Author's Note: a "nonet" is a group of nine objects. I chose to do nine drabbles for the Nine Realms. I wrote this for Valentine's Day as well as to tide you guys over while my Pat. Re. On. Darkness updates catch up to my FF Darkness updates. Hope you enjoy.
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A Garland of Emeralds
A Darkness There and Nothing… Flash-Fiction Nonet
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Who's There?
She wouldn't freak out.
She would not freak out.
Ohgawd, she was fuh-REAKING out.
It was dark in the cell, so very dark.
Were there spiders? Roaches?
What if there was some alien zombie roach or something?
She had to get out, she had to get out!
Screaming, fear fueling her rage,
Thea hurled herself at where she thought the door was.
Slammed her fists against the cold, unfeeling metal.
She had to get out!
She had to get this stupid collar off now!
The world was so cold without her power.
Her head felt muffled, stifled, closed off.
She couldn't connect to…anything.
Alone. She was alone, even in her head.
She screamed at that, raged, threatened to destroy this prison,
Hoping the screams would push down the panic, the loneliness in her head.
And then…
"Who's there?"
Thea whipped around, staring into the impenetrable dark.
A voice.
Someone in the cell?
No, on the other side of the wall.
"Who's there?"
Again, a feeble croak, a man's rasp.
Thea threw herself down beside the wall,
Feeling along it,
Searching for bars, a grate, a window.
Flesh smacked the other side of the stone just beside her head.
"Who's there?"
A person.
There was a person there, on the other side of the wall.
She wasn't alone anymore.
"Hello."
Green
The first time she sees his face
She suddenly can't catch her breath.
He's beautiful.
But it is his eyes that draw her, hold her.
Trap her.
They are so very, very green.
Sharp as malachite knives,
Wet as raindrops on blades of grass.
He doesn't seem to realize tears drip slowly down his cheeks.
How long has it been since he's seen another person?
She stares into those emerald eyes,
Desperate to reach out,
Wishing she could touch his mind,
Aching to touch his hand,
But she can only look into those eyes through the crack in the wall
And give him her name.
Rainbow
"Eeeaaat it," Thea insists,
Holding out a palm full of tiny rainbow-colored spheres.
"Taste the rainbow, Loki!"
He eyes the things in her hand.
"What are they?"
"Skittles! Eeeaaat them!"
She shakes the fistful of candy at him.
It rattles like beads in a bowl.
"They're sooo good! Pleeeaaase?"
He gives her a look of exasperated fondness.
How can he say no?
It means so much to her.
He can do so little for her in this prison.
He can at least try some confection she presses on him.
"All right. One."
He takes a green one from her hand.
Pops it in his mouth.
He cannot describe the flavor.
Tart, but sugary, sharp on his tongue.
He eyes the handful again.
Thea grins.
"Would you like another one?"
He takes a second green one.
Kiss
He kisses her, shutting down the babble,
Stilling the sudden fear that she'd ruined everything,
Smoothing away every thought with the warm press of his mouth
Loki, Loki, Loki, Loki, Loki
His name echoes in her head
His hands burn through her dress, gentle heat
The illusion should be slipping
But somehow, someway, she holds it together
She loves him
Impossibly
Desperately
Ravenously
Hopelessly
Helplessly
More than cake, more than confetti,
More than chocolate, more than rainbows
More than sunlight, more than fresh air
More than food, more than freedom
More than anything
More than everything
And ohgawd it is terrifying and wonderful
Ohhh, boy, I am in sooo much trouble,
Thea thinks to herself
But Loki is kissing her
And she never, ever wants him to stop
Proposal
There are so many reasons to say no
He's a prince
She's a commoner
He has a boatload of emotional baggage
(And hers might actually be worse,
She's just way better at hiding it)
He's from another planet, another galaxy,
She's from Earth and wants to go home
He's an alien, a (kind of short) Frost Giant
She's just a regular little old human
(With some interesting mutant powers)
They're trapped in little Hell-boxes
Prisoners of scabrous, hostile aliens
But she loves him more than anything and everything
And he wants to marry her
Screw all the reasons to say no
She says yes
Wedding
How is she supposed to have a wedding in here?
It's a freaking box
It's a prison cell
She's been wearing the same five shirts for six months without the use of a Laundromat
Don't panic.
Do not panic.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
Or something like that.
Whatever, she'll figure this out.
First step, take stock.
Some hand sanitizer,
Chapstick,
Some lotion that smells like flowers,
Some water,
A comb,
A torn but still wearable white shirt.
She washes the grime from her face as best she can,
Dabs lotion on the parts of her face that itch with dryness.
Smooths Strawberry Skittle-flavored Chapstick over her lips.
Rips the comb through her hair because this is taking too long.
Sniffs the t-shirt.
Maybe she's been in this alien box for too long
But it doesn't smell too bad.
She dons it.
As a kid, she'd thought about getting married.
Figured it wouldn't happen after years of romantic suckage.
But now she has Loki.
She is getting married.
In a box, in a torn t-shirt, without even the luxury of a shower.
Still cool though, somehow.
She has a surprise for him.
She's been practicing for months.
It won't help them escape, but she's finally managed
To cast an illusion outside of someone's mind.
So when she crawls through the hole in the wall,
She's wearing her torn shirt,
Her hair is styled with a broken butterfly clip missing a few teeth,
But the shirt and jeans are covered by the illusion of an actual wedding dress.
She will never, ever forget the look of wonder on his face.
In that moment, she absolutely feels like a love goddess.
The golden apple tastes pretty good, too.
Morning I
Loki snaps awake
There is an echo to his breath in his cell
Someone is there with him
He tries very carefully to shift, feigning sleep
His arm is caught under a warm weight
He blinks
Risks turning his head
His heart stutters in his chest
It was a risk, marrying Thea
But worth it all the same
It was a risk letting her cuddle him the night before
After laying together for the very first time
But it had felt worth it at the time
Only now does he realize what danger they're in
She is asleep in his arms,
Head pillowed on his shoulder,
And she is so very beautiful
But if the Chitauri were to come...
If they were to find her here...
What would become of them?
With regret, Loki kisses her softly awake
He would love to wake up every morning to her,
To this small joy in a world of despair,
But it isn't safe.
It will never be safe until they can be free of this place.
Silently, watching Thea try to stretch in the cramped cell,
Warming under the glow of her welcoming smile,
He vows once again
That he will set them both free.
Somehow.
Morning II
Thea wakes slowly the first morning in the new cell
If it even is morning
And even though the room is a room and not a box
Even though it has a bed,
And a table and food,
And luxury of luxuries, an actual freaking bathtub
It's still a prison cell
The love goddess isn't stupid
She knows what's up
But for just a moment, none of it matters
Because she wakes lying on her side in the fluffy bed
Loki lying next to her, facing her
Their eyes open together and it is the first time
The very first time ever
That she has been able to wake up next to him
Able to actually see him
Able to trace all of his adorable so-called Martian features with her eyes
Able to study the actual for-real dimple in his left cheek
Able to see his eyes turn from malachite cloudy with sleep to warm emerald
She will always, always treasure that
She won't thank Captain Leprosy for it, though
The scabies alien can choke
But she can smile in this moment
And watch an answering smile curl Loki's lips
And of course, at that point, she just has to kiss him
Pain
You think you know pain?
The Other's claws dig into Loki's scalp.
The rage twists in him, writhing like snakes.
He closes his eyes,
Focuses on his memories of his wife
Thea, clever and sweet and sorrowing and bold and afraid.
He counts every freckle on her nose,
Replays every silly song about monologues and poisoning pigeons,
Hears the echoes of "booyacashah!" bouncing off the inside of his skull like a child's ball.
Focuses on memories of his daughter,
Sophie, small and perfect and helpless and inquisitive and so reckless it terrifies him.
He counts her freckles, too,
And loses himself in those vivid emerald eyes so like his own.
He is doing this for them.
He cannot let himself forget it.
Cannot allow that accursed staff to make him forget.
If you should fail us, you will beg for something as sweet as pain.
If he fails the Chitauri and his own plans fall through,
He will beg for nothing.
He will simply end his own life,
And make his way in the afterworld to his wife and daughter.
But he will not fail.
