Chapter Two: Thirteen months later:
It always starts the same way. The cells around him are empty, and Loki sits on a chair, his head in his hands. Usually, he's crying, but sometimes he's gritting his teeth, trying to fight off the pain. This time, it's the latter.
He's tried for so long to keep the pain at bay. Nothing ever seems to really work. He slams his hand again the wall, cursing himself for his weakness. And yet, he doesn't want to forget, he doesn't' want the pain to actually stop. Because the pain reminds him that she was real.
"Loki," he knows that voice, but something is off. No matter how many times he gets to this part, Loki always feels his breast fill with hope, with pure joy as he sees her standing there.
Riley.
She wears a dark purple Asgardian dress, that perfectly shows off her lovely curves. Her hair is down, in loose curls, just as he likes it. When she smiles at him, all the pain, all the weariness, simply melts away. Because he's home.
"Riley," he breaths, reaching out to touch her. But his hand is stopped by the field of energy that keeps him in his cell. He feels a quick stab of disappointment, but shrugs it off. Because she's here, she's alive! And while he longs to hold her in his arms, simply seeing her is enough.
"Yes, it's me," she places her hand where his is, and once again he wishes the damn force field wasn't in the way. "I miss you."
He closes his eyes, savoring those words. "I've missed you, too," he tells her. "More than you can even imagine."
"I never got to tell you," she says, her eyes turning sad. Once again, he feels that something is wrong. "I never got to tell you how I feel."
His heart constricts. He knows what she's going to say. They're the three words that he had been dying to hear since he had first seen her.
Sometimes, the dream ends here. But usually, like now, it continues.
Riley opens up her mouth, but suddenly there's an arrow in her chest. Blood starts soaking her dress, and she looks at him with tears in her eyes.
Then she says it. Not the three words that he wants to hear, but the three words that haunt him.
"It's your fault."
When Loki woke, the pain was white hot. He grasped for it, trying to keep it with him. But it faded away, turning into numbness. Loki sat up in his bed, staring blankly at his feet. The dream is horrible and wonderful all at once. Because he sees her every time he falls asleep, but never to touch, never to keep.
He remembered the feeling he kept getting during the dream. Something had been wrong, He went over the dream a few times before he figured it out: her voice hadn't been right. And then he realized something far worse.
Loki couldn't even remember Riley's voice anymore.
He closed his eyes as the panic set it.
Deep down, he knew it wasn't really that surprising. In fact, it was shocking that he'd held on to those details for so long. It had been thirteen months since he had last seen her. Thirteen months since she'd been killed.
And he was nowhere near to finding her killer.
Of course, Loki had all the time in the world, but he wanted-no, he needed-to find the creature sooner rather than later. He just wanted peace.
Sighing, he stood and walked to the edge of his cell, his hands clasped behind his back. He watched with amusement as the prisoners across from his cell bickered and came to blows. It was pathetic, that he would be entertained by something so brutish and pointless, but there wasn't very much to do in Asgard's prison. It was in dire need of some entertainment. Perhaps he could make the suggestion to Thor, once the blond became King.
Ah, Thor. The one who kept filling these prisons cells. One of the reasons Loki was stuck in this place, instead of out searching. Loki wondered, did Thor even know about Riley? He must know. Surely one of Loki's treacherous servants would have filled Thor in.
For a time, Loki had wondered if perhaps Thor and the other Avengers had something to do with Riley's death, but he had come to the conclusion that it was too dark for them. Riley had just been an innocent girl, one who had even aided them in their escape. No, they hadn't had a part in it.
He did, however, suspect the Rebel group had had a hand in her murder. A part that would have been kept from the Avengers. Loki's face darkened. One thing was certain; he would be having a long talk with 'Jim' in the future.
The door to the prison opened, and Loki watched as a pretty, obviously pregnant, blonde girl was escorted to a cell. He grey eyes stared at the ground in shame. Loki quickly dismissed her as another whore who had been stupid enough to get caught selling her 'wares,' though he felt some pity for her, considering her condition.
He turned away, bored of watching his fellow prisoners. Frigga had recently sent him a few new books, so he picked up the pile on his table and started to sift through them.
When he reached the last one, he gasped and they all tumbled from his hands.
It took him a while to pick the book up, his hands trembling. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, he read silently. The last book of Riley's favorite series, and the only book they had not gotten around to reading together.
His mind reeled at the implications finding this book brought up. This couldn't have been an accident. Frigga had sent these books. Did she know of Riley? If she knew about the Harry Potter books, she would know about it all. Why should she send that book? He refused to believe his mother to be that cruel.
The other, more likely possibility was that someone else had sent the book. The killer? Or an enemy who simply knew too much?
"It was Quirrell," he heard in his mind, as he remembered all the good times spent reading the series. There it was! Riley's voice! A weight was lifted from his shoulders as the memory of the sound filled his mind.
He turned the book over in his hand. This one was Riley's favorite, he remembered. Over a year ago, he had found her reading it in his library. It was one of the moments that had made him fall in love with her. She had been so concentrated on the book, so deeply immersed in the story. It was one of his favorite memories.
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. He couldn't bear the thought that those moments hadn't been private, that someone had been watching them.
At that moment, he heard a sound behind him, and turned to see Frigga. Or rather, the image of Frigga. Odin forbade her from ever seeing him in person again, so this was the only way for them to communicate.
"Hello, Loki," she greeted him pleasantly. "How are you?"
Loki held the book up, his jaw clenched tightly. "What is this?"
She took a few steps forward, examining the cover. "Well, obviously it's a book," she replied with a hint of sarcasm. "However, it's not one that I sent."
"Then who sent it?" He asked, his voice shaking.
"I don't know-"
"You must know!" He yelled, throwing the book on the ground. Turning his back on Frigga, he struggled to regain his composure. But he just couldn't stop shaking.
"Loki?" The Queen asked hesitantly. "Loki, what's wrong?"
There was a plea in her voice. Frigga had asked that question many times before. It was so tempting to tell her the truth, to have someone to share in his grief. But he couldn't. Even if he could get the words outs, he still knew that whatever he said would be repeated to Odin. And he was sure the Allfather could use that against him.
"I'm fine," he finally said, his voice cold. "As fine as can be expected, considering I'm doomed to rot in this cell for eternity."
"Loki, look at me." So Loki did, turning towards his mother, his face a mask of indifference. She studied him a long moment, before saying anything. "Loki, you can't hide from me. I know something is troubling you. You're in pain. I want to help, but I can't unless you tell me. Please."
"You can't help," he said softly. "Because she's gone, and no one can bring her back."
"Who?" Frigga pressed.
He avoided her searching gaze. "Leave me," he said firmly, signaling the end of the conversation. He knew she wanted to press further, but Frigga knew him well. He would say no more on the matter. So, she gave him a parting smile and faded away.
Frigga would be again tomorrow, he knew. He had said too much for her to let it go.
With a shaky sigh, Loki bent over and picked up the seventh Harry Potter. Once, he had been anxious to read this last book, to find out how it ended. But staring at it, he knew he would never be able to finish it. Not without Riley.
He opened the book to the title page and froze as he saw the words written there, in black ink.
You let her die.
Underneath the words, a picture was tucked in between the pages. A picture of Riley, pale skinned and laying in a coffin.
Bile rose in his throat, as he fought the urge to throw up. He dropped his gaze, and took deep breaths. He tore the title page out, shredding it to pieces, and then chucked the book against the force field as hard as he could.
The picture he held onto. It was torturous to look at, but he couldn't stop staring down at the image. He'd always wondered what her funeral had been like.
Some people said that the dead looked peaceful, like they were sleeping. But Loki had watched Riley sleep, and it had been nothing like this. No, she didn't look like she was at rest; she looked like an empty shell.
Instead of discarding the picture, he slipped it under his pillow, to remind him of the fury he felt at this moment. He had no doubt now that it had been the killer who had sent him that book, which could only mean one thing:
Riley's murderer was close.