Just a warning: the rating is there just to be safe as there are passing mentions to torture, rape, and death, as well as quick descriptions of Loki killing others. If this makes you uncomfortable or may trigger you, please be warned about it ahead of time and possible steer clear.
Loki had been sneaking down to Midgard for some time now, often when he needed a break from Thor's idiotic tendencies, his father's constant ravings about how excellent of a king his eldest son was going to make, or the trivial tauntings of the Warriors Three and Sif. Somedays he just needed a break from it all, all the pomp and glory of the Aesir, and the way they seemed to hold themselves as though the very rising of the sun and moons depended on them. Pathetic, all of them. On Midgard things were so very simple, and though he was not a man yet Loki had become very good at traversing between the two worlds. This time he'd found a place steeped in winter, the cold wind a welcoming relief from the heat that always seemed to envelop the golden citadel, and as he walked he allowed himself to smile at the way it played through his growing black hair and whipped his black cloak around his body. It was the dead of night and Loki, tall though he was, was accustomed to fitting into the shadows, so when he caught sight of a young woman, looking younger than he was, with her arms wrapped around her sides thin, trembling, in the snow he took pause and shadowed himself behind a large oak tree, green eyes watching as the small red head turned back to face the direction she must have just come from. The poor thing was small and shivering, wearing nothing but scraps and bleeding, it seemed, from between her legs, the red so stark on her skin it looked like fire. It dipped Loki's heart in anger and yet before he could say anything there were the cries of dogs and shouts of men coming from the direction she'd stared in. She shuddered and forced herself to her feet, bare Loki noticed with surprise. How was she still alive in such cold, harsh conditions? Without even noticing him she began to run, the limp in her gait doing nothing to slow her down, but it was not enough to keep the dogs from finding her. The scent of her blood was too strong, and while Loki followed after silently it was not long until the girl was caught.
"You really think a second escape attempt was a good idea, Natasha?" One of the men growled, his voice ringing through the empty forest. Natasha. So the young woman had a name.
She snarled, brought back into Loki's view as the man who'd caught her led her by the hair, his hand fisted in her long locks so hard that the Asgardian prince was amazed they hadn't ripped her hair out yet. His own eyes narrowed, heart jumping into his throat.
"Leave me alone! Let me go!" She shouted, kicking out at him and managing to land her heel into his kneecap. The man winced and went down, but two more set upon her, releasing the dogs in the process. Not that they seemed to care, and the beasts knew better than to run too far it seemed. "I'm not going back-I'd rather die!"
"You'll be lucky to be dead by the time Ivan's done with you," one of the other men snarled, his hand hitting her face hard enough to make her gasp as her head snapped to the side.
"Enough."
Loki wasn't sure where the strength in his voice had come from, or even when he'd opened his mouth to say something, only that he was stepping towards the now surprised and guarded group. Natasha's eyes, deep blue and stormy with fear and anger, snapped to his, her mouth pressed into a hard line. There was a trail of blood from the already blossoming bruise on her cheek. It only stiffened Loki's resolve.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" It was the man Natasha had kicked in the knee that responded first, his eyes narrowed as he pulled out a gun. Loki stifled the urge to roll his eyes. Please. As if mortal weapons could work on him. When he didn't answer but kept stepping forward the man sought to test that, firing a warning shot at Loki's feet. The bullets bounced off, falling uselessly into the snow.
The man swore. "What the fuck are you?" He demanded, and Loki was pleased to hear the fear creeping into his voice, watch it close in over his face. Good. He was finally getting some idea of what he was dealing with. Loki's lips twisted into a cruel smirk as he kept stepping forward, forcing the man back while his comrades watched. One of them, the quietest it seemed, rushed to try and stab Loki in the back, the knife thin and glinting as it swung through the air. The young god flipped him over and threw him into a tree without a second thought, splintering the wood as one of the thicker branches pushed its way through the man's chest. His eyes went dark a moment later.
The man with the gun swore and tried firing more on Loki, but each time the bullets did nothing. While his attention was focused on his attacker, the man with Natasha in his hands started to run, trying to drag her away while she kicked and screamed. Loki would have none of that. He made quick work of the man in front, turning the gun quickly in the man's hold and squeezing the trigger with the man's own hand until he was pumped full of lead and fell to the ground.
The third and final attacker had made it twenty or so yards away with Natasha, the young woman doing everything in her power to keep them from going very far, biting at his hand when he tried to cover her mouth so that her face was streaked with blood as she cried out once more for someone to help. Within a few strides Loki had caught up and grabbed hold of the wrist that held onto the red head. She stared up at him, halfway to her knees, as he straightened the hand and slammed his fist through the extended elbow, shattering the bone as it pressed too far in the wrong direction. The man's shriek was music to Loki's ears and his fingers immediately dropped Natasha, who hit the ground with a quiet "Oof." Finally, Loki took the man's head between his hands and twisted, the faint snap of his neck reverberated through Loki's arms, covering his skin in pleasured goosebumps. He fell, limp and boneless, to the ground in a heap. Natasha scooted back on her hands and knees, eyes staring up at Loki as he advaned towards her.
"Stay away from me! I never tried to hurt you!" She said, making it sound more like an order as she held up one hand in front of herself. Not that it would help, and they both knew that, but to ease her mind Loki did stop. She managed to get to her feet and stare at him, body shivering as she wrapped her arms over her chest to try and preserve some of the heat. Without saying a word, Loki removed the cloak from his shoulders and offered it to her, his expression apologetic. He hadn't meant to scare her.
Well, maybe a little, but now he didn't want her to be afraid of him. He told her so, even allowing a smile to play on his lips as he introduced himself as Loki, of Asgard. The name seemed to register to Natasha, whose brows furrowed.
"You're trying to tell me that you are a god?" She asked, biting the inside of her cheek as though she was trying not to laugh.
"Can you think of a better explanation why the bullets did not affect me, or why I could toss a man that large without so much as batting an eyelash?" He answered with a question of his own, one eyebrow quirked. What else could he be? A slow stain of a blush spread across her cheeks and she shot a small, reserved smile at him.
"Well, thank you, Loki, son of Odin and of Asgard," she parroted, pulling the cloak over her shoulders. Her shivers ceased almost instantly. "Why are you here?"
"I want to help you. What is it you are running from, why did those men seek to hurt you?" And who was Ivan, who had seemed to be at the root of it all. She explained about the place she'd been trained, the Red Room run by Ivan Petrovich, a monster of a man if Loki had ever heard of one based on Natasha's description. He'd raped her, hence the blood between her thighs, and the longer she spoke of him and the horrors she'd endured at his hand, the more Loki's resolve stiffened.
He offered her his hand and she looked questioningly at it. "I'm going to take care of you," he promised, voice quiet. "Show me where this Red Room is."
An hour later the pair watched as the building burned, the flames bathing the training facility in its trademark color. The blaze had been easy to set, and once they'd located Ivan, Loki had allowed Natasha vengance of her own. Never before had he seen a woman take to a blade so quickly, cutting through his skin as one might cut through the wrapping of a present, grinning as he screamed and pleaded for her to stop. Her hands were still soaked in his blood as Loki held onto hers, squeezing it and looking over. He found that he loved watching her face contort with pleasure as she watched what had once been her home fall victim to the fire, the screams of those trapped a symphony to their ears as they had ensured no one but the innocents, the children and those forced into working there, could escape. All senior staff and tormentors, the guards and lecherous dancing instructors that had preyed upon Natasha had been collected and stuffed into the first room they'd set aflame, and oh how they cried out for mercy then.
When the building was reduced to nothing but ash and cinders the sun had already began its ascent to the sky and Natasha, now properly clothed thanks to Loki's magic, was leading him away, through the forest they'd met. They'd never let one another go, and as Loki looked over at her once more, took in the way her whole face had lit up and her shoulders had relaxed, as though a weight had been lifted from them, he recalled his previous words to her and vowed to make good on them. He would take care of her as long as she allowed him to. Asgard could do without him for all he cared.
A/N: Title of the piece comes from the song BTSK by MS MR. Fic requested by DamnitDesiree, who wanted a teenage Loki to meet a teenage Natasha as she ran from the Red Room, and I have to say that this took a completely different turn than I was anticipating! I hope you like it, regardless.
