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lovinlikeloki · 3 years

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The Shadow Realm

Masterlist // 01

Warnings: Violence Mentions

Word Count: 3.5k

I sit there in the cell, it’s been a few hours since we were locked in here, I’ve stayed tight to the wall, trying to keep up my illusions as much as possible. I know that it’s not important, there is no one here whose judgement I care for, but it’s a wall, a barrier, a boundary that I care for. One I want still standing.

It’s only now that I remember that there’s someone else in here with me. Loki. He’s just been told that he’ll never see Frigga again, I cannot imagine how much that must hurt for him. The one woman I saw as a mother, I am here because I am fleeing her. I am escaping my mother, Lady Death, but Loki? He adores her, cares for her, her ability to visit could be what would’ve kept him sane during our imprisonment.

I look up to him, he’s sitting in the corner furthest from me, knees to his chest, much like me. I raise my voice just above a whisper, giving him the benefit of pretending not to hear me, should he wish not to answer.

“Are you okay?” I ask timidly.

He lifts his head slightly, “No, I am not okay,” he says shortly.

“Is your head okay?” I question, “Are you completely... you?”

“Thanos is no longer controlling me if that is what you are asking,” he confirms, “What happened while I was being influenced is still cloudy in some places,” he looks to me with more purpose, “But with you it is clear.”

I have a small smile at this, “I was trying to break you out of it. I tried to bring you back to yourself, although I don’t believe you truly broke free until the Hulk... you know, smashed you into the floor five times in a row.”

“Not my preferred method of cognitive recalibration, though I’ll admit it did the job,” he says.

There’s another silence between us, not awkward and yet not quite comfortable either. It’s the feeling of seeing someone that you recognize but have no idea where from. The feeling of being left in a room with a family member that you haven’t seen in years.

After several minutes I raise my voice for another question, “Are you alright? Punishment aside, are you physically alright? Is your mind alright?”

He sighs and looks away as he answers, “Not as good as I could be, but not as bad as you might think.”

I accept the answer and silence envelopes us again. But it’s not silence; simply a quiet between us. There are many other prisoners, all making noises, complaints and groans.

I curl into myself further when I see my illusions melt at my feet, I try to make myself even smaller, take myself out of the proximity that will eradicate the one power I have left.

Then suddenly I feel it. A different feeling, a tingling sensation. It’s not my typical feeling of magic coating me but one slightly different. I move my legs slightly and look down and my illusion perfect again, though my clothes are different. My dark and dreary outfit is replaced with a deep, dark red with gold accents.

I look up to Loki and see his fingers twitching.

“Does that make you more comfortable?” he asks.

“Much more comfortable, thank you,” I say, a small smile on my face.

“Good,” he replies and we are silent once more.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

It’s been a few days and we’ve both come out of our shells more. We speak to each other, don’t stick to our corners. It’s nice. If only a little, he cares for me, as I do him.

There have been good days and bad since we were locked in here. The good make me glad that he can still smile even while being imprisoned by the man he once thought of as his father. The bad... they make me wonder how terrifying it must be to seem so lost in your own home.

My life seems to stick to a steady line of numbness. I can be happy here and there as well as sorrowful, but quite often I just feel numb. This sliver of hell is my sanctuary. This prison is my freedom. My life is a contradiction, an oxymoron. I can’t help but feel that it all cancels out and it just leaves me feeling nothing.

Then I wake to see Loki, his hair a mess, and even in the dim glow of the forcefield keeping us trapped he looks quite very handsome and more human than I had ever seen.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice slightly rough with sleep and it makes my heart flutter.

“Morning,” I reply, my own voice still stained with sleep.

We talk for a while, about nothing really, mostly small talk to pass time. That’s okay, truly, because we’ve been told that we’ll spend the rest of our lives here, small talk will do for now. We have the rest of our lives to get into the deep stuff.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

It’s been just over a week in captivity when Loki truly begins to notice Helena. His mind still remembers her actions and words while he was being influenced by the mind stone. Of everything that happened during that time, Helena is the clearest memory he has.

He notices the beauty in her chosen appearance, something he notices parallels his in some places. He admires her eyes most of all, they are enchanting. They are mostly a light green, yes but there is a mixture of other colors hidden within the more you study them. If you look closely you can see hints of blue and in certain places even dashes of brown. He swears that they change in certain lighting, but he knows that his illusions are not wavering.

He thinks back on her deathly appearance, her true form. He cannot find the words to describe it. It’s both ghastly and beautiful. Haunting yet stunning. Every perfection has its flaw and every defect has its excellence. It is full of contradictions; it is quite literally the embodiment of death and yet she looks so alive.

Then of course there is her original appearance, her human body, the one she lived and died in. The waves of gold that flow down her back, the beautiful braids and curls that drawings in books simply didn’t do justice. The eyes with blue and green mixing to the most gorgeous hues he has ever seen. Then the sunkissed skin, with every slight imperfection, the scars, the freckles, the small blemishes that just prove her even more human.

No matter her appearance, not matter her form, Loki found her to be the fairest maiden he had set eyes on. He would never tell a soul; they had no reason to know. He would never tell her. These were just minor feelings of course, they had to be fleeting, they would leave just as quickly as they appeared.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

We’ve been here for a few weeks now and we’re much more comfortable with each other. I keep checking in on Loki to see how he’s doing, this is much more punishment for him than me. He keeps the illusion of my appearance steady and I don’t think, no, I know that no one has ever done something so kind for me.

I can now roam freely around the cell without worry of my illusion fading and now that there is furniture, a couple chairs, two beds, a bookshelf, I can truly spend the time while wasting my years away.

I would dare say that I am now closer to the dark prince, we talk more and comfort each other. He recommends books to me when Frigga sends them. Frigga has also appeared to us through illusions, she may be forbidden from visiting us, but Odin said nothing about magic.

She also spoke to me once while here. It shook me up a little because she knows. She knows.

I’ll never forget the conversation.

“You are a Shadow’s Child, yes? A Child of Death?” she asked.

“I am,” I replied shortly.

“You came here to flee her, did you not?” she said, a knowing look in her eyes.

“I did,” I replied, same rude tone as before.

“I am sorry for how she has treated you, for how she has undoubtably abused you and your mind,” she apologized and I rolled me eyes.

“It is no fault of yours. She chose to be this way, treat me this way,” I insisted, “If anyone is to blame, it should be her father.”

I don’t miss the look she grants me at the slight.

“Know that I am always here for you. As a friend and as the mother figure you deserve.”

I scoff at the offer, “I do not deserve it, you should not offer it, but I shall keep that in mind.”

With that she bids farewell to us and fades.

She knows who Lady Death is, at least she will not deny her as Odin does. Still, her offer stings, it burns me for her to be so. Does she truly believe that she can make up for past mistakes? Make up for Lady Death’s treatment?

She should worry about her son, the one she gaslit for years and lied to for his entire life. She should be offering her sources and time to him, not me. I am a stranger who waltzed in and took up a cell just like any other creature in this prison.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

A few weeks later and I am laying in one of the beds as Loki reads to me aloud, he reads some of the tales he was read when he was a child, showing them to me.

I can tell what the next tale is from the smirk on his lips alone.

“The Daughter of Ragnar,” he announces, “There once was a girl with hair like the sun and eyes like the ocean, she was daughter of the village’s ruler, Ragnar. She followed him like a shadow, learning everything that there was about keeping peace with other villages and ruling the village they had. It was her dream to become ruler one day.”

I never quite heard the tale before, I lived it, what need was there to watch the re-runs? But there’s something about hearing it narrated in the stoic prince’s voice that made me smile, though I knew I was painted as a villain.

“The village was skeptical of her plans to be ruler and so they brought their concerns to Ragnar’s attention. When he had heard of their woes he decided, she shall not be the ruler, but her brother shall. Ragnar’s daughter was furious, enraged by the news that she received on the birthday of which she came of age.”

It’s strange to hear the perspective shown, the differences in what is truth and what is fiction. The village never had any worries about my rule, in fact most were quite pleased by the idea. It was my father’s decision and my father’s decision alone. It wasn’t the village’s safety that stopped my rule, it was sexism. My father would never allow a woman to rule.

“She became vengeful. A spark ignited within her and that hatched her plan of attack. She gathered every stick, every branch and every log she could find. She set them alight. Burning everything to the ground. Every house, every crop, every animal. Every person.”

I was a child, barely eighteen years old. I was raised in a village of savages. I cannot be to blame for my actions. I may have died with a corrupted heart, but it was corrupted long before my blaze.

“Even she became a victim to the blaze. In her haste to trap everyone and everything in the scorching blaze she had forgotten to escape herself. And so there were no survivors of the wrath of Ragnar’s Daughter. Let this be a warning to all young maidens, those who want to rule, and those who want revenge. Do not try to step out of place, lest you suffer like Ragnar’s daughter.”

When he finishes, I can’t stop myself from chuckling. He turns to me with a smile, “What is it?”

“They could not have butchered my story more!” I scoff, “I did not shadow my father, he gave me work. I settled disputes between villagers, I offered strategies for attacks. I would’ve been the perfect candidate for ruler, even other villagers thought so too, they did not fear my rule.”

“Then why were you denied?” he asks.

“Blatant sexism,” I say, thinking it obvious, “My father appreciated my work until I would’ve been seen for it. Women are to be seen, not heard. He made his decision in spite of others’ opinions.”

“I am truly sorry for the fictions with which you are portrayed, Lena, you shouldn’t be shown as dark as you are,” he apologizes and I smile.

“You only think that I am misrepresented, you should here what the Midgardians think of you,” I tell him with a smile. He nods at me to go on and I smirk, “For example, they believe you to have conceived a horse.”

“They believe I conceived a horse?2 he all but shrieks.

“With eight legs,” I say, matter-of-factly.

“Eight legs?” he exclaims.

“Oh, and you were a female horse at the time,” I add on.

“What?” he laughs, “Wherever did they get the idea?”

“I have no idea, but I enjoy their thoughts immensely. That is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to wildly incorrect ‘myths’ about you.”

“Oh please, I beg you tell me more,” he smiles.

And so I do, I go on to list as many myths the Midgardians have made about the man as I can think of, all varying in their unbelievability. We have a good time laughing at the hysterical ideas that they have.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

We’re prisoners for a few months when I awake one morning and watch Loki. When I see him I truly understand what Shakespeare meant. The Scottish playwright once wrote ‘The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman’ and I must agree. The prince of darkness, so to speak, has been nothing but chivalrous and kind to me.

He has kept my illusions our entire stay, he has given me books, even ones with annotations that he wrote himself, he has checked in with me just as I have him and he always allows me to privacy if I so wish.

I think it is now that I have truly fallen for him. For the past millennia I have been in love with the idea of Loki, with the idea of the dark prince that I had formed in my head. Through the stories about him and the tales Lady Death or the Asgardian Children of Death had told. Now I know him. Some things have been disputed; others proven right. He truly is someone that I love.

I would never tell him this of course. How could I? We are imprisoned for life and we barely know each other; it has only been a few months which for people with life spans as long as ours is barely any time at all.

I lived with these feelings for a long time before even meeting the man, I could surely keep them to myself until my dying breath if needs be. Especially since there is no way he could possess any requiting feelings.

They say, ‘if you cannot be the poet, be the poem,’ and that is what I shall do. Loving anyone is a death sentence, and I’ve already got life in prison, I don’t need to add to that. For either of us.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

Loki watches Helena as she reads, she reads a Midgardian book that she requested Frigga bring her. It is a play, written by a William Shakespeare titled King Lear, he watches her eyes flit across the pages as she reads. The tragedy is in a leatherbound book, one that looks to be decades if not a century old.

There was a certain spark in her eye as she requested the tragedy. He couldn’t place it at the time, but he sees it again as she pauses over a line on the page. She reads the same seven words over and over again, even mouthing them a few times before she finally raises a quill to underline the sentence before adding an annotation and moving on. His mind begs him to ask and yet he stops himself from doing do. If she wished to share, then she would be reading aloud.

When she looks up from her annotation, however, her gaze flitters to him, not looking him in the eyes, but certainly in his direction. He almost feels paranoid, wondering what she is finding so fascinating, especially as it’s clear that she has read it before. The way she adds annotations in places without a second thought as she reads the next few paragraphs is astounding.

She seems to be replicating an old copy she perhaps owned, yet there are places in which she takes care. He assumes that these are places where she is having new thought, adding new ideas and remarks to her otherwise memorized comments.

He analyses her, the quick strokes of her quill, the methodical way she reads, a finger sliding down each line as she reads. He smiles softly at the way she has to push a few strands of hair behind her ear every few minutes when it fights its way loose.

Her mix between beauty and intellect; she looks completely stunning.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

After months of imprisonment I continue to think about Odin and how to bring him down if I ever escape this prison. He may think me and my race a monster, but better a monster than an arrogant god. He calls me a child, weak and naïve, but I am more goddess than he could know, with a shadow as a soul and a heart of stone.

He thinks me an ignorant fool, someone who is blindly following the instructions of a false deity. I know more than he thinks, and I found it out a long time ago. He should only judge me when he himself is perfect.

I know his past; I know it better than most and that is because I have spoken to the survivors of his tyranny. When I read the tales of his wars I always remember, history is written by the victors and until the lion learns to write, stories will always glorify the hunter.

I spoke to Loki briefly about Odin, but I understand that it is difficult for him because of his past. He doesn’t join the Odin bashing quite so enthusiastic though, probably still feeling some unresolved, not love per se, but required adoration for his so-called parents. It also explains his continues love for Frigga, though he seems to be losing his patience with her as of late.

I believe that the only punishment fit for the Allfather is for karma to take its course, turn the tables on the king. See how he would feel should someone take the throne from him, let him suffer while someone sits at the top of his hill.

One day, I will break out, and I will do unto him as he has done unto me. Unto us.

༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺

One day I look at Loki and I feel it. I feel everything. The tingling of his magic as it clings to my form. I feel the comfort is his company even though we are sitting in silence. I feel at home in the chaos that we have in the containment of our cell.

I know that there are days that he is lost in his own home, but there are also days in which he makes me feel at home in this place where I am lost. He has a power like no other. Better than Lady Death. Better than my sisters of Death. He has the power to make me feel... safe.

Safe is something I have not felt in a long time, centuries perhaps. His ability to put me at ease is... incredible, especially for the length of our acquaintanceship.

I can only hope that I give a similar comfort to him, he is keeping me sane while we are kept here. While this may be where I want to be, I would not be sane if I were here alone. If not for my connection to Loki, then I would undoubtably be in a cell alone with no furnishing or fancy books to keep me myself.

I would be alone, alone and breaking down. My only thoughts would be how I was free of her, free from my mistress, free from her terror. That would not keep me sane forever. If anything, it would drive me to madness even faster.

As I lay on the bed, I think about how he is helping. He helps make hell feel like home. Helps me heal. Helps me feel alive.

He is keeping me, the undead, alive.

#loki laufetson x reader #loki laufeyson x oc #loki x oc #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #helena maddidottir #the shadow realm #the umbra pentalogy #jynx writes

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