Chapter 4
It was about the next day (or Loki assumed it was— there was no way to tell if it was day or night) that the guards came for him again. He had just been arguing with Brunnhilde again when the guards just grabbed him and left, his mouth still ready with stinging retorts and counter arguments. Struggling did no good, but to Loki’s surprise, he was not taken to Thanos’ chamber again. Instead, he was taken to smaller room filled with armor and assorted weapons.
“What— What is this?” Loki demanded.
“Take what you need,” one of the guards grunted, but would say nothing more.
Loki’s heart sunk. He knew what this was. He could’ve laughed at the irony— a few days ago, he was a better at one of these tournaments, and now, he would be forced to take place in one of those fights.
“Who am I fighting?” he asked, resigned.
Unsurprisingly, the guards didn’t respond.
In the end, Loki took two long daggers and a couple of throwing knives. The guards led him down a dark hallway (Why was everything here so dark? Did these guards not need to see or something?) and before long, a gate opened and he was thrusted into an arena. The stands were not as filled as the Grandmaster’s were, nor as diverse or flashy. The only observers seemed to be guards and perhaps other prisoners, closely regulated and guarded. Thanos himself wasn’t there, and Loki wondered if he even ordered this. The guards probably were allowed to do whatever horrible things they wanted to the prisoners. While the Grandmaster’s arena was filled with cheers and screams of delight, Thanos’ guards jeered and snarled at Loki. The god of mischief simply lifted his chin and portrayed the practiced look of careful indifference.
On the other end of the arena, a different gate creaked open and none other than Brunnhilde stepped out, garbed in full body armor. Her hair was pulled back in a braid that flowed down her back like dark river. She gripped a black sword, and, judging by the dangerous glimmer in her eyes, she was still stinging from their earlier argument.
“Well, the joke’s on you!” Loki yelled at the audience. “We won’t hurt each other! If you think we’ll agree to this petty fight, you are woefully--”
He was cut off by the flat side of Brunnhilde’s sword catching him in his gut. Letting out a surprised grunt as the audience roared with laughter, Loki fell onto his back to see Brunnhilde, not even faltering, swinging her weapon for another blow.
“What the hell!” Loki cried, rolling away just in time and leaping to his feet. Brunnhilde just snorted and swung low. Loki unsheathed his daggers and blocked her, still stinging. “Why are you trying to kill me?! I thought we were past this! Remember, I helped save Asgard?”
“And then you stole that damn Tesseract and killed Asgard!” Brunnhilde yelled.
“That’s not fair! I only killed some of Asgard. We don’t know how many survived. And anyways it was an accident!”
“Oh, alright then! Forgive and forget then, I suppose!” Brunnhilde hissed sarcastically.
“You seem to be unable to do that!”
“Forgiveness isn’t one of my stronger suites.” Brunnhilde parried and Loki dodged and flashed a dagger at her.
“Well, why don’t you just try to impale me on your sword, then? That seems reasonable!”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Brunnhilde ducked. “I think I’ll give it a try!”
Loki let out a snarl of pain when the sword cut into his back. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“You should’ve worn armor” was Brunnhilde’s only reply.
Loki bared his teeth and threw one of his knives at her. She deflected them and doubled her efforts, swinging and parrying and dodging and stabbing. Loki didn’t know how long they fought-- no longer than fifteen minutes, in all reality, but it seemed longer. Brunnhilde was relentless, diving in and flurrying and swinging and then jumping out again. Loki managed to hit her a good few times, but he was tiring.
“Maybe if you tell me where the you-know-what is, I’ll back off a little bit,” Brunnhilde suggested.
“That’s your plan? Your angle? Try to kill me unless I give you information? This is a rather abusive relationship, isn’t it?” Loki teased, twirling his daggers.
Brunnhilde let out a snort of disgust and slammed her sword into his back again. “It is a good way to let off steam!”
“This isn’t letting of steam! This is doing something painful with your anger! This is so not letting off steam!” Loki grunted as the breath rushed out of him, and all it took was a kick to the back of his legs to make him fall to his knees. The audience was silent, holding its breath, waiting for the final blow. Brunnhilde swung her sword twice more, slicing into Loki’s back before kneeing him in the chest and forcing him onto his back. The sand of the arena was clumped with blood (mostly Loki’s). Loki was sweating and breathing hard and didn’t know how Brunnhilde had managed to beat him-- again. The Valkyrie swung her leg over Loki’s chest and smirked down at him. “Now… doesn’t this look familiar?” Then she brought the hilt of sword onto Loki’s temple and everything went black.
=•=
Loki awoke to feeling of calloused hands on his back. His surroundings swam in and out of view. Everything ached, but his head pounded above all other ailments. He groaned loudly and tried to black out again. When his body refused to shut down again, he groaned once more and tried to roll over.
“Don’t move. It’ll make it all hurt more.”
The sound of water sloshing made him open his eyes completely. Stars, he was thirsty. Where had the water come from? He saw a cup of less than clean water sitting by his face, and made a fumbling attempt to grab at it.
“No, don’t drink that. Here, this will taste better.”
A different cup was lifted to his lips and he drank eagerly. In seconds, it was gone, but Loki felt worlds better. He hissed when he felt a damp cloth being pressed onto a deep cut on his back and tried to arch away from the offender, only to pause when Brunnhilde-- of course it was Brunnhilde-- pressed her hand against his chest and pushed him gently back down.
“So--” Loki began hoarsely, “one moment you’re trying to impale me and the next you’re comforting me? They’re right, women don’t make sense.”
Brunnhilde made an annoyed sound, but it seemed less brittle than the previous times. “Don’t be so close minded. Men make little sense as well.” She dipped a ripped piece of cloth and soaked it in the water before dabbing his back.
Loki gritted his teeth against the sting and instead focused on Brunnhilde. She was kneeling by his side, looking well-worn and gritty, but Loki realized that he welcomed the sight of her. The realization seemed odd, because hadn’t she just tried to kill him?
“I’m sorry about… this,” Brunnhilde sighed after a few more minutes of quiet.
“You should be,” Loki muttered sullenly. “My back hurts like hell.”
Brunnhilde smirked slightly, but soon her grin faded. “I… was just so frustrated. You weren’t cooperating, and they put a sword in my hands and pushed me at you and I just…” she shrugged. “I snapped.”
“I’m…” Loki heaved a sigh and looked away. “I’m sorry, too.”
Brunnhilde raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me? Sorry, could you repeat that?”
Loki huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Brunnhilde teased.
“For not telling you about the Tesseract. Look, I’m not saying I trust you— I’m still not telling you where it is, by the way— but… I had to protect the Stone. If Thanos asks you where it is, you couldn’t tell him, because you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t be lying, either.”
Brunnhilde’s hand had stilled on Loki’s back. Loki wasn’t facing her, but he could feel her eyes resting gently on his neck. He was suddenly highly aware that he topless, that he wore nothing above his waistline and that he was practically resting on Brunnhilde, her weight a solid reassurance at his side. He cleared his throat faintly, nearly imperceptibly, and Brunnhilde almost flinched and moved her hand away. Loki stood up and slid his garments back on when he found them in the corner of their cell. He fastened his cape, blinking quickly and shaking his head. Brunnhilde had turned away and was folding up the damp cloth. Without a word, she gathered herself and wandered away, leaving Loki to his confused thoughts.
=•=
At long last-- at long, long last, the guards brought food. It was stale and crumbly and moldy, but it was food. The refugees scrambled for it, scrabbling with shaky hands and peeling skin. Loki instantly made for it as well, but Brunnhilde snatched his arm and held him back.
“Get off!” he growled, straining away from her.
“Let the people eat first,” Brunnhilde warned in a low tone. “They need it more than we do.”
“They do not!” Loki protested. “I haven’t eaten in days!”
“Neither have they!”
“But neither have I!”
“Loki!” Brunnhilde snapped. “Stop acting like a petulant child! Let them eat first!”
Loki bared his teeth at her but stopped struggling. He looked on sulkily while the other Asgardians salvaged the edible and devoured it. The food was disappearing faster than Loki’s magic could have done.
“They’re eating all of it!” Loki said with a scowl.
“They are not!” Brunnhilde retorted. “Look.”
One of the refugees, a younger girl, had grabbed some bread and something that looked like meat and was making her way to the valkyrie and the god. Shyly, she offered it up to them. Loki gratefully snatched it up, while Brunnhilde gave the girl a kind smile and thanked her before taking her share of the food.
“They couldn’t have brought any water with the food, could they?” Loki complained when he was done eating.
“You’ll just never be satisfied, will you?” Brunnhilde sighed. “They brought us water yesterday. I suppose they expected us to save some of it.”
“And you didn’t?” Loki inquired.
Brunnhilde shot him a look. “I’m sorry, I was a bit preoccupied taking care of you, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten,” Loki muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”