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Mischief & Devotion

Unaware of the raspy breaths and thundering footsteps behind him, Loki watched the lightning crackle, drowning out all noise but Thor's boisterous bellowing. Only the cold bite of a blade against his throat and the cloying scent of honeysuckle brought him to his senses, his eyes widening in terror.

"Wait, please wait!" The god desperately tried to stammer out some flowery words, begging and bargaining for his life. It might have been amusing if it wasn't so utterly pathetic.

"Save your silver tongue for someone who cares about your manipulative words," the woman said. Her voice dripping with venom and cutting through the air like an adder's hiss. "I have endured more than enough of your deceitful speech for a lifetime."

Recognising the futility of his words, Loki swallowed, his breath catching in his throat. The metallic taste of fear flooded his senses, momentarily eclipsing the cloying sweetness of honeysuckle. He darted his eyes around, searching for an escape, but the woman's arm held him captive. "Just who are you?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.

The woman's lips curved into a cruel smile. "Someone who has waited a long time to settle the score, trickster."

Loki watched, heart pounding like a trapped bird, as the woman's gaze shifted from him to the scene below. Her smile faltered, replaced by a deep, weary sigh that escaped her lips like a deflated balloon. Her eyes narrowed, focusing on the three figures locked in combat at the cliff's base.

"Of course," she muttered, her voice heavy with a mixture of exasperation and a hint of amusement. "So much for 'easy'."

Below, the giant blonde parried a blow from a man clad in sleek, metallic armour that emitted a faint reddish-yellow glow. Beside them, another man, his face obscured by a helmet, landed a jab on Thor, sending the god stumbling back.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Loki quickly lunged forward towards the edge of the cliff. However, his attempt was met with an impressive display of agility, as the woman reacted with lightning speed, her hand shooting up and gripping his wrist with an iron grip. A breathless yelp escaped his lips as he was yanked back into the knife's grasp again.

"Don't even think about it," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "Our little chat is far from over."

"Of course not, my dear lady," Loki purred, forcing a smile despite the tremor in his voice. His mind raced, desperately searching for an escape plan. He knew brute force wouldn't work against her swift reflexes, and his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps, he thought, deflection could be his saving grace.

"Those... colourful companions of yours seem formidable," he remarked, injecting a hint of curiosity into his voice. "Is there a particular reason they're not involved in our... discussion?"

The woman's eyes narrowed, momentarily distracted by his words. She glanced back down at the scene below, where Thor was now wrestling with the metallic figure. The other man, helmet tilted back revealing a striking face, stood guard, his eyes flicking between them and the clifftop.

"They're not part of the score I came to settle," she finally said, her voice clipped. "They're complications, unexpected ones."

Loki seized his opportunity. "Complications," he echoed, his voice gaining a playful lilt, "are what I do best, wouldn't you agree? Perhaps I can help you... untangle this little mess?"

He knew the suggestion was audacious, bordering on suicidal, but desperation had a way of sparking creativity. He needed to buy himself time, create space between himself and the cold steel threatening his throat. The woman's gaze returned to him, scrutinising, calculating. Her narrowed gaze held him captive, her silence stretching on until it felt like an eternity had passed by. Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with a dangerous edge.