Disclaimer: Don't own anything!
AN: After a OneShot, I decided to try again, but with a longer story this time. I don't know how many chapters this will be, but I know exactly where I'm going and how to end it. I hope this will be enjoyed!
~ Stolen ~
Chapter 1
A soft humming grew louder and Loki groaned softly, wishing it to go away. He couldn't remember anything humming last time he had slept in his room and slowly, he opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed where the soft red walls. His room did not have such a color, certainly not since he considered it Thor's color.
He shifted onto his back and stared up at the white ceiling. Another thing that made no sense. His room was to be green; a soft, elegant green. Carefully, Loki pushed himself away from a feathered pillow underneath him only to realize that this wasn't his room at all. He had never before been in this place and his eyes darted around. Confusion clouded his mind and now that he thought about it, he could not remember what had happened the past few days.
Loki inhaled deeply.
The trick to these kind of situations was to remain calm and stay focused - God damn that humming was annoying! His eyes sought out the origin of the sound and quickly found a small camera hidden behind a lamp which sat on a night stand. Loki's hand pushed the lamp aside as he tried to pull the camera free, but it refused to move an inch. Loki glared intensely at the lens.
A camera meant someone was watching and he conjured his most daunting glare as he lifted himself from the bed. He was horrified to learn that a chain was placed around his left ankle, connecting him to the bed and restricting his movements. It was long enough to allow him to maneuver around the room, but short enough so that he could not reach the only door. Panic was growing within his chest and Loki swallowed heavily.
His mind raced as he tried to recall something - anything, but it felt like his memories were surrounded by a thick, impenetrable fog. He vaguely remembered walking home, thinking about a new plan to attack his brother and his new pets, but then it all went black. He didn't even know whether he actually made it home, but he wasn't planning on staying out here. Whoever thought to have the upper hand in the situation was gravely wrong.
Loki reached deep within himself and found his twisting magic stirring to life. He tapped into it, controlled it and prepared himself to use a spell when suddenly, he was struck by an agonizing burning sensation in his stomach. He groaned and nearly fell to the floor had he not found support on the edge of the bed. The painful sensation slowly ebbed away and Loki patiently waited for his vision to return to him. It was something he had not experienced before.
Defeat was not a word that could be found in his dictionary, however, and the trickster God reached for his magic again, only to find that pain returning instantly. His knees buckled, his legs unable to sustain the weight of his body and Loki gasped for air. He forced open his eyes, his mind racing to understand why he could not use his magic, but he had little time.
The door swung open and Loki turned his head. He wanted to shout, to attack whoever had just entered, but his vision was only just returning to him. Shapes were beginning to form and colors were a little too bright, but Loki refused to look away. After a few seconds, he recognized a human form. It was a man standing before him, a dark grin filling his face. He had short brown hair and dark eyes and all in all, he looked rather ordinary.
He was not what Loki had expected and Loki got to his feet, not wanting to face this enemy while half lying, half sitting on the floor. He had too much dignity for that. He glared at the man. "What is the meaning of this," he demanded to know, his voice low and vicious, "what do you want?"
The man's smile did not falter, but Loki noticed how his eyes changed. They turned colder somehow, more distant. "Mr. Odinson," he spoke slowly, as if Loki was a child that could not yet understand the language, "or do you prefer Mr. Laufeyson?"
Heat boiled in Loki's chest, a heat that was a mixture of anger and hatred. He did not know one could hate someone instantly. He repeated himself, "What. Do. You. Want?"
The man ignored Loki's question interily. "Let me introduce myself and get the formalities out of the way," he said, still grinning widely, "I am Mr. Petersen and I have always wondered what it would be like to meet an actual God." He stepped forward, but Loki couldn't touch him even if he wanted to, the chain preventing him so. "And I must say that you do not disappoint."
Loki growled. "Have I wronged you somehow?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he now tried to recall if he had ever met this man before. It would certainly explain a thing or two, like how he knew about his magic and how he had managed to control it. There was no other explanation to why Loki could not use his magic.
"No," Mr. Petersen said, shaking his head, "we never met before, but I do know you. I have read all the tales and I am somewhat a keen expert on Norse mythology."
Loki remained silent. He could not get a hold of this situation, could not understand what the meaning was or where this was going. In stead, he stared at Mr. Petersen and waited for more information. The more he knew, the easier it would be to escape. At least that was what Loki was hoping for.
"For example," Mr. Petersen continued, folding his hands before his stomach, "I know you are not really an Asgardian, but that you were born on a planet called Jotunheim and that you, yourself are in fact a Jotun, albeit a deformed one."
Loki hissed like a wounded animal would. He lashed out, trying to reach Mr. Petersen, wanting to rip his throat out for speaking to him with so little honor. The chain didn't allow him, however, and it caused him to come to a brutal halt.
Mr. Petersen pretended nothing had happened. "I know you hate your brother with all your heart, that he is the reason you have attempted to destroy or rule this planet so many times. You nearly managed, but Thor and his fellow avengers keep getting in the way. You must hate them which is something we have in common then."
The longer he spoke, the more Loki wanted to see blood flow from his mouth. His fingers ached to wreck damage to this room, to that man, but he could not. His magic was bound and a chain kept him in place. The situation was becoming more desperate with every passing second.
"But that is the present," Mr. Petersen said, his grin having disappeared suddenly. Loki could sense that they were nearing the most important topic of this conversation. "I had more eye for your past, for your children."
Loki's eyes widened, feeling all sensation drain from his legs, but he remained standing, never allowing his gaze to slip away from Mr. Petersen's dark one. "What is it you want," he repeated, surprised to find his own voice so soft.
"They are monstrous, aren't they," Mr. Petersen smiled in delight, "they are feared and respected."
Loki balled his hands into fists, blood pumping through his veins and spreading adrenaline through his entire body. Could he reach for this man, he would snap his back in two. "You can not touch them," Loki said with confidence, "you can not even see them."
"That's not the point," Mr. Petersen said, "that you are their father is. You see, Loki, I have - like you - been fighting those bloody avengers almost my entire life. Nothing worked of course, but then I thought about a new plan. What better way to fight them than use a monster of my own making?"
Loki did his best to hide his horror, but he was sure Mr. Petersen could read it all in his eyes. He was a good liar, the best in the nine realms, but when it came to his children, Loki became a mother defending her young; he became an entire new entity. "You are delusional," Loki spat, "and insane."
"I am," Mr. Petersen seemed proud, "but I am also a genius billionaire who always gets what he wants. I am like Mr. Anthony Stark in many ways, but different where it matters."
Loki stepped back and around the bed, needing space between him and that man. Normally he would not care for such things, but without his magic he felt oddly vulnerable. Sure he could fight and combat without magic, but he somehow doubted he could win this battle. He was still chained to a bed after all.
"So you took me and locked me in here," Loki said, beginning to form a complete picture of the situation and how he got into it, "separating me from my magic and chaining me to a bed because you want a...monster of your own."
"Correct," Mr. Petersen said triumphantly, "I knew you would not disappoint when it came to the intellectual field. Let's hope our spawn inherits that from you."
Loki shook his head. "You will not touch me," determination seeped from his every word, "you will never lay one finger on me for I will break into a thousand little pieces. I might not have magic, but I still have more strength than you can possibly imagine."
"I know," Mr. Petersen said solemnly, "but l have thought this through and I am not willing to waist much time. Sleep well, Mr. Odinson, for you will need your rest." With those words, Mr. Petersen exited the room and left Loki alone, feeling strangely filthy and confused. As the door locked behind that awful man, Loki smelled something in the air that had not been there before.
He tried holding his breath, but it was useless. He inhaled the air, again an again until he found his mind foggy and his vision darkening. A blackness claimed him and Loki could only wonder what condition he would be in when he would wake again - if he would wake again.
