Loki X Reader || Frostfire: Love Amidst Ice and Flame

Part 16: The Blood of Gods

The aftermath of battle had turned Asgard's grand hall into a somber, makeshift infirmary. Once echoing with the clangor of weapons and the rallying cries of warriors, it now lay under a heavy pall of silence.

Bloodstains marred the polished marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of iron and sweat, mingled with the acrid tang of burnt flesh. The warriors who had stood proudly in gleaming armor now lay scattered, their battle-worn bodies draped over makeshift beds.

Healers moved among them with quiet efficiency, their soft murmurs adding a fragile sense of normalcy. Occasionally, a pained groan pierced the quiet, a reminder of the battle's toll. The grandeur of the chamber—its high ceilings and intricate carvings—felt swallowed by the violence that had taken place.

Y/N stood amidst the wounded, her heart still racing. The once-symbolic space of beauty and strength now felt alien to her, the dim light and the smell of blood a twisted reflection of the battle she had just endured.

But more than anything, it was the memory of the dark figure that haunted her—the way he had emerged from the shadows, his presence suffocating. His voice echoed in her mind: "The key to Asgard's downfall lies within you."

Even now, as she stood among the injured, Y/N could feel the remnants of a wild energy pulsing through her veins, stirred by his words. It frightened her, and his final warning lingered: "You cannot escape your destiny, child. You are the harbinger of Asgard's end."

Thor moved through the scene of chaos, a pillar of strength amidst the disorder. His presence bolstered the spirits of those around him, even as his armor bore the marks of countless strikes. When his sharp eyes found Y/N, his expression softened with worry.

When Thor's gaze landed on Y/N, standing alone with a strained posture, his expression softened with worry. Her armor was streaked with blood and grime, its once pristine surface marred by the battle's aftermath.

Thor quickly closed the distance. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice a mix of relief and concern. Without waiting for her to protest, he guided her to a nearby bench, and gently urged her to remove her armor, offering her a moment of respite from its weight.

"You are wounded," he said, his tone unusually tender. Thor knelt beside her, his large frame blocking out the dim light, and began to help her clean her wounds with a fresh cloth. His hands hovered over her arm, uncertain whether to touch it or not, but filled with concern.

Y/N looked up at Thor, her eyes reflecting a mixture of exhaustion and determination. Despite the lingering pain in her arm, she appreciated the genuine concern in his eyes. Thor was a warrior, a leader, but in these quiet moments, he was something more—a reassuring presence.

But even as she acknowledged this, a part of her bristled at the idea of being seen as vulnerable. She had fought hard and didn't want to be reduced to a damsel in distress, especially not in front of Thor.

"I'm fine, Thor," she said, her voice steady despite the pain. She quickly moved the cloth away from her arm, revealing a wound—nasty, but already beginning to heal. "See? Nothing I can't handle."

She offered him a small, reassuring smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. She was determined to prove she could handle the aftermath of battle without being coddled.

Thor's eyes narrowed slightly, not entirely convinced by her bravado. He had seen enough to know when someone was downplaying their pain, but he also knew Y/N well enough to recognize that pushing too hard would only make her retreat further.

He let out a quiet sigh, nodding in acknowledgment of her words, but his hand remained close, ready to offer support if she needed it.

"Even the strongest need not stand alone. You carry great burdens, but they need not be yours to bear alone," Thor said quietly.

"Thanks, Thor," she replied softly. "But I'm good. Really."

He nodded, standing up and lingering a moment longer. "You fought with honor, Y/N. There is more strength in you than you know. The blood of the gods runs in your veins."

Before Y/N could respond, Lady Sif approached, her armor still gleaming despite the battle's toll. Her mere presence commanded respect—an unspoken testament to her skill and unwavering resolve.

Sif's piercing gaze scanned Y/N, assessing her anew as if seeing a different warrior from the one she had known before.

"You fought with remarkable valor today," Sif said, her voice carrying the gravity of hard-earned respect. "Your performance outshone even those who have trained for decades. And I must confess, I hadn't expected you to command such power. The frost and flame within you—it's extraordinary. You withstood pain in a way I haven't witnessed before."

Y/N absorbed Sif's words, feeling their weight settle over her like a mantle of honor. "I didn't think much of you at first," Sif continued, her tone firm but not unkind. "Not due to a lack of skill, but because you were untested. But today, you've earned my respect."

Sif's praise was spare but sincere, adding a layer of pride to Y/N's sense of achievement. "Thank you, Lady Sif," Y/N replied, her voice steady and resolute. "I'll continue to prove my worth."

Sif's rare smile flickered before she nodded in approval. "Make sure you do. Remember, strength alone isn't enough. You're one of us now, and that carries weight."

Sif turned to Thor, and as they left, the quiet hall seemed to close in on Y/N. The cool stone beneath her sharply contrasted with the lingering heat in her muscles, and a deep sense of exhaustion and unease settled over her as she faced the empty space.

Y/N looked down at her wounds and saw them beginning to knit themselves together. The gashes that had torn through her flesh moments ago were now mere scratches, fading rapidly.

A strange warmth spread through her, like an internal fire she didn't fully understand. It was both comforting and unsettling—an unmistakable power that felt foreign yet undeniably hers. She flexed her fingers, watching as the last of her wounds closed, leaving only faint traces behind.

The rapid healing left Y/N with more questions than answers. What was this power, and why had it surfaced so strongly now? Thor's words echoed in her mind: "The blood of the gods flows through you, Y/N." The power felt foreign, as if it belonged to something—or someone—else. Panic tightened her chest as the question she dreaded surfaced:

What am I becoming?