So it goes with saying that only things I own with any connection to MARVEL I bought on Ebay or Etsy. MARVEL COMICS & MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE are their own creatures and I have nothing to do with either of them aside from the fact I enjoy reading or watching them, and am grateful for the ability to play in their world. I claim nothing, and I receive nothing for this, expect the pleasure of putting something out into the world.

You can also find this story on ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN under the same title and pen name along with a place to post suggestions.

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DAY THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0512 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

NORA

I feel cold. This is a dream, I can tell that right away, because I'm outside.

I can see the sky, and feel the air. But the air bites here, wherever I am, and it offers no comfort. Not to me, or the land around me. This place is barren and white. There is nothing here for anyone, and somehow I know if I could look behind me I know I'd see shelter. But that shelter is a lie, and I know its worse then the cold.

I can't look behind me though, not that I don't wish to, I'm scared to. But I can't look because I can't move.

I'm heavy and still, and I feel like I'm not really in my own skin. Its like I'm a consciousness outside of myself that its aware its a consciousness. Its just observing. It feels like Clint drugged me.

I'm being carried. I know that, somehow in this disturbingly calm haze I know that, and I'm not afraid. These arms, this hand, they feel familiar.

I want to look closer, but I can't. My face is resting against someone's neck, and all I can see is the blur of blackness. That's all this person is, a black mass that I somehow know is a man, and familiar.

We're both cold; I can feel him shivering with me, and even though I'm not aware of my own skin I know I am. I ache beyond the numb, and beyond the ache I feel nothing. The me in this moment thinks nothing of that, the me that shouldn't be here fears that. It fears the knowledge that it might be frostbite.

This is a dream. It feels too real. This is a dream. I have all my fingers, I have all my toes. I have my hands and feet. This isn't real, this cold isn't real This man isn't real. I can wake up. I can leave this place. I can leave if I want.

"Why?"

I'm not in the man's arms anymore. I can see the shape of me, of us behind me, but I am standing in front of those human shells now, and I can't turn. The little girl asks me again, "Why?"

There were two of them but the one who spoke is bare foot, with flowers and wheat grass in her brown hair, and a silver key in her hand. They stand looking away from me and a line of red leaks from between her shoulders and stains the snow. I think she is me because I can feel that blood on my back!

"Why?"

A little boy. With corn silk hair, and black boils on his skin is sitting on a man's shoulders, a man who is dressed in simple clothes, and soot. They look away too.

"Why what?" I try to ask. I don't understand. The question is too vague. I want to answer, I do, I want to tell them there's a reason, but I don't know why they ask why?

"Why?"

Another one, a pair. A man with tan skin and black hair with braids, and strangely cut clothes. He holds hands with a woman with dark blonde curls and a flowing blue dress, whose tears I can't see, but for the way they soak into the snow at her feet.

I tried to move. I did move. It was like a rubber band snapped me back. I can see black blurring in my vision again, and I'm being held.

"Why?"

Another voice, another person and I can't move. I can't speak to them. My thoughts are there, my desire to ask is there. I want to know why, I want to know who they are I do, I want so much for them to forgive me and I don't know why I want that but I can't ask them! It won't let me ask them!

"Why?", " Why?"Stop. "Why?" Stop it. "Why?" Stop it! Please! Stop! " Why?" I don't know who you are! I don't know what you want! Stop it! "Why?" STOP IT! LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT THIS! I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOU! GO AWAY!

"Why would you say that?" I'm not being held any more. I'm standing on my feet again and looking at myself.. The voice is mine this time.

I'm standing there across from me and 'my' back isn't turned. I can see 'my' own face and its painted by pain! My eyes are sunken, my cheeks too. My lips are blue and cracked. I'm covered in bruises! I can see the on my thin legs and arms under the thread pair and stained excuse of a medical gown! I can see metal sticking out of my calves and chains on my wrist! I'm looking at me, and can see the angry betrayal in 'my' bloodshot and blackened eyes.

"Why would you let us go?" but the words 'I' speak aren't angry, theIr sad and tired. 'I'm' tired and it scares me. I'm closing my eyes!

"No..." I can't do that, I know I can't. I'm cold, but I need to keep my eyes open. If I let them close they won't open again. I need to stay awake. I need to! They're all counting on me. He's counting on me, the man carrying me, we made promises. I was going to go 'home' with him.

We were going to be free. We were going to be together, and happy, the three of us. Me, him, and his small friend he had to leave behind. We would all take care of eachother.

"You are free." It's his voice. I can't feel his breath, or the warmth that should be there, but I feel those words rumble out of his throat as he carries me. "I set you free."

Theres a little hand wrapped around my finger, with little fingernails and plumb knuckles. There's a man's hand holding my wrist that is colder and harder then the ice. and I notice there is no scar there anymore. There's a knife in the snow and I'm staining them with the blood as it runs from the band of skin missing from my arm.

But the blood doesn't bother me, I know its okay. This blood set me free.

THURSDAY, MAY 3RD 2012

0518 HOURS

SUBTERRANEAN BUNKER

LOCATION UNKNOWN

LOKI

I didn't think she would do this. The last time we were in a position like this, was in Asgard, in my chambers, and I had to persuade her with a gentle but unrelenting kiss.

Things were about to change, for both of us. In fact they already had. Odin cast his verdict and his word therefore became reality. I was furious! It was not at all what I wanted! Something unforeseen and nearly unforgivable happened, and all I wanted to do was come out on top of the situation; instead I had to stand by stoically while Odin shackled me with a promise. Not my promise, his promise, and not by my will at all.

Like the loyal and courageous woman she was she followed me back to my hall. She shouldn't have, I intended to tear that space apart, and all that was in it. But she only looked at me with caution, she did not look afraid. She tried to reason with me! What a brave beautiful young woman she was then. She tried to tell me that a marriage to Freya's daughter would not be so bad.

She said she knew the girl, this Sigyn, and that she was sweet and kind and not like her mother. I told her Sigyn wasn't her. I told her the truth.

She didn't know what to do with it then either, but she did not run into the room as she did this time, she simply shrank into herself and tried to build walls between us with excuses of honor and obligation.

I wouldn't have it, I had been honest with her, and I would be damned if she wasn't going to be honest too, with herself and with me.

I backed her into the wall and took her face in my hands and took that kiss. I was young, we both were. Asgard marks no age between childhood and adult, but we were somewhere in between, trying to walk the path that others wanted for us, and pretend we couldn't see the one we both really wanted. I wanted to show it to her. I just wanted her to let herself see it.

She put her hands on me and tried to push me back, I startled her after all and was stealing this kiss, but I was sure of my assumption so I did not stop. I made more of me to hold her hands down.

I wasn't rough with her, even though these weren't illusions but solid doppelgangers I didn't want to hurt her so they didn't either. They wove their fingers through her's, and gently held her arms down, trailing light caresses over her skin, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her shoulders as I continued to beg for her acceptance with mine.

And then she finally started kissing me back and gave up the illusion that she didn't feel something for me too. I held her with me through the night, in my bed. We did not go father then kissing, because she wished it. I wanted so much more from her, but she had wet eyes, and I was not going to be that kind of a thief. I wanted her, not just the flesh she came in.

I had to push her to it then, but this time she needs no such motivation and she looks so peaceful as I watch her sleep with a soft smile. Her pet is sleeping with her, and serving the purpose I set for it. Small tendrils of green light drift from the small shivering mammal and seep into her skin, carrying well crafted memories with them. I will have her again.

NOTES FOR THE READERS:

So there are a lot of clue's to Nora's past, both in her dream, and in Loki's POV. There are also quite a few details about my take on other Asgardians. I do have Sigyn in this series, and she will show up in the prequels once I start publishing those, though my interpretation might be a little different than most. I am trying to include her in a way that will have minimal conflict with her if she ever actually makes it into the official MCU.