9: The Lost Criminologist
That night's festivities passed in a blurry haze of spiced ales, slow-cooking meats, laughter, gaiety and, of course, the most splendid series of fireworks Evelyn had ever beheld. By the end of the evening, Fandral was too intoxicated to walk straight and it had fallen upon Evelyn to deliver the boisterous, obnoxiously flirtatious god to his chambers. With his arm slung sloppily across her small shoulders, his heavy head pressed into the nook of her shoulder and neck, and the majority of his bodyweight placed on the young woman's frame, it had proven to be a most arduous task. After a painful length of time that involved much stumbling and grumbling on her behalf, Evelyn finally arrived at Fandral's home, a lodging owned by the Royal Family and offered to Thor's closest friends, the Warriors, as a courtesy for their dedication to the Allfather.
After several vain attempts, Fandral finally let himself into the regal-looking stone cottage. Evelyn set him down on a lounge seat that she found in the next room and removed his heavy, traditional outer armour and his shoes, leaving him in his trousers and shirt. The entire time he babbled nonsensically about foolish affairs that Evelyn had no desire to keep track of. He was a crude, chatty drunk, something that deterred her from counting Fandral as anything closer than a friendly acquaintance.
He had proven to be incredibly poor company and Evelyn couldn't help but think on how she would have preferred to be on her own to enjoy the festivities rather than dependent on Fandral. Carefully, she lifted his legs onto the lounge seat and placed her hands on her hips, frowning.
"Well, good night, Fandral," she said finally, inspecting her work. "Thank you for the evening. It was wonderful," she said kindly. Except for the part where you got so smashed that I needed to bring you home before you made a fool of yourself, she thought with annoyance. She was too generous of character to inform him of what a complete ass he had been, instead choosing to rant internally to herself.
She leaned forward and planted a light kiss on his cheek. Just as she drew away, his strong arm snaked slyly around her waist, pulling her abruptly down onto the lounge bed with him, forcing to awkwardly straddle his hips with her knees, her hands planted on either side of his self-satisfied, grinning face.
"Where are you going?" he whined, grinning lazily up at her as he clung to her curvaceous hips. "Why don't you stay the night?" he asked, trying to pull her down further.
Evelyn's back went rigid as she protested against his powerful grip. "Fandral, you're wasted and being incredibly ungentlemanly. Now release me at once before I arrest the nerve functions of your left arm for the next twenty-four hours," she snapped angrily.
Her snappish tone must have awakened a sliver of his rational mind. With a childish pout he relented. "Fine. You're no fun, you prude," he mumbled, releasing her with an ungallant shove. Evelyn stumbled off the lounge seat and to her feet, glaring at the arrogant god. Fandral rolled onto his side and, after a brief moment, a frightful snore escaped his lips. He had fallen fast asleep.
Evelyn snorted disdainfully. The evening had started well enough, but she had come to realize that, just as Loki had forewarned her, Fandral had appetites. These included fine wines and long-legged goddesses. More than once throughout the evening, Fandral had slipped away from her to cozy up with various women leaving her waiting aimlessly on her own and feeling very much like a fool. Evelyn shook her head, recalling his drunken banter. She wasn't a prude as he had so dourly stated. She had principles. Shutting the door firmly behind her, Evelyn hurried off into the night, back towards the castle that loomed in the nearby distance. This would be the last time she'd let the morally loose Fandral escort her anywhere. She knew better than to trust men—many of the ones she had encountered in her life, save her Gramps and the Avengers, were an unreliable lot.
It was March, but the temperature still dropped drastically with the darkening of evening into the wee hours of night. Evelyn, alone and shivering in her Asgardian cloak, meandered aimlessly through the convoluted streets of the unfamiliar town. She could no longer hear the sound of festivities as many vendors and entertainers had likely packed up for the night. The castle itself was omnipresent; however, it seemed that no matter how far she walked, the castle remained at a fix distance, laughing at her helplessness. After a solid hour, Evelyn was quite certain that she was irreversibly lost.
"Foolish girl," she muttered, chastising herself for not keeping better track of her progression. The homes and stores about her were cast in obscure blackness, all lights and fires within doused as their inhabitants slumbered peacefully and safely in their homes. Evelyn dearly wished she could say the same for herself, but the impending darkness had made the face of every building blur together in one dark, ominous mass. It seemed as if all chance of a warm bed that night would be but a hopeful dream. It was then, in her moment of despair, that she heard the sound of voices exchanging in conversation. Evelyn was spurred on anew, stumbling down the unfamiliar cobbled street and towards the sound of the voices.
They were men she realized as she was finally able to detect two broad outlines. She abruptly slowed her pace when the voices rose in argument. Her heart thudded loudly within her ribcage. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to follow the voices, but it had seemed her best shot then. Now she was regretting her decision as the taller of the two men roughly grabbed the shorter one by the collar of his shirt. Evelyn stopped short, her eyes seeking out a temporary hiding spot. She made out a dim alley and quickly darted into it.
Her laboured breathing quaked through her trembling body, but it was the fear-raising sound of nearing voices that caused her heart to nearly stop. They were walking towards her. In vain, Evelyn tried to still her shuddering form. The two shadowy figures stopped outside the mouth of the alley, some five feet away. Evelyn's eyes widened in the dark, praying she would not be seen by them.
"...come the time. There will be no complications," said the shorter of the men, his voice quivering with fear as the taller man loomed forebodingly above him.
The other man spoke, and his voice, deep, hollow and venomous was not one she would ever easily forget. "You pathetic, cowardly fool. Your impudence nearly jeopardized my plans," he growled. Evelyn shuddered at the sound of his voice, one filled with such hatred and cold unfeeling that she shivered anew.
"The Jotun soldiers will be ready. I have debriefed them of the dead zone in Odin's barrier," the smaller continued, his voice a terrified whine.
Evelyn's heart sped up as his words mulled over in her mind. Jotun soldiers?
"Who else knows of our plans?"
"N-no one, my Lord," the smaller man stuttered, bowing like a pitiable coward.
"Good."
The tall man straightened his posture, his shoulders and general width seeming to broaden from the slight alteration. His girth seemed to expand into the black shadows that stretched about him, elongating and widening his form.
With that, the spine-chilling sound of a sword being unsheathed echoed around them. The shadowy figure procured a long, curving blade. With one thrust of his powerful arm, the tall man speared the man through the chest, the lethal blade impaling the man's body, protruding out from his back. Evelyn threw her hands over her mouth to keep from crying out in shocked terror. The body of the shorter man slumped over the blade, limp, the life that had filled him not a minute before now with cruel suddenness taken away.
The man retracted the blade letting the body fall unceremoniously onto the ground in an unmoving heap. Unmoved he bent to wipe his blade on the dead man's cloak before sheathing it. He turned to look at the castle in the distance. "Your precious realms will burn, Odin Allfather, and you will be powerless to stop it," he swore darkly before seemingly vanishing into the shadows, his presence consumed by darkness, as if he had never been there.
Evelyn waited several minutes before she allowed herself to stir. Her neck and cheeks were soaked, and Evelyn realized that she was crying. She had a terrible suspicion that all would not be well in Asgard for much longer. As much as she desperately wanted to find the strength to navigate the foreign streets until she reached the castle to inform Thor of the murder she'd witnessed, she knew that reasonably she could do no such thing. The cold had left her entire body bitingly numb, all energy and warmth sucked from her. And the terror she had just witnessed was beyond what she'd ever seen before. Witnessing the cold-blooded killing had thoroughly shaken her to the bone. She was far too terrified to wander the streets for fear the man might see her and do the same unto her as he had to his companion. The trauma of what she had witnessed had seemingly immobilized her entire body.
Fear, shock, desolation, and her freezing body had all cumulated and left her paralyzed. Fatigue was quickly overcoming her body, and despite her best efforts she could not fend off the natural process. She wrapped the cloak tighter about her shoulders in hopes of saving her rapidly depleting body heat. A few minutes more and she succumbed to sleep, curled against the cold stone wall, laying on the damp ground in a miserable heap. That night she dreamt of him and his bone-chilling voice. He spoke to her and told her that she had not escaped his notice; that he was coming for her and would delight in destroying everyone she loved. That was his promise.
OOOOO
On the dawn of the second and final day of the Festival of Lights and all its entailed festivities, Loki woke with a sense of dread. Something was amiss that day, as an ominous premonition settled into his bones. He did not know why he felt it, but he did. He was a ball of tensed muscle by the time mid-morning came rolling around, presenting with it a flustered Thor who barged loudly into his room.
Loki looked away from his window. From his jail at the top of the castle, he had a clear view of the land surrounding the castle. An hour earlier, he had seen a dispatch of a dozen Asgardian guards march through the front gates with purposeful strides. This sighting, of course, had only confirmed his reasons for wariness. The Festival was a day of rest and no guards were required to make rounds. Something was wrong, he knew it. He turned to his brother, eager to know what the guards had been sent to do. He was not expecting what Thor was about to ask.
"Has Evie been to see you, brother?" he demanded. There was no animosity in his older brother's voice, only distress. Thor's fear was a rare emotion to behold. Normally he would bask in his brother's discomfort and weakness, but not today. Something was wrong and that knowledge left Loki feeling uncharacteristically compliant.
"I have not seen her since yesterday, why?" he replied anxiously, pushing away from the window to approach his brother. "Thor, what has happened?"
Thor frowned deeply, the flesh of his brow layering in an expression of concern. "Evelyn was not in her bedchamber this morning. To the maids' knowledge, she never returned to her room last evening following the festivities."
Loki felt a bubble of rage consume him. "Have you asked your dear friend, Fandral?" he snapped angrily. "The arrogant lout was with her last evening."
Thor nodded. "He was the first I went to. He was still sick from all the drink he had consumed at the festivities. He said Evelyn brought him to his lodgings and then promptly left. He remembers nothing else."
Loki scowled. "That useless scoundrel."
Thor pursed his lips, but nodded. "Fandral was certainly no gentleman last night, to let Evie leave unaccompanied and venture into an unfamiliar town."
Loki breathed heavily in an effort to calm his anger. He needed to think clearly. "If you know she did not return last night, then why would you come to me?"
A brief silence passed in which Thor levelled a knowing and accusing gaze at his brother. "Fandral informed me that the last time Evie failed to return to her room at night, it was because she had spent it with you."
All at once Loki's best efforts to remain calm were rendered vain as he was overcome by renewed fury. Fandral, he thought with a growl. For that scoundrel of a man to dare impugn Miss McPherson's honour as an honest woman—it sickened him.
Thor was able to read his brother's emotions fairly easily as, in his moment of unreserved outrage, he put every feeling, every thought on public display. "You do not deny it? So she did spend the night with you all those weeks ago."
Loki glared at his brother. "Yes."
Thor's bright blue eyes shifted with the onslaught of thoughts that rushed through his mind as he painted a fictive image of what had possibly transpired between the two. Loki could see the erroneous image that was formulating in his brother's mind and it irked him. "If you took advantage of her, Loki," he threatened, growing suddenly angry.
Loki did not permit his brother to finish the empty threat. "Please, brother. Do not make a fool of yourself by finishing that statement."
Thor nodded reluctantly, his expression grave. "I had not thought it to be true when Fandral had insinuated that such a relationship existed between the two of you. But Evie is far too principled and you far too sanctimonious for such a thing to occur between you both," he said.
Loki glared at his brother. Thor's implication that he and Miss McPherson were far too different to ever be reconciled as more than removed companions annoyed him, he knew not why. But he would think no more of it. Currently his chest was tight with ill-ease with the notion that she could be anywhere and in grave danger. His mind recollected the events that had brought her to his doorstep last month. She had said that she'd thought someone had been following her.
"She could be in danger," he said darkly, brow furrowing.
"I have already dispatched a section of the guard to search the streets for her. If she is lost and out there, they will find her," Thor said in an attempt to reassure himself.
The brothers sat in gloomy silence. Each felt powerless in their own respect. Loki, confined to his cell, could be of no use to anyone. Thor was no better off, hating to think on what might have become of Evie. He had failed to protect her and his guilt for it was overwhelming.
Another half hour passed. For once, Loki had not minded his older brother's company. He desperately wanted to prolong the inevitable future of being alone with his troubling thoughts. He tried not to worry about Miss McPherson, but the stomach-turning knot in his stomach would not relent.
Just as Thor rose to leave, near noontime, Loki's jail door flew open to reveal a haggard Evelyn. Her clothes were covered in street grime, her normally tamed hair now a tangled mess. Her brown eyes had a wild look to them as they scanned the room. Loki rose to his feet just as a breathless, heavyset guard flung himself into the room behind her, grabbing a hold of Evelyn's shoulder and restraining her from advancing any further into the room. The powerful rush of relief that swelled through his body was disorienting, and was quickly replaced by confusion, when he noticed the heavy manacles weighing down her small, delicate wrists. Anger flared within him, rearing its head.
"My sincerest apologies my princes, we found her asleep in an alley near the outskirt of town. She insisted on speaking with you, Thor. I tried to stop her, but when she found out that you were with your brother, she ran like mad," the guard said, panting his apology, his cheeks an unbecoming shade of purple.
Thor stared, mouth agape at the sight, his mind struggling to process this information. He opened and then closed his mouth, at a loss for words. Loki scowled at the .
"What is the meaning of this?" he growled, gesturing to Evelyn's chained wrists.
The guard flushed indignantly. "I do not answer to criminals," he said defiantly.
Thor spluttered with rage at the remark. "Answer your prince, man!" he ordered, his normally composed attitude flaring angrily.
The guard looked properly chastised. "Miss McPherson is to be held under the suspicion of murder."
Loki could not believe his ears. Miss McPherson? Murder? The notion was so ridiculous that he would have laughed had she not been standing before him clearly distressed, frantic and manacled like a common criminal. Loki met her frightened chocolate eyes and his chest tightened with an unfamiliar desire to protect her. All he knew was that seeing her so debased as to be treated like a criminal, someone like him, was perturbing. Her eyes were pleading with them and Loki was beginning to grow frustrated by his brother's dumbfounded silence.
"This is outrageous," he snarled, stepping predatorily towards the guard and Miss McPherson, with full intention of forcibly removing her from the warden's grip. The guard stepped back cautiously, pulling her with him.
Loki paused in his step and Thor advanced instead. "This must be a mistake, an unfortunate misunderstanding. Evie is not capable of murder," he assured the guard.
The guard looked like a deer in headlights. "She was found near the corpse of a dead man, cause of death is being investigated. There have been no witnesses as of yet, but her proximity alone, which was some five feet from the dead man, implicates her as a likely suspect, and as of now, our only suspect," the guard explained nervously.
Loki felt the fire in his belly rage. He had no doubt that Miss McPherson had witnessed an atrocity last night, but for some reason she had not shared her account with the guards. There was something vital that she needed to say, and soon judging by the rapidity with which the entire situation at hand had unwound out of control.
"Evie," Thor turned to the distressed woman finally, "tell us what happened."
Evelyn licked her lips, averting her gaze to the ground before looking back at Thor. "Can I speak to you both alone?" she asked, eyeing the guard sceptically.
The guard bristled. "She refuses to speak to anyone, said she'd only talk to you or Loki, my Lord." He gave Loki a hateful glare.
Loki frowned at that. It had to be serious if she would only have himself and Thor as confidantes. The guard's presence was just delaying what might prove to be invaluable information. "Release her," Loki demanded, his voice a low growl.
The guard stuttered indignantly in protest.
"Do as he says!" Thor roared.
With clumsy, fumbling fingers, the guard unlocked the manacles, freeing Evelyn. The young woman rubbed her red, raw wrists, wincing as her fingers brushed the sensitive and abused skin.
"Leave us," Thor commanded, gently pulling the trembling woman into his powerful arms, holding her securely against his chest. She eagerly leaned into his embrace.
"But—
"Leave!" Thor repeated, his patience thoroughly worn.
The guard scrambled from the room, shutting the door to Loki's cell behind him.
Loki felt strangely annoyed as he watched Miss McPherson's small body quake in the strong, smothering embrace of his older brother. Her hands clutched desperately at his armour, like a drowning woman, desperate for a semblance of deliverance from the suffocating depths of her sorrows.
When Thor spoke again, all previous anger was gone from his voice. "Tell us what happened last night, Evie," he asked, his voice deep and soothing. Thor gently released her from his arms and led her to Loki's bed where he sat her down.
Loki stood beside his brother, gazing down expectantly at the distressed mortal. She closed her eyes tightly and a single tear snaked down the planes of her face. When she opened her eyes, the wildness that had previously inhabited the chocolate depths was replaced by a fierce determination.
"I brought Fandral to his home last night. He was too drunk to stay upright." she said resentfully. "Then I tried to find my way back, but I got lost."
"Why did you not stay the night with Fandral? It would have been safer, surely, than venturing alone into the night," Thor asked.
Evelyn bit her lip. "I'm not so sure it would have been safer. Simply put, Fandral made his intentions known last night during his drunken stupor. I had no intentions of complying with them," she admitted, flushing ashamedly.
"That lecherous cretin," Loki muttered darkly, before turning his resentment onto Evelyn. "Did I not give you fair warning about him?" he said, frustrated. "You refused to take heed and now see what's become of you? Nothing but trouble, I said. But no! You're so righteous; always inclined to see the better in people even when there is none to be found." He knew his words were stemming from thoughts relating more so to his personal circumstances and his rehabilitation than with Fandral. "You're like a bloody martyr," he growled, his emerald eyes ablaze as the fear he had felt on her behalf, the anger towards Fandral, and his own dissatisfaction with his useless circumstances exploded forth from him in one bitter mass of outward blame.
Evelyn looked at him with such sadness and exhaustion that he instantly regretted his thoughtless words. A situation like this required compassion, an emotion he was not capable of—that was his brother's area of expertise.
"That was unwarranted, brother," Thor chastised.
Loki gritted his teeth but refused to apologize, he had meant what he said despite its apparent insensitivity. Evelyn continued, notably less confident now.
"I was lost," she said again, "and I wandered about for at least an hour. It was so dark that I could barely discern anything around me. And then I heard voices."
This was what they had been waiting for. Sensing her rising dread, the brothers leaned in closer to her, attentively trying to hear every word as her voice dropped into a near-whisper. As she spoke her gaze turned distant, unseeing, and Loki knew that she was reliving those fateful moments in her mind's eye.
"I followed the voices. It was two men, but as I got closer I realized that they were arguing. My instincts told me to turn around so I hid in a nearby alley. They began to come towards me and stopped right outside the alley. There were two of them—the smaller man, the one who was murdered, he was working for the other man." Evelyn swallowed. "I'll never forget the man he answered to. He was obscured in shadows so I never saw his face, but he was tall, taller than either of you, and broad. His voice…" she closed her eyes as if reliving a nightmare. "I'll never forget it—like the rumble of thunder overhead, but with all the deadliness of a strike of lightning."
"Go on," Thor urged encouragingly when Evelyn hesitated.
"I was able to hear some of what they said. The smaller man reported on debriefing soldiers from Jotunheim about a flaw in Asgard's borders." Loki frowned at the mention of Frost Giants. She continued. "He called it a dead zone. When the larger man asked if anyone else knew of the plan, the smaller man denied it. The leader said 'good,'" she paused, taking a shaky breath, "…then killed him…"
Her voice faded out. "Oh, God," she gasped, covering her face with her hands and bending over double as shock shot through her body like an icy charge. Thor and Loki stood apprehensively before her, unsure of how to comfort her. Loki had never seen her so shaken, rendered so utterly distraught and vulnerable. He grew panicked, unaccustomed as he was to seeing her so irreparably broken. He had murdered countless times and eventually it had no longer left him feeling nauseated and disgusted, but Miss McPherson, she was innocent to such things. Murder was as good as fiction to her—until now. What was more was this new information about a possible assault on Asgard by the Frost Giants. He hardly thought it possible, but if Miss McPherson had not been deceived and there was in fact a dead zone in Asgard's borders known to Odin's enemies, then danger could very well be imminent. Loki cast his brother a severe look that Thor reciprocated, each in turn silently acknowledging the possible threat looming just beyond their borders.
When he turned back to Miss McPherson, she was trembling and gasping quietly as she attempted to steady her erratic breathing. It pained him to witness her undoing and, without truly being aware of his actions, he cautiously advanced and placed a solid hand on her shoulder. She lifted her head, meeting his emerald green eyes with her large misty brown ones.
She carelessly wiped away her tears. "You believe me, don't you? I could never—I would never…"
Loki squeezed her shoulder and knelt before her, his dark eyes filled with resentment for that which she had been witness to. He could not speak, so filled with detestation as he was for the way she had been treated by the guards and for the evils she had witnessed.
"Of course we do, Evie," Thor said from behind Loki.
"And the things they said, what does it all mean?" she asked, slowly regaining her composure. Little did Loki know, but his small gesture of comfort had provided her with renewed strength. Loki looked over his shoulder at his brother. They exchanged a brief glance of doubt.
"I will bring this knowledge to my father. Speak of this to no one. It stays between us," Thor ordered, his voice lowering with authority of a would-be king. "If there is truth to what you heard those men say, then the entirety of Asgard will be indebted to you."
Evelyn nodded meekly. "What will happen to me? Are they really going to arrest me?" she asked, the immobilizing fear from earlier manifesting itself in her features.
Loki's grip on her tightened and she looked at him once more. "You're going to be just fine, Miss McPherson. No harm will come to you; that I can guarantee." She only nodded mutely and, despite the fact that Loki was locked away from the world with no ability to influence anything or anyone beyond his cell, Evelyn believed him.
Thor ran a hand across his weary face. "I must return to the Festival to save face, but I will meet with my father this evening. Shall I walk you to your chambers, Evie?"
Evelyn's eyes widened fearfully. "I—I'd rather not be alone, actually."
Thor nodded, understanding. "Then you will stay with Loki for the rest of the day until I return for you."
Loki turned to stare sceptically at the brawny god. "Is that a good idea?" he asked uncertainly, rising to his feet. He did not want to provide her with a false sense of security, not to mention her state of vulnerability left his chest tight with an emotion that he could not name, but one that was tempting him to do something impossibly irrational, like embrace her.
"Of course. Evie feels safe with you. I'll send a maid to draw a hot bath and bring some fresh clothes around. How does that sound?" he asked.
"I don't—
Loki began, but was cut off by Evelyn. "I would like that very much."
Loki gaped at her for a moment, but then quickly shut his mouth when he realized his undignified manners. He stood in front of her about to protest, but then realized something. If he wanted to protect her, for whatever outlandish, uncharacteristic reasons that he had yet to determine, then the only place he could do so would be within the confines of this very room.
"Would you mind terribly?"
Loki looked straight at her, weighing his thoughts and options. "I suppose not."
She frowned at him. "You have a choice, you realize. I won't force you to let me stay."
Loki nodded, swallowing roughly. "I know."
Thor watched the two companions quizzically.
'Then it's settled. I'll return by nightfall. Rest easy, Evie. I will have all charges against you erased from record. You do not deserve to have such tarnishing profanity smeared across your good name."
He let himself out, giving each of them a determined nod, then shut the door firmly behind him, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.
Loki continued to stand beside his bed, on which Evelyn sat in a tense ball. He rocked nervously on his heels. Nervousness was a foreign emotion indeed. He was always assured, always knew what he wanted and how to go about attaining it. But now, he didn't quite know what to say to her for fear of upsetting her unravelled composure.
He chose the generic line of questioning that he assumed common people normally pursued. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, looking down his nose at her.
Miss McPherson merely shrugged. "I still can't believe what I saw. It's surreal, but with every passing hour the reality of witnessing a murder strikes me anew."
Loki only nodded, for once his silver tongue failing to provide him with words to weave.
"I was so scared," she breathed quietly, so quietly, in fact, that Loki almost failed to hear her. "Does it get easier?" she asked, releasing a shuddering breath.
Loki knew she was speaking of seeing bloodshed and murder. "No," he answered honestly. Driven by a foreign impulse that would not be denied by his pragmatic mind, he carefully, so as not to frighten her, lowered himself onto the bed beside her, just a foot away. "But you get stronger."
Evelyn turned her head to look at him. Her dark, chocolate-coloured eyes stared sadly into his own for a moment, before lowering her gaze. Loki wanted to pull her into his chest like his brother had done, but that would be wrong of him. He was not a compassionate man. He had never comforted anyone in his life. He would surely do it wrong. Besides, he could never hold her in his arms—it was not his place. He had no claim to her. Thor was her friend which was his claim to her, but Miss McPherson was but his professional companion. He had no right to her and the kind of intimacy that applies to friendships.
"Back on Earth, working for S.H.I.E.L.D.," she spoke suddenly, "I mainly had a desk job, you know, criminal profiling and whatnot. Natasha taught me some basic self-defence, but I never let her teach me how to use a gun. I just wanted to be able to defend myself." She frowned, and paused, struggling for words. Loki patiently sat beside her, waiting for her to find them. "I'm not a fighter. I've never seen the gore of battles that some of the Avengers have seen. I could never be like that. To take a life…even if necessary, it seems so heartless."
Loki felt a small stab of injury at her words. Murder was heartless. He was heartless, but that was no revelation. No matter her best efforts at helping him, he would carry the weight of his nameless victims with him for the rest of his life. Perhaps he was slowly regretting his actions, but no amount of repentance would erase his stained ledger. That alone was one reason why he thought it a useless waste of time to repent his actions. It would not change what was truth.
He said nothing in reply. Instead, they eased back into silence, each entertaining their own weighty thoughts. Despite the silence that pervaded the room, there was an unorthodox comfort in knowing that neither would be alone throughout the dreary afternoon.
Eventually, the maid came and ran a bath for Miss McPherson. She emerged from his washing chamber a half hour later wrapped in a cotton tunic the colour of cream, her face clean and cheeks glowing a healthy hue of pink. Her long brown hair hung in wet waves down the length of her back. Her glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. The unfamiliar, but not wholly unwelcome, smell of vanilla permeated his room as she slowly and tiredly propelled herself across the room.
Loki watched her progression towards his bed from where he sat rigidly in his wingback chair. His stomach flipped uncomfortably at the sight of her. There was something virtuously angelic about her presence that reminded him of the night she had appeared at his cell in her white night-dress. She was like an untouchable creature, a creature that was unknowingly drawing him in but that he could never attain. A low growl of possessiveness filled his throat as he watched her climb onto his emerald sheets, a sliver of her creamy thigh protruding from the overlapping folds of her robe. He suppressed the guttural, animalistic sound.
Without a word she curled onto her side in a ball, her back to him. She shifted around for several brief moments before her body shuddered as she, presumably, released a weighty breath. Her small form stilled after that, likely having fallen asleep. A part of him was urging him to rise from where he sat and go to her side, but he overpowered the sentiment and firmly gripped the arms of his chair, as if to physically restrain himself. It was futile, he knew. No amount of physical restraint would counter the fact that somehow the mortal woman had captivated him. He had formed a shameful attachment to her, one that he did not care to examine for fear of what it might reveal about himself.
He was only adding to his misery by concerning himself with her, but he was going to hell anyway, if he was not already living in it.
Thanks for all the feedback; you guys are so kind! I love your enthusiasm and knowing that so many of you are invested in this story. Keep the comments coming! They fuel my creative juices. Just a heads up though, I have four papers due in the next two weeks (the joys of being an English Major), so I can't guarantee a speedy update. Rest assured, I will return no later than eight days hence :P
Ta!
