Warning! Warning! - This chapter contains references to rape and such. If this triggers you, skip this chapter. I tried to get around it, but this is Lorelei, people, it's what she does. It's nothing explicit though. More hinting. But I thought I needed to warn you anyway.
Last Time On BPoT:
From the writhing cloud a gorgeous woman steps out. Her red hair plays round her flawless face like slithering snakes. How, Clint's not sure, there's not even a hint of a breeze in the room. A cruel smile grows on her lips.
"Loki, my dearest, it's been too long."
Great!
Just great!
More people who hate or wanna use the guy.
The universe hates them.
"Lorelei," Loki says flatly.
"Now, now, no need for that tone." Lorelei bats her eyelashes. "I'm here to save you."
"I think not," Loki says.
"And why's that, my dearest? Have I given you reason to think this?"
"Always."
"Well," Lorelei chuckles. "That is true."
"I take it the nobles are displeased."
Lorelei preens. "And this is why you are my favorite companion."
Clint's had enough. He discretely sends Phil a distress signal, before pulling out a knife. "I don't know who you are, lady, but Loki's not going anywhere with you."
She glances down at him. "How quaint, you still have loyal thralls."
Ok, that's it, she's so going down. Clint is nobody's thrall, or servant, or their anything. He is his own man, thank you very much.
Lorelei steps daintily down through the air. "I think…yes…It will be advantageous."
Clint backs up.
She waves a hand and then…Clint shakes his head as something…No! Clint panics. Not again. It's different, but Clint can tell something's trying to take over his mind again. No, no, no, no! Not again. No! he can't…go…
She's gorgeous, his angel in green.
Clint melts at her smile.
"Help me with him, beloved," she asks, pointing to Loki.
"Of course, ma'am."
"Let him go, Lorelei," Loki demands.
Clint throws a knife at the alien. It shimmers through an illusion. The real Loki appears inches from him, grabs his wrists and twists them up behind him back. Lorelei giggles.
"No," she says. "I rather like him."
"Now, Lorelei."
"Only if you promise to come with me."
"…very well."
Lorelei dances over to Loki and kisses him on the cheek. A green mist wafts between them, and Loki releases Clint. The archer ribs his wrists.
"You…promised…" Loki struggles.
Lorelei smiles and kisses him again. "I lied."
Loki blinks as more green mist crawls into his pores. His tense posture loosens.
"Come," Lorelei says. "we have much to accomplish."
Clint follows her through the blue cloud, Loki close at his heels.
Lorelei's 'love' charm works differently for those who possess the innate ability to harness raw magic, as Loki can. It is a mercy. Loki decides this early on into his interactions with Lorelei. Those who are normal – that is to say, unable to dabble in magic – have the luxury of forgetting their time with the woman. They live in a haze of green and blue, with but a few murmurings of unease to haunt them when they are released. Loki is forever grateful that Clint will not remember this stint of imprisonment.
The poor man has enough nightmares from his capture at Loki's hand.
To add this onto that would surely break the archer.
That does not mean Loki's blood does not boil whenever he sees Lorelei lead Clint to her bedchambers. It takes no imagining as to what she forces upon him in there, for none are allowed entrance to there, unless it is to lie with her. It wouldn't matter to Lorelei that Clint is happily married. In fact, it might make her even more vicious with the human.
So, yes, Loki is glad Clint will not remember this.
He sometimes wishes he were able to forget.
0/0/0/0/0
"You're pensive tonight, my love," Lorelei purrs, hugging him from behind. Her hot breath warms his neck as she kisses him slowly just below his ear.
Loki shivers.
At least, he is clothed…for now.
"Always the thinker, you were," she says, her delicate fingers playing with the silk shirt he wears. Drawing back, she edges around so she still holds him close, but can look him in the eye now. "What unknown horrors do you plan as revenge for me, beloved?"
Loki cannot think of any phrase to appease her.
Her magic enthralls him, but in a much different way. He can no longer deny her anything, yet he retains all his mind. In essence, a prisoner of his own body.
"Tell me, Loki, am I so hideous?" Lorelei asks, laying her head on his shoulder, hugging him tighter to her. "Is it so odious, to be with me?"
"No," her magic forces him to say. His hand reaches up and runs through her hair. The dying light from the sun glimmers on it, making the red locks flash all the more brilliantly. His lips place a gentle kiss the top of her head. "I love you."
His stomach churns at the words.
"Of course, you do," she sighs, pushing him away. Irritation flows through her hazel eyes.
A dark chuckle wafts over to them.
Loki glances over at the other witness to his shame.
The green-eyed enchantress steps out of the shadows, her golden tresses glowing in the last few beams of sunlight. Amora leans against Lorelei's bed. Her emerald green dress leaves nothing to the imagination, revealing in all the right places, and concealing next to nothing of her perfect body.
"Why do you torment yourself so, sister?" Amora inquires, grinning wide. "Is it some misplaced sense of guilt?"
Lorelei hisses and steps towards her. "Do not think to mock me here, Amora. I hold the power in this place, not you."
"Is that why you begged for my aid in sealing Loki's magic?" Amora says, her eyes widening in mock surprise. She smirks. "Silly me, I thought it because you found yourself out of your depths…again."
Lorelei screams, a flash of blue magic tearing through the air towards Amora.
The enchantress merely waves a hand and the attack dissipates before it even gets halfway across the room. "Please."
Lorelei's chest is heaving as she builds more magic between her fingers. "I do not need you, Amora."
"Really?" Amora's eyes narrow. "Very well then. I withdraw my aid."
The chains binding Loki's magic within him become almost nonexistent. The urge to obey and adore Lorelei is there, of course, but now Loki can combat it.
And battle it he does.
The thin links that are trying to contain him, Loki snaps with ease. Lorelei gasps, doubling over as if he stuck her. Which, truth be told, he basically did, though only in the magic realm. Lorelei scrambles to control him, her blue magic reaching out and enveloping him. His mind demands he kneel before her, give in to her every desire.
He rips the cloud apart, as if it were smoke and he, the wind. He quickly fights to call more magic to him. He might not have this chance again. He –
"Sister!" Lorelei pleads, almost on her knees.
Amora rolls her eyes and snaps her fingers.
Immediately, Loki feels his magic shut off, fastened in an invisible cage where he can feel it and no more.
A cry of despair escapes his lips.
No.
So close!
He came so close to freeing himself.
And, if he were in a better mental state, if he had not been torn asunder by Thanos, if he were at his best, Amora would never succeed in holding him.
But, Loki is not in at his best.
He is torn asunder by Thanos.
His mind is still trying to heal itself.
Therefore, Amora wins.
"You see?" Amora says, striding over and carding her long finger through Loki's hair. "But worry not, little sister, I shall stay and aid you."
"To get to Thor," Lorelei spits out, struggling to stand straight after her brief fight for control.
"Of course." Amora smiles. "I do not hide my intentions and lust, unlike some."
Amora sends Lorelei a pointed look.
A low growl rumbles through from Lorelei's clenched teeth, but she says nothing to refute Amora's claim.
"Come now," Amora says, grasping Loki's wrist and leading him to Lorelei's bed. "Let us forget such unpleasantness."
0/0/0/0/0
But Loki will never forget his time here.
It is the price – one of many – that all magic users must pay.
They are granted almost unlimited powers, but must also accept that they will never forget anything done to them through magic. No thin veil will cover their horrors, like it does for so many others. Magic is fickle beast, but a kind one to those who leave it alone. That's why it protects them, makes them forget, whenever they are attacked by it. But for those who dare to dabble in it? Oh, it delights in making them remember every strike, every touch, forever.
Many a magic user has given up their tomes, or gone mad, because of this.
Loki wonders why he does not.
After so many such attacks in his youth, after all Thanos has done, one would think his mind would give out.
Yet, here he is, still living.
If this can be called living.
Loki doubts it.
He calls it hell.
A wisp of green is all his warning, before Loki is dragging through the dimensions. Images bombard his eyes, colors melt together brightly, while voices overlap each other.
"You are nothing to me," a man yells.
"Where can – " Thor says.
"Almost – " a woman sighs happily.
"Mama? Mama, please," a child whimpers.
And then, suddenly, he is dumped onto Amora's chamber floors. He falls to his hands and knees. His head reals from the multiple images. He gages, wrenching against bile that fights to escape his throat. A hand yanks his head up. Lorelei's charm releases his mind, though his magic stays contained.
"I could free you," Amora says, running a nail along the edge of his jaw. She sits on a plush chair of forest green, her legs crossed tantalizingly. "If you but give me Thor."
"Never," he gasps, his arms and legs trembling.
"Enslaved, and still you persist," Amora says, shaking her head. "You impress me, Odinson. If only because I've never yet seen someone as faultlessly loyal as you. What if I could sweeten the deal?"
Loki glares at her. "No."
"You've not yet heard my offer."
"No."
Amora laughs, and then drags him closer by his hair. "You would do well to get in my good graces, Odinson."
Loki almost spits on her.
"What if I gave you back your mind?" Amora asks, letting go of his hair and leaning back in her chair. "What if I fixed what Thanos broke? Made you whole once more? Would lending me Thor be really so high a price for that?"
A small part of Loki hesitates.
How can it not?
To be free of Thanos' hold over him, to be himself once more, to be without the threat of death, it is all Loki wishes for.
And yet…
"No," he says firmly.
"You condemn yourself to a slow death then."
Loki looks away.
He knows that.
It doesn't make his answer any less true.
He will not make Thor a slave, just so he can be free.
"As I said, loyal to a fault." Amora sighs, and Lorelei's charm smothers Loki's mind once more. "Go, your mistress calls for you."
Loki stumbles to his feet, his mind already filled with Lorelei's sweet demands for love and affection.
It is worth it.
This enslavement is worth Thor's freedom.
For Thor will find them, eventually.
He will.
Loki just hopes it's before Clint dies of old age.
And that's it folks. A bit shorter than the last, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway.