Ridiculously Long Author's Note:
I...don't quite know where this came from. The more I read of Loki, the more he intrigues me. Honestly, by the end of the film (that I saw twice), I did not think much of him at all. But, then again, I AM one of those girls that practically drooled over shirtless-Thor.
That being said, I did find Loki...curious, if nothing else, and decided he deserved more of my attention. And...well, depite his issues, I find him interesting. And maybe just a tiny bit adorable.
I expect the Marvel writers will try to turn Loki into a full-fledged villan, but I hope not. He's troubled-obviously-but not downright evil, in my opinion. I look at him and see something akin to a clever, intelligent but defiant and troublesome personality with a slight potential for sociopathic tendencies.
Yes, Loki is indeed interesting.
And here is my attempt at him.
Be advised that this is not intended to be a romantic story of Loki and Jane, but for anyone who is a fan of the pairing, well, you could take it as such if you want to.
Enjoy and let me know what you think and how you feel!
I own nothing of course.
Surprisingly Long-ish Story:
The pitch black of the desert night began to transform into a deep blue as the sun challenged the horizon for supremacy.
Loki sat, shrouded and invisible, atop the horrid silver bulk that was the home of the mortal woman called Jane Foster.
His fingers tapped the metal as he lounged, his face to the sky and he grinned outright to the guardian he knew was watching from the great realm of Asgaard.
He had told his brother he would visit her.
And though Loki admitted his capacity for deception, those words he had spoken were no lie.
If anything, they were a warning.
By the time he realized he had fallen to earth, they were a promise.
After all, Loki was a son of Odin. After all, he was Asgaardian royalty.
He was obligated by duty to stay true to his word.
And so he had come in the darkness of midnight, landing softly, silently on the metallic rooftop of her pathetic dwelling. The silver surface beneath his feet reflected even the most distant of stars in the sky above.
He looked around immediately, took note of the man—a SHIELD agent—awake but drowsy, sipping caffeine inside another, similar trailer not too far away.
A guard, he supposed. It did not matter. His magic left him undetectable.
For several hours he had simply sat there on her roof, staring at the stars, wondering when Heimdall would inform his brother of his actions.
Yes, he would allow the golden guardian to see him today.
He wanted his brother to know exactly what he was up to.
Who knew? Maybe if he listened close enough, he could hear Thor's barbaric scream as it travelled throughout the realms.
The thought made him positively giddy.
Staring into the fading darkness, the mixture of blues and yellows that were slowly but surely chasing the stars away, Loki felt an unusual combination of appreciation and deviousness.
He appreciated the rare moments of beauty this lowly realm had to offer.
But he was not here to enjoy the coming of dawn.
He was here to enjoy being devious.
Opening his palm, Loki cocked his head to the side as a small blue flame ignited in its center. Staring into the miniature magic inferno, he smiled.
He could set this ridiculous excuse for a home ablaze, right now, with Thor's human obsession asleep inside.
He could stand in front of the building and watch it melt and crumble and hear the sudden shocked scream of the woman as she realized it was too late to escape.
He could truly do it, if he wanted to, just to spite his brother. Just to make him feel the pain. Just to make him know what it felt like to lose.
He looked up again, winked at the sky, and let the magic dissipate from his hand.
No, he was not yet certain that he wanted to kill the girl. Right now, he was simply enjoying the knowledge that somewhere in Asgaard, Thor worried and fretted over whether or not he did want her dead.
The sun was just beginning to peak over the edge of the earth. A sliver of golden light flashed against the silver building and Loki regarded it with disappointment.
He always did prefer the darkness.
And his time to play with Jane was shortening.
With something less than a thought—more of an instinct, if anything-he was gone from the roof.
The wonderful cool of blackness surrounded him again.
He was inside Jane Foster's dwelling.
His eyes adjusted immediately, taking in her poor attempts at housekeeping. Paper was scattered about countertops. Empty food wrappers filled the trash bin. Half-finished cups of the caffeine-filled drink called "coffee" were practically everywhere.
What a pathetic little creature.
What in all of the nine realms could his brother see in her?
He turned to look at the far end of the trailer.
An outline of a body, facing away from him, curled in a fetal-like position that only confirmed the title he'd given her, lay wrapped tightly in a blanket on a small and uncomfortable-looking bed.
Truly, truly, pathetic.
He removed the shroud on himself, solidified and moved forward with quiet, easy steps.
He had no fear of this girl. He could look at her and tell she was in a deep slumber. She had no idea he was close enough to touch her.
He sank softly onto the mattress beside her, sitting in a position that allowed him to lean over her form and make out her face.
She was not…unattractive, he decided. But still, nothing about her suggested the privilege of an Aesir's attention…much less their love.
Reaching out, he realized just how cold his hands were when his fingers met what felt like scorching warmth on her forehead. He did not believe such heat coming from a mortal's skin to be normal.
He jerked back when she suddenly coughed in her sleep.
Ah….
The woman was ill.
How ill, he did not know.
And…of course, he really did not care.
Nevertheless, it was still dark within the home, and silence still permeated the air outside. He still had time to decide what to do with the weak little being that had captured his brother's heart.
His fingers returned to her head. A small sound, something like contentment, escaped her mouth.
He realized his hands, so naturally cold, probably felt good against her fevered skin. She did not deserve such merciful treatment and yet….
Loki did not pull away.
His brow furrowed.
And suddenly, Jane Foster's did too.
"Don't."
His fingers froze on her forehead when her mouth opened to release the small, barely audible word. He watched her chest rise and fall rhythmically and knew she had not woken.
She was dreaming, perhaps?
"Please don't do this."
She had his attention now. Do what, exactly? Who was she speaking to? Surely the girl was not unconsciously aware of his presence? He felt himself lean forward, closer, intrigued now…
His mouth opened before he even commanded it.
"Do what?" His own whisper startled him. Why was he bothering to ask her when she was not awake enough to answer?
And why bother to ask when he could just as easily look into her mind and see the answer for himself?
He closed his eyes, pressed his fingers a bit firmer into her flesh. The tips of his nails halted against her skull. He peered closer, prodded into her dreams. He could almost see it….
"Thor!"
She had nearly shouted then, fear and anguish evident in her tone.
Of course her dream was about his brother. What else would the sickly mortal girl be thinking of? In her wretched and weakened state, she was probably dreaming of being in danger, calling to her "valiant" hero to save her.
So then, perhaps she did know he was there…
Because of course, she could be in danger, if he wanted her to be.
"No, Loki." His eyes widened, threatened to pop from their sockets at the sound of his name from her lips. A wave of anger suddenly rushed through him when he recognized the words that had, not too long ago, come from his father's lips as well.
He felt his nails piercing her skin now, and if he were not using just a tiny bit of magic to secure her sleep she would have undoubtedly awakened from the sharp pain.
But then he sobered when he realized the words were in the form of a plea and not a command.
A request and not a condemnation.
At least the woman could show respect, even if it was just in dreams.
Fine, girl. You win this one.
He leaned closer to her face, peering over her shoulder to see her brow still wrinkling as she fretted in slumber. He could feel the penetrating heat from her skin on his own, hear the slow thunder of her heartbeat in her chest, and smell the sickly air from her nose as she exhaled.
She was not worth playing with in such a state. Not worth his time and trouble when she could not even present a challenge.
He huffed to himself, pondering for a moment.
And then flattened his palm against the fiery flesh of her forehead, allowing his natural coolness to penetrate the fever on her skin.
He frowned slightly when his skin tone darkened and he realized he was using a skill he had been born with, and not taught…..
Loki blinked when the heat had faded from her body.
He had effectively pulled the fever from her, and was unsure of how exactly he had done so.
But what troubled him more was the question of why.
He stood then, off the mattress, almost too quickly, when she rolled over to face him.
Her eyes remained shut.
Her brow was smooth and her breathing calm.
Loki shrouded himself and made for the doorway.
He had not intended to show Jane Foster mercy today. He decided she had earned it, however- albeit unknowingly- through respect.
Perhaps you were a positive influence on my brother, little human. It's too bad it won't save him.
Habitual End Note:
So...Loki's character has me writing a longer story than I've dished out in quite a while. Um...thanks Loki?