Transparent ஐ Loki

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SYN stumbled upon a warrior sharpening a Dragonfang sword. That was enough for her to realize she was in the presence of a great warrior and the last of her kind. "You're a Valkyrie?" She asked, eyes wide. That made the Valkyrie look up and set aside her whetstone.

"Let me guess," the woman started, disinterested and annoyed, "you wanted to be one when you were little too?" That seemed to be the case with every bloody Asgardian she'd come across as of late. 

Syn shook her head, not put off by the harsh response. "My grandmother was a Valkyrie," she explained. "Kára." That had been her name. Syn remembered her mother telling her stories of Kára, of the Valkyries. Those had been some of her favorites. 

"I'm sorry," the Valkyrie said, now regretting her terse introduction. She had known Kára well. Had watched as the Goddess of Death slew her and all her shieldmaiden sisters. The warrior rose and shifted awkwardly on her feet. Socializing wasn't one of her strong points. "I didn't catch your name."

The Goddess of Truth glanced out of the large window that showed the bleakness of the galaxy. "Syn," she replied. The Valkyrie gave a quick nod, now understanding who stood before her. "And yours?"

The Valkyrie slid her famed sword back within its sheath. "Brunnhilde."

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When the door to their chambers aboard the Statesman slid open, he was beaming. Syn couldn't recall the last time she had seen a smile so genuine grace his features. Loki rushed forward and took her face into his hands. His kiss was slow and filled with passion. It took her breath away and before she could recover, the God of Mischief was ushering from their chambers.

"Loki!" Syn exclaimed, laughing as he took her hand and pulled her through the corridors. It reminded her of the times they'd sneak out of the palace, taking the hidden pathways scattered across Asgard to other realms. "What are you doing?!"

Loki stopped and turned back. His heart swelled at the sight of her. She was pure and innocent. A beacon of light and hope. For some unfathomable reason, she had chosen to give her heart away to him. "Something that should have happened years ago," he told her, only now darkness crept into his voice and shone through on his expression.

He looked down at her and took her delicate hands, holding them tightly within his own. It felt absurd that he was nervous, yet some part of him expected rejection. "Do you still wish to be my wife?" Loki asked.

The question seemed to come from out of nowhere. Syn's brows furrowed. "I already am," she responded. That wasn't a whole truth, though. Odin had never married them. They had exchanged secret vows in the garden at midnight after Frigga had proclaimed him the reigning King of Asgard.

Loki shook his head. "But truly. In the eyes of Asgard, to be their princess," he paused and twisted a silver curl around his nimble finger.

"I suppose," she whispered with a fleeting smile. As far as Syn was concerned, she was already his, wholly. Everyone knew that.

The makeshift throne room was filled with Sakaarian rebels and Asgardian refugees. Syn gave Loki a hard glare, but it faded when he offered the crook of his arm. He had planned this all along. The crowd parted to create an aisle. At the forefront, standing by the captain's chair was Thor. On the stairs leading up to the dais were Brunnhilde and Heimdall.

The congregation clapped and cheered as the God of Mischief and the Goddess of Truth took their first steps toward the altar. This moment had been a long time coming. "Brother," Thor greeted. He then turned toward Syn and smiled, "sister."