Of Gods and Memories (LokixFemaleReader) [COMPLETED]

21

It isn't hard to find a place that will store my bike for an indefinite amount of time... for a price. The money isn't the problem, and I figure that I'm getting a better deal than I would if I were to find somewhere that charges a rate by the week/month/year, so I'm really not fussed. It just feels weird handing over my bike to someone.

"Don't worry," Loki assure me for the hundredth time, "your motorbike will be perfectly safe."

"I know," I chew the inside of my cheek, watching as one of the people working wheels it away into a decidedly run down looking shipping container. "It just doesn't feel right."

"Here's your receipt," someone says, and I take the bit of paper. "Don't lose it," he cautions, "that's the only way you can get your bike back."

"Thanks," I turn to go, shoving it in my pocket and gesturing for Loki to follow me. We're in a very remote area as it is, but just for safety we waste one more hour walking into the completely deserted foothills of one of the mountains. I don't know which one, but a mountain is a mountain and it doesn't matter anyway.

"Alright," I stop, stretching my back and looking up at the cloud streaked sky, "let's give this a shot." I take Loki's hand, holding the other one high above my head and waving frantically. "Heimdall!" I yell into the vast expanse of blue, "I wanna come home!"

For a minute I don't think anything's going to happen, so I draw breath to yell again. Just as I'm about to tell him that I've served my punishment, that I don't need to stay on Earth any longer, there's a burst of blinding rainbow light and we're both hurtling upwards towards Asgard.

"You should not have come," the gatekeeper rumbles as I'm regaining my balance. Loki, as always, is annoyingly unaffected.

"We're here now," I grin, spreading my hands out in front of me.

"You are both still criminals and threats to Asgard," Heimdall surveys us carefully with his deep golden eyes, his fingers noticeably still curled around his sword.

"I served my sentence," I drop all pretence of friendliness, stepping forwards, "I should be free to go."

"And him?" Heimdall turns to Loki, who keeps his face completely deadpan.

"I was declared dead until a few weeks ago," he points out, "shouldn't that count for something?"

"The alfather will not see it so," Heimdall warns, "but I am willing to let you pass. Let his judgement be law."

"Thankyou, gatekeeper," Loki starts towards the golden city in the distance and I follow, casting one last at Heimdall and the sword in his hands.

Walking across the Bifrost and through the streets of Asgard is like opening the downloads folder on a laptop. My downloads folder, anyway. I can remember things I didn't even know I'd forgotten, and some things I don't remember, but know that I should. It's exciting, annoying, fun and weird all at once and I love every second of it.

Some time before we got to the actual city, Loki changed his appearance to a woman of about 40 with greying hair and olive skin, wearing a somewhat baggy green dress. I look down at myself to find that I'm a boy. A twelve-year-old boy with a red tunic and dark brown pants tucked into a pair of boots.

"So what are we disguised as?" I hiss into his ear, ignoring the distracting smell of rosewater that makes me think of gold curtains for some reason. My voice isn't my voice, it's a twelve year-old-boy's voice which I'm grateful for because it means I won't sound weird when I talk.

"I'm your mother," he replies, "we need to speak to his majesty urgently regarding your recently deceased father and compensation for his services as a guard."

"Ok," I say, shrugging.

"No," he grabs my arm and pulls me away from where my eyes were glued to a window full of weapons, "you can't speak like a Midgardian here, and your accent has to be seen to."

"My accent?" I'd received a few questions about where I was from on Earth, and I knew that I sounded British to them, but I shouldn't have an accent here.

"Yes. You spent most of your time in America, so you sound like them now. You must speak like an Asgardian."

"I've got to..."

"No, you must."

"I must speak like an Asgardian," I do a very sarcastic impression of how Loki talks, rolling my eyes. "That better?"

"Yes," he sighs, "I suppose it will have to do."

"Name and business?" One of the guards at the gate stops us, and I glance at Loki. Luckily, a little boy seeking his mother's eyes for assurance isn't uncommon, so none of the guards think anything of it.

"Ingird Halfdandottir," he replies immediately, "and my son Arne Sturlurson. We come seeking an audience with the Alfather."

"The Alfather is very busy..."

"It is a matter of compensation for my recently dead husband, killed in battle serving Asgard's throne."

The guard turns to one of his comrades, conferring in whispers for a minute before returning to face us.

"Very well," he says, "you may pass."

"Thankyou," Loki smiles as he is granted entrance to the palace, pulling me along by the hand.

Walking these halls feels so familiar it almost physically hurts. I look around at the copious amounts of gold over everything, all of it gleaming warmly as if welcoming me home. My boots clunk heavily on the floors, echoing in the vast spaces that we walk through.

"Where are we going?" I ask as Loki continues to walk, though of course I recognise this path. How many times had I run these exact hallways, fleeing from Thor and his friends or baring exciting news from the kitchens?

"My rooms," Loki answers quietly, glancing around furtively before changing us to look like two servants. Wordlessly, I keep following until we get to the large wooden door that I've kicked open so many times, knocked on in the middle of the night, slammed in people's faces and collapsed against with laughter. We both stop, staring at it. Everything seems surreal, like I'm dreaming. I wonder what would happen if we opened the door, what would be waiting for us?

Loki draws a deep breath, then lays a palm on the hard wood and pushes inwards, stepping slowly into the room beyond. I hang back a bit, not sure if I'm entirely to go in there. It's odd, how much I wanted to do this just a few hours ago, and yet now that I'm standing right here I can't seem to move. I'm frozen in place, not sure exactly what I'm feeling that's topping me taking two steps into the room, just knowing that I can't, at least not right now.

"(Y/N)?" Loki calls gently, coming around the corner still looking like a servant, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," I breathe, still not moving.

"Love, you look like you've seen a ghost," he says, "are you quite sure?"

"Yeah," I nod, staring ahead. I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. All the bits and pieces of memory swirling around my head are too much, bits of fragmented information and snatches of conversations had years ago, emotions roiling with them.

"(Y/N)," Loki's voice reaches me like he's calling down a tunnel, barely distinguishable from the chatter and sounds inside my head. "(Y/N)!"