You weren't even paying attention to the packed theater staring at you. Not when Loki was murder-strutting his way up to you. Thor hadn't moved. He was still standing in front of the movie screen. His eyes were on you as well.

You should have been afraid of Loki murder-strutting up the stairs to reach your row. Really, any sane person would have been, but you'd never claimed to be sane. You were also still awed that Loki was your soulmate and he was coming to find you. That he actively wanted to find you.

The people in your aisle lowered their footrests as he strode down the aisle, or otherwise made sure they were out of his way. No one would get in the way of the god on a mission. He didn't seem angry, but he was definitely on a mission to get to you and you saw in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, that nothing would get in the way of that goal.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. Sure, he's seemed tall in the news footage, but it was one thing to know that on an intellectual level and another thing to see it in real life. You had to look up at him when he got close. His eyes were a startling emerald, currently bright with excitement and... hope. There was hope in his eyes, hope that he'd finally found his soulmate after centuries of looking.

He reached forward and took your hand, lifting it so he could see the glowing words on your arm. His hand was cold in yours, but soft and gentle, tentative, as if he was afraid that you would break or vanish if he touched you. You noticed that he was wearing full sleeves and gauntlets.

Fuck.

There was no way to cheat and see what words you were supposed to say. Not that you would have done that. It was cheating. It was an idle thought. The words were preordained. If Loki really was your soulmate, no matter what you said, they would be the words on his arm.

You looked up into his eyes and got lost there. You knew he was handsome, but there were no words in English that you could string together to describe his beauty. It was an otherworldly beauty, especially in his eyes. He was a god and that was evident in his looks, his slim, but muscled body, pale perfect skin, gorgeous emerald eyes, totally kissable lips, chiseled cheekbones, long braidable raven hair.

Kissable lips.

Definitely kissable lips.

"Oh gods, it really is you," you said in awe. Those words were stupid. Your brain was stupid. But that's all you could think of at the moment. It really was Loki and he really was here to meet you.

Loki's eyes widened in shock and you realized from that expression that what you had said matched the words tattooed on his arm, even though you couldn't see the words at the moment to confirm. Your suspicion was confirmed by the flash of power in his tattoo. You could practically feel the power as it flared between you, seemed to connect you somehow.

You'd heard of such things before, of course. A lot of times couples shared traits when the soulmate was found. Usually, it was something like native languages being exchanged, or suddenly being able to play an instrument that your soulmate can.

This felt... different.

"That is not how I imagined those words being said, my dear," Loki said with a smirk of amusement on his face. Loki lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles. "I like your version much better than the way I heard it in my head all these centuries." You thought over your words again at what he said and realized that without the inflection, he must've thought that he would be rejected. He hadn't read it as 'it really is you' but instead as 'it really is you'. As if being with Loki were a punishment or a horrible fate. His expression softened and he reached to cup your cheek in an awed, loving gesture. "I have been waiting for you a long, long time, my soulmate," he said softly, his voice was like honey, accented, courteous, and perfect. He smirked and pulled you closer, wrapping his arm possessively around your waist, ignoring your squeak of surprise. He looked over your head to where Thor was standing in front of the screen watching the pair of you. "Take care of things here, will you, brother dear?" He asked far too pleasantly. He was up to something and you and Thor both knew it. Why else would he call Thor 'brother dear'?

No one was that nice to their sibling unless they were up to something.

"Loki..." Thor said warningly, placatingly. He held up a hand to stop whatever Loki was up to.

But it was too late.

Far too late.

Loki's magic wrapped around the pair of you in a shimmer of green. You saw Sophie jump to her feet as it did, her shock finally subsiding at Loki's magic around you. "Y/N!" She called and reached out a hand for you.

Before you could even think to do anything, the world fell away from you, going black for a moment. Loki's grip on you tightened. When you blinked again, you found yourself in a huge well-lit room with too many windows, a giant TV, a bunch of couches and comfy chairs and coffee and end tables. There was a dining room and a kitchen in view as well as an elevator.

You swayed when you reappeared and Loki steadied you, holding you safely against his chest. "Easy, drotning," he said gently, soothingly. It was far more gentle than you'd expect from the god of mischief.

"What-?" You asked, unable to form proper words as you focused on the room swirling around you and the funny black spots in your vision.

"Teleporting is difficult the first time. It'll pass in a moment," he promised and continued to hold you in his safe, strong arms.

His words were true and you got your feet under you a moment later. You stepped out of his grip and looked up at him, shocked, confused, and more than a little angry that he'd apparently teleported you out of the theater.

He gave you a placating look. "My apologies, drotning. I wished for us to speak more privately than in a theater packed with mortals. It wasn't safe there," he explained gently You saw a spark of worry in his eyes and realized that it wasn't for you leaving him, or being angry with him, but for your safety.

The entire theater had seen you claimed by the god of mischief. By a god who had sparked the battle of New York, even though it wasn't by his own choice.

"Where are we?" You demanded. It was the first thing you could think of. And it seemed important at the moment. Even if you had no way of contacting Soph, or getting your stuff from the theater. Or leaving wherever this was...

This was not at all how you'd planned on meeting your soulmate.

Loki gave you a polite, courteous, smile and gestured to the room around you. "Welcome, drotning, to the Avengers Tower,"