Sorry it took so long to update, but you get two chapters! Bit of a rough break between them, so I won't say more until after the second one.
When she awoke, a fresh fire was blazing in the hearth, warming the room. The candles had been lit, giving it a less oppressive feel. As she sat up, she saw that one of the low couches had been replaced with an enormous bathtub, and beside it stood a small table with fruit, bread, and honey atop it. She got up, hurrying over to the tub. It had been such a very long time since she had enjoyed a real bath...
To her surprise, it was already full of steaming water. A towel was draped over one end, and she spied a ball of soap on the table. She glanced around, but Loki was nowhere to be found. She let the beautiful nightgown she wore slip to the floor, and climbed in. The water was almost too hot, and she sank down slowly, hissing a little as it came into contact with certain sore places. She wasn't surprised-Loki certainly hadn't been gentle the first two times, although now she realized she was at least partly to blame for it.
She sighed deeply as the hot water engulfed her body, right up to her neck. What could she say? She had never been one to simply lie back and let a man take what he wanted. Very early she had realized that the world could take almost anything you owned away, but they could not take your spirit. That could only be given willingly, and the sooner you learned how to withhold it, the more likely you were to survive.
Now, in the quiet aftermath of Loki's absence, she began to fear that she had been wrong, that Loki sought to take her spirit. That given enough time, he might succeed. What would happen to her then? She shivered, despite the heat of the bath, picturing a life spent trapped in this pit, at the mercy of every amusement his twisted mind could conjure. And yet...
And yet there was still something which drew her to him. True, that outcome was one possibility, and maybe even the one Loki was actively pursuing. But perhaps it was not the only way... She took up the ball of soap and sniffed it. Lemongrass. She would have expected something more exotic and refined. The unexpected clean scent of it surprised her, and as she began to scrub her skin, she thought.
Loki's personality was not unlike a tangled ball of thread. At first glance it looked like a terrible mess, but Natasha knew from long experience that if you took the time to look, to tug gently in the right places, any knot could be unraveled. If she were to apply the same patient diligence, perhaps she could learn to understand the labyrinthine complexities of his mind. But what would she find at the center of the maze?
She was uncertain, but she thought she had caught glimpses of it-some burning need that resonated with something deep within herself. She had expected his end of their bargain to leave her feeling humiliated and defiled, but instead it brought about the exact opposite reaction. She felt as though she had, for a spare moment, transcended from the gritty, awful world she had become so familiar with and into another where everything resonated with magic and beauty. And Loki had known-she could see it in his face, afterwards-that this would happen. It made her wonder about his motivations and his origins.
By this time she had thoroughly cleaned her skin and hair, and draping the wet mass of her curls over the edge of the tub to dry, she began to sample the delicious variety of food on the table beside her. She was contemplating a strangely shaped fruit when Loki suddenly walked into the room without knocking. Surprised, she dropped the fruit and drew her knees up to her chest, sloshing water out of the tub.
Equally surprised by her reaction, Loki burst into laughter. It was strange to hear him laugh without malice or bitterness behind it. She rather liked the sound.
"I should think by now you wouldn't have any modesty left, especially where I am concerned," he teased.
Natasha straightened out her legs slowly. "You startled me, that's all," she said defensively.
"I see..." he came to stand next to the tub, pointedly staring at her nudity. She endured his gaze with a lifted chin, unwilling to shrink away as he so obviously wanted her to. The only made him grin wider, and lean on the edge of the tub. "And how long were you planning on staying in there?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Until the water gets cold," she reasoned.
He chuckled. "My dear, it isn't going to get cold. You shall shrivel up long before that happens."
She looked at the water, noticing for the first time that it still steamed. "Oh. More magic?"
"Of course." He waved a hand, and the towel that was draped over the foot of the tub lifted as though someone held it out for her. He did not wait for her to get up, and instead walked to the velvet-draped mirror, uncovering it and staring at his reflection.
She stood, feeling strangely heavy, and stepped into the waiting towel which wrapped itself around her. "What are you thinking?" she asked curiously.
Loki reached out and stroked the glass surface of the mirror. "This is my window to the world," he explained. "Through it I can see any place I can think of." He turned his head toward her slightly. "If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?"
She came to stand beside him, thinking about it. "South, somewhere warm. I hear France is a beautiful place," she murmured.
"Hmmm..." Loki smiled faintly, and stared into the mirror, which seemed to swirl and twist before revealing a scene of beautiful rolling hills. Perched atop one was a villa with a red tile roof, and the valley below was filled with row upon row of lavender. A breeze stirred the fields, and she could feel it, warm on her face, and smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers.
"Beautiful," she whispered, taking an almost involuntary step towards the idyllic scene. Loki reached out a hand to stop her before she could touch the mirror. Looking away, she saw that he had been studying her in the golden light of the sun that was inching towards the hills. Natasha realized it must be early evening; she had lost all sense of time down here.
"You belong somewhere like this," he gestured to the villa on the hill, "mistress to some lucky rich man. Or better yet," he smiled wryly, "an heiress of independent means. It would suit you well to live such a life, running an estate and crushing the heart of every man fool enough to pursue you for your money."
She laughed at the image he painted, it was as good as a fairy tale in comparison to the life she had lived. "If wishes were fishes," she joked.
He looked thoughtful. "I could make it happen."
She turned away from the mirror, facing him fully. "Truly?" she realized she had little understanding of the depths of his power.
Loki shrugged artfully. "It would be illusion, mostly, and in time it would fall apart. But for a while, yes."
She looked back at the magical window, and suddenly what it showed her made her heart ache with a strange longing she had never felt before.
"Show me something else," she begged, turning away.
He peered at her, curious at the unexpected display of emotion. "What would you like to see?"
Natasha returned his scrutiny fully. "Where you came from," she said finally. "You never speak of it."
He stiffened, as if she had struck a sore spot in him. He waved a hand to change the mirror, but turned his back to it before the image could resolve. She, however, stared wide-eyed at the impossible vista before her. A city which appeared to be made largely of pure gold encrusted the peaks of a mountain, windows sparkling like jewels on a crown. She had thought the hills of France beautiful, now they seemed crude and wild by comparison. It shone so brightly it made her eyes hurt.
"Would you go back, if you could?" she found herself asking.
"No," he said without hesitation.
"Why not?" she could not imagine forever forsaking such a place.
"Would you go back to Russia?" he asked in response.
She shuddered. "No." Turning away from the mirror, she studied his profile. What had happened to him there? It was hard to imagine such a fine place holding such terror for someone so powerful, but she knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving. A muscle clenched in his jaw, and she felt a moment of pity for him. Lifting the velvet cover, she let it fall over the glass, hiding the stunning vista.
Loki relaxed visibly and turned to face her again. "If you could go to France, live the life I showed you, would you?"
Natasha thought about it. It was tempting, she felt it pull at her like a nagging hunger. But she knew what he was really asking. "I won't go. Not unless you do as well," she said quietly.
"Why?!" he hissed, suddenly angry. He grabbed her upper arms, his fingers clenching so tightly she thought they would bruise.
"For one, because I know it wouldn't last. But I would also wonder, every day, what had become of you," she explained calmly.
He gestured to the mirror. "I would watch you, it would be a relief, a way to live vicariously..."
"No," she interrupted. "It would be a new kind of torture."
He cursed and strode away. "This coming from a woman who wishes to tie me up and play," he spat.
Ah, so that's what this is about, she realized, and smiled. "You don't want to hold up your end of the bargain?" she challenged him.
"I never expected the need to!" he shouted. "I thought it would take weeks, months even, to make you obedient enough to bend to my will. I thought I would have to break you, and by then you would have forgotten! It never occurred to me that you would put aside your pride and spirit for the sake of I know not what. Why would you do that?!"
She lifted an eyebrow. "I was curious. I wanted to see where it would go. And I wanted to earn my chance to do as I suggested."
A rush of breath left him, and with it, all his ire. "Your curiosity will be the death of you," he warned, but his voice held only regret and no malice. He sank onto the bed.
She came to stand before him, and he toyed with the edge of her towel absently. "I am not a cat, Loki."
He scowled a little. "No, you are like a spider. You wait and you plan, spinning your web, letting me think you are helpless and all the while laying your traps." his voice was at odds with the bitter words, soft and mildly impressed.
She laughed a little, surprised by the irony. Of all the comparisons he could make, he chose one that was familiar to her. "I'm not going to eat you up," she teased, but then paused. "At least, not in the way a spider would," she amended.
This got his attention, and he glanced up at her. She smiled. "See, I am not the only one who is curious. It is your poison as surely as it is mine."
He growled and snatched at her, but she skipped away, and he caught only her towel. She slipped out of it, grinning triumphantly. Her grin disappeared as she backed into something, and turned to find Loki standing behind her. He caught her by the wrists, yanking her naked body against him. Fear shone bright in her eyes, and he felt a heady rush at the sight of it. He claimed her lips, crushing his mouth against hers forcefully. She melted against him almost instantly, and he groaned.
"You infuriate me," he ground out.
She seemed to take it as a compliment, smiling in a self-satisfied way. He shook her roughly, but it did not phase her much. "I cannot take from you if you give it willingly!" he revealed, his voice wavering with the force of his frustration.
"I know," she said, and there was no longer any teasing in her voice. "But you are so changeable! First you want me to obey, and now you curse me for it. I suppose I can resist, if that is what you like."
He shoved her away angrily, and began pacing. "No, you can pretend to resist, which is not the same thing."
Natasha looked pensive a moment. "You are currently in my debt. Perhaps when you have fulfilled our bargain the balance between us will change in your favor."
He cut her a sharp glance. "Do not try to manipulate me, woman. You are dealing with a master."
She spread her hands wide. "I speak only the truth."
"Which can easily be as effective as lies," he countered.
She put her hands on her hips, and he paused in his pacing, amazed at the woman who stood before him, without a stitch on, as confident as if she were clothed in furs and diamonds. "You're not angry at me," she declared. "You were pleased when I did as you told me to. You are angry at yourself because you cannot abide owing me, but you are loathe to fulfill our deal."
Loki was silent a moment, completely taken aback at her ability to see right through him. Suddenly he felt as though he were the one standing naked before her. He scowled at her. "Well then what do you suggest I do, since you know me so well?" he taunted sarcastically.
"Follow through," she said immediately. "You will be in this state of torment until you do."
He cursed at the simplicity of her logic. "Fine," he ground out, and walked to the bed. He laid a hand on one of the posts, and beneath his touch the wood changed to dark wrought iron, twisted curlicues replacing the carvings. Black ropes snaked up from under the bed, and the furs and sheets disappeared before their advance. Once the transformation was complete, he turned to her with an expectant look.
"Now?" she asked, surprised.
"Why not?" Loki asked with a false cheerfulness. "You're dressed for it," he joked, and swiped a hand down his body, "And now so am I."
Natasha stared openly at his naked form. She had never seen him thus in such a bright light. She could see the scars she had found the first time clearly, and once more wondered what past event had left its tracks in his skin. Perhaps that was why he did not relish the ordeal before him. She wondered what it was he expected her to do, or if he even had an idea, and realized she didn't really know either.
"Alright, then," she made her voice sound more confident than she felt. "Lay down," she gestured to the bed, and tried not to smile at Loki's stunned expression.