Prologue: Deals With the Devil
When she walked into his lair – no, his kingdom – Charlotte Doyle knew what she wanted. Her deteriorating body knew what it wanted, and the only person who could give it to her was in there somewhere, sitting on a throne of his own making, an uncrowned king waiting for revenge. Her coughs echoed through the underground tunnel, creating terrible noises, so loud it felt that the rest of the world would know her whereabouts before Charlotte herself did. Then, the girl reached it, the last door that would lead her to him.
The men who had accompanied her so far stopped as the door opened almost as if by magic, and there he was. Sitting almost regally ten feet away from her, a vision in green and gold. Her eyes widened with both fear and adoration as chocolate-brown met clear and cold green. He smiled then, a vision so terribly beautiful she had to look away for a second before her eyes were drawn to him again. "Come, dear." His voice was calm; yet powerful enough it was as if her feet had gained a mind of their own.
Charlotte crossed the distance between her and the man too quickly for her sick lungs, which burned with distaste as soon as she stopped before him. She coughed again, feeling weak and undeserving of his presence, and tore her eyes away from Loki's to look at the ground. She heard rather than saw it when he stood up and took a few tentative steps towards her. Charlotte could feel his presence getting closer and closer until he reached out for her and lifted her chin so she'd look into his eyes once more.
"Tell me what you want, child."
The things she had been so sure of just minutes before seemed to melt the minute he asked her for it. She wanted the world then, but no words came out of her mouth. He seemed to notice – how couldn't he? – and slid the hand that was on her chin until it reached her cheek. "What do you want from me, Charlotte?" He barely whispered it, but it was loud enough for her to hear it. His face had gotten closer now, and for a moment she thought they'd kiss.
Instead she found herself speaking.
"I want power." The words left her like a rushed confession, and she thought he'd laugh. The god, on the other hand, stared with a newfound interest, a spark of curiosity ignited by her. "I want to be strong. I-I don't want to feel weak ever again." She put her hand over his, a bold gesture for a human. A surge of electricity rushed through her, and her eyes sparked with desire for what he could give. "Please."
Another of those terrible grins stretched across his lips. "Do you think you can take what I have to give you, girl?" His words were meant as an insult, calling her weak, but she nodded anyway. "Such a small, petty creature." The link between them was broken when his hand tore away from her face, and the man started to walk circling her. "Thinking you are deserving of this..." He looked at the scepter and she followed his gaze, amazed. "Of my gifts."
The man stopped behind her this time. "What will you do when your heart is crushed by me, child? When the power becomes so terribly strong it takes everything away leaving nothing behind?" His tone shifted so it was threatening, showing more of the villain she had heard so much about and less of the king from earlier on. Charlotte swallowed, terrified, but stood her ground. "I will die anyway. Whether it is your scepter or my cancer that kills me." Filled with sudden boldness, the girl turned to face him. "Your way would be faster."
He was taken aback, but a god would never admit to that. The last person who surprised him was a monster lowlier even than the girl before him, and Loki's pride was too grand to let it happen again. So, his surprise was replaced with faint amusement, as if she were a new toy he wanted to play with. "So be it, Charlotte Doyle." Her name in his mouth sounded like both a sin and a blessing, her desire cursing her forever. "I will give you the world." The god held on to his scepter with a newfound strength, delighted by the words that hadn't come out of his mouth yet. "But you will give me something back."
There it was. The price, the thing she had been most concerned about. What could a girl like her give a man like him? It showed in her eyes, the fear of what was to come.
"You will be mine." But she already was. From the minute she had walked inside that crumbling palace, Charlotte Doyle knew she'd do whatever he asked of her. He had her from the start, so there was no doubt left within her when chocolate-brown met cold, clear green again. "Yes, my King."
She felt the gold's cold touch through her blouse when the scepter touched her chest, just above her hectically beating heart. Charlotte took a deep breath, ready to leave behind the days of uselessness and feebleness, in order to become a better version of herself. The girl could feel it, pressure building up within her, changing her, breaking and rebuilding. But then the pressure became too much, and she fell to her knees.
Her screams pierced through the silent lair as pain washed through her like waves crashing on sand. The rest of the world slowly disappeared, as she got lost in it, the scepter's powers destroying her from the inside out. Somewhere through it she started feeling weaker than ever, and then the whole world went black.
Far away from them, in an impossible base above the ground, a hero's wounds were also healing, though in entirely different ways.
