Long time, no see. :)
Hello, everyone! I know it's been a long time, but I have an update for you all!
Before I leave you all to it, I just wanted to clarify a little something. First of all, I could go into detail as to why it takes so long for me to update - university, adult life, life in general, other unforeseen complications - but ultimately, that doesn't really matter. I really really appreciate all of you who have been so kind and so patient as to my very sporadic updates. As for the few anons complaining or being just generally hateful, keep this in mind. I do this for free. During my own very rare spare time. I chose to pick this story up so that I could ensure it eventually being finished, my apologies if I can't crank out chapters fast enough for you. I understand if you have a problem with it - trust me, I get it - but at least come off anon so we could maybe have a conversation about it instead of just leaving rude complaints that aren't going to help my motivation at all. But as you can see, Ruin has not been abandoned by any means.
THAT BEING SAID. MOST OF YOU ARE ABSOLUTE SUNSHINE AND SO SWEET AND I APPRECIAT OF YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT.
And a huge thanks and shout out to Team Damon for being SUPER MOM. Pushing out a (unbelievably beautiful and perfect) baby and still finding time to proofread this and help me when I get stuck all in the same week. You're the best and I love you.
Anyway, I'll wrap this up by saying I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS NEW CHAPTER. Let me know what you all think :)
~Midnightwings96
Somehow, despite everything, time went on. The days and weeks passed, and all anyone could do was simply adjust to their new normal.
Thor, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif were deep in their mission of restoring balance to the Realms. Fandral found comfort in doing what he did best, and knocking a few heads together proved to be heavily cathartic in the light of separating from Aemilia. He missed her, but he knew this time away was crucial in being able to return home to her simply as a friend. Meanwhile Thor was simply delighted to be among his friends again. They aided in getting his mind off of what trials awaited for him at home, specifically the one deep within the confines of Asgard's top prison.
Elida was sparse lately, having landed her first lead in an upcoming ballet. Despite her perpetual tardiness – typically not of her own fault but of her ironic clumsiness when she wasn't dancing – and her constant struggle with putting her foot in her mouth in front of her director, her free spirit and impeccable artistic instincts lead her to be the best natural dancer among their ranks. Finally, all those decades of practicing and ensemble roles had paid off. Unfortunately, her new schedule was unforgiving, and she missed not being able to see Aemilia as much as she would like. That being said, Elida never missed any of Aemilia's remaining performances, and they actively tried to meet with each other outside the theatre when they could.
Meanwhile in the palace, Queen Frigga was up to her neck in work, assisting her husband in the wake of the unrest caused by the Midgardian incident. When she found an inkling of free time, she made a point to visit her youngest son, but they were typically unrewarding. Despite all of Loki's conflict and confusion, one thing he stood firm in: his lingering anger and betrayal towards his hidden origins. He latched onto that certainty and coddled it with a vengeance. Any attempts at forgiveness were futile at the moment. The love and connection they had always shared was still palpable to both of them, though, she knew. Perhaps that was why he was struggling so to forgive her transgression. Her betrayal had burned him the most.
Loki begrudgingly settled into his new sedentary and confined existence. Essentially all he had now was whatever book he could get his hands on, the occasional, tense visits with his mother, and the time he spent with Aemilia. And in the quiet of night when not a sound could be heard throughout the cavernous halls of the prison and left him utterly alone – he sunk into his thoughts. That never ended well. Most nights he lay awake, mind moving back and forth so spastically he had no hope of finding rest. When he did manage to fall into some semblance of slumber, then his nightmares would taunt him. There was no escaping it until he heard one of the familiar feminine voices he had come to rely on so. They were the backbone of his entire existence now.
And Aemilia, well, she was trying her best. After an unbelievably successful run, her contract with Helena was quickly coming to a close. She had found considerable success a couple years earlier, just as she had first met Loki, but Helena had catapulted her career to new, unseen heights. She constantly received requests to perform at banquets, balls, and weddings for the rich nobility who would want something so lavish in the first place. Other opera companies across Asgard had also approached her, offering lead roles without even a request to audition. Aemilia had never dreamed she would achieve the level of blossoming success as she was, especially after her time of extended leave following Loki's fall. For all she had known, her career had essentially ended, and she couldn't have been happier in her misjudgment.
Naturally, her work load significantly increased. When she wasn't performing or deep in a rehearsal, she tried to maintain some semblance of proficiency in what she learned from Frigga and Fandral, but that ultimately took a huge step back so she could spend as much time with Loki as possible. She visited him nearly every day. Time had eased any hostility between them into a distant memory – she praised the gods – but what she got in return wasn't much better. He had promised to be honest with her, and as far as she could tell, he had kept his promise, because he had yet to really divulge anything that might garner lying about. More than anything, their visits were simply…silence.
Rarely could they hold a conversation for very long. While frivolous, spiteful insults weren't hurled at her anymore, Loki had completely shut down for the most part. Aemilia was always the one that attempted to spark up a conversation. He would always reply, but his short, almost laborious sentences quickly killed their dialogue. At first she worried she was bothersome to him and overstaying her welcome, but when she offered to leave at one point, he got this unreadable but slightly unsettled look in his eye and quietly asked her to stay.
So, for a long period, they simply spent time together in silence. He would annotate and add notes to journals of spells while she studied scripts and librettos or got caught up on a novel that had been sitting neglected on her desk. They would occasionally share an interesting passage or she would briefly tell him of her day at the theatre, but mostly they simply kept each other quiet company. She knew he was still trying to make sense of his mind, trying to recover from what he had endured. Aemilia was surprised he hadn't asked her anything about her time while he was on Midgard, but he didn't. She feared for him, holding so much back and staying so within himself, but she didn't press, and neither did he. She figured he would open up to her when he was ready.
Such was her life now, blessed yet simultaneously trying and hopelessly complicated. She couldn't find it in her heart to complain, though, because at the end of the day, Loki was alive. She had him back in her life. It wasn't the same, and it certainly wasn't easy, but he was there and safe and she could see those beautiful green eyes that she loved so almost every day. Her heart – as battered as it was – felt more full than it had been in so, so long. And for that, she would be eternally grateful.
Around two months into his captivity, Loki sat at his normal spot on the floor with a spell book in his lap, thumbing through the thick pages periodically and adding his commentary as needed. He lowered his pen momentarily to gather his thoughts, but instead, his sharp ears picked up on the faintest of humming on the other side of his cell.
He made sure she wouldn't see anything, but the minutest of smiles lifted his lips at the tiny, yet cheery sound. Setting his pen down, he looked up to see Aemilia sitting across from him and studying a large scorebook that sat in her lap. She looked lovely in a pale pink day dress as she hummed a new melody, her hand conducting subtly at her side.
Aemilia had lately taken to studying scores and reading librettos in their quiet moments together. He assumed they were new ones being sent to her by theatres in an attempt to draw in the most successful young singer in all of Asgard at the moment. Typically, she was as silent as a mouse as she read through it, but when she would become particularly invested, she would ever so slightly hum the melody line on the page to herself. Loki wasn't entirely sure she was even consciously aware of it. He didn't mind, though. One might even think he found it endearing, though he wouldn't outwardly admit it.
"Anything peak your interest yet?" he asked casually, returning his eyes back to his book. Her humming paused and he could feel her looking over to him. He specifically didn't look up.
"There have been a couple interesting roles," she replied after a moment of silence. "One is a rather quirky witch that wreaks havoc on a philanderer that scorns her, and the other is a smart mouthed and quick-witted middle class girl falling in love with a nobleman. Both comedies."
Loki quirked an eyebrow and turned a page. "Comedy? That is uncharted territory for you, is it not?"
Aemilia lightly laughed under her breath, though it was more fueled by her delight that Loki was actually prompting a conversation. "It definitely is. Most of these are all dramatic role offers, which makes sense given my resume. However, I think I need a change of pace. Crying on stage is incredibly exhausting and I would love a reprieve from channeling such dreariness." Her voice remained cheery, but he could sense a slight melancholy undertone as she gently noted, "Also, I think it would be nice to help people laugh every now and then."
Loki said nothing, thinking back to her performance and her magic-fueled emotional projection bringing tears to the entirety of the house. "My mother said she was training you in sorcery?" he asked randomly.
Her eyes were on him again as she hesitantly replied, "Yes, for a little under a year. She guides me and I try to study on my own when I can."
"Such as what?"
"Um, well, as of late I've been focusing on my illusions, making them more lifelike, and I've been dabbling in some potions, though I'm admittedly very poor at it."
Loki then set his pen down and finally lifted his head to look her dead in the eye. "Show me something then," he casually challenged, genuinely curious to see how she had improved since…before.
A rosy little blush immediately set in her cheeks. "Oh, I don't know…" She pushed a stray curl behind her ear, struggling to maintain eye contact with him amidst her immediate nerves. Loki was entirely the inspiration and reason she pursued learning magic in the first place, and while he had been her first teacher and had seen her at her most juvenile skill level, she had become so infinitely comfortable with Frigga and her warmth. Loki had never been a cold teacher, but impossibly more intimidating. She feared mediocrity in front of his sharp gaze, especially since she was so out of an adequate practice regimen.
He gave her a look. "Aemilia, come on. It's not as if I have anything better to do," he observed, gesturing about their current dismal location.
Fair enough. Besides, this was the most interaction Loki had ever initiated; far be it from her to ruin that from irrational nerves. She conceded with a nod and a little smile, and his eyes intently trained on her. Aemilia moved the large score book off her lap, sat up, and crossed her legs beneath her skirts. Closing her eyes in concentration, she lifted one hand palm up as she felt that comforting yet exhilarating humming of magic flare within her. Pushing that energy towards her palm, her brows furrowed as she focused.
Loki watched as a visage of a pristine looking golden rose quite literally form from bud to full bloom in her palm, nearly identical to those of his mother's immortal roses that adorned the royal grounds. Despite the skill being of an elementary level, he was impressed with the quality and ease in which she conjured it, given her minute and rather late exposure to the art. She had indeed improved under his mother's tutorship, but how could she not have with the very woman that had taught him?
Aemilia opened her eyes and lightly smiled with satisfaction at the rose. She looked to him expectantly for his thoughts. "What do you think? I know it isn't much, but…"
"I'm impressed," he declared, setting his book on the floor to his side. "You have done well in a small amount of time with Mother. Your accuracy and attention to detail are much evolved from the illusions I originally saw from you." Aemilia's smile grew at his compliment and genuine honesty, and Loki pushed down the pang in his heart that resulted from it. His thoughts went back to before, when he was her mentor, and a particularly satisfying memory resurfaced. "Though they were still effective even then," he added mischievously.
Aemilia waved the rose away and tilted her head. With narrowed, almost amusedly suspicious eyes, she wondered, "What are you referring to?"
He lightly chuckled, "Why, your reigning moment of mischief, my dear. The little public stunt you pulled with the flaming spider atop that infernal creature's blonde mop of hair." He grinned at her reminiscence, his eyes actually showing some form of genuine, lighthearted amusement, a spark of the old Loki she had yet to see since his return.
Aemilia burst into giggles at the unexpected memory, not having thought of that moment in a long time. The joyful sound warmed his very soul – if he had any of it left, anyways. "Oh, you're right!" she recalled amidst her laughter, "Very effective, indeed. And then again in the Tavern, I almost feel sorry for the impossible woman."
Loki stilled, "…Tavern?"
Her laughter waned as she remembered Loki's absence from that evening. "…Oh." Her smile faltered, "This happened a few months after you…fell." Aemilia almost stopped talking altogether as the old yet vivid memory swept her up for a moment, but quickly decided to plow through, not wanting to relinquish the uncharacteristic lightheartedness between them just yet. "I encountered Ilyana at the Tavern while I was with the Warriors, Sif, and Elida for the Lithasblot festivities. She said some terribly insolent and petty things about…you and I, so I noted the state of her hair – still cut rather short due to the fire damage," she grinned in pride. Loki leaned in with a simmering grin, intrigued. "She was still under the impression that you were the culprit behind the spider, so I couldn't help myself. I had the spider appear and crawl from one hand, up my arm and down to my other hand before igniting near her face."
"Oh my, did she scream in fright?" he gleefully asked, taking all too much pleasure in this little tale.
Her sparkling gaze lit up in mischief, "Oh she before she reared back to slap me."
His grin wavered a bit. "She slapped you?"
Aemilia's did not. With a playful shrug, she snickered, "Let's just say she tried. It didn't work out very well for her, and I have yet to see her since, praise the gods." Loki merely stared at her with an incredulous expression. Suddenly feeling somewhat exposed, she bashfully queried, "…What is it?"
He seemed to shake himself out of the look before answering, "Nothing, I just…I would have loved to have seen this display in person." He had said it rather lightly, but a melancholiness still managed to tinge the air at the implications of her statement. Both of their smiles fell.
Aemilia looked down at her entwined fingers in false fascination, "Maybe one day I can show you firsthand from my memories."
Loki swallowed rather hard before nodding, knowing full well that wouldn't happen any time soon. Most likely, not ever. Instead of commenting further, he redirected, "Do you and my mother meet regularly?"
The question took her off guard, but after a moment, she looked back to him and replied, "Well, as of late she's been unbelievably busy aiding the All Father. Naturally, the frequency of our sessions has lessened. I've kept it up independently as much as I can manage."
Loki sat up further, shifting in his seat a bit. "Since you're able to visit so often, perhaps…I could teach you again in Mother's stead, if you wanted," he offered quietly, jumping on the thought before he had a true chance to talk himself out of it. It would certainly prove to be a lovely distraction from his demons, and one he most certainly needed. Anything to keep his mind off of…everything. Besides, he also wanted to witness Aemilia progress so they could one day tap into her hidden and rather unique empathetic abilities.
Aemilia's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"
Loki gave her a weak smile and shrugged, "Like I said earlier, it's not like I have anything better to do."
Her gaze searched his for a moment. A tentative excitement pulled up at her lips. They still weren't addressing some very key topics that definitely needed to be addressed, but this was a wonderful step in the right direction, and Aemilia felt nearly giddy at the thought of making progress with Loki.
As her smile fully bloomed, she beamed, "I would love that."
Thus pushed their ever-evolving normal. Loki became Aemilia's mentor once more, and as the days went on, Aemilia could sense the scorned Prince slowly opening up with each session. He spoke to her without hesitation now. His smart tongue and sarcasm was finding its way from a constant maliciousness to what it used to be with her. And he smiled more freely. Those smiles still rarely met his eyes, but they were smiles none the less.
Loki had also seemed to take a keen interest in Aemilia and what she had been up to. He asked her questions, urged her to tell stories of what he had missed, and while she considered that to be vital progress, she couldn't help but notice it seemed rather…shallow. As if he were merely trying to distract himself, rather than heal the proper way. He always diverted the conversation when it started to migrate towards him and his feelings or past. He kept the focus on her and pushing her skills as a novice sorceress.
She also couldn't help but notice how very tired those green eyes looked.
Of course, that made complete sense, considering he wasn't sleeping. But he had yet to tell her that. Why would he? He could just see those big hazel eyes looking up at him, expressive eyebrows turned in a frown, her pretty face full of pity for his tragic plight. No.
He eventually slipped one day, though.
It had been an off day for him. His thoughts were muddled and he struggled to keep his brain clear and alert during their session, but he knew she still sensed something was wrong. Even Loki could only function for so long without rest, and he had not shut his eyes beyond blinking for four days. The alternative was worse.
After an hour long session, Loki doused the green energy from his palms and sighed, "That's enough for today, I believe."
Aemilia glanced up from her own glowing hands with a disappointed look. She extinguished the light and murmured, "I apologize."
He looked at her quizzically as he sat down at his desk chair, his legs – his entire body, really – aching for no reason but exhaustion. "Whatever for?"
"It's just that…I know I was catching on rather slowly today, and I couldn't help but sense your agitation with me," she replied, taking a few steps towards him.
"Oh. No, if I came off as agitated, that was truly not my intention, Aemilia. In fact, for an introductory lesson into the fundamentals of weaponized energy, you did quite well," he countered, even throwing in an encouraging smile in attempts to throw the woman off his trail.
She didn't seem convinced, but nodded anyway, albeit hesitantly. "Well, I must be off to the theatre soon. Do you have any specific study material for me this evening?"
"Yes, actually." Loki quickly turned to his desk and opened one of the many new, leather bound journals stacked in a pile that Frigga had provided for him. He flipped to the last filled page to apparently check some notes and said, "Go into my chambers. On my bookshelf, third shelf from the bottom, you'll find all my spell and magic collections. Read through the lone grey-hued leather one. It's all on weaponized energy. There's also a boar-skin journal on that same shelf that I would like you to begin perusing for potions. Perhaps my notes will aid you in finding further ease with the art."
She stored that information for later. "Grey leather and boar-skin, third shelf from the bottom. Understood."
He gave her a little grin, "Good. You've done well this past month."
"Thank you," she cheerfully replied. Her eyes falling on his desk once more, she asked, "I don't mean to pry, but…are you documenting our sessions?" Aemilia lightly nodded towards the open journal by his hand.
It took him a moment, but he eventually shifted a bit in his seat and replied, "…Yes. The idea came to me late last night, and I thought it would be useful to assess your improvement, so I documented all of our previous sessions and will continue it from now on."
She hesitantly eyed him. "But…you said you came up with this idea last night? The book is already half full, though," she observed. Indeed, the first half of the book was already littered with documentation of their past sessions, his observations and notes, and plans for the future.
He absently thread his fingers through the pages. "I enjoy writing at night," he simply stated.
"…But that is the product of hours of work. When do you sleep?" she asked incredulously.
He slowly looked back up to her, and despite his immaculate expression of indifference, she could easily see how to the bone tired he was, the redness creeping in around his irises and the deep discoloration beneath his eyes betraying him. His voice deadpan in a humorless smirk, he replied, "When I'm able."
Those three words deeply concerned Aemilia. Despite all the little-by-little progress she could see in him with their meetings, clearly they were only healing the surface, while an ugly sickness still raged just underneath. Just as she had been worried about from the very beginning, Loki was burying his trauma and fears and confusion beneath magic lessons and tireless focus on whatever task he could obsess over that didn't bring about confronting himself. This path could wind for only so long before he cracked from the pressure. It was only a matter of time, and Aemilia greatly feared for that day. She knew this, because she had endured the very same.
She took a few further steps towards him, and it was in moments like this that she wished nothing more that she could truly, physically, be there for him, not just a formless mirage that in reality was simply standing in her own chambers. She lowered to his level to meet his gaze equally. His expression remained unchanged. "Loki," she began, not entirely sure what she should say. That is, if there was anything at all she could say that would actually help him. Taking a little breath, she continued with a soft and steady voice, "You know you can speak to me. About anything."
He heavily sighed. "Aemilia…"
"Loki, please," she waved him off, not wanting to hear him deflect. "Whether you like it or not, I'm concerned for you. Whatever it all is that you are so adamantly shoving further and further into your sense of denial, it can only last so long. You may want to carry your burden on your own like you've always done, but that's the thing. You don't have to."
Loki blinked. Aemilia had always been skilled at unraveling Loki's finely crafted masks, even when they had first met, but now…after everything they had both been through, it was as if the woman could see right through him. He felt vulnerable, naked beneath her piercing – yet, somehow, somehow, loving – gaze. That scared him to his very core.
"Just…when you're ready," she nearly whispered, "promise that you'll come to me."
She looked as if she began to reach for his hand, but quickly retracted it when she remembered it would be met with nothing more than refracting light. His fingers itched to feel her skin, too.
A small but no less heavy sigh expelled from her lungs as she intently watched him for a reply.
Moments went by. Almost incomprehensible, he murmured, "I promise."
"Thank you for meeting with me today, Aemilia."
"Anytime for my favorite director," she grinned, looking upon her revered director and friend, Asmund. The feisty older gentleman had been pivotal in her casting in Helena after her extended hiatus, fiercely defending her talent and work ethic when others considered her to have already plateaued.
Asmund scoffed at her with amusement sparkling in his youthful blue eyes and sat down, signaling for her to do the same. "Your flattery is much appreciated, my dear."
"Not flattery. Mere truth," she clarified with a wide, warm smile. He waved her off, his inherent inability to take a compliment well adorable.
"Alright, that's enough," he chuckled. "I know how busy you are as of late being the rapidly rising star of Asgard, so I won't take up more time than is necessary. I have a proposition for you," he stated, leaning back in his chair with his weathered hands clasped excitedly.
Aemilia raised a brow in intrigue. "Oh? Please, don't keep me waiting."
"Well, we both know your contract is about to close by the end of the week. Helena has been marked one of the most successful operas of the theatre's history, especially recent history, and has caught the attention of the public even beyond Asgard."
Aemilia's eyes widened. Beyond Asgard? "Really?"
Asmund nodded in pride. "In fact, some of my Vanir friends saw the opening performance, and they are most determined to expose it to all of Vanaheim upon reopening of the rainbow bridge in two months' time. They're offering us a generous sum of money for a three month Vanaheim tour at all of their finest theatres, but…they only want us if you serve as the lead."
The young singer's mouth fell agape in shock. This…never happened. Asgardian theatre troupes rarely toured around Asgard to other theatres, let alone to an entirely different realm. Pure elation bubbled up within her at the prospect. She had always wanted to travel beyond Asgard, experience new cultures, and the fact that the request came from the land of her biological father… This was an utterly unexpected and prime opportunity to truly learn of the culture that made up half of who she was. She had barely scratched the surface of the Vanir lifestyle during that undercover daytrip with Loki, and now—
Aemilia's face fell. Loki.
Reality came crashing down upon her head like a mighty crash from Mjolnir. She…she couldn't leave Loki. Not for three months. But-but what an unprecedented opportunity! This was something she never even dreamed of as a possibility, and yet Asmund had just dropped it in all its glittering potential onto her very lap.
"And…this can only come to be if I pledge to remain as Helena throughout the tour?" she asked, dumbfounded.
Asmund confirmed with a nod. "Despite their great admiration of the entire cast, they were adamant that only you perform as Helena."
So, not only was this a once in a lifetime opportunity, but the very possibility of it rested on her participation. If she agreed, all of the careers of every cast and orchestra member could be transformed with an experience like this, and if she declined, they would all be deprived of it. How could she refuse?
…But how could she bear leaving Loki when he needed her most? When she needed him, too? Perhaps Frigga's crystal could be made to transcend the barriers between realms?
Her heart nearly pounding from her chest, charged with both excitement and suffocating anxiety. She swallowed hard. "When must you provide them with an answer?"
"A fortnight, at the very latest."
She needed to speak with the Queen immediately.
Dark, chilling space surrounded Loki, crumbling rock underneath his boots. The air tasted stale and heavy on his tongue. Dread prickled down his spine. He knew this place, he knew this abominable presence lurking around him. It was the monstrous deformity he saw every time he closed his eyes, all deathly gray skin and gnarling teeth.
The Other.
As the abomination circled about him, Loki's hand tightened around the scepter with a painful, white grip. The creature's voice, full of malice and gravel, warningly hissed behind him, "If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us…there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you!" Loki's muscles locked in place as he sensed a grotesque hand reach out by his face. His voice dropped to a mere whisper, "You think you know pain?" Loki kept his gaze forward, refusing to bow to him. Not again. He would not bow to anyone ever again. In a burst of outrage, the Other snarled, "He will make you long for something sweet as death!"
With a burst of searing light and electric pain shooting through his skull, memory turned to dream-like hysteria as he suddenly found himself spiraling through space. He screamed his throat raw in desperation, but no sound came out. His lungs burned, but there was nothing to fill them. Violent images flashed behind his eyes. A city in ruins. A flying army. A foiled plan. A failure.
If you fail. If you fail. If you fail.
Just as he felt his burning body begin to bend beneath the weight of swirling, never ending space, he was blinded by light and plummeted to a cold, stone floor with a cry.
The stone nor his body buckled at the collision. Loki whipped around, frantically looking about the jarringly different environment as his lungs filled and sound returned to him. A chair, a desk, a small bed, four corners, a glowing shield encasing him.
His cell. He was in his dreaded, lonesome cell. And what would be his inevitable grave. If he stayed here, this place would become his tomb.
As he turned once more, his frantic eyes landed on a familiar cloaked figure standing outside, watching him beneath the shadow of their hood.
Loki felt his heart leap in recognition. He hastily scrambled to his feet towards his savior. "Aemilia! Aemilia," he gasped, voice unrecognizable with panic as he tried to see underneath the hood his mother had made. "My darling, please, I can't stay here. You must get me out somehow."
Aemilia said nothing.
"Please, Aemilia," he begged, his hands pressed against the glowing energy, such a seemingly meager thing being the only barrier keeping him from his freedom. From her. "Get me out of here and we…we can run away! I can show you all the Realms and beyond, simply you and I, all we must do is leave this pl—"
A garish, gray hand suddenly shot out from the cloak and burst through the shield, large, alien fingers clamping around Loki's clenching throat like a vise as his feet were launched off the floor. The hood fell.
The Other had finally returned to fulfill his promise, to seek retribution for his failure on Midgard. "You shall never leave this place!" he hissed, his eyes alight with vigor at the sight of Loki's gasping throat closing in beneath his brutal grip. "As long as you resist, Death will not find you here, no matter how you may beg for her embrace! You will finish what you started, you will find the Tesseract, and you will obey him!"
Just as his vision began to feather with darkness, a broadsword was suddenly plunged into the Other's back and out through his chest. The creature's grip slipped with a shaking hiss, and Loki fell to the floor with a violent inhale. His sight sharpened again just in time for him to see the only two people he had left standing with a bloodied sword and harried expressions above the Other's lifeless body.
"Aemilia. Mother," he croaked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"
The two women hauled him to his feet and he felt Aemilia's gentle, soft hands encase his tear stained cheeks. "Loki, there's no time to talk! We must go now!" she exclaimed. In the background, a flood of grotesque Chitauri soldiers poured into the prison, deadly spears in hand. His mother called for them as she began forging a path through the oncoming army.
Aemilia grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit, but just as he was about to step out of the cell, he stopped.
Aemilia whipped around to look at him, tugging on his hand, and calling out in vain for him to come, but he could no longer hear her. Because he was there, that voice, slithering into his mind like a snake, drowning out all around but him. It. A staggering chill of fear enveloped Loki's entire body, leaving him breathless and every single muscle clenched in dread. "This is not what you want, Asgardian," the being murmured low into his mind.
"How do you know what I want?" he countered, albeit quietly.
"You are not so different. You want what everyone wants, but most are too fearful to pursue it. You want power."
The being's words rattled through his ears like a great echo. Still, he replied with a painful swallow, "Not if that power comes from you."
"Oh, but it feels so sweet in your hand, does it not?"
Loki felt a warming weight appear in his hand. He looked down and saw the deadly golden scepter that he had come to discover such yearning familiarity with. The swirling, glowing blue stone stared up at him, living, cold, yet inviting energy that called to him like a siren. The potential. All that he could achieve with it if only given a second chance.
"Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? Forget your worldly attachments, submit, Asgardian, and it all can be yours again. All will kneel to you, if you only kneel to me."
Thanos's words and the stone's energy coursed through him, and it felt so sweet he yearned to bathe in it. The burning tendrils of heat radiated from the stone and invaded his eyes and heart and licked across his body, slowly engulfing his soul in a fiery inferno.
It was in that storm that he lost himself, a vacancy formed within him again in its wake, and he relished in it. Relished in the numbness. No more pain. No more fear. No more guilt. It was a sick, twisted peace, but a peace nonetheless, and Loki's garish soul welcomed it with open arms, for it was the only peace he could know. All he could ever deserve.
Some small part of him beat at the cage in his heart, knowing that it was wrong, that no good could come of it, but it was smothered by the perverted blue radiance that resided in him.
"Loki, please! Don't do this!" Aemilia's voice finally broke through to his ears, shrill and desperate in her pleading. He felt the heavy presence of Thanos leave his mind, but something else stayed in its place. "You don't need that," she spat towards the scepter in his hand as her teary eyes implored him, hazel to an unnaturally electric blue. "Come with me, be with me. Let these illusions of grandeur go! They will not give you happiness."
He looked at her and expected to feel…something, but he did not. "No." She pulled away from him in horror, for she did not recognize the man in front of her. "No," he repeated, louder this time, his lip curling in a vicious snarl. "I care not for happiness! I will not fall into irrelevancy! I will not remain a failure any longer! I will not disappear into shadows! And I will let no one stand in my way, not even you."
A strangled gasp ripped through Aemilia's throat, but it was not from his biting words. Loki looked down to see the scepter, brutally skewered through his love's chest, sparking blue and dripping red. His cold blue gaze met hers, but he stayed silent. She opened her lips in a futile attempt to say something, but only pitiful, wheezing breaths and a trickle of warm blood left in its place. With a huff, he pulled the scepter from her body with a grunt, and she crumpled in a trembling heap. He watched her as the life slowly left her eyes until she finally stilled, forever frozen by death in a wide eyed expression of betrayal.
Feeling nothing but the powerful numbness radiating throughout him like a balm, he pulled his eyes from the girl beneath him to look beyond. Instead of the prison walls he'd come to know so well, he was met with a wide open scene of a desolate landscape, dark and grim, ruins littering the world. Giant Chitauri beasts flew across the reddened horizon, the air tasted thick and metallic with blood, and the ground was engulfed with death, rotten and festering. The mangled bodies of hundreds of thousands Midgardians and Asgardians and Jotuns alike lay strewn beneath his feet, pools of blood blinding against their death-paled skin.
Fulfilling his birthright, he was a king, but a king of ashes that tasted putrid in his mouth.
Aemilia still laid just before him, joined by the lifeless and bloodied figures of his father, his mother, and a broken Thor. Their frozen, unblinking stares and silent screams cut through the numbing void in his heart, and he felt himself crack into madness underneath their gaze.
The day after she met with Asmund, Aemilia made sure to visit Loki again. She had yet to speak with Frigga about her predicament and the choices that laid before her, but in the light of their promise to be completely honest with each other, she decided to proceed in telling him immediately. Maybe they could come to an agreement together.
It was late that evening when the crystal transported her visage into his cell. As of late, she almost always found him scribbling away at his desk or intently flipping through a book no matter what time of night, so she was shocked to see him laid out on his cot with eyes shut, breathing low and even.
There was, ironically, a Vanir history book still open on his lap, one hand still resting on the edge of the cover. He must have fallen asleep mid-page. A little smile turned up her lips. She certainly couldn't blame him; he had reached a concerning level of exhaustion in the past few days. He needed rest.
She was going to pull away from the cell to let him sleep, but she couldn't help but pause to watch him for a moment. He looked so…beautiful, relaxed and startlingly young in this state of slumber. The image made her heart ache for days past when she would awaken to that very face just as the sun began to peak over the horizon, the gentle sunlight illuminating his pale skin in a way that would take her breath away. What she wouldn't give to wake to that again.
As she watched him, however, she noticed Loki's eyebrows slowly pull together in a troubled grimace. He fidgeted slightly, his hands curling into claw-like fists to grip at the sheets.
"Loki?" she called his name. His slumber was clearly turning into a nightmare.
He did not respond to her call, and his nightmare escalated quickly. His entire body tensed down from his clenched jaw to his feet. His head tossed from side to side, and suddenly a low whine unfurled from his lips. "Loki!"
Nothing. Aemilia's concern morphed into a throat-tightening panic for him in an instant. He would not respond to her voice, and she could do nothing to shake him awake. She could only watch his descent into Valhalla knows what horrors were tormenting his mind.
The drag of breath in his throat grew heavy and laborious and his chest rose up and down in a mad chase for air. Aemilia called him again and again and again but he couldn't wake up, and like Hel one of these guards would have mercy and jar him awake with a bang of their armored fist on the cell wall.
Loki's face turned in her direction, and her heart broke for him when she saw hot tears escape his tightly clenched eyes. He forlornly whimpered, "No….no, no, no, please. I didn't mean to."
"Loki, wake up!"
"Please come back."
"Loki!"
Loki suddenly shot upright with a violent gasp, his reddened eyes frantically looking about but unseeing in his visceral panic. He practically leapt out of bed in his bewilderment.
Aemilia's visage could only stand there and futilely reach for him, so she did the best she could to calm him with her voice. "Loki, my darling…it was just a dream. Loki, I'm here. I'm right here."
His once clouded vision slightly cleared when he head whipped around in her direction. She saw the very moment he recognized her.
"Aemilia," he brokenly panted. His hysterical green eyes looked her up and down like he couldn't believe she was actually there. In his confusion, he suddenly reached for her as if to grab on and never let go, but his shaking hands merely distorted a mirage.
He looked from his hands up to her face, pretty hazel eyes awash with tears. "It was only a nightmare, Loki."
A semblance of clarity settled in his expression, and with that clarity came both relief and unyielding pain. He staggered away from her towards the wall, and his face crumpled in anguish as he slid to the floor, head cradled in his hands.
Aemilia hadn't seen him this distraught since his true parentage had been revealed, but this was somehow even worse. More unhinged, more disturbed, and unbelievably more complicated than before. Loki took pride in his near perfect look of control and indifference, and for that to be shattered as drastically as it was now, Aemilia couldn't imagine what images had caused it.
She moved forward and kneeled down next to him – if she were actually physically there, their legs would be touching. "Loki, what happened?"
His hand wiped hard at his bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks. He shook his head and didn't meet her gaze.
Enough was enough. "Loki, you cannot – cannot – keep burying everything on the inside. I know you, I know you never want to show weakness or inferiority. I know you would rather let everyone view you as an indifferent, arrogant man with no feelings than to do that, but keeping everything just simmering under the surface will eventually destroy you. Please talk to me," she pled.
He leaned his head back against the wall and he just looked so tired. "I can't. I can't Aemilia," he wearily rebutted. Those heart-achingly green eyes finally moved to meet hers. She had only seen that look from him once before.
When they had made such dreaded eye-contact as he chose to leave her and fall into nothing.
Fear coursed through her body like a deadly sickness, but she pushed on. "Why not?"
With a heavy sigh, he answered, "Because…because I don't want you to see what I've done. I can't have you look at me like everyone else does. Like Thor."
"I won't," she assured him.
He didn't believe her for a moment. "You will."
She moved an inch closer to him and looked him dead in the eye. With a pained swallow, she said, "Loki, I know you're fearful of my reaction, but not knowing is torturing me." Her throat burned holding back from crying. "My imagination runs wild, thinking of all the horrific things that may have happened to you…by you." Her voice diminished to a murmur. Loki's gaze wavered from hers. "Even though I don't know the extent, I know innocent lives were lost or ruined because of your decisions on Midgard. I still lay awake at night wondering why—how you could choose to leave me in the first place." Her speech wavered at the memory. After a steadying breath, her eyes locked onto his again. "Nevertheless, I'm still here, with you, every day. Maybe that makes me naïve or idiotic, but…I don't care. Even though I'm conflicted and frightened and worried, those feelings are nothing compared to the joy I have knowing that you're alive. You're certainly not in an ideal situation, but you're alive and you're safe." His face visibly softened at her sentiment. "I believe I've already proven myself through everything that I will not shun or leave you, no matter what you have to say. I know you're burdened," she added in one final plea, "but you don't have to carry that burden all on your own."
Loki was silent for a very long time, anguish and exhaustion so deep-rooted into his entire being. He sighed and wearily leaned his head back against the wall again. Aemilia could see the contemplation play out on his face. Just as one left over tear escaped to fall down his cheek, he whispered, "I can't."
Whatever hope Aemilia was holding onto disintegrated. "Loki—"
"—No, listen," he cut her off, sitting upright again. "I can't…I don't think I can talk about it, but…" His intense hesitation was clear, but he continued anyway, "I'll show you."
Show her? He quickly rose from the floor, grabbed Frigga's crystal from his desk and returned to his previous spot. Before she could ask any questions, Loki explained, "About a month ago, you mentioned eventually being able to show me your memories firsthand. That…caused me to ponder over something for a while. This crystal does not bind us physically, but it can connect us visually, emotionally, and mentally." His eyes flashed up to hers as he clasped the crystal in both hands. "If you reach your mind out to me as far as you are able, specifically through this crystal, I believe I'll be capable of picking up on your aura."
Despite her worry of what he might show her, her heart nearly leapt out of her chest in relief. He was opening up to somebody. Finally.
She nodded and straightened up a bit to focus, and he looked up at her warily. "Are you sure?" he asked, deathly serious. Rightly so.
To be honest, if she thought really hard of what was possibly to come, no, she wasn't, but she ultimately didn't care. She would take whatever he shared with her and deal with it, head on. They locked eyes and she nodded. "Yes. I'm sure."
Loki paused before accepting her answer. He then settled his gaze to the crystal cradled in his hands. "Now, feel the energy radiating from the crystal that grounds your visage to it. Find it, latch on, and then open your mind."
Aemilia took a calming, preparing breath and looked down to the crystal momentarily until she shut her eyes in concentration. Attempting something so…unfamiliar and intangible made her feel like she was back in Loki's secret training area with the healing springs, grasping at an unknown energy source with next to nothing to gauge herself on. She was highly improved since that first day, but she only had a mere two years against Loki's millennia of practice.
She was hardly ever one to back down from a challenge, however.
She projected her mind outward, searching, listening beyond the walls of her chambers, the twists and turns of the palace, through the depths of the prison beneath. Her body sat stock still, the tiniest beads of sweat beginning to form at her hairline. Loki clenched his eyes shut further, beginning to sense her presence, though still too far to reach.
"You're almost there, Aemilia. I can feel it. Just a bit further. Breathe."
Aemilia hadn't even realized her breath had indeed entirely stopped amidst her tension. She did as Loki said, relaxing her limbs as she did and pressed further towards the faint energy glowing from the crystal so many floors below her. Loki felt the surge and quickly grasped at it before it glimmered away.
The past lovers gasped in shock as light burst behind their eyes, their minds suddenly merging together as one. Each other's auras swept over their bodies like a tidal wave. Their thoughts and inner selves converged with an overwhelming vengeance that left both parties breathing heavy and with shivers down their spines.
Aemilia.
Loki's silken voice enveloped her entire being, echoing through all her consciousness and radiating down to her very fingertips. Aemilia, focus. Answer me, he gently commanded. In her awe, she hadn't replied.
Yes, yes I'm here, I feel you.
She could feel the warming comfort that washed over him at the sound of her voice. That warmth quickly soured, though, as Loki's palpable, stomach-churning dread of what was to come returned. I'm currently withholding my memories from you. When I let them go…I won't have any control of what you or I see after that. Also, be prepared for the possibility of my memories mixing with your own. A mutual telepathic connection like this…really, I imagine anything is possible.
Aemilia feared possibly revisiting some of the worst pain in her life, but…that fear was not enough to change her mind.
Have you done something like this before? she asked.
He paused, but Aemilia knew his answer from feeling his hesitation before he could say anything. ...No, I have not.
She nodded – or maybe she only nodded in her own head, she truly couldn't tell with how disconnected her mental state was from her physical. Whichever the case, Loki sensed it.
This is your last chance to back out.
No, she said, a bit of fiery defiance in her tone that made him smile ever so slightly. I'm seeing this through – we're seeing this through.
Both of their trepidation and fear and hope and care swirled between them, and they could no longer tell which emotion was their own.
Then, Loki finally opened the floodgates.
It was almost as if the floor beneath Aemilia's feet gave way, leaving her spiraling into sheer, blood-curdling chaos. Lights spastically flashed before her eyes, images moving too fast to even comprehend, and a deafening roar of noise battered against her ears. A bitter, metallic taste filled her nose. Burning heat licked at her back. Horrific screams pierced and brutally rang through her skull. Aemilia's hands flew to clutch at her head from the onslaught of pain and dismay and bewildering chaos that assaulted her entire being.
Loki! she desperately called out to him. Perhaps she could help ground him enough for the memories to slow and make actual sense. She didn't think her mind could take him throwing everything at her at once.
She reached out for him, calling his name again, trying to find the man buried beneath his memories. She could tell immediately when he finally sensed her presence again. Loki, I can't…I need you to slow down. Breathe.
She could feel his lungs shakily fill with air before exhaling more smoothly. Like a violent storm suddenly waning, the flashes and screaming dimmed. The images finally came into focus with a brilliant explosion.
Suddenly she was being violently thrown up into the air, shards of the shattered rainbow bridge flying past her until she found herself desperately gripping at the handle of Gungnir and looking up at the pained faces of Thor and Odin.
Dread stirred in the pit of her stomach as she realized what she was looking at from Loki's point of view.
A feeling of intense failure that was not her own swept through her. The overwhelming need to find acceptance so palpable she could feel it radiating through her bones. I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us! he plead, voice cracking in his desperation.
Aemilia and Loki looked up into Odin's face and saw nothing but disappointment and exhaustion as he merely said in reply, No, Loki.
In that moment of vulnerability, Loki literally hanging off a precipice by one hand, Odin told him that after all he had done…he still wasn't good enough and never would be. Tear-filled rage bubbled up in Aemilia as she experienced firsthand Loki's failure and self-loathing overtake him to where he lost the will to live, to try any further, and he let go. The last thing she saw was herself, peering over the broken bridge and wailing in horror.
Everything went dark.
Then, in both a split second and what felt like a hundred years, Aemilia experienced hurtling through pockets of space, ripping at her flesh and tearing at her mind. She was no stranger to pain, but throughout all her trials, she had never lost the will to live. In that moment, through Loki's memories, she knew what it felt like to wish death upon herself and be entirely unable to achieve it. If sliced wrists and a cut throat could not end it, she feared she would never find peace.
She relived Loki's landing on a foreign planet, its atmosphere liquefying his insides, narrowly escaping through another ripple in space, only to find himself captured by nightmarish ghouls looking to be sold back to the Jotuns, ensuring torture for the rest of his days until the mysterious Other appeared as a demonic savior, promising power. Loki cared not for power, but it may lead to the peaceful, quiet death he so craved.
Yet, he simply traded one torture for another far worse. Aemilia could feel her flesh burn with Loki's, the stinging crack of a whip against his back, the sharp smell of his singed hair assaulting his nose, the ripping of his throats as he screamed in agony. The false visions forcing his way into his – now their – minds, Thor throwing him into the abyss, and the pitiful, heart wrenching realization that his mouth had been brutally sewn shut in an attempt to dampen his sharp tongue.
Aemilia eventually felt Loki's perception of reality begin to diminish. It was by no means a quick change, it was subtle…seeping into his thoughts little by little until it had overtaken him. It turned his desire to die into a sickening need for brutal vengeance. He had fought it in the rare moments of stillness, he truly had, hanging onto what was left of who he was. Back in her physical body, she could feel hot tears begin to fall from her tightly clenched eyes as she heard him murmuring that simple little lullaby to himself in a last effort to ground himself to his reality.
As she knew, he eventually lost that battle.
Everything made so much more sense to Aemilia now, seeing what he had seen. She witnessed his false visions of her cruel rejection of his true form, quivering in fear at the monster he had revealed himself to be and furiously blaming him for the death of their child, and then she saw herself in Loki's bed with Fandral. The fury and betrayal that Aemilia felt wash over Loki was so intense it made her nauseated, and that fury was fueled the moment the Other placed the scepter in his hand, its demented power and influence seeping into his sub-consciousness, blinding him to reality.
Watching the events on Midgard was one of the most painful sights Aemilia ever had to witness. She was never a stranger to Loki's darker side, for it was vast and by no means hidden in the shadows, but she knew that in his core, he could be tender and loving and good. She could feel the hatred and bitterness swirling within him like a demon whispering in his ear. The Loki she knew had never even wanted a throne, but with his undying desire to prove himself, the external powerful forces subtly influencing him, and a disturbing level of near-madness, he stood amongst the Hel-sent Chitaurian beasts in a mad dash for control. She could no longer recognize him. So when she did begin to recognize the little glimmers of the man she knew – flickers of uncertainty brought about by Thor's presence or the mention of her – her heart broke for him. He was just so confused, and to feel his mind grapple at what was real or questioning what it was that he truly wanted pained Aemilia to the bottom of her soul. As his failure became imminent, she felt an expected level of panic and fear – what was the Other to say? – but there was also a level of…relief. Maybe he didn't want all of this mayhem…maybe he didn't want Midgard at all. Why would he – raised amidst gods – want to rule a world of mortals with a fraction of his lifespan in the first place? But…he thought that was what he wanted…wasn't it?
His confusion and uncertainty and frustration and anger heightened upon his official defeat and his return to Asgard, chained like a dog and ushered towards the palace like a petulant child. Aemilia heard her own voice pierce the air behind him. "Loki!"
Loki had immediately known it was her. The familiarity of her voice washed over him like an anointing, with surprisingly no thought of his feelings of betrayal towards her. After having thought he would likely never see her again, the visage of her wide-and-teary-eyed figure calling after him set his heart beating wildly behind his collected exterior. She could feel how struck he was with her, how divinely beautiful he found her still to be, and for a split second, all he could process was how much he had desperately missed her.
That feeling was utterly doused the moment Fandral appeared. Images of their writhing, naked bodies in his bed came crashing down upon him, and the fleeting feeling of love and reunion quickly snapped under the weight of his disgust and loathing.
She saw flashes of his days and nights in prison. The amount of his penance already served was only a miniscule fraction of his overall sentence, and it already felt like an eternity. He stewed in his loneliness and anger, but as he had more time to think, the more his mind gained clarity. His regard to her eventually softened as he recalled all of their history with a clear head, all that they had discovered, all that they had endured.
It was at this point that Aemilia's memories began to meld with Loki's. The two tore down any and all barriers left between them as – with no particular order of events – they relived their shared and individual pasts and revealed all that they had ever held within themselves.
Flashes of their first meeting, teasing, a stolen kiss on a balcony; their mutual despair upon news of Aemilia and Dagr's engagement; discovering the life they had created together; Loki's bone chilling panic of possibly losing them both; their adventures experimenting with Aemilia's budding magic; Aemilia's incomprehensible pain as she screamed at Odin for perpetrating his fall; the laughter they shared dancing in Vanaheim; their heated and irrational argument that led to him banishing her from the palace; the pride he felt at publically claiming her as his own at Thor's coronation announcement; her shaking voice singing their lullaby at his private funeral; Aemilia cheekily showing up at a royal banquet adorned in green and gold in secret declaration of who she belonged to; her unknowingly self-imposed projections of Loki that taunted and played with her guilt after his fall; Loki bestowing an immortal rose to her after her opening night; their naked bodies twisting and turning with each other, sometimes breathtakingly rough, sometimes heartachingly gentle, or sometimes so loving it could bring tears to their eyes.
They both could sense themselves finally begin to calm from the onslaught of information, and just before they pulled from the connection, they were both swept away to that distant, quiet night with Loki's head resting on her bare chest, asking her to sing for him.
In love we'll find our way, my love.
Their connection came to a close, and together, Aemilia and Loki opened their eyes to the real, present world.
In the moment when their gazes collided, they felt as if they were truly seeing each other for the first time. There were no walls, no facades, no secrets of any kind, not a trace of dishonesty in their newfound connection. But while liberating, it left them both entirely exposed and unnervingly vulnerable, and the sheer level of pure emotion that emanated from them in the aftermath of what they experienced left them overwhelmed and breathing hard.
Loki's eyes were red and flooded with tears as his bright green gaze bore into her, and he was met with the very same from Aemilia.
Aemilia had no idea what to say, what she could say after witnessing what she had. She could barely even process what she was feeling. Could she even put an exact name to it when she was feeling so many different things simultaneously? A couple of tears escaped down her cheeks as she shakily breathed his name, "…Loki, I—"
He gently cut her off before she could formulate a proper sentence. "I'm sorry," he muttered, eyes so pain and guilt ridden that she could barely withstand eye contact with him without wincing. "I'm sorry," he said again, jaw clenching as if to stave off further tears forming. "I'm so sorry you had to see and experience all of that, no one deserves tha– that burden, especially you."
A slight rise of panic simmered in Aemilia's heart hearing him say that. She didn't want him to regret showing her, and she by no means wanted this to lead to Loki unexpectedly regressing. "No, Loki, no, please stop apologizing for this," she plead, voice quiet yet strained. "I wanted to see, and I still don't regret it in the slightest." He looked at her, equally exhausted and frantic eyes searching hers before finally giving her the tiniest of nods. "What I do regret," she added, watery eyes falling to her hands that rested in her lap. "Seeing all that you had to endure," she redirected, "I never could have imagined all that I saw. No one should suffer as you have. I would not wish that fate to my greatest enemy, and seeing you have to just…I can't—"
"Please, Aemilia, I don't want your pity," he wearily interjected. She didn't really perceive this visceral emotional reaction to seeing his memories as pity, but she didn't really know what to alternatively label it as, so she didn't refute him. "I conceded to show everything to you – not because I want you to feel sorry for my plight – but because I don't want there to be any walls between us anymore." She looked back up to him, surprised at his blunt openness. "There's enough physical barriers between us already. And you were right. Keeping everything buried was killing me, and aside from Mother, you are all I have, Aemilia. It took me a long time of clearing my head to realize it, but your presence is what is keeping me sane down here in this desolate hole. I didn't want the unknown of what happened to both of us while I was gone to cause anymore tension or unease."
He paused, a cloud of guilt darkening his expression as he seemed to momentarily struggle for words. "In light of this further clarity, I'm deeply sorry for the way I treated you when you first visited me. I was…cruel, and—"
"Trust me," she gently assured, reaching her hand out as if to grasp his. It only could only hover above his, though. "After witnessing…all of that, believe me, I understand why you acted as you did." Though, indeed, Aemilia did not look back on that memory in fondness. The yelling, the accusations, her backhanding him…it was one of their darkest moments together.
He stayed firm. "Still, that's not an excuse. I said many unfair and untrue things to you and deserved far worse than what you gave to me. I'm sorry it took me this long to acknowledge it. Deep down I always knew."
She smiled at him appreciatively, touched by his open sincerity, which was something she was not entirely used to receiving from him very often. "Worry of that night no more. I believe we are both beyond that night now."
Their conversation gave way to silence for a while. The two sat there on the floor across from each other, practically unmoved since before they connected, and both developed a momentarily faraway look, images of what they had seen flashing behind their eyes again. There was so much pain and fear and misery and death that it was suffocating, but Aemilia took great comfort in knowing that despite all of those terrible things, they had shared good memories, too.
"I'm glad it wasn't all bad," she said quietly, a tiny smile at her lips.
Loki's eyes refocused back on her. "What?"
"Your – our? Our memories," she clarified, almost bashfully. "I'm glad they aren't all bad. Some of what we saw were some of my most treasured moments."
His expression softened, and he cracked a small smile for the first time that night. "No…no they're not. Seeing you every day and having all this time to think – and think clearly – it's helped me remember that."
The two of them stared warmly at each other for a moment, and Aemilia felt herself almost blush before she brought up, "That…old lullaby. I had no idea it had left such an impact on you, too."
His smile grew even further, with just a spark of the playful mischief she knew and loved so much lighting up his eyes as he said, "Well, it is a lovely song, but I admit it has far less to do with the song than the voice I first heard sing it and the memory surrounding it."
She thought back to that specific moment, their bodies tangled up in each other in a post coital glow, his head on her bare breast, listening to her heart beat and feeling the reverberations of her voice in her chest. The blush she had managed to stave off returned in full force, and Aemilia looked down at her hands to escape the look he was giving her.
Amidst her light flush that Loki was admiring, she said quietly, "Thank you for tonight. For…opening up to me. I know it was…'difficult' doesn't even begin to cover it."
His expression fell serious. "Thank you for being her for me day in and day out, even when I act like a cross, ungrateful child." His eyes flashed up to hers as he said so intently he almost looked right back into her head. "I'm quite certain you're the only thing keeping me sane, Aemilia."
Her heart picked up, pounding at her ribs with a vengeance. The conversation had taken a turn she hadn't expected and was entirely unprepared for. "I-I need you, too, you know."
Loki scoffed lightly, but she saw something genuinely surprised and emotional in his eyes that indicated he felt her comment much more deeply than he let on. "I don't understand why, but I won't question it." He looked her over, quietly noting how tired she looked. In a deep, velvety murmur, he said, "It's late. I'm sure you need your rest for an undoubtedly long day at the theatre tomorrow."
He was entirely right, but she didn't want to leave, not after all of this. So much had transpired, she didn't know how she could just go back to her chambers and go to sleep like normal. "…But I don't have to leave. I could stay."
"…No, no it's fine. We've underwent a rather emotional rush of information. I think we both have a lot to think on." She could tell he wanted her to stay, too, but he also needed some more time to process on his own. They both did.
She sighed and nodded, conceding, and stood to her feet. He stood with her, looking down at her from his full height. They said nothing as they drank in each other's presence for a few final moments. "Goodnight, Loki," she whispered.
His gaze flitted from her eyes to her lips for just the tiniest of moments before murmuring back, "Goodnight, Aemilia."
Then, she faded from his cell.
Just as Aemilia had predicted, she could not sleep. She tossed and turned in bed for easily two hours as the night turned into the early, dark hours of morning. Even though she was overjoyed that she and Loki seemed to have taken a huge step in the right direction towards recovery, the memories she had experienced through Loki's eyes were horrifyingly disturbing. When she rolled over in bed to lay on her stomach, she could feel the crack of a whip against her back. When settled on her side, she could feel the skin of her arms begin to singe and burn underneath white hot flames. When she tossed over to her back, she could feel the nagging madness creep into her consciousness, whispering words of hate and vengeance.
Earlier, she hadn't been able to place what exactly it was she was feeling. She supposed she had felt pity, in a way, how could she not? But that was an afterthought to what was simmering inside. It took her stewing in her thoughts before she finally could identify it.
Anger. Anger for the Other, for Thanos, for Odin, for Loki's palpable self-hatred, for his sentence, for their separation… And then, on top of that, she remembered with a deep groan the proposition she had been given from Asmund. Choose between improving the career she was so passionate for, experience the culture of her biological father, and leave Loki just when they begin to mend their relationship, or stay and deny her colleagues of an unheard of once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Why had she been dealt such a cruel and unforgiving hand? Why did they even have to be in this situation in the first place?
That anger is what lead Aemilia to the training arena two hours before sunrise without one wink of sleep to account for. She had practiced aiming her throwing knives at unsuspecting wooden posts until she grew bored, and then moved on to drilling some of the combinations with her dagger that Fandral had shown her.
Just as a bit of sweat began to form at her brow, a surprisingly familiar voice sounded behind her. "Can't sleep?"
Taken off guard, Aemilia spun around to see Sif standing there, silver armor aglow in the bright moonlight.
"Sif? What are you doing back in Asgard?" she inquired.
The dark haired warrior casually shrugged, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword as per habit. "Finished tying up loose ends in Alfheim a bit earlier than expected and thought I might take a couple days break. Visit home before meeting up with the boys in Nidavellir." She looked at Aemilia curiously. "Why are you out here by yourself in the middle of the night?"
Aemilia fiddled with her dagger a bit. "Just…a lot on my mind, I suppose. I figured I could get up and do something instead of lay in bed and stare at the ceiling."
Sif's brows pulled together. "Is something wrong?"
Yes. "No, everything is fine." She started up her drills again, not particularly caring about Sif's unexpected presence. She was too tired to care.
Sif didn't say anything for a bit as Aemilia moved about, sometimes with a much smoother execution than other times. After a few repetitions, Sif lowly asked, "…How's Loki?"
Uneasiness prickled up Aemilia's spine. Why would Sif ask that? "…How would I know? I'm not allowed to see him. No one is." Her movements hitched only slightly.
Sif didn't look entirely convinced. Of what in particular, Aemilia didn't know, but the warrior thankfully didn't press. "Fandral told me of your courtship ending," she abruptly stated. "Why, if you don't mind my asking? You two seemed rather happy. I know Fandral was unbelievably content being in the first legitimate relationship in his life," she added with a slight chuckle for her friend's long list of past conquests.
Aemilia sighed; she wasn't really in the mood for this conversation. "…I care for Fandral deeply, but I instigated that relationship much too early. I realized that I was not nearly ready."
"So it had nothing to do with Loki's sudden return?"
Aemilia stopped moving, looking over to Sif with as much irritation in her eyes that she could muster. Why was this woman taking such interest in her now? "You know, Sif, I have no real problem with you, but we've never really been friends." She sheathed her dagger and crossed her arms. "You don't have the right to speak with me on such matters, and, frankly, the answers to your questions do not concern you in the slightest."
"I know we've never been close," Sif countered. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I understand how you feel."
The look of incredulity that Aemilia gave the woman was astounding. "You have no idea how I feel, Sif," she snapped.
From the look on Sif's face, Aemilia could tell she hadn't intended for this conversation to take the turn it had. She clarified, "I know how it feels to love someone you can't be with. I know how it feels to be so close but so far from what you want."
Aemilia scoffed, so beyond irritated that her normal social filter had disappeared. "I'm sorry, but my situation with Loki is entirely different from your unrequited love for Thor."
Sif's olive green eyes widened in near-hurt. Per her usual warrior-like countenance, however, the expression neutralized immediately. "…Fair enough," she conceded, "but the base line remains the same. I don't personally understand how, but you love him. And he is entirely out of your reach."
"What's your point?"
Sif exhaled. "Don't let Loki's return keep you from moving on. You were on the right path with Fandral. I'm not suggesting you should be with him again or that you should move on now...just, don't waste your life waiting on someone you can't have." Her voice dropped as she somberly added, "He's never getting out of that cell, Aemilia. You know that."
That same anger she had been harboring flared with an additional touch of defiance. "We'll see."
Sif's posture straightened up, almost alarmed, "…You're not trying something, are you? Whatever it is, it won't work."
Aemilia wished she could. "I'm not trying anything; I'm not stupid," she bit out, unsheathing her dagger again. "But a life sentence is a long time. Who knows what might happen?" She started up the combination again, hoping that Sif would take the hint as her cue to leave.
"Your stance is wrong."
Aemilia stopped moving and looked down, not seeing what Sif was.
"Here," she offered quietly. Sif approached and gently adjusted Aemilia's heel with her foot. Aemilia immediately felt the difference in stability. "I'm sorry for overstepping," Sif apologized.
Aemilia sighed again, standing up straight. Her anger had dimmed some, at least, and helped her think a bit more clearly. "It's fine." She looked up to the taller woman, "I understand you're just trying to help. I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's been…a really long day." Long month. Long year.
Sif nodded in empathy, and the two women's argument became water under the bridge. "So…," she started with a small grin. "You're out here to let off some steam, huh? Want to try your hand in the arena with me?"
Aemilia couldn't help but find the proposition intriguing. It would certainly prove to be a needed distraction. She eyed the brunette a little warily before smirking, "…Not if you try to go too easy on me."
Sif's eyes flashed in respect for the novice combatant's spunk. She placed her right fist above her heart and declared, "You have my word."
Aemilia flipped the blade around in her hand and grinned back.
"Then let's do this."