The Forever Mortal (слэш)

Two thousand years was a long time to wander the realms alone.
Loki woke up to an excruciating pain the likes of which he’d never experienced before. With a gasp, he shoved the sweat-drenched sheets away and looked down at his chest. Intact. The skin was warm to the touch, sticky with sweat, but untouched by any wounds besides a small, round scar he didn’t remember having the day before.

No, he thought, even as a voice at the back of his mind whispered: yes.

A shift in focus lit up the room, and another whisper of seiðr told him what he already suspected: this was not a scar, but a brand-new soul mark.