Hey folks!
Here's chapter two! Things should get moving a bit faster soon, but still no Jane yet: she may not appear for a bit longer! We'll see ^.^
Still setting things up; I hope you all enjoy!
Also, for those of you who enjoy music: I was inspired for this fic by the song "Storm" by Devin Townsend. Good stuff. I highly recommend anything by him.
Jotun Occupation: Day 26
The snow was thick, hardened and unyielding. It wasn't like the snow in the mountains of Asgaard. It wasn't soft. It wasn't friendly. It wasn't a fine powder of fun and play and laughter.
It was silent and abrasive, whipping through the air at all times, creating a gray haze of howling ice.
It was like the snow of Jotunheim, barely giving way beneath his feet and yet moving in the chaotic winds of the blizzard across the rest of his bare body.
Loki squinted against the storm and chose to peer downward as he walked, watching the pale toes on his feet sink just slightly with each step, instinctively gripping the frozen tundra that had become the New Mexico landscape.
The crackly crunch of his feet on the snow was deafened with each windy wail.
He knew that by now, the entire planet had become like this.
He was amused and disgusted in the same moment, watching them negotiate his fate like he was a slave at auction.
He was amused because he could read their lips from his place in the holding cell, Thor's mouth often speaking words of agreement as the man called Nick Fury laid down the details and restrictions which would dictate how he was to be punished and treated here.
He was amused because they had quickly decided not to take his life. It was as if the very idea was taboo.
It was also the very thing that disgusted him.
Loki threaded his fingers into his unruly hair and tugged in frustration. This pack of mortals that Thor ran with was obviously one of the most powerful and influential groups of humans on Earth, their quiet commands and suggestions whispered in the darkest corners of the world to the highest authorities of the public eye, and the vast majority of mankind did not even know they existed.
They could do anything, Loki knew. They could kill him without struggle or argument, they could strap him to a shining silver table and experiment on his now weak and mortal body, or they could throw their pretty cuffs and chains on him and force him to do their bidding.
And yet, as Loki craned his head around the guard posted to his cell, he could see that Fury had no desire to do any of those things. The man instead sought to keep him confined within their ranks, restricted to their compound, never to leave and never to interact with too many people at one time.
He was taking mercy on the adopted brother of his royal ally from the stars.
And it made Loki positively ill.
Night was falling quickly, and he already knew that there would be no stars to guide him this night, just as there were none the previous. Just as there was barely a sun to light the skies during the day.
In the darkening silence, he felt his senses sharpen to attention.
The wind whispered through the ice and for a brief moment in time Loki felt it lull him.
He was somewhat tired, his legs buzzing with the awkward feeling of actual work. It was in these moments that he cursed Odin most for reducing him to such a pathetic state.
But even as he stopped to sit against an icy protrusion of rock, he knew that Odin could have done more.
The cold stone at his back did not bother him.
As the faintest remnants of light gave way to the nighttime snowfall, Loki propped his left arm on a raised knee and flipped his hand over.
The small compass strapped to his wrist was barely visible, but he could confirm his direction.
Barton had told him to head northwest. To bypass all other towns and cities until he found his destination.
To find the ones that could cast magic, and take him where he needed to be.
Loki leaned back and felt the ice and rock dig into the back of his unprotected head.
It did not hurt as much as it should have.
He should have waited like a good little dog.
He should have known that it would be Rogers that would set him off, the young (and likewise old) soldier not one to hold back his opinions of those that he deemed impure and unworthy.
He should have waited for the man to leave the dining area.
But he did not.
"You know what I think? I think Fury is being too light on you. I think, after everything that you've done, you should at least be confined to a cell. If it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here. You'd be in Asgaard, or back home in Jotunheim where you belong-"
The chair flew across the room with the force at which he stood, lashing forth to press his entire body against the man who dared to speak to him like he was an underling; the plates of food on the table being scattered as he shoved with every ounce of his strength, a deep red penetrating his eyesight with a sudden rush of rage.
The blade of ice that had formed in his hand was at the Captain's throat and the two SHIELD agents in the room were already just beside him, weapons pointed at his skull with promise.
Clint Barton did not remove the pistol from its position at his temple but moved his free hand to wrap around the blue flesh of Loki's arm, firm but slow as he coaxed the hovering blade away from its target.
Loki locked eyes with the sniper and found a hint of understanding that he wished he hadn't. His hand pulled back just enough.
And Rogers shoved him away the moment the icy prick had left his skin.
Natasha Romanoff, gun still trained and ready, nodded towards the pale blue of his hand.
"Looks like Thor was wrong about you being human now." She did not give him a chance to remark, lowering her weapon just long enough to pull out a set of Stark-esque bindings from the pack at her waist.
He watched her brush Rogers away and pin Barton with a grim look.
"Inform Fury about this. Loki needs higher security."
Sunlight peeked through the dark clouds above him, casting a single sliver to bring him back to the waking world.
He had not intended to actually sleep.
He pondered for a moment if he even needed to do so.
Loki scowled and stood, back stretching as his limbs sang with rest and renewed energy. He wondered if the rest of them could grow tired. He wondered if their legs would ache if they walked so many miles, if their backs would pop if they sat stooped against a boulder for too long.
Or was he still different from them?
It was true enough that if Loki could bear to admit it, he had an obvious advantage that they did not. Some of Odin's influence still lingered on his body, giving him control of his natural appearance.
The singular beam of sunlight ran across the now still and quiet snow towards him.
He also had a distinct disadvantage as well.
Some of them were sorcerers. They would cast magic, and powerfully, if needed. They could even move through the realms, should they find the hidden gateways scattered throughout the cosmos and utilize them.
It was how they got to Earth, he knew.
Loki peered upward as the light glinted against his eyes, fighting for life in the darkening skies.
He frowned. They could move through the realms, and transport, without need for ships or vehicles or walking. They could, but he could not. Odin had taken that from him. It was why he'd assumed that he had been made human. Odin had stripped him of all of his magic, all things not natural to humankind…..
But no, he was not human. Odin had only taken the skills he had honed in Asgaard, as well as some of those abilities that would be seen as part of his heritage.
It baffled him. Why would Odin leave him with some of his born powers, but forcibly steal others?
He could only conclude that either the old fool had grown too senile to punish him thoroughly, or the 'all-knowing' Allfather had done it with a purpose.
Loki raised his hand, watching the blue creep across his fingers and turn his nails black.
The single ray of light from the clouds warmed the dark skin for just a moment before succumbing to the gathering storm and fading altogether.
He breathed deep, willing his human form to return.
It did not matter what, if anything, Odin intended for him.
He had his own agenda to pursue.
Reviewness? ^.^