Yes! Finished! she thought as she placed her guitar back onto its stand. The song still needed a little polishing up, but she could put the final touches on and lay the piano track tomorrow. She was exhausted. She had been working on this particular one for quite some time now, and finally finishing it filled her with a sense of accomplishment. She just hoped that the artist who requested it would be pleased with her work. It always made her anxious to turn her songs over to someone else to record. Would they keep her original arrangement or change it up? What if they changed it too much? What if they butchered it?
But it was the nature of writing songs for other people. Once her song was in the artist's hands, they could record it however they saw fit. Most of what she wrote was considered indie-folk, which was fairly popular right now, mostly thanks to the country music community adopting the genre. Astrid didn't particularly care for country music, but since many country artists relied on songwriters like her to write their songs for them, she had to at least appreciate it. What she did respect about it was its brutal honesty, its vernacular storytelling, and its raw emotions.
More often than not, Astrid was pleased with the way her songs sounded after their 'countrification' as she called it. Sometimes, though, her songs were unrecognizable, even to her. There was one in particular she couldn't listen to without cringing. Against her better judgment, she had sold a very personally meaningful song to the young artist who won that reality TV singing contest years ago, hoping she would do it justice with her vocal talent. Unfortunately, whoever arranged it for her completely jacked it all up, turning it into a pathetic anthem for drunken, wronged women to belt out at karaoke bars everywhere.
Shut up, Astrid. Just go to bed.
She slipped into her favorite nightgown, the lovely sleeveless one with lace trim. She brushed out her auburn hair before sliding underneath the bedsheets. It was an unusually pleasant night, by Florida standards, so she left the window open. The fresh, salty air rode in on the breeze, and the sounds of crickets and distant Atlantic Ocean waves relaxed her. St. Ormondville was quiet tonight. She had only just drifted off to sleep when she woke with the most bizarre sensation.
She felt light-headed and her entire body tingled. When she sat up, the feeling subsided. It was most strange and left her wondering if perhaps staying up late to finish that song had taken more out of her than she had thought. Or maybe she was just dehydrated. She decided to get up and drink a glass of water, so she climbed out of bed and headed to her kitchen. As she passed through the doorway to her bedroom, she realized that she wasn't in her house anymore.
She had stepped into a small, white room sparsely decorated with a bed, a table, and a chair. One wall was transparent. It wasn't glass, but was certainly some kind of barrier. Then she saw him, standing in the middle of the room, his back facing her.
Loki sighed as he closed his book with a loud snap. He tossed it unceremoniously onto the table as he stood from his chair. Being sentenced to life imprisonment in the dungeon was not as merciful as it sounded. Left with nothing but a pile of books and a head full of thoughts was nearly as bad as being executed, which would have been his fate had his mother not intervened. He began to pace his cell, recounting every event that led to him being thrown into the dungeon, locked away and forgotten by all save for his mother, Frigga. She used her magic to visit him occasionally, but he always pushed her away. He didn't want her to see his pain, his humiliation, what he had become. Most especially, he didn't want her to see just how much he really loved her. It was easier, he thought, to hide it all behind a facade of pride and arrogance.
Let everyone think him a monster. After all, wasn't that what he truly was?
He had been lost in thought when he felt eyes upon him. Mother. He slowly turned, but who he saw was not who he expected. This was a beautiful, red-haired woman with crystal-blue eyes standing in his cell, wearing what appeared to be bedclothes. She had elaborate, colorful tattoos covering her right arm almost entirely in flowers on vines. Her left arm was decorated with an assortment of swirls, stars, an antiquated-looking aircraft, and a curious blue box. What caught his attention the most was a vegvisir on her upper left arm. He hadn't seen one of those in a while. A Midgardian.
"How did you get in here? Who are you?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Astrid opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten here. Only moments ago, she had been in her bed sleeping and now she was in this odd place, standing in front of a complete stranger. Her eyes scanned the room for any clue that might tell her where she was. She turned to look behind her for the door to her bedroom, but nothing was there, only a wall.
What is this place? Am I dreaming?
This woman, this human... Her presence was a mystery. How did she know he was a prisoner in the dungeons? He could just as easily have been executed for his crimes, for all the humans knew. And how did she get into Asgard? The Bifrost or one of the hidden passages between realms? Moreover, how did she get into the cell, unless she used magic to enter, as his mother would? A Midgardian having magic strong enough to accomplish that task was preposterous. Wait, soul-traveling. Of course.
"Who are you and what do you want?" he demanded.
"I'm... Astrid," she answered, timidly, her eyes still searching the room and its occupant. This was definitely a prison, and judging by the opulent pieces of furniture, he was an inmate of high status. The transparent barrier, which was probably the entrance, seemed to have a golden glow about it. She also noticed markings around the perimeter of the barrier. Are those runes?
He looked down at her in disgust. This had to be some kind of trick. Did Thor and his little band of Midgardian misfits send her here? Or was this another of Odin's punishments?
"Why are you here?" he hissed, his eyes narrowing. She was here for a purpose and he knew it, but what that purpose was, it was unclear. He began to walk a slow, wide, predatory circle around her, looking her up and down for any signs of deceit.
"I don't know, why don't you tell me? This is a dream, isn't it? Aren't you supposed to be an embodiment of some part of my subconscious mind, here to enlighten me or something?" Damn, need to throw out that hummus in the fridge. The fuzzy spots on top should have been a warning not to eat it this evening.
"Are you really that thick, woman? Do you honestly think that I would fall for this little ruse? Why are you really here?" he demanded. She was beginning to irritate him. She did seem to honestly believe that she was dreaming, as her demeanor showed no trace of dishonesty.
"Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I would really like to wake up now. So, if you'll excuse me..." Astrid squinted her eyes shut and pinched her arm. Nothing happened. She was still in the same room.
"What in the Nine Realms are you doing, you daft girl?" he scoffed.
"I'm trying to wake myself up. I deal with enough assholes when I'm awake. I don't want to put up with it in my dreams, too," she explained.
Loki rolled his eyes. "You aren't dreaming. You're obviously soul-traveling, and you're too stupid to realize what you've done," he said. He could tell just by looking at her that she wasn't quite a solid body. Only with his magic, was he able to see her and touch her, where those who were not masters of magic would see and feel nothing but thin air.
"Excuse me! I'm not stupid, I'm just a little confused! I've never 'soul-traveled' before," she snapped back at him, making an air-quotes gesture as she spoke the word 'soul-traveled.' "The last thing I remember is being in my bed, and now I'm here, being interrogated by some rude prick, " her voice beginning to rise with irritation. She assumed that soul-travel was something akin to astral projection, but she wasn't about to ask. This guy was obviously disturbed and she just wanted to get out of here.
"You would dare speak to me in such a manner and expect to live? Do you not know who I am?" he asked incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest.
Astrid began to think. There was something vaguely familiar about him. He kept talking about Midgard, which she knew was Earth. Her mother's parents are Norwegian, and as a child, they told her stories about the Nine Realms and the old gods. She also knew that Thor had come from Asgard to help the Avengers during the alien attack in New York, so there was some truth to the old myths. The Realms were real, and the Aesir were real. The mass media had released footage of the attack and reported that Thor had taken Loki, the man responsible for the whole mess, back to Asgard for punishment. All footage of Loki, whether aired on the news or posted on social media sites, was grainy and shaky. She wouldn't know him if he were standing right in front of her.
Oh shit.
Loki saw Astrid's eyes widen. She had figured it out: who he was, where she was. He lowered his head, awarding her with an evil grin as green light passed over him, changing his simple prison garb into his full armor, the gold helmet with two large horns on his head.
"Do you recognize me now, Midgardian? I am a god and I was once to be your king. Now, kneel before me," he said as he moved towards her, towering over her.
Astrid simply crossed her arms over her chest and looked him straight in the eye. She had been bullied all of her life because she was so different. People made fun of her, degraded and humiliated her because of something she had no control over, because of things she had done in the past. But she was at the point in her life that she wasn't going to take any more shit from anyone, no matter who it was. If he was going to kill her, at least she would die standing and not on her knees. She wasn't going to let him intimidate her.
"I'm not kneeling to anyone," she told him defiantly.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her in, uncomfortably close. "You know who I am and what I am capable of doing. Does that not frighten you?" he hissed.
Astrid winced, but then her face softened a bit. She pulled her arm out of his grasp and began to speak. "No, I'm not scared of you. I feel sorry for you."
Her answer caught him off-guard. She should be afraid, very afraid. She was a puny human and he a god. He was powerful and dangerous, yet she didn't fear him. She pitied him. She was either bluffing, extremely brave, or incredibly stupid. Didn't she remember that it took five of 'Earth's mightiest heroes' and his brother Thor to stop him? There was nothing mighty about her.
"Such bravery..." he mocked.
"No, not bravery," she corrected. "It's just... I get it. I know what's going on. I know why you did it."
His curiosity was piqued. What could she possibly think she knew? Only moments ago, she didn't have any idea who he was, where she was, or how she got here. And now she claimed to know what motivated his actions? He smirked with amusement, eager to hear her explanation. It should prove to be a wonderful source of entertainment, which he desperately needed. The god of mischief was bored with books and craved something more exciting.
"Well then, let's hear it," he said, gesturing for her to explain her theory.
Astrid took a deep breath and began to speak. "Pain. A tremendous amount of pain. Strong feelings of anger, betrayal, fear, jealousy, and rejection. You don't know who you are anymore, so you let the pain take over and drive you. You're a lonely, broken-hearted soul having an identity crisis," she said, head down and eyes darting about, avoiding his gaze. Her arms across her chest, her shoulders hunched, she continued, "And there was physical pain as well. Were you tortured?"
Loki was taken aback. For once, his silver tongue failed him. She was absolutely correct, spot-on. The armor and helmet disappeared with the same green light with which it had appeared moments earlier, leaving him in the simpler black trousers and green tunic.
Staring at her in utter disbelief, he asked, "How could you possibly know any of that?"
"I have this...thing that I do. It's weird."
"What kind of thing? Are you an empath?"
"Sort of, I guess. But I think I know why I'm here." she stated. "To help you."
"Help me? How in the Nine do you think you could possibly help me? I don't want your help." he spat, turning away from her.
"You may not want it, but you need it. Give me your hands." Astrid held her hands out to him, palms up.
Loki turned to face her again. He wasn't sure about this offer of assistance. She was of Midgard, the realm he had tried, and failed, to conquer. There was no reason in his mind for her to care at all for his well-being. He gazed down at her hands then back up to her face, his expression doubtful.
"Just give me your hands. It's easier to show you what I do than to tell you. If I try to explain, it'll just sound weird." She reached towards him, offering her hands out again, hoping he would just take them. She already felt awkward enough, trying to help a stranger in her unique way. He wasn't making it any easier, for either of them.
"I don't need your sympathy or your help. Take your pitiful Midgardian magic and leave me be," he scoffed, retreating from her reach.
Why was he being so stubborn? He was in great pain and she could help him get rid of it. She had only done this a handful of times, and only for people she was close to; people that loved her and wouldn't think she was a freak. She wouldn't dare do this for just anyone, but she had to help him. From just that brief moment when his hand encircled her arm, she could see his pain controlled him. She could also see that underneath the rage was someone worth digging out. She had to try.
"Fine, I'll leave you alone. After you give me your hands," she said, still holding her hands out to him.
"You will leave me right now, you stupid girl!" he hissed.
Astrid was starting to lose her temper with him. He wasn't going to cooperate with her, and she'd had enough of his insults. She narrowed her eyes and stuck her finger in his face as she spoke. "Now you look here. I'm getting really tired of your shit. I'm going to help you whether you want it or not, goddammit, so you might as well just accept it. You can keep spitting insults at me, but that isn't going to change anything. It's still going to happen. We can do this the easy way or we can do this the hard way. It's your choice, but I suggest you shut your mouth, stop being such a dick, and give me your hands." Wow, his angry energy is really starting to get to me...
She had backed him into a wall with her tirade. Her face was close enough to his that she could feel his breath. He had nowhere else to move. He had to do something, whether it was push her away or take her hands. She hoped it was the latter.
Loki knew the only way he was going to get rid of this stubborn and foul-mouthed woman was to comply with her request. If he played along, allowed her to 'help' him, she would see how pitiful her magic was and leave, humiliated. He rolled his eyes as he placed his hands in hers.
A small sigh of relief escaped her lungs. "Very good. Now close your eyes for minute and envision a gate. I want you to open that gate and let all the negative stuff flow out, letting it pass through, out of you and into me. After you've got that mental picture you can open your eyes, but do not let go of my hands. Not until I tell you to, okay?"
"As you wish," he mocked as he closed his eyes. He was prepared for absolutely nothing to happen. But then, all of the rage, fear, loneliness, and bitterness he had within him rapidly receded from his body, like the ocean tide before an approaching tsunami. He opened his eyes as he felt it leave to flow into Astrid.
Astrid gasped as a thousand years' worth of pain hit her all at once. "Holy shit!" she exclaimed. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. The anger, the fear, the pain of rejection, the humiliation... it was crushing. She fell to her knees, still holding onto Loki's hands. She sobbed, gasping for every breath as she took in the last of the emotions.
Her voice was shaky and faint. "You can let go of me now," she whispered.
He dropped her hands, amazed by what had just happened. It was gone, all of it. He could think clearly again, he could feel again. A tremendous weight had been lifted from him and he was so distracted by the feeling of freedom when he noticed Astrid crumpled on the floor at his feet. She was on her hands and knees, crying. His pain was crushing this tiny mortal woman. He knelt in front of her, placing his hand on her shoulder. The sight of her struggling under the full weight of his emotions made him feel something he hadn't felt in a long while...genuine concern for someone.
"Are you alright?" Loki asked, quietly. Astrid looked up at him and struggled to pull herself upright, giving a soft groan with the strain, until she was sitting on her knees. Tears still streaming down her face, she choked the words out between ragged gasps of breath, "Are you ready to see my grand finale?"
Not giving him the chance to respond to her question, she cupped her hands and a dark grey mist began to fill them. It swirled and grew, like a fast-moving storm. It spun itself into a large vortex, stretching up above their heads, continuing to spin and expand until it nearly filled the small room. Then, like a dying tornado, it began to recede upwards, receding into the thick, rolling, grey clouds before dissipating completely.
When the last of the mist vanished, Astrid collapsed. Loki reached out, catching her in his arms. She was weak, and had exhausted herself in her attempt to purge his pain. And she had succeeded. He was free of the pain and felt more like himself than he had in ages. He pulled her in close, taking care not to hold her too tightly, as humans are delicate creatures.
"Astrid? Astrid... are you alright?" he whispered in her ear, his brow wrinkled with worry.
Holding up one hand, she answered, "I'll be fine, I... just need a minute." Then it occurred to her. He called her by name.
He felt her arms wrap around him, her face press into his chest. He wasn't accustomed to being embraced, yet it didn't make him uncomfortable. In fact, it felt... nice. He smiled as he realized just how grateful he was to her.
She looked up at him and smiled. "I've never hugged a god before."
"There's a first time for everything," he said with a true, genuine smile.
Astrid let go of the embrace, as she never was one for lingering physical contact. She was uncomfortable hugging unless it was someone she loved, and she had only just met Loki. To fill the uncomfortable silence that was building, she asked him, "Feeling better?" even though she already knew the answer.
He looked around the cell, still amazed that the rage and pain were gone. He only now noticed how cold and antiseptic it really was, even with his mother's attempts at making him comfortable with plush furniture and fine bed linens. His eyes came back to Astrid and the awkward grin on her face. "I didn't really expect that to work. Tell me, how can a mere mortal be capable of such magic?"
She shrugged her shoulders and replied, "I have no idea." She slowly rose to her feet and smoothed her nightgown with her hands. She felt weak, and although she stood up slowly, she still wobbled a bit. She really needed to sit and rest for a moment, but she had every intention of leaving. She told Loki that she would leave after she finished the purge, and now that it was over, it was time for her to go home.
Loki saw that Astrid was unsure on her feet. He rose and stood beside her; she shouldn't be trying to move around so soon after exhausting herself. "Perhaps you should sit before you fall?" he suggested, placing his hand under her elbow.
She waved her hand in dismissal. "No, no, I'm fine. It's just... that was really intense," she said, giving an exhausted sigh. "I'm going to head back home now." She turned to walk towards the spot where she first entered the cell, but stumbled over her own feet.
Loki's hand was still at her elbow; he caught her and braced her, as much as she allowed, as he guided her to sit on the one chair in the room. "Are you sure that's a wise decision? There isn't any need to rush off if you aren't feeling well." He crouched down next to her, his hand on the arm of the chair.
Astrid raised her eyebrows, surprised by what she heard. "Seriously? I thought you couldn't wait to get rid of me." She couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped her.
Loki stood and walked a few paces, turning to face her. "You obviously need to recuperate after your exhaustive efforts, and this is your first soul-travel. It will be easier to allow your body to wake naturally, so you will know what it feels like to re-enter your body. You'll need to be familiar with the sensation if you are to learn to travel at will," he explained.
Astrid shook her head. "No, no, no. I don't want to learn, I don't want to soul-travel. I don't need any more weirdness in my life," she said, leaning forward in the chair, placing her forearms on her knees. She had a difficult enough time dealing with what abilities she already had without adding new talents to the pile.
"You aren't curious to see what you're capable of doing?" he asked, cocking his head slightly to the side. "I'm willing to wager that you possess quite a bit of untapped magic."
Based on what he had seen so far, she had the potential to become a fairly powerful magician by Midgardian standards. He wanted to teach her to harness it, use it, help her nurture it to grow. If she could master even intermediary-level magic, she could be useful to him. He just had to convince her to try it once, feel the power inside her, and she would be begging him to show her more.
"Oh, no. People already think I'm a lunatic and a freak," Astrid began. "I'm not normal, I've never been normal, never been treated as normal, and I do not want to add more fuel to that fire," she said, her eyes cast down at her clasped fingers. She was babbling, as she usually did when she was overtired, divulging more about her personal life than she really should. Shut up, Astrid. He doesn't want to hear that shit.
This sentiment was all too familiar to Loki. He was different from those around him, not fitting the mold of an ideal Asgardian. Everyone, especially Odin, favored his brother Thor with his strength, confidence, and bold personality. All of Asgard adored Thor but overlooked Loki, who preferred to use his intellect instead of his fists. He had magic, cunning, and manipulation at his disposal, which made him invaluable in battle and were ideal qualities for a king to possess. Unfortunately for Loki, he was second in the line of succession, behind Thor. Always behind Thor. Never as worthy as Thor.
The memory of these emotions was unpleasant, but it didn't upset Loki as much as it did before because of Astrid and her unique ability. He looked straight at her, telling her, "You have a gift, even if you choose not to view it as such. And you should not allow the opinions of closed-minded fools to define you." He offered his hands out to her, deciding that now was the time to make his move. "I want you to see something. Give me your hands."
Astrid was hesitant. He was being nice, too nice, and she was skeptical. Yes, she had purged him of his anger, but this is the god of mischief, not known for being honest and trustworthy. She turned her head slightly and narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down before asking, "Okay, what are you up to?"
He put on the most innocent expression he could muster. "I simply want to give you a small demonstration of your magical potential. Perhaps it will change your mind about wanting to learn something new. You could be my apprentice."
"Me, the sorcerer's apprentice?" Astrid asked, beginning to snicker. "Do I get to wear a blue pointy hat while we conjure up some dancing brooms?" The snickering turned into a giggling fit, but seeing the confused and offended expression on Loki's face sobered her up. Clearing her throat, she explained, "It's an animated film about a mouse that... oh, never mind. You wouldn't get it." A sour look appeared on her face as she playfully imitated Loki's voice, "Pathetic mortal rubbish."
Astrid's impression amused him. She was teasing him, which meant that she was becoming a little more comfortable around him, which was a step in the right direction. If his plan was to work, he needed to charm her into trusting him, but he had to take care not to overdo it, as that would only make her suspicious. "Are you mocking me?" he asked, feigning offense.
"Well, maybe just a smidge," she replied, holding up her thumb and forefinger close together. With a smile, she added, "I was actually testing to see if it would piss you off. You seem to be in a much better mood. It's quite a drastic change from earlier. Seems a little fishy to me."
"You don't trust me?" Loki asked. Astrid wasn't easily fooled, which he could appreciate. If she were as gullible as he wished she were, there would be no challenge, no fun. It was just as much about the pursuit as it was the end result.
"Not a bit," she responded, shaking her head, "but that doesn't mean it can't be earned. Right now, though, I don't trust you any further than I can throw you. No offense." Of course she didn't trust him, the god of mischief and lies. As much as she abhorred forming an opinion of someone based on their past behavior, she had to keep in mind that he earned his title for a reason.
"None taken, but this is the last time I will make my offer. Allow me to give you a small taste of what I could teach you, and if you aren't interested then you may return to Midgard and never give it another thought," he said. He paused a moment, for dramatic effect, then added, "You helped me immensely, so please allow me to return the favor. Consider it an expression of my gratitude." He placed his hand on his chest to show that he was speaking from the heart.
Loki was good at getting what he wanted, Astrid would give him that much. She knew he had manipulated her. The thing was, she didn't seem to mind it as much as she should. Her brain was telling her to just walk away and forget this whole experience, but her curiosity was screaming something entirely different. This was a one-in-a-billion, life-changing opportunity that had presented itself to her. Learn the art of magic from the god of mischief, even though he's obviously up to something, or return home to her boring, predictable life? Go for it.
"Dammit... okay," Astrid sighed in resignation, pushing herself up from the chair, and holding her hands out for Loki. As he reached for them, she jerked them away, looking him straight in the eye. "I still don't trust you, you know," she stated.
"Yes, I know," he replied, nodding his head. He gestured for her to place her hands, palms up, inside his. After Astrid had complied, he began his instruction. "This was the first magic my mother taught me when I was small. Clear your mind and center yourself, think of nothing else," he said, adding, "You'll need to try to ignore your empathic sensings as much as you can."
"Why? So I won't notice that you're holding something back?" she asked. She had suspected that he was hiding something, and his touch confirmed that he was.
Again, Loki pasted an expression of innocence onto his face. "No, so you won't be distracted," he explained.
"Oh come on... It's no surprise that you're not telling me everything, but don't insult my intelligence by trying to play me. I have a very accurate bullshit-o-meter." Astrid had fine-tuned her ability over the years to pick out dishonesty; she had to. She was a sensitive soul and had to protect herself from being hurt over and over. She had been fooled before, and had been taken advantage of in a terrible way. Although she didn't sense that Loki was hiding something that vile, she did know that he was up to something sneaky. She would proceed with caution.
"Fair enough. Shall we continue?" Loki asked, hoping to avoid any further discussion on the matter.
Astrid nodded, noticing that in addition to hiding something, Loki was also feeling curiosity and anticipation. Or were those her own feelings? Sometimes, if she was experiencing the same emotions as the other person, it hampered her ability, confusing the source of the feelings.
"Now, as I was saying, center yourself and clear your mind," Loki instructed. Astrid took a deep, cleansing breath and did her best to tune out everything else. She allowed her mind to enter a meditative state. After a few moments, she looked down into her hands as a small green flame formed inside them. Her eyes, wide with amazement, briefly glanced up at Loki, searching for acknowledgement that what she was seeing was real.
"What does it feel like, the magic in your hands?" he asked, remembering his own first magic lesson. His mother had taught him the same enchantment when he was a young boy, and the memory brought a smile to his lips.
Astrid could barely believe what was happening. "This is incredible! It feels... cool, even though it's a flame! And it's kind of tingly, like electricity," she exclaimed. "But are you doing this or am I?" she asked. There was no way this was her, she couldn't perform magic, that was impossible.
Loki explained, "Right now, we both are. I provided the initial spark, but you're the one keeping it going." He removed his hands from hers and allowed her to completely take over. "See?"
Astrid watched as the green flame changed to a brilliant turquoise. "Oh!" she gasped, "The color changed! Why did it do that, did I screw it up?"
Loki shook his head. "No, this is the color of your magic. Mine is green, yours is blue."
Astrid was awestruck. "Blue, blue is good... it's my favorite color," she rambled, smiling from ear to ear. She had always loved shades of blue and she wondered if the flame was blue because of her affinity for the color, or if she was fond of the color because of the magic inside her? Whichever way it was, it was nothing short of amazing. "I have blue magic...," she whispered.
"Very good," Loki praised. "Now, extinguish it."
"What, why?" she asked, disappointedly. She had only just discovered her magic, and now he was asking her to put it out?
"Because you're going to try it again, without my help." He knew that her disappointment would be short-lived, replaced with pride and accomplishment.
"Um... I don't think I'm..." she started, but was cut off by Loki placing a finger to his lips.
"That sort of attitude won't get you far at all. If you believe that you can't do it, then you will be correct," he told her. "Now, close your hands and extinguish the flame."
Astrid found it quite easy to put out the little flame. She simply stopped focusing on it and clasped her hands together, snuffing it out like a candle.
"Good girl. Your turn," said Loki, watching Astrid as she took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders, preparing herself to conjure on her own for the first time.
She concentrated on willing the flame to reappear. Little blue flame, little blue flame... nothing. Her brow furrowed as she tried even harder to focus. Still no flame. "Oh, come on, dammit," she blurted in frustration.
"Swearing at it won't help," Loki said with a small laugh. He could see that she was frustrated but she had to figure out how to make the flame appear in her own way.
Astrid smiled and rolled her eyes. "'Dammit' is hardly swearing. If you want to hear some real swearing, I'm fluent in creative cursing," she teased. "Shall I demonstrate?" she asked playfully. She could cuss the paint off a wall and come up with phrases foul enough to curdle milk. No, it wasn't lady-like, but she didn't really care.
"I don't believe that will be necessary. You provided an adequate sampling earlier," Loki replied. "And you aren't concentrating. If I may make a suggestion, see the flame taking shape in your hands, feel it forming."
Astrid tried again, this time visualizing the flame, its brilliant color, feeling the cool, electric vibration of the magic. Finally, it appeared, the turquoise flames licking at her palms. "Look, I did it!" she squealed with delight. Her whole face smiling, she was glowing with pride, hardly able to contain her excitement. This was magic, real magic, not the sleight-of-hand stuff performed by street magicians, but true magic. And she had done it!
"Well done," Loki praised, impressed with her ability to learn so quickly. Conjuring the flame didn't take nearly as long as he had anticipated; she was a quick study. He sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the empty space beside him. "Have a seat, that's good for now. You've done quite a lot today, you don't want to overexert yourself."
Astrid let the little light go out as she seated herself next to Loki. "That was freaking incredible!" she exclaimed, still beaming.
"So shall I expect you tomorrow for your next lesson?" Loki asked. He was confident in her eagerness to learn; the ease with which she conjured, her reaction to her success. She would certainly be back for more.
Astrid smiled sheepishly and shrugged her shoulders, answering, "Yeah, if I can figure out how to get back here."
"That shouldn't be a problem for you. All you have to do is relax and think of where you want to go or who you wish to visit. Recall as much detail as possible; the fabric on the furniture, the way the shadows fall on the floor, the sounds in the room. If you wish to visit someone, see their face, hear their voice, feel their touch," he explained. His eyes lingered on her tattoo of a vegvisir; the Viking compass. "I have no doubt you will find your way back to this place."
Noticing that he was looking at her tattoo, Astrid remarked, "You recognize this, don't you? My ancestors used the vegvisir to navigate their ships, and I have it to remind me to stay the course, that I can always find my way through the roughest storm. Kinda cheesy, I know, but I like it."
"It's a lovely sentiment," he replied warmly with a smile. "Do the others hold meaning for you as well?" he inquired. He assumed that if she would permanently adorn her skin with a symbol of her ancestors, that the other markings would have a story to them also.
Astrid smiled. She loved talking about her ink almost as much as she enjoyed having it done. Tattoos were addictive; a healthy addiction, in her opinion. It allowed her to express her heritage, her personality, what was close to her heart. She started to answer, "Yes, they all..." but was interrupted by a bizarre tugging sensation at her solar plexus. "What the hell is that?" she asked, placing her hand over her abdomen. "It feels like someone's yanking a rope through my stomach!"
Loki knew what was happening and that Astrid would be leaving very soon; there wasn't time to fully explain the process she was about to experience. "Your body is starting to wake, and any moment now you'll be returning to your physical form. No cause for alarm."
Astrid's eyelids suddenly felt incredibly heavy and she had to fight hard to keep them open. "But I still need to tell you..." she began, "about the..." Her mind was becoming so cloudy, she couldn't quite remember what it was she wanted to tell Loki, but it was important.
"Until tomorrow, Lady Astrid," he said to her as she vanished.
Astrid felt herself falling, into sleep, into her body. She kept falling, further and further until she jerked awake, her eyes snapping open to see that she was back in her bed. Damn. She had been trying to explain something to Loki, something he needed to know. What was it? Oh. Sometimes, after she purges someone, there are after-effects. She had taken so much pain and rage from him that it could create a vacuum, allowing other emotions to flood in. It was too late to tell him now.
She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Last night was by far the most interesting, infuriating, enlightening, confusing, and awesome experience of her life. And she had to tell Cait all about it. Caitlyn would believe her, she always did. Astrid got out of bed, walked into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee, and grabbed her phone.
Loki sat in the lone chair in his cell, where he had remained since his visitor had returned to her body on Midgard. He recounted her words and actions, wondering how a mere mortal had been not only willing but able to help him. Although Astrid didn't trust him, which she was right not to, she did seem to care about his well-being. For all intents and purposes, she should not, and this thought baffled him. No one should care about him - not Mother, not Thor, and certainly not some Midgardian. He was a monster that had done everything in his power to alienate the few people that ever loved him. He wasn't worthy of their love. He was a monster that only brought pain and disappointment into their hearts. He wasn't even one of them; just an unwanted thing that had been abandoned and left to die as a wee babe, rescued and taken in only in case his true heritage would serve some future political purpose. Odin should have left him on that rock.
The damage he had inflicted upon his relationships with his mother and Thor was beyond repair. Thor had never once visited Loki since his incarceration and it had been weeks since Mother had been by. She sent him a few more books, but she had one of the guards deliver them instead of bringing them by herself. Loki knew Odin didn't care one whit, he never did, and as much as Loki told himself that he didn't care for Odin either, the amount of pain he felt when he thought of the king told otherwise.
He had been seeking his father's approval all his life, never succeeding. Nothing he did was ever good enough for the All-Father. Of course it wouldn't be; not with Laufey's blood flowing in his veins. If he had only been told about his true heritage from the beginning, if his parents hadn't lied to him, maybe he wouldn't have felt the need to destroy Jotunheim, to attempt to eradicate that part of himself which he could not change, thus proving himself a worthy son. He wouldn't have found himself clinging to the end of Gungnir after the Bifrost was destroyed, he wouldn't have decided to let go and fall into the void. He would never have been rescued by Thanos. Rescued, indeed. The very thought of that creature sent chills down Loki's spine. The torture, the pain, the humiliation he suffered at the hands of Thanos filled his chest with fear, covered his skin in a cold sweat. He never told a soul about what happened to him before he attacked Midgard. After all that happened, he was still too proud to admit to anyone that he had been tortured, dominated, bent to Thanos' will, all in order to secure the Tesseract.
He was a god, a prince, once a king; moaning and whining about the past was unbecoming. He could see how events had affected his actions, but those actions were his and his alone. He could have chosen a different path, but he did not, and now here he was; imprisoned and alone. He had no one to blame for his plight but himself. He slowly stood up, tightening his fists until his knuckles were white. He struck out with his magic, upsetting the chair and sending the side table flying off, crashing into the nearby wall.
In the privacy of her chambers, Frigga gazed at the holographic projection hovering over the fire pit in the center of the room. She observed Loki seated in his cell, ruminating over the events that had just taken place. After Astrid's departure, he had returned to his chair, a wide array of emotions playing across his features. Now that the pain and rage were banished, buried and dormant feelings began to surface from within him. Amazement and curiosity, certainly, but his face also showed signs of guilt, regret, and sorrow. Frigga desperately wanted to go to her son, to wrap her arms around him and comfort him as she did when he was a child, but now was not the time. If she appeared to him so soon after Astrid's visit, it would raise his suspicions. If he knew that she was the one who opened the door for Astrid, showed her the way to his cell, the entire plan could backfire. For now, she would observe her son from afar, using the illusion generated by the fire pit.
The queen believed in her son; perhaps she was the only being in all the realms to do so. She knew that Thor still loved Loki and wanted very much to hope that his brother was able to find his way back, but he had betrayed Thor too many times, going as far as to attempt to kill him on several occasions. Was there really anything left of Loki other than the murdering madman he had become? Frigga knew there was, and it would appear that Astrid saw it as well.
She had selected the girl out of a small handful of gifted beings from across the realms. Each candidate had his or her own unique talents and attributes, but Astrid was the best fit. She was a highly sensitive empath who seemed no stranger to suffering. Astrid would be able to understand and relate to Loki on a level that the others could not, even though she was only a simple human. Perhaps the elven woman with her magic or the telepathic Vanir boy that Frigga had also considered for the task would be more familiar with the ways of Asgard, and would certainly be seen as more acceptable of being present in the Realm Eternal than a Midgardian. However, Astrid still seemed to stand the best chance at possibly connecting to Loki, not only with her empathic talent, but because she also seemed to suffer old wounds and struggle with emotional turmoil.
The fact that Loki invited Astrid to return was promising. He offered to help her discover and hone the magic she possessed, which to someone not knowing Loki as well as she did, would seem uncharacteristically generous of him. What most of Asgard did not know about their younger prince was that he did possess a generous nature, if he felt it was deserved. Not all of his tricks were mean-spirited. Mischievous, always. Frigga knew about those who had received assistance from an anonymous benefactor, or who had been given small gifts from an unknown source. Once, he had overheard his chambermaid lamenting over not being able to visit her gravely ill mother because of her duties to him. He decided to leave, immediately, for an extended visit to Vanaheim to study the growth of an obscure and rare herb for its entire blooming season, thus relieving the young servant of her duties for long enough to care for her mother and see her back to good health. And Frigga knew about the vase of flowers from her garden that appeared in her chambers every morning. The vase discontinued its appearance after Loki fell into the void. He wasn't always as uncaring as he led everyone to believe.
Frigga could plainly see that he was curious as to how powerful Astrid could become, and to what extent he could exploit her. But she also knew how lonely he was, and that while telling himself that he intended to take advantage of Astrid's magic, part of him craved a connection with someone. Frigga hoped that he would be able to form a kinship of some sort with Astrid, be able to speak with her as he refused to speak with anyone else. Frigga knew something had happened to her son, but she could not coax him into telling her anything. He was too full of anger, pain, and pride. Now that Astrid had rid him of the worst emotions, perhaps she could draw the truth out of him so he could begin to heal.
Frigga was going against her husband's direct orders by allowing an outsider to have access to Loki, but she would do anything to help her beloved son reclaim himself, even commit treason. A mother's love knows no bounds. She knew that Odin would eventually discover Loki and Astrid, and Frigga's involvement, and he would be furious, but hopefully that discovery would not be made until the timing was right. She was fairly certain that once Astrid helped Loki banish his demons, it would be obvious to Odin that she had made the right decision, and perhaps she could convince him to lighten Loki's sentence and completely forgo punishment for Astrid.
She had already spoken to Heimdall, asking him not to inform the king of any visitors to Loki's cell. She assured him that the visitor was no threat to the safety of Asgard and should be considered a personal guest of the queen. Heimdall agreed to Frigga's request, trusting his queen's wisdom and judgment. The watchful Guardian's foresight showed him that the mortal woman visiting the fallen prince would play a vital role in mending Loki's broken mind and soul, which was the queen's intention. It was because of this that the Gatekeeper agreed to cooperate and handle the situation discreetly.
The queen, pleased with Astrid's first visit, smiled to herself as she waved a hand over the fire pit, dissolving the illusion. She turned to leave her chambers and attend to her other duties, none seeming more important than helping her son. But that would be her own secret... for now.