Shared Sensations
With a leap you fell out of bed, harsh and sudden contact with the floor nothing to you as your hands moved all across your face, making sure you were actually you, you were fine. Tears welled up without any thought, overflowing from your eyes and dripping down your face in thick, heavy streams, one after the other.
You could still remember being torn apart, being unmade. Being destroyed from the inside out, set together anew. You could still hear Thanos’ voice echoing in your broken and cloudy mind, so much so that you didn’t notice the silent call resonating along with it, low rumble of the titan’s voice prompting you to grip, almost claw your head in trying to make it stop.
Thanos.
That name came to you just as the memory had, feeling as if you had known it for years, despite having heard it for the first time. It repeated over and over in your mind, the whimpers escaping your dry throat unable to drown out the screams you could still hear from what you had witnessed, unable to drown out the voice of the one person you had talked through a nightmare, that had talked to you until late at night—the voice of a person that shared a part of your soul, and vice versa.
You couldn’t drown out his voice all warped and garbled, petrified and enraged as he screamed for his life whilst being unmade.
All of it was loud enough to make you not hear the door barreling open and practically slamming against the wall in a rush, loud enough to barely even make you feel the sensation of someone gently clutching your shoulders and speaking to you, shaking you, hand moving to calmly stroke your arm.
“It’s me, please,” a soft, petrified voice spoke, “Please calm down, breathe with me, alright?”
Numbers were counted, over and over until you could finally comprehend them, finally comprehend what was going on, taking deep breaths in and deep breaths out, focusing on the feeling of your expanding and deflating lungs rather than on the desperate cries, focusing on your heart beating in your chest until you noticed how it slowed, further and further down so much you could begin to once more hear your own thoughts.
You blinked through your tears, first noting her brown hair in a messy bun on her head before your vision cleared enough to barely notice her face; the sunken eyes with the dark bags, the palish skin, tired expression and disheveled blue clothes.
“Ten seconds, alright?” you heard her speak again, nodding your head and doing as she told, holding your breath while she moved one hand to visibly help you count. The turmoil inside you raged on even as your thoughts began to clear up, clear enough for you to notice a voice breaking through in its midst; tearing through like a reporter through radio static once the reception was at its limit.
A teardrop slid to the floor as you once more heard his voice, barely.
[—you alright?]
He almost sounded pained himself and it reminded you way too much of what you had seen, what you had felt mere moments ago, forcing you to grit you teeth as you imagined building a wall around your mind out of pure instinct. It felt almost natural, the sensation of separating parts of your being momentarily from his—something you had been doing for a while, albeit to a much weaker extent as you tried to protect yourself from other people’s thoughts.
There was distress seeping through as your connection faltered even further, until the only thing you could hear was your own inner voice and the noises of your surroundings.
Your desperate breathing. Your thumping heart. Aldís voice in your ear.
You focused on that instead, until you could actively make out Aldís in front of you, still gripping your shoulders. There was a spark of recognition as she noticed you were back from your panicked inner isolation, her hand moving as she held the back of it against your forehead, checking your temperature, quickly moving to your wrist and checking your pulse.
“It is alright,” she cooed, taking your trembling hand in hers as she noted it slightly hovering in the air as if reaching for something, “It is alright, I am here, don’t worry.”
She filled the silence with little consolations, never letting the quiet overwhelm you as she managed to numb your thoughts with her voice. You barely even felt the tears still trickling down your chin, falling onto the sheets and leaving behind littles marks, little reminders of the terror you had seen.
———
“One of his memories.”
Your hands were still trembling ever so slightly as you held onto the cup she had given you, stare blankly hanging onto the embellishments decorating it in golden swirls as if your only lifeline.
“One of his memories just...forced itself into my mind,” you spoke, shuddering as a remnant of the sensation crawled through your body like a shiver up your spine, “I still feel it.”
The pictures you had seen most likely wouldn’t leave your scarred and broken mind anytime soon. Just who was that man, that terrible creature? Who was he to hurt Loki like that?
You bit your lip as you couldn’t help but ponder—what you had witnessed was the moment his mind had been manipulated, without any doubts. The moment he had been unmade, his thoughts, hopes, worries and fears. Whatever he had been before—changed and warped into someone cruel enough to attack and destroy an entire city, lying waste to it as he watched his army murdering its inhabitants. As he tried to kill you.
Your name brought you back to reality.
“Do you...” she paused, glance falling to her lap for a second before moving back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”
You shook your head, feeling almost mechanical as your mind seemed blank, a mere unwritten white sheet made of paper, lightly damp making it sunken and slack. Aldís gave a nod, her eyes glistening with sorrow as her thumb quickly stroked the back of your hand in reassuring, soft and gentle movements.
After a while. making sure you were truly calmed once more, she quickly excused herself to fetch something to eat for you. You had declined, stating that you were fine, but she had insisted and returned with speed unmatched, presenting you with a steaming bowl of food and what appeared to be a batch of cookies emitting a pleasantly chocolatey smell.
She gently placed the tray on top of the blanket, taking some tea for yourself while you carefully got ahold of the broth she brought you, sweet smell further calming your mind.
“It contains specific herbs,” she replied, having caught your inspecting gaze, “They are used to help with anxiety and similar conditions.”
And indeed, you could feel the warmth spreading from your stomach help in easing the knot your troubled thoughts had tied themselves into.
Once you were finished she advised you to rest, collecting the cutlery and moving to leave you, but promising to return whenever you would need her.
“My room is close enough for me to hear your call,” she had said, “I will pay attention to it.”
Just as she opened the door, you spoke up.
“Just—“ she halted hearing your voice, her hand hovering on the halfway opened wooden door— “I don’t want him to go through the same.”
The taste of salt appeared on your lips as you felt them tremble, clenching your jaw in response to the burst of emotions flooding you once more. You heard the door creak as Aldís eased it closed, taking another couple of steps back to sit on the bed next to you, tray on her lap.
“I understand,” she spoke, sadness seeping from her as much as it did from you, “But I believe he has already made this decision for you.”
You glanced up, right as another tear dropped down your cheek, eyebrows drawing together as you watched her own teary eyes. Few sunlight tore through the curtains as it was close to dusk, yet enough sunlight to illuminate the already dried trails left behind by earlier tears.
“I am sure he would rather wish to know what has happened,” she continued on, voice calm and collected despite her obvious distress, “To him a piece of himself is missing, and he wants to know who he is—This might be the only possibility for him to find out.”
And with that she disappeared out of the door, little candle she had left behind for you to not sit in the night showing just how dark it had gotten. How long she had been with you, consoling you.
———
Despite the eventful day and you not having gotten any sleep, despite Aldís well meaning words to you, asking you to rest—you couldn’t. All of which you had seen started replaying in your mind as soon as you closed your eyes and you couldn’t help but trying and forcing your eyelids to stay open, forcing yourself to think of anything else.
Yet focusing on the curtains swaying in the gentle breeze, or locking eyes with the eerily illuminated painting hanging to your left on the wall could not make you stray for long enough from the problem at hand. Barely feeling the pull moving your legs to stand your body acted on its own accord, as it walked out of the door, past the twitching shadows hushing on the walls created by blazing fires and through the hallways lined with soft, crimson carpets.
Right in this moment you could only feel crushed under the deep darkness, feeling tiny and utterly vulnerable in comparison to the paths you were walking through with shuffling, hurried steps.
Where were you even going?
Shifting through your messed up mind you turned piece after piece of voice over voice and could not find a single trace of his. Where had he been while you had relived his memory? Did your connection make him feel your distress only or did he have to live through it as well?
———
“You are cutting me off.”
It was the first thing greeting you once you had tumbled down the stairs, even before you had fully entered the hall containing Asgard’s worst enemies. Not quite registering the pained loneliness dripping from his words and noticing the lack of actual bitterness you shuffled on, almost shielding your face against the hot flames brightening the path like you had been trying to shield yourself from his words all day long.
But being down here set your actual intentions far, far back, and so you said nothing as you crossed the few steps over to him. Said nothing even as you heard a vague intake of air coming from him, most likely due to seeing the state you were in.
Which was just the right amount to elicit a ‚I-really-don‘t-care’ attitude from you regarding your appearance. Yet you couldn’t help but feel the remnants of hysteria lingering in the way your stare was blank and unfocused, the way your clothes hung slightly askew across your shoulders and the way you could feel your eyes still burning with the desire to cry whenever your attention cleared for long enough to notice the Prince in his cell.
How he stood up more quickly than he meant to, how his eyes narrowed as he took in your appearance and his heap of conflicting emotions—all of which together was strong enough to momentarily break through to you, made you feel his reaction to what he saw.
“Why,” he spoke and you flinched involuntarily, causing him to pause for longer than he intended as he shifted in his approach.
“What have you seen?”
His statement was the first thing managing to actually pull you out of the trance you had been in since the memory had revealed itself to you and your eyes snapped up to meet his with sudden terror.
He didn’t look any better than you did, no.
Not emotionally so. You could see that he had tried to hide his actual emotions rather well by taking care of his appearance, but from what you felt blossoming within him like a thunderstorm waiting to rain down in buckets of water you understood that the link managed to carry across most if not all of what you had felt during his memory.
His eyes were just as empty as yours even as he narrowed them and through them you could see a mirrored reflection of yourself.
“What—“ he continued and you couldn’t help but flinch, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly stars began to dance through the void before you. His mouth closed with an audible snap as he stayed still, as he most likely stared at you expectantly instead.
“It’s—“ you swallowed, swaying a bit in your step— “Your voice. It’s your voice, it just...”
The hoarse, pained sound of him screaming until his throat was raw echoed once more in your head as you watched his perplexed reaction shift to barely veiled terror, and it was only then that you noticed the taste of salt on your lips. You bit down on it, hard, to keep the sobs starting to crawl out of your body at bay, preferring the pain in your mouth over the agony in your head as it kept you grounded, as it helped you discern reality from a memory that wasn’t yours.
Oh, but it was reality for someone else, wasn’t it?
He didn’t continue on but as you looked up through blurry eyes you barely caught the conflict raging in his own mind.
“Your memory—“ you tried to ignore the way your voice wavered and broke, displaying just how broken and scared you actually were—much like a shattered mirror, torn into fragments that seemed beyond repair and promising of misfortune, misfortune to the one, poor soul staring at the splintered shards lying before him on the ground. As if he was the one who caused it to fall. As if he was to blame for the destruction.
“It was terrible.”
No words could possibly be enough to describe just how much so.
He contemplated replying but apparently thought better of it, almost rushing to brush a black strand of hair out of his eyes instead and you really tried to not remember it falling in front of his face as his body was flooded with adrenaline, as he screamed in terror—
“Did you...see...anything?” you asked, breaking through the panicked voice in your head and hesitating just the slightest moment, attempting to accept being unable to evade his voice for the rest of your life.
Upon giving you a long, hard stare, he answered,
“No. I only remember deep anguish, terror and fury.”
His posture almost seemed oddly stiff, barely moving an inch as he stood still opposite of you behind the barrier, hands in front of him intertwined and twitching only the tiniest of fractions. He was waiting for you to flinch upon hearing his voice—and you fought not to.
“I see.”
There was a breath easing itself out of your throat, sounding like a broken wail much to your dismay and you moved the palm of your hand to your eyes, rubbing the trail of tears away.
The both of you stood unmoving for much longer, with all the hesitation lingering in the air rendering the both of you unable to talk, stood for much longer, until your legs felt heavy and you coerced yourself into sinking into a sitting position, almost falling to the floor like a heavy sack of flour being discarded by an exhausted retail worker.
Barely looking up you caught him carefully moving into a crouching position, pondering, before seating himself on the floor with his body leaning forward ever so slightly, hands on his lap. His skin was much paler than you initially realized, black circles lining his eyes not intentional as the both of you watched each other in silence.
You broke it first.
“I’m scared.”
It came out small and frail, as if you yourself had screamed through the memory—which, perhaps, you did.
“Why?” he replied surprisingly carefully, lacking any kind of sarcastic bite you were used to since you had come to visit him almost every day for the past weeks.
“I’m supposed to finally give you your memories back,” you spoke, eyes focused only on your hands fiddling with the fabric of the coat falling on your lap, “Tomorrow. At noon.”
The fabric was stiff and rough between your fingers as you clutched it, pinched it and drew tiny, meaningless symbols on it to distract yourself.
“I am sure you had said this to be something you wanted,” he replied after a few seconds had ticked by, voice velvet and soft but still feeling like sandpaper to your mind. Now you did look up, through the blurry, teary haze.
“Yes—“ your hand moved to wipe across your face in one, quick motion, hoping to clear your vision but only resulting in letting another tear trickle to the floor— “But what I’ve seen, I—“
You swallowed the saliva threatening to clog your throat, noting how your hands had begun to tremble and you clenching them to fists to stop them.
“I don’t want to anymore.”
With a breath leaving your mouth in exhaustion the fortress you had build up inside your mind crumbled to pieces and you only watched Loki as all your feelings and emotions filled up his mind, causing him to grit his teeth and close his eyes. The same pain you felt seeped from his face, the same shock caused his limbs to tremble and the same fear for tomorrow caused his breathing to quicken.
He attempted to swallow it down.
“You are hurt.”
It was as if he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to cope with all the new sensations roaming his body as he fought to keep them under control. A smile eased onto your face at him trying to stay casual through the agony the both of you were feeling.
“Yes,” you replied, closing your eyes as well, “I am.”
Only your breathing filled the silence as you listened to him growing calmer alongside you, coming to terms with your emotions as the proximity of your souls calmed you like a sweet lullaby.
“The memories,” he spoke suddenly, causing you to open your eyes and tilt your head at his resolute and determined expression while he tried to seem cold and indifferent—tried to appear as if he had managed to actually cope with all these emotions, “They are an essential part of me I want to understand. I need you to hand them back to me.”
“...Even if they’re really, really terrible?” you asked, and god knew ‘terrible’ still didn’t nearly hit the mark considering the sweat you could still feel pooling on your forehead as the mere remedy of that creature’s voice grew louder and louder. It made you feel like watching a fire spread in a house while remaining seated in the middle of it all, waiting to let the flames engulf you whole as if you knew you couldn’t escape—
“Yes,” he broke the chain of miserable worries plaguing you and encircling you like a snake its prey, “Even then.”
The determination had stayed on his face, green eyes practically glowing with it in the dark dungeons and calming you as you clung onto their light. You gave a slight nod with a smile, bittersweet but genuine, which he countered with his eyebrows drawing together in a confused frown. Aldís had been right, with everything she had said. Apparently she knew him much better than she let on after all these decades of their mothers being friends.
“Thank you,” you mumbled, quiet to not disrupt the sort of serenity covering you.
Water drops could be heard, forcing themselves through the cracks of the ceiling looming above, slowly dripping down and hitting the stone floor before further seeping into the cracks and disappearing from view. The inhabitants of the cells littered though the room could be heard, their snores as they were fast asleep through the darkness of the catacombs below the castle, dreams filled with hopes of better times.
“What for?” he inquired, voice just as calm and soft as yours and your smile only widened further in response.
“Easing my worries.”