A Patient Prisoner
That couldn’t be true.
After a year of forcing yourself to try and forget, to move on and pretend like whatever happened didn’t happen. After all these tears you had shed in moments in which you felt truly and utterly vulnerable, moments in which you craved nothing more than the friends you were certain you were never able to see again. After all this time you had gotten practically accustomed to the fact that you were most likely going to die early either way, having seen what nightmarish organizations such as Hydra were doing and have been doing around unaware people for years and years on end, knowing that a single slip up could lead to many people dying.
But the stars shining down brightly on your dripping wet form, the light breeze trying to dry you and the soft glow of nebula above you brightening your path. But the gold of the palace reflecting the vague light from the sky above, building in the distance growing closer still as you steadily moved along, watery footprints getting less by the second while you thanked the heavens for your agent-like suit being so terribly water-repellant.
It seemed too good to be true, yet it had to be.
———
You found your way back to the castle easily enough, avoiding whatever patrols might have crossed you in your way and sneaking yourself into the heads of others, getting them off your trail as you moved through the dimly lit corridors all the way to the entrance of the dungeons.
The much too loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage hurt you almost physically, drumming against your ribs as if ambient drums. At times you could honestly but wonder, how your heartbeat hadn’t already alerted everyone across the entire galaxy of your whereabouts—even though, after all the times on your ‘easy’ missions with Evan, asking him about whether he could hear your heartbeat for it was all you had heard, it should have been clear that you were only overreacting. In all honesty, every situation regarding your newfound espionage profession made your heart pound so harshly you feared going into cardiac arrest on a regular basis.
You fiercely shook your head, ridding the thoughts spiraling into palpable panic and instead picking up your pace. Focus, you muttered, focus on what’s important.
After all this time surrounded by agents it was safe to say that you had partially lost your conscience when it came to using your abilities. Not completely so, but in important situations and for mundane tasks only—such as avoiding attention by distracting the people in question—you seemed much too relaxed about using something that could be alarmingly dangerous if placed in the wrong hands.
You almost startled before pulling yourself into a little alcove amidst the wall, halting your breath as you pushed yourself against the stone. Invisibility, you mused, would have been much more useful than flight—a thought often plaguing your mind, but especially in that moment, as you saw a cluster of guards emerge from the staircase leading down to the dungeons. Quite a lot of them, stern faces on each and you readied yourself to use your abilities should the need arise. Luckily they seemed much too exhausted and distracted, and you couldn’t help but wonder—and fear—what had them so apparently tired out. As soon as they had sufficiently retreated you eased yourself out of the alcove, following the path they had come from.
Nothing had ever felt so familiar to you, as the staircase down to the underground prison. You could have blindly told which one you were on and how many you were down, the little bowls of contained fire helping to see despite you not needing them to know your way safely down to the dungeons. Even the slightly musty smell was a welcome one, for it was one more reminder to help you know that everything was real.
With a final step you peered through the entrance and into the room, cautiously taking in the familiar sight of prison cells littered all across in a tidy arrangement. You still remained close to the walls to refrain from being found out—even though whenever someone made any move to look, you had them immediately believe to have seen nothing. So much time had passed in which you were sure you were never coming back, time in which you had often beat yourself up about not even having been able to say a proper goodbye in the first place. You couldn’t manage to stifle a choked sob as you stepped into the open, droplet of water winding its way down your hair and onto the floor.
The tug in your chest contracted almost painfully as your eyes immediately flew up to meet Loki.
Loki, who was standing behind the glowing barrier with his hands touching the white, solid part of the cell as if caught in complete bewilderment, eyes surprisingly wide open and mouth slightly agape as the both of you stared at each other as if unsure whether this was reality. You could just tell how lonely he felt, how terribly devastated he had felt after you had gone and no one was left to visit him and it pained you to imagine that he had already been in solitary confinement for the better part of a year. Everything he felt flooded you immediately as soon as you had locked eyes, emotions overcoming you as you tried hard to ignore just how much impact they had on you. Noticing the shaky breath escaping his throat he must have been going through the same process.
Everything around you ceased to exist as you took hesitant steps closer towards him, as close as the barrier separating you would allow. Your eyes were still just as wide open as his, not yet trusting the scene playing out in front of you to be real, but you let your facial expression turn into a wide, contagious smile nonetheless, bright and filled with joy and mirth. You couldn’t help but note how his hair had grown since you had last seem him, from barely covering the nape of his neck to actually slightly cascading down his shoulders in dark, ebony waves.
“Loki,” you finally breathed, breaking the silence weighing heavy on the both of you. It felt great to be able to say his name after it had been reduced to a mere Voldemort-like, taboo topic to talk about during your time back on Earth. Some people had even claimed it to be a bad omen, to simply say the word. He took in a deep breath upon hearing his own name being spoken, having stopped midway through breathing in surprise.
He said your name back, barely a whisper, as if he still couldn’t believe his own eyes. It almost got stuck in his throat as he said it, eyes squinting while searching your face as if looking for a clue that all of this was an illusion; and you couldn’t help the way your face immediately fell at realizing that all this time locked up must have taken a gigantic toll on his sanity. What had he been doing all day? Reading?
There certainly was quite the stack of books in the corner, still. Even more so than before, literature of all kinds of sizes and covers shining in different colors littering various spaces throughout the little cell; the chair, the table, the bed, the floor.
“Sorry it’s just—“ You struggled to find the right words to say as your overjoyed disbelief was still stuck in your every little motion; the shortened breath you took as you formed a reply, your eyes as they restlessly scanned Loki’s face, the constant tug of your hands as they buried themselves in your hair— “I’m just so happy to see you.”
The distraught expression contorting his face fell away almost immediately, rare, light smile curling his lips upwards in obvious joy. However slim and tiny it might seem, his grin was filled with so much sincerity and happiness, you could have been sure your heart might burst at any given time from how happy his reaction made you feel.
“I believe you might say I am too,” he replied, his phrasing appearing to have retreated to being guarded as if in an attempt to shield himself from the undeniable distress your inevitable departure would bring. Yet the words’ meaning were clear as day—not even the darkest grimace accompanying them could have shaken the emotions you felt radiating from him, so strongly you couldn’t believe you had ever dared to try and forget it.
As if wanting to disperse the tension created by both of your honesty he moved on, gesturing to you with a nod of his head and an almost unrecognizable frown, for his lips were still curled upwards.
“What is it you are wearing?”
The remark pulled you back immediately, reminding you of how you had gotten here in the first place—a fact you had forgotten at seeing him, alive and as well as he could possibly be while being locked up, and it took you all your willpower to actually tear your gaze from him to remind you of, yes, what exactly were you wearing?
“The Director of that secret organization on Earth, Fury, made me some sort of Agent. Or apprentice rather,” you mumbled, fumbling with the mask covering your mouth and nose to take it off and leave it hanging around your throat instead, discarding the anonymity you felt no need for while being near him, “It’s why I’m here. There were abnormalities I had to look at and I fell through a portal—“ At least that’s what you believed the reason for your sudden arrival on Asgard to be— “I think.”
He gave a thoughtful nod paired with a slight glare. “That man who had intended to use you as a weapon?”, he recalled, bite in his voice, disdain coating it, “I see he succeeded.”
“I’m not his weapon,” you reasoned, “I guess I’m...a spy?”
His expression did not really soften at your words, even though you could feel that he wasn’t inherently mad at you or anything of the sort; mostly confused. You wondered whether the both of you were even capable of hating each other, seeing as how you were being connected for all eternity. Must be a terrible fate to completely and honest to god hate a part of you residing within someone else. Would that be hating yourself or rather the person in question?
“It’s not like it was my idea, he did threaten me—“ You barely managed to catch how his face contorted to almost comical horror for a split second as you continued on— “But that’s not important right now.”
The incredulous stare etched onto his face almost made it seem as if he wanted to tell you that, yes, it was important. And with the words quietly echoing along over to you that theory was proven correct, no matter if he had wanted you to know or not. The almost verbal connection you had developed back one year ago seemed to be breaking through once more, slowly but steadily, back of your mind filled by his voice and you had no doubt yours was in his.
“I mean,” you stumbled a bit over your words, still trying to process everything and coming to terms with how your connection was strengthening with every second, “Technically I’m here because of a mission, but—no, it’s not that important.”
There was a smirk tugging at his lips, contorting it into a smug grimace, a challenging glint in his eyes that just told you he was not going to let you back out of it. Would it count as treason to Earth if you were to tell him anything about it? Not that it was any of your concern, truly, but it did make you wonder. One might argue he had a part of you after all, so couldn’t it be merely like telling yourself? You gave a snort at your unnecessary thought process and heard Loki let out a light amused huff of air as well, no doubt having heard you.
Lifting your gaze to once more stare at the prince you couldn’t believe how much you had missed him. As if the tears you had spilled weren’t enough proof of the fact, but seeing him made you all the more aware of how much you needed each other. After all this time the hole you had found to rest heavily in your chest was filled out, you felt patched up, almost whole. That was just what it was like, and how it would be, forever on. How you would feel with him, how you would feel without him.
And—you really needed to keep your wandering thoughts in check for Loki could easily read all that was going on in your head at that moment.
“Okay,” you mumbled, clutching your hair and silently thanking Loki for deciding to not openly address this intimate kind of situation. Knowing someone’s every thought left very few of the anonymity you valued, even if it felt far less necessary around him—it was still something you felt you couldn’t live without. Not after all the horrors you had witnessed.
You could feel Loki give you the hint of an understanding nod, concerned glint in his green eyes and couldn’t help but flinch and direct your gaze to the ground in response. All of this was definitely going to take some time getting used to.
To ease the tense atmosphere that had just begun to form after your mutual understanding of just how much you could hear and see and feel from the other person, you sat down on the floor. The smile on your face brightened as he mirrored your movement, far less hesitation than the last time he had done so. With that you started filling him in; On Fury, the organization, on Evan, your training and everything in between. All the way up to the current mission you were technically still currently working on. He truly wasn’t happy, but you doubted anyone would be after hearing how Fury had threatened you with some kind of torture device crafted specifically for mind readers.
In return he told you what he had done while you were gone—and everything he didn’t want to admit was spoken into the back of your mind either way. There hadn’t been much. You had been right for the most part, he had indeed been reading. At times his mother had visited as she had done many times before, and your concerns eased slightly at the thought of him not having been all alone for a year.
Even so, as you looked up from the floor after a moment of silence once you had finished talking, you almost yelped in surprise seeing the Queen herself stand beside Loki in his cell and immediately scrambled to stand. He didn’t seem nearly as startled as he turned to glance at her, only slightly surprised while he slowly rose to his feet as well.
“Your—your majesty,” you said quickly, messily curtsying while the Queen only gave a warm chuckle, panic easing away ever so slightly at the warmth and aura of familiarity she created. How did she even get into the cell without you noticing her appearing?
“I came to speak to my son,” she began, regarding you with a kind smile that further loosened your fears, a knot being gently pried open, nerves bustling and jolting with energy despite the blockade, “But as it seems he already does have a visitor.”
There was nothing but undeniable kindness behind her words as she spoke to you, slight concern coating her voice so quietly, you barely caught it. Apparently she noticed that you did—probably due to the no doubt worried expression on your face—and actually voiced her thoughts.
“It is dangerous for you to be here,” she explained, intertwining her hands over her soft, sky blue dress in a calm gesture which carried all her grace, even though you caught her lips thin for the split fraction of a second, “The All-Father is already truly displeased with the Midgardian’s, Jane Foster’s appearance.”
She paused while you processed the information, having perked up at hearing the name and silently confirming it to be the person you had been looking for—not that it was your actual reason for being on Asgard, you were well aware.
“I am unsure how he would react if he were to find you,” the Queen continued. By now there was indeed an unmistakable hint of concern in her voice and you couldn’t help but bite your lip under the tension. If even the very Queen was worried it couldn’t mean anything good for you.
Suddenly she turned, eyes widening for a split second before softening as she stared into nothingness.
“Yes, I am in a conversation with your brother.”
Thor.
Her expression faltered and in a swift motion she directed her glance at Loki, eyes filled with fondness and pure love as she regarded him with a slight tilt of her head. There was initial surprise tinted ugly with doubt radiating from Loki as he looked her right into her eyes—but it too, softened, as the seconds went on.
“I love you, my son,” she spoke, and you noticed Loki stiffening at her words, something inside of him forcing him to stay quiet, keeping him from saying the words he so desperately wanted to say back to her, “Please—“ Her gaze flicked over from him to you, before moving right back to Loki— “Stay safe.”
Before your very eyes she started to dissolve into bright green light, apparent apparition of her disappearing. Just as the prince had collected himself enough to utter the words he wished to say she was gone.
There was a beat of silence in which you watched Loki struggle at not having replied, a struggle only expressed through miniscule movements of his eyes staring at the spot she had been standing at mere seconds prior, as well as how he pressed his lips into a firm line after swallowing the lump in his throat.
You had barely managed to open your mouth, as a sudden scream rang through the dungeons, echoed along the halls and tore through your head with vehement brutality. In an instinctive movement you tried to cover your ears, but it was useless; the scream bashing its way through and into your mind like a battering ram was more violent than the one entering your ears. There was so much death, terror and panic all of a sudden as you struggled to keep standing, struggled to understand what was happening all of a sudden, strength within you barely enough to keep you standing after days of getting no proper sleep and the exhaustion from traveling through portals to the one place you desired to return to the most—
It was just all too much.
[Stay—me.]
A voice broke through the thoughts and pained screams and wails tearing into your head that weren’t your own, broke through then battle screams resounding through the room littered with prisoners. With energy you didn’t think you still had you raised your head, meeting Loki’s eyes—wide open, darting over your face in a rush as if trying to gauge whether you were alright. Shaking yourself inwardly as well as your body in a desperate attempt to distinguish all these sudden sensations, you noticed that the prince looked just as pained as you did.
This connection seemed to have more drawbacks than perks as of late.
Your name echoed through your head over and over as your bleary mind refused to focus on anything but Loki’s pained expression.
Your abilities. Your abilities were the reason he was hurting like that. Most likely having picked up on your unnecessary self-deprecating thoughts the call of your name in your head grew louder, more penetrating against the constant twist and turn of waves, of screams trying to drown you in their currents of terror.
[—Run!]
You were almost sure it resounded through the air around you as well as through your head, but you still couldn’t find it in you to break out of the haze you felt yourself in. No training by spies could have possibly prepared you for the mental strain of hearing so many people screaming in terror of their imminent death right in your mind, louder than your own inner voice, drowning it out until panic was all that you felt and rendered you motionless and frozen in place. Against all odds you finally turned, only to literally feel the color draining from your face until there was nothing but white, a blank sheet of paper where your head had once been, empty of thoughts, of anything but screams.
There was a creature standing right in front of you and not knowing any better, you could have very well declared it to be death itself. There were horns protruding from all over the creature’s body, colored a sickly dark brown to grey with red markings on its face looking eerily like bloody stains. You eyes shifted to look at the rest of its body as you still found yourself frozen by unmistakable, unshakable fear and couldn’t help but blanch even further at the actual, crimson blood splatters littering its torso, its arms, its hands.
Before even a further second could fall by, its hand was around your throat.
Everything in your head blanked as it lifted you in the air, as you feet left the stone floor beneath you. Instinctively you started clawing at it, your hands and arms locking themselves around the arm holding you to support your weight, all the while desperately gasping for air despite it seeming futile. Your feet, dangling uselessly about, forced themselves into motion as you tried to kick at the creature before you, tried to hold onto it with your legs to ease the strain your hands alone had at supporting yourself to not be hanged by your neck.
[Mortal—]
You heard it speak in your mind which ran haywire at its ugly tone, nothing compared to the soft, almost velvet feel of Loki’s voice echoing within your head at times. The creature’s voice sounded like nothing but rough sandpaper scraping over raw patches of skin, and you couldn’t even recoil at the sound as it sounded from within you and all your movements were reduced to kicks, punches and failing gasps for air.
[But not the mortal containing the Aether.]
Another voice sounded in the back of all the noise currently roaming around your head, a familiar one. There was panic, undoubtedly so, pained gasps following the words as distraught as yours and you couldn’t help but wonder, somewhere far away in the far recesses of your mind which were surprisingly active and bustling with thoughts, if Loki would die should you do so.
In a frantic effort you used one of your hands pulling your weight to grasp onto a knife sitting in a holster around your waist, pulling it out with shaking but quick movements and jammed it into its arm, hearing it crack as it tore through its ragged skin. A futile effort made purely in vain. There was a scoff as it used its other hand to calmly pull it out, tossing it to the floor with a clang sounding much too loudly in your ears, blood thumping heavily through your veins louder than it should be, yet the noise of metal clanking to the floor penetrated through your head like a needle tore through wet paper.
[Useless.]
With that the grip around your throat tightened, world growing darker as it burned, burned like literal fire entering your nerves and dancing with mirth, ugly smell of burning flesh entering your nose and trying to coax you to gag, mocking you for your terrible luck. Finally back to the place you had desperately hoped to return to, only to die at the hands of the very next creature crossing your path.
Dying right in front of the other half of your soul.
You couldn’t help the tear dripping down your chin in agony, physical and mental. Couldn’t help your eyelashes starting to droop against all the deafening noise surrounding you. But even as the world seemed to fail you, the consistent, positively panicked yell of your name and punching of hands against concrete, of magic surging through the air enclosed unfairly in a cell out of your reach, magic only to be felt through your connection with Loki—even then you were urged on to fight.
Overcoming your state of frozen panic and the definite lack of oxygen reaching your brain, body being purely fueled by adrenaline your hands shot out.
And grabbed the creature’s head.