The In-Between
Resigned to your weird inclinations, you walk down the unfamiliar path for a long time. Long enough to wonder whether it has been minutes or hours. It could just be you; your head still feels foggy. You can see clearly, but thoughts don’t stay in your head very long. Most float by without examination. So, you just follow the path. Though ‘path’ is a strong word. It implies something man or animal made, created by repeated and frequent foot traffic. This ‘path’ seems untrodden. The trees and shrubbery part unnaturally, far enough apart for one—or maybe two people to walk side by side comfortably. But the grass, the vivid deep green grass looks completely untouched by any feet or hooves or paws.
Several thoughts occur to you out of the blue and all at once. Where, the fuck, am I? How did I get here? And how do I get back to the dorms? How do I get back to the bay? Your familiar companion anxiety drags its vicious claws up your throat. Your breathing picks up, but the quality of each breath lessens. You stop walking. The forest to the left and the right look identical. So similar that after only pausing a few moments, you can’t figure out which way you came from.
Frantic and shaky hands pull your phone out of your pocket. Twenty percent battery. No notifications. No service. Awesome. This is exactly what you wanted when you left the dorms this morning. Ha. What a way to miss class.
As soon as you start to feel lightheaded, as soon as your palms are sweating so much you think they may start dripping, you spot something. A light shines far off in the distance. Your muddled thoughts wager that it is your best bet of ever getting back to your dorm. You decide it doesn’t matter if this is the direction you came from or not, something is making that light. You just hope it’s something good.
So, off you start in the direction of the random weak light. You know you should be more cautious, but on the other hand, you think you’ve passed the point of cautiousness a while ago. When you decided to go farther than you had before, that’s when you passed beyond reason. Your stomach twists with an uncertain hope, but your lungs clear so you push on.
Your eyes narrow as you look at the light. You blink. Huh. The light doesn’t look any closer even though you know you’ve been walking for ten minutes. A glance at your phone confirms the time. You squint again, the light looks farther away somehow. As if it’s running from you, not running maybe just walking, like you are.
You break into a full sprint, feeling hysteria rise in your chest. You clutch your phone tight even though you want to spike it into the ground. You’ve never been much of a runner, never been much of an athlete. You wish you were. If you were, you wouldn’t want to stop so quickly.
Despite the force with which you propel yourself forward, no progress is made. The light remains the same distance away. You don’t have much lung capacity left; you’re already wheezing a bit. You know that soon, you will have to stop. Just like in your dream, your lungs are being knifed apart, collapsing in on themselves. You feel a fire burning throughout the muscles of your legs, every footfall brings more pain. I can’t do this, you think. Just as you are about to give up and cry yourself to death, you collide with something. Something fleshy.
————
Loki centers his focus on the way the wind feels against his skin. It stings his face; it almost hurts to take a deep breath. He closes his eyes for a moment, to shield them from the wind, but more importantly, to revel in the distraction the wind and this ride bring. He lets Brygir direct them down the path. It is unfamiliar and uncharted; he doubts that even Thor has been this way before. But Loki trusts Brygir to not send them crashing into a tree or stop so abruptly that Loki is hurled off his back.
Loki tries his best to keep his thoughts away from Thor. Thor gets everything, he is everywhere. The least he can do is leave Loki alone in his thoughts. Thor is not here, Loki reminds himself. He opens his eyes with a bit of a clearer head. With most of his rage exerted in the ride, he feels much better.
It occurs to Loki that he should have brought traveling gear. He may have to make camp for the night. He doesn’t chastise himself for long though, how was he to know he would be out so late?
Not long after, Brygir tires. He slows his run and eventually comes to a complete stop. This stokes the embers of Loki’s frustration. In that frustration, Loki dismounts. Loki falls into a deep crouch and fists his long black hair in his hands, pulling it taught. He savors the pain this action brings him and with it, he feels his frustration wavering again. He releases himself after a few moments of deep breaths and stands, ready to fetch an apple for Brygir from the saddlebags. But when he looks around, Brygir is nowhere to be found.
Loki turns in a circle, and his brows furrow. It should be impossible for Brygir to have wandered so far in such a short amount of time. Loki should have heard Brygir leave, horses are not known for their stealthy maneuvers. Plus, only moments ago the animal was too tired to walk any longer. Loki closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath before scanning the forest again.
Upon closer inspection—though Loki is still missing his horse—he finds a faint light in the distance. A fire, he surmises. He starts towards it. Loki brushes his hands across his thighs to feel the metal strapped to each leg. This reassures him of his safety even if the fire is to have unwelcoming patrons.
Loki’s jaw clenches. The anger he cannot seem to shake on this day roars to a new height. Every time he approaches the light, it moves just out of his reach. An earth giant’s illusion. He reasons that is the only logical explanation. He thinks back to his lessons as a child. If one finds themselves caught in a giant’s illusion, they themselves must break it or be freed by the one who created it. It doesn’t seem like whoever is the cause of this is going to release him, why trap him in the first place then? Hmm, Loki thinks, how to break it. How to make it visually or physically impossible. He ponders for a few moments.
Loki heads toward the light at a breezy, yet not hurried pace, before turning on his heel. Then, he starts sprinting away from the light at full speed. He is willing to run as long as it takes, yet after a few moments, confusion begins to set in. Still, his pace does not falter.
Loki squawks a little. As instead of the illusion dissolving to find himself in Brygir’s company once more, he finds that the light is yet again in front of him. Distant yet close. Before he can reconsider his course of action, his path is halted all at once. He crashes into something smaller than himself, hard.
————
“Fuck.” You wheeze and hack as the air is knocked out of your lungs. There is a not-insignificant amount of weight on your chest. Whatever, no, whoever landed on your chest does not torture you. They roll off your body and collapse on the ground at your side. Your vision is blurry and your entire body aches. “I’m—” your voice croaks so you swallow hard to regain it, “—I’m so sorry. I- I was r-running—”
A smooth deep voice interjects, “—Toward a light, you could not reach?” The voice is masculine, it rolls over you like a balm for your aching muscles. It is accented. British maybe? But there’s something else there too, something you don’t know how to identify.
“Yes! Yes, exactly,” you say, heaving yourself up into a sitting position. Your vision is still very blurry. Your eyes blow wide, a hand comes to your face to confirm that, yes, your glasses are missing. It only takes you a second to spot them, just within arm’s reach on the grass. Lucky the green is so stark that you can make out the black blob of them. You slip them on, your panic is fully appeased as you realize that they somehow were not broken.
Looking around with clear vision, you find that the person you ran into is already on their feet. They are dressed in an embroidered green tunic and baggy black pants tucked into black riding boots. He has his shoulder-length black hair slicked back, emerald-green eyes, and a pale complexion. You find him very attractive, so much so it takes you a moment to connect him and his look-alike. He bears a striking and alarming resemblance to Tom Hiddleston, to the MCU’s Loki. Cosplayers aren’t uncommon in Salem, but you’ve never seen one quite so good. Regardless, you tell him your name.
“Loki of Asgard,” he replies with practiced grace. He sounds so natural saying it, you are thrown off. Thrown way off. You didn’t know cosplayers were getting so serious, but who are you to judge. He can’t really be Loki, no, you won’t let yourself believe that. It’s too good to be true.
“Okaaaay Loki. Heh. So, like, Marvel Loki, or are you just doing a mythology thing?”
He gives you a look as if you just spit in his coffee. His entire posture shifts, now exuding nothing but distrust and disgust. He is still beautiful, which annoys you. But more than that, you can feel your heart begin to hammer in your chest. Your hands feel shaky in your lap, so you grab at the grass around you. You begin to accept that this might be the real Loki, or at least something inhuman.
“Midgardian then,” he says. He turns away from you and quite literally sticks his nose up. He growls low in his throat, “My luck continues, stuck in Ver-ǫld á meðal with a clueless mortal.”
“Where?” You can’t stop yourself before the word leaves your mouth. But you wish you did. He turns back to you, his expression twisted in discomfort.
“It means betwixt worlds. We are stuck in a place between realms, between Asgard and Midgard,” he explains. He uses the tone you would use if you were explaining something to a child. Your expression hardens.
“Okay, great. Yeah, fantastic,” you say, your voice dripping with venom. You surprise yourself with your ability to talk back to him, “say I believe you? Then what? How are we supposed to get out of this ‘in-between’ place?”
One of his eyes twitches before both narrow to shoot you a harsh glare. Your tone, it seems, is not appreciated. Thankfully, for your nerves, you don’t have to endure the look he gives you for long. He dismisses you to begin pacing back and forth. “With mild difficulty. We must locate and reach the,” he pauses for a second, his eyes falling to you again, “—the light that we each followed. We should be able to access a portal that will take us to Asgard.”
He stops pacing. When he turns to you, he seems to realize, for the first time, that you are still on the ground. He extends a hand to you. You take a moment to wipe your sweaty palm on your pant leg. Not that you think it will help, he has very nice hands. Big, with long fingers and manicured nails. You take his hand, and he hoists you up.
Standing you can see he is tall. Taller than most people—you aren’t the best judge of these things, but he isn’t so big as to be entirely inhuman. He would stand out, though, literally. He is stunning. Your younger self would beat you for thinking this, but you find him even more attractive than his movie portrayal. Your eyes meet, and his striking green eyes enrapture you. It takes you both a moment too long to break eye contact.
Moving away, he clears his throat and continues, “From there Heimdall can send you back to Midgard.”
“Thank you,” you say. You feel deeply embarrassed for a reason you can’t quite name so, you continue, “You don’t have to help me. I couldn’t do anything here but rot, on my own. So, uh, thank you.”
Loki hums and laughs shortly. Heat rushes to your face. He offers you a wry smile that nearly stops your heart and says, “Right, I’m helping you solely out of the kindness of my heart and for no other reason.”
His sarcasm makes you laugh. You feel the tension from earlier—whether it was from the landing, or meeting a god, or something else—break. “Ah, it can’t be that hard,” you say with a hopeful smile.
Loki outright laughs at you, “Oh of course not, after all, catching it the first time was so simple, little one.” The nickname makes your knees weak for a moment. Loki’s expression has none of the earlier disgust it once had. Now, it’s so lighthearted that it fills you with hope. You are more than certain that you will make it home safe and sound with Loki looking after you.