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loki-cees-all · 8 months ago

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Chapter 7 - All the Tiring Time Between {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

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Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Sometimes the sharpest boundaries require the gentlest touch.

Chapter W/c : 8.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Angst (as always), brief mentions of blood and injuries. Also there's a bunch of Tesseract lore and Loki's history with Thanos that I really got carried away with while writing this.

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

The silence in the cell was electrifyingly tense, and Loki wished he had something else to focus his attention on.

His jaw ached as he took another bite of the flavorless, perplexing bread that was both stale and damp at the same time. He should have been grateful for it and its distraction, despite the woman having offered it without even so much as looking at him. But it just reminded him of the year he’d spent with the Mad Titan: Wretched. Forsaken. Totally and completely hopeless.

Loki tried desperately not to think about it, but it was getting harder to fight as his exhaustion grew.

The woman sat across from him in the cell, her knees pulled to her chest and her expression blank. She’d said absolutely nothing after dismissing his question about Anathema the night prior, not even when the peculiar guards brought in their cruel attempt at a meal. She didn’t even flinch when they set the tray down in front of her, nor when the duo stared, cold and unmoving, presumably waiting for her to beg for her life like all the others…but she did wait until they were finally gone to pull the tray closer.

She had grabbed the chunk of bread first, and extended it towards him in the shadows like it was second-nature to her. As if it wasn’t ever an option that she wouldn’t share it, and despite the fact that they were in stark disagreement about their respective situations in this place.

He felt guilty for accepting the offering, but unfortunately, he felt like he had no other choice; his eyelids were growing heavier by the minute, his muscles were becoming weaker with each new day of disuse, and his nerves were perpetually fried with wary energy. He was constantly stifling another yawn, and was dangerously close to falling asleep, to having another nightmare again.

Loki didn’t know if he ever talked in his sleep, but he didn’t want to risk revealing any compromising information about himself or his past; the less anyone knew about him here, the better off they all were.

But other than the food she’d shared with him, there wasn’t much else for him to distract himself with. The woman wasn’t talking anymore, and her questions had faded away alongside the hope she may have once had about escaping. That left Loki to alone deal with his questions about her, and their inscrutable answers.

The problem with that, however, was that his mind was nothing but a tangled mess; a rat’s nest, made up of lies and false memories, the betrayals of the life he’d left behind, and all the lives that never were. Before him lay a scattering of dots, all seemingly unrelated and centered around a woman who claimed she didn’t know what they wanted with her, and he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of any of it.

Loki used to pride himself on his ability to see the bigger picture, especially on a galactic scale. But he had come here to hide and to wallow, to purposely let his mind atrophy into a cobweb of nothingness, because that was easier than continue trying, and failing, to be happy. He felt comfortable doing that, and letting this become his legacy, because he hadn’t ever expected a riddle to fall into his lap again. He hadn’t ever expected her.

As Loki swallowed the last of the bread, he forced himself to look at her again. She was still huddled against the wall, illuminated by the dim lantern light from the hallway and shivering in the cold dungeon like a scared little child. He was flabbergasted that she was still here, that they’d bothered bringing her back after being caught during an escape attempt. And he couldn’t help but hate himself, because the old Loki could have figured out why that was a very long time ago.

Next to her, the bowl of porridge sat on the floor, mostly untouched and definitely not enjoyed. Her expression was sullen as she stared off into the distance, and her limbs were folded around herself as she retreated deeper inward. It almost made him feel…something.

Of what exactly, Loki wasn’t quite sure; the feeling was old and familiar, something that was long lost while never really being understood in the first place. He told himself that the feeling was irrelevant, because it was just the mystery he found equal parts infuriating and intriguing. He just needed a bit more time than usual to settle the question marks, and then he could finally return to the blissful void of apathy.

And maybe she wasn’t lying when she claimed to not know who Anathema was, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she had no idea why the guards were so interested in her. Either she had something of theirs, or she knew some mysterious piece of information they didn’t yet - but they were obviously willing to play the long game in order to acquire it, and that couldn’t have been for nothing.

Perhaps it had something to do with the gem dangling from her necklace. Loki had seen her touching it, frequently and absentmindedly, running her slender fingers over the deep blue stone during stressed and quiet moments like now. Clearly it meant a lot to her; someone who loved her had given it to her. Someone she loved back, someone she probably missed dearly…

As he started to wonder if anyone was out there looking for her, Loki realized he was staring and quickly averted his eyes. They landed once again upon the bowl of uneaten porridge next to her, and a new form of discomfort wove itself between the muscles of his shoulders and neck. It wrapped around his nerve-endings, stinging the open and frayed tendrils that had been worn bare from the pain of still being alive.

He was quite vulnerable existing like this, even though he knew she couldn’t see him hiding in the shadows. That she didn’t know what he was thinking, or where he was looking. That she was unaware of the fleeting relief that poured into his veins when she was brought back to the cell alive, or his shame at feeling anything that had immediately replaced it.

Loki had been flippant when she was initially brought in here. He was angry the first time she tried to share a meal with him. And then he was conflicted, at best, when she was dragged back in the second time. This paltry range of emotions was far more than he was previously used to; he felt like he was drowning in it, like it was slowly collapsing his airways and squeezing out every last ounce of oxygen from his lungs.

Because there was only one person on this planet who knew his name. A single individual, throughout all of space and time, knew where he was. She was the sole witness to his current existence, and he’d never felt more uncomfortable or on display than here and now. She had met him at his worst, in his ultimate moment of triumph when he’d finally been able to remove himself from any and all equations, from every problem that ever needed solving, and he absolutely hated that.

Loki thought he’d finally accounted for everything when he had stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon. He thought he’d finally fixed the issue, himself, for literally everyone - and then this tiny little variable had shown up so unexpectedly to completely ruin it for him.

He should have been angrier about it. He should have been furious and seething and shaking with rage over this egregious betrayal of the universe. Being alone had been the whole point, keeping everyone safe from him had been his only intention, seeking protection from the pain of both betrayal and being betrayed was all that Loki had left. Why wasn’t he allowed that meager peace of mind?

Damnation clung to Loki like a frightened child clung to his mother’s skirts, trembling in the dark and begging for acknowledgement of its traumatized state. It lurked around every corner and it haunted every shadow, constantly weeping and whimpering and howling out its anguish to cruel and uncaring souls. It was always there, lingering in the corner of his eye, reminding him of just how helpless and useless he was. That he should just give up. That he should just end it already.

But sometimes, the damnation would transform into something far more sinister, into the tall, skulking form of a cerulean demon. Hanging over his shoulder and digging its claws into his neck, the demon would spit cruel maledictions into his ear. Didn’t Loki know that everyone around him was already doomed? Wouldn’t it be kinder to just kill them now, rather than waiting for him to ruin their life and then cruelly and inevitably take it from them?

Hiding in the dungeon was the only reasonable compromise between the frightened child and the viscous demon warring in his mind. If only he had stuck with that plan, if only he hadn’t revealed that someone else was alive in the cell with her, then maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

Regret, his oldest and only friend, wouldn’t be blaring its horn and sounding the alarm bells and crying out for solace. So why did it bother him so much now that she wasn’t eating?

Loki shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, weighing the options in his mind. The regret of initially engaging with this woman didn’t mean he couldn’t change tactics; and if she wasn’t eating, then it wouldn’t be too much longer until he was on his own again. That had been his initial plan, and there was no reason he couldn’t return to that now. Wasn’t being alone all he ever wanted?

“You should finish your meal. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before they bring another…” The words felt like acid on Loki’s tongue, dripping down his throat to eat away at his insides. He hoped they had come out as bluntly as he’d intended, but in reality, it just sounded like something his mother would have said.

This time, the woman didn’t shudder when he finally broke the tense silence. She didn’t even react at all, other than to sigh heavily and respond in a low and flattened tone. “What’s the point…?”

“Well, clearly they’d prefer you to be alive, for whatever reason…” Loki’s jaw tensed as he paused, struggling to understand why he was even bothering. “Even if they bring food on an irregular basis, it’s still more than anyone else gets…”

“Maybe the only reason they want me alive is so they can continue mocking and hurting me.”

That was a more difficult point to contend with; perhaps the guards had just grown weary of the simple and mundane murders, and they’d decided to go with something more entertaining this time. What if there wasn’t a more complicated explanation for the guards' motivations? What if he was searching for logic that didn’t even exist?

Loki stifled another yawn as he leaned back against the stone wall, raking his fingers through tangled curls that were just as chaotic as his thoughts. There had to be something he was missing while attempting to put this puzzle together. “So what did the guards say when they caught you escaping?”

The woman let out a heavy exhale, and her tone shifted into a more sarcastic tone. “Oh, normal things like what are you doing out of your cell?, and no one’s coming to rescue you. Typical kidnapper things, you know…”

Loki couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her nonchalant answers, but what else was he expecting? He was beginning to wonder if it was even worth putting this much effort into avoiding sleep. Nothing else in his life prior to meeting her had been easy, so why was he expecting this to go smoothly?

“Actually, the guard did say something strange before knocking me out…” The woman trailed off, pausing as she furrowed her brow.

Loki cleared his throat as he looked towards her again. “Strange how?”

“Maxine - or Nulan, whichever one it was…They caught me upstairs in their private quarters. Just before attacking me, they said what is gone…may never return.” The woman pulled her lower lip between her teeth as she recalled the memory. “I’ve never heard it before, and I have no idea what it means…”

What is gone…may never return. Loki turned the phrase backward and forward in his mind, trying to find its place in this absolutely confounding puzzle. But he’d never heard anyone say anything even remotely close to it, so there was nowhere for it to go. The phrase’s sentiment, however, he understood perfectly well.

“It was probably just a threat, or a taunt…” she continued with a dismissive shake of her head. “They were just mocking me, for losing everything…”

“Or it’s a prayer. A desperate request, for some kind of reprieve…” Loki murmured in reply. He didn’t want to think about whether anyone had ever hoped for the same thing after he’d finally walked away, but he was positive that they had. And he hadn’t meant for his interpretation to sound so melancholy, but as his gaze caught the woman’s matching expression, he could feel her understanding of his meaning. Loki hated that.

She must have sensed that as well, because she quickly forced a false smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “No…surely they must have been talking about me losing my boots.”

Her smile faded just as quickly as it had appeared, shifting into a grimace as a violent shiver shuddered over the limbs she struggled to pull close enough. She breathed out a heavy sigh and lowered her forehead to her knees with another tremble, and for once, Loki was grateful for the Jotun physiology keeping him relatively comfortable. But the woman didn’t share the same luxury of such a curse, and she was clearly suffering in these dank and grim conditions.

Loki turned his attention towards his fingers, twitching and fidgeting restlessly in his lap. This particular guilt was both new and unwelcome, like the haunting of fresh ghosts he thought he’d finally manage to not brutally murder for once. It wasn’t directly his fault she was here, that she was suffering. She was a complete stranger, after all, and this couldn’t have been his problem, or his responsibility.

But as Loki lifted his gaze again, carefully moving his eyes to avoid looking upon her once more, he caught a glimpse of the woman’s forgotten boots in the shadows, the ones carelessly stripped away while the guards were searching her the night before.

He recalled one of the first lessons Odin had explained about ruling a kingdom, that sometimes tact and finesse were far more effective than blades or might. Perhaps if Loki was kind instead of harsh, and if he returned the boots to the frozen woman, then she might help alleviate the nagging questions he still had and allow him to fight off sleep for just a little bit longer.

His brow furrowed, and he swallowed hard as he realized this was the least he could do for the both of them. It wasn’t much, but it felt like chopping off a limb when he cleared his throat and forced himself to speak again. “Your, um…boots are in here. They might help you with the…cold.”

The woman’s head popped back up, and her eyes narrowed as she scanned for them in the darkness. “Where are they? I don’t - ” she replied, clumsily attempting to push herself upright, obviously eager to get them back on as soon as possible.

Loki felt an odd sense of duty, one that had been buried deep underneath the many eons of pain, and it compelled him to act before he had the chance to second-guess himself. He moved slowly, shifting his weight onto his hip, and extended his arm out. His fingers were just long enough to barely grasp the black leather pull loops, to drag them closer and then place them within her reach while maintaining a safe distance, and without the need for him to stand.

A faint smile crossed her lips as she stretched to pull them closer. “Thank you so much, Loki.”

He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact anymore; it was hard enough to listen to the bewildered gratitude in her voice. His every movement had stayed within the safe confines of the shadows, and he imagined that she saw her boots reappearing as if from the loving aid of a benevolent god, of someone else who was capable of caring.

“It was nothing,” he told them both.

He had fully intended to return his attention back inward, but he found himself distracted by the woman as she shifted on the floor. Curling and stretching her limbs, gracelessly attempting to pull a boot back on with a single hand, and then reluctantly, with both hands. She let out a gasping whimper as she tried to extend out her left arm, and Loki noticed her fingers trembling as she tried to push through the pain.

Obligation flared along his spine again, but this time, Loki questioned it. A childhood memory surfaced, of when his father would return home from war, bruised and exhausted and weary, and Loki would rush to his side, eager to help with removing his armor and assist in any way he could. He thought maybe if he proved himself useful, eager and determined, like his older brother was, then Odin might finally give him a chance to fight alongside him.

But even though his seidr had been well-advanced for his age, his father had always refused to bring Loki along, despite never leaving home without Thor. Odin had said that Loki wasn’t ready yet, that he wasn’t strong enough, that it was too dangerous for a little boy to be out on the field and surrounded by their mortal enemies.

“Such a young prince falling into the hands of Asgard’s opponents could prove disastrous to the realms,” his father had said, even though that fear had never stopped him from bringing Thor into battle. It wasn’t until much later that Loki realized the truth, that the only real use he had wasn’t needed back then - not until the direst of circumstances forced his father’s ultimate and final hand.

The woman let out a sharp groan, bringing Loki back to the present. She had collapsed back against the wall, sniffling and brushing the messy strands of crimson hair away from her face. “Loki, I’m so sorry…but can you please…?”

His eyes widened, and hers were full of tears. Her cheeks reddened, and her lower lip trembled as she spoke with a cracked voice. “Please help me? I’m so cold, and I can’t…I can’t get these back on…”

It wasn’t like the cold, calculating demands he was previously used to, and Loki realized that it pained her to ask like this. She wasn’t trying to get anything out of him, she wasn’t manipulating her way into something more than she deserved, or trying to get him to commit atrocities in her name.

It wasn’t a game or a trick designed to be laughed at later with her friends; she genuinely just needed his help. But the problem was that this kind of assistance not only required him to vacate the shadows, to come closer and share the same air as her - it necessitated physical touch. Loki was sure he couldn’t handle that.

The muscles in his fingers articulated of their own accord, separating and curling into just the right place to summon and concentrate his seidr, intent on disassembling the atoms that made up the woman’s boots and reassembling them back where they belonged.

A suitable compromise, Loki believed, except that absolutely nothing happened. The warmth that normally accompanied his magic was nowhere to be found, that familiar connection to the past and the present, to his mother, wasn’t opening its loving arms to welcome him back home - and that was when he finally remembered.

Loki’s seidr was dead, because he was supposed to be dead.

He’d forsaken his magic as soon as he’d arrived here. Once he willingly stepped through the Time Door and into this dungeon, once he’d realized that the first thing this newly-freed universe had done was trap him yet again, he decided that this time it was really meant to be.

So he didn’t bother fighting it, and he willingly let go of the tendrils of seidr he had once clung so tightly to. He didn’t deserve the honor of wielding it, not after what he’d done in New York. And what use would that magic have been to the hollowed-out shell of a person he was now? What good could he have possibly done with it anyway?

“Loki?”

Once again, the woman’s quiet voice refocused his attention. Her expression had fallen even further during his silent brooding, and she was staring woefully into the dark, desperately hoping to see him finally coming to her aid. A deep sense of dread rose up within his chest, thick and impenetrable, oozing between his ribs to singe and suffocate his lungs like molten lava.

Loki didn’t know what to do, and yet, he moved anyway. Pressing his palms flat against the stone floor, he bent his knees and carefully pushed himself upright. His joints cracked and popped, his muscles were stiff and sluggish as he slid one foot forward, and the belt around his waist was far looser than when he’d initially put it on.

Taking another step closer, his mind suddenly dizzied, and his body began to sway dangerously from the juxtaposition of pushing himself forward while he’d been wasting away. He quickly grabbed onto the wall with a sharp gasp, trying to steady himself as his legs tingled themselves awake.

“Loki…are you alright?” the woman murmured, her brow furrowing with concern.

“I’m fine, it’s just - ” Loki sighed heavily, his heart pounding and muscles trembling. “I’m just not used to…standing.”

Loki closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment, willing his body back into operating under his own control. But despite his best efforts, weariness and exhaustion were still permanently at the helm, relentlessly steering him back towards collapsing and passing out again.

“It’s alright. Take your time…”

Loki’s eyes snapped back open, painfully aware that she was still watching him closely, and he did everything he could to both avoid her gaze and her reassurance. Nothing about this was alright, and he could hear his father’s chastising voice from beyond the stars, criticizing him for allowing enervation to consume him - even though that was the only way to keep himself out of trouble.

His eyes flitted across the dungeon cell, feverishly taking in the stone walls and steel bars of the door, then out to the flickering lantern light of the hallway. Loki had never even bothered to take a good look at his coffin before committing to staying in it for all eternity, but from this elevation, he could clearly examine the cuts that made up the large slabs of the walls and floor. Meticulous, flawless, precise - too perfect to have been sliced by hand.

His gaze moved to the cream-colored candlestick suspended within the single lantern in the hallway, evenly melted away and without a single speck of soot upon the glass encasing it. From there, he could make out the grooves carved by the steel bars into the doorway’s arch as it swung open and closed, and the streaked and dark stains, smudged against the grayed and leadened floor, leading from the hallway back into their cell.

The woman’s blood, he assumed, and Loki’s hands clenched into fists. His throat tightened, and the slightest hint of outrage began to reluctantly wake from its slumber.

Forcing the feeling away, Loki finally closed the distance and carefully crouched in front of the woman; only then did he let her be the focus of his attention. Loose and uneven strands of crimson had been pulled free from the long, disheveled braid nestled untidily over her shoulder;her skin was wan and pallid, and her lips were tinted with the faintest hint of blue.

Dried blood had smeared on her ear, her neck, the lengths of her hair and along her cheek. It was everywhere, mixed with the dirt and muck from the floor, coating the corners of her cracked lips and the freckles that dotted her cheekbone. The fact that the blood was dried, meaning the original wound was at the very least no longer actively bleeding, did nothing to make him feel better.

Loki lowered one knee down to the floor, precariously settling his weight onto one ankle, and the woman’s attention was now entirely fixed on her boots. She swallowed nervously, and Loki silently agreed with the sentiment. How long had it been since he’d touched another person? Did he even remember how to be gentle? How to not contaminate?

Moving cautiously, he took a boot into his grasp, threading his fingers between the loops and slowly pulling to loosen its laces. While he worked, he focused on the soft leather: its scent was herbal, earthy, and with just the barest suggestion of sweetness. Intricate designs, swirls and constellations and rays of light emanating from an overly-stylized sun were stitched into the leather, extending from the collar and flowing down way past the ankle.

Soft, pliable and shiny, the leather still showed signs of its latest polish, applied with a healthy dose of high-quality wax, from underneath the layers of grim. The boots had been methodically cared for, regularly and recently, and probably not too long before the woman found herself in custody of the mysterious guards. Loki found himself curious about the circumstances of her capture.

Stained in the same shade of night as the leathers covering her legs, they blended seamlessly together with the rest of her clothing, from the thin stockings on her feet to the chipped lacquer on her fingernails. Everything was the exact same color, save for the thin, flowing emerald tunic that had long since come untucked, and the gem that hung from her neck.

And everything she wore was undoubtedly expensive, most likely customized for this particular owner, and she had obviously not dressed for being locked inside a damp and grimy dungeon. At best, she was prepared for a pleasant walk through the woods on a mildly chilly evening; Loki tried not to think about it too much.

Out of his peripheral vision, Loki could see the woman stealing glances up at him. She watched him carefully, her sea green eyes shifting cautiously between his face, his hands, and the boot he was unlacing - obviously examining and judging the hideous monster whose help she had no choice but to accept.

Loki began to feel self-conscious. There was no doubt that his own appearance wasn’t any better than her own at the moment; in fact, he was sure it was much, much worse. Dark and unkempt curls hung way past his shoulders like sinister snakes. The skin on his hands was sullen and pallor, shifting dangerously close to bluish gray, and he had no idea if his eyes had begun to drift back into their original shade of ruby-red or not. He promised himself that this would be the only time she ever saw his face up close.

When he could no longer justify stalling with the laces, he cleared his throat, and forced his fingers to tap the underside of her leg; a featherlight touch that could have been easily missed if one hadn’t been expecting it. But the woman again mercifully sensed his meaning, and she positioned the appropriate foot for him to slide the boot on.

Too well, Loki noticed, as he pulled the collar up to settle around her calf; she was exceptionally practiced at having others put footwear on her - at tensing the right muscles at just the right moment, and extending the leg with just enough force to seat the foot comfortably against the insole.

“Sorry about this…” she mumbled as Loki pulled the laces tight and began looping them back and forth around the hooks. “Although, this is probably the most exciting thing you’ve done in a while, huh?”

She was trying to lighten the mood, to distract from the previous awkwardness of such close quarters. Loki’s response was flat and measured, his attention focused on tying instead of talking. “Like I said - it’s nothing.”

A nervous silence followed, one that was far more uncomfortable than the awkwardness. Loki hadn’t meant to be so dismissive, and perhaps he’d been far too frigid for someone who was supposed to be helping her. When he finished the final loop, he cleared his throat again and forced himself to look up again.

“Is that…too tight for you?” he murmured softly.

The woman managed a weak smile as she flexed her ankle. “No. It feels fine.”

Loki noted that her pupils dilated ever so slightly when she met his gaze, and he took that as a good sign that her head injury wasn’t a completely serious one. He wasn’t sure why he was noting that, but nonetheless, he had, and he didn’t have the energy to start questioning it. Instead, he busied himself with picking up the other boot and threading his fingers underneath its laces like he’d done with the first.

“Is this all I have left? Just waiting in this cell to die?”

Her voice had taken on a somber, more sorrowful tone now; apparently open anguish was much easier for her than polite small-talk, and if she hadn’t been so exhausted, Loki would have guessed there would have been more than a tear or two accompanying her questions. He wasn’t sure how to answer her; bringing up the fact that the other prisoners before her had never lasted more than a day or two, or the fact that they were never returned once removed from their cells, probably wasn’t going to help her mood very much.

“At least they’re leaving you alone for the most part,” Loki answered, lightly tapping his fingers underneath her other leg for the placement of its boot. “Be thankful for relative peace.”

The woman sighed heavily as she cooperated. “Relative peace. That’s all I have to look forward to?”

“For some, that’s all they’ve ever wanted,” Loki said absentmindedly. “They’d kill for it, and others willingly die in its pursuit…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in troubled concern, and Loki tried to ignore it. He couldn’t understand why he was like this, either speaking too familiarly with the woman, or far too flippantly. He was out of practice when it came to any sort of normal conversation, but he didn’t want to be accustomed to it again. In the end, she was just a temporary distraction, and he wasn’t supposed to even exist at all.

“That’s very enlightened, coming from someone who has nightmares every time he closes his eyes…” the woman replied as he finished tying the laces on the other boot. She flexed that ankle, and then nodded her approval while pulling her knees back against her chest.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he met her gaze once more. Her eyes were wide and open, appearing to be without a single shred of judgment, only empathy. Loki couldn’t help but scrutinize her for that. If she only knew how little he deserved kindness, and he was irritated that she’d noticed how bad his nightmares were at all. He’d rather have not known that his weakness was on complete display, and thus, beyond his complete control.

Slowly pushing himself back up to standing, grateful that the task and its requisite close proximity were finally over, Loki’s fingertips trailed along the cold stone as he backed into the shadows again. But lethargy was creeping back in, along with the ever-present unsettled and restless energy, and when Loki returned to sitting, he wasn’t quite as far into the dark as he had been before.

“You know, it may help your nightmares to talk about them,” the woman suggested cautiously. “Perhaps unburdening yourself a little would be a good thing…”

Loki grimaced. Of all the ways she could have worded it, he wished it hadn’t been in that specific way. As it were, various burdens of all sorts were already going to haunt him until the end of time, it seemed, and he preferred not to be reminded of the purposes initially set upon him by Thanos. And even if he wanted to, where should he begin?

He still didn’t quite understand what exactly had happened to him on Knowhere; that entire year was just a chaotic haze of torture and manipulation, through both physical and psychological means, and it was impossible for him to decipher what was real and what was a lie. Even now, he couldn’t even recall the exact circumstances that led to his descent from the Bifrost and into Thanos’ control.

Sometimes, he could clearly remember the decision to let go of Gungnir and fall into the abyss; other times, he was absolutely convinced that his brother had pushed him in a jealous rage, furious that Loki’s short tenure as King had proved far more successful than any longer one Thor could have ever managed.

Either way, the fall had resulted in him becoming Thanos’ prisoner, and then later, as a member of the Black Order - but only after they’d finally conceded that physical torture was never going to work on the body of a Frost Giant, on an Asgardian prince raised as a warrior, or on a powerful sorcerer who already had extremely complicated feelings about being alive in the first place.

But once they realized that he just wanted somewhere to belong, they finally started to see real progress, and the emotional manipulation that followed was probably more effective than they could have ever hoped for. It was so very easy to muddy the rough waters of Loki’s psyche thanks to the Chitauri Scepter and his tremendous heartbreak - a kind word here, a clever lie there, and nothing but speeches about revenge and betrayals, destinies and purposes, salvation and redemption, and scorned Kings and their disgraced sons.

After Loki had been welcomed into the fold, Thanos explained his need for the Tesseract; if Loki acquired it, then he would be granted an army to help take Midgard by as excessive and violent force as he deemed necessary. The God of Mischief already knew that he wanted to be as destructive as possible - to both completely cripple his brother’s fondness for the pathetic humans, and to show Odin that he would settle for being a terrifying leader if he wasn’t permitted to be a good one.

His idea for retrieving the Tesseract had been a clever one; so clever that Loki wasn’t surprised that Thanos or the Black Order hadn’t ever considered it before. But getting to suggest it meant that his new Master was immediately pleased with his usefulness, something that had rarely happened with his previous keeper, and Loki was so grateful for the opportunity to satisfy.

Out of the six Infinity Stones, the Space Stone was unique in that it could generate massive amounts of self-sustaining energy. Its power signature was incredibly easy to track, and it didn’t take long for Loki to determine the Tesseract’s location inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. Under Fury’s careful and watchful eye, the mortals were studying its capabilities for power production, no doubt to be used in some kind of advanced weapons manufacture instead of something that could actually be used to help mankind.

A stereotypically short-sighted action, one that would soon be their downfall, because none of those weapons would ever be able to stop him from completing his task. Had they realized the stone’s true potential, as Loki had, then perhaps the humans might have fared better during his invasion.

Because he knew something that apparently no one else did, something he now prayed that no one else would ever be able to figure out. Loki was in the unusual position of understanding exactly how the Bifrost had operated, of how it could easily send and receive anything from across the galaxies with frightening and pinpoint accuracy. As a child, he was fascinated by the Bifrost, and more than once Heimdall had to stop him from attempting to disassemble it while searching for the details of its inner workings.

Once informed of her son’s unyielding curiosities, his mother had patiently redirected that energy towards Asgard’s massive libraries. There, he spent many late nights pouring over the texts and histories of the magnificent Bifrost. Once he’d devoured all he could from words, he then spent his time exploring the Realm and looking for means of travel that didn’t involve going to the Bifrost at all.

And thanks to the Mad Titan’s relentless and universal conquest in search of the stones, Loki had access to incalculable amounts of lore, research and history that had been stolen from countless cultures and societies. He spent months buried in books and manuscripts, performing calculations and practicing his seidr, searching desperately for the perfect combination of science and magic to get him what he needed.

All of that, when combined with his extensive knowledge of the Bifrost, allowed Loki to realize that all he needed was a power-source. It must have been fate and its impeccable sense of humor, because the Space Stone could be the engine, and the Tesseract was going to be the gateway - a terrible, incredible bridge between where you were, and where you desperately wanted to be.

For Loki, the Tesseract was going to deliver him to vengeance, respect, authority and glory - in a way that no one would be able to undo once he finally got it. His brother, his father, the entire Nine Realms and beyond, all of them would be powerless to stop him once he figured out how to open the Tesseract’s portal from the other side.

Returning to his research with a new sense of delirium, he gave up on sleep, and food, and his sanity while he searched for the answer. His cheeks became hollow, his eyes were sunken deep into his skull, and his skin grew weak and frail. His nerves were on the verge of total disintegration, his heart ached and his mind was hazy.

His every waking thought was consumed by the Tesseract, and on the rare occasion that he actually passed out, so were his nightmares. He became too lost to even carry on a conversation; all he could manage were grunts and groans and strange approximations of the word “Tesseract”. Every part of himself, anything that had once been Loki, had all but slipped away.

But occasionally, Loki would come back to himself. He would look down at his hands in horror, and he wouldn’t understand where he was or how he got there. While screaming and lashing out, the one called Ebony Maw would preach about balance, about salvation and judgment and how Loki was destined to assist the Great Titan in saving all of life, by ending half of it. He was instructed to be grateful for being allowed to take part in it.

But it didn’t make any sense, and Loki tried so hard to resist, to fight them off, to scramble to the exit and free himself, to warn someone of the terrible thing that was coming. Then, something would happen, something would touch him, and his mind would cloud back over with rage and madness. The dangerous craving for the Tesseract would return tenfold, and then he would be back on task, more eager than ever to please.

After a quick journey through the minds of the men known as Selvig and Barton, Loki finally had everything he needed to complete his sacred mission. The astrophysicist filled in the last remaining gaps about the Tesseract’s functionalities, and the archer revealed information about S.H.I.E.L.D.'s security protocols - how many personnel were on site, what types of weapons they had, where they’d been trained. The details of every file stored on their secret servers, every individual’s personal histories - including that of the beings once considered to join the so-called Avengers, the ones that might be called upon to stop him.

On his first attempt, Loki succeeded in opening the Tesseract’s portal. One moment, he was standing on Thanos’ ship, and the next, he was inside the research facility, shrouded within a haze of smoke and mania. By the third second, he was ferociously attacking, moving and acting without consideration for the stealth or secrecy he’d been trained with as a child. He didn’t even bother dodging the humans’ pathetic projectiles; instead, he focused on murdering the ones he had already deemed useless to his cause, and using the Sceptre to convert the ones that were worthy of it

Nor did he bother mincing words with Fury as the Director stalled for time, not even the ones ripped directly from Ebony Maw’s impassioned and self-important speeches. Loki already knew how unstable the gateway was, and that was by design. During his maniacal studies, he had determined how best to sustain the portal’s opening for safe and easy passage - first, in order to allow entry for the Chitauri forces, and then to facilitate easy travel for Thanos to find the rest of the stones later on.

Loki’s first act of murder had been intentionally not stabilizing the portal as it opened inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility; he had wanted the structure to collapse in a stunning display of destruction. Whether it was to be an ominous warning for what he was about to do, or if it was to serve as a call to action for the only ones who could have prevented him from succeeding, he still wasn’t quite sure.

Either way, he ultimately failed in the only way that had mattered. Loki didn’t achieve vengeance or respect or authority, and there was no victory or glory waiting for him after it was over. The Chitauri Forces were destroyed, the Tesseract was not handed over to Thanos per their agreement, and he’d made a great many vicious and unforgiving enemies that day.

In the end, the only thing waiting for him was a prison cell on Asgard, and all he’d managed to do was to make everything worse.

And presumably, after it was over, Thanos still had access to all of Loki’s research. Losing out on the Tesseract would have infuriated him and the Black Order; a minor inconvenience, sure, but it wouldn’t have hindered their quest in the slightest. Thanos still knew how to use the Tesseract because of him - and more importantly, he understood how to use it in the most destructive way possible. That was completely and entirely Loki’s fault, and he just hoped that Thanos was arrogant enough to keep that information to himself, that no one else would try and fail in the same catastrophic way that Loki had.

Maybe the Tesseract wasn’t meant to be used as a gateway, and in doing so, Loki had ensured that he’d never get what he wanted, and that he’d lose what little he had left. All of that madness and frantic chaos and deliberate carnage had been for absolutely nothing. Maybe the Tesseract was cursed, and maybe, so was he.

Because every single time Loki had come into contact with it, his life had taken a drastic and even more devastating turn for the worse. Attempting to acquire it for Thanos had broken him - mind, body, and soul; fleeing New York with it had landed him in the clutches of the TVA; and apparently, it had been his ultimate destiny to die while trying to keep it from the Mad Titan.

The absolute last thing Loki ever wanted was to be reminded of the Tesseract - more than he wanted silence, or solitude, or to rot. And now this woman wanted to know what his nightmares were about?

Even if he had made it to the prison cell on Asgard, he wasn’t planning to explain himself to anyone. What was he supposed to tell his brother, his mother, his father? That he’d been deceived? Were they going to believe that he’d fallen for someone else’s lies so easily, and without question? That the God of Mischief himself had been tricked, played for a fool and made to be the universe’s largest and most pathetic scapegoat?

No, trying to justify his actions would be a grave disservice to the innocent lives he’d taken, and telling the truth was next to impossible. Even just talking about the betrayal of his family would be too much for him to bear, and that was the only aspect of the entire thing that Loki had never, ever second-guessed.

The woman continued stealing glances in his direction, from just a few feet away now. Still waiting for him to say something, anything, to help keep her mind distracted from her own plights. For the briefest of moments, he actually considered asking if she’d ever heard of the Tesseract, or the Infinity Stones. If she knew who Thanos was, if he’d ever been to this planet before…but as Loki fidgeted with his tie, running his fingers over the frayed and broken seams in the cloth, he knew the answer didn’t matter.

The appropriate time to have asked that question would have been when he’d first arrived, back when the TemPad still had the power to take him some place else if need be. But now the TemPad was dead; he was trapped here, and the longer he could go without hearing about the Tesseract, the better. The longer he could go on in the blissful ignorance of relative peace, and without talking about himself, the easier this would be for everyone.

“How did you wind up here anyway?” He winced as he spoke, hating himself for being more than a little curious about it. “I can’t imagine the guards asking you to come along nicely…”

The woman hesitated for a moment, no doubt replaying the events in her mind and wishing she had done something differently. Her fingers grasped the gem that hung from her neck, and she swallowed hard. “I was…taken from Tessaway, my home, in the middle of the night.”

She paused, her eyes focused on something non-existent in the distance. “I don’t know how they made it past the sentries, but they…managed, somehow. They took me from my bed, while I slept…”

Loki shook his head, trying to appear sympathetic. “You lived in a heavily guarded city. It must be a very dangerous place…”

“Tessaway isn’t a city,” she corrected, furrowing her brow as she looked over at him. “It’s the castle in Fayrest. You know, the capital city…?”

He didn’t know any of that, of course, having never left this cell. The woman looked like she wanted to say more but was afraid to, and he couldn’t help but think about why she had seemed to imply before that no one was going to rescue her. “Wouldn’t someone from the castle have noticed your absence? Surely they have to be looking for you by now…”

“No…” The woman shifted uncomfortably in place, her expression broken and forlorn. “No, I was just a servant. No one important enough to miss…”

Loki had been studying her carefully ever since he’d realized her captors were going to keep her alive for much longer than they had the others. Her movements were elegant and refined, her clothing and jewelry expensive and customized, her speech graceful and enchanting; the kind of charming that could only come from years of practice. He didn’t believe for a second that she was just a servant working in a castle.

But she was also clearly in a tremendous amount of pain, and for whatever reason, was keeping the origins of her birth a secret. Loki wondered what might have happened to him if he had been given that luxury, if he hadn’t been the only one to not know the truth about himself.

“Ah, a servant,” he replied, trying to lighten the mood a little. His unpracticed lips curved into a forced and lazy grin. “That certainly explains why you’re so concerned about my well-being…”

The woman’s eyebrows raised in amusement, and she tilted her head curiously as if taking his comment as a challenge. “What’s the matter? Are you not used to someone worrying about your well-being?”

Loki’s jaw tensed; perhaps he hadn’t been behaving as opaquely as he hoped, and he hated that she could see through him just as well as he could through her. He glanced over, and decided to provoke her right back. “Well, I’m sure they’ll miss you at the castle eventually. Like when there’s pots that need washing, or linens that need changing?”

“Yes, yes, that’s very funny…” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I get it, the thing about servants is that no one knows your name until something you normally do suddenly isn’t being done anymore…”

The woman turned, and she met his gaze with a considering and dissecting one of her own. “Like you - you don’t need anything from me, so why would you ever bother learning my name?”

From just a few feet away, the woman stared deep into his soul, tugging at the strings that still held him upright and all but questioning if they were even necessary. He waited until she looked away to furrow his brow again, because while she was right about him not needing anything from her, she was surely mistaken about the other half of her point.

Because he did actually know her name; it was the first new name he’d learned in such a very long time, and he thought it suited her quite well, all things considered. But he had been trying to avoid acknowledging it, not wanting it to mean something more than what it was.

It was just a name, after all; a series of specific vocalizations designed to get her attention. Saying it out loud didn’t mean that they were friends, or that they were even important to each other. It wouldn’t bind them in any way, or obligate him to care. But if that were true, then why did he have such a problem with saying it?

Loki could feel a nervous energy creeping relentlessly up his spine again. He wished it would stop receding, that it would stay put, because the constant shifting between relaxing and stressing was completely wearing him out. He told himself he just needed to say it out loud and get it over with, before he could start second-guessing and talk himself out of it again - especially now that she had noticed his careful avoidance of her name.

“What kind of servant knows how to fight with a staff anyway?” Loki asked, affecting an innocent and casual tone. “I guess servants named Oliviette do…”

After he answered his own question, Loki looked towards her again, and Oliviette was already smiling back at him; it was a bleary and quiet acknowledgement, but the sentiment was definitely noteworthy. For the first time since they’d met, he could see the dimples in her cheeks, and it was impossible to miss the way her eyes lit up with mirth, or how her lips pursed before she finally responded.

“What? Am I not allowed to have hobbies outside of work?”

Loki struggled to not return her smile. He almost felt a sense of appreciation for her snark and the much-needed diversion from the constant aching in his chest. It was only then that he remembered that this was supposed to be a temporary distraction; he couldn’t afford to spend needless energy that didn’t directly involve finding out why the guards were keeping Oliviette alive for this long.

Keeping a safe distance was paramount, his new glorious purpose. Trust was for children and dogs, wasn’t that how he’d put it to Mobius during their first meeting? As long as he stayed here, keeping himself isolated and protected, then he couldn’t ever be tricked into being someone else’s attack dog ever again. He couldn’t ever hurt anyone again.

Besides, it was highly implausible that her life would end in any way other than tragically. Loki’d already had quite enough of that - and would it be worth getting close to her, even if it didn’t?

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

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tikus-library · 2 months ago

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"The Visiting"

Avengers AU - Chapter 2

Characters: Loki x OC!Julia

Posted: Sept 30th

WARNINGS: ???

A/N: this one is snail updates, so sorry, thank you for those that have stuck around with my inconsistent updates to any of my stories! Yall are the best 🫶 (I really forgot to post here to tumblr)

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

“Is it fun?!”

Loki suppressed his grin entering his room to find her there once again. “Is what fun?” He asked, already knowing to what she referred to as he let out a long sigh. He had donned his best royal garments of course, he was used to the celebrations, yet his mother had machinations against him, keeping him on his feet and on the floor almost all night.

He did not dislike the women, he did not dislike men, the fact of the matter was that they did not hold the same honey colored eyes. Some had the same curls, yet lacked the length, others had the same color yet lacked the chaos and thickness - he had been tempted to reach out and capture her hair in his hand. Curious as to whether it was as soft as it seemed.

“Loki!” She called his name out, mixing it with her laughter, she twirled on her toes, huffing out a breath as she met his gaze, “DANCING!”

He tugged on the cord at his neck, loosening it to shake off his cloak. “Dancing, ahh?” He stepped closer to his bed, dropping the cloak to the floor. He watched as she continued to turn in circles, “what do you think? You were watching me?” he loosened the cuffs at his wrists, clothing loosening as he undressed, relieved as it no longer attempted to strangle him.

She couldn't hide the light blush that dusted her cheeks, “your my favorite to spy on,” she sang with mirth.

Loki paused, “then there are others?”

She faltered in her steps, “yes but…”

“But - ?” He pried, gaze intense as he waited for her answer. She watched other men?

“Well, most have more than three legs, or eight eyes, and they do not hold a conversation very well.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her, “Julia, I thought you might bring up I was the most handsome.”

She stopped dancing and smiled at him, “you don't need me to remind you!”

“Perhaps I do,” he nearly pouted as he stripped off the heavy leathers and stood in front of her in just his undershirt and pants. Her eyes slid down his face to his chest and further before she managed to turn around. A wicked grin slid into place, “I have figured out where you are,” he hummed, setting the fire alight with a wave of his hand, the low light danced over her curves as she stepped towards the large windows of his rooms. He supposed she was giving him privacy, but did he truly want it?

“Have you?”

“A name like yours? Julia Reyes? You must be a Midgardian, I know some there…” he moved closer to her, “you wanted to dance?”

She sneaked a glance at him and satisfied he was dressed appropriately, nodded enthusiastically. “We don't do dances here,” she said, stepping towards him.

“How boring.”

“Did you like them?” She asked, looking up at him as he eased her into quick steps, hand curling on her waist and carefully gripping her hand in his.

She was real, he could find her. It wouldn't be much. “Who?”

Julia snickered at him, “one of those girls? You danced with so many!”

Loki’s face dropped, he sniffed, “not of my choosing, my mother was delegating and I had very little choice. “

“Who can say no to their mom?” She asked with a laugh.

Loki led her through the dance, his rooms quiet except the soft swish of their clothes, her quiet voice and their shared breaths. This was intimate on a different level. “Julia-”

She hushed him and pressed her cheek to his chest, “let me stay here” she whispered, “they're coming.”

Loki's eyes flicked up and he glanced around his rooms. “Who? Who Julia?”

She jerked out of his arms and he rushed forwards to grasp at her, reaching out with his magic, could he hold her here?

“Loki–” She reached out, her fingers grazing his and he was determined to keep her there to wrap her in his arms and hold her.

But he blinked and he was standing alone.

Read On Ao3

#the visiting #loki x ofc #loki odinson

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latent-thoughts · 10 months ago

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Ravished by a God - Chapter 37

ummary: When a God decides to chase you, what do you do?

You’re Tony Stark’s employee, living in the famed Stark Tower. One day, you get cornered by the notorious God of Mischief and have a very revealing experience about your own kinks. Hence begins your clandestine dance with Loki, who is all too keen to claim you as his and show you all the forbidden pleasures he has to offer.

However, your kinky dance with him is not the only concern you have. Something murky is brewing within SHIELD, and Tony Stark specifically wants you to find the root of it. What can a mere human do when caught between superheroes, gods and a deviant government? You’re about to find out.

[WARNING: This work contains NSFW explicit and taboo sexual themes like noncon/dubcon, BDSM, spanking, etc. It is strictly 18+. Reader discretion is advised. Consume your media wisely.]

Pairing: Loki/Reader

The next morning, you woke up to the sensations of intense sexual pleasure (and some soreness too). As you got your bearings, you realized that Loki had insinuated his head between your legs, and his mouth and tongue were working hard on you.

“Oh…” Immediately, your heart stuttered a beat and began to race. “I like this wake up call.”

[READ MORE]

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needmorereading · 1 year ago

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So happy for them 💚💚💚💚💚💚

Therapy Fit for a God

Chapter 31

Loki/OFC Rated E: Trigger Warnings (for previous chapters): Smut, Sex, Oral Sex, Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control, touch starved, drinking, memory loss.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27, Chapter 28, Chapter 29

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty@just-the-hiddles@hopelessromanticspoonie@wine-and-whines@arch-venus25@caffiend-queen@devilish–doll@enchantedbyhiddles@hiddlesholic@i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman@kellatron55@ladyoftheteaandblood@latent-thoughts@yespolkadotkitty @myoxisbroken@nuggsmum@nildespirandum@pedeka@redfoxwritesstuff@sinfully-lustful-darling@vodka-and-some-sass@wrathkitty@kingtwhiddleston@wolfsmom1@poetic-fiasco@shiningloki@dangertoozmanykids101@bookworm-christina@amwolowicz@delightfulheartdream@frostbitten-written@what-a-flammable-heart@tom-hlover@nonsensicalobsessions@myraiswack@loki-yoursaviourishere@ghostypau@ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza@mareebird@colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22@chokemedaddyloki@queenofallhobos@just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10 @justjoanne242 @lovelysizzlingbluebird@lokiprompts@evieplease @bitchassbecky691@georges-left-ear@mischief2sarawr@thedistractedagglomeration

It's back!!! Well, if this isn't the definition of taking too long, I don't know what is. My sincere apologies. It was a long summer. Finally though, I have scratched out some time away with just my hubs and my keyboard, and now that he is in bed I space to write!

It was a relief to Loki that the room he paced back and forth, wearing a proverbial hole in the carpet, was familiar to him. He reminded himself of that fact regularly, in an effort to stave off the worst of the anxiety coursing through him as he waited for his Lady's arrival. No matter what the future held for him from this point forth, at least he knew himself and all that belonged to him, this room included.

Also included, he hoped, was the woman due to arrive at any moment.

It had been a boisterous reunion with when he had finally joined his family where they waited for him to emerge from his procedure. Any event involving Thor was bound to be less than serene, but the nature of his discovery made the atmosphere raucous even by the standards of the Asgardian royal family.

"Brother! I mean Cousin!" Thor had proclaimed, lifting him from his feet in an embrace that had gone near to shattering Loki's rib cage. "Norns take it all, Brother it has always been, and Brother it shall always be!"

"Thank you, Thor," he had wheezed out with the little air left in his lungs.

"I always knew that you and I shared blood. It was as obvious as it is that day turns to night and night to day."

"Yes, our similarities are breathtaking," Loki had replied dryly, doing his best to hide the misty eyed sensation sweeping over him at his brother's declaration. "I am only surprised that the people did not take us for twins."

"Loki, my dear one," Frigga had cut short his sarcasm before Thor had an opportunity to read it and be stung. "Can you ever forgive us for what we have put you through?"

"I have forgave and been forgiven for far worse in my time," Loki had shrugged, accepting a kiss from her on his cheek. "And as it turns out, I was not the only one deceived in this."

"You were not," she had agreed, a spark of anger in her eye that he was grateful was not directed at him.

"So tell me, where is my dearest not-father? I would have thought he would be first to greet me, all eagerness to explain why he was right to keep the true details of my birth from all of us."

"Mother sent him away," Thor's voice had held a note of awe that Loki was completely in agreement with. To his knowledge no one had ever imposed their will upon the great All Father of the Nine Realms.

"Did you?" was all he said aloud as his mind reeled.

"We all needed time to process the truth," Frigga had a voice of vibranium that would have cut through the strongest armor. "It will go easier if we do not have to do so while your father... while Odin spins his version of events. He will be back in time, when we have all had time to consider."

"What have I told you, Thor," Loki had smirked at his brother. "In a battle to the death, I would choose our Mother every time. If, that is, I may still call you mother?"

The hesitation he had felt rocked him tot he very core. Always, Frigga had been the guiding light in his life. Her love may have been flawed, conditional to Odin's laws, but he had always believed in it. Even when he had learned that he was not her son by birth, there had been no other woman to put in her place. Now, now that he had a name and a face to put to the woman who had birthed him, could he still consider Frigga his Mother? Would she want him to?

"Volla may have given you birth," Frigga had said, tears standing in her eyes, "but in all ways that matter, you are my son, Loki. I have always loved you. Knowing that you are the blood of my blood only strengthens that love."

It seemed that there were times when the tears would not be stifled. He had embraced her again, allowing the salt water to flow from his eyes onto her shoulder as he held her to him. It was only as Thor joined them, wrapping them both in his beefy embrace, that he had heard the door to the chamber open and shut and known that Caroline had slipped silently out.

He had wanted to go after her immediately, but an unaccustomed shyness had descended on him. He owed her so much, this tiny but fierce woman of Midgard. Not only was she responsible for this latest revelation of his origin story, but it was due to her that was alive to learn it. Now that he could remember all of the support she had given him over the past weeks, he found himself feeling profoundly unworthy of so steadfast a woman. He needed something to show her that he knew just how lucky he was to have her in his life and in his corner.

"Mother," he had asked, enjoying the sensation of saying it once more without the sarcasm. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Name it, my son. If it is in my power, it is yours."

"Now that is a dangerous statement if ever I heard it," Thor had said with a rumble of laughter, as Loki began to lay out what he wished for.

His mother, as always, had been as good as her word. Loki paused his pacing now to once more needlessly take inventory of his pocket universe, making sure the precious item was safely locked away for the right moment.

A light tap on the door brought him swinging around to stare at it for a moment. An unaccustomed wave of uncertainty threaded down his spine, causing his heart to beat an irregular tattoo. He wanted so much for the next series of minutes to go as he hoped. It had been longer than he could remember, now that he had memories to recall, since he had wanted anything so much.

"Loki, are you in there?" the clear, musical voice called. "Your mother said you wanted to see me."

He realized suddenly that he had stayed rooted to the spot and moved in a dash to cross the room and open the door. He smiled as he saw the small woman standing there, green dress bringing out the color of her eyes and the roses in her lips.

"My darling Caroline," he breathed, calming as his eyes met hers. "To call you lovely would be a drastic understatement. Won't you come in?"

"Of course," she smiled at him. "How are you feeling? You did have quite a morning."

"And you," he replied, ushering her into his space, "have had quite a month. Give or take."

"Fair," she acknowledged with a laugh. "We have both been through quite the wringer lately."

Loki watched her mouth as the corners tilted up and yearned to kiss it. Everything in him was telling him to gather her into his arms and not let her go until she was breathless from his embrace. But he had a question to put to her, and he wanted them both to be clear headed when he did.

"Loki, what is wrong?" she asked him, peering up at him through troubled eyes. "You do remember me, don't you?"

"I remember everything," he said, caress seeping into the words. "I remember your bravery, your strength of will, the way you put your career, your very life on the line to help me, a veritable stranger from an alien race. I remember how right it felt to hold you in my arms, and the passion we discovered together when at last I had you in my bed. Oh, min kajesta, I remember it all."

Her face had turned a beguiling shade of red while he spoke, and he watched as the pupils in her eyes dilated at his words. Once more pull to have her without a moment to loose overtook him. Just speaking her praise out loud had him straining against his leather trousers with desire.

"I am glad," she managed to squeak out, eyes darting down and up again.

Caroline made a move towards him and Loki sprung into action, darting around the table and lifting a bottle of wine to offer her.

"May I pour you a glass, darling? I promise it is not the normal Asgardian vintage, but a perfectly respectable Chateaux Margot from Midgard."

"That would be nice," she sounded confused. "Loki, tell me what is bothering you? I promise, I will accept it, whatever it is."

"Of course you will, sweetheart," he sighed, pouring the wine into two glasses and handing one to her. "Just as you accepted every other facet of my disreputable life."

"Well, I don't so much know if I accept the invasion and all the destruction that went with it," she qualified, "but I do understand the mitigating factors. But please, for the sake of my sanity, tell me what is wrong."

"My darling, since the moment you met me, bound in that cell, your life has been in upheaval. I have torn you away from your work, your friends, your home. Your very life has been threatened on numerous occasions. It cannot have been an easy time for you."

"Not easy, no," she agreed, face scrunching adorably as she considered his words. "But at it was never dull. In all honesty Loki, there were days when I thought I lost you that were horrible. You can ask Tony at some point, or Bruce, I was a basket case. But as long as you were with me, I always believed that things would somehow work out. It was only when you were gone that I was panicked."

"Ah yes, Stark and Banner," he said their names with a grimace. "They are just the problem."

"Why? I thought you and Tony had bonded? And yes, I understand that Bruce might not be your favorite person, given the Hulk smashing, but -"

"You misunderstand me, love," he interrupted her. "I am not disparaging the Midgardian heroes. I will not even say anything against that blind menace who despite his infirmity managed to look inappropriately at you. No, it just that they are, well, heroes. That is what you are used to consorting with, Caro."

"I have not consorted with any of them!"

"I do not mean it in that way," he smiled at her, grateful despite the misunderstanding to hear that she had not been more than a colleague with any of them. "I simply mean that you spent your time on Earth with a certain type of man. The heroic, selfless type to be specific."

"I would hardly call Tony selfless," she scoffed.

"You are deliberately deflecting what I am trying to say," he ground out, frustrated that she was interrupting him. "This is hard for me darling, please let me finish."

"Sorry," she mumbled, face not loosing its impatient look.

"With the caveat that Stark is possibly the only person alive as self interested as I am," he admitted, ceding her the point, "you are part of a team of heroes. Yes, there are times when certain members of that team do things that go against that code of ethics, as when they wanted to execute me without a proper trial, but for the most part, those that you surround yourself with are paragons of humanity, struggling to do what is right and just."

"Alright," she said slowly as he paused. "I might have some issues with parts of what you said, but I will grant you the basic premise. I work with a team of good guys. What is your point?"

"My point, my love, is that I am not a hero. I am a seriously flawed semi-reformed super villain at best."

"Loki," she said, face contorting to hide what looked suspiciously like laughter, "is that what you think?"

"It is the truth."

"Have you not been paying attention?" she asked in frustration, flopping down into one of his chairs and taking a long drink of wine. "Very good by the way. Alright, where to begin... How may times have you saved Thor's life? When you would go on your missions for Asgard before his thwarted coronation?"

"Countless, particularly if you take into account the times I kept him from saying or doing something dramatically stupid."

"And by how many of those missions was Asgard kept safe?"

"All of them, but it is not the same thing."

"Isn't it? You were fighting to protect your home. It is no different from what Tony does on Earth. And when we came up with the plan to retrieve the Mind Stone, the very thing that had caused you so much pain and torture, did you Tony, Thor, and I go alone? No, even though it was not your world that hung in the balance, you put your life on the line, not to mention your sanity, and helped us keep the jewel from falling into unsafe hands. What do you call that?"

"Righting a wrong I myself committed."

"But that's my point!" she insisted, sloshing wine onto the carpet as she gestured for effect. "Everyone commits wrongs. No hero is perfect. Not Matt, not Bruce, certainly not Tony. It doesn't matter if you make mistakes. What matters is that you when you do, you try to make them right. You are a hero, Loki, not because you are perfect, but because you try."

"You don't think I'm perfect?" he asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow that sent a flood of desire through her.

"I plead the fifth," she said, bringing a confused look to his face. "Loki, let me put it this way. You are all the hero I need."

"You are sure?"

"More sure than I have ever been about anything in my life. I love you, Loki."

"Well in that case," Loki took a big breath and reached into his pocket universe, "I would like to offer you this."

With all of his nerves ready to snap, he held out the small golden apple in his hand to her.

***

Caroline had been looking forward to this moment with Loki for what seemed like ages. First she had thought him gone, most likely dead if not dying. Then, just when she had found out that he was alive, his memory was wiped out, taking all of his knowledge of their relationship. She had white knuckled it through the past few days when Loki, lacking his memories, had nonetheless invited intimacies with her, ones she desperately wanted, but felt guilty indulging in with his altered state.

Now, at last, the were both healthy and whole, minds in tact. She wanting nothing in the world but to have a sizable amount of time together, alone.

She had slipped out of the room when Loki had emerged from his procedure and greeted his family. Yes, she had been separated from a fully functional Loki for days, but his separation from his family had been going on for longer. It was important, she thought, to give Loki, Frigga, and Thor a moment to reforge their frayed family bond. Watching all of the love his mother and brother surrounded him with had made Caroline happy, but she still felt as yet a bit of an outsider, not sharing the centuries of history with the three. A quiet exit seemed the most tactful action she could take.

Now at last, it was her turn. Loki had sent her a message asking that she meet him in his rooms. Suppressing a thrill she let her mind wander to why he might want to meet her there. Could it have anything to do with the large, comfy bed that dominated the room? Caroline could only hope.

Her pulse was racing as she knocked on the door. The few doors down from where she herself had been allotted quarters was long enough to amp up her excitement to a fever point.

The Loki who answered the door was not the one she had been expecting. Judging by Loki's actions in all of there previous time together, Caroline would have expected him to pounce on her. They had wasted so much time apart, be it mentally or physically, that even a few moments not in his arms seemed a crime to her. He, on the other hand appeared determined to keep the whole room between them. Why?

She tried to track his thoughts as Loki rambled on, to answer sensibly about all that they had gone through, to defend him against himself, but as he kept talking, her mind was screaming for him to throw her onto the bed that loomed just behind him and ravish her. What was taking him so long?

"You don't think I'm perfect?" Loki asked, seizing on and twisting a comment she had made in the midst of trying to convince him not to belittle himself. His look, cocky and knowing, sent a wave of lust so strong through her that Caroline pressed her thighs together to counter it.

"I plead the fifth," she said, forgetting for a moment that he would have scant knowledge of American legal terms. "Loki, let me put it this way. You are all the hero I need."

"You are sure?" he seemed intent on the point, as though their futures depended on it.

"More sure than I have ever been about anything in my life. I love you, Loki." It really was as simple as that.

"Well in that case, I would like to offer you this."

Caroline didn't know what she had been expecting. Jewelry perhaps? His empty had to pull her close to him? Certainly she had not been expecting a small, perfectly formed golden apple. She could tell from the look on his face that it was important, but she had no idea in what way. Distantly, she thought she might have seen something about an apple in that large encyclopedia she had paged through in his cabin, she couldn't remember what the significance was. She was fairly certain it was nothing to do with the Frost Giant side of his heritage.

"Thank you?" she said uncertainly, reaching for the apple.

"You don't understand, do you?" he guessed, reading her. "Of course not, how could you. Caroline, min kajesta, I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"I want that too, Loki," she said, beaming from the inside.

"No, you misunderstand me, my love," he smiled again, getting down on one knee in front of her chair and caressing the side of her face. "I want to spend not just the rest of your life, the short life of a mortal, with you, but the mine. The lifespan of a God."

"Loki, I am not a God, or a Goddess," she laughed nervously at the very idea.

"To me you are the very definition of Goddess," he told her, eyes brimming with love. "You are wise, gentle, strong, loving, and, to be quite candid, the most desirable creature I have ever met. All you are missing is longevity. And this apple can give it to you."

"What?" she must be hearing him wrong, she thought.

"The Golden Apples of Idun can grant a sort of immortality to any who eat them," he explained quietly. "They can, in short, turn a mortal into a God."

"How many are there?" she asked, stalling for time.

"At the moment? Three. When you have eaten one, there will be two. But fret not, more will grow. I a thousand years or so, another will take this one's place."

"Loki, I can't take that! It is too precious for me."

"The stars are not too precious for you, my dearest love," he told her seriously. "I would steal them all for you."

"Did you steal the apple?" she asked.

"I would have, if I had to, but I did not. Frigga called in a favor from Idun and procured it for me."

"Frigga did that?"

"She did. She loves me, it seems. And she thinks you are good for me. She is right, you are far too good for me, but I intend to have you nonetheless. Will you have me, min kajesta? Will you share this long life we me as we commit mischief across the galaxy? Say yes, love. Please."

"Loki," she said his name like a prayer. "Yes, my love."

#loki/ofc #Loki fanfic #loki laufeyson x ofc #loki odinson x ofc #fluff #fic rec #marvel fanfic

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use-your-telescope · 3 days ago

Text

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 21: The Lie that I'm Fed

Summary: In the aftermath of the Times Square attack, Thor asks Theo to do something that makes her start to question her understanding of her friendship with Loki.

Contents: This entire chapter takes place in a hospital; however, there really isn’t much (if any) blood or gore. There are, however, descriptions of medical equipment, a touch of angst, and some comfort in the mix.

Word Count: 11,572

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist

The Lie That I’m Fed

Song: Down on my Head - Yellowcard

I work all night for one more day That I can say I’m all alone, alone I just need time, and I will say What I believe and I’ll come home, home And all I know…

When Theo promised she’d be back to the ED after the attack, she hadn’t meant for it to be as a patient. However, the moment Theo walked through the door Julie took one look at the blood covered, bruised up Avenger and immediately ordered Theo into the nearest treatment room.

…. Which is how Theo found herself sitting on a stretcher in one of the treatment rooms, trying not to roll her eyes as Julie fussed over her.

At least they set the head of the bed up so she had something to lean on while she waited for Julie to tell Theo what she already knew — that she would be fine. Other than what would turn into an annoying black eye and bruised, throbbing knuckles from the stupid decision to punch someone, Theo had emerged relatively unscathed. The only reason she even agreed to be checked over was because smoke from the explosions meant she might have accidentally exacerbated her asthma.

Well, that and Julie could be a bit scary when she got overprotective.

From where Theo sat, she could easily spot the familiar beige and gray carts filled with medical supplies, the bright red biohazard bin, the steel tray that sat at the ready in case of impromptu surgical procedures. Despite being able to rattle off the contents of every drawer and cabinet in the room, for whatever reason they always seemed a bit foreign when she was in the room as the patient and not the provider.

“So your lungs don’t sound bad at the moment,” Julie concluded, draping her stethoscope around her neck. “However, If you need your rescue inhaler more than twice this week, make sure to get an appointment with your pulmonologist. With the circumstances, it could take a bit of time for an inhalation injury to become apparent.”

“Usually it takes a couple hours for an inhalation injury to show up, Jules, not a couple days,” Theo pointed out. “If you aren’t noticing anything now, I’m sure I’m fine.”

“We don’t know what was in that smoke,” Julie countered, dark eyes trained on Theo. “If there was an irritant that managed to settle in your lungs, it may not trigger symptoms right away. I’d prefer you don’t land your ass in the hospital from a sudden asthma attack or airway inflammation.”

“Is that just because you don’t want to cover any more shifts while everyone’s out next month?” Theo teased, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed and standing up.

“You and I both know that I wouldn’t be covering your shifts—” Julie feigned offense, a radiant grin offsetting the horror in her tone. “I’d find coverage for both of our shifts, because I’d be the one staying with you until you were back on your feet again, even though it means sleeping on a couch.”

History proved that Julie wasn’t exaggerating. During the year they lived together while in their residencies, Theo picked up a nasty case of bronchitis that made her asthma flare. Julie insisted on going with Theo to the doctor; when the doctor decided that Theo needed to be monitored in the hospital, Julie quite literally camped out on the hospital couch for three days, despite Theo’s reassurances that Julie could go home and sleep in her own bed.

“You have a point,” a small, grateful smile curled over Theo’s lips. As much as she hated being in a position where she needed that help, she appreciated having a friend who would show up, no questions asked, and be there for her.

In a lot of ways, Julie and Loki had that in common; when shit hit the fan, they didn’t think twice before they helped her through it.

… Except Loki now thought of Theo as weak and unable to handle her shit.

Ugh.

“Hey, do you know how Loki’s doing?” Theo glanced over Julie’s shoulder and towards the door. “I started treating him in the field and then got pulled away once the medics got to him. Last I saw, he wasn’t in great shape.”

“I’m not sure,” Julie glanced up from her tablet and frowned. “I overheard Helen saying they hadn’t been able to get a hold of Thor. Maybe you could see if they reached him, and if not you could try calling Thor for them? It’d give you a reason to check his chart.”

Theo almost smirked at Julie’s thinly-veiled attempt to circumvent healthcare privacy laws, but the lack of an assurance that Loki was okay dispelled any shred of amusement.

“If you can’t tell me that’s fine,” Theo dryly remarked, “but I’m pretty sure you aren’t supposed to be giving me workarounds to HIPAA.”

“Eh, you have top secret security clearance.” Julie shrugged. “I’m not worried about you abusing access to healthcare records. I know you have to pull them for mission reports anyways.”

“Fair enough.” Theo looked at the door for a second time, shifting her weight back and forth between her feet. “Need me for anything else? Or am I good to go?”

“I don’t need you for anything else, but are we going to talk about that?” Julie pointed at Theo’s right hand, which at that moment Theo covered with an ice pack.

“What about it?”

“You obviously punched someone…” Julie trailed off, grimacing when Theo removed the ice pack, revealing purple splotches already blooming on swollen knuckles. “… or something.”

“Your point?”

“You don’t punch.”

“Yeah I do.”

“No,” Julie saw right through Theo’s attempt to prevent further conversation on what had been an absolute clusterfuck of an evening. “Not unless there’s a damn good reason.”

“I got punched first?” Theo tried, though she knew it wasn’t likely to work.

“No,” Julie quickly shook her head. “You’d have stabbed them.”

“Well,” Theo smirked, “I did that too.”

“So why—“

Theo rolled her eyes and groaned. “Look, I was pissed—“

“—What the hell pissed you off so badly that you punched someone?!”

“I—It’s just—“ the more Theo thought about it, the more annoyed she became. Yes, annoyed by Loki’s assumptions and by Chris’s reckless flaunting of his new relationship, but more at herself. She should have had the self-control to ignore the crowd. She should have practiced restraint when she was attacked, not giving into aggression. She should have stayed close to Loki so she could have taken down that handler and prevented their escape. Then she could have learned who recognized her, and maybe gotten closer to figuring out who the hell knew her secret and why they were coming after her.

“… It’s just what?”

Snapped from her self-deprecation, Theo huffed. “Look, I’m pretty sure I saw Chris standing on the sidelines watching—“

“— You’re kidding—“Julie’s jaw dropped.

“—And he wasn’t alone,” Theo added with a nod. Realistically, Chris and his flavor of the week were the least of Theo’s concerns, but it was better than trying to explain the handler situation, or that things were weird with Loki. The former was a conversation she never wanted to have, and the latter was a conversation that required a girl’s night with wine… lots of wine. “Apparently he has a new girlfriend, or watching a shadow creature attack was enough of a turn on that they couldn’t stop themselves from making out right there and then.”

“Fuck that — I’d be pissed too. But why punch someone?”

“I told you…” Theo rolled her eyes a second time. “I got caught off guard. It was more of a reaction than anything.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” Julie replied with a stern look and a tone that teetered on the edge of scolding. “You know as well as I do that you‘re lucky you didn’t seriously fuck up your hand in the process, and that’s the hand you do everything with.”

“I’m sure I’ll be reminded every time I move it for the next week or two…” Theo drawled, barely biting back a wince as she pressed the ice pack to her injury once more. “Now, can I go?”

I never thought I would wake up in bed Watching the world coming down on my head I’d sleep like a dog if you would never have said This is the world coming down on your head

After a detour to the staff locker room to shower and change into some clean scrubs, Theo sat down at the nursing station computer and pulled Loki’s chart. Reading through the notes, a tenuous relief flowed through her - though Loki had gone into shock, Theo’s healing mitigated the worst of the effects. Sure, he still had to have surgery and would need some time to recover, but it could have been worse.

Still, the thought of someone being powerful enough to injure a god so severely left an unsettling pit in Theo’s stomach. Even worse, that person escaped because Theo couldn’t keep up, leaving nothing but questions and destruction in their wake.

Theo didn’t want to call Thor to tell him bad news, but someone needed to do it. She dialed Thor’s number, wondering with each passing ring if he could even receive phone calls when he wasn’t on Earth.

“Hello?” Right as Theo prepared to get a voicemail greeting, Thor answered.

“Hey Thor, it’s Theo.”

“Lady Theo! I was not expecting your call!” Somehow, even through the phone, Thor’s voice boomed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He must not have noticed that Theo called the emergency number.

“Well,” Theo hesitated, cringing to herself as she took a deep breath. “Not sure if you heard, but earlier today there was a pretty big shadow creature attack on Times Square. Everyone here responded and stopped the attack—” she braced herself for the potential reaction as she continued, “— but Loki was injured in the fighting—”

“—Is he alright?” In the drop of a hat, all of the casual warmth vanished from Thor’s voice, replaced with a desperation and raw fear that twisted Theo’s heart in a knot.

“—Yeah! Loki’s being treated right now—” Theo quickly clarified before Thor could spiral into a full-blown panic. Notifying next of kin about a patient’s condition was never fun, but having to deliver the news to friends was absolutely worse. “He’s currently in surgery, but it’s a pretty routine procedure and he’s being operated on by the best of the best. They’ll take good care of him.”

On the other end of the phone, Thor let out a heavy, nervous sigh. “What sort of wounds did my brother sustain?”

“The wounds requiring surgery are a laceration to the right upper abdomen and a stab wound to his thigh. The abdominal wound was the more serious of the two, but I was able to heal some of that one in the field so it’s not as serious as it originally had been. They’re both deep enough that they need to be stitched up from the inside or they won’t heal properly, which is why he’s in surgery,” Theo said. “He lost a lot of blood, but they’ve already given him additional blood and are prepared to give him more if needed. He also has a concussion and a laceration to his head, but the head laceration was pretty shallow and shouldn’t need any stitches. Otherwise, standard bumps and bruises from fighting.”

“And his recovery time?”

“He’s going to be admitted for at least a few days; all things considered, I’d estimate around a week. Anytime there’s significant blood loss, patients are initially monitored in the ICU in case of any complications. I’m sure the doctors will also want to make sure the wounds heal properly.” Theo continued, cradling the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she glanced around at the bustling unit. “That said, with his enhanced healing he has a pretty quick recovery ahead of him. I’m sure he’ll be back on his feet in no time. I know you’re off-planet right now, but we wanted you to be aware of what’s going on.”

“I thank you for your consideration,” Thor solemnly replied. “We expect to complete our objective within a few hours. I will inform the others that we are to return immediately so that I may be with my brother. The journey will take a couple of days if we do not encounter any difficulties.”

“Sounds good. Is there anyone else I should call and give updates to while you’re gone, or who you think should stay with him, at least until you’re back?” As Theo asked the question, she had already started looking up Val’s phone number in anticipation of Thor’s answer.

“If you could notify the Valkyrie, I would be most grateful. She will ensure matters related to New Asgard are managed accordingly.” Thor let out a tense exhale on the opposite end of the phone. “May I make a request, my lady?”

“Sure,” Theo shrugged, even though Thor couldn’t see her. “What’s up?”

“My brother…” Thor faltered, then drew in an audible breath. “Anytime he does not feel as if he has full control of himself or awareness of his surroundings, he does not react well. With the many medicines that dull the senses and limit consciousness, I am sure you understand how infirmary admissions would be challenging for him. I fear what might happen if he wakes from surgery without a trusted, familiar presence to reassure him of his safety.”

The way Thor prefaced his request opened up a pit of worry in Theo’s stomach. Even if Val picked up the phone right away, the only way she’d make it to New York in time for Loki to get out of surgery would be if Tony sent a quinjet to pick them up; given SHIELD was in rapid response mode after the attack, the odds of getting approved for a non-emergency and non-mission pickup were… well, none.

“You are my brother’s closest friend, and I know without a doubt he trusts you with his life. If there is anyone else who could be there in my stead to provide the reassurance he needs, it would be you. Would you stay with my brother until I return?”

Wait… what?

“You—You want me to stay in the hospital with him until you get back— like, stay overnight with him?” Unsure if she heard him correctly, Theo repeated the request back to Thor.

Closest friend? Since when was she Loki’s closest friend? What about Val? They seemed pretty close, from what Theo could tell. They’d known each other for much longer, and they had been through a lot together. What about Wanda? Or Bruce — sure, there was the whole hulk smash thing, but they both escaped Sakaar together and worked together in establishing New Asgard. Hell, even Bucky or Sam would have made more sense, given the length of time Loki knew each other and from what Theo had observed of their friendships/dynamics in the field.

So why would Theo be the one Thor asked?

“I recognize I am asking much of you, but know it is not a request I make lightly,” Thor implored, “it’s simply — I trust that my brother will recover in body, but I worry for the impact this will have upon his mind and spirit—”

“— Yeah, of course, I’ll stay with him,” Theo quickly promised, still trying to wrap her mind around the rationale. “The request just… it surprised me, that’s all. I’m happy to help out.”

Sure, she was annoyed about the whole assumption thing and she didn’t get why Thor asked her, of all people, but Loki always had her back when she needed him, so the very least she could do was return the favor.

“Thank you, my lady,” Thor sighed, only sounding marginally relieved. “I assure you, I would not ask if I did not believe it to be necessary for my brother’s wellbeing. My gratitude knows no bounds.”

“It’s all good, Thor,” Theo replied. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news — I know it’s not the kind of phone call you want to get. But I promise, he’s got the best of the best taking care of him. Are there any questions I can answer for you at the moment?”

“None at this time, though I imagine I will have additional inquiries soon.”

“Okay, well, feel free to text or call me as questions come up. Otherwise, I’ll call Val to let her know, and I’ll let you know as I have updates, okay?”

“Very well; again, thank you, truly. I am in your debt.”

After ending the call and updating Loki’s records to reflect that Thor had been notified, Theo slouched back in the desk chair as the reality of what she agreed to washed over her.

Two days of staying with Loki, who she was not on the best of terms with at that moment, who may not even want her there… and if Thor was right, who would be very unhappy about being in the hospital.

Theo scrubbed her face with one hand as she tried to convince herself this was a good idea. Loki needed someone to stay with him, and Theo wasn’t about to abandon him; then again, what if he kicked her out? Would he let someone else stay with him — maybe Val, once she got to New York? Or would he refuse to let anyone try and help? What would Theo tell Thor – ‘sorry, your brother actually is pissed at me and kicked me out?’

To make matters worse, she didn’t even know what Thor meant when he said Loki would be “unhappy” about being in the hospital. Did that mean angry? Upset? Scared? Would Loki try to refuse treatment, or use magic when he wasn’t supposed to, or even try to leave before the doctors discharged him? Would he lash out, or try to shut everyone out?

The more she thought about it, the more she considered calling Thor back and asking just what exactly she should be prepared for; however, Thor was technically on a mission, so trying to call him for something that wasn’t an emergency or an update on his brother was likely to get her chewed out by Fury.

As if the universe knew her predicament, her cell phone pinged with a notification from the group chat…

… Maybe the other Avengers could help.

As life flies by, I’m not sure How I’m gonna do this all again, again So line by line, I write this down And I just try to find the end, the end And all I know…

An hour passed from when Theo left the Emergency Department to when she strolled into the waiting room. Unlike the emergency department, which prioritized practicality and utilitarianism over aesthetics in its design, the rest of the hospital — where patients and their families passed through, at least — looked more like they were a part of a luxury hotel.

Of course, since Tony Stark paid for everything, his preferences shined in the design: waiting areas were furnished with minimalistic furniture in muted, yet soothing shades of blues, greens, and grays. The nurses stations featured crisp, white stone countertops with faint gray veins that flowed across the surface. Overhead, modern light fixtures of varying shapes and sizes illuminated every nook and cranny. What appeared to be espresso-stained hardwood floors were actually made of a special antimicrobial, non-slip material — one of the few signs that they were in a hospital.

Theo scanned the groups of seating around the waiting room. According to the group chat most of the team had set up shop together, working on post-attack reports and following up on various leads as they waited for updates on Loki’s surgery. It didn’t take long for her to spot Natasha, who waved as Theo approached.

As expected, Natasha was far from alone: Bucky sat close enough beside her that their shoulders brushed, while Sam sat on Bucky’s other side. Peter had sprawled out on the floor, lanky legs stretched out in front of him with his laptop on his lap. Wanda curled up with Vision on a nearby loveseat, her head resting on his shoulder while he kept a comforting hand on her thigh. Yelena sat with her legs curled underneath her on the chair, holding her phone like she had just been scrolling through TikTok. Shuri sat next to Yelena, using an end table to hold a holographic display as she used her computer to modify what looked like an invention of some kind.

“You know that we’re only going to be here for a few hours, not a few days, right?” Sam arched an eyebrow at the pair of oversized duffel bags Theo carried, practically bursting at the seams from the amount of stuff she shoved inside.

“You’re going to be here for a few hours,” Theo replied, dropping the bag to the floor before taking the nearest open seat, “but I’m probably going to be here for a few days.”

Sam’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why?”

“When I called Thor to let him know what was going on, he asked if I could stay with Loki until he gets back to Earth… which it sounds like will be in two or three days.”

“So Thor asked you to stay with Loki?” Bucky clarified, narrowing his eyes at Theo as if he was looking for something more.

”I think it was one of those things where he was freaking out because he didn’t want his brother to be alone, and since I was the one on the phone at that time, I ended up being the person he asked,” Theo shrugged. “It’s probably a good thing — I can be the point of contact for updates and relaying information back and forth, and I can still work on stuff while I’m there. Besides, with the number of times Loki has dealt with me being a literal shit show, I think I owe him at least a few days of waiting on him hand and foot.”

“Okay, fine, but are we going to talk about how you packed more for three days than most people pack for a month?” Shuri teased, eyeing the bags. “Those are about to burst!”

“In my defense, most of it isn’t for me!” Theo confessed, her cheeks inexplicably burning. “I stopped by Loki’s suite and the gift shop to grab some stuff that I thought he might want or would make him more comfortable and a bit less miserable, at least until Thor gets back.”

“Pretty sure just having you around will make him less miserable,” Natasha wryly pointed out, eyes glittering as she smirked at Theo.

Theo shot Natasha with a skeptical glare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’d gut everyone in this room before he’d admit it,” Yelena replied with an expression identical to Natasha’s; for a lack of shared DNA, they certainly acted like sisters. “But he has a soft spot for you.”

“Yeah,“ Peter chimed in, “You’re definitely his favorite person on the team—“

“Mm,” Theo shook her head, “I’m pretty sure that’s Thor—”

“—Fine, you’re his favorite human on the team,” Natasha replied.

“I think you’re overselling it, but whatever.” Theo rolled her eyes and laughed it off, though her pulse quickened at the thought. First Thor, now the others — was there something that Theo hadn’t noticed? “Soft spot or not, Thor said Loki wouldn’t be happy about being in the hospital, but he didn’t really explain what that meant… any idea about what I should expect?”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in the hospital,” Wanda replied, her expression thoughtful, “but when he gets sick he’s pretty cranky... Like he’s in one of his moods.”

“Okay, so three days of him grouching at me over anything and everything,” Theo nodded. Behind her unfazed expression, she wondered how much worse it would be since they were mid-argument. “Well, it could be worse.”

“At least you’re prepared for him to be grouchy,” Yelena muttered, earning a snort of laughter from Shuri.

“He’ll probably be doped up on pain meds though,” Sam offered, “so he may be too stoned to be cranky.”

“That’ll probably piss him off more,” Bucky quickly shook his head, scowling at Sam. “Losing control of yourself messes with your head, even after you’re back to normal. After what he went through, with Thanos? I bet it stirs up some really messed up emotions. Getting pissed off would be understandable.”

Oh… shit. Theo hadn’t even considered that possibility.

“If you need a break, let me know,” Wanda offered, the gold flecks in her irises catching the light as she gave Theo a small, understanding smile that made Theo wonder if she let her nonplussed demeanor slip. ”I can switch with you for a bit.”

“Thanks — Val’s planning to fly out here tomorrow, so I’m betting she’d also trade out,” Theo said, careful to make sure she didn't show any more signs that there were other reasons to worry. “but it’s good to know I have options.”

Hopefully, though, she wouldn’t need them…

I never thought I would wake up in bed Watching the world coming down on my head I’d sleep like a dog if you would never have said This is the world coming down on your head

Switching roles from doctor to patient was strange, but manageable.

Switching from doctor to support person was much, much harder.

Waiting for updates was perhaps even worse when Theo knew all the possible complications and the worst outcomes, all of which might be happening at that moment and she would be none the wiser. When the estimated time they were supposed to get an update came and went without a word, Theo found herself trying to silence the worried voices in her head as she tried to reassure the others that delays were not in and of themselves cause for concern: more often than not, they stemmed from administrative matters, such as putting in post-op orders for the current patient, or the surgeon may have been on their way to give the update when they were pulled aside to consult on an emergent patient.

The eventual appearance of the receptionist, inviting the group to a nearby conference room and promising the surgeon would be there shortly, either meant the news was bad, or the patient was of a high-enough profile that extra privacy was crucial.

Likely the latter, but that didn’t stop Theo from considering the former as a distinct possibility.

The group had barely settled into the cramped conference room — not meant to hold almost a dozen people — when Dr. Zergaw arrived, closely followed by Helen.

Dr. Zergaw, the surgeon in charge of Loki’s operation, smiled warmly at the group as she greeted them and introduced herself, her deep brown eyes and gentle voice giving no sign of concern. She must have taken time to change out of her surgical attire, wearing a fresh set of green scrubs with a white overcoat that contrasted her ebony hair, which she kept braided back in small, neat rows.

Helen’s presence made sense, as she consulted on any case involving non-human patients; similar to Dr. Zergaw, she lacked any of the tells Theo could expect when bad news was to follow.

Together, the doctors affirmed that everything went well; though Loki would be admitted to the ICU, it was so they could monitor him closely in case of complications related to hypovolemic shock. All-in-all, as long as he took it easy, the road to recovery would be smooth.

Visiting hours had long passed by then, so the rest of the Avengers returned to the residential part of the tower while Dr. Zergaw walked with Theo to Loki’s room. Along the way, the surgeon filled her in on the technical details of the procedure that she wouldn’t typically share with patients or their families. Too much jargon could be intimidating and cause unnecessary worry, but with a fellow doctor it was a chance to nerd out, especially since Loki’s biology differed slightly from operating on a human.

Except… Theo couldn’t help the discomfort that roiled in her stomach as she learned just how narrowly they avoided a much worse outcome. It was one thing to talk shop, but when it was someone she cared about, she almost wished she had remained in the dark.

The late hour meant the halls were quiet as they entered the unit, other than the occasional squeak of nurses’ rubber soled shoes on the floor and the random chime of an IV pump that needed its settings adjusted.

It wasn’t until they were nearly at the end of the hall that Theo could hear anyone speaking.

“Big cough— there you go. You’re okay. Alright, deep breath through your nose…”

Dr. Zergaw’s pace slowed, coming to a stop in front of the last door in the hallway. The metal and glass door hadn’t been completely closed, allowing for parts of the conversation inside to be heard from the hall.

”Can you tell me your name and birthday? … Good, good. Wiggle your toes for me— great. And squeeze my hands… great.”

“He’s inside,” Dr. Zergaw gestured to the door, “sounds like the nurses are in with him now, but you should be able to go in. Let me know if you have questions.”

After thanking the doctor, Theo drew in a deep breath, braced herself for any number of scenarios, and slipped inside. She turned around as she carefully closed the steel-framed door, the latch sliding into place with a muffled click. Her eyes flicked up to the frosted glass inlay, focusing on the individual, almost granular specks worn into the material from the etching process. She released a slow, measured exhale, then spun back around.

The room was far more spacious than the typical hospital room, closer in size and arrangement to a hotel suite or a studio apartment than a hospital room. All it took was a quick glance to know that the same design philosophy found within the waiting areas and public-facing areas of the hospital applied here: minimalist furniture upholstered in soothing blues and greens, white stone countertops, varying light sources that could all be brightened or dimmed as needed, and flourishes of cool-toned woods throughout.

Ahead of Theo, positioned so the head of the bed was against the wall on her right, was Loki’s hospital bed. Flanking each side of the bed was a nurse, too busy tending to Loki to notice Theo’s arrival.

When Theo finally laid eyes on Loki, she froze.

Sure, his complexion no longer rivaled a ghost, but he was still so pale he practically blended into the sheets, except for where he had cuts or bruises that marred his usually pristine skin. Instead of piercing green eyes that noticed every little detail, he looked around from beneath heavy lashes with a cloudy, vacant stare. Somehow, it looked like the hospital bed swallowed him whole.

Eventually, Theo ripped her eyes away from Loki, instead watching the nurses. A copper-haired nurse with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks adjusted the settings and labeling tubes on the dozen IV pumps mounted at the bedside. She barely looked old enough to legally drink, yet moved with such practiced ease and familiarity that she must have been a veteran on the unit.

The other nurse – a short, plump woman with terra-cotta skin and streaks of silver interspersed in her dark hair – focused her attention on Loki. She wore the type of gentle, caring smile that often came with years of experience tending to others; at least the nurses assigned to Loki’s care seemed like they were up to the task.

“... You already had surgery. Everything went really well. We brought you to your room while you were still sleeping,” she explained to Loki in a low, calming voice, resting a comforting hand on his arm. “We’re going to keep a close watch and make sure you’re comfortable while you heal. All you need to do is relax and get some rest, okay?”

Loki’s gaze meandered up to the nurse, staring blankly at her for a few moments before his brows slowly drew together, and he frowned.

“Thor…?” Loki mumbled, voice raspy enough that he winced at the sound. “Where’s… Thor?”

“He’s on his way—“ Theo spoke up, alerting the rest of the room to her presence. The nurses watched Theo approach, both raising a curious brow when they noticed the jam-packed bags that Theo carried. Loki, however, didn’t notice Theo’s presence until she stopped at the foot of the bed. When he finally looked at her, she offered him a small smile, praying that she looked more confident than she felt. “He’s going to be here as soon as he can.”

“… Oh,” Loki diverted his attention, staring down at the blankets; he swallowed thickly, the sharp angle of his jaw shifting as if the movement brought discomfort.

“We’ll take great care of you, your highness,” the nurse who had been adjusting his IVs assured him. “Is there anything we can get you?”

No.” Loki barely shook his head, instead closing his eyes; despite acting like he intended to go back to sleep, the tension in his facial expression remained.

While the nurses raised the bed rails and reminded Loki of the call button, Theo dropped the pair of duffel bags on the couch, then moved an armchair closer to Loki’s bedside and took a seat. She watched the nurses leave, waiting for the click of the door latching shut before she addressed Loki.

“Hey,” Theo took Loki’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. His skin felt like ice to her touch, stirring up dredges of concern from deep within. “You alright?”

“M’m fine.” A strained exhale followed the short, mumbled answer. “How long…?”

“Until Thor gets here?” Theo ventured, her guess affirmed by a listless nod from Loki. “Not totally sure, but I know he is doing everything he can to get here as soon as possible.”

Even with his eyes wrenched shut, the way Loki’s eyelids twitched, along with the smallest glisten near his lashes, caught Theo’s attention.

“—That doesn’t mean he’s unreachable though! He has been texting with me ever since he heard the news, constantly asking for updates. We could try FaceTiming him if you want?”

Loki blinked a few times, eventually looking at Theo with a sort of vacant expression that left Theo questioning if Loki understood what she said…

… Damn, he really wasn’t feeling like himself.

After a few moments of Loki continuing to simply stare, Theo pulled her starkpad from her bag and held it up for Loki to see, hoping that the visual would prompt a response.

Finally, Loki gave a small, yet decisive, nod.

“Great, let me just call…“ With a few quick taps, Theo unlocked the tablet and scrolled through her contacts, eventually locating Thor near the bottom of the list.

Hopefully, with the frequency that Thor had been messaging Theo, he’d see the incoming call and would answer right away. Theo wasn’t sure she was prepared for the alternative.

She pressed the call icon.

“Lady Theo—“ Thor answered part-way through the first ring, his answer unleashing a wave of relief within Theo. “—What news do you bring of my brother?”

At the sound of Thor’s voice, Loki’s face softened and crumpled at the same time. He tried to hide his reaction behind one hand, but it only made the response more obvious. Yet another knot tied itself tighter in Theo’s chest.

“Someone just woke up and asked for you—” Theo explained as she set the tablet on the over-bed table so Loki could easily see Thor, and vice-versa, removing herself from line of sight. “—So I thought we could give you a call and you two could chat.”

“Loki!” Even without seeing Thor’s expression, his relief came through the device clear as day. “How are you feeling?”

“I—“ Loki cut himself off, almost like he wanted to tamp down his honesty. “…Thor.”

An undercurrent of panic flowed through his response.

Thor replied with something in what Theo could only assume was Asgardian, and Loki responded in turn, this time without the previous hesitancy. Between Thor’s hushed, smooth tone and Loki’s hitched breaths and shaky responses, Theo had a pretty good idea of what was going on: Loki was on the verge of an anxiety attack, and Thor was helping him through it. Based on Loki’s physical cues and the change in language, Theo decided the best thing she could do was step back and let them have some privacy.

So, with Loki fully focused on the tablet in front of him, Theo cautiously rose from her seat, crept over to the duffel bags, and began to unpack. Unpacking was the perfect task for the moment: it gave Theo something to focus on that wasn’t the video call, but it kept her close by in case anything came up. Plus, she wouldn’t have to worry about waking up Loki with the sound of opening doors or drawers as she familiarized herself with the room and its amenities.

And, though she wouldn’t admit it, unpacking everything meant no one else could give her a hard time about everything she brought with her. After all, most of it wasn’t even for her, though what she brought was based on her own experience and knowledge of what actually was helpful to have and what was nice in theory, but didn’t really help.

After unzipping the first duffel bag, Theo looked around to get a sense of her storage options. Two seating areas flanked the hospital bed. The couch where Theo had dropped the duffel bags was on one side, accompanied by a coffee table and lightweight armchairs that created a large seating area equipped to host visitors. Theo retrieved the few things she took from Loki’s suite – books he was reading, his starkpad, various charging cords, headphones – and set them on the coffee table for the moment, since the over-bed table was in use.

On the opposite side of the bed, a pair of reclining armchairs sat close enough to converse with a patient, yet out of the path of traffic; the perfect place to stash the collection of bedding Theo picked up at the gift shop, knowing how much they helped make the bed more comfortable. Theo carefully stacked the varying shapes and sizes of pillows on the seat of a recliner, then draped the half-folded fleece blankets across the back. Once Loki felt a bit more calm she’d offer the additional bedding, but if he wanted them before Theo could offer, they’d be easy for her to grab.

Across from the bed, most of the wall was made up of a pair of floor to ceiling pocket doors in a lighter espresso wood; however, the parts that weren’t the doors offered shelves and drawers for storage, and a small workstation with a chair tucked in along the wall.

Guessing that Loki would want to change out of the hospital gown as soon as possible, Theo made sure to purchase a couple sets of pajamas that were easy to change into while allowing easy access to injuries and IV sites. She had debated bringing some from his suite, but the idea of rifling through his closet seemed a bit too invasive; she did, however, double check with FRIDAY to make sure she bought the correct sizes. She also bought a robe and slippers with grippy soles, since they could be used even before ditching the hospital gown.

Theo folded the pajamas and set them on one of the shelves, then repeated the process with the robe. The slippers were placed beside the robe so everything was in one convenient location.

Before she continued, Theo stopped to check out the flat-screen TV mounted in the corner, angled down towards the patient bed. From a quick glance at the mount, it looked like it would be easy to move around; though she didn’t touch it, Theo made a mental note in case they needed to adjust it later.

Theo walked over to the pocket doors, sliding them open to reveal a second seating area with couch and armchairs that matched the furniture in the other half of the room, as well as a dining area that seated up to four people and a kitchenette, complete with sink, mini fridge, electric kettle, and microwave. She thought back to the day Helen and Julie showed her around:

“One of the important aspects of patient-centered care is incorporating friends and family into visits,” Helen had said, opening a similar set of doors to reveal that each room wasn’t just a room, but a suite. “This design allows loved ones to be close by without having to cram into one room. It also gives loved ones a respite, and lets them easily access some basic comforts while navigating a stressful situation.”

Theo had been impressed by the amenities when she first learned about them; now, she was grateful for them. Along with a water bottle for Loki, Theo set her own water bottle on the counter by the sink with plans to fill it up once everything was put away.

All the while, Theo toed the line between eavesdropping and ignorance as best she could. As much as she wanted to allow the brothers some privacy, she also needed to pay attention in case they needed her for something - after all, Thor didn’t need any more reasons to worry about Loki while he was gone, and an inattentive caretaker would certainly be cause for concern.

With most of Loki’s stuff taken care of, she switched to unpacking her own stuff. She set her own books and her laptop next to Loki’s on the coffee table, then ducked around the furniture to plug in the chargers she’d need for her assorted devices. Rather than pull all of her clothes out of the second duffel, Theo stuck the entire thing in the drawer beneath Loki’s pajamas. If she really felt ambitious she could actually take stuff out of the bag later, but for the moment she just wanted her stuff out of the way.

Theo slipped into the bathroom, fully expecting to linger just long enough to drop off the bags of toiletries she retrieved from her go-bag and from Loki’s go-bag, only to be stopped in her tracks by the room before her.

…Not only was the bathroom the nicest hospital bathroom she’d ever seen, it might have been even nicer than her own bathroom.

A large bathtub that looked like it came straight from Architectural Digest stood as the focal point of the room, offering the option of hydrotherapy while cleverly disguising the signs that the tub had been designed for side access and patients with limited mobility. A separate shower stood nearby, sectioned off by a floor-to-ceiling pane of glass. Porcelain, ceramic, and engineered marble finishes in shades of white and soft gray coordinated seamlessly with the matte black faucets, shower head, and grab bars, while espresso wood from the shower bench and a shelving unit by the bathtub gave the room a sleek, spa-like feel.

When Theo finally got herself back together, she plopped both bags of toiletries on the marble counter, tucked away in a back corner so they wouldn’t get in the way or knocked onto the floor.

Just before she left, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused. The tender spot on her cheek had already begun to darken, a patch of indigo rising to the surface of her swollen skin. Good thing she didn’t have any public appearances or photoshoots planned, because that bruise was going to get worse before it got better. Heavy bags sagged beneath her bloodshot eyes. If that was how bad she looked after freshening up, she could only imagine how rough she must have looked before.

The only things left in the remaining duffel bag were Theo’s blanket and pillow, which she had swiped from her own couch. She took the remaining items from the last duffel bag, tucked the empty bag away, and then set about preparing her own spot to sleep.

The couch that Theo initially set the duffel bags on could transform into a bed by moving a couple parts. Behind the couch, a wall of windows extended to the ceiling, framed by two sets of curtains: one set of pale gray sheer drapes, the other made of heavy, sage green velour meant to block out all light. Outside was a clear view of the New York skyline, city lights glistening in the dead of night.

Lacking the patience to properly convert the couch into a bed, Theo simply tossed her pillow on the far end of the couch, then laid out her own blanket across the cushions. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning, but given she wasn’t even sure she would have a chance to sleep, she didn’t fret too much about it.

Just as Theo finished straightening her blanket, the sound of Thor calling her name caught her attention. She turned around to check just in time for Thor to call her name again, prompting Theo to check in on the brothers.

She crept over to the bed, only to find that Loki had dozed off; unsurprising, since the anesthesia was still wearing off and he had some extremely heavy pain meds in his system. Even in his sleep, his brows pinched together and left a small crease on his forehead, and he wore a slight frown. On the tablet screen, Thor peered from side to side as he repeated Theo’s name.

“Hey,“ Theo kept her voice low as she picked up the tablet. She slipped into the other room and cracked the doors so she could converse without disturbing Loki, but also keep an eye on him. “Sorry, I wanted to give you two some privacy, so I was just—“

“—Thank you for calling me—“ Thor began, but faltered. “I— I hesitate to think of what might have transpired had you not.”

“Is he okay?”

“For now…” Through the tablet screen, storms brewed behind Thor’s sapphire eyes. “I suspect you will have a long night ahead.”

That wasn’t promising.

“Can I call you again if—”

“—Of course.” Thor answered with such speed that Theo wondered if they’d been through a situation like this before.

“If I can’t reach you, is there anything I can do to help him feel better?”

Thor let out a trembling breath of his own; he looked at something off-screen, lost in thought. “Our mother — Frigga — when Loki was small, if he fell ill, Frigga was the only one who could console him. In these moments, I try to comfort Loki as Frigga once comforted him. I am nowhere near as successful, unfortunately.” A bittersweet smile appeared. “Alas, you never met her, so I am not sure that my ramblings are of much use.”

“It’s okay,” Theo said, a familiar ache settling within her ribs. “I get it. I miss my family when I don’t feel well, too.”

Thor hummed quietly, nodding to himself.

“She would have liked you—” He remarked, almost absentmindedly. “—Frigga, that is.”

“From what Loki tells me, she sounded like an amazing woman.”

“Indeed…” Thor sighed — a heavy, weary sigh — then brought his focus back to Theo. “Forgive me, my lady. I should let you go.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated on how Loki’s doing, but really— feel free to call or text if you need me or have questions.”

It only took three more assurances that Theo was happy to help and that Thor could contact her any time if he had questions before Theo was able to end the call with Thor and return to her chair beside Loki.

She understood Thor’s anxieties; if Mémère or Max were sick or injured and Theo couldn’t be there, she’d be downright inconsolable. Mémère had been her rock for most of her life, and though she and Max often gave each other headaches, they had been through so much together that not even an apocalypse could tear them apart. For better or worse, they were the family she had left — she lost everyone else.

And though it had been years since they last saw each other, Theo still missed her sister more than anyone else whenever she got sick.

You gave it to me, I remember it read And you’ve got the world coming down on your head There’s nothing to fight for, it’s already dead And this is the world coming down on your head

Nights spent in a hospital were nothing new.

Working in Emergency Medicine, nights were a standard part of the role — just like working holidays, weekends, and any other time any sane person would prefer to be out living their best life. Even in its quietest hour, the ED never offered a truly dull moment; if anything, nights were just as busy as days, if not even more busy.

Nights in the ED weren’t the only nights Theo had spent in the hospital, though. When Katie was born, Theo spent the night with Max and Ellie, coaching Ellie to push and watching her vitals like a hawk. Once, Mémère had to have a small surgery, and Theo spent the entire night trying to keep the stubborn old woman from getting up on her own and setting off the bed alarm. And of course, there were the times Theo’s asthma had gotten the best of her, and Theo spent the night alternating between nebulizers and oxygen, constantly waking herself up with coughing.

All of that to say, Theo was used to nights in the hospital where things weren’t so… quiet.

Outside, the world was asleep; the night seemed never-ending, shadows of skyscrapers outside the window stretching out toward the horizon. But In Loki’s room, time felt suspended. A soft glow emitted from the bedside monitor, matched by the pale moonlight filtering in through the window. The light in the hallway shone beneath the door, accompanied by the occasional nurse's footsteps; however, it did little to illuminate the room.

It wasn’t long after talking to Thor and Theo had returned to her place at Loki’s side that her attention shifted to studying the various devices that Loki was connected to.

Due to the severity of shock and the monitoring required for treatment, Theo was not at all surprised to see the central line in his neck, the collection of catheters trailing from IV pumps beneath the blankets to various parts of his body, and the arterial line in his wrist, which had been splinted to prevent any kinks in the tubing. Nor was she surprised by the clear oxygen cannula running beneath his nose, ECG sensors peeking out from beneath his hospital gown to monitor his heart, or the mountain of blankets covering most of his body, likely fresh from the blanket warmer to counteract the chill that came from spending hours in the operating room.

In a strange way, Theo was almost grateful that she was the one with Loki. Given Thor’s reaction to the phone call and the video chat, seeing Loki in person, with all the tubes and wires, was practically a guarantee that all of New York would be subjected to brutal storms as the God of Thunder veritably freaked out…

Theo, at least, understood the procedures, the diagnostics, the nursing interventions; she did not have fear of the unknown exacerbating her concern for her friend.

… Not that Theo was content to see Loki in such bad shape. Loki was a fucking God; it wasn’t even supposed to be possible for him to be seriously injured. The Loki before Theo was a far cry from the wry, sharp-witted man whose strength carried her through her low moments. It just wasn’t right.

As she ruminated on the circumstances, Theo watched Loki’s face, noting the faint, barely noticeable furrow between his brows. Even in sleep, he seemed like he was carrying something—perhaps the weight of the attack, or the effects of the surgery, or maybe something deeper, something Theo couldn’t understand.

Every so often, Loki’s chest would rise and fall with a deeper breath, his face softening in sleep as if his discomfort slipped away completely. Each time, Theo prayed that peaceful expression would remain, only to be disappointed when the tension returned.

After what felt like both a moment and a lifetime, Loki stirred, a small, soft groan escaping his lips as he shifted under the blankets. Theo leaned forward instinctively, her hand hovering near the side of the bed, ready to adjust the blanket or call for a nurse.

As if Loki sensed Theo’s presence, he tilted his head toward her, brows drawn together as he blinked slowly, trying to shake the hold of unconsciousness.

“Hey,” Theo greeted him with a gentle smile. “How’re you feeling?”

A moment of silence passed before Loki’s attention turned towards Theo; he looked at her through cloudy eyes, though he did look a bit confused.

“Thor…?” Loki mumbled, blearily scanning the room for his brother. “Where’s Thor?”

He didn’t remember.

It was probably the anesthetic still working its way out of his system, but for a moment Theo wondered if his concussion was worse than initially thought.

“He’s on his way – he’s going to be here as soon as he can,” Theo replied, injecting as much comfort into her tone as she could. She slipped both her hands around his closest hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as she softly smiled at him. “How’re you feeling?”

“I—“ Loki frowned at Theo, searching within her eyes with an increasing panic for something unknown. “I— I don’t recall….”

“… What happened?” Theo finished the question for Loki; he replied with a small, hesitant nod. “There was an attack of shadow creatures on Times Square. We stopped it, but you were hurt—“

“—Is Thor alright?” Fear overwhelmed the question; before Theo could stop him, Loki tried to sit up, only to collapse back onto the bed with a sharp groan, eyes wrenched shut and face twisted in distress as he clutched his injured side.

“Whoa whoa — Thor is safe!” Theo blurted out, eyes wide and her own heart racing in her chest. She swooped up from her chair and sat on the edge of the bed, lightly pressing down on Loki’s shoulders with just enough pressure so he’d focus on her without injuring him; she barely bit back the wince from the sudden pressure against her bruised hand.

“Thor—“

“Thor is safe,” Theo repeated firmly, locking eyes with Loki. "He was off-planet when it happened. He’s on his way back and will be here as soon as he can.”

After a beat, Loki relaxed slightly beneath her touch and his breathing calmed. Even though he still looked like he was pretty shaken up, at least he wasn’t about to try and bolt on her.

“You need to take it easy and stay in bed,” Theo continued, “You only got out of surgery a few hours ago; trying to move around too much will only aggravate your injuries.”

“… Why don’t I—”

“—Remember? It’s just the anesthesia from surgery wearing off,” Theo reassured, keeping her concerns about his concussion to herself. The last thing either of them needed was to freak Loki out any further. “It can make you temporarily forget things, but that’s normal; the memories will come back once it’s all out of your system.”

Loki closed his eyes; his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his jaw muscles tensing in anxious restraint.

“Hey,” Theo caught Loki’s attention once more by smoothing back his hair. With her other hand, she pried his non-braced hand away from his side, laying it next and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know it’s a lot to process, but you’re safe, Thor’s safe, and he’s going to be here soon. Until then, I’m going to stay with you, okay?”

Though the fear remained in Loki’s eyes, he let out a trembling breath and weakly nodded.

The sound of the door opening drew both Theo and Loki’s attention, turning towards the entrance just in time for a nurse to walk in. She held a bag filled with clear liquid, labeled with details regarding the contents inside – one of the components Theo recognized as potent pain medicine.

With a final squeeze of Loki’s hand, Theo released her grip and returned to her chair, giving the nurse space to work. Loki watched Theo, his lips pressed into a thin line and brows slightly pinched. If Theo didn’t know better, she’d have thought Loki seemed a bit upset that she let go.

Then again, he wasn’t exactly feeling like himself, so maybe he was upset.

The nurse went through her routine questions while disconnecting an empty fluid bag with an identical label and replacing it with the fresh bag. Loki answered with short, wary replies — a sharp departure from his usual demeanor— but he correctly answered the questions meant to test his cognitive function, so that was a good thing. Once the new bag of fluids had been hooked up, the nurse ensured everything was in its proper place before departing.

Once the door clicked shut, Theo turned back to Loki, who had returned to watching Theo with a guarded, yet dazed expression.

“You alright?”

”M’m quite alright,” Loki’s attempt to feign confidence failed, betrayed by his shaky inhale and quivering lower lip. “Why would I not be?”

“Waking up in the hospital can feel pretty overwhelming for anyone, especially if the person you want to have with you isn’t able to be there.” Theo offered what she hoped was a soft, reassuring smile. “It’s okay if you’re anxious or upset. You don’t have to put on a brave face.”

Loki exhaled sharply. “How long until Thor will be here?” His voice strained at the question, while the muscles in his jaw tensed even further.

“He thinks it’ll be two days before they’re back— But you won’t be alone — I’m going to stay with you until Thor’s back, okay?” She reminded Loki, hoping it would at least placate him for the moment. “Val’s flying out tomorrow morning and should be here in the afternoon as well.”

“Val’s coming?” Despite mumbling, his surprise came through crystal clear.

“Yeah,” Theo rested her other hand atop Loki’s, effectively enveloping his hand within hers. Though his palm had begun to absorb some of her warmth, the back of his hand remained frigid. “We‘ll both be here. And until Thor gets back, we can FaceTime him whenever you want.”

Within the cocoon of Theo’s touch, Loki‘s hand gradually shifted, turning until his fingers could slip themselves between Theo’s. The simple movement seemed like it took all of his effort; his attempt to squeeze Theo’s hand came off as little more than a twitch of his fingers. The tense muscles in his expression softened as his eyes drifted shut, and the rise and fall of his chest began to slow.

Other than the occasional brush of her thumb across the side of his hand, Theo didn’t dare move until she knew Loki was well and truly asleep — he needed the rest in order to heal, and it seemed like he needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t be alone; having the presence of touch went a long way towards giving the comfort it seemed like he needed.

After a few minutes, the tension had evaporated from Loki’s expression; paired with his even, slow breaths, all signs pointed to Loki being well and truly asleep.

By that point, the cold that originally plagued Loki had vanished, replaced by the warmth from Theo’s skin; the thought stirred a certain softness within Theo, bringing a small smile to her face.

She slipped her hands from Loki’s and reached up, lightly caressing his face with the back of her fingers in what was half a gesture of comfort, and half a temperature check; a similar chill lingered, but she could do something about that.

Theo silently rose to her feet. She crept over to the recliner where she set out the extra bedding, retrieving the blanket. As she unfolded the blanket, Theo paused for a moment, rubbing the pad of her thumb along the plush, charcoal-colored material. One side of the blanket was made of velour, while the other side was a thick, shaggy fleece, similar to a faux fur in length but different in texture — it was far softer than any faux fur Theo had seen. The combination gave the blanket a surprising heft to it, which was perfect for staving off any cold or chill.

Spreading the blanket across the bed, Theo remained careful not to wake Loki in the process. She pulled the fabric up around his neck and shoulders so only his head remained visible, then retrieved one of the hospital’s blankets from a nearby drawer and carefully draped it to create a sort of hood around his head.

For good measure, Theo snuck over to the room’s thermostat and cranked up the heat; even if it meant she’d be sweating, it was a small price to pay for Loki’s comfort.

The final product was almost amusing: Loki, so fully tucked in beneath blankets that only his face remained visible amidst a sea of fleece. If someone were to quickly glance at him, they might not see the oxygen tubing that sat beneath his nose, which had become the only visible medical device because of how thoroughly he was covered up. Without being able to see the catheters, bandages, and monitors, he no longer looked like he barely survived; instead, he simply looked exhausted.

With nothing else to do, she slouched back in her chair, idly twirling the end of her braid with one hand as she stared off into nothing. The longer she sat, the harder she fought not to dwell on the glimpses of the handler that did this and then escaped…After all, she could let her imagination run away with possibilities, but nothing her mind could conjure would get her any closer to learning the truth. Besides, the vague familiarities were at best coincidences, and at worst tricks of her mind.

A faint grunt brought Theo back to the present. In his sleep, Loki grimaced, only for it to smooth out a moment later.

Was he in pain, or dreaming?

Theo watched his expression for signs that might point her in one direction or another, but Loki’s stillness made her think that whatever it was, it must have passed.

Left alone with her restless thoughts, Theo only made it a few minutes before she admitted to herself that if didn’t find something to prevent her from overanalyzing every little detail of what transpired, she was going to lose her mind. She needed a distraction.

In the stack of books Theo brought with her, one caught her eye: The Little Prince. A children’s book among high fantasies, dwarfed in size by the other books, and with a light, minimal design on the book’s spine that contrasted the ornate, dark artwork adorning the others, the French novella quite literally stood out in just about every way imaginable…

… And it was just what Theo wanted.

After extracting the text from beneath a stack of Robert Jordan, Brandon Sanderson, and Joe Abercrombie, Theo settled back into her seat, cast a charm to make what essentially was a book light, and opened the book to the first page.

The familiar illustrations of a snake wrapped around a mouse (preparing to swallow it), the outline of the snake that ate an elephant, and the drawing of the elephant inside the snake greeted Theo like an old friend, lamenting the lack of imagination and general disillusionment with adults.

Theo could practically recite the book from memory, having read it countless times throughout her life. Beyond serving as an effective distraction when Theo needed to redirect her thoughts, the book offered enough depth that she still found something new to ponder with each additional readthrough, but wasn’t so heavy that she had to set aside time to read, fully investing her attention and avoiding distractions so she didn’t miss crucial information.

That night, it was exactly what she needed.

When will it all end? When will it all end? One of you moves, the others follow you

Thor’s prediction about a long night did not come to fruition… At least, not because of Loki.

Though Loki woke up a couple more times, it was because a nurse needed to complete a neuro check to make sure his concussion wasn’t worse than they initially believed. Every couple hours, they woke him up long enough to ask a few questions and have him perform a few tasks, but he always fell back asleep immediately after they finished. If he noticed Theo sitting there, he didn’t say or do anything.

Theo, however, remained wide awake the entire night, jumping at every slight rustle of blankets or unexpected noise from Loki, in case it was the start of another panic. Each time the nurses woke Loki, Theo caught herself white-knuckling as she tugged on her braid, bracing for the worst.

In between, Theo’s mind spun with questions about who could have done this to him, troubling her to the extent that even if Loki was perfectly content and doing well, Theo wouldn’t have slept a wink.

Not long after the first signs of dawn crested over the horizon, a text came from Wanda.

“Want coffee or breakfast?”

Theo nearly jumped out of her seat at the vibration of her phone, but the message (and the offer) were a pleasant surprise after a long night. If she had any hope of being productive or useful, she’d certainly need all the caffeine she could get.

A couple hours later, visiting hours began; not even a minute later, Wanda arrived with a giant paper cup labeled ‘shot in the dark’ and a paper bag containing a scone for Theo, and a mug with the words ‘London Fog’ scribbled on the side for herself.

“You look exhausted,” Wanda remarked, handing Theo her drink and the brown paper bag containing the scone. “Did you sleep?”

Theo nearly laughed out loud, but clapped her hand over her mouth before the sound could escape. “That obvious, huh?”

“Explains why you wanted caffeine to go with your caffeine - seriously, drip coffee with multiple shots of espresso added in?” Wanda quietly teased as she set Theo’s unused pillow aside, then settled in on the couch. “Do you hate yourself?”

“It got me through med school and residency, and it’s going to get me through until Thor gets back,” Theo joked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Sleep is for the weak.”

Wanda rolled her eyes. “Did he sleep?” She tilted her head towards Loki, who hadn’t stirred in the thirty minutes since the last neuro check.

Theo sighed. “More than I did, but I don’t know how restful it was. They had to wake him up every couple hours and do tests to make sure his concussion wasn’t worse than initially thought,” she said. “It didn’t help that he couldn’t remember what happened, so there were a couple times where he woke up and freaked out because Thor wasn’t there - we ended up FaceTiming Thor at one point because he was so freaked out. It hit a point where every time they came in to wake him up, I had Thor’s info pulled up in case we needed to call him.”

“…So he kept you awake?”

“I knew that was a possibility when I agreed to be here,” Theo half-heartedly shrugged. “I don’t think I would have slept much anyway, though.”

Wanda frowned. “Why not?”

“A couple things happened yesterday,” Theo stole a glance at Loki, checking to make sure the conversation hadn’t woken him up. “Now’s not the time to talk about it, though”

Wanda’s gaze followed, pausing for a moment when it landed on Loki. She hummed, flecks of gold in her irises glittering as she narrowed her eyes. “Something with…?”

Yes. “Eh…” Theo shook her head. “…More the person who did this to him.”

“It was a handler, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah—“ Theo drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, buying herself a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ve seen plenty of shadow creatures, but I’ve never seen these people. And to have them appear twice in such a short time period…”

“Something bigger is at play,” Wanda concluded.

“Yeah, and if they can do this to a god,” Theo gestured at Loki, who slept like the dead, “what does that mean for the rest of us?”

I never thought I would wake up in bed Watching the world coming down on my head I’d sleep like a dog if you would never have said This is the world coming down on your head I’m not gonna swallow the lie that I’m fed ‘Cause I want the world coming down on my head I’m just gonna find out you’re already dead And I was the world coming down on your head…

——

Author’s note: oh hey, it has been *checks calendar* uh, a lot longer than I initially expected this to take! Thanks for your patience as I’ve continued to plug away on this story amidst a hectic year (for so many reasons). I work on this story pretty much every day, although I am not one to write in order so it’s not always working on the next chapter… All of this to say, even if I vanish for a while, it’s not for lack of inspiration! After three years of these two living rent-free in my head, I think they’re here for good, and I need to finish this story so help me god. It’s just that life is busy and I’m squeezing in writing/making sure plot points line up whenever I can. I also spend more time than I probably should looking for the perfect songs for each chapter, since I want them not only to connect to the scenes themselves, but the larger narrative and have little Easter eggs/hints about what’s to come 😏

I’m not going to put a date on when the next chapter is coming since I think I’ve written and rewritten chunks of it about a dozen times (lol), but it is well underway and you can look forward to both Loki and Theo POV, as well as lots of Loki/Theo interactions (I feel like we haven’t gotten much of those lately, but I promise they’re coming!!).

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts/reactions/comments! If you liked it, I’d appreciate it if you'd reblog and share — I am a small tumblr, so my reach is limited... oh! and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list (since I'm a hilariously inconsistent poster these days)

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siggytumbles · 10 months ago

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!! ISO Loki-fic suggestions !!

Hello friends! I'm desperately craving some Loki x Princess fics (can be Sigyn/OFC/Reader/idc) and struggling to narrow down my Ao3 searches. If anyone has any suggestions, please share!

Some Themes/Tropes I like but aren't required: Arranged marriage, Jotun Loki, childhood friends to lovers, Stangers to friends to lovers, Idiots in love, pinning, slow burn, sexual tension, dirty talk, bonding over magic, equally mischievous MFC, embracing the others culture, world building, warrior-princess vibes, myth loki vibes.

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beanusu · 2 months ago

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word count: 3.4k ← part 2 · part 4 →

In the studio, Loki just finished rehearsal with the director and the actors. He stayed behind, discussing the script with the director, flipping through the pages. As he turned to leave, still talking over his shoulder, he wasn’t looking at what was ahead. Not that it mattered, or so he thought.

Luna, eyes on her phone, was coming into the room, replying to some emails—something about equipment she’d requested for the set they were working on, barely looked up. She wasn’t even thinking about where she was walking, not that she had time to think much these days.

They had encountered each other many times all week, but always with the wrong timing. Or maybe the Norns were pulling some kind of trick on them. First, when Loki was getting his fitting with wardrobe, Luna was brushing past on her way to a tech run. Then again, outside the meeting room, where she had just finished going over sound notes. They were both aware of that, but every time, something would drag them away before they could actually talk.

But this time, right by the door, they collided.

“Sorry,” Loki said immediately, hands instinctively moving to steady her. His eyes flicked down, and there she was, looking back up at him with surprise.

“Mr. Ashford, I—sorry,” Luna said. Her voice had that polite edge, as if she was trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Loki could practically feel himself cringe at the name. How had it come to this, hiding behind this persona? Something about hearing Luna call him that—it stung more than usual. Why did that name even bother him so much today? He hated it. Hated that it wasn’t him. Maybe it was because this was not how he wanted to be, but then the real him–it would’ve scared her, maybe worse. Would she despise him for who he really was?

“Please, just—call me Luke,“ he said, forcing a casual smile.

Luna nodded, her lips curling into a faint smile, almost like she was apologizing again. “Luke,” she said quietly.

That’s better... right?

Something inside Loki ached at hearing it. Why did it still sound wrong? She had no idea who he truly was, and yet... maybe that was the point. She was different.

Loki stared at her for a beat longer than he should have. Her lashes were long, casting soft shadows on her cheeks. There were faint freckles dotted across her nose, so light he almost missed them. And her lips—no, those eyes. Emerald and alive, like gems. Like hers—No. No, don’t go there.

Realizing he was still holding onto her, his hands dropped quickly.

Luna shifted awkwardly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry again,” she said, a little softer this time.

Loki shook his head, jaw tight. “No, it’s fine, really,” He could feel the weight of her eyes, but he couldn’t hold it anymore. His gaze faltered.

As she turned to walk further into the room, he stood there, frozen for a moment. Come on, say something. He used to be good at this, so why was his brain not working now?

“Wait,” he blurted out, then cleared his throat, trying not to sound so desperate. “You’re Luna, right?”

She stopped mid-step, turning her head slowly. “Yeah,” she said, almost curious now.

Great, what now, genius?

“I–uh,” he cleared his throat, “would you...maybe like to grab a coffee with me later?” He cursed himself internally for how awkward that sounded. “I mean, I was hoping to bump into you after the...incident, you know, on the street. I wanted to, uh, make up for it. Are you free?”

Luna blinked. She hadn’t expected that at all. Why was she considering this? She hesitated, glancing down for a second before she looked back at him. “Uh... sure?” she answered quietly, more like a question than an answer. She still didn’t know why she said yes. “But I need to drop something off to the director and talk for a bit. Can you...wait for me? Maybe like ten minutes?”

“Yeah, of course.” Loki nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips, trying to appear casual. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“Okay,” Luna said, glancing at him briefly. “I’ll be quick,” she said, catching the way his smile almost softened for a split second, and his eyes scanned her face like he was looking for something but didn’t quite know what.

Loki watched her go, his thoughts a tangled mess. He should’ve said something more. Something better. Something that didn’t make him sound like an awkward idiot.

Luna was talking to the director, but her mind wasn’t really there. She’d nodded at all the right moments and agreed to something about the technical, but she wasn’t processing much.

Did Loki just... ask me to grab a coffee?

She mentally shook her head. No, no, don't drill into it. It’s just a coffee, two colleagues. Casual. Except he’s not just a guy—he’s the lead actor on this movie. Or, you know, the literal god of mischief. Or one of the most attractive bachelors on this planet.

No big deal, right?

She took a breath, feeling that little knot of nerves settle in her chest, and turned back towards the door. It’s fine. It’s just coffee. Colleagues grab coffee. She tried to reason with herself, but it wasn’t helping. Not when every second of that brief conversation had left her feeling a little... off-balance.

She saw him immediately when she stepped back outside. Leaning against the wall, one hand scrolling through his phone. As if this wasn’t completely surreal.

Her heart skipped, and she hated how predictable that felt. Of course you’re flustered. He’s literally a god. Not just any god, either. He is Loki.

He’s good looking, everyone knows that, no surprises there.

She hesitated for a second before stepping forward, feeling the weight of her own thoughts and a sudden uncertainty. “Luke,” she said softly, trying not to overthink her tone. Just casual. Keep it casual, Luna.

Loki’s head lifted slowly, his eyes meeting hers. For a split second, she thought she saw something flicker behind his gaze, something more than the actor everyone else saw. But it was gone just as fast, replaced by a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but was charming all the same.

“You’re back.” He slipped his phone into his pocket, straightening up from the wall. “I thought you might’ve gotten roped into another meeting,” he teased lightly, like he wasn’t too sure how to carry this either. But it was better than silence.

She chuckled, “Nope, just some quick notes,” she said, her heart doing that stupid flutter again when he turned his full attention on her.

Why is this weird? she thought, mentally rolling her eyes at herself. Just coffee. It’s fine.

“So… are we going to the same coffee place everyone else goes to?” She gestured vaguely toward the direction of the café everyone on set seemed to love.

Loki nodded, “Shall we?”

They walked together, though it was almost unspoken. The street bustled with life as people gathered at the corner, waiting for the light to change. Loki pulled out his sunglasses, slipping them on with the ease of someone used to being watched. Luna tucked her hands into her jacket pockets, trying not to think too hard about how normal this would feel. Just two coworkers grabbing coffee. Simple.

Except it wasn’t.

As they waited, Loki’s phone rang. She could hear it before he even looked down at it, the subtle vibration echoing in her hypersensitive ears. Then she caught the voice, the distinct sound of his manager talking about ads, magazine covers, work stuff. It felt... intrusive, though not intentionally. She couldn’t help it. To everyone else, he probably looked like just another actor handling business, but Luna noticed the slight tension in his posture. The way his fingers ran through his hair told her he wasn’t entirely relaxed.

He muttered something sarcastic—something about how they could at least pick one flattering photo for the cover instead of the usual staged nonsense. Luna smiled a little at the sarcasm. Of course, he’d hate that part of his job.

The light changed, and people began to move, the crowd around them surging forward. Luna hesitated for a second, watching Loki still absorbed in his call, standing still as everyone started crossing. It seemed rude to interrupt, but they were going to get stuck if he didn’t move.

“Uh... Luke?” she tugged gently at his sleeve, giving him a small nudge forward.

Loki looked down at her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He nodded slightly, acknowledging her, but just as they began to step forward, someone in the crowd jolted into Luna. Her balance faltered for a second, but Loki’s hand shot out, catching her by the arm to steady her. “Careful,” he murmured, his voice low, steady.

“Thanks,“ Luna mumbled quietly, trying to hide how much her heart was racing.

His call had finally ended after they were across the street, standing on the other side, where the crowd began to thin. Loki tucked his phone back into his pocket, exhaling as if letting go of whatever tension the call had caused. “Sorry about that,” he said, his tone softer now.

Luna shook her head, waving it off. “It's fine,” she said, offering him a small, understanding smile.

And then there was that quiet again.

Luna decided to break the silence, something inside her pushing her forward. She turned, walking backward now, facing Loki as they moved. “I thought people like you had assistants to fetch coffee for them,” she said, tilting her head with a teasing grin.

Loki raised an eyebrow, but a smile played at the edges of his lips. “You wounded me, Ms Hayes. I’m perfectly capable of fetching my own coffee,”

Luna laughed, light and carefree. That sound—it hit him in a way that he wasn’t ready for. It wasn’t just the laugh, it was the way she laughed. The way it felt... familiar. It echoed something from before, something he hadn’t heard in what felt like lifetimes. Hers.

He shook it off before it could pull him under. “You’re... different,” Loki said, still watching her.

“Different?” She slowed for a second, the confusion clear on her face. “What do you mean?”

Loki nodded, trying to play it off lightly. “You don’t seem to care that I’m... you know, Luke Ashford,” he said, adding a touch of teasing to hide what was lurking just under the surface. “Most people can’t seem to stop themselves from reminding me.”

“Should I care?” Luna shot back, her expression playful but curious.

“No,” Loki said quickly, his voice softening. “I like that you don’t.”

Luna turned back around to face the street ahead, her pace matching his. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think I like this Luke more.” She gestured toward him, “This... less curated version of you.” Her fingers flicked like she was talking about his whole being. She glanced sideways, trying to gauge his reaction, but those sunglasses—his damn sunglasses—made it impossible to read him.

The less curated version. He wasn’t sure how he's supposed to feel about this, was that a compliment or a reminder of the mask he’d been wearing for too long? He wanted to respond, to say something, anything that would keep this easy back-and-forth going, but instead, he just nodded, feeling more exposed than he’d like to admit.

“You like this Luke,” he murmured, almost too quiet for her to hear. But what would you think of the other me? The real one, the one buried under all these layers.

As they walked, Luna’s thoughts drifted. She didn’t even know what she was saying, didn’t understand why she was being so honest with him. The line between Loki and Luke was blurring, faster than she’d expected. He wasn’t the same god from the battle, the one locked in a cage meant to hold the Hulk. This version of him, standing here with her, felt almost... approachable. Maybe too approachable.

Loki could feel the mask slipping, just a little. Around her, it was harder to keep up the act. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was her laugh. Maybe it was that she didn’t treat him like everyone else did. But something in him—something deep—itched to let go of it all. To just be him. But that was dangerous, wasn’t it?

Luna’s hand found the handle as they reached the café. Before pushing it open, she paused, her gaze flicking to the side. A car parked along the street caught her eye. The windows were tinted, but there was definitely someone inside, watching. Her brows furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Loki asked, his voice low, following her gaze. But his eyes didn’t land on anything suspicious. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be seeing.

“Nothing,” Luna muttered, shaking her head. Stop overthinking.

They stepped into the cafe. It was quieter than usual—just a few customers, scattered at different tables, a peaceful kind of quiet. Weird, she thought, but didn’t dwell on it.

Loki broke the silence between them. “What can I get for our sound mixer today?” Luna’s eyes were glued to the display case. “Black coffee, please,” she murmured, distracted by the array of cakes that seemed to be calling her name.

Loki noticed her lingering gaze. A slight smirk tugged at his lips. “Grab us a seat,” he said and turned to the barista, ordering two black coffees and, with a slight smile, a slice of chocolate cake. He knew she didn’t ask for it, but somehow, it felt right.

Luna found a table and sat down, her eyes following Loki as he stood by the counter. He pushed his sunglasses up, his eyes locking with hers for a brief second, but then his focus shifted. His posture tensed, eyes narrowing slightly. Something was off.

Luna felt it too, before she even turned. The shift in the room. A subtle stir. Then she heard it—movement. People were standing, but they weren’t regular customers. The sound of guns being drawn was unmistakable, followed by a voice crackling into an earpiece with protocols that sounded too familiar.

“Target located.”

S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Shit,” Luna muttered under her breath, her pulse quickening. She stood abruptly, moving toward Loki, hoping—no, needing—to stop whatever was about to happen.

But it was already too late.

Loki had conjured his dagger in a flash, the sharp glint appeared in his hand. The baristas screamed and darted to the back, knocking over cups and trays in their escape.

Luna stepped in front of him, her heart pounding. “Loki, don’t. Please, don’t do this..” She realized, too late, she’d called him by his real name. Not Luke. Not Mr. Ashford. Loki. She winced inwardly.

Loki’s eyes flickered with confusion, his grip on the dagger tightening. “You knew?” His voice was steady but laced with suspicion. “Are you with them?” His gaze hardened. “Who are you?”

Before Luna could answer, one of the agents moved closer, gun raised. “Drop your weapon!” His voice boomed, too loud, the sound slicing through Luna’s hyper hearing. She winced, her head snapping to the side, an annoyed sound escaping her lips.

Without thinking, she grabbed the agent’s arm, twisting it sharply until his gun clattered to the floor. The agent yelped, backing off.

“I’m not with them,” she said, turning back to Loki, her voice firm but breathless. “I just... work with sound.”

A voice cut through the tension, calm and familiar. “And she’s also a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

Luna’s eyes widened as Nick Fury emerged from the back of the cafe, arms crossed, as if this whole mess was just another day for him.

“Great,” she muttered, feeling her stomach twist. “Just great.”

Loki’s gaze shifted between them, the dagger still in his grip. “Luke—Loki—no, Your Highness,” she stammered, unsure of what she should even call him anymore. Nothing seemed right. “Look, yes, I was with S.H.I.E.L.D., but I left. I’m not part of this. I didn’t even know about this until—” She glanced nervously at the dagger still in his hand. “I’m not here to hurt you, okay? So, before you decide to stab me, I—”

Loki cut her off, stepping closer, his brow furrowed. “I would never stab you.” His voice was quiet but firm, almost as if the idea offended him. Why would she think that? He had no intention of harming her. Not her. He didn’t know why, but the thought struck something deep in him.

That response caught Luna off guard, the honesty in his voice pulling at something in her chest. She swallowed, trying to steady herself. “I played along because I–I thought you wanted to be Luke Ashford. I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my place to out you. It wasn’t my secret to tell.” She could hear the plea in her own voice, begging him to understand. “Please don’t be mad. Or... or seek revenge, or whatever it is you do.”

Loki’s grip loosened on the dagger as her words sank in. He didn’t like how her voice sounded so uncertain, like she was afraid of what he might do next. He didn’t want that. Not from her. His eyes softened, just a fraction. He wasn’t even sure what to say, caught between his instinct to protect himself and the strange, unshakable feeling of not wanting her to be afraid of him.

His dagger disappeared with a flick of his wrist, but his gaze stayed locked on hers as he took a step closer. “Luna, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, almost as if he was reassuring himself as much as her.

He would never hurt her. Never.

Loki wasn’t entirely sure why he came to that conclusion so quickly. Maybe it was how similar Luna looked to her, or maybe it was the way Luna had just told him everything. The fact that she knew who he really was and yet never tried to take that away. She didn’t push, didn’t expose him. She let him be Luke Ashford, even though she knew he wasn’t.

What does that mean? He thought. His mind spun with too many questions, none of them making sense, yet all of them felt too important to ignore.

Then Thor’s words echoed in his mind, as clear as if his brother was standing beside him. “And what if she’s just... her? Just a woman who looks like someone you lost. What then? Will you still fall in love with her?”

Loki blinked, his chest tightening. Love? Was that it? Had he crossed that bridge without even realizing it? Or was he standing right on the edge of it, about to step into something he couldn’t undo?

His gaze never left hers. Luna’s face, her eyes, everything about her was so painfully familiar, and yet... she wasn’t Eirwen. She was someone else, someone with her own story, her own secrets. But gods, she was pulling him in, making him feel things he wasn’t ready for.

His hand moved before his mind could catch up, raising slowly, fingertips brushing against her cheek. It was the lightest touch, but it sent a ripple through him. He felt her freeze under his touch, her breath hitch just slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

“I must be going crazy,” he muttered under his breath. His thumb traced along her jawline, his voice tinged with disbelief. He was letting his guard down—for what? For someone he barely knew?

← part 2 · part 4 →

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ofasgardandalfheim · 1 month ago

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Loki & The Siren; Chapter Thirteen

The sons of Odin don't know when to keep their mouths shut.

Fic Synopsis:

This is the story about how you met and fell in love with Loki, hundreds of years before the events in Avengers, while his family was visiting Alfheim, where you were a siren.

It is a companion piece to Lightning Over the Sea-Redux to give more insight into your past and relationship with Loki.

18+ only

The heavy wooden doors groan as Thor pushes them open, the thrill of your recent encounter still coursing through his veins. A broad grin stretches across his face, eyes alight with an almost childlike joy.

As he approaches the Warriors Three's table, the sights and sounds of the bustling tavern envelop him. Flickering firelight casts dancing shadows along the rough-hewn walls. The scent of roasting meat and ale fills his nostrils, mingling with the clink of mugs and the din of patrons' chatter.

The familiar faces of his friends turn toward him, surprise quickly giving way to knowing looks and raised eyebrows.

"Thor, what has you in such a jolly mood?" Volstagg's voice rumbles across the hall, his eye glinting with mirth.

Thor's grin widens. "Ah, my friends, I have just had the most incredible time."

Fandral leans forward, eyebrows dancing suggestively. "And what kind of time might that be?"

A hearty chuckle bursts from Thor. "The kind that leaves a man feeling like a god. But that is all I shall say on the matter." He shoots them a conspiratorial wink.

An unspoken exchange passes between the warriors, laden with camaraderie and unvoiced tales. Their mugs clink together in a salute.

"To Thor and his mysterious conquest," Hogun says, a rare grin splitting his stoic features.

"To life and all its pleasures!" Thor joins the toast with gusto before downing his ale in one hearty swallow, washing away any lingering worry.

Sif strides into the room, her presence slicing through the revelry like a knife through silk. Her frown speaks volumes, prompting Thor to offer a greeting, but it falls flat as Sif directs her intense gaze towards Fandral.

Leaning in close, Sif whispers urgently, "Be cautious with Una. Loki's threats are not idle chatter if he finds out."

Fandral blinks rapidly, unable to contain his eagerness. "Wait, what did she do?"

Exasperation seeps into Sif's hushed tones. "Don't pretend you're unaware. Una confessed when I caught her sneaking into the gardens through the secret entrance."

Fandral presses on, scanning Sif's expression. "And did she specifically say she was with me? Or did she imply it to cover her tracks?"

After a momentary pause, Sif concedes reluctantly, "Perhaps you are right." She mutters about faeries' deceitful nature, taking deep swigs of ale.

Meanwhile, anxiety claws at Thor's insides as thoughts race faster than Sleipnir on open terrain. His hand reaches reflexively for another gulp of ale, but his subtlety doesn't escape Sif's observant gaze as she fixates upon something blue amongst his golden locks.

"What is that in your hair, Thor?" Suspicion laces each word.

His fingers encounter soft, damning petals as realization dawns brightly around him. "I-I don't know," he stammers, doing little to convince those who know him better than most. "It must have just fallen in there."

Sif's brow raises in suspicion. "What's going on, Thor?"

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mochie85 · 7 months ago

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House of Cards

These Wicked Games Collections | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You and Loki finally confront each other about your feelings and what went wrong. Suggested Song: "Fantasy" by The Driver Era Word Count: 2.9K Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Warnings: Smut. Dominating/Controlling Loki, Angry sex, rough sex.

Loki’s room was dark and humid. Thick waves of moisture rolled to you from his en suite, bringing with it the scent of his soap and aftershave. He must have taken a shower moments before movie night, you mused to yourself.

As the latch on his door clicked closed, the fireplace roared to life startling you. The heat from the fire only made his scent grow deep and heady. Warm yellow light canvased the room. You followed the flicker of the flames as your eyes took in Loki’s private chambers.

There you were…alone in his room. His sanctuary. A rare opportunity to sneak around and find out more about the intimidating god of mischief. Nothing had changed since that fateful night when you challenged him to Blackjack. That following morning, you were too hurt and busy trying to get out of the mortifying situation you walked yourself into to appreciate anything else.

His desk sat in the middle of the room, facing his bed. A house of cards was meticulously crafted on top— an elaborate pyramid of angles and shapes. Some cards, magically teetering on their corners. You had forgotten your deck that night, in a hurry to leave and lick your wounds from Loki’s casual opinion of your relationship with each other.

You reached out to take one— a discarded card lying on the bottom layer. You focused on the filigree and the cherub on the back cover, greeting you back.

“I thought I told you to wait for me on my bed?” His deep voice froze your movements, squeezing the air from your lungs. You turned quickly to find Loki, already closing the final steps to you.

“Loki, I-” He didn’t let you finish as he seized your lips and invaded your senses once again. His fingers laced themselves in your hair. His other hand pulled your shirt off from behind, popping your buttons, and exposing your breasts that were already spilling over your bra from his groping earlier.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, hoping to melt with him. You needed him closer. You needed his every being to get reacquainted with you. God, it's been so long.

His kiss was never-ending. He didn’t let you catch your breath, stealing your mouth every time you moved to inhale. His lips were so ravenous and demanding that it almost hurt. “…Loki…” you whined.

At long last, his fingers pulled your hair and brought your face up to meet his eyes. “You never do as you’re told, do you, darling? You never listen. Always worried about letting people inside.” His fist in your hair got tighter. His breath was hot and sweet; trying to hold back an emotion you had yet to work out. “Is that why you perfected your poker face? To hide the lies underneath?”

“What lies?!” you asked insulted and slightly afraid. “You lied to me! You used me just to play some game! Toying with me! Just entertainment for the night!” You tried to push him back, but his body was hard and unyielding. You pounded on his chest, trying to get away. But he trapped you in his arms and he wouldn’t let you go.

“You don’t listen! I have already told you, and yet you still pay no heed to my words! Do you even know how the last two weeks have been for me?” he said with a cold glare. “Torture! The moment you walked out of my bed, I started doubting myself. I started doubting you! I never thought you of all people would play me for a game like you do with your cards and tricks.”

He was furious! You had no idea how this would go, where Loki was going with his discourse. You knew Loki would never hurt you intentionally, but the look in his eyes was undoubtedly anger and pain. Not knowing terrified you and it also sent a thrill down your spine.

You had hurt him. You can see that now. He was affected as much as you were that night. You could see it in the unshed glimmer in his eyes. “You do care about me,” you realized.

“And what made you think I didn’t?” he demanded. His hold on you tightened. To be in his arms and to know that he was holding back so much of his godly strength. It hurt to almost breathe in his presence. But that was nothing compared to the guilt you felt inside. It hurt to know that you had assumed the worst of him and failed to communicate what you wanted. That you had missed out on two glorious weeks of being with him.

“You said you liked playing games. The way everything unfolded…I- I didn’t know what to think. I had no idea you even looked at me that way! And in mere hours I was splayed like a toy for you in your bed, Loki! What was I supposed to think?! How was I to know that I wasn’t just another conquest for you? That your confession was true?” you yelled back at him.

“Does this feel untrue to you!” he bucked his hips to yours, pushing you against his desk. You let out a carnal moan as you felt the length of him rub against your awaiting clit- throbbing to feel more of him, to be closer to him. The pyramid shook slightly behind you but remained standing. “Perhaps, you need a little reminder…” he growled as he kissed your lips boldly.

Blurring colors started to form and solidify in your head. Memories took shape as if they were tangible moving pictures.

~Loki growled. His fervor and desire ruling all rational thought. “I love that you’re intelligent,” he said as he flattened out his tongue and lapped the juices flowing from your cunt. “…Loki…” “I love how clever you are.” He said giving your sensitive clit a soft kiss. “I love how you’re willing to play my games.” He laughed as he kissed his way up your stomach. He knelt up on the bed, towering over your lustful figure beneath him. His eyes were wild taking in your heavy breathing, your glowing skin, and how utterly besotted you were when you looked at him. Your eyes were hooded and pleading, missing his tongue. Your mouth was open, ready to beg him to continue. “And by the Norns, you look absolutely sinful laying on my bed the way you are now.” He lined his hard cock at your entrance and slammed his way inside your tight folds.~

You felt him thrust towards your aching cunt, as if he was reliving the memory himself. The heavy force of his illusion pushed you back into reality. The house of cards gave way and fell behind you in one fell swoosh.

“You love me,” you whispered to yourself. Tears brimmed your lids as you looked at the truth in his eyes. The realization was heavy and thick; along with the guilt of invalidating his feelings.

Loki closed his eyes as he leaned in to rest his head on yours. He took a deep breath, relieved you had finally understood what he was trying to convey. Your fingers brushed through his silken hair, pulling him closer. Your lips apologized for you as you assailed his beautiful face with kisses. Softly, one after another. His fervid cheeks. His troubled eyes. His sharp chin. He felt each kiss as a prayer of penance asking for his forgiveness.

Your velvet lips turned into passionate kisses the more you held him. Loki returned your fervor with as much desire, if not more. How long has he waited for this? Dreamt of this? Wondering if he’d ever get the chance to kiss you again like this.

He had already granted you his pardon- earlier tonight when you had confessed that you imagined kissing him instead of Rogers. Perhaps even earlier than that, when you sat down on his lap and acknowledged his presence, finally, after weeks of disaffection. You had his forgiveness, but not his mercy.

“Loki, I need you. Please,” you begged. You started to unbutton his shirt, your fingernails nicking and scratching at his creamy skin in haste. “Make love to me,” you whined, wanting to compensate for lost time.

He licked his lips and savored your words. “Oh no, pet,” he chuckled darkly. “Only good girls get made love to...” Loki pushed your shoulders down, laying you on his desk. Your eyes widened in shock as your hair flowed around you, weaving with the cards of the fallen castle. He pulled your legs forward, bringing your hips flushed with his hard cock. “…Bad girls get fucked!”

You took a sharp intake of air as his words rattled your nerves. You heard the zip of his pants as his hands held you down on his desk. He nudged the wet gusset of your panties aside and guided the tip of his cock at your entrance. You moaned shamelessly when you felt him inside you for the first time in weeks.

He let out a shaky breath as he dragged himself up and down through your wet lips. Slowly teasing you, making you squirm with need. “…please…” you said so quietly you thought it was in your head. “…please, Loki…”

He gave into your cries. Into your begging; and thrust quickly inside you. You let out a vulgar moan at the sheer length of him filling you completely. Your knees squeezed around his hips as you tried to slow his assault. Your nails dug into the soft wood of his desk trying to hold on. “Stop resisting, my love. I thought this was what you wanted?” he grunted.

Your hands gripped his wrist that was holding down your shoulder. He gathered your skirt around your waist and used it as leverage to thrust deeper into you. “Just a little bit deeper…fuck…When I’m…when I’m done with you…I’ll make sure…you can’t walk in the morning…” he vowed. “So, you won’t leave my bed like you did that day.” His rage was palpable and cloying.

“…Loki…” you whined. But that only made him go harder. Faster.

You held the edge of the desk above you, trying to meet his passionate thrust with your own. Strands of your hair fell off to the sides. Your back arched, and you could feel the cards stick to the sweat of your skin.

“You like this, don’t you? Look how wet you are for me.” He watched as your sweet cum coated his shaft, making him groan. You could feel it dripping from you with each hard thrust of his cock. “Do you like it rough?”

“…fuck, Loki…please…”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” His hand moved from your shoulder up to your throat. He grabbed your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, “Next time, I’ll just fuck you in front of the team. So, they can see what a begging mess you become for me.”

And he was right. You are a mess. And you are enjoying this too much. You had always prided yourself in being a tough and independent person. But when it comes to Loki, you didn’t hesitate to be cuffed and barred. You didn’t fight it when he chased you. You wanted him to catch you. You wanted his dominance.

Loki bent to hover over you, pinning your hips down to his hard desk. “You are not to leave me. Ever. Do you understand?” his breath came out labored and grunting. “You can storm out angry. You can yell, scream, and fight. Hell, I prefer it. But you are never to leave without returning and talking about it afterward. Is that clear?” He thrust deep to mark his point. You moaned loudly into the stifling air. Your fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Say it!” he thrust again, demanding an answer.

“yesyesyes…please Loki…I’m a-about to…” you squeezed tighter around him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Come on then. Give it to me.” He demanded in your ear. You wrapped your ankles around his waist, keeping him locked to you. Loki stood back up, taking your wrist ad holding them down against his desk. You were trapped in between his corded arms. All you could see was the beautiful face of a god unraveling above you. His slanted brows and his gritted teeth, his deep voice grunting at the feel of your warmth around him.

You could feel the tight pull of his shaft against your walls when he dragged himself out and plunged back in. “Fuck baby, that’s it. Tighter. Come on.”

Your legs shook and you screamed his name one last time. Your orgasm pulses inside you, making every single part of you sensitive and euphoric. Loki followed soon after. His hips jutted forward with each grunt and spill of his climax inside you.

Loki bent over you again. He caged your head between his arms and kissed you softly on your swollen lips. Your hands roamed his back, feeling his powerful muscles contort and contract as he moaned above you. Your nails would scratch on his smooth skin whenever his cock twitched inside you. “Loki.”

Without breaking your kiss, he scooped you up from his desk and walked over to his bed. “…such a good girl for me, darling…” he whispered on your skin. “…taking me all in like that. Good fucking girl...” Your throat was hoarse and stung too much to answer anything above a sigh. His plush blankets welcomed you as he laid you down on top. “…and do you know what good girls get?”

You bit your lip to stop from giggling. Loki lined himself up with your entrance once again and pushed slowly. Your giggles turned into moans as he continued his rhythmic thrust against your heat.

“Look at me, darling,” he asked so sweetly. Your furrowed eyes caught his. “I love you,” he murmured. “I should’ve said it from the very beginning.” He continued at a tantric pace, keeping his stare at yours. You tightened around him and you got a more genuine feel for him. Every vein, every inch, pulling your moans from your lips and leaving you with nothing but the sensation of his love and adoration for you.

He looked deep into your eyes, and you could tell that he was close again. “I love you too,” you whispered. Loki let go. At the same time, your body releases itself into a climax. One of the strongest, and most powerful, ones you’ve ever felt.

His body sunk on top of yours. He was finally letting go of the weight and worry that he held these past weeks. And you welcomed it by holding him tighter against you.

You woke up the next morning, tender and stinging. The tiniest movement of your hips shot an aching soreness throughout your body. And you smiled. Your mind reeled at the memories of last night. After your shared confessions, Loki took you again in the shower, then on the floor, and then in the shower again. He fucked you in every conceivable space in his room. And then he would make love to every inch of your body afterward.

“Can you walk?” his voice was low and gravelly. The dredges of sleep have yet to release him from their grasp.

“Well, good morning to you too.” You playfully pushed him aside, pretending to be insulted. He laughed as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a morning kiss.

“Good morning, my love…” he said with adoration. “…Can you walk?” he repeated. You rolled your eyes at him, smiling. You knew the answer before you even attempted to sit up and try to get off his bed.

Your hips felt out of place. Your thighs burned and screamed at being used again so soon after last night. And your feet could barely hold you up threatening to slip. “No, I can’t. Are you happy?”

Loki scooped you up making you yelp and grab hold of his shoulders. “Tremendously, so.” He said kissing you heatedly on your lips.

Nat sat in the conference room, reading Tony’s mission briefing from the night before. The rest of the team returned early last night and decided to join in on the movie. No one had noticed that you and Laufeyson were missing until Thor asked where his brother was. “They were both very tired. I think they might’ve gone to bed early,” Nat smirked.

And now, here she was watching the two of you come out of the bedroom hallways. A sudden giggle escapes from your lips. She looked over the paper and witnessed Laufeyson carrying you into the kitchen bridal style. “Put me down! I can walk now you know,” you whispered into his ear.

“Oh, darling. We both know I’m too good for that to wear off so quickly.”

“You pompous ass!”

“Yes, one that has your scratch marks all over it!” He gave you a quick peck on the lips, followed by his signature devious smirk. Loki pulled out one of the chairs and sat down with you on top of his lap.

Oh, this oughta be good! Nat neglected the rest of her work on the table and made her way over to the two of you. Loki had conjured a muffin and some coffee for you. While you sat on his lap feeding him grapes like he was Dionysus himself.

“You know, when I dared you to sit on his lap, I meant for the length of the movie,” Nat said coming up from behind you and sitting across the table. “Not indefinitely.”

“Your lovely friend here has been incapacitated, Agent Romanoff.” Loki smiled, nuzzling his nose against the smell of his shampoo in your hair. “I’m afraid she’ll need assistance from here on out. For the foreseeable future.”

“Stop it!” you chided him.

“Make me,” he teased.

⬅️ Truth or Dare | Hide and Seek (Coming Soon) ➡️

A/N: I guess I wasn't ready to let go of these two yet. This series wasn't supposed to have any major angst or plot. It was just supposed to be a collection of these two characters playing random "adult" games. So, I will try to get back to that thought and update whenever I think of something for them to do 😉.

🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine-blog @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish @capswife @dangertoozmanykids101

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psychospore · 2 years ago

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A Second Chance

This has been sitting in my WIP pile for a while but I've finally finished writing this!

I do hope you enjoy the sequel to In Another Life inspired by @just-someone11 comment

Ok listen i knew it would be angst. I pushed back reading this knowing it would be angst but still :((((((. wonderfully written and if you find the inspiration maybe you could write Loki meeting y/n in the new life? Idk maybe as tom and yn.....oh oh oh or after Loki dies, so more reuniting in the afterlife

If you like more, check out my Masterlist

Summary: An alternate life brings you and Loki together, along with it is the realization that whatever timeline you may be - you are both connected to each other

Warnings: Angst, mentions of death, fluff, multiverse stuff,

You've always hated winter - maybe it's the numbing cold that you had to endure every time you have to go out or the fact that everything around you is devoid of color because of the accumulating snow.

This time around, you despised it because you had to walk home into the blizzard under heavy layers of clothing after covering an extra shift for your co-worker who caught the flu in this weather.

You buried your hands inside the fluffy pockets of your coat and hid your face under your scarf to shield you.

Loki and Thor ran through the snow-covered streets of New York chasing after the remaining HYDRA super soldier that stole a rune dagger made from the stinger of a creature from Jotunheim. The same creature in the stories guards the powerful orb. Both are directly connected to each other and have the ability to link the minds of the person's variants, accessing the past, present, and future of one's self in different multiverses. HYDRA was supposed to use the dagger to learn how to unlock this knowledge on Earth, as everything connected to it has been long lost in Asgard. The soldier was almost successful in getting away after fending off Thor and Loki by spreading nerve gas and creating chaos along the way.

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As you were lost in your thoughts, you noticed people around you starting to scramble and run away. You tried assessing the situation and noticed that a super soldier was headed in your direction. You made sure that the people were safe before stepping in and blocking the super soldier. He triggered an unpleasant piece of memory you tried to bury deep in your subconscious.

He ran straight at you, but you were able to use his momentum to throw him straight to the ground and drop an axe kick to his gut before punching him square in the face for good measure, knocking him senseless with a few broken bones.

Before starting your new life as an EMT in New York, you were secretly trained to become an assassin for years by your HYDRA captors after they discovered you were frozen in a lake in Antarctica. You exhibited great fighting skills, exceeding super soldiers even without using the serum, despite lacking any hint of memory prior to being captured. They tried experimenting on you way too many times to discover what you are or where you're from—the best they could come up with was that you were not from Earth.

You were staring down at the unconscious soldier beneath you when your scarf flew away. You scrambled to catch it, but someone got to it first. You looked at the person, and your heart pounded like a battering ram against your chest. You took the scarf and meekly said thanks, but your eyes were locked against each other.

For years, you were their best hit person, until one night you were tasked with dispatching the scientist who's been taking care of you since you arrived at the facility, as she was discovered to be a spy for SHIELD. In her dying breath, she urged you to discover who you truly were and not what HYDRA just wanted you to be. It made you run away to start a new life and be who you are now. Maybe in this new life, you could save lives instead of taking them away.

"Isn't that…" Thor whispered to Loki.

"Y/N?" Loki said as he looked at you intently, etching your very being in his mind.

"Oh no, I'm not y/n. You must have gotten the wrong person."

Nobody had ever called you y/n before but it felt like it always has when Loki says it. It felt like your name was y/n all this time, despite this being your first time hearing it. Was it even the first time?

You got lost in your thoughts when a familiar, searing heat ran through your back. Thor was quick to disarm the now-conscious soldier when he found out he used the rune dagger to stab you. Loki caught you in his arms before you started convulsing.

Memories of all of yourselves flashed before your eyes—what was, what is, and what will be all flashing before you, even your lost memory. You saw the timeline where both you and Loki died after you tried obtaining the orb by Odin's orders. You saw how you fought and defeated the creature in a different universe, with you dying before Loki could get to you and him dying in grief because of your death, encased in permafrost in Jotunheim.

There was also a brighter alternate reality where Loki was a famous actor going by the name of Tom, and there was you—a young scientist working at his grandfather's company. You caught his eye when he came there for a visit, and everything started when he invited you for a cup of coffee. You ended up marrying him and having a daughter together. It was perfect how you welcome him with a kiss every time he comes home from work and your daughter rushes to be carried in her father's arms.

You saw your own past in this universe before you arrived on Earth, Loki was about to confess his love for you when you arrived from one of your battles, and you were about to too, but Odin did not like that, so before you both could, he sent you away to obtain the orb in exchange for his blessing.

In this timeline, Loki thought you knew about his intention and you decided to run away, so he did not pursue you any further, but the reality was that, instead of facing the creature, Laufey found you first and fought against you. Your prowess and resilience made him admire you as a warrior. Instead of killing you, he ended up wiping all of your memory using the orb and banishing you to Midgard, where you were encased in permafrost, which HYDRA discovered.

It felt like forever processing everything all at once, but Loki held you tightly in his arms to protect you from hurting yourself as tears flooded your eyes. You passed out in his arms shortly after. One thing is for sure, in every timeline - you are connected to Loki by the red string of fate.

"What do you intend to do, brother, with the dagger and with her?" Thor asked, handing him the dagger and glancing at you.

Loki took the dagger and used his seidr to vanish it away. "We need to get to the bottom of this. But for now, I need to protect y/n, more than ever. I can't bear to lose her again, brother. We are bringing her to the tower for now; then we must head to Asgard." He spoke as he looked at you. He tucked in the stray hair covering your face behind your ears to take a closer look—you are indeed his y/n, the love of his life.

There are a million things running through his mind right now, but seeing you, he knew he had found a part of him that he tried to lock away when you were gone, a part that loved you and connected both of you against time, space, and all of the multiverse. He swore secretly to himself that he wouldn't lose you again—not in this timeline at least.

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loki-cees-all · 11 months ago

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Chapter 6 - The Eyes Ease Open, and it's Dark Again {TLTGYA - Post!TVA Loki x OFC Longfic}

Previous Chapter / TLTGYA Masterlist / A03 Link / Next Chapter

Pairing : Post-TVA!Loki x Oliviette (OFC)

Chapter Summary : Oliviette is being taken back to her cell, and she finds out a bit more about the dungeon guards while they bicker with each other. After they’ve gone, Loki and Oliviette do a little bickering of their own.

Chapter W/c : 3.7k words

Chapter Tags / Content : Mentions of blood/injuries, and as always - the angst of it all. And we're finally starting to dive into the mysterious dungeon guards and Oliviette's backstory! Happy reading!

18+ Only - Minors DNI

✦ ─── ⊹ ─── • ° • ─ ☽ ─ • ° • ─── ⊹ ─── ✦

Hues of white and yellow flashed on the inside of Oliviette’s eyelids, barely conscious as she was dragged slowly across the stone. Every muscle tensed in anticipation of further injury, every rough surface scratched the bare skin on her arms, every vessel and artery throbbed as blood rushed to her wounds. Her body hung limp as she was pulled along, and her mind reeled as it tried to cling to consciousness.

“This is a mistake. We should be taking her to the Apotheosis and be done with her - not back to her cell where she’ll just escape again!”

“You heard what Caden said. He wants to present this one to Anathema when she finally arrives…”

That name was like a shock to Oliviette’s senses, instantly waking her up, turning her stomach and sending chills down her spine. She swallowed back a groan as her heavy eyelids heavily struggled to remain open; but even the faltering lantern light of the dungeon too much, and her weary pupils struggled to properly dilate.

Oliviette closed her eyes again, and she focused her efforts on listening instead. The heels of her boots scraped along the stone. The voices above her were callous and inconsiderate, as cold as the draft creeping into the dungeon and pricking maliciously at her skin. The collar of her tunic scrunched under the hands of her captors as they dragged her along; mercifully, they hadn’t noticed her waking up, allowing Oliviette to hear them speaking freely for the very first time.

“Rüzdæts. Anathema’s not coming,” the female voice snapped, her tone heavy with disdain and mockery. “Caden’s been promising that for weeks now, and what do we have to show for it?”

The male voice chuckled, the sound almost a sneer as it left his lips. “Mind your tone, Maxine. You’re already on thin ice with Caden; best not let him hear you defaming our Queen…”

Oliviette’s blood ran cold; they clearly weren’t referring to the beautiful and benevolent Gloustanian Queen - she had died twenty-five years earlier, and had never been officially replaced. This group, whomever they were, had installed their own nefarious one to follow.

“Our Queen…” Maxine scoffed as the pair lazily turned the corner, sending Oliviette’s damaged shoulder colliding with the wall. Tears stung her eyes, and pain radiated across her nerves in a searing crawl. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, drawing blood and stifled gasps instead.

“We don’t even know if Anathema is real! No one’s ever seen her! She could just be a story - a chǐsh!”

Without warning, Oliviette was dropped to the ground just before the sounds of a scuffle rustled overhead. She imagined the male guard grabbing Maxine and pushing her violently against the wall and Maxine struggling to free herself; apparently the group that stole her was plagued by profound infighting.

“Our Queen, Anathema, has bestowed her blessing upon Caden - and by extension, all of us,” the male guard hissed. “I suggest you temper your hostility towards Caden, before you find yourself at the mercy of the Apotheosis.”

“Remove your grimy hands from me, Nulan, or I promise I’ll remove them for you!” Maxine growled, her words dripping with a violence she was desperate to inflict.

A tense silence descended upon the corridor, and Olivette lay unmoving and blind on the floor, waiting to hear if a fight would break out between the pair. The news of the group’s splintered aspirations was like music to her ears - if only Oliviette wasn’t weakened even more than ever now, she might have been able to do something useful with it.

But as it was, she didn’t even know if she had the energy to crawl away if the guards did begin to fight, let alone try to find her way out of the dungeon a second time.

“Unlock the cell,” Nulan finally ordered, releasing Maxine with another push into the wall. “And if you cannot temper it, then channel that hostility into searching her for any more weapons…instead of into this petty - ”

“Oh, do not say fitmǐ!” the woman hissed as the jangling of keys echoed against the stone. Oliviette simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief and tensed in fear - reluctant to return to the cell again, but grateful she wasn’t being taken someplace even worse.

“ - insecure, childish and useless jealousy…simply because you cannot compare to our Queen…” Nulan continued, almost gleefully.

“This is not fitmǐ! I am not - ” Maxine groaned as she unlocked the cell and then crouched down to search Oliviette, rolling her back and forth without a single morsel of tenderness or respect to her injuries, pulling on each layer and rifling through her pockets.

“Did you search her body after she was knocked unconscious?”

Oliviette struggled to remain quiet during every push and pull of her weakened form. She wondered if Loki was still in their cell - hiding in the dark, watching this scene unfold, letting it happen to her. How imprudent she was to think she could ever trust him.

“You know I couldn’t - ” she answered through gritted teeth, rolling Oliviette on to her back and tearing the belt from her waist.

Loki could probably see it better from his vantage point in the shadows, and if he wasn’t willing to stop it, then ideally he’d at least describe it to her later.

“And why is that?”

Oliviette didn’t know much about Loki, but she did know that he more than likely wouldn’t even be that considerate.

“Because she - ” Maxine yanked the leather boots from Oliviette’s feet, her cold fingers indelicately clawing at her socks and ankles.

Oliviette stifled a whimper, and moments later, two thuds echoed off in the distance, presumably from Maxine tossing her boots away - and most likely not into the cell. “ - because she knocked me out first!”

“Oh, that’s right,” Nulan chuckled cruelly while a hand grabbed the back of Oliviette’s collar again. “Because you let your guard down while you were…what were you doing anyway? Lurking outside Caden’s chambers again, perhaps?”

Maxine growled as she began to drag Oliviette behind her again, even less considerately than before, and all but tossed her into the middle of the cell. Oliviette landed on her side, choking back coughs and groans as she tried not to squirm on the floor. The familiar stench of musk and rusted metal invaded her senses, leading to new tears rolling down her cheeks.

“This is her last chance, Nulan. If she breaks out of here again…” Maxine hissed as she stormed out of the cell.

The barred door slammed shut behind her with a violent crash. “Then I’ll kill her before Anathema even sets foot in this dungeon…”

Nulan didn’t skip a beat, honing in on her perceived weakness like a wolf stalking its prey. “And what exactly are you going to do from on your knees in Caden’s chambers, hmm?”

“I can do two things at once, unlike the rest of you…” Maxine snapped as she rammed the bolt back into its lock, the sound ringing out like an omen of doom.

Oliviette’s eyelids slowly fluttered open, and she struggled to focus on the blurred forms of the guards as they turned to leave. The walls started to close in, and sheer panic lurched in her chest. She was trapped again.

“And you should probably make at least one of those things - ”

“Oh, would you just shut up?!”

“Wait - please…” Oliviette hadn’t meant to say it; it was just an uncontrollable machination of her own desperation. She almost didn’t even recognize the sound of her voice, so small and so frightened, and so unsure of what was to become of her.

The atmosphere of the dungeon instantly changed, shifting from ebullient chaos to refined malevolence. Oliviette’s heart stopped in her chest as the pair simultaneously stopped bickering and went absolutely silent - the kind of quiet that always gave way to something catastrophic.

There wasn’t much she could make out, and her mind splashed in her skull as she tried to push herself upright. But Maxine and Nulan appeared to be standing at attention, one wearing a mask of turquoise and the other wearing one of ruby, both of them turning their gaze upon Oliviette and eyeing her viscously from the other side of the steel bars.

“Please…just let me go. I promise I won’t make trouble…” Oliviette begged through shaky exhales. She knew it wouldn’t matter, but what other option did she have?

The guards merely tilted their heads in unison, as if to make a silent mockery of her plea. They moved in sync, matching in every single way except for the masks that concealed their faces, their feet facing forward arms hanging loosely by their sides. Oliviette had no idea which was which, and she began to question the severity of their earlier bickering; apparently petty squabbles no longer mattered when there was a prisoner to terrify.

A chill slithered down Oliviette’s spine, turning down and coating each and every possible nerve ending in damnation. And without speaking, the guards stepped backwards down the hall together, maintaining their sinister eye contact until they turned the corner and finally disappeared from view.

Oliviette let out a shuddering whimper after they were gone, and her head hung so low. It was exhausting, trying to exist like this, and Oliviette didn’t know if she should even continue trying. Every inch of her burned and ached, and her body felt so heavy with despair as she tried to crawl away from the center of the cell. She didn’t even have the energy to hold back the tears that fell as her back finally found the wall again.

The wall of this specific dungeon cell - the one Tereth kept bringing her back to.

Oliviette brought her knees closer, once again cradling her damaged arm between her thighs and her chest, curling into herself in an attempt to keep warm. Most of her protective clothing was now either missing or severely damaged - she couldn’t tell if her boots had landed in the cell or not after being tossed carelessly by Maxine.

Her wool socks, dampened by the dungeon floor, just made the cold air that much worse, but she didn’t have the strength to take them off. Her cloak had been left behind where they’d found her upstairs, and no doubt one of the other guards had already stolen it for themselves.

She never found her staff, and now she didn’t even have her dagger. All she’d accomplished in the past few hours was to make everything worse for herself. If this were a story she was reading, she’d truly be impressed by the severity of these failures.

“So you are alive.”

Loki’s voice was low and flat, but it startled her all the same. The anxiety that flooded her system soon gave way to anger; he’d been there that entire time after all - and he’d done nothing to help her.

"No thanks to you," Oliviette snapped without lifting her head. She knew there was nothing to see, that he preferred to deliver his sarcasm from the shadows.

He didn’t respond, and she found that even more infuriating. But the walls of stone and steel were doing an excellent job of numbing her emotions, standing tall and strong and unyielding against the will of someone far too weak to do anything about it.

None of this was fair or justified. She’d wanted to be on her own for the first time, yes, but not like this.

“Did you even notice the door?” Oliviette felt like a child asking that question, so small and so scared, but she desperately didn’t want to descend back into silence.

“What about it?”

Oliviette sighed and lifted her head, searching for Loki in the dark. “I left it unlocked for you. So you could leave, if you wanted to…but you didn’t even look at the door, did you?”

Loki didn’t answer her, because of course he didn’t; dread and hopelessness were the only things Oliviette had to keep her company anymore. It probably never even occurred to him that escape could be an option - and if the guards ever ordered him to get out, even then he still probably wouldn’t leave.

Olivette turned away from him and pulled the charm on her necklace between her fingers, tracing over the sapphire crystal wrapped in gold wire and becoming lost in her thoughts and regrets. Only Tereth knew why she kept getting pulled back into this dungeon cell, and perhaps she wouldn’t be allowed to escape until she figured out the reason.

But was she being punished for simply leaving the castle? Was she being punished for her father’s lack of faith? What exactly was she expected to learn from all of this?

Oliviette’s people had never considered the God of Knowing to be a malicious god. None of their gods were - a people of peace have no need for a deity who thrived on vengeance and anger. No, Tereth was born alongside the Aethalium, at the beginning of time and in a fantastical wave of ocean-blue light and illuminating power. Those two were among the first things to ever exist, and they would be the last ones to ever die.

Tereth provided guidance, not malfeasance. Tereth knew what you needed before you did, and the Aethalium had the wisdom to either bring it to you, or you to it. Together, they knew everything, while Oliviette knew nothing, and that was the point of the faith - the trusting in the not-knowing was what would give you everything.

But Oliviette was terrified that she was going to die here without ever knowing why she had been kidnapped, or why Tereth wouldn’t let her escape. She was going to die locked up in this dungeon, and no one back home was ever going to know what happened to her.

Not a single soul was going to know, other than Loki - but he seemed content to stay like this. How could that be? Had he forgotten what it was like to not be here?

“Hey…” Oliviette’s voice cracked painfully as she spoke. And she knew she wasn’t going to get any information out of him, but she had nothing better to do than try.

A lingering silence hung heavy in the cell before Loki finally gave a curt response. "What?"

"How long have you been here anyway?" Oliviette asked, looking in the direction of his voice from the dark. She couldn’t see him at all, and wondered if he was even bothering to look back at her.

"I'm not sure. Why?"

Oliviette sighed again, somehow surprised that he gave yet another non-answer. "Just wondering how much time I have to think about all my mistakes before the end…”

Loki said nothing again, his silence hurting more than the blows delivered by the guards earlier. Oliviette’s fingers drifted absentmindedly through her red hair, and she winced as they made contact with the concoction of ripped skin and sticky blood.

Oliviette pulled her fingers away to examine them, tilting her hand and trying to catch the crimson in the dim light of the dungeon. She wondered if she’d be able to even see it if she had a mirror, or if all of the blood was now permanently synonymous with the color of her hair.

“How far did you manage to get?”

His voice startled her again, and she hated it. But that was twice now he’d started a conversation first; Oliviette didn’t know why he was so interested all of a sudden, and she didn’t want to ruin it or push him away again, as silly as that was.

“Not far. I was looking for my staff…” she answered quietly, shivering as she thought about losing her cloak. “I figured I’d need it to fight, but they caught me before I could find it…”

What a stupid, foolish girl she was. And so much for all that "training" Deacon had given her while she was growing up; apparently it was all useless in a real fight. Another tear rolled down her cheek as she recalled having to beg for that training as a child, and how hard her father resisted. How angry he was upon discovering that Deacon was giving them to her in secret…

“I should have just ran instead…” Oliviette continued, whether Loki was still listening or not; talking was much more preferable to the silence. “And the dungeon is like a maze, it just keeps going and going…”

To her surprise, Loki actually responded to that. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually left this cell.”

Oliviette’s brow furrowed in confusion, and she looked in his direction again. “Then how did you get in here?”

She could hear shifting in the shadows, as if he was uncomfortable with the question even though he’d been the one to bring it up. A part of her inexplicably hoped that the shifting was actually him leaving the shadows to move closer to her, and not just because she felt ridiculous talking to a ghost.

But when he didn’t answer, or even emerge from the shadows, Oliviette’s anger began to boil over. “So you won’t say how you got in here, how long you’ve been here, why you’re hiding here. Is there anything you will tell me?” she scoffed.

“I’ll tell you that it’s none of your business.”

“Oh, I think it is, actually. Because if we worked together, we both could get out of here,” Oliviette snapped through angry tears. “But you’d rather be here - and therefore I’m stuck too.”

“I didn’t bring you down here,” Loki answered simply, as if that absolved him of anything.

Oliviette couldn’t believe what she was hearing, that she ever held hope in this man assisting in an escape. “Maybe not, but you’ve trapped me here all the same with your wallowing, and your - ”

“You’re a stranger, and I don’t owe you anything!” Loki interrupted, his own anger becoming more obvious even in the shadows.

“And what could you have possibly done to justify all this? What was it - did you murder a bunch of children? Burn down a village?” Oliviette’s veins swelled with blood as she became angrier, and her head started to throb even more. “Did you get greedy and rob a temple, and that’s why I have to die in a dungeon?”

Loki sighed - a deep, heavy sigh that originated in his bones and seized the air around her. Oliviette almost stopped, but he wasn’t giving her any valid justification as to why it had to be like this, and she was desperate to feel anything other than her own impending doom.

“No, it couldn’t have been so bad, or we would have heard of you before. So what was it? What did you do?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“But you would if you were considerate!”

Oliviette stared unflinching in his direction, feeling a little bit insane for arguing with a shadow. A new fear lodged itself in her throat, that maybe she was just imagining him. Maybe he was just a hallucination - a reaper, meant to escort her to the afterworld. Maybe he was working with the guards, and that this was just the first step of torturous devices awaiting her.

Loki was quiet again, but it was different this time, like a thousand versions of the truth were spilling out of him all at once and he didn’t know which version to choose. But how could any one man be that complicated? And why did it have to be like this?

Oliviette swallowed hard and shook her head when he didn’t answer. Again, her mind sloshed in her skull, and it was pure agony even trying to exist anymore. All she wanted was to sleep, or to wake up and realize this was just a horrible nightmare. But she knew that was never going to happen.

She curled into herself again, huddled against the wall and too cold to care about anything else. Her eyes closed, and she didn’t even have the energy to hope that there was a greater purpose to this - because Loki wasn’t going to answer her, she was never going to get out of here, and this was going to be the method of her demise.

“This is me being considerate…” Loki’s voice wasn’t cruel or mocking, it was simply a matter of fact. Oliviette’s brow furrowed, and she cautiously opened her eyes to peer into the darkness.

“Me hiding away down here, rotting in despair - is me being considerate,” he continued, his self-loathing oozing out of every word - but she could tell that he believed everything he was saying.“You’re just…the latest of my many collateral damages.”

“Is that why you just sat there while the guards dragged me back here?” Oliviette asked quietly, unable to stop herself. She felt dizzy and nauseous and completely sick to her stomach. “Was that you being considerate, or was it because I’m just collateral damage to you?”

“Neither. I was listening to them. They were talking while you were unconscious…”

Oliviette’s eyes widened, amazed that he had actually put in the effort to pay attention. “Wait - you were listening to them?”

“The only other time I’ve heard them say anything was when you were dragged in here for the first time,” Loki answered, almost reluctantly, and her heart started pumping just a little bit faster. “But if I had revealed myself, they would have stopped talking, the way they did earlier when they realized you’d awoken…”

Her breath shuddered, and her limbs tingled with nervous energy. “Just the…mere fact that the guards are even talking now is significant to you?”

“That, and…” Loki cleared his throat before continuing. “The fact that they’re feeding you. So I’ll ask again…”

His tone shifted, from full on reluctance to conservative curiosity, like he couldn’t believe he was asking the question again but he also couldn’t ignore it any longer. Oliviette could feel his eyes boring into her for the first time, and she already knew what he was going to ask next.

“Who are you? And who is this Anathema?”

✦ ─── ⊹ ─── • ° • ─ ☽ ─ • ° • ─── ⊹ ─── ✦

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stupidthoughtsinwriting · 1 year ago

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Try Again | Loki x OC

Chapter 1 - (Next Chapter) -(Chapter List) - (Main Masterlist)

Summary: Enjoying a holiday in Greece until a dreadful call changes it all...

Note: Ohhh I've posted it! okay, first of all, I am open to making a tag list to those interested, just tell me in the comments and I'll put you in. Two, this is the fastest fic i've finished and to me that's astonishing because as you may notice, most of my fics take me months to complete and in finishing this in a few nights is a feat to me. And third, understand that i am going back to class on Monday and thus i might not have as much time to update this as much but i promise i will be working on it and have patience with me. I am unreliable in consistency but I can promise results, even if the time is indefinite. The second chapter is in the works so bear with me and i hope you enjoy!

The sun rests low on the horizon, slowly dipping down amongst the waves. It turns the water a gorgeous shade of gold and the sky flies past in a flurry of bright and brilliant colours. Though as slow as the bright star sinks, it still let off a bit of heat. A welcoming warmth caressing the tanning skin of those still out, enjoying the last rays of the day before heading inside to avoid the chill night.

A child plays in the sand. Building castles of great architecture and collects shells and rocks of all forms and sizes, anything piquing his interests really. A bucket sat beside him and in it rests all his collected treasures. He uses some of the colourful shells and stones to decorate his castle, giving it colour amongst the muted tones of sand.

His mother sits not far from him, basking in the last of the heated rays before the inevitable task of packing up for the day. She watches her boy, clad only in his swim trunks, unruly obsidian curls bouncing at every movement as he fiddles and plays with his toys in the sand.

A warm yet solemn smile painted her thin lips as she watched over her young one, seeing features oh so similar to her husbands. From his ivory skin and up to his emerald eyes, their son was but a copy of his father. The spitting image save for the too few features he had of her, like the scattered bloom of freckles that decorated the bridge of his small nose and cheeks.

He also seems to have gotten mannerisms eerily similar that of his father, despite the brief and few memories he had of him in their short time. The pick at his hands and furrow that would rest on his brows whenever he was confused or sad was just so like her husbands. It brought an overwhelming need to be protect him from the dangers of the world, but she knew that as he grew, she won’t be able to protect him from everything and the best she could do was to teach him how to protect himself. But as of now, she would do just about everything to keep him safe.

Just as the sun began to descend the horizon, the boy abruptly stood up and walked over to where his mother lay beneath an umbrella, clutching tight on the offering he wished to show his mother.

‘Mama!’ he called out as he reached near her.

‘Yes, my darling?’ she replies warmly.

‘Wook at what I found mama’ he urged for her to look once he reached the tail end of her towel, plopping down on her lap, causing her to grunt at the sudden weight while he thrusts his hands to her face, the offering in question presented. She moves to sit up, the young boy still in her lap as she adjusted her position and lifts her Ray-Ban’s to her head so to properly see whatever it was he so wanted her to well, see.

In his small hands, lay a green sea stone. Big enough to dwarf the small hands of a child like his own yet still small in the eyes of others. It rests softly in her son’s palms, smooth surfaced, and tinted seafoam, she understood why it would pick at her son’s interest.

‘That is beautiful love’ she praises, earning a prideful look from the little boy, his chest puffing out as his grin stretched much like a Cheshire cat. It earned a hearty chuckle from the mother, watching her son’s actions. Joyous and confident, much like how his father was before.

‘May I?’ she asked and once a nod was returned, she plucked the stone from his hands, holding it up to the sky. She hoped that what was left of the day was enough for the light to pass through the translucent glass and it did. The stone glowed bright like the waters before them.

A look of awe shaped the boy’s face, his mouth hung open as he stared at the rock, but the mother’s gaze only strayed for a bit before turning back to her son. The look on his face made every hardship worth it and yet again, it brought another wide grin to her face.

Pressing a quick kiss to his temples, she gave the rock back to him and still, he stared at it as if it contained the hidden magic of the world. Taking the moment with his attention pre-occupied, she brushed away the sands stuck to his skin, from his face to his pale torso, she brushed away as much as she could, but the rest would have to be washed away when they get back to their room.

Speaking of which, she glanced at the sun, the sky a canvas of pinks, oranges and violets as the sun sunk down low enough and it now meant that it was time for them to pack up and head back inside.

Her gaze lingered in the horizon until a tiny voice called her back.

‘Mama’ the child called for her.

‘Yes dear?’

‘Do you think papa would wike this?’ he asked, turning her attention back to him. There had been few and brief times that his father was asked about and often this was the question asked. The other times he’d ask were always of his father’s character. Stories of the man were told and a picture of him was kept among the boy’s things as a remembrance, but it had been a long while since he’s asked of him again.

She stared at the orbs identical to her son’s fathers and she couldn’t help but think of him. His charming smile, his careful touch, his loving gaze, and intoxicating smell. She longed to be back in his once safe arms, but she couldn’t, and that truth is to be accepted.

‘Yes he would luv’ she answers. The truth was, knowing her husband, he’d love anything and everything their little boy gave him. From a messily drawn card for Father’s Day and his birthdays down to a piece of cereal the boy had been eating, the man would have been grateful for anything his boy gave him.

‘Bwilliant’ he murmurs, and she just knows he will keep it safely stashed amongst the other things he thinks his father would like. It warmed her heart to have a son so kind and giving. It made her proud that he was growing up to be as so and she just hoped her husband would be as well.

‘Alright darling, we have to go pack up now. Go get your stuff and then we can go back to the room so you can have a bath and then dinner’ she explains to the young boy, tucking away the curtain of curls that hid his face behind his ears before cupping his cheek and giving his little button nose a kiss, causing him to giggle in her hold, his face scrunching up. ‘Alright?’

‘Okay mumma’ he nodded to her command and set off to get his toys and treasures from the sand. Watching him pick up his stuff, she began to pack up as well. Tidying up the drinks and towel she had brough and place them in her bag before brushing off the bit of sand that stuck to her skin before putting on the blue summer dress atop her swimsuit for when they head back to their room.

The boy trudged back to her with a heavy bucket in hand and his kiddie camera slung around his neck. The bucket nearly overfilled with all the stones and shells he collected, along with the beach toys he used to make the castle.

Dropping it with a heavy grunt, the boy huffed and puffed at the exertion, causing his mother to stifle a laugh yet still a sound managed to escape, her hand immediately flying to muffle the sound but seeing it went unnoticed, she relaxed and dropped it.

‘A bit heavy love?’ she asks.

‘A wot heavy’ he says, emphasizing the word like a true drama king. Wonder who he got that from?

‘Alright. Now, do you want to wear a shirt before we go back?’ she asks, offering him the top he wore earlier.

‘No tank you’ he declines, shaking his head.

‘Alrighty then’ she puts his shirt back in the bag before slinging it on her left shoulder and picking up the castle shaped bucket (which did weigh a lot, no wonder her son was left panting) with her left hand. Her right: out in offering for the young boy to hold as they slowly walked back to their hotel.

‘Did you have fun today?’ the mother asked as the walked along the beach.

‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he shouted in enthusiasm, jumping up and down. The mother could only smile at the boy’s joyous behaviour, glad that she could give him fun memories to look back on.

The rest of their walk was filled with conversation about what the new thing’s he discovered about the sea life, the castle he so artistically constructed and the promise of coming back here another day and by the time they reached the lobby of the resort, the mother could see how the exhaustion of the day was taking a toll on her little boy.

‘Ahh, Miss Ackland’ Mr Birch, the evening manager greeted from behind the reception ‘good day I presume?’ he questions, noting how tuckered out her normally energetic son was started to sag against her. With a brief glance to the boy and a small chuckle, she nodded.

‘Yes, it was good day. Especially for this one’ she replies, rubbing a thumb over the hand in her grasp, hoping to at least rouse the child until he’s eaten dinner.

The man chuckles a bit, seeing how unresponsive the boy is to her attempts. ‘My, the young tyke seems real knackered.’ he comments with an accent much like her own yet the way the words flow so smoothly would have anyone wrapped in a trance,

‘Yes well, all day out in the beach seems to do that’ she responds politely.

‘Well, best not keep you from your young one and leave you to it. Have a nice evening miss.’ he bids her well off with a gentle smile that would leave any woman with a common-sense to a puddle, yet she has her immunity, and she powered through with it.

‘Actually, would you mind sending some food to our room in 15, 20 minutes? We haven’t had the chance to get some dinner and I’m hoping to feed at least a little into him before he’s off for the night.’ She requests of the manager, really wishing to at least have her boy a few bites before going dead to the world.

‘Certainly miss.’ He dutily responds, already picking up a phone to call the kitchen ‘Just the usual ma’am?’ he asks of the meal, turning to her with the phone to his ear.

‘Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you Mr. Birch’ she says with a kind grin, faintly hearing his conversation as mother and son walked away.

‘Yes, to the Amphitrite suite in fifteen minutes… Thank you’.

---

Once the pair arrived back to their room, the sun had finally set, casting a now dark canvas, littered with twinkling stars, though it went unnoticed to the weary boy who had let go of his mothers’ hand as soon as they entered and dropped with a thud on the chalk white cushions once he was near enough while his mother, Ms. Ackland, relieved herself of the heavy weight she had been trudging since the beach.

‘Leo’ she called to the boy softly, opting to not chastise the young one when he was already weary. ‘Come on darling. Quick bath and some dinner then off to bed, sleepy head’

‘But I’m not sleepy’ he whined, an indicator of his true predicament, even as he refuses.

‘Well, a quick wash and some supper then’ she bargained even though she knew he’d out like a light by halfway through dinner and when she received no response, she added ‘and we’ll also wash up the shells and rocks you collected, and you can sort through them after.’ And with that, his head shot up, his curls bobbing as he ran (well more speed walk than run) with what energy he had left to her side, awaiting for her instructions and wanting to get his bucket of treasures so he could wash them.

With the young one finally clean and sand free, dressed in his favourite dark blue pyjamas, they set off to the sitting room portion of the suite, just in time for room service to arrive with their supper. Since Leo had his attention to his rocks and shells (fully washed and draining on a colander borrowed from the hotel), his mother was the one that had gone to get the food, still wearing her blue summer dress since there wasn’t enough time for her to get cleaned herself but she planned on doing so after her little boy had gone to bed.

She thanked the room service and closed the door of the suite before fixing up the plate of food and brought it to where little Leo was pre-occupied, seemingly sorting the rocks by colour and size on the towel laid out before him while he let the shells dry out in the colander a little bit longer. She sat beside him, setting the plate a good distance away from his work area and began to feed her little man.

The rest of that time had been quiet, save for the thud of rocks on the whitewashed coffee table and the occasional murmur to open his mouth so the mother could feed him bites of the pork Souvlaki. In between bites, she’d offer her opinion, helping out a bit on his activity but not once has he said anything. Only responding in nods and a shake of his head, another symptom of his fatigue and true to her word, with the plate half cleared, she noticed the lack of hands working through the rocks and a weight leaning on her. Turning her head, she found the boy sound asleep, a rock he had been looking at still in his grasp but the lack of movement and the slow and steady breaths he let out was enough for her to know.

Pushing the plate aside, she carded a hand through his curls, making him curl up more beside her and all that did was take her back to when it was her husband that did the same thing. Head on her lap, she would comb through his raven locks and all that would do was press a face farther onto her stomach, arms wrapping around her waist so he could pull her closer.

This was most endearing when she has pregnant. Her beloved would whisper to her belly in a hushed tone. Her hand, as always, in his head of hair and when her nails would start to scratch at his scalp, a content sigh always left him before he burrowed in the warm mass of her stomach.

Thinking back, those were near the last good moments she had of just the two of them. A loving husband, doting and caring to his beloved wife as the two prepared the arrival of their little one. So cheery and full of life, once was he and now all she could help but do is miss those moments, let alone the man he was back then.

After a small while, the mother took the boy in her arms and having done this so many times before, it was an instant that the boy instinctively wraps himself in his mothers’ hold, arms circling her neck, legs locking behind her as he laid his little head to her chest, right over where her heart beat a rhythm that often lulled him to sleep. She planted a kiss at the top of his head, right on his unruly curls at she took him to the bedroom.

Laying him down in the middle of the queen-sized bed, she laid with him for a bit to make sure he would no longer stir before carefully untangling herself from his hold. She propped some of the pillows beside him, just to make sure he wouldn’t move to far to edge and fall and covered him with his blankie before deciding it was enough and she left the room, shutting the door quietly.

Taking a survey of the suite, she figured on tidying up and finishing what was left of supper before taking a shower herself, wanting to be rid of the day’s clothes and into her own pyjamas while she indulged on some wine in the balcony.

Nearly giddy at the thought, she set off in doing so and half an hour later, she emerges from the ensuite in fresh clothes, warmed somewhat by a thin green cardigan she put over.

The mother then set off to the kitchenette where a good bottle of wine chilled in the mini fridge. Now without any distractions or hesitation, she took a wine glass the concierge so kindly provided, and poured herself a hearty amount, tasting the aged, fermented juice and relishing at the thought of getting lost from her head for a few hours after a glass or two.

With the glass near empty, it was then that she remembered that she hasn’t even touched her phone nearly the whole day and seeing it sat on the counter, with a quick reach, she had it in her hand. She wasn’t surprised of the lack of notifications, so she set it down and finished the last of her glass’s contents. What did surprise her though was the call that connected a minute later, the familiar name on the ID catching her unexpectedly.

She answered the call before it dropped, wanting to hear from the man after a while of no contact.

‘Thor’ she starts, putting the phone to her ear as she poured herself another glass. ‘Long time’

‘Yeah, um. It has, hasn’t it?’ his deep voice grumbles through the phone’s speaker.

‘Five months to be exact’ she clarifies, bringing the glass to her lips and takes a sip.

‘Sorry, it’s just…’ he started to explain himself, but she cuts him off.

‘No. Don’t, don’t do that. Don’t say that. I could have called but I didn’t, and I am as much to blame’ she clarifies, regretting making the comment when she didn’t want to take apologies when she was just as much at fault as he was.

‘Right, alright. Um, where’s little Leo?’ he asks, diverting the conversation to the boy so to get out of that uncomfortable subject.

‘Ohh, he’s already in bed. Sorry. Had a long day’.

‘Wow, that early. It’s just a little before nine. Usually, he’d still be very active. Well from what I can remember that is.’ The blond man chuckles, remembering the nights he’d spend with the very energetic child.

‘Actually, it’s about ten before 11 here.’

‘Her- Wudduya mean here? Aren’t you in town?’ the man asks, clearly very confused and he sounds it and that is her fault.

‘Ohh, were in Santorini on holiday. Sorry, I haven’t informed anyone really and I would have you but-’ you haven’t called, and I couldn’t make the call myself the last bit went unsaid but the both of them knew.

‘Oh, okay. Alright.’ He pauses for a while, leaving a pregnant silence to fill until he did. ‘Well, is it good there?’

‘Very’ she responds immediately, uncomfortable by that gap. ‘it’s beautiful. The water, the architecture, the culture, the people, it’s absolutely wonderful.’ She describes, looking to the balcony where there was a perfect view of the sea. ‘Leo’s enjoying himself too. Playing in the beach all day, making sandcastles and he collects shells and rocks that take his interest and earlier he went about to sorting them, but the little man fell asleep halfway into dinner. Too worn out from the day to even finish his sorting.’ She giggles a bit, remembering how the little boy looked all curled up beside her.

‘Seems like you’re having a good time.’ The man responds, a bit despondent but she didn’t hear that.

‘We are.’ She says with a bit of pride ‘we are’ she repeats though this time she’s uncertain and dejected because a part of her is guilty. For actually having a good time and without the man she loves. And another part.. just wants him. To be here with them. To enjoy this with them but, we can’t have all we want now can we.

She faintly heard someone talking, someone angry and that was followed by the sound of the phone shuffling before she heard Thor again.

‘Sorry Em, could you hold for a minute?’ he requests, and she answers back yes but before she could ask anymore, he mutes.

She put the phone on speaker and set it down, taking a gulp of her wine and as promised, after a minute, he came and called her back.

‘I’m back. You still there?’

‘Yah’ she manages before swallowing her drink ‘still here. Everything alright?’ she asks, wondering who it was that was so angry (though she should have known).

‘Yeah. Everything’s just fine’ he replies, sounding out breath.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah, absolutely. Terrific’ he says with far too much cheer, it annoyed her enough to know it was fake.

‘Thor.’ She says firmly, setting her glass down the marble counter ‘What’s going on?’ she demands sternly, using the voice she rarely would use to chastise Leo with when on bad behaviour, not wanting some half-arsed answer.

Again, a long of silence stretched on until with a heavy sigh, he began.

‘He’s in hospital again.’ He confesses and she shakes her head, knowing well who he meant. Irritated was she, evidently enough to pick up her glass and divide its contents into half.

‘He’s always in hospital’ she replies after swallowing, swirling the liquid around the glass and she watches in fascination, wanting to get her head from what he just said.

‘No. This is different.’ He presses, knowing the times he’s said this before were for minor and abrasive accounts.

‘What do you mean?’ she pesters, her voice now wobbly as a burst of possibilities swirled in her head.

‘He um- ‘he stops himself, swallowing the hard pill because knowing her, telling her this would only tear her apart. ‘He rang me earlier.’ That enough was a giveaway that something was wrong, the severity was the only missing piece. ‘He was in pain, and he could barely let out anything before he dropped the phone and groaned in agony.’ Her breathing hitched then, tears welling her eyes while her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I got to him as soon as I could, and when I found him, he was on the floor, in pain’ He hated repeating that but all he could do was relay the accounts of what happened as it was still all so fresh and hope he could filter it as much as possible. ‘I called for an ambulance and tried to get him to tell me what was happening, but he couldn’t even respond’ he chokes, remembering the sight and it flashes before his eyes, as if he was reliving the whole painful ordeal again.

Emma on the other hand, had tears quietly running her cheeks, hand still tightly clasped to her mouth for fear she would let out a sob that would not only alert Thor but Leo as well. Her mind ran rampant, creating images and images of her pained husband, lying helplessly in pain on the floor, asking for help to no one because of his solitude. Not knowing if he there was anyone coming at all.

Guilt held a tighter grip on her breaking heart as her mind convinced herself that it was her fault that he was alone. She should have been there. She shouldn’t have left. She should have taken care of him and maybe he wouldn’t be where he was if it she had just stayed and cared for him. But she didn’t and she wasn’t there when he was helplessly lying on the ground, wondering if the last thing he’d see was the dirt and bottles that undoubtedly littered the floors around him instead of his beloved wife and darling son.

She swallowed back the sob itching to escape her lips, desperate on not making a sound.

Her mind was taking a turn in the labyrinth it already was, taking her to unknown ends of painful scenarios her unyielding mind procures when she still doesn’t have the pieces to the whole story.

A creep of silence then went on for the benefit of both. Time for them to compose themselves before the once boisterous man continued.

‘The ambulance-’ he begins once more, though demurely ‘-arrived quickly. And they took him to the hospital immediately, seeing the state he was. Even the doctors didn’t know what was happening to him, but they gave him morphine for the pain.’ He somewhat assures and it relieves her a bit knowing he wasn’t in pain anymore. ‘They let him rest for a bit before they took him for tests. He’s resting now though. They’re keeping him for the night under observation but there was talk that the stay might be indefinite until they figured out what was wrong. Just in case another attack happened but you know him’ he teases lightly, not wanting to drown in the dampening mood this whole conversation, hell this whole ordeal has taken and neither did she so, she appreciates the lightening.

And she also knew what he meant. Her husband hated hospitals. Even stepping one foot inside churned his insides enough and being a patient? We’ll she knew enough to give her an idea of what happened.

It didn’t help her to think of his reaction to being told that he had to stay the night. Scared as he might have already been, the prospect of staying even longer undoubtedly terrified him and thus she concluded that he refused the longer stay.

Thinking of it, the only time he was at some sort of ease while in the hospital was when they took baby Leo for his newborn check up and even then he was anxious. The check-up had been a necessary. Just to assure the new parents that their little one was alright and properly checked on since a homebirth lacked that formality. The man himself had been the one to insist on the homebirth and Emma didn’t object to that, wanting to give the man a sort of peace as they brought their child to the world. His fears only eased once the doctor told them that everything is just as it should be about their newborn and there and only then did he relax as he rejoice on the fact that they had a health baby boy.

That clued her enough of his fear of hospitals and that information didn’t help her at all now.

‘The doctors are coming back in the morning for the results but after that, he insists on leaving’ he continuous to inform her, wary of her lack of response.

She hasn’t said anything since the start of his recount. Not a sound could be heard from her end of the line, and it unnerve him, making him check to see if the call was still on and it was. It took him a few good minutes, but he deduced why she was so silent.

He knew his sister well and the things he’s regaled to her… he just knew it was breaking her being apart.

‘Emma’ he called out, wanting to be sure he was still taking to someone. ‘you still there?’

‘yah’ she muttered, barely audible but he heard.

She had sunken to the floor, leaning against the counters as she pulled her knees to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she silently cried. Her phone still sat atop the island, her call with her brother-in-law still ongoing yet there she was, listening, tears running her cheeks as she listened to him describe the torment her beloved endured.

‘He needs you now’ the man murmurs, pleading for his brother’s sake that she come back. He knew his little brother wouldn’t take it if these pains continued on and he feared the day he would give up. And without the person he loves most, the person that had been his solace long before, his rock and home, he is terrified of that end coming too soon.

The woman could only swallow at the man’s words before clamping a hand on her mouth and burying her head to her knees as an unrelenting sob escapes her. She had no control of it and the others that followed but she did have control of how loud they would come to so she did her best to make as little sound as she possibly could.

Try as she did though, Thor heard her. Muffled as it was, he knew that sound better than he liked to admit and not once did his heart break not break for her every time.

‘just… please come back’ he begs her once more, intending to end the call and leave her to some privacy. He stays on for a bit longer and just as he was about to press the end button, she called out to him, saying his name in an unsteady voice, congested and clear that she had been crying.

Two days she wanted to say. Give her two days and she would do everything she could to be there as soon as possible but what left her mouth wasn’t so. ‘Take care of him for me’ she pleads her own, on the brink of another fit of sobs but she held on till the call ended.

‘Always’ he responds before ending the call and with that her resolve crumbles.

Once again, her hand flies to cover her mouth, going in to cover and muffle the onslaught of sobs she had no hope of controlling but… they never came. Whether it was for some preservation for Leo’s deep sleep or her sudden inability to, they never come. What took its place though was a rush of tears and a heavy heart.

Leaning back on the limewashed cupboards, she let her tears run and her heart sink for she thought she deserved it. The guilt eating at her from the inside. Churning her stomach to knots and crushing her heart to shreds. It manipulated her. Turning her to the villain at the heart of this mess when she had done nothing but protect herself and her son from the tragedy that was once a happy family.

Her mind was a cruel and fickle thing. Making her believe the lies it comes up with and without the one person who knew how to lead her out of the labyrinth, she was lost. Facing every new dreaded possibility at every dead end without escape or clue on how to get out because the person that always led her to the exit, became the reason she was lost and missed it.

She didn’t blame him though. Despite what the others do, not once did she blame the poor tortured soul of her husbands’ because how could she. She could have helped him and stayed by him, just as she vowed but breaking that promise lost her the right to blame, not that she would.

In sickness and in health… clearly she didn’t hold her promise on that.

She drew her knees back to her chest, letting her heart wrench while a hand rose to reach for the bottle of wine that still sat on the bench. Once she got that down, Emma took a big swig right out of the bottle, never minding the glass she used before. Her only goal. To suffer and hope she’d be numb enough to stop the tears from flowing.

And that’s how she spent the rest of the night. Sat on the kitchenette floor of her suite, back against the cupboards as she let her tears dry out while burning a bottles’ worth of wine through her liver, letting her guilt and sorrow drape over her as it would a child under a tablecloth on Halloween.

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olet-lucernam · 7 months ago

Text

A Hollow Promise [27] chapter vi, part iv

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

chapter summary : astrid gathers her allies, and draws the attention of her enemies. loki pays a heavy price for a victory.

recommended listening : what you waiting for?, gwen stefani

tag list: @femmealec @mischief2sarawr

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54 weeks and 1 day out

“Sir. We have movement.”

Tony felt the lines of his spine and shoulder blades pull straight, almost reflexively, swivelling into motion at his holographic worktable like a well-oiled gear.

He was going on a self-imposed work diet- an attempt to rebalance, after living in his work for the past few months, building and breaking and remaking in an endless beta-testing phase, a Sisyphean attempt to patch every vulnerability he could imagine- but it had been pushed back, under the circumstances, and he had rationed out enough time for him to deal with the situation, before starting the full detox.

“Where are we, J?” He asked, with a casual upwards flick above the table.

The gesture summoned a hologram above the desk: an architectural scale model of the Tower, crafted in vitrified blue light.

“There is some unusual activity near the roof.”

The area in question turned orange on the three-dimensional map, zooming in for an exploded view of the topmost two-dozen floors.

Tony had remodelled the top of the Tower, after the Battle of New York. Damage had given him the excuse, and the team had provided the reason. Repaired and restructured, several stories added to its height, the broad, smooth curves and open layout modelled after his cliffside home in Malibu were scrapped, the exterior cleaner and sharper- streamlined, from the slanted crown of its roof, through the convex glass-faced layers of the penthouse floors, to the landing pad extending out into the open air.

Locals had taken to calling it Avengers Tower. None of the roster aside from Tony had taken up residence yet, but they all agreed that it was a good base, and Tony kept the personal suites ready for whenever they might need to drop in.

The luminescent A badge shimmered on the side of the building, level with the landing pad. Just below it- within the three floors dedicated to Tony’s private laboratories, workshops, storage, and fabrication facilities- a red diamond marked his current location.

“Surveillance feeds and motion sensor detectors are offline,” JARVIS announced, highlighting the locations in a chain, “as are the door sensors.”

Tony visually tracked the path that it created.

It led from the roof access, into the emergency stairwell, before terminating at the door into Thor’s suite: no more and no less than would be needed to gain access to the building.

It was more than twenty floors above him- a distance that would take several minutes to traverse. He had time.

“You locked out, buddy?” Tony asked quietly, summoning his touch keyboard with a sweep of his palm. “Or are they trying to be subtle?”

“Neither, sir. As with the first occurrence, this appears to be a mechanical failure, not a cyber-attack.”

His gaze narrowed briefly, jaw moving.

Somehow, that was both more and less plausible than JARVIS being hacked.

“Shall I prepare to go into lockdown protocol, sir?” JARVIS proposed. “It should be possible to isolate intruders to one of the penthouse floors, once they are inside.”

Tony contemplated the offer for only a heartbeat.

“No. Clear the way down for her, J,” he decided breezily. “Let’s hear what she has to say.”

There was a brief, audibly judgemental pause in the response time.

“As you wish, sir.” Tony could hear the mild disapproval and concern behind his AI’s cool, crisp tones. “Shall I at least stand by with security protocols?”

“Doubt we’ll be needing them, but- feels like this one’s got a few fireworks up her sleeve.” He conceded blithely, pre-empting the reproach about putting himself at unjustifiable risk. “Alright. Safety off, but finger off the trigger.”

Tony turned in his chair, scanning the room. The workshop was cluttered with a rich confusion of half-finished projects, both metal and digital, strewn across screens and surfaces between discarded coffee cups and various tools.

“And clear the decks, J. Window Dressing Protocol.”

At the command, the screens cleared.

Detailed blueprints and test data were replaced with generic schematics and randomised code, like cellophane pasted on a device fresh out of the box. They reflected in the wall of glass that faced the length of the room- diluted against the dark hallway beyond.

With a gentle swipe, Tony dismissed the render of the Tower.

Rising to his feet, he slid the rolling chair aside, summoned a program and began typing, looking to all the world like the very image of productivity and genius at work.

He wasn’t kept waiting for long.

A gentle rap of knuckles sounded on the reinforced, shatter-proof glass.

Tony’s head snapped up.

The girl whose real name definitely wasn’t Alethia waited just outside, painted like day in the light spilling from the workshop.

She was dressed for the winter night, a New York romance in a soft black sweater and jeans the colour of dried roses, champagne hair pinned in in a braided coil, emphasising a pretty set of cheekbones and long eyelashes. Backs of her knuckles still raised to the glass, snow-dusted and pleasantly windswept, she tipped chin down slightly in greeting.

She looked better, Tony observed. Her skin was clearer, her eyes brighter, expression smoother- less tension-soured, less angry, and more like the person that she had sounded like, aboard the Helicarrier.

Without looking, he tapped a command into the control panel.

The electronic lock switched open with a heavy snap.

Alethia turned the handle, stepping inside, flawless and measured.

“Dr Stark.”

There was a low thrum in her voice, as though cautiously pleased to see him.

“Not-agent.”

Tony’s reply was blandly jovial. Shunting the lines of code aside, he stepped away from the workbench, one hand tucked into his pocket. He had remained outfitted in dark sweats and a gym shirt, standard gear for the workshop, but his posture was that of when he was in a three-piece suit and a boardroom- eyes fixed on her face, chin tilted up slightly, sizing her up with an air of casual challenge.

To her credit, Alethia remained unaffectedly at ease.

It had reminded him a little of Pepper- but not by much.

Virginia Potts was like a ceramic knife. There was a deliberate poise to her, born of a consciousness of her disadvantages in the industry, a refusal to be anything less than a worthy player of the game; she was everything prim and correct and refusing to be intimidated, the result of thousands of observations and lessons learned and choices made, constructed into a statuesque, pleasantly intimidating facade.

Alethia reminded him far more of someone else.

Tony had realised it when she was leaning over the Tesseract transport device, her voice focused and softly mirthful.

Relax. I have steady hands.

For a moment, he had been hurled back in time. He had tasted metal, and dust, lung tissue still burning from the water with each breath, the heat of the forge at his back and the dim cold of the caves at his front, the weight of a car battery slung over his shoulder, and a pair of lean hands- Yinsen, sure and calm and steady, mild-mannered yet ruthlessly insightful, guarded and tired and yet earnest- pouring molten palladium into its cast.

Relax, he had chided Tony gently, tilting the long handles of the tongs, inclining the lip of the crucible over the mould. I have steady hands. Why do you think you are alive, ah?

After removing it from his chest for the second time, Tony had quietly returned the first miniaturised arc reactor to the display mount that Pepper had commissioned, sealing it back in glass.

It was still powered by that delicate ring of palladium, poured by steady hands under a mountain in Afghanistan.

With a steady sweep of her lashes, Alethia looked past Tony’s shoulder, at the screen display where he had been typing.

Her head tilted.

“Was there any particular reason that you were translating the lyrics of ABBA’s Dancing Queen into base64?”

Huh. Well.

Tony had more or less expected that she would see straight through the chains of randomised letters and numbers, like an awl punching through leather, but- the casual quickness was a little disorientating. It was like expecting a card trick, and getting shoved into a swimming pool instead.

“Everybody needs a hobby,” he said, bald-faced and shameless.

“Mm.” Hazel eyes flicked to his, warm as vanilla and laughter. “I’ve heard worse.”

They trailed into silence.

“Ran a trace, on the phone number you left,” Tony admitted boldly. “Before I called.”

Alethia smiled slightly.

“Ah. Were you disappointed?”

“I think I’d be disappointed if it was that easy.” Tony decided, circling the desks, feigning distraction. Alethia was missing a coat that would make sense for the cold. Her nails were trimmed neat, without polish. The only traces of makeup were a swipe of soft black kohl at the corners of her eyes and the sheen of lip balm. Practical, yet impractical. “Complete no sell, though. Impressive. That SHIELD tech?”

The corner of her mouth pulled up further.

“No.”

“You still with them?”

“If I ever was, I’m not now.”

“So you’re a free agent?”

“Free not-agent.”

“How long?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“I mean, I’d call it due diligence, but I’ve got a pair of cuffs somewhere, if it’d make you more comfortable.”

Alethia’s smile bloomed into a brilliant grin.

“Didn’t think you’d be into that, Dr Stark.”

She sobered slightly, clear as glass.

“Ask me what you want to know. I wouldn’t have left a way for you to contact me, if I wasn’t willing to talk.”

Tony held her gaze for a long moment.

He tapped at the keypad.

Several pages opened across the screens.

Pages of instructions, formulas, tables, calculations, and skeletal molecular structures illuminated the digital glass.

Alethia kept her gaze on Tony.

“What is this?” Tony asked, quiet and direct.

She breathed a slow exhale, hip cocking.

“The formulas, chemical synthesis processes, and medical procedures for stabilising the biological effects of the experimental serum known as Extremis,” she announced clinically, “when introduced to the human body intravenously, subcutaneously, or intramuscularly.” Alethia paused, pointedly. “I did include an abstract.”

“And you broke into my building to leave it here.”

“I apologise for the necessity.” Alethia replied evenly. “It was safer, than a courier.”

“You couldn’t think of another way?”

She arched an eyebrow.

“So- a package, delivered to this building, or a file sent to the general inquires inbox for Stark Industries, addressed directly to you, from an unknown sender- wouldn’t have been lost in the system?”

Despite the lingering irritation, he could admit that she had a point.

And at least she hadn’t tried to hack JARVIS, or threatened to taser him, or ripped the arc reactor out of his chest, or thrown him through a window.

All in all, this break-in was probably in his top three.

Tony flicked his hands into a shrug, keeping his expression blank and blithe.

“Alright. Let’s say I buy that.” He did buy it, but she didn’t need to know that yet. “You wanna tell me what this really is?”

He saw the subtle shift in her eyes, becoming a little shrewder, a touch sharper- and a little pleased.

She pulled up one shoulder.

“A gift? Or a bribe, perhaps. Gratitude. Diplomacy. A resumé.”

“What, you’re in the market for a job?”

The quip was as pithy as he intended, but in the split second that followed- huh.

Actually.

That wasn’t a terrible idea.

Tony acknowledged that he needed to step back from Iron Man- at least until he could reorganise his head and redraw the lines so that it wasn’t the all-consuming furnace of fear and duty and penance and freedom-safety that it had become- but the work wouldn’t wait. The planet was on a deadline, and Tony had more resources than most to pull the necessary defences together. Having good people on board, who could keep his projects ticking over while he reorientated, was essential.

And Alethia knew. She had recognised the monsters lurking in the dark between the stars, and had looked for someone to warn when she decided that Fury couldn’t be trusted to listen.

And then there was the truth in all things, and cannot lie aspect. That was a hell of an ace up Earth’s collective sleeve- if, if, if-

“I don’t need a job, Dr Stark. What I need is an ally.” Alethia spoke as clear and calm as daybreak upon the mountains. “We both do. As many as we can get.”

Tony swallowed, carefully.

He turned his head to look at the screens, grappling down the swoop of intermingled terror and relief.

“So this is your pitch.”

“I was working on other areas, but- I saw the news,” Alethia said mildly. “The bombings. Malibu.”

She hesitated.

“I was worried.”

Tony flicked a slightly surprised glance back at her.

Alethia’s gaze was on the screens, inscrutable.

There was a note of quiet sincerity in her voice that rattled something within him, like marbles in a jar.

“Well.” Tony began, turning back towards the illuminated text. “I’ve come back from the dead before.”

“Even so.” She demurred. “You were- you were kind to me. I didn’t forget that. So I was glad to find that you were alright. Then I found out about AIM, and Extremis, and I- thought you could use the assistance.”

Tony didn’t know what to say.

He still couldn’t decide, even after a moment to reboot.

Instead, he deflected.

“I knew you weren’t an engineer.”

“Hm?”

Tony flicked a practiced, flippant gesture at the screens- a quick upturn of his palm, fingers loosely curled- turning away.

“Back then. The instructions you provided for the Tesseract device- I mean, we talked about it at the time. Hot garbage, right? Intentional hot garbage, but still. There was a solid working understanding of the physics and the mechanics, but it wasn’t written by someone au fait with the field. There are things that you only learn if you’ve studied it, read the books, learned how to speak the language. It’s all in the common practice- the jargon, the shorthand. That was missing, from your papers. There were a few pieces, but not enough. You’re not an engineer.”

Tony turned to face her, expression a flat, inscrutable mask.

“You are a doctor, though.”

Alethia didn’t flinch.

He would expect nothing less, from someone who had kept secrets from Nicholas Fury and was still walking around, doing as she pleased.

“This,” Tony raised a finger to his shoulder-line, indicating the screens behind him. “Is perfect. Flawless. You could send this for peer review and get it published in The Lancet.”

A chink appeared in Alethia’s expression- something that she had allowed to break through, intense as sunlight striking on a shard of glass.

Pride.

It was earned. As far as Tony could tell, she had whipped up the antiserum formula within a matter of days; any sane research institute or private company on the planet, including the medical subsidiaries of Stark Industries, would be putting a bounty on her corporate headhunt if they knew.

Blasé as he could afford to be with money, however, Tony rarely made a purchase without knowing the price.

“So. What are you?” He paced back towards her, gathering a slow momentum like the wind of a crank, closing in. “Biochem? Cellular biology? Genetics? What’s your speciality?”

Alethia smiled.

“Neurosurgery.”

Tony’s brow twitched at the admission, taken aback.

He wasn’t actually expecting a straight answer. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

And he wasn’t expecting its wistfulness.

“You’re a brain surgeon?”

She let out a short laugh.

“I should probably introduce myself.” An incandescent, media-ready smile lit up her features, relaxed and confident. “Dr Astrid North, MD.”

Tony stilled.

That was her name, he could tell. Not an alias.

Tony quickly calculated the risk, that she was taking.

“Date of birth recorded as the twenty-ninth of February, 1988,” she continued, as though this time she was actually reciting and submitting her résumé for consideration. “Graduated from Columbia in the class of ’03, summa cum laude, completed my neurosurgical residency in 2010. I also worked under the surnames Stephenson and Stephensdottir- spelt like the doctorate, not like the super-soldier. There should be records of me available here in New York, as well as the UK, Italy, Switzerland, Sweden, Singapore, and Brazil.”

Tony could feel the staccato of his heart, stuttering behind the arc reactor, a thrum of anticipation.

“Hm. SHIELD know any of this?”

Alethia’s- Astrid’s- lip curled with a hint of contempt.

“No.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

She lifted her shoulder. “I thought you’d want an insurance policy.”

“And what have I done to earn that?”

“You listened.”

“I passed the test,” Tony inferred. “That’s why you’re here?”

“I’m here because I would like to trust you,” Astrid said coolly, “and because I think there’s a more than fair probability that I can. And- because I would like you to trust me. Even if only enough to work together.”

Tony observed her for a few dragging seconds.

“What’s your endgame?” He challenged. “You told me back then that you’re not an altruist.”

“Oh, I’m not.”

“Then why? What’s in it for you?”

Her brow tensed slightly.

“Enlightened self-interest? Or, is I don’t want the planet I currently live on to be destroyed insufficient for you?”

“Eh, plenty of people don’t find it compelling. Look at climate change.”

Astrid’s lips parted to reply- before she grimaced, glancing aside in admission.

“Alright, fair point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But maybe I’m just more circumspect.”

“Or you have another reason.”

She lifted her eyes to the ceiling with a slow blink.

“You are being very obstinate about this.”

“You know, I don’t actually care, what your actual reason is,” Tony blurted out, sharp and caustic as battery acid, a sudden flare of anger and impatience shoving him forwards, “because you’re right. We need allies. Including each other. So I’m willing to work with your reason why. But only if I know what it is.”

The moment that Tony stopped speaking, he became aware of how Astrid was looking at him.

Tony felt like he was being taken apart, disassembled, the cover plate pulled off to check the hardware.

Truth in all things.

She hummed, soft in the back of her throat. It was the kind that he could feel in his sternum, even with most of it carved away for the arc reactor.

“Alright,” she said softly. “Fair’s fair.”

She straightened, looking away.

“There is- someone.” She said carefully. “Someone that I love.”

Tony blinked.

It was like the twist of a kaleidoscope, patterns reforming, in four simple words.

“And the one responsible for- that-” Astrid snapped a finger heavenwards, her entire being smouldering with a leashed, soul-deep hatred, “took them, at their most vulnerable. Captured them. Tortured them. For months. Years. Twisted their memories, tainted their emotions, and manipulated their pain until they no longer knew where they ended, and the sceptre began. They barely kept enough of themselves to ruin it all, and break free of the control.”

Tony felt a muscle in his bicep and jaw twitch, flicking an appraising, calculating look across her.

Interesting.

“The one that I love will be hunted as a traitor. Or, as a failure- I don’t think it matters, and I don’t care. It all has the same end. What matters is that the one I love will never be safe, until and unless that is no longer a threat.”

Astrid dropped her hand, meeting his eyes addressing him with a tone of complete, terrifying certainty.

“I have decided that it is not going to be a threat.”

The floor of Tony’s stomach dropped out, the room seeming to tilt.

He was suddenly struck with a strange thought- like some survival instinct coded into his evolutionary ancestry, tapping at his nerve endings, lingering like a chill in the vertebrae of his neck. It was the feeling that he was looking at something ancient, and angered- half-mad and unhinged and doing an admirable job of containing itself to its human skin.

He realised, in a split second, that Astrid was probably something not entirely human.

And she was baring her teeth at whatever was threatening to swallow Earth whole.

Fuck it. He could work with this.

“All of the sake of love?” Tony asked.

He took pride in the fact that his cadence was even-keeled, despite the stagger of his pulse.

A humourless, self-deprecating smile wrung through her features.

“You can laugh,” Astrid told him, rueful and without rancour. “I know how I must sound.”

Tony forced himself to shrug, nonchalantly. “I’ve heard worse.”

And he had. Tony had been worse. He had cut deals with worse, because he was a realist, and anyone pursuing utopia had to be willing to drag themselves through purgatory first.

After a long moment, Tony inhaled sharply, pulling his shoulders back.

“Okay,” he said powerfully. “If this is a bluff? I’m calling it. Cards on the table.”

A spark ignited behind Astrid’s eyes, like a struck match.

“Pepper’s been injected with Extremis,” he continued brusquely, “I need to get her stable, along with any other test subjects that AIM decided to turn into literal walking time bombs. That’s why you gave me these papers, right? You thought I could use it, and I can. So let’s get to it. You in?”

Astrid looked startled- before her entire demeanour snapped into a honed, clinical focus.

“Wh- are you monitoring cortisol levels? Internal temperature, heartrate, WBC-?”

“Per doctor’s orders.” Tony flicked his head towards the reams of detailed medical instructions, listed out on the glass. “Followed your procedures to the letter. We’re tracking down anyone else who might have taken part in clinical trials, but it looks like there were a limited number, at least.”

Astrid tugged up her sleeves with an efficient pinch of fabric, pulling the soft knit clear of her wrists and forearms. “How many potential patients?”

“Caps out at a dozen, maybe.”

“The antiserum? You’ve started synthesising it?”

“As we speak, lab’s running on auto.”

“How much?”

“About two hundred and fifty milligrams, in the first batch.”

“Not enough. Triple it. And quintuple it for the others, per patient. I don’t want to be caught out with less than we need. Have you started on the round of pre-antiserum IV fluids?”

“About three hours ago.”

“And no adverse effects, contraindications?”

“Nada. Smooth sailing, all in line with where you said we should be by now.”

“Good, but keep Miss Potts closely monitored. And we’ll still need to test the antiserum on a live tissue sample, if possible.”

“I’ll get on it.”

Tony swiped two fingers down through the air, dismissing the pages on the screens, the room dimming slightly as they slid away.

“If this works,” he said, his enunciation crisp, “we can talk.” In one fluid motion, Tony plucked a StarkPad from amongst the chaos of the workbenches, flipping it in his grip to hold it, outstretched, within her reach. “Sound good, doctor?”

Astrid smiled, light and wild, and Tony felt his decision settle in his chest with a feeling of rightness.

This could work.

She took the tablet.

“Lead the way, doctor.”

Astrid made an addition to her list.

Flour.

50 weeks and 3 days out

Brunnhilde would be the first to admit that she was not made for subterfuge.

She was a woman of brash, blunt action, more inclined to punch her way straight through her problems that to deconstruct them. As such, her vocation suited her. The Valkyrie were the vanguard, the cavalry, the elite corps, revered shieldmaidens who cleared the field with a swift, graceful brutality that was immortalised in legend and song and carving.

They had been thralls, once. Slaves.

Most of Asgard had forgotten that.

As war raged across the Nine, they had been appropriated by the throne- a form of tax levy, on the wealthy of Asgard- and dispatched to the battlefield in the wake of Asgard’s armies, to collect corpses from the slurry. Choosers of the slain, the golden-plated Einherjar snickered into their cups, leering over the rims.

Then there was a shortage of disposable warm bodies. It had seen weapons pressed into their hands, shoved to the front lines to fill out the ranks.

Against all expectation, the Valkyrie had fought. The fought, and lived, and bought victory to Asgard.

In recognition of their deeds, Bor had purchased their freedom. The Valkyrie became the pride of Asgard, a symbol of its might, arrayed in battle armour of bright, sun-catching pearl-white and star-silver.

Their origins were probably why the Valkyrie could be found working, even in peacetime- conducting funerary rites, serving at great state occasions, maintaining Folkvang- while the Einherjar regressed into nothing more than decorative doorstops scattered throughout Gladsheim.

Brunnhilde had once remarked as such to Loki. Months later, he had presented her with a gilded doorstop for her nameday, crafted into the shape of an Einherjar in full regalia.

It had sent Brunnhilde into a fit of delighted, undignified cackles.

I’m calling him Sigurd, she declared with a feral grin.

Ah, he’s not going to last a week, Loki had commented, clicking his tongue with a convincing veneer of faux-pity.

Even now, few if any of Brunnhilde’s sisters were of noble blood or wealthy backgrounds. Most of them came from labouring families, apprenticed in a trade before they turned old enough to apply to the corps, and they bought their skills to Folkvang. The Valkyrie’s halls, sheltered in a chilled, fertile basin in the mountains, was almost entirely self-sufficient thanks to their collective knowledge. They raised fields of wheat and flax, milled their own flour and spun their own linen, wove and baked and built, felled timber and hunted and fished, tanned leather and cured meat, cut stone and dug wells, even kept bees and pressed oil and fermented wine and made candles.

And then there was the lace.

A few girls who knew how to weave had taken it up, transforming thread into pretty swatches of aerated cloth. They had begun teaching the craft to a few others, when they showed interest. Then the pastime became an additional source of income, to supplement the stipend provided by the crown.

And within a few centuries, Valkyrie lace was considered amongst the most exquisite craftsmanship in all the Nine. A single spool of inch-wide trim commanded a small fortune. When a Valkyrie was wed, it was customary for her sisters to spend the year and a day between engagement and marriage- or longer, if they saw the union coming- making as many yards of lace as they could manage, as her dowry.

Brunnhilde loved her sisters, admired their work, and hated lacemaking with a virulence that she usually reserved for bilgesnipe and strutting lordlings who thought that bedding a Valkyrie was a notch in their gilded belt.

Fortunately, she also had absolutely no talent for it. The others had quickly banished her from their tatting pillows and needles and bobbins, gently shoving her off towards work that actually made sense to her.

And Brunnhilde was content to have nothing to do with it. She honestly couldn’t understand what the others envisioned in the countless threads, or why crossing one here or knotting another there would somehow create a magnificently intricate motif several thousand more motions later, even if she was capable of appreciating the result.

In that sense, subterfuge reminded her of lacework.

She couldn’t see all of the threads, where they were leading, or how they locked together into a single bolt of woven fibre and air- but Loki so clearly knew exactly how each and every loop and twist and knot would build outwards, and took quiet satisfaction in seeing each one tighten into place, like a miniature noose.

There was an aching patience to it, each miniscule snag changing the fall of the delicate mesh, and Brunnhilde was often caught by the impulse to just hack her way through it.

She didn’t.

Instead, she did exactly as he asked.

Asgard underestimates him, a memory whispered- that of a warm voice, accompanied by a smile that darkened the eyes above it into amber. Or thinks it sees him, or thinks it knows what it’s looking at. A trick of the light. A shadow on glass. It is a mistake, you know.

The darkened eyes had begun to glow, instead, when they saw that Brunnhilde was paying attention.

I think he might be the most real person that I have ever met.

“I was surprised,” Loki admitted, on a low, distracted hum, “that you didn’t ask.”

The dungeons were quiet, at least in the wing where Loki was being held. It felt like an archive, a place for lost and forgotten things to be kept, shelved and stored out of sight until they were needed- the air settled as silt on the bottom of a riverbed, barely stirring with the sparse rounds of the guards.

Brunnhilde had counted eleven weaknesses that she could exploit, if it came to it.

She would have counted three dozen more in a fraction of the time.

She felt her heart clench strangely. It was the feeling of old scar tissue, untouched for so long, flexing and moving once more.

She and Loki were seated at the front of his cell, arranged parallel against the golden barrier on either side. Swathed in worn, nondescript suedes, Brunnhilde slouched on the stone steps, bare shoulder shoved against the forcefield; the air felt thicker the closer she came to the curtain of spellwork, like magnetic resistance, but she found herself leaning her weight into it, defiant and testing, like pressing her thumb down on a new bruise.

On the other side, Loki was sorting through several sheaves of handwritten notes, stacks surrounding him like panes in a half-rose window. His black hair was braided back at his crown, dressed in soft leathers and deep green linens and lightweight boots, finely made with immaculate quality, but far simpler than would be expected of an Asgardian prince- at least outside of the privacy of the residential wings of the palace.

Brunnhilde knew that he could have dressed himself in illusions, if he wished.

The choice not to was- interesting. In a way that she refused to think about.

There were a lot of things she refused to think about, with regards to Loki.

Not when it made her feel all those mollusc-soft sentiments that she had decided to kill years ago, for her own survival, after the gold plating of Asgard had begun to flake in her eyes.

In that, at least, she knew they were both in good company.

“I asked about this,” Brunnhilde countered his comment, tapping a nail against the arm ring that sat flush against the curve of her bicep. It was a deceptively simple band of brass, seeming to blend in against her, unremarkable regardless of lighting. Between it, and Loki’s magic, they were shielded from the Gatekeeper’s watch- Loki as a glaring lacuna in the script, a blank space, and Brunnhilde as though from behind a fine, misting rain, the specifics blurred out of focus.

Loki rolled his eyes, in that prissy, superior manner that left Brunnhilde more amused than irritated, these days.

“Yes, about whether it would turn your skin orange or set you spitting toads, of all things.”

“It was a valid concern, knowing you.”

“Hm.” There was a slight upturn at the corner of Loki’s mouth- the closest thing to agreement that she would probably wrest out of him.

Brunnhilde slipped loose a smirk.

“I didn’t bother asking,” she admitted, in a crisp-consonant drawl, “because I knew that I probably wouldn’t understand it anyway. It would be like asking to read a contract before I sign, when I don’t know the language it’s written in.”

Loki’s eyes sliced up from the papers, without lifting his head, fixing her with a serpentine gaze.

“You do yourself a disservice, Brunn.”

Brunnhilde paused, a little surprised by his quiet vehemence.

She shrugged it away.

“This is just not something I’m suited for. Politics and subterfuge and spywork. Moving the pieces by moving entirely different ones, lightyears away. It’s like my sisters, and their lacework,” she admitted blithely. “I understand the theory. But even if you had told me where this was going, I wouldn’t know enough to tell if you were lying.”

But.

Brunnhilde wasn’t entirely ignorant to Loki’s plans. She had made certain of it.

She had heard the gossip, on dozens of planets across the Nine. The arm ring not only shielded her from Heimdall’s sight, but also from the perils of using the secret passageways that were specked across Asgard- allowing her to move freely between worlds, at Loki’s direction.

Steadily, disparate pieces and seemingly unconnected incidents were coalescing, into a clear picture.

Muspelheim had struck an unexpected trade deal with Ria. When the revival of the disused trade route had attracted Marauders and Ravagers, a new defence coalition had formed, stationed at crucial waypoints to prevent piracy and smuggling.

The Crown Prince of Vanaheim had headed a diplomatic envoy to Alfheim. By the time he had arrived, Niflheim’s queen just so happened to be also be visiting her fellow monarch. The triumvirate meeting occurred without a single Asgardian dignitary present.

A few weeks later, the realm of the light elves had also hosted several representatives of dwarven guilds.

The Nova-Kree War was turning cold. The Nine had become neutral ground. The Nova Corps had offered aid to those on the outskirts and most affected by raids, and had sent engineers to retrofit their older, short-haul vessels with swifter engines and stronger defences. The Kree were in tentative talks with Nidarvellir, to have the dwarves invest in maintaining local jump points, in exchange for Kree arms to protect their merchant fleets.

The realms were moving, like the interlocking turn of dials and gears. And for the first time in millennia, Asgard was excluded from its workings.

And it was Loki’s doing.

At his instruction, Brunnhilde had bribed and baited Ravagers to harass Nidarvellir trade routes. She had placed bets at various ports, on the likelihood of a Kree civil war. She had sold information on Knowhere, changed figures on shipping manifestos, stirred up bar fights and complained about the export tax on goods out of Ria, destroyed shipments and switched documents and delayed correspondence, paid off and blackmailed and persuaded civil servants and stewards and aides into suggesting or omitting a minor detail from a report, or handing a project to a different department.

Brunnhilde was the stage hand in a great, orchestrated play. The Nine were being gently herded into a strengthening current- one that was looking outwards, into a galaxy where the balance of power was shifting.

It was a coup.

And Loki hadn’t even left his cell.

Brunnhilde refused to be impressed.

After a moment, she realised that Loki was looking at her with a glinting amusement.

It wasn’t the kind that was intended to mock, but rather the prelude to bringing her in on the joke.

“Of course you can’t see where this is going, Brunn,” he said softly. “You’re the needle.”

A memory clicked into place, flickering in like guttering lamplight.

There was a bolster pillow in her lap, a lace pad template pinned atop it, embroidery needle gripped uncertain and rigid between her forefinger and thumb. The chatter and bickering and teasing of her sisters was a cloud of ambient sound that seemed to glow like nimbus, in the apple-golden autumn afternoon.

A warm shoulder brushed near her own.

Gently, Brunn! A voice laughed. Treat your needle with respect. Relax your hand. The needle can feel where it needs to go- you’re just guiding it.

This is a terrible idea, Brunnhilde had muttered. We all remember what happened when Svanhit tried to teach me.

Stay away from my bobbins, Brunn! Came a sharp call from across the hall, to a few snickers. Olrun, Hervor, keep her away!

Brunnhilde had made to wave a vulgar gesture at her, and almost stabbed herself with the needle.

Needlepoint lace is more straightforward, a clear voice interjected. Brunnhilde had looked over to her- the glint of her needle moving in brisk freehand stitches, looping and tightening, all deft skill and focus, one moving part, one thread. You don’t have to keep track of seventy different bobbins, and the order you need to cross or twist them in.

Your prince prefers bobbin lace, doesn’t he? Brunnhilde asked, smirkingly.

Brunnhilde received a gentle, reproachful elbow to the ribs.

A flush, through golden skin, head dipping and pearl-white hair slipping forwards.

Prince Loki has a mind for it, she replied, deliberately and damningly neutral. The dance of it, the complexity- it suits him.

Well, what do you prefer?

She had paused, head cocked.

I like both, I suppose, she hedged. Bobbin lace is essentially weaving- looping the strands together, pulling them into place against each other. It tends to be- lighter, more of a fabric with motifs created inside of it. Layers of opacity. Needle lace is often studier. Like- scaffolding. The pattern is all that there is. And the needle has to work back and back and back to bring it into existence, to make sure it holds in place, knotting back where it has already been.

Her eyes sharpened.

No- I think I prefer bobbin lace. Needle lace is- putting a great deal of trust on just one thing.

Brunnhilde blinked back into the present.

Oh.

Loki had learned some lacemaking. He would have likely received that same explanation, heard the same comparison.

After a moment, she scowled, looking away.

“I still hate lacemaking.”

Loki laughed.

Worlds away, Astrid made a cautious addition to her list, framed in brackets.

(Lace).

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