Hello again!
Thank you very much for your reviews, Marsha O'Connor and CurtisMcQueen8, it really motivated me to finish this chapter, much earlier than I expected!
/! Warning /! Thic chapter contains depictions of physical and psychological trauma, in the 3rd and 4th parts.
"I am so fed up of all this..." Morgan sighs.
"And yet, you are holding on quite well. Were it not for your presence, I would have turned the whole lot of them into toads." Loki snickers.
"Now, I desperately want to see that."
The two of them are walking side-by-side in the corridor, away from the common room, alone. Only by Morgan's side can Loki feel truly relaxed. No matter where he goes or what he does in the compound, he knows he is always watched, and that no one truly feels at ease in his presence. Even Thor, to a certain extent. Loki knows the God of Thunder has to balance his duties as a king and, more preoccupying, his responsibility as a brother if the God of Mischief's existence is to be disclosed to the public.
Every single perspective Loki is presented with does not sound very appealing. Either he complies with the Avengers' requirements, gaining a chance to become more than Thor's untrustworthy brother, either any mere opportunity of regaining some sort of control over his actions brands him as a criminal again, endangering Morgan's safety and his own.
"An armadillo."
"What?" Loki asks, taken aback by Morgan's sudden intervention.
"I was saying, toads are a good option, but a little overrated. I don't know why, but I really, really see Stark as an armadillo."
"I do not even know what that is." Loki points out.
"YouTube, here we come."
Loki's smile grows even wider. Morgan really is the main reason why he can withstand everything else (although she sounds much less like the voice of reason than like a little demon perched on his shoulder, whispering "do it, do it, do it" every time mischief calls him). And she carries on;
"Banner would be a hamster, Black Widow a cute chipmunk, Hawkeye a pigeon, and Thor would walk in and say the fuck?!"
"I could still convince him that only by a true love kiss would they become human again."
Morgan's shoulders are shaken by laughter, and Loki has to say, he cannot even begin to imagine what she would be capable of, would she be able to use Asgardian magic.
"For now, may I content myself with kissing an inland taipan?" She winks.
Loki closes his eyes for a second, and when he reopens them, she jumps out of shock, which confirms him that his pupils have indeed grown much wider, surrounded by orange irises, just like the gaze of Midgard's most venomous snake.
"Oh, I see, staring contest it is!" She declares.
Her eyes start to take the familiar golden tint they display when she uses her powers, and she brings her head closer to him in an overdramatic defiant gesture.
"I would still very much like to be kissed." He taunts.
"Yesssssss." She jokingly hisses.
Upon feeling her lips against his, Loki thinks that he adores that, how eagerly she plays along, how she is surprised, sure, but never disturbed, by his constant experiments on his own appearance. And he is found of Morgan's multiple aspects too, from the focused, strategist face, to the witty, provoking, almost goofy one.
He wants her to stay with him, and yet understands how selfish it is, to ask her to literally and figuratively drop everything she has, be it a profession (and he must confess, being a snake-hunter fits the embodiment he has of the Midgardian notion of cool), or a place to live (well, the hottest place to live actually, in the middle of nowhere, also known as the Australian desert), even making simple actions, such as seeing her friend Som, much more difficult. Until now, he has assumed that her impressive adaptability made all of the above useless to mention.
Yet he realizes, rather, remembers, that Morgan, like him, is very good at pretending. And that he can be an idiot.
"Could we talk?" He impulsively, as always, suggests, after reluctantly breaking their kiss.
"Ouch." Morgan groans.
"Didn't think it would be that dreadful." He observes.
"Not... you..." She painstakingly articulates, putting her hand over her head.
"Migraine again?" Loki recalls.
"Yeah... Just need... My meds..."
Loki frowns, as she closes her eyes and takes long, deep breaths to calm her sudden pain. These migraine attacks, as she calls them, became increasingly frequent following the battle against Thanos, rather, following her encounter with the Soul Stone. Contrary to the other Stone wielders, Morgan had spent a long time connected to it, not to say fused with it. And this is affecting her, in many ways. Loki noticed that she needs much more than the recommended prescription of medicines for a human her size, to make the headache go away. Will it ever stop? Or will it grow? Certainly, it is too early to say...
"Should I bring them to you?" He offers.
"I can still walk." She declines "I won't be long."
Good enough, because actually Loki does not even remember where she has put them.
As Morgan steps away, he thinks. About many things. The Stones, especially. As the Scarlet Witch put it, there is no possible back to normal. Bending the fabric of reality on such a large scale, not once but twice, surely had consequences. Some of them are visible, some others may not be. That, the god of Mischief concludes, means both new threats and new opportunities. Up to him to see what to make of them.
The wind caresses his face, pulling him out of his reflexions, and he notices that the sliding door to a balcony is open, revealing two things. First, that the rain has stopped, second, that someone is enjoying this sudden lull.
It is the first time he sees Wanda Maximov on her own, and he would not be Loki if he did not jump on the occasion.
"I don't think I'm the most entertaining company." The woman asserts on a morose tone, her back turned to him, contemplating whatever there is to contemplate from here (a lake and some kind of forest, at the very most).
Loki does not reply, slowly advancing on the wet ground.
"What are you exactly looking for?" She questions, still looking away.
"I was just eager to know what Midgardians describe as a witch." Loki presents.
She huffs, and waves her right hand, in a fashion similar to the god's. Waves of red light elegantly start to swirl around her fingers.
"Doesn't take a lot to be described as a witch, you know."
Loki nods, absent-mindedly. He knows.
"So... You're a wizard?" She adds, finally turning towards him.
"A sorcerer." Loki corrects "May I?"
Maximov acquiesces, and he leans against the balcony, at a respectable distance from her, but near enough to gain a better view of the frequent glances she gives him.
"How close am I to the picture you had of me?" He provokes.
"Not close at all." The woman smiles "Pretty far, actually."
"I heard you are quite a challenge for most living beings." Loki declares "Even for my mighty brother. It would be interesting, to say the least, to see if his weapon matches your strength."
She smiles again, visibly flattered. The God of Mischief cannot help wondering what the outcome of a clash between Storm-breaker and her telekinetic abilities would be.
"My strength didn't make any difference." She suddenly speaks "In the end, I couldn't protect anyone."
Loki watches with caution the red sparkles grow increasingly menacing, as they almost seem to have a mind of their own, battling furiously around her closed fist.
"Strong does not mean invincible." He carefully reminds "You may be able to burst through armours and to lift buildings from the ground, but can you make a knot?"
"A... knot?"
Loki smirks at her utterly confused look. He immediately illustrates his statement by conjuring a long, thin ribbon. It is made of a yellow Asgardian fabric, soft in his hand, and Maximov watches with incomprehension as it levitates in front of them.
No flash of green there. Telekinesis requires a tremendous amount of energy. Contrary to the Witch, Loki is only able to move what he can physically move. But for such light objects, it does not take any toll on his body. Nevertheless, brute strength and sharp precision are two different things...
The ribbon twirls in the air, then creates the shape of a complex knot, before untying itself, and slowly falling into the woman's hand, around which the disturbing red flickers have disappeared.
Loki has to admit, he feels quite proud of the Witch's admirative look. On Asgard (and, apparently, on Midgard as well), strength is acclaimed when it is shown. Power has to be loud and visible. Yet, as his mother Frigga has once wisely put it, turning the lock of a door is as useful, if not more, than bursting it open.
"Your turn." He suggests.
Maximov looks at him hesitantly and moves her hand. Red light starts to shimmer around the ribbon as it raises in the air again. However, as soon as she tries to manipulate it, the piece of clothing is torn to shreds.
"I'm sorry!" She exclaims.
"No need to be." Loki shrugs "It is only your first attempt. Try to bring the pieces together."
She stares at the floor of the balcony, where yellow strips of fabric are spread, and moves her hand again. Yet, as soon as the red sparkles surround them, they do not move closer to one another, but are ripped apart in even smaller shreds.
"It is useless." The woman hisses "All I am good at is destroying. I can't... Fix... Anything..."
Loki starts to feel a disagreeable shiver down his back, as red lights glow even brighter around both her hands.
"Are you unwell?" He prudently queries.
"I'm fine." She hastily cuts "You should leave."
"You do not seem fine, by any means." Loki observes.
He realizes his mistake when he sees the glow double in intensity.
"Just leave!" The Witch angrily shouts, briskly waving her right hand to illustrate her statement.
The problem is, it does much more than illustrate her statement.
Loki feels his body pushed away by a colossal force, which even blocks his breath, and roughly smashed against the wall. He barely has the time to take an inspiration that he sees the red light shining before his eyes, and diving straight into them.
It is fascinating. Hypnotizing. Almost... comforting.
But then, it starts to get threatening. Even more. Terrifying.
A shiver of pure fear runs down his spine, as the light imprisons every fibre of his body and mind, and does not let go.
"You call yourself a king... You think yourself so strong... But your mind is so weak..."
It hurts. It burns. His entire body is on fire, his skin is falling apart, his eyes are melting in their sockets, and he cannot even scream.
"So easy to bend. Pathetic."
The red light is eating him alive. It is biting his bones and chewing his guts.
"It is not going to be over soon."
What?
Suddenly, he can see again. And he sees... a mirror?
Gone is the pain, gone are the voices, there is just the mirror and him. A high, full-length mirror.
And...
And the white.
And the complete, total, infinite white.
"No..." He starts to mutter, choking out of panic "No, not that... It is not..."
"It is not real? Is that what you're about to say?"
It is his own voice. But it is not him.
"Are you sure it's not real?" His reflection continues, a sardonic smile on his lips "Doesn't it feel extremely, painfully real to you?"
It is him and it is not him. The Loki he sees is dressed in his green and golden battle outfit, with his helmet on. He seems satisfied. Even more, amused.
"You are not..." Loki starts "No, you cannot be... I... I am not..."
"Yes, you are. You are me, and I am you." Reflection-Loki grins "You know what we are?"
A hand suddenly clasps his neck, another one slams on his mouth, preventing him to speak.
Blue hands.
He turns his eyes to his right, where he meets a red gaze, in the middle a blue-skinned face, his own face.
"We are all mad here." Frost-Giant Loki whispers in his ear.
"No... We... I..." Loki articulates "You're lying... I can't be... Morgan!" He calls.
Morgan knows what to do. She always comes. She will get him out. They have already gotten out. She will come.
"And... SURPRISE!" Morgan gleefully shouts.
But it does not reassure him. Not at all.
Because it is Morgan, instead of Frost-Giant Loki, who is now wrapped around him. It is Morgan, instead of Reflexion-Loki, who smirks at him through the looking-glass.
"Do you finally get it?" The first one susurrates.
"It took you time, didn't it?" The second snickers.
"Stop that. Whoever you are, stop that." He begs, unable to move.
"Whoever I am?" The first Morgan laughs "Oh my, I thought you were smarter than that."
"You really wanna hear it?" Reflection-Morgan asks "The reality is, you never escaped this place."
"Stop talking! STOP TALKING!" He yells.
"You're only talking to yourself, Loki." Reflection-Morgan smiles "Can't you see?! I am Infinity. And I will feed on your insanity..."
"For Eternity..." The first Morgan adds, slowly encircling him, as it is not Morgan anymore, but a giant, golden-eyed snake.
Its fangs bite his neck, deeply.
"Thor!" He calls, out of despair.
"Thor!" The snake mocks, in an exaggerated voice which resembles both his own and Morgan's.
It bites his necks again, even deeper. Loki screams out of pain, as he vainly tries to get it out of his neck. But the more he tries to pull, the more the reptile squeezes his throat, so much that he can hardly breathe.
But it is Thor he sees, when he turns his gaze to the mirror again. Loki rushes towards the glass, which seems to be more like a window, as the image of his brother is not staring at him, but walking away, his back turned on him.
"W-wait..." He articulates, choking under the pressure of the snake.
"Thor is Thor." The animal hisses again "He moves on. But Loki... stays Loki."
"Sh-shut... Shut up..." He chokes.
He feels the fangs plunging into his neck a third time, and digging into his flesh. Blood flows on his clothes like a waterfall.
As for Thor's reflection, it is walking further away, joined by other figures which Loki recognizes as Valkyrie, then some members of the Avengers, and then the Asgardians, without a single look behind him.
"Brother! Look... at... me!" He shouts again, repeatedly punching the glass out of sheer anguish, cutting his hands, even grabbing the shards to throw them away.
The mirror is completely shattered, and he is covered with blood, and Morgan is gone, and Thor is gone, and...
"And now, I can use some of those pieces." Thanos grins.
The Titan tranquilly walks from behind him, then picks a handful of blood-stained shards. Loki does not make on move to stop him. He remains on his knees, completely immobile.
"You made it so easy." Thanos spits, before walking away.
Alright.
That's it.
Nothing ever changed.
Maybe he can cry, now. It doesn't matter, anyway.
There has never been anyone here.
"I'm sorry..."
He can smell the rain and feel the wet concrete under his hand. Feel. He can feel.
"What did you do to him?"
He is laying on the ground, his back against the wall, on the balcony, he remembers. His breath is jolty, and his eyes are still firmly shut.
He does not want to open them. He does not want to see that again, whatever that is.
"I never... I didn't want to..."
"What did you do?! ANSWER ME!"
Two different voices. He knows them, he is sure of that, but...
It is difficult to focus. His thoughts are slow and disordered. Even the air seems difficult to breathe.
The scream of pain is what makes him open his eyes.
The first image that comes to his mind, when seeing Morgan above Maximov, is that of a wolf about to devour its prey.
Her eyes are shining with an aggressive yellow, as she firmly maintains her grip on the younger woman's collar with one hand. The other is on top of the Scarlet Witch's forehead, right above her eyes. Maximov is laying on the ground, seemingly unable to move, and weakly moving her head in an effort to escape Morgan's gaze. The latter's face is deformed by rage, whereas Maximov displays nothing but terror. Loki notices that her nose is bleeding a little.
His arms and legs feel like made of uru metal. Moving seems like the hardest thing he will ever do. Why is Morgan...
It hits him like lightning. The red light. The pain. The fear.
"It is not real."
"You never escaped this place."
"Stop talking!"
He notices that he is shivering violently. He wants nothing else than to get up, and run away from here, as far as he can, away from the terrifying nightmare that is still haunting him.
"What... Did you... Do?!" Morgan yells again, and her eyes seem to become even brighter, which is immediately followed by another shout of pain from Maximov.
Loki guesses the Witch's intention, but he cannot scream, not even whisper. Cannot warn her.
Maximov briskly focuses on Morgan's left leg, not far from her face, which she instantly ensnares in flickering red lights.
Morgan lets out a barely audible exclamation of surprise before she is violently propelled against the concrete wall, head upside down, and stumbles in a heap of tangled limbs, like a rag doll.
Oh, right. Loki is still in this nightmare.
It is not real. Morgan is not here.
She cannot be unconscious.
She cannot be hurt.
She cannot be...
But everything seems very real, to him. Maximov breathing heavily on the floor of the balcony. And Morgan laying in front of him, unmoving.
Wait, Loki wants to say, just wait a second, what exactly happened? Why all that? Wasn't that supposed to be over? Weren't things supposed to get... better?
The simple thought of that word makes him want to throw up. He crawls towards Morgan and sees the blood.
It is at this precise moment that he thinks his brain stops functioning.
Her dark, tangled hair, are covered with red, thick blood, which also stains the right side of her head and her shirt. And the floor. And Loki's hands.
He mechanically puts pressure on the wound and can feel how large, how deep it is. Morgan's blood is warm and drips between his fingers.
The noise of a sob breaks the fog that surrounds him, and he turns his head on his left.
Wanda Maximov is crying. Her nose is still bleeding. She has not gotten up yet.
All of Loki's instincts scream danger.
She is strong. She is violent. She is unstable.
She hurt Morgan; this is the only thing that matters.
The second after, Loki is almost amazed by how rapidly his body has managed to rush right in front of the Witch.
"I'm sorry..." She whispers.
Loki does not care. He cannot care.
He firmly grabs her by the neck, and raises her from the ground. She starts to choke, and he only squeezes harder. Her attempts at clenching his arm and kicking him are ridiculously vain.
"I will destroy you." He hears himself roar.
The door to the balcony bursts open, and he distinguishes several figures, which he does not even try to recognize. The sole priority is to get rid of danger.
"Holy shit!" A voice exclaims.
"Loki, drop her!" Another orders.
He only registers that he has been punched when he feels the stone floor under his head. His already blurry vision does not improve, and he has to squint several times to recognize the armour above him, aiming something that is very likely to hurt. As if anything could hurt him further.
"Seriously, don't make me do that." Stark warns.
But Loki's gaze is focused on the Witch. She is surrounded by Wilson and Romanov, and starts to cough loudly, before gasping for air.
She is alive. Danger.
He knows the chance to succeed is ridiculously small, yet he has no choice but to take it.
Loki dashes towards the woman. He is fast. He can still smash her skull against the ground.
A blinding pain in his back stops him after only two steps, cutting all eventuality to go further. His already weakened body cannot stand it, and when he falls, he knows he will not be able to stand up before a long time.
"Now, you stay down, or I shoot you again." Stark speaks, maintaining some sort of blaster against his forehead.
But Loki does not listen. He knows he is going to slip into unconsciousness within seconds. He has already lost sensation in his legs and arms. Words are distant, almost meaningless.
"What more do you want?!" Wilson shouts "Look at that! They just wanna stab us in the back!"
"Just call Bruce, okay?!" Stark yells.
Loki wants to laugh at how messed up everything has become.
He thinks he probably still has Morgan's blood on his hands.
And before collapsing, he sees a colossal rainbow in the sky.
We are all mad here.
