Trouble

Disclaimer: Loki, Thor, The Avengers and all related characters belong to Marvel and their incredible creators. I make no monetary profit from this work it is only for entertainment.

Spoiler Warning: This does occur immediately after the events of Infinity War! So be advised that spoilers are littered throughout even the first chapter.

Author's Note: It has been a hot minute since I have dabbled in a new fandom. Oddly enough I have always thought the Tom Hiddleston embodiment of Loki was pure gold, but I never dared dabble in the complex Marvel fandom. However, after the amazing character development that Loki went through to be crushed in the first moments of Infinity War I felt stung. Not just by a plot bunny on how to avenge this wronging of a character who had been so painstakingly crafted, but over how all of Asgard's refugees seemed to meet a similar fate with the exception of Thor… and then like some of my ideas it wouldn't leave me alone.

Breathe deeply,

until sweet air extinguishes the

burn of fear in your lungs and

every breath is a beautiful

refusal to become anything

less than infinite.

~ D. Antoinette Foy

Chapter 1: The Trouble with Breathing

One would expect a few possibilities at the final moments. The options for what lay beyond the last breath truly dwindle down to nothing or an assortment of tales of the afterlife. The God of Mischief had face death once or twice before, and honestly expected cold silence. For a moment that was what he had…

However, that did not last. He woke hurtling toward the ground, gasping for breath as though he was still being squeezed. He landed harshly onto cold and unyielding ground surrounded by light that faintly reminded him of the bifrost. Had he not seen Heimdal die moments before he had felt his own last breath he would have assumed this was the gatekeeper's doing. Yet, here he was barely breathing. This was certainly no glorious afterlife. He could feel that the framework of his throat had been crushed and each breath came through what felt like the thinnest of openings.

The sky was dark but he could make out the shapes of great trees overhead, and he could hear the push and pull of what sounded to be a sea. There were also voices, hushed and curious as their owners rushed to his side. A hodgepodge of creatures drifted past his ever darkening vision before the largest of the group hauled him up and began to run. They were all yelling now for some healer.

If he had the energy he would have laughed as they dragged him through a small village. What could some pitiful healer offer in his condition? Perhaps this was his curse for his many crimes? He would die again and again in new and pitiable places?

When his eyes opened he found himself sprawled on a table with an ancient looking woman crooning over him. Her hands hovered over his throat before she cast her milky colored eyes to his face. What luck, a blind healer.

"He is nothing but trouble. Saving him may not be worth my time", the old woman sounded like gravel against mud.

"Lola! Don't talk that way", a softer voice cut in.

The new figure shooed the old woman back, and set about examining his neck. She was a young maiden, and her brows knit with concentration as she carefully prodded him. Her warm fingertips angled his jaw and she met his gaze with golden hazel eyes. For a moment she only looked at him and he observed the freckles on her cheeks and matching dots of emerald in her eyes.

"You will not like this, but if you are to survive you must trust me." Her voice was quiet and sure.

He watched her warily, his energy so weak he could not even call forth his seidr. She retrieved her tools, and they proved rather gruesome in their simplicity. A bowl with a sharp smell wafting from it contents, a cloth, and a small sharp blade. It was only then that he noticed his skin. In such a desperate state he was visible in his true Jotun heritage, yet this woman who looked to be some mortal did not shrink from him. She could pass for some midgardian, but she touched him. He could see how the Jotun's curse crept up her fingertips from touching his neck before now. Just as it had given the frost poison to any asgardian warrior who crossed them it now harmed her as she attempted to save him.

"You young priestesses want to save everything that falls", the old woman grumbled observing the painful effect on her younger companion. "Careful not to harm yourself too much in the process. You need to work faster girl."

The younger nodded, and sent him an apologetic look before swiping the cloth with pungent smelling liquid over his neck and collar. Then, grasping the blade in one hand and prodding the area with the careful fingertips. He watched in abject horror as she moved the blade across his throat in a short motion. Then, the first real breath filled his lungs. The blade was passed to the elder, and upon his second deep breath she continued with the cloth again to stem the bleeding.

The girl slipped away though. Her petite frame sliding down from the table he was sprawled out on to the ground. Her arms clasped to her middle which had turned dark and likely filled with the vicious poison. The elder woman grunted and managed to ease down to where the young priestess tried to quietly writhe in pain. A bowl was in her hand with some concoction that she began to spread on her arms. This seemed to soothe her somewhat and she sank back with unshed tears gathering at her dark lashes.

The elder nodded to his direction, "Well, he's alive. Now, you have to fix him. Good luck you little brat."

A smile curled his lips despite the pain that still lanced at his neck. If he could find his voice he would have wholeheartedly agreed with the old hag. The girl now painted in mud gave a huff at the old woman and rolled her eyes. She looked at him with hope though, and it made the darkness that fell over his vision feel so much different then the last bout.

Loki woke to the soft light of morning, and humming. The young priestess hovered over him again. This time she held a bowl of sweet smelling liquid that reminded him of honey. She painted it onto his injured neck with a heavy brush with care. She greeted his watchful gaze with a cheery smile. Her dark hair was gathered into a high ponytail and the length of it easily reached the table while she worked. A few strands tickled at his cheek and ear, and he found them soft like down.

"These oils will help bring your voice back", she intoned softly.

She then drew up wrappings and thin bones likely from some avian creature. "These will help the body heal."

She set to work setting the bones and wrappings about his neck with care to create a brace. While a large part of him wanted to scoff at the primitive simplicity of such a spell he could feel the power to her movements. With each bone she painted another strip of oil, spread wrapping and murmured in some tongue he did not know. He could feel curls of her energy seeping into this craft and spreading warmth, blessed and numbing warmth to his injured and aching body.

"Soon, you should be feeling much better, and you should be able to tell me more. For now, may I ask you a few questions. You could raise one finger for yes and two for no. Is that fair?" She settled next to him again though careful not to risk touching him as she smoothed the curing mud onto her again poisoned hands.

He lifted a brow, but raised his index finger. Oh how he ached for his voice…

She nodded, "Do you know where you are?"

He raise two fingers.

"You are on the planet Sabal in the Northern mountains. Our village is called Arlo and we are far from the only trading port on the planet, well during the limited time that we are an open port." She tapped her muddy fingers together as her eyes turned solemn. "Were your injuries from a creature called Thanos?"

He felt curiosity spark through him and cautiously raised his index finger again.

"I thought as much. Sabal is an ancient place, and we have a spell to help those harmed by Thanos. The spell is far from perfect, but it does offer some assistance for those who survive the journey." She murmured to him as the subject turned serious.

He attempted to digest this information and catalog his many rising questions for review when he had a voice. However, his clever mind could not ignore one thing. He lifted his index finger to point directly at her. Her honey and sage eyes glanced at this before a blush settled over her cheeks.

"I'm sorry! I am the priestess Serena. You are my responsibility until you can be productive and capable on your own." She stammered bashfully before scurrying away to clean the room.

It was still unsettling that his breathing mostly came from the base of his throat at the moment, but at least he was breathing. While his caretaker appeared barely an adult she seemed powerful and foolhardy enough to keep him alive. Not to mention this place and its people had the audacity to defy Thanos in such a way gave him an immediate liking to this Sabal.

The next few days passed in a haze. His little priestess tended to him, but the old hag insisted they not feed him. She had a point. Jotun healed faster when their bodies were under stress, and he could go without a meal for a few days. Not that he liked it.

One day though he woke to the sound of a small crash. The sound of a pot clattering to the ground. His eyes opened to find his priestess staring at him like a ghost and a quick glance explained why. His seidr had begun to return, and so had his asgardian form. He was able to sit up and to his great pleasure clear his throat.

"Don't worry little priestess. It is still I, Loki", his voice was rough but gratefully returned with some of his strength.

She blinked, her large eyes impossibly wide, and took a cautious step closer. "Loki?"

Her expression morphed from shock to delighted curiosity. Her fingers ran over the closed wound at the base of his throat she had inflicted to save his life. Her warm eyes turned to him in question. "You are a sorcerer?"

He smirked watching her mind run a mile a moment, "Of sorts, little priestess."

She gave a snort and continued to marvel at his new appearance. Her eyes drifted about and he would wager she could sense the lines of energy his seidr traveled from her movements. Marvelous little priestess indeed.

"Can you walk?" She chirped suddenly.

Loki quirked a brow and swung his long legs from the table and settled his weight on them with care. Before he could test just how stable he was on them however his little priestess was at his side. She barely reached his shoulder and easily slid to his side, bracing him. Her pale, loose fitting shirt had never proven to show much, but now he could feel her warmth radiating into his side. She smiled up at him when he grasped at her waist and found it narrow.

She happily helped him into the next room which he found an odd mixture of what he considered advanced technology similar to Sakaar and downright medieval. She helped him to settle into a chair and he disdained how much energy it actually drained from him to do such a simple task. She hustled about and set a plate of food before him. He prodded the textureless mass apprehensively.

She gave him a reassuring smile and added a piece of bread, "It will not be the most delicious meal, but it is your first food in days. Bland is good for an empty stomach. We can work your way back to rich."

He managed a bite before the old hag appeared in the doorway. A scowl curled her lips as she seemed to gather the scene without vision. Her gravely voice grunted, "You should have let him die."

"Lola, you are in a cheery mood this morning", his little priestess seemed undeterred by the old hag's sourness and began to prepare a plate for her. Though it looked much better in terms of menu.

"Loki is feeling better", his little priestess continued sitting down across from himself and the old witch.

Lola gave a snort, "Loki needs a bath."

The God of Mischief felt his hackles raise. This old bat tested his patience. However, the quiet giggle of his caregiver cut through his revenge plotting. He lifted a brow at the new prospect, as she spoke.

Full rosy lips suppressed their giggles, "Lola, a bath is next on our to do list. I promise."

Loki felt the bait to easy to snatch and his voice purred out, "Will you be bathing me little priestess?"

A piece of bread landed squarely between his eyes, and Serena muttered to herself under pink cheeks. A sharp glare made her warm eyes blaze and he could feel her energy curl and spark delightfully against his own. Oh what a toy she could be to entertain him, and what a marvel to behold when she was angry! It brought a clever spark of wonder to him for the first time in he didn't know how long.

"I told you. You should have let him die. He is nothing, but trouble." Lola murmured digging into her meal.

Author's note-

So, first thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and I will update it soon.

Again, this is my first adventure ever into writing for the Marvel Universe, so please feel free to give me opinions. I am incredibly nervous about capturing a tone correctly for the characters, Loki chief among them. Also, let me know what you think! Thank you so much!

This has now been put through its paces by my darling Dragon!

Reviews are incredibly important to me because they are my only real way to gauge the audience. I welcome all feedback, so please let me know how I did! Thank you so much for reading!

Love,

Persephone