Dark Star || Loki [1]

[51] She

2 MAY, 2011

LOKI

The cold blasted him like a frozen tidal wave, sheets of sharp ice whistling through the stirring air. Ice, like glass shards that glinted off the stars. Ice, like knives in his skin, smart cuts that knew precisely where he hurt. A teetering chunk of rock shivered beneath his feet, a glittering black mass of unforgiving stone that froze him like roots in winter.

And then there was the wolf. A silvery coat smoothed by the sparkling mist of the icy typhoon in her wake. Blue eyes speckled with gold that were fierce and sure and brave. Brave like he wasn't. Brave like he could never be.

He blinked, and Astrid was there. Golden-blue eyes alight with a courageous recklessness he hated and adored. Admired. He stared. All her beauty, untouched by the war of ice around her. One of her hands holding one of his knives like it was made to.

He took her other hand because he could-because it was a dream and he just wanted to. His fingers fit around hers wonderfully, that warmth inside of her a golden spot of sunlight that melted the ice encasing his bones. It was his secret-that she made everything warm and bright and made him stop freezing for just a moment. Perfect, fleeting moment. Astrid watched him.

The thing in the blistering darkness sent another blast their way, a vast sheet of glassy ice that seemed to cackle on the wind. He took Astrid around the waist and pulled her against him, the ice slicing into his back and falling, bloodied and chipped, to the rock upon which they stood. He didn't know why he'd done it, and done it without thinking for a second, but when she lifted her unscarred face to him, those eyes swirling like a storm of the sky and the sun, he smiled down at her.

He'd seen her cry before. It was awful when she did, noises of choking anguish escaping her mouth as though they'd been crawling up her throat for years. Her eyes would shimmer with golden tears and her cheeks would turn red because she was so angry at herself for crying. But this time was different. She was quiet.

He was still holding her hand, their fingers tightly intertwined as though they'd tried to become one, somehow. Every drop of sunlight within him fizzled, and a cold rain began to fall. The warmth was gone: from him, from her, from the world.

He remembered her face when she fell, dropping to her knees and pulling the shard of ice from her heart like it weighed nothing more than a feather. Still beautiful even in death, even as the light flickered to ash in her eyes and her sun-touched skin faded like an eons-old painting... Astrid Louvelle died quietly, holding their connected hands between them as though she could bring him with her.

And then she became ashes in his hands, crumbling between his fingers that had once held hers. It felt like ages ago that he had felt her-a memory captured in a brief brushstroke of brilliant colour on a canvas doused in a miserable grey. He'd thought of her short human life, but he'd never thought that he would have been the one to kill her.

The thing from the darkness stepped out and grinned, catlike. Its skin was frosty blue, eyes fiercer than the blood on his hands. It said one word, and its voice was his.

"Monster."

And then it disappeared. He was alone, the ashes of his best friend, his Astrid, scattered by his feet, no longer blowing away in the silent, still air.

He woke himself up. He didn't want to live here anymore. Not if this was how it would be.

•••

He had been staring at his arm for an hour.

Typically, it would be a bizarre hobby, but it had become somewhat of a crutch. His skin was pale and just how it should be, unmarred by the icy burn of a Jotun's touch. It should have been a relief, but Loki was beginning to think he was cursed.