screams out categorically. “You cannot make me!”
That’s when a pair of women walks in. They flank Darcy and hold her. She trashes desperately as they force the pills down her throat. “Swallow.” She hears Loki order. “Come on Miss Lewis, I have no time for this. Be a good girl and take your pills and then we’ll let you rest.”
In the end she can do nothing but ingest the pills. But it is far from over. As soon as her mouth is free she starts screeching at the top of lungs. “Loki! I want to leave this place. Please, Loki! Please, I want to go out!”
The door closes with a loud thud and her yells come to a halt. She is alone Darcy reclines on the ground, spreading out her limbs. She drags in – the scent of freshly cut grass – air, filling her lungs with it. “Come back, Loki. I’m bored,” she whispers.
On the other side of the wall, two voices hold a conversation she cannot make much out of. Still she hears her name being mentioned and smiles dumbly. So they haven’t forgotten her. She hopes not because then they might bring her another gown, one with livelier colours, because as she said white is not for her.
A sort of strange tiredness creeps over her. Darcy muffles a yawn. She falls asleep on the ground, sure than when she will wake, Loki will visit her again.
Loki sits in his tent, documents strewn all over, and he holds his sword in one hand while the other cleans the blood off. The peace lulls him in a sweet sense of security. His eyes narrow and he sakes his head to make the feeling go away. War is raging outside; he can’t afford to dream of safety. In his mind, Loki fervently curses the new Æsir king; damn that foolish and conceited boy for starting this. Of course, as the Jötunn well knows, Thor is no boy; and while he is indeed thoughtless he may prove to be a fierce opponent.
Two warriors enter the tend disrupting the stillness. They drag a person along, despite the clear struggle put up. Loki takes a moment to analyze the woman, It was not uncommon for his soldiers to bring him entertainment. It was a custom among his people that warriors brave in battle could meet the king. The purpose wasn’t to bed her; there were courtesans enough for that. Loki simply wanted a partner to converse with. And who better than somebody with wit and courage? He is about to dismiss them when he recognizes the person they bring. How could he not?
She is Darcy. Loki would know here anywhere. When he and she, and Thor among others, were younger, attending Odin’s feasts together had been something of a habit for them. Since taking his father’s throne Loki rarely had the time for ball and feasts. His people need him, always. It is in that moment that he vaguely remembers hearing that Darcy had been promised to Thor, some weeks ago. She was en-route to Asgard’s golden halls when she was caught in the fight, if her once lavish dress is anything to go by. But why would she pass through Jötunheim. She should have known it wasn’t safe.
There is recognition in her eyes and for a brief moment Loki’s heart strains against his ribcage. Loki has always been fond of her. Darcy wastes no time in pulling away from the retreating guards and runs to wrap her arms around him. He wonders if she knows what she’s doing. She seems all too aware for a moment later she pulls back as if remembering something. Calmly she tells him that she travels to Asgard, which he knows, to wed Thor, another fact he already knows. It’s not that her voice holds anything other than accuracy, or her eyes speak of sadness; Loki knows her, and this is not something she wants. He offers to keep her with him. She agrees all too easily. Somewhere Thor screams in rage at the loss of his bride-to-be.
Days are long during wartime. Swords clash and clatter; bodies fall and warriors rise. Nights are even longer and Loki has been through countless of them on his own. Darcy had been keeping him company lately, or maybe it’s not so novel when speaking of a decade. The main point is that she is there with him all the time and whispers to him of forever. Forever is not long at all. There are times when Loki senses she wants a deeper bond; Darcy doesn’t voice it but she hopes he can understand it. He does and it takes all he has not to indulge her. And himself. He could lose all he is so easily with her. He can’t do that, not when Asgard’s armies loom closer.
But one may not hold out for an eternity. And Darcy knows exactly is adamant. She makes him fall in love and Loki is helpless to refuse her anything. Forgetting the world for a moment he builds something bigger than them with her. Had anybody told them that years from this point they’d be apart both would believe it to be nonsense. After all, Darcy knows Thor is no match for Loki’s genius no matter how much more brute force the Asgardian holds. Her heart gets caught on his sleeve every time he goes out in the fray; she’d have to blind to not see Thor’s seal on a letter demanding she be given back. She wishes she didn’t know; ignorance is bliss. She still has ten blissful years ahead of her.
It takes Thor a decade more to breach all the defences. The blonde god is a storm cutting through the enemy lines. Darcy wants to scream because soon enough Loki is rises up to the challenge. The fight is nothing if not brutal. What makes her crack is that Loki is knocked to the ground, Thor one step away from killing him. Think fast. She jumps from her hiding place, going against what Loki had told her, and runs to Thor. This is the only way she can save the one she loves. Thor is momentarily distracted and the bloodlust dissipates. Darcy can’t look away as they bind Loki in chains; her heart cries out and her lips stay shut. Ruby eyes look at her in understanding and something like sorrow. She can’t look away, not even as Thor pulls her from the scene.
What she doesn’t see is the smile that’s on his face. Loki knows something she doesn’t; she will figure it out soon. His love is not the only thing he has given her. The Jötunn King knows that Thor is prideful more than anything. He won’t take Darcy if she already belongs to another. The ancient laws claimed that a female belonged to her mate only after she has given him a child. Proof of their union. Loki has been very careful in case Thor happened to succeed in shipping Darcy to Asgard. The chains rattle. It won’t be long until Thor knows just why Loki has refused to give him Darcy.
Companion to Tread.
Loki just isn’t one to be easily defeated. Thinking about making a continuation.
Lady Darcy walks, her steps light, back straight and head held high. She crosses the golden floor of Asgard carefully, followed by the palace maids who chatter cheerfully. The crown on her head shines in all its splendour, diamonds glistening in the light of torches. With every movement the veils making the skirt of her dress glide behind her. Blue eyes are focused ahead, serious and devoid of all emotion; they stand out on her pale face framed by almond locks in which jewels glitter. Her mouth is a straight line, almost a frown.
Something is amiss. One such as the Lady should wander about with a smile on her face. Her mouth was made for laughing, not frowning. Those cobalt orbs were meant to shine brightly and not dully look forward. Lady Darcy should glow with happiness, as any previous Queen of Asgard. Yet she doesn’t. What could be the reasons? She is wife to Thor, a righteous and handsome king; she is mother to the prince; she rules over the Realm Eternal. What more could she possibly want?
Gossipers whisper of the Jötunn King, Loki son of Laufey. Centuries ago in a clash of forces, Thor and Loki had begun a war. It was during this time that the Lady had fallen in the hands of the Frost Giants who delivered her to their ruler. Rumour had it that the foreign sovereign’s icy heart warmed at the sight of her. That had to be what kept her safe in those savage lands. Two long decades the Æsir Queen had spent there – it was unknown in what fashion – before her rightful husband came to her rescue.
The Queen was brought back decked in emerald silks, porcelain skin covered in blue paint and tribal tattoos. As far as anyone could tell she was unharmed. They had given a feast in her return, hoping she would bestow a radiant smile upon them like she used to. Her lips had turned, but the warmth was gone from the gesture. It was decided that she needed more time when she shrank back from her husband’s touch, face pale and lips trembling. They knew not even half the truth.
Months later Darcy birthed a child. There was an heir to the throne. A boy with dark hair and sea green eyes that most insisted were blue. Soon the King began taking other lovers, mistresses renown for their beauty and grace; by and by he entered his wife’s chambers only to depart in minutes. Darcy has her son, with his almost green eyes and almost inky hair. He is almost Loki – half Loki – and for her it is enough. The King had accepted the child as his own for whatever reason, but refuses to set eyes on him. Secretly, Darcy smiles at the thought that her child would one day be King.
So now, Darcy walks the golden halls of Asgard. Her mind wonders about the Frost Land’s king. Sometimes she sees him in dreams and wakes with his name on her lips – Loki – always a whisper. Darcy is the Lady; she is Queen of Asgard by title and Queen of Jötunheim in heart. Noble in both respects. Yet never fully one or the other. She walks so she won’t run and hopes so she won’t fall prey to insanity. Lady Darcy walks.
What did I just write? To be honest, I was trying to fall asleep when this popped up. Enjoy my midnight work.
Meeting Darcy hits him like a train, full force, almost knocking him down. Loki doesn’t expect it, which makes the situation all the more pleasing. He’s out with Thor, after much cajoling on the blonde’s side. Like any other time, his brother drags him around completely unaware of being annoying. Loki doesn’t complain; there’s no use in it anyway. The younger brother simply follows Thor, one step behind.
But all of a sudden there’s a tingling in his palm. Loki tries to brush it off. It doesn’t work; as a result he tentatively scratches softly with the tips of his fingers. It doesn’t stop. He sighs and shoves his hand in the pocket of his black pants. Raising his eyes, something catches his attention. Although the street is busy, a figure stands out in the mass of people. She is rather short with dark chestnut hair and an hourglass shape. She is nothing special so it baffles Loki that she’s captured his attention. What is it about her that attracts him? The realisation crops on him like a brick; she’s glowing. Not the figurative ‘she’s happy and shiny’, no; she’s literally surrounded by light. The itch in his palm grows tenfold.
At the same time one Darcy Lewis glares at her glove-clad hand. The name written on it burns, rather painfully, and she has no idea why. It’s not like she poured vinegar on it again; she did do that once and ended up feeling sick for days. Her mother said it was probably because her soul-mate wasn’t very fond of the bitter substance. Still, right now her hand feels like a needle cushion. She rubs it against the material of her jeans and moodily looks up, eyes set in a glower.
The pain is all but forgotten when she sees a tall, dark male in front of her. For a moment she stares, not completely comprehending why her breath catches in her throat or why he looks like he’s make of shiny shadows. The green of his eyes crashes with her coffee-coloured orbs and holds. It takes her another moment to realise he’s approaching her. And she simply can’t move away, even if she wanted to, not that she wants to.
True to character the words that come out his mouth are, “Your writing is simply appalling.” She gawks at his but doesn’t say a thing before he adds, “Nice to meet you, Darcy.” He smirks.
“You write like a girl.” It’s retaliation oh her part more than complaining. She does find his writing appealing, after all. “Not sure I can reciprocate as happily, Loki.” The smile she gives him is genial.
It’s only minutes since they’ve seen each other and already it feels like they’ve known one another long before. Loki extends his glove covered hand to her and she does the same. The prickle is pleasantly muted as their hands touch and they both smile at the contact.
Everything is perfect until Thor yells, “Loki! Who’s this?”
_____________________________________________________________________
The ancient writings speak of a creature with such power that the gods decided splitting it in two halves was the only thing to stop it. And so the first man and woman happened. They were frail and thin, pain coursing through their veins at the shock of being separated. What was once now had been forcibly broken with scant a way of joining again. Human were now at the mercy of the gods; yet the deities themselves depended on these newly weakened beings to bring offerings. One cannot exist if forgotten, not even the inhabitants of heaven.
In their anger the ones called humans started neglecting their duties. The altars were dark and in ruins, the powers of the divinities fading like the smoke of their being. But what is once done cannot be undone. The humans could not be put back together in a single body, but there could be a union. Fainter than before this new joining of bodies represented the perfect solution; the humans would receive a less powerful way of merging together and the gods would revel in their gratitude and be lavished with gifts, recovering from the suffered blow.
Loki puts Plato down before he can read about predestines names, the soft sound almost a caress. He has read it over and over again and the spine of the book is wrinkled now. He doesn’t bother to put it back in its place knowing all too well that he’ll open it once more. Frowning he leans back in his chair and blames his brain for not quieting down. There are too many thoughts in his head. Approaching the matter differently, Loki tries to think of what he’s read; he knows it by heart but there is mystery in this tale that he’s unable to touch.
With a soft smile, one he doesn’t use outside the walls of his room, he glances at his left hand. Marble skin is covered by a gauzy, yet strong material of emerald green. His mother said it matched his eyes. Loki cares little for that but still nodded his head accordingly and offered a smile. Carefully, almost as if he’s afraid the dark haired boy pulls the glove off and places it on the desk, next to Plato; which is fitting.
Cool air hits his hand but Loki doesn’t mind. His eyes are trained on his palm where a name is etched. He can’t help the smile that overcomes him as the letters display rough edges and a trembling script. Whoever this Darcy is, she’s got terrible handwriting. Loki decides this will be the first thing he tells her.
He often wonders what this girl is like; if she truly is his soul-mate he hopes she’s nothing like Sif with her wiles and brutality. But then again he’s not sure he wants that. Then he realises he doesn’t know what he wants. It’s a relief when Thor comes in to complain that Jane is much too common a name.
***
Follow up to Hands.
They say that at the beginning humans were neither male, nor female; they were both, they were whole. But fearing their power, the gods divided them in two halves; one male, the other female. Like this they were doomed to search for the soul-mate without the guarantee that their other half would be found. But a life bereft of one’s soul-mate was empty, almost useless and there were many who could not reach theirs.
Taking pity of the humans, the higher being residing in heaven allowed them to know one thing about their other halves. The name. Each person would have the name of their destined pair written in the palm of their hand. It would permeate itself into their skin, letting the know the same they searched for. So the gods decreed to soothe the blow delivered when they split the humans in two.
Darcy closed the book with a thud that screamed of finality. The words she had read left ghosts in front of her eyes and a metallic taste in her mouth. She throws the tome against the wall, silently fuming because she’s Darcy and at this age having something set in stone is too much to handle. She’s never been much of a follower. Her mother doesn’t come up and for that she’s grateful. Of course then the reason of her mother not coming up flashes in her mind and all that gratefulness dissipates. Her father is sick again and they can’t afford to keep him hospitalized so his wife looks after him.
A bit calmer now, Darcy lifts her right hand in the dim light and pulls her fingerless glove off. The black material slides against her skin pleasantly and falls to the floor with a soft whoosh. She peeks at the palm in front of her eyes and there’s a frown.
The script is cursive and elegant with loops and well defined edges. Those four letters inscribed inside her hand are simply beautiful. She mouths the name quietly, testing it on her tongue. “Loki.” The syllables pour out and it’s almost like she’s chanting. Of course, her mind can’t help a snide remark; because, really, who names their child Loki? It’s so strange and uncommon. But then she realises she shouldn’t be the one to point her finger; her name isn’t exactly common either. Who names their only daughter Darcy? “Mom and her love for Jane Austen. But really now, Darcy?!”
She remembers her mother saying that an uncommon name will make it easier to find your soul-mate. But the she would think so considering she’s Allison and her father is Damian. Those are rather widespread names and make finding your other half a bit difficult at least. So Darcy breathes deeply and holds her hand to her heart. “There can’t be many Lokis out there.” she reasons, because obviously there aren’t many myth-obsessed parents around. But there must be some, she rationalizes because her friend Jane has Thor scrawled messily across her palm.
***
Yes, I know the idea had been used before but I just couldn’t help giving it a try. Hope you like it.
Preview:
Angrboða paced the frozen floor of the castle. Since the King had perished, at the hands of his own son, she had actively sought a way to stabilize the kingdom left with no ruler. Jötunheim needed someone to step on the throne. It matter not if he was a Frost Giant or an Elf. They would even accept Loki. Perhaps Loki was the most reasonable choice, he was the son of Laufey but he was also the son of Odin. That would strengthen the bond with Asgard, maybe even prove useful.
So, as the faithful servant of her realm the sorceress had contacted Odin’s Queen and laid out the plan before her. The blonde goddess had been ecstatic. She had solemnly promised to talk her husband into letting her younger son ascend to the throne of his blood father. “I swear to you Angrboða, on my blood I swear, that Loki will take this responsibility as his.”
On FF.net.
The door slammed, momentarily distracting Darcy from the autopsy report she had been reading and was previously so engrossed in. It was hard enough to decipher Jane’s handwriting on a good day; disruptions weren’t needed. She saw Loki enter the room sans his jacket and shoes but decided against speaking. Darcy was, after all, still a bit mad at him for taking off like he had.
Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. Darcy resisted the urge to pull away quite admirably but Loki still felt her hesitance. He pulled back, regarding her strangely for a few moments. “What’s wrong, darling?” His brows furrowed as she regarded him coldly.
“It’s nothing.” Darcy replied, her eyes falling back to the report in her lap. “I’m just busy.” It was a lame excuse, she knew that, but it would have to do. Avoidance was the perfect solution as she had no intention of speaking to Loki at that moment, or any other moment soon. Focusing her attention back to Jane’s appalling writing, she willed him away; she wanted some space.
A shift of the couch’s material alerted her that Loki sat down. “I’m serious.” He said, pulling the information away from her. He gazed at the words scribbled on paper with little interest before he tossed it on the table.
Darcy turned to glare at him. “So am I. I have work to do.” she hissed and reached for the papers. Loki’s hands caught hers just as she was about to make contact. “Loki!”
“You’re mad.” It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement. “I can’t believe you’re still mad about earlier.” Green eyes searched hers and he added somewhat cautiously, moving his stare off of her, “I already told you why I had to go. Odin’s health is faltering, he had another seizure today. ” Weariness clung to the words like glue; Loki closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back.
From her place at his side Darcy grasped, worry slipping in her response, “I am so sorry. How is he?” She had been too harsh on him. Logically, Darcy knew that Loki couldn’t avoid Sigyn forever; it had been stupid of her to get so worked up over that when clearly he had other things on his mind. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she pulled him closer. “Is he okay now?”
Loki sighed dejectedly, wrapping an arm around her. “He’s not; not really.” Darcy leaned closer to him. “I’m worried,” he admitted, “that he’ll go too. It was worse than usual, darling.”
Anger forgotten, shoved somewhere in the far back of her mind, Darcy chided herself for having been so stupid. Loki would never deliberately do something to hurt her. “What about the surgery? Couldn’t he have one of those?” The chances were slim not only because the surgery was dangerously invasive but Odin wasn’t all that young anymore. She knew that.
“Not likely, love.” he replied after a brief period of silence. “Thor is trying to convince his though.” They sat in silence.
When Loki had been fifteen both his parents, Laufey and Farbauti, were caught in a terrible accident. His father died instantly while Farbauti lived a while longer in a state of coma. Odin had taken Loki in, as he had promised to do should something happen to his parents. Unfortunately, that meant adopting him thus ruining the planned marriage between the boy and Odin’s daughter, Sigyn. Thor, who had been older by a year only, bonded easily with Loki, considering him a brother from the start. The daughter, however, had been an entirely different story. Sigyn was infatuated with him and sought him out even though he wasn’t interested and they were legally brother and sister and were supposed to act like it.
Two years later, Darcy met him when she fell rather gracelessly, spilling cranberry juice all over her white shirt. She had been mortified, but a kind stranger with black slicked-back hair and a pair of gorgeous, if a bit haunted, green eyes helped her up and offered her a pack of tissues to dry off. The young girl had been attracted to him right away. Before she could even introduce herself properly, or perhaps get his name, he was called away by a tall, broad blond male, who was Thor as Darcy came to know later, and a beautiful fair maiden, Sigyn. At that time Darcy had just reached her fifteenth birthday and was perhaps a bit too young but she knew what she wanted from life, and it definitely involved that dark, mesmerizing stranger.
Sadly she wouldn’t see him for another couple of years, the first three months of which she had bemoaned his absence to the point where Jane had to confiscate her iPod, filled with melancholic songs, and drag her forcibly to the world of the living. Darcy hadn’t appreciated it at that time. Then she met her first boyfriend soon after but it hadn’t lasted. Apparently she hadn’t been interested enough in him from that boy’s opinion. And she hadn’t. The only thing he ever received from her after a short period of dating was a kiss, which she regretted giving. Jane had been her shoulder to cry on.
Six months later, her second boyfriend rolled into her life. He had been sweet and kind and Darcy had almost forgotten about her dark prince during those seven months with him. Until it all came crashing down. Hell, she caught him cheating and the worst part was that it wasn’t even with another girl. Turns out, he wasn’t really interested in girls despite being a fantastic kisser. Darcy couldn’t really blame him; she should’ve seen it coming as he never wanted to do anything but kiss. The break up had been awkward. Jane came to her house later armed with ice-cream and movies even though she had her own thing to worry about.
The only long-distance relationship Darcy had ever been in was with her third boyfriend, when she was sixteen. She met him at a party where she had gone with a few classmates, including Jane, and after a few good jokes he managed to convince her to give him a chance. They danced and talked all through the party. At the end, Darcy had been slightly tipsy, having been convinced to partake in the jumping juice, and kissed him goodbye, a bit too enthusiastically, as Jane called her to the car. The following day she was surprised to find out he wasn’t going to stick around. They had exchanged e-mail addresses and thus began the relationship that lasted about two months, to her amazement, in spit of there not being any physical contact involved. He broke up with her in the ninth week, saying he had found someone else.
Her fourth dating experience was a shy guy, younger than her by a year. She hadn’t been looking for anything more than casual flirting when they stumbled upon each other. This had been the shortest relationship ever. Two weeks was what it took for Darcy to figure out they would never work. The boy had surprisingly agreed and faded quietly out of her life. They had only shared a kisses and awkward caresses, so he hadn’t been much missed.
Perhaps the one she regretted the most was her fifth relationship. At first that college student had been great, attentive, everything a girl could want in a boyfriend; that went on for about a week in which he got her to fall fort his charm. Another week later he was making progress rather rapidly. By the third week they were in her room, sprawled on the back in a heavy make-out session. Then he did something she wasn’t ready for. Darcy tried to back away or tell him to back off, it didn’t work, and he kept pulling at her clothes wanting something she wasn’t willing or ready to give. At some point she must have started yelling because her father barged through the door and pulled the boy off. After whispering something in her boyfriend’s ear, her father sent him away. Darcy never saw or heard him again. Jane was the one she turned to for comfort.
And some months later, when she was finally ready to be involved with someone again, Loki strode right back into her life. She had been waiting for Jane to come out from a training course to catch a movie when the door opened and there he was. Tall, dark and handsome as she remembered him; Darcy was sure it was a dream until those emeralds he called eyes settled on her. A brief look of surprise flashed across his face and Darcy went red. Figures, when she actually wanted a guy to be impressed by her he could only remember her as the klutz covered in cranberry juice. Or maybe he didn’t remember her at all. That one actually hurt.
But he did, in fact, remember her. How that was possible she would never know but she would be eternally grateful. Just as he was approaching her, Jane came through the door and seeing the hopeless look on her friend’s face she fitted the pieces of the puzzle together. Resisting a facepalm, she introduced them only to tell Darcy later that she had known him for about six months and he was the one teaching the course she attended. Thankfully, Jane was agile enough to avoid being throttled in a hug by her overly grateful friend.
So, every day Jane had her courses Darcy would be there, each time getting closer and closer to her real target, until she wasn’t there for her friend anymore but for Loki. He was in his second year of University, planning to major in criminal justice. Why he was teaching physics was beyond her. But in a short while they were inseparable. It was actually Loki that got her interested in becoming a homicide detective.
Her parents had been thrilled when they finally met him. Her father found that he had a lot in common with the young man who had his daughter’s heart from their way of thinking down to that odd sense of humour that enthralled both Darcy and her mother. Sometimes she though Loki was more related to her father than she was. But it was easily the best relationship she had had so far and the one she wanted to keep.
Meeting his family had been something that ate away at her. She was nervous only the first few minutes though. Odin had been cordial and even joked a little, Frigga smiled at her every chance she got and Thor had been friendly and showed interest in his brother’s happiness. Sigyn had been the only one to treat her with cool indifference. Darcy chalked it up to shyness but the girl’s behaviour never changed much to her irritation.
Not long after, kisses were not the only thing they shared. Darcy had blushed from the roots of her hair down at her mother’s advice to be safe she finally spent her first night at Loki’s apartment. This time she had been prepared and willing, if a bit fidgety. But Loki had been patient with her and showed her a good time. And what a good time it was.
Jane was the first person she called in the morning. Loki had been asleep when she sneaked out of bed, diving for her phone and dialling her friend. Her exuberance woke him up and Darcy half expected him to be annoyed. He had simply kissed her good morning and headed to the bathroom for a shower inviting her along.
If it was possible, Sigyn had been even colder to her when they announced they were moving in together, just after Darcy began her first year of University. In consequence her distaste for the girl grew. It even doubled when she saw her trying to flirt with Loki who was either not aware or ignoring it.
Seven years down the road, they were still together, sharing an apartment. Still together. And sure, they fought and yelled at times until one of them would leave slamming the door, only to come back later so they could make up. Sometimes the noise was replaced by cold, silent fury and they’d ignore each other until one or the other admitted their mistake. Those were the hard times. But generally they were happy. Loki wasn’t all that princely, he got annoyed fast and tended be stubborn and Darcy didn’t try to make it easy for him, not when she insisted on having her way and contradicting him, speaking her mind no matter what.
Living together tended to put things into perspective. But together they were happier. At the end of the day all that really mattered was having each other.
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Joanna Karg looked up with horror filled eyes as the sharp object the man held got closer and closer to her. She wondered bitterly what she had done to deserve such a fate. Joanna was by all accounts an ordinary girl. A college student still living with her parents was not exactly what should attract criminals. Better yet, nobody should attract criminals. But here she was, hands and legs tied securely, in the hands of a man who looked like he would happily carve her innards out and have a good time doing it. The gag on her mouth prevented any screams from leaving.
A prickling sensation stabbed her thigh and she closer her eyes. Determined to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, Joanna gritted her teeth against the pain that was growing steadily, but surely where she had been pierced. Blood flowed freely down her leg, but she kept her eyes closer. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to take it if she saw the blood; it was the only choice. It was her only comfort in this bleak, cruel situation. The girl was well aware that even prayers couldn’t help her now, but she couldn’t ignore that small seed of hope when she felt her captor withdrawing.
“Open your eyes!” a rough voice commanded her as her body was forced to change its position. A squeeze to her wounded leg made Joanna snap and she directed a fierce glare to the monster standing in front of her.
“Now, now, is that any way to look at me?” Another stab to her leg made her shudder but she didn’t relent. “You could make this so much easier on yourself. Haven’t I been nice to enough to you? I’ve brought you to this quiet, lovely place, given you nice clothing and a comfortable bed.”
She wanted to rebel against him, yell that he made her sick, punch him, stab him, anything. But her bonds were too strong; the rope was cutting through her skin, leaving raw wounds along her arms. This guy, whoever he was, needed to have his head checked; badly, might she add. Of course, this was not the time to be sarcastic. But between tears and the cool act, Joanna would always choose to appear brave. Might as well go in a fabulous way, if she had no chance of being saved; which she knew she didn’t. This wasn’t a movie where the good guys always won.
He snorted. “You’re awfully uncooperative.” Joanna hardened her glare and cursed him in her mind. Being a fan of crime series and cop movies, she knew that victims never had it easy. And this guy was already torturing her, and enjoying it by the way his eyes shined with ill concealed glee. He smiled oddly at her, almost sweetly and Joanna felt her stomach roll.
Thoughts and wishes crammed in her head. The girl thought about her mother and step-father, regretting that she hadn’t been able to say her goodbyes. She would never get to hear her mother’s encouragements, or her step-dad’s bad jokes. A wave of pity wracked her body, thinking about her poor mother who had single-handedly raised Joanna until she was thirteen. Then her mother met the man who would later become her husband. She had been instantly taken with the soft-spoken man who would take the role of father-figure in her life and who dotted on her mother. It was regrettable that she wouldn’t get to thank him for that.
But Joanna had always considered herself though as nails. With a determined look in her eyes she stared at her subjugator. If only she’d have her bow and arrows with her. Her mother’s husband had taught her to use it a few years back and since then it had become a hobby of hers. The though of a well placed arrow in the monster’s skull, right between his beady eyes, seemed more appealing by the moment.
“Ah, don’t worry, little girl, I plan to make us famous.” the menacing man, if she could even call him that, said while pulling out a long butcher’s knife. He grabbed one of her hand, the right one, and cut off her third digit. Blood sprung forward and the appendage fell to the ground. “You won’t be able to see it but trust me when I say everyone will be paying attention to us, my lovely doll.”
Bile rose in Joanna’s throat as the pain and blood made her see stars. Thick scarlet substance coated her whole hand at it just wouldn’t slow down. She couldn’t even think. Searing sting ripped her apart, clogging her mind.
“Any last words before we get down to business?” he asked mocking. “Oh, my bad, I almost forgot; you can’t speak.”
Yes, her life was definitely no movie, or maybe it was a horror. So she expected no hero to ne there for her and end the nightmare. To her great surprise, she was very calm when faced with her imminent doom. Must have come from her mother’s side, all that level-headedness.
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Darcy stepped in Mrs. Tompkins’s office, closing the door gently after herself. Jane was a step ahead of her, with an unreadable expression. It was time for her consult and although she didn’t seem nervous she wasn’t exactly relaxed either.
The consult was fairly routine. The doctor asked a few questioned to which Jane answered stiffly, then checked her pulse and suggested a blood test. Darcy urged Jane to agree. Since she was a fellow employee of the hospital things moved along fast enough and forty-five minutes later Dr. Tompkins had the results in her hand.
“Congratulations, Ms Foster, you are pregnant. About eight weeks along.” It wasn’t really a shock but Darcy hadn’t expected it. Jane nodded and thanked the doctor, pulling Darcy along as they made their way out of the hospital.
“Do you want me to stay over at your place tonight?” the dark haired girl asked cautiously. She didn’t really know what to make of the situation but she’s support Jane anyway she needed.
The pathologist sighed loudly. “If it’s not asking too much.”
‘It’s not.” Darcy assured her. “I’ll call from your phone when we get there. Mine’s dead.” Jane nodded absently. “So, who’s the father?”
The question seemed to startle her blonde friend. “This guy I slept with after having too much to drink.” She shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I think his name started with ‘T’.”
“Are you keeping the child?” It was a curious situation Jane had landed herself in. Darcy saw her nod and inclined her head in understanding. “Do you want to find the father?”
“Darce, really! The only thing I remember is that he was tall, blonde and had one heck of a sculptured body. Like some sort of god. I don’t even know his name.”
“From the description you gave me, I totally understand why you took that one-night stand. But what happened to keeping it safe?”
“Too much alcohol.” Jane replied dryly.
“If you do remember anything just let me know. Whoever this guy is, shrinking his responsibilities is not something I’ll let him get away with.”
“You’re my best friend, you know.” Jane said with a small smile, clutching to Darcy’s arm as they walked to her apartment.
A smirk lit her friend’s face. “It’s the least I can do. You’ve put up with my messes far too many times.” Darcy offered, holding onto Jane just as tightly.
The rest of the walk was comfortably silent, each woman lost in her won little world. They had something to think about and a little quietness helped the process along most formidably.
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“How’s Jane?” Loki asked his partner the next day.
“Surprised, but fine.” Darcy replied with ease, arranging the reports on her desk. “I’ve been meaning to ask you…”
“Yes?” prompted the male.
“Do you think you could give me the apartment this Saturday? I want to have Jane over, because honestly, she needs the company.”
Always the politer one, Loki nodded his head adding an “I don’t mind.” after. “I’ll just go and visit Odin in hospital. Maybe try to convince him to have that surgery.”
Darcy was about to reply that she was very grateful when the door was tore off its hinges, and Thor rushed in. He was red in the face, breathing heavily, clearly tired. Loki scowled at the intruder. “What happened, Thor? Is it Odin?”
“No.” said the blonde breathlessly. A moment later he added, a bit more clearly, “No, he’s stable for now. This is about you case actually.”
“Do tell.” Darcy urged, apprehension spilling over her features. “What news do you bring?”
“The girl you found, her name was Catherin Margery Dyne. Parents reported her missing when she failed to come home, three days ago.”
“Any chance we can talk to them?” Loki asked, keeping his eyes glued to Thor.
“Yes, actually, they wanted to talk to you too. They want to identify the body.”
Loki rose from his seat and signed Darcy along. “Yes. Of course.”
On her part, Darcy was nervous. Parents were the hardest to deal with, not because they made it so, but because she had the tendency of feeling their agony too keenly. She couldn’t help but think of all the things that might go wrong when faced with parents mourning their child. Secretly, Darcy had always wanted children of her own but to bring them in a world such as the one she lived in wasn’t exactly thrilling.
Besides, she hadn’t discussed it with Loki yet. She could bring a child up on her own but she’d rather not. A child would be best raised in a fully functional family. This made her think of Jane. In the back of her mind, Darcy wondered if everything would turn out fine. She certainly hoped it did.
“Let’s go.”
So, we have a bit of info of character;s history for your viewing pleasure and to clear a few things up. Another possible strike from out mysterious murderer, some drama (or maybe a lot) and glorious friendship between Darcy and Jane.
The whole crime thing is totally new to me. Hope I did well.
