Chapter 3

Days stretched to weeks, then months. I was with Loki every day but it heavily impeded my agent training which, so Fury had decreed, I had to complete. The security of this facility with regard to the very illustrious prisoner relied almost entirely on me and I was not up to the task, the director had found. Loki would not wait patiently. He would try to find the holes in our security system and I was its greatest weakness. So two hours were taken off my free time for extra training. I didn't complain. Not much, at least. It was necessary. Loki had this subtle smile, sly and knowing, and it was not making me feel especially secure.

Fury had tried to wiggle the truth about his employer out of Loki, had tried to determine where these aliens had come from but all analyses had yielded no results. Loki, meanwhile, still seemed to enjoy himself thoroughly. He was cheerful at times, angry more often, arrogant and disdainful all the time. That, too, worried the director. He had tried to seat me in a small room next door to limit my contact with Loki (I had been deemed susceptible to manipulation) but with the heavy stone and iron wall in-between my shields had been so weak that the Asgardian prisoner had managed to manipulate Gerry Dunham and gotten as far as the second security door with his fingerprint and keycard.

Afterwards, there was no further talk of my susceptibility and I got a table to go with my chair.

"You look tired today," he remarked, grinning. "Did you have an enjoyable night? Feasting and drinking after a hard day's work?"

"I haven't had an hour off since you're here," I complained. His insinuation didn't sit right with me.

"Nor will you until either of us is gone. As I see it, Miss Dalton, you are as much my prisoner as I am yours."

"My cage is just a lot bigger."

"A sad brag, don't you think?"

When I only shrugged, he went on. "That must feel meaningless to you. You will spend your entire existence guiding me and the moment you are gone, there might come another...or I will be free of you and live for a thousand years or more."

I should have shrugged. I could have said something like "Why, I thought you were going to escape?" That would have been sensible. Instead, I grinned at him, idiot that I was, and said: "Well, gifted as I am with these powers to imprison you, I might also live for a thousand years."

I had no idea whether that was true. I only remembered the scientist's comment that my cells were going to keep me young and fresh for a long time, perhaps for centuries. It was nothing I usually thought about – who would want immortality if all others around you die? But right now, it seemed like a good retort. It wasn't, but we'll come to that now.

"Immortal mediocracy," Loki had a way of drawing words out to give them weight. Mediocracy, mediocracy, mediocracy, his voice whispered in my head, again and again. "You must be thrilled, Miss Dalton. Or are you planning on improving your skills?"

It was starting to get on my nerves. I mean, I knew I was mediocre but it's not especially uplifting to be reminded of that again and again, first by Fury and Hill, then by Natasha and Barton, albeit indirectly, and now by an imprisoned half-god/alien.

And I was already giving it my all: I was working on upholding my shields from farther away, thrice a week for two hours. It wasn't going swimmingly but I was getting better. Perhaps I could complete my agent training at some point while upholding my shields from afar. It wasn't much of a dream but at least it was a goal.

"I don't think that concerns you," I said, wise for once, but it didn't stop him, now that I had kicked the stone into motion.

"I have often wondered what kind of accident it was that gave you your power. You obviously do not know how to use it so you didn't learn it, like I did. I would bet you had an earlier encounter with a higher life form, one that wasn't quite as civil as me."

Higher life form. I wished I had his confidence.

"You consider yourself civil?" I only asked but somehow, he read the answer on my face once again.

"Probability is strange sometimes, don't you think? These powers could have been transferred to a highly intelligent, strong, determined person. Instead, they went to you."

I was used to his remarks by now but they still stung, a little worse every time. "Well, it seems you know the feeling."

"I cannot say I do. I was born on Asgard, that in itself is extraordinary. We were made to rule over planets and galaxies. You humans are like ants," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Hard-working and simple, only waiting to be squashed by a boot." He truly was an arse.

"Well, turns out your boot wasn't big enough, huh?"

He didn't deny it. He didn't talk about that big baddie somewhere in space that was out to get us.

""That doesn't make you any less weak." He stood directly in front of me, looking down upon me in my chair. I knew he wasn't talking about the entire human race, he was also addressing me personally. I should have developed some sort of resilience against his barbs by now but I was sensitive. And prone to crying. Not a great combination, I can tell you.

"Perhaps," I said and bit into my apple to distract myself, "but I'm not incarcerated on the planet of ants."

Loki's face twisted into a mocking smile.

"You are right, Miss Dalton."

I knew something was up then. Carefully, I checked my psionic shields (it felt as stupid as it sounds, really, like checking something in your imagination). I felt nothing yet he still stared at me with that unnerving smile. I was starting to feel insecure.

"You should sit down." I didn't like the way he stood, all tense and expectant, like a cheetah, ready to jump.

"Do I make you nervous, Miss Dalton?"

"You are in a cell made of super dense glass. My shields are still strong. You can't get out, you can't do magic."

His smile only grew bigger.

"All of that is true."

He laid a hand on the transparent wall. I could see where his skin touched the glass, the hollow of his palm.

"Sit down." I stood up in turn. "Do as I tell you." There was a threat in my voice, I hoped, and in the way I stood, both feet planted firmly on the ground.

"Who am I to take commands from the likes of you?" He laughed in my face.

"You killed and you destroyed and now you are punished for it. I don't like all this –"

Now, Loki pressed a second palm to the glass. I flinched back instinctively, and cursed myself for it. "Oh, spare me, Miss Dalton. Underneath your dim-witted smiles and obnoxiously fluffy jackets you are as self-righteous as the others. You rejoice to see me punished. You are weak and, at times, infuriatingly ignorant. A pathetic excuse of a guard but –"

It was one time too many. Perhaps he was simply taunting me to find out where my breaking point was. If so, he had been successful.

"Don't you say that," I hissed, "or I will –"

"I already said it." His grin was smug.

"Well, don't say it again then," I said, quick-witted as usual. "Because this cell has something in store for you." That seemed like a big enough threat. Torture. Yes, that was terrible. Cruel. Heartless. That would show him, I hoped. I wasn't as weak as he said. I could hurt him, if I had to. I took a step towards him but it didn't seem to make an impression.

He laughed again, hands still on the glass. "Is that so? Are you threatening to torture me, Miss Dalton?" Loki didn't fear me. He didn't even think of me as a proper being, it seemed. And wasn't he right? The thought of pulling the lever alone made me sick.

"I thought that was obvious." I put my hands on my hips to reinforce my statement.

"I don't believe you," his voice was soft as a caress now. "Firstly, you are clearly too soft for torture and furthermore, your kind is incapable of devising an instrument of torture for a God."

I knew a universal answer to that. "Perhaps the Hulk would like to share your cell with you."

That ought to frighten him, I thought. It had been Banner who'd done for him in the first place. But Loki didn't shy away.

"Is he your answer to everything, I wonder? The only capable resident of Midgard?"

Damn it.

"Well, some were capable of devising a cell to hold you," I pointed out.

"The achievement of their lifetime. 70 odd years not gone to waste. There must be a celebration. What will you do with your remaining...40 years, Miss Dalton?"

Now he was definitely playing with me. Loki had to have some knowledge of my accident, or at least a theory that he was trying to test now. I saw no reason to lie to him on this account. Showing him how strong I was could only work in my favour.

"You already know I'll live longer than that. You want to find out more about my accident, don't you? So that you can find out my weaknesses."

I gave him a triumphant smile.

"It takes no pointed questions to find out your weaknesses, Miss Dalton. But yes, you have unravelled my evil plan. How clever of you. And it was so complex and conniving. A formidable effort on your part."

I hated him. Or, well, I was very close to hating him. His face and his smile and his voice. That most of all. In all my 26 years, no one had ever made me feel like this. He was a bully and I was no match for him. What had Fury been thinking when he sent me here? But there was no use in feeling inferior, and there was definitely no use in letting him see my insecurity.

"In your thousand years you haven't come up with a better idea than world domination," I pointed out and forced a mocking (or so I hoped) smile.

"And that helps your case how, exactly, if I may ask?" he asked, his voice as polite and cold as ever.

"Well, you're not as innovative as you think. You're yesterday's news. Old-fashioned." This wasn't a debate I could hope to win. He was cleverer and older and had seen galaxies. But I couldn't simply give up, either, could I?

"Now there lies your mistake, Miss Dalton." He gave me a patronising smile. "When you're a thousand years old, you know that there's no such thing as old-fashioned. There are the wise, the foolish, and the young. The latter two are of course not mutually exclusive. The young tend to be foolish, in fact."

By now, I stood only two feet away from the glass wall. I could see the faint grey shadows underneath his eyes, the bruises on his knuckles from one of his early attempts to break the glass, I saw how smooth and pale his skin was, how blindingly green his eyes were. Not that it mattered. I wasn't feeling pity for him. I was certainly not remembering the blue sheen of his eyes when I had first met him. He was trying to lecture me? Well, I had an answer to that.

"You sound like one of those old dudes on the subway that insist they're still up to snuff and then try to grope you." I wished I wasn't speaking from experience.

Loki probably didn't know what a subway was but the faint distaste on his face told me he understood well enough.

"I regret to inform you that vulgarity is no substitute for wit." He truly should've been an actor. There was regret on his face, in his voice, as he mocked me. How did one learn to lie like this, with body and soul and everything in between?

"Neither is arrogance. Tell me, is that the kind of wisdom that comes with old age or are you simply a millennium old jerk?"

Again I wasn't sure whether Loki understood, but of course he wouldn't have admitted it if he hadn't.

"It is simply well-placed self-confidence."

"Well, it is exactly that self-confidence that landed you in this cell."

He had the nerve to reply with a grin: "No, I recall the events in detail and it was your man of metal who did. And that one-eyed barbarian with the very suitable name."

"It had nothing whatsoever to do with your actions on earth?"

Something flickered behind his eyes, very briefly, perhaps a trick of the light. The fluorescent tubes here were terrible.

"The fate of the weak. Had I not done it, someone else would have. And I was benevolent. In a way, you should be grateful. You survived, didn't you?"

I hated the way he smiled down at me, a wide smile that showed his white teeth and made him look like some predatory animal. I knew I should take a step back. A few steps, actually. I was too close. I couldn't allow myself to lose my distanced view. But I stayed where I was.

"Please forgive me if I don't go down on my knees before you."

Now he smiled in a particularly unpleasant way.

"Forgiven. It wouldn't be of much use, anyway, with this glass between us."

I stared at him. Probably open-mouthed, too. Had he really just suggested...No. I felt the heat in my cheeks, my quickened pulse and hoped he didn't see my embarrassment. It couldn't be anyway. He was Loki, Asgardian and half god. He wasn't a real man. I was misunderstanding this situation, that was all. He was sexist, I knew that, and an arse, but this was too close. Too vulgar. He would never insinuate anything like that. It wasn't his style.

But there was a suggestive edge to his smile now and he had clasped his hands behind his back in a pose of pure complacency. He would never say anything this vulgar, not unless he thought it would win him something. Not unless he thought it would fluster me.

"I don't know what you mean," I lied and crossed my arms in front of my chest, determined to look unfazed but Loki only dropped his gaze to my chest, for a moment, not much longer, then looked up at my face.

"Oh, I think you do, Miss Dalton. Have I made you uncomfortable?" He sounded very pleased with himself. "My sincerest apologies."

"Well, I don't have to talk to you. I can just go back to my chair –"

"You can, of course. But we both know that you are as bored as I am. Therefore, I propose a game."

I reddened again and unfortunately, there was no doubt that he'd noticed.

"Nothing of the sort, Miss Dalton."

"You do know that I'm an agent, don't you?" I said, to divert him from my red cheeks.

There was no reason to mention the "probationary" to him.

"I have seen the other agents, too. You are a miss."

"I'm a hit, if anything," I said stubbornly. I wouldn't back down. He was the sort of person that would never forget weakness. I couldn't allow myself to show him he hurt me. I couldn't allow myself to show him that his strategy worked.

"Not yet, perhaps, but once I have escaped, you might just be."

"Is that the dream that keeps you sane? Murdering me?" The thought made me strangely uncomfortable. There was no reason to care. Loki would die in this cell of old age, in a thousand years or so. If I didn't kill him first, of course.

"Do not take this the wrong way, Miss Dalton, but there are much bigger fish to fry. Now, I was proposing a game. It seems foolish to make this assumption but I suppose you are familiar with chess?"

Where had he learned to be such an arrogant jerk?

"Oh, no, please, alien from another world, explain this game to me that has existed in my world for about two thousand years."

Loki tucked a strand of black hair behind his ear and gave a lazy shrug. He was the very image of indifference.

"To be precise," he started, in a bored voice," 'alien from another world' is tautological but of course I am not used to rhetorical refinement from your kind. Still, Miss Dalton, I wonder, is sarcasm your reply to everything?"

Now that was simply outrageous.

"You tell me."

"No, Miss Dalton, I am a cynic. Sarcasm only veils insecurity. A cynist has accepted the cruel reality of life."

"Well, I am so grateful for your clarification."

"Always ready to teach the less, ah, gifted."

I chose not to honour that with a reply.

"Incidentally, yes, alien, I know chess. I have played a lot as a child."

"So, twenty years ago?" he asked with the slyest smile. "Impressive. So much practice you must have gotten."

I felt bad about it already but there was no backing down now.

"I'm not bad," I said stubbornly. I wasn't. Or rather, I hadn't been at the age of fourteen.

"As I am currently impeded, dýou will have to provide the board."

"What do you want?" I asked. "You won't win anything from playing, you know that, right? I won't give you anything for winning."

He smiled. "I'm glad you're already aware I'm going to win, Miss Dalton. I advise you to work on your self-confidence, or at least pretend you have some. It is rather pitiful. As for your question: Well, as you have made abundantly clear, you expect me to spend the rest of my existence in here so even a game of chess with a player as incapable as you will serve as a diversion."

"And why would I want to provide you with entertainment after all the charming things you said to me? I'm not exactly eager to spend time with you."

"It doesn't matter whether you're eager, does it? You have to be here. I like to think that I am infinitely more interested than your books."

"Of course you like to think so."

He smiled. "If you disagree, Miss Dalton, no one forces you to play. Least of all me. It is for the better, probably. You wouldn't be up to the task anyway."

I smiled back. "Indeed. Talking to you is very straining. I feel the desire to smash something."

"There is a very nice glass wall just here. Be my guest." And he gave me a smirk, not mocking, not scornful, only amused. He was handsome like this. It brightened up his eyes and softened his face.

Still. I wouldn't cater to his desires. I had to discuss this with Fury anyway and the director would probably say no.

He didn't. In fact, he approved. Chess was a tactical game and every move Loki made would tell us something about him. So I came to work the next day with a foldable chess board. Loki greeted me with a triumphant grin.

"Miss Dalton, I am overjoyed you have decided to be sensible."

I didn't think I was being particularly sensible. Masochistic, perhaps. Stupid, certainly.

Because I would lose. Again and again and again. And not to my kindly grandfather who'd made it his task to teach me. No, I would lose to an extraterrestrial half god that had tried to rule the world and had not deigned to give me one kind word.

And lose I did. He took my queen, he took my rook, he took my king at a speed that was suspicious. I had to make the moves for him, which was difficult enough, but that way, I should have seen what he was up to, he should have identified his strategy but I didn't.

We played every day for two weeks and still, he was winning every time. I was getting used to it. It was just a part of my job: losing.

"Defend yourself," he told me one Monday afternoon.

I stared at him. In two weeks, he'd never tried to counsel me.

"What?"

"You offer no resistance, Miss Dalton. Look at your queen. My rook will have her in two moves. My knight is poised to take your king and even if that move fails, I have a pawn ready to attack."

I looked at the checkered field. He was right. Uncertainly, I touched my bishop but Loki shook his head. "Have another look. Think ahead."

I looked at the pieces again. Then I took up my knight, the only one I had left. He smiled.

I moved it into the direction of his rook.

"Two to the right," Loki said. "My right."

Away from my knight but not close to my queen.

This time, I reached for my bishop and he said nothing. It took a little longer until I lost my king to him.

"Better," he said. "You can play, I think. Don't give up already. You might just win...in five hundred years."

In five hundred years. Oh God, he was right. That would still be up to me then. Guarding him.

"What is it like? Living for a thousand years?"

"More than that, Miss Dalton. Remember, your people already worshipped me as a god a thousand years ago. Time that passed as quickly as the blink of an eye."

I thought of high school, I thought of the two years I'd already spent with S.H.I.E.L.D. And I believed him.

"I write it down," I promised. "I'll win against you in five hundred years."

It didn't even take that long.

A month or so later, I had moved my table closer to his cell because all the shouting was getting on my nerves. Loki stood above me as usual and I was ready to credit his constant victories to his superior viewpoint.

"Knight to E4."

I obeyed, gazed down at the board – and paused. Had he truly not seen the opening he offered me? His king, right there for me to take. I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, trying not to alert him to his mistake. He didn't even look at me but at the pile of white pieces beside the board – my pieces.

Slowly, I moved his knight to E4, resisting the urge to tell him what I'd seen, resisting the urge to ask him whether he wanted to reconsider.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him move his head.

I took up my bishop, ready to sacrifice it for my victory but it didn't feel good. I should have told him. Perhaps he hadn't seen it.

When I swapped his queen for my bishop, he smiled.

"Check." I said.

"You have worn me out, Miss Dalton, or so it seems." After a quick glance at the board, he shrugged. "Take your bishop with my knight. It won't serve me much but it might make me feel better."

I did as he asked, then took his king with my queen. Gently, I laid the black piece on its side. Loki looked at it intently.

"It hasn't taken five hundred years. Not even one. My mind seems to be losing its edge."

But he didn't seem displeased, not even in the slightest, despite his cutting tone and frown.

"You let me win," I said, knowing it to be true all of a sudden. His averted gaze, the subtle smile, the mask of displeasure he was wearing now.

Loki raised a brow, pointedly, mockingly. "And why would I do that? There is no merit in it for you nor for me."

"It is nice." Or not. I wasn't quite sure.

"And now we know for a certainty that I did not. There is a wide variety of adjectives used to describe me, but never, not in over a thousand years, has anyone called me nice."

He didn't smile now. He didn't frown, either. For once, his face was almost expressionless, except for a softness in his eyes. Longing, perhaps, or sadness.

"You can be nice. It doesn't require work or practice or anything. You can simply be kinder. Won't that make you happier, too?"

Now he smiled, but his smile held no scorn. "It might be simple for you, Miss Dalton. You don't know me. You don't know who I am."

I scooped up the chess pieces and put them back in the box carefully. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. You can tell me."

He looked at me and for a moment, I thought he was about to say something, but then his eyes went up to the ceiling, where the cameras were installed.

"Maybe some other time. It wouldn't feel right to let your one-eyed director win without the slightest struggle."