Melody woke up to the feeling of pins and needles in her arm. She'd been laid down on a bed, on her left side, and her arm had been trapped beneath her. Blearily, she sat up, and flexed her fingers a bit, hoping to bring feeling back into them, as she looked around the room. It wasn't terrible, nor was it lavish. There was the twin-sized bed she lay on, a mirror, a foot locker at the end of the bed, and dreary grey walls, and blankets.
It reminded her a bit of what she'd always imagined a jail cell to look like, complete with an intercom, and a security camera.
She spent the next five minutes pulling faces at this camera, until she heard footsteps and voices outside the door.
"…just going to believe everything she says, because she knew your mother's name?"
"I didn't."
Melody's eyes widened, as she realized what they were talking about. Her, obviously, but the conversation was a direct mirror of the one Clint had had with Natasha, on Vormir, in Endgame.
Obviously, there was a great deal more respect in the archer's voice, when speaking to Loki, but it was the exact same words, and it pulled Melody's heartstrings. Before she could squeal like a fangirl, though, the door opened, and Loki strode in, his steps confident and purposeful, like a lion approaching a mouse.
Melody felt rather mouse-like, as Loki loomed over her. The analogy between ants and boots seemed rather apt, all of a sudden. How did a person get that tall?
"Good morning, Melody."
"You remembered my name!" She cheered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, as she stood up.
Loki cracked a bit of a smile. "I've a few things I'd like to speak to you about. Barton?"
Hawkeye stepped into the room with a tray holding two meals on it. He didn't seem pleased to be filling the role of a waiter, but Melody was a little star-struck, regardless. "Yeah, what's up?" She glanced up at Loki's face in curiosity.
"I have a mission for you." Loki stated, handing her one of the plates. Eggs, she noticed. Melody did not like eggs. Especially scrambled, as this particular specimen happened to be. "I have a strategy in mind, and I'd like to know what you think of it."
Good gracious. She was Loki's official sounding board, now. Was this prestigious? Could any random fangirl have done it?
…Probably. She hadn't really done anything. Rats.
"Okay." She agreed. "What's the plan? No, wait…" How much had he already done, was the real question. "Where are we in the story?"
Loki frowned in confusion. "What bits are plot points?"
Now there was a question. How did one identify a plot point in one's life?
And what could one tell him that wasn't giving anything away?
"Well… Has Dr. Selvig already told you what you need for the portal?"
"Iridium." Loki nodded. "We'll be going to… ah… Jir-men-ee tonight, to fetch it."
"Tonight!" She echoed, a little awed. "Can I go?" In all the fanfictions she'd read, the girl who entered the universe got to dress up in a fancy ball gown, and attend the gala with Loki. That would be loads of fun!
"I don't think so." Loki shook his head with an apologetic smile. When grownups said "I don't think so," It always meant no.
"Why not?" Melody whined. "It'd be fun to see you fight Captain America! And I could wear a pretty dress and get my hair and makeup done all fancy, and maybe you could teach me how to dance? Please?"
"Melody, I hardly think…"
"Oh, pleeeeeaaaaaaase?"
"Decidedly not." Loki's gaze hardened, and he gazed sternly down at her. "You're not a dog, nor I your master. Don't beg things of me, it's pathetically shallow. Besides, persuasive arguments are far more likely to convince me than whining. You're to stay here, with Selvig, until I return for you."
Phooey.
She'd blown her one chance to go to the gala and be fancy like a grownup.
"Yes, sir." She sighed.
"Don't look so glum." Loki's face softened into a smile. "When I'm king, there will be plenty of galas to attend, ones that aren't pivotal to my takeover."
Melody gave him a skeptical glance, but said nothing. While she was all for wrecking the timeline, there were some ways she could bend it so that Loki would die sooner, in a more painful or terrible way, and when dealing with the invasion, she had to exercise some degree of caution, especially since she knew who was influencing the mind behind those blue eyes.
That was a disturbing thought. She could be talking to Thanos, right now, through Loki.
"You're troubled." Loki pointed out. "What's the matter?"
"It's nothing." She shook her head, and turned away. No need to tell him she felt bad for him, or tell Thanos she knew what was going on, here.
Loki stared at her thoughtfully for a few more moments, before nodding. "Very well, then. Are you up for listening to my strategy, and giving me pointers?"
Melody nodded eagerly, and for the next fifteen minutes they went over the plan. Agent Barton got bored, and wandered off, so it was just the two of them for a while. Once they'd settled on the same plan he'd done in the movies, he thanked her for her assistance, and made to get up to leave. At the doorway, he paused, something heavy, and troubling sinking into his eyes, as he turned back to her.
"Melody."
"Yeah?"
He glanced out the door to see if anyone was listening. Then, in a low voice, he asked, "If I follow this plan to the letter… will I win?"
To lie or not lie, that was the question. Would he get mad if she told the truth? Maybe that was a chance she'd have to take. "…No." She admitted.
To her surprise, a wave of relief seemed to wash over the Trickster. "Good." He gave a half-hearted smile. "Thank you for all your assistance."
"Happy to help." She returned a genuine smile. This meant he was probably at least partly still in control of himself, while heavily under the influence of Thanos, though. He didn't want to win, and that was half the battle.
With that, he nodded towards the foot locker at the end of the bed. "You'll find your garments in there, and you're free to wander around the facility. Don't break anything, though, and don't try to exit. Sound fair?"
"Mhm!" Melody replied with a thumbs-up. He gave her a vaguely confused look, obviously not aware of what the gesture meant, but left anyway, closing the door behind him.
TheOnlyHuman.
