Hiya, what's up, friends? New story, that's what!

*(If you're following me for Ladybug's Joke, I promise I haven't discontinued it. I'm a little uninspired atm, but I am making slow progress! If anyone wants to betaread, let me know.)*

I co-wrote The Snake and the Star with alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice on Tumblr (same name, but with _ instead of - on AO3), and may I just say it's the best time I've ever had writing a story?

A few weeks ago, I mentioned something on a Tumblr post about wanting to co-write a story about Aaravos and Loki with someone. I couldn't do it alone, since I barely know Marvel. Hope (alls-fair's Tumblr nickname) contacted me (I honestly do not remember if it was a reblog or a dm or what), and three writing sessions later, we had this. Currently hoping to update weekly, but we'll see how well our mages cooperate. -_-

I wrote the Aaravos pov sections, since I rp him on Tumblr (aaravosanswers, come say hi!). Hope wrote from Loki's pov, and my gosh did they do a great job! Their Loki gives me so many feels! Precious boy, I just wanna give him hugs. :(

Hope also titled the chapter and subtitled the story. I did the story title and the cover art. (probably easier to see on my DA)

Cross-posted on Archive of Our Own (alls_fair_in_pride_and_prejudice) and DeviantArt (TamaraADuncan (me)). I'd include links if FFN let me.

***content warning for PTSD***

1: Loki of Asgard and "My Name Would Mean Nothing To You" the Elf

Aaravos isn't sure what's happening. He's trying a new spell to escape his prison. It should turn the mirror glass to mist, letting him step through and walk free. Instead, the glass vanishes entirely, the outside world with it.

Aaravos is… uncertain. This is a rare feeling for him, and one he does not enjoy. He prefers being in control of his surroundings, and not being able to control anything is discomfiting.

Taking a deep breath, he returns to his chair and picks up his spellbook. Perhaps he drew the rune incorrectly, or perhaps the spell called for fresh moth wings instead of dried. At the very least, he should be able to learn what has happened to his only connection with the outer world.

Instead, his prison shakes so violently he cannot finish the first sentence.

Loki is no stranger to accessing other dimensions, since it is a pocket dimension that enables him to keep so many useful tools on hand. However, he could stand to have a little more experience travelling to parallel dimensions himself. Regardless, he has to get the angry Kree off his tail, so preparedness will have to wait. What he had intended to do was jump into his pocket dimension, wait out the danger, then hop back out. Easy.

But, as luck would have it (Loki swore the universe… or rather the multiverse… had some sort of grudge against him) he does not in fact access his pocket dimension. No, instead he finds himself tumbling through the void to an unknown realm.

All he can do, he supposes, is hope for the best and brace for the landing.

Thankfully, he lands on his feet, but the amount of forward momentum still propels him forward almost onto his face. Instead he collides with a wall, a few books falling loose and crashing around him. Quick as the wind, he assumes a defensive stance, knowing it is better to be on one's guard when in unfamiliar territory. A quick assessment confirms that his magic is still there, but a little… off somehow, and his connection to his pocket dimension is gone completely. No weapons but his magic and his words, he can work with that.

Of all the things to result from a mysterious magical earthquake, Aaravos would not have included 'a handsome green-and-gold-clad man crashing on his floor' on the list.

It is, if anything, even stranger when the man leaps to his feet in a defensive stance.

Aaravos, still seated, raises an eyebrow, setting his book aside and folding his hands in his lap. Currently, he holds the power- they are in his home, after all, and the other man is the one on guard. Then again, if he knows more than Aaravos does about this… situation… he could very well have the upper hand.

Aaravos is not fond of this thought.

There is only one way to find out what the stranger knows, Aaravos decides.

He stands in one fluid motion, and bows deeply enough. "Welcome."

Loki turns in the direction of the voice that speaks. He has seen elves before, the light elves of Vanaheim and of course, the dark elves that he fought with his brother, but none like this, if this is even an elf to begin with. The pointed ears and bright eyes suggest as much, but he has never seen one with horns before, and the indigo skin reminds him of a… less pleasant species that he would rather not think about, but this person clearly isn't a frost giant. He's surprised though, that the Allspeak would extend to a person from another dimension, as he could clearly hear the familiar word "welcome."

For now, at least, the person means no harm, and Loki always prefers to get out of situations with his words, if possible, before resorting to any other messier means. He allows himself to relax, at least physically, a little as he greets the being cordially with as charming a smile as he can muster (which is, after a millennia of practice, very charming indeed). "Terribly sorry to intrude, I cannot say I intended to land here. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Loki, of Asgard."

Aaravos sees the stranger's eyes flick to his horns first, then rake down his body with distaste. He notes the color: a vivid green, like an Earthblood elf's.

He's not an Earthblood elf; that he is an elf at all Aaravos isn't sure, despite his curving horns. They look too metallic, too regular to be real. (Also, they seem to be attached to his golden helmet.)

He lets one eyebrow quirk up as the stranger speaks (he has a lovely voice, Aaravos notes, as if he's spent years using it to charm). Asgard. He doesn't think he's ever heard of the place, though perhaps it was mentioned in one of his books, somewhere.

"Welcome, Loki of Asgard, to my humble home." Aaravos gestures around him. "How long do you think you will stay?"

Aaravos does not offer his name. He never does.

It does not escape Loki's notice that the being never offers his name. Others might have been distracted and not noticed, but Loki himself has used the trick before. His name is infamous in the nine realms, after all.

Best not to press it for now, Loki decides. He doesn't plan to be here long anyway. His mind flits through several scenarios of the position to take. He's got the obvious disadvantage when it comes to where he is, and if this being is as clever as he has already indicated, then he will not share the necessary information without a price. He displayed no true shock when Loki arrived, which means this is either a common enough occurrence or, the more likely of the two Loki believes, he knows not to show his hand when confronted with unexpected scenarios.

Loki could attempt sympathy, garner trust by admitting to at least a little lack of knowledge, but when was the last time anyone was genuinely kind to him? He could bluff for more knowledge than he has, but at this disadvantage in unfamiliar terrain, what if he slips? For now, he chooses silence, taking in as much information about this world as he can through his senses.

The basics: nontoxic air for his biology, at least nontoxic enough to not cause any immediate distress. Intelligent life, access to some form of magic, Asgardian-like gravity. Just from the furniture and presence of books (which indicates book binding) he can gather that this realm parallels his enough that he can navigate it like he would another planet rather than a bizarre set of physics and laws of nature to worry about

Rarely has Aaravos had his own tactic of silence turned against him, and he can now truly see why others so easily gave up any advantage they might have had to him. His curiosity burns, eating him up from the inside.

He does not want to offer even a single concession. But perhaps, since Loki gave Aaravos his name, Aaravos can give him something in return. He gestures for Loki to follow him, turning and walking towards his sitting room without checking to see if the other man is following.

Not his own name. Aaravos knows too well what power one can gain by learning someone's name. Perhaps… perhaps a question. That would not only show some concession by admitting his curiosity, it would likely give him another answer.

He decides on a question. "What sort of being are you, Loki of Asgard?"

Asgardian, is the first instinctual answer that his mind supplies, then he has to correct himself. It has been years since that particular revelation, but a millennia or two of believing otherwise is a hard thing to break. It is a reasonable question, given the circumstances, but did this person know just how difficult that would be for him to answer?

A habit by now, Loki hides the pain with a smile. "Just a traveller," he answers. Why couldn't he just say "Frost Giant?" Surely no one in this realm would know what those were? Why couldn't he admit it to the one person that might not immediately spurn him with disgust? "And what of you? I supposed an elf when I first saw you, but you are like none I have seen."

Aaravos hides his smile. 'Just a traveller'? He's sure Loki doesn't think he'd actually believe that; after all, what mere traveller would fall from nowhere, and Aaravos knows people who can suffer a shock and be in a fighting stance almost before they've fallen are extremely rare.

Besides, traveller is a profession of sorts, not a type of being.

Though, at Loki's second comment, the corner of his mouth will not be held back from a smirk. "I am indeed an elf, though I'm not surprised you have not seen one like me before. My kind are quite rare."

What sort of elf has Loki seen? Startouch elves are close enough in appearance to other types of elf that anyone who has ever seen an elf should be able to recognize Aaravos as one.

Elves of Asgard must be as different from the elves Aaravos knows as they are from humans. Perhaps- Aaravos's smirk grows by a hair at this thought- perhaps they do not have horns, or are in possession of pinkos! Such a strange thought.

Entering his sitting room (such an odd thing to be in a prison meant for one elf, but Aaravos has never been one to complain about too much accommodation), Aaravos crosses to his couch and sinks into the soft blue cushions. He cocks an eyebrow at Loki, indicating the other side of the couch.

Loki allows a moment of debate over his next move before shrugging and joining the elf on the couch, He is, and always has been, an elegant mess of long limbs, but there is still enough space to be comfortable. He rests one arm on the back of the seat. As another gesture of respect, he removes his helmet and sits it on the arm next to him, playing with the horns absentmindedly with his other hand. It is little habits like this that have always helped him keep his ever chaotic mind under control.

Loki taking his horns off is, if not entirely unexpected, still rather surprising. No less so is the fact that he sets the horned helmet on the arm of the couch and begins fiddling with the horns.

Does he have some kind of enchantment on his helmet? Aaravos decides he will need to take the helmet to check. Later.

"An interesting piece of headgear," Aaravos comments.

Loki smirks, briefly thinking of the jibes (playful and… less so) around his helmet from years long gone. He glances at the elf's horns. "It occurs to me that common rules of etiquette may not apply in another world. In mine, removing a helmet is a sign of respect, but… well I cannot very well ask you to remove your horns. I hope you don't find the removal of mine unsightly."

Aaravos touches his horns briefly. "No, you appear to be a human. I know what those look like, and I prefer them hornless."

A human? Is that what he thinks he is? "You think-" Loki sighs, realizing a little late by his standards that Asgardians do, in fact, look a lot like midgardians. He rolls his eyes. "An unfortunate resemblance, but I am not human."

Yes he knows that he is supplying information about himself, but by the Norns he will not be compared to those weak mortals.

Aaravos arches an eyebrow. "No?" Then what is Loki? "Are you, perhaps, a dragon? Finally come to tell me my sentence is up?" He realizes too late what words he is saying, but at least manages to inject some sarcasm and punctuate it with another sarcastic eyebrow.

With that one question, Loki begins to realize where he is. Oh, that is clever, and if Odin had been just a little wiser and a little more connected to the multiverse, Loki probably would have found himself in a similar situation many years ago.

Oh… if this is a prison… then that means that he does not simply have to wait for his seidr to recover enough to find his way back to his dimension… he will have to find some way to jailbreak. After all, it is much easier to enter a prison than it is to leave it.

"I am sure you know as much that I am not, unfortunately." Loki does his best to inconspicuously feel out the boundaries of this realm with his magic, knowing he probably should have attempted so sooner. The limits of this dimension seem to be about the dimensions of a small mansion. "Is there anyone else here with you?" he asks.

Aaravos hesitates barely a fraction of an instant, looking at his hands to conceal the tension in his jaw. "No. There is nobody."

By the Norns… no one? No one at all? Even Asgard was not so cruel. Even Thanos never left Loki in total isolation. "What about the point of connection to your world? There must be some sort of juncture. Anyone who would imprison a person like this would want a way to keep an eye on them anyway."

Should Aaravos tell him about the mirror?

"There is…" He reconsiders. "Nothing that I was told of." No, he had to discover the mirror's magic for himself.

There have been very few moments in which Loki experienced rage. The most notable: when his mind was tortured and warped by the mind stone, and when his mother died… and he was not there to protect her.

But what kind of eternal solitary sentence is this? And now for sheer happenstance to condemn Loki to it as well? Is there no justice, here or in any corner of the multiverse?

Loki huffs, "I refuse to believe that. There has to be some sort of connection to a larger realm." He stands and begins pacing. "If the people who placed you here severed the connection, then we will have to be free floating through the void between worlds. If that is the case, then sooner or later, we will meet another juncture, but it will be short. We will have to be prepared for that so we can jump as soon as the opportunity presents itself, and I cannot stay in a constant meditative state to observe the edges. Perhaps an alert system of some sort? I might have an enchantment I can modify."

Void between worlds? Then there are other worlds beyond Xadia!

But there will be no world-jumping, unless somehow Aaravos or Loki can break the mirror's connection. Should he tell Loki, or let him retain the small mercy of hope awhile longer?

Hm. Loki seems intelligent. He's already come up with a plan for escape based on the small amount of knowledge Aaravos has given him. Should Aaravos tell him more, perhaps he could finally be free of this place.

He sighs, leaning back. "There… is a connection. A tenuous one, to be sure, but it is there. I am too much of a danger to be left unsupervised." He rolls his eyes as far back as they will go, until no color at all is visible. "My jailer ensured he would always have a way to spy on me, to be sure I could never threaten his reign again."

Loki pauses in his musings with the new information, something directly contradicting what he was told just moments before. This, however, he is more certain, was the truth.

"That was a clever turn of phrase earlier, otherwise I might have caught the falsehood. I always know when someone is lying to me, so I suggest refraining in the future. Like it or not, it appears you and I are in this predicament together, and I plan to get us out."

"I do not lie," Aaravos protests, sitting up and folding his arms indignantly. "I never lie." He pauses. "I simply… did not tell the full truth. But I was never told of the connection; I learned of it on my own."

Then the second part of Loki's statement sinks in. "How, precisely, can you know that?" He is clearly no Moonshadow mage. He never answered Aaravos's query about what he is; perhaps what he is gives him this ability. But Aaravos has never heard of a being, aside from a caladrius, with the inborn ability to detect lies.

A more direct statement that time… and, even more surprisingly, also not a falsehood. Never lying? How did he cope?

"I do not know, precisely, I never really do, but I always find a way."

Loki enjoys the frustrated look on the elf's face. It suits him, and Loki has always loved making others just a little frustrated. "So, are you going to work with me? Tell me where this connection is?"

Strange. Is the man perhaps a caladrius bird in a human shape?

Aaravos dismisses the thought as quickly as it comes. No, shape-changing is not among a caladrius's powers, and even if it were, they are simply birds. No bird could mimic the intellect of a human, let alone one as clearly intelligent as Loki.

He quells his anger at being talked down to. Work with Loki? Hah. He should be so honored.

Still, Aaravos has always been good at the long game, and he smooths his features into a smile. "Oh, yes. It is in my library." He raises one languid hand and points through the doorway, back to the room they came from, and smirks at Loki's annoyance.

The elf directs Loki to an empty frame. It has strange runes along the edges, ones that Loki's allspeak does not seem to wish to translate. Loki reaches to the inside of the frame, tapping the wall behind it experimentally. It certainly does not feel any different from the rest of the realm at first glance. He narrows his eyes at the elf, was this another trick? He said it was in the library, but he did not say it was this frame specifically, only guided him to it.

Aaravos's mouth twitches under Loki's glare. "Yes, this was once a mirror, mere seconds before you arrived. I could on occasion see my world through it, but what glimpses I got were-" he waves his hand dismissively, recalling Avizandum's unchanging cave- "unimportant."

Ah… well, such disturbances, like Loki's crash landing, especially to such a small bubble dimension… might weaken a connection or… or maybe even sever it. Loki does his best to keep his expression neutral, hoping that he will not have to tell his new acquaintance that he is the reason he might never go home again.

No… the vanishing of the glass is just a weakened connection, right? If Loki puts enough effort into it, surely he can grasp at the last threads, maybe even pull them back to the mainland, in a sense.

Because if they really are free floating… who knows how long it will be before either of them can leave? By the despair on the elf's face earlier… Loki guesses it had already been far too long for him.

He presses both hands on either side of the mirror, clinging to the vestiges of magic there. It is so different from the energies of his world, and yet… in some ways similar. Power locked in patterns, like any other natural force. If he had to put it simply, this felt more circular and spiral, while he was more used to something more… cubic.

Norns this is taking a lot of energy. Any interdimensional travel takes a toll, but Loki refuses to give in so easily, not when he can almost feel the fringes of what he's looking for.

His lungs tighten as if gasping for air, but he is Asgardian, he can last a little longer. But it is not lack of air that is the problem, he is breathing fine.

Come on, almost there. Sweat tickles his brow. He knows that if there were nothing on the other side, he would have hit a wall by now, which means there must be something to grasp! If he can only hold out a little longer.

"DAMMIT!" Loki bellows, as his seidr crumbles around him, taking his legs with him and falling to the ground.

Aaravos watches as Loki grips the mirror frame, clutching it so tightly both hands turn white- then he collapses.

Aaravos drops to his own knees next to Loki, albeit far more gracefully. "And was that part of your master plan, Loki of Asgard?"

He should not have done that. Loki takes in a few gasping breaths before speaking, and hating the way his voice trembles ever so slightly. "Well, you might be pleased to know that the connection was not severed entirely with the loss of the glass. But after the energy I expended getting here in the first place, I will need more time to get through to the other side."

Aaravos frowns slightly as Loki begins speaking, voice trembling. Did he go too far with that jab?

Not severed entirely? Well, this is good news and bad news. On the one hand, he at least has a chance of seeing his home again. On the other, he will not be able to reach another world while his prison is still connected to Xadia, and another world might be more welcoming.

"Take all the time you need," he says magnanimously, standing. "I've waited centuries for my freedom, what are a few days more?"

Loki flinches slightly at the sudden movement that is the elf standing. He hopes it was small enough to go unnoticed, but he has always been a bit more… jumpy whenever he is physically weak. Loki's eyelids droop, but he keeps them open. He cannot close them yet, not while his mind is still so active. He focuses on the lines in his hands, on the clean evenness of his fingernails, on the pale scars that decorate his arms from battles past.

Now for the task of standing. Always easier when someone is watching, of course, because he cannot afford to look weak. He jumps to his feet, overcompensating, and pays for it by swaying a little too obviously once upright.

"You are exhausted," Aaravos notes, keeping his voice free of any emotion. "Do you require sleep, or do you refresh yourself in another manner?" He cannot think of a creature that does not need sleep, but he enjoys sarcasm too much to relinquish it simply because Loki is tired.

"Unfortunately, I need sleep like anyone else… but not yet." How can he fall asleep here? In a place he does not know in the presence of someone who will not even tell him his name?

But what is the alternative? Wait until he passes out from exhaustion and leave himself even more vulnerable by not being prepared for it?

Loki also knows he tends to have night terrors, and if he wakes up screaming the name of a certain mad titan, then that is even more information the elf could use against him later on.

None of the options are looking good.

Not yet? But Loki is clearly exhausted.

Ah. He does not trust Aaravos. Aaravos cannot blame him, he is quite untrustworthy. He has nothing to gain from harming Loki while the other man is helping him- now, if he can only convince Loki that is all the danger he presents.

He would not harm me when he needs me. I've managed to convince him I'm of some use, right? So he will not murder me in my sleep.

Yes, the murdering part is unlikely, but the mind is far more vulnerable in sleep, and Loki has no understanding of the kind of powers, if any, this person has. At the very least, he was deemed dangerous enough to be completely isolated from his world. That would suggest some serious power.

And Loki is not willing to let his guard down without a fight. Even so, Loki can feel another sway in his step, another blink that lasts a little longer than normal.

"I will not harm you while you sleep, Loki of Asgard," Aaravos says seriously. "I promise you this: so long as you and I are working together, you are safe from me."

He truly means it. It would not do to alienate his one ally. Nor would Loki be of any use sleep-deprived and on guard every second. No, he must sleep, and that he cannot do if he cannot trust Aaravos- to some extent at least.

Aaravos remembers he has still not given Loki his name. Perhaps this is part of why he is so on edge. Likely. Still, Aaravos prefers not to give information that has not been requested, particularly not names, and he's already given away too much today.

Loki leans on a nearby chair for support. "No, I do not need sleep yet… but would you happen to have a quiet, isolated space where I could meditate?"

The elf did not know anything about Loki, about Frost Giants or Asgardians… for all he knew this could be something he did instead of sleeping. If he had enough energy, he could even cast an illusion to run while he sleeps to make it appear as if he is sitting up.

Aaravos rolls his eyes. "Trust issues, I see. Very well. Most of my prison is filled with books, but you may meditate in my garden if you would like."

Clearly this elf is more astute than Loki gave him credit for. A wide open space like a garden would not do either. Perhaps in other circumstances Loki would be more patient, more willing to bluff his way through this, but it had been so long since he used up this much energy, this much magic. The last time he can really remember was when he was young, on the cusp of manhood. His mother chided him lovingly and reminded him to take care of himself, to push the edges of his limits without crossing them.

Unfamiliar world, unfamiliar boundaries.

With a heavy sigh, Loki finally admits, "Fine, I need to sleep. I'm about to collapse. Do you have a spare bed or couch where I can rest?"

Aaravos freezes with realization. The couch he shared with Loki earlier is much too short and narrow to sleep on. He does not have another. And there is no need for two beds in a prison meant for one elf.

"N-no." He curses himself for losing his composure, even for an instant. "I am only one elf. I-I can offer you my bed, if you would like." Although then, Loki would know where his bedroom is, his most personal space. Where he is at his most vulnerable- and Loki has not promised safety.

So… he's stuck here indefinitely…with this strange elf... and there is only one bed.

That's about on track for his luck. He could almost laugh. "I would protest out of some sort of propriety, but I am not in the position at the moment. Thank you."

"You are welcome," Aaravos says stiffly, turning. "Follow me, unless you cannot walk up two flights of stairs."

"I think I can manage," Loki snarks in return. Reluctantly, he adds. "I hope you know I mean you no harm as well, especially since you are being so kind as to share your bed."

It is only fair to express as much, right? It does not mean that this first true act of kindness that Loki has experienced in years makes him feel a little funny inside. No. Not at all. He's just being civil so he can leave as soon as possible with as few complications as possible.

"Did you intend to phrase it that particular way?" Aaravos tosses over his shoulder, starting up the first flight. "I assure you, we will not be sharing. I draw energy from the stars, and need little rest when I have their light."

There are no stars, and no starlight, in this realm, but Loki does not need to know that. Aaravos can well go days without sleeping even without the stars; he slept little during his first year or so imprisoned.

Loki chuckles at his unintentional innuendo, and says, "Trust me, if I ever do intend it that way, you will know."

In the back of his mind, he contemplates what drawing energy from the stars entailed, and how one could access starlight in such a compressed world. After all, one would need millions upon millions of lightyears of space to have even a few stars. This world definitely did not have that. Did "stars" mean something different here?

Aaravos lets his smirk grow, as Loki cannot see it when Aaravos is not facing him. "Perhaps." He takes the second flight two steps at a time, reaching the top quickly. He carefully wipes expression from his face and turns. "Here." He taps the first door, and it swings open.

Loki takes a moment to observe the room, assessing it for weaknesses out of habit. Given what he knows about the prison, it seems unlikely he will have to defend himself against anyone but Aaravos, who has already promised his safety. Still, if Loki could land here, who else could potentially follow him?

A stained glass window sits on the right side of the room, letting in a small amount of light. The bed at least is not a prison cot, just large enough for two people and draped in midnight blue sheets. He resists the urge to collapse on sight.

One might think that Loki expected such accommodations, having once been a prince, but in the years since he left Asgard, he came to see any horizontal surface less hard than stone to be a welcome bed. "Thank you, I really do appreciate this."

"You are welcome," Aaravos says. It comes out sounding almost like a question. He turns to leave his room. "Sleep as long as you need to. I will attempt to fix the mirror." As he leaves, he discreetly draws the runes on the door that will allow him to hear if Loki tries anything.

Loki sits on the bed, beginning to remove some of the metal armor pieces. "It might be better if we wait to combine our powers. Of course, this is your… home, so do what you like, but I would not recommend trying to rebuild a connection between two worlds on one's own." He sets the gauntlets neatly beside each other on a nearby table, trying not to outwardly cringe at the lowering of his defenses.

"You did," Aaravos points out, lingering by the door since Loki is still talking.

"Yes, and look at where that got me. I haven't drained myself like that in a few hundred years."

A few hundred years? Not a human. "If you'll forgive me asking, how old are you?"

Time flies, and Loki is not completely certain how long it has been since he left Asgard last. He had recently reached his first millennium shortly before the… incident. "I haven't kept track really for a few years… but at least a thousand. Though given I do not know how long your years are in your world, that may be a meaningless number."

"Our years are one circuit of the earth around the sun." Aaravos smirks. "Yours?"

Loki laughs lightly. "You misunderstand. I have set foot on worlds that can circle their suns in a matter of hours. Very unpleasant heat unless you're inside one of the oases they built for off-world visitors."

Aaravos's right eyebrow shoots up. "Hours? Truly?"

He pretends not to enjoy the sound of another's laughter.

"My world takes approximately three hundred and sixty days to circle the sun," he says. "Though…. I am unsure exactly how long I have been here." Three centuries, he thinks, though after the first few years time began to blur. It could have been more.

Loki smiles. When was the last time anyone showed interest in his tales? "Oh, the stories I could tell you. When we get out of here I shall have to show you some of these places. You said you received power from the stars, but have you ever had the pleasure of seeing one up close? Truly an unparalleled sight."

"As far as your years, sounds similar to that of Asgard. So I suppose my age would be the same in your years." He turns his head to the elf, doubting his question will be answered but asking nonetheless. "And what of your age? You have the look of someone that has seen many centuries."

Aaravos shrugs. "At least three millennia. I stopped keeping track after about twenty-one hundred."

Does it really show? Or is it only that Loki is also older than any human could be, that he can tell? Aaravos is better at estimating ages than humans tend to be.

Loki smirks at the fact he guessed correctly. Perhaps the fatigue is making him less guarded with his speech. Perhaps it is the small kindnesses tempting him to respond in kind with some sort of display of trust. Besides, he is not giving the elf any advantage that many have not had in the past. Asgardians are known throughout the galaxy, so this elf knowing as much would not change too much.

"That is about middle age for my kind."

And maybe there is something… comforting… in meeting someone else like him in that respect outside the Asgardians that shunned him.

Aaravos laughs. "For my kind, I think I am still quite young. Or perhaps I am quite old. I've never known another of my kind that died."

Perhaps the other Startouch elves left Xadia to die. Aaravos was one of the younger elves then. But he doubts this.

"You still have not told me what your kind is, Loki of Asgard."

Loki's smile falls. He had not even noticed he had one until it fell. "If you'll forgive me, I really must get some rest. I need to be at full strength to help you after all." He smiles again, but not a genuine one this time: a signal to drop the topic.

Aaravos's light heart drops. "Yes. Of course." He gives a stiff bow, checking the runes, and spins on his heel to leave. "Sleep well."

He is not hoping Loki will change his mind.

Loki falls on the pillows as soon as the door shuts behind Aaravos, muscles finally relaxing perhaps against his better judgment. By the Norns he is so tired. It does not take him long to fall asleep, something he has not experienced in a long time.

Loki stands in front of the empty frame. He pounds on the wall again and again until his knuckles bleed, and still nothing changes.

"Still fighting are you? The Great Thanos chose well." Loki's blood runs cold, but he does not turn to the voice, does not give him the satisfaction of seeing the blood run out of his face. The metal of the mirror frame bends with an unholy shriek, twisting and cracking to grip around Loki's throat and drag him through the dark halls.

He's dangling over an endless abyss. He clings to the twisted metal still wrapped around his throat, his only purchase against an endless drop. He looks up, ready to beg Maw for mercy, but it is not Maw standing above him.

"Father! Please!" Loki's voice rasps, he can barely speak. "Please."

Odin scowls at him. "No, Loki."

And Loki falls. There's a flash of blue and his veins are on fire, and all the while he is still falling. So angry, so much pain. He's never known such single minded fury, and he clings to it as if it is a ledge in this chasm.

He looks to his hand. He's holding a sceptre with a blue stone, and he's not sure how he got here. He's surrounded by bloodied bodies, and a large calloused hand rests on his shoulder. "Yes, you will do well."

Please make it stop. Please make it stop. Everything is blue, bright blinding blue. It hurts, everything hurts.

Aaravos stalks down the stairs, making a sharp left at the bottom of the first flight to go to his 'comfort library.'

And his ears twitch.

His spell is picking something up. He's not quite sure what the sound is- then it comes again. A whimper of fear.

He hesitates, then firmly takes another step. If Loki is having nightmares and can't deal with them, that is his problem, not Aaravos's.

Loki cries out again.

Aaravos turns, telling himself it's because Loki needs to get a good night's sleep to fix the mirror, and nightmares are not a good night's sleep.

No. He can handle his own nightmares.

"Please!" Loki's voice is quiet, barely there but full of fear. "Please."

Aaravos raises his hand to the library door, and notices that his fingers are curled in on each other so tightly he can barely feel them.

"Fine," he snaps to the door. "Fine. I'll go help him. Happy?"

Predictably, the door does not respond.

Aaravos turns back, mumbling, "Can't read now anyway."

He rolls his eyes and sighs several times on the way up the stairs, until he pushes open his door to see Loki shaking and sobbing, eyes shut tight.

What can he have in his past to sleep like this? There is someone Aaravos hates now, and Loki is going to tell him who. Aaravos presses one fingernail into his palm to regain control of his emotions, then crosses to the bed and shakes Loki's shoulder gently.

"Wake up," he instructs. When Loki doesn't at first, he sits down next to him and shakes a little harder.

Loki's eyes open, unsure of where he is. For a moment all he knows is that someone is sitting over him, and his trembling arms react before his conscious mind can. His magic fizzles, looking for the pocket dimension where he keeps his knives, but instead all that happens is he throws sparks at the intruder. The shock of not having his daggers sends him into a temporary panic. Frost starts to form on his fingers, and he focuses on the sensation of the ice, cold enough to leave mist falling from his hands.

He realizes it is the elf, not anyone that means him harm, though some part of his brain does not quite understand that. He looks around, trying to align his mind with his real surroundings. The stillness and elegance of the bedroom is surreal, his nerves still alight with anxiety and insisting that he is somewhere more dangerous.

Sparks come flying at his face, and Aaravos jerks back instinctively before taking control of his reaction. He notices mist around Loki's hands, obscuring them, and his guard goes up. Has Loki somehow gotten hold of a weapon?

"Calm yourself," he says once he knows he can manage to sound bored. "I do not intend you harm."

Someone does, or did, his mind reminds him, and that someone will pay.

Loki's hands begin to return to a normal temperature. He runs a hand through his hair, the residual coolness soothing him. "Mmmy apologies." The first word sticks in his mouth a moment, before he can form the phrase properly.

Aaravos's eyebrows draw together. "Apologies? What do you have to apologize for?"

Loki blinks, consciousness still taking a second longer to process. "I… I must have caused a disturbance. That… that is why… that is why you are here, yes? And… I tried… well, unsuccessfully… but I… I tried to summon my, my dagger… I lashed out… I was not, I did not intend to."

It unsettles Aaravos to hear Loki stammering- and to realize he's already gotten so used to the man's composed manner that anything else is strange.

"It is not your fault," he says diplomatically. "Your sleep was… disturbed. You did as any would have done." He pauses, then adds, "And it was no disturbance to me. I planned to come back up soon anyway."

In the grand scheme of events, it was no disturbance, and he did plan to come back up tomorrow. Which was soon, simply not as soon as he wished Loki to believe.

Loki draws in a shaky breath. This response is unexpected, but not unwelcome. Still, he remembers well that green-skinned woman Thanos sent to him between torments. She was kinder than most on that ship… and that was all to weaken him. He cannot trust kindness. He almost forgot.

Loki sits up properly and claps his hands. "Well, I doubt I can return to sleep at present. We may return to work on the mirror, if you like."

Remind him you can be of use.

Aaravos considers this, then shakes his head. "I am a mage too, remember. I know the effort it takes to cast magic, and I suspect yours takes more of a toll than mine. The last time I was as weakened by a spell as you were, I slept for sixteen hours straight." He stares Loki down. "You will sleep, or I will cast a spell on you to make you sleep."

Cast a spell? Force him into unconsciousness? Loki glares daggers at the elf, his hands growing cold again. If he cannot summon his knives, then he will have to resort to Jotunheim magic. "I'd like to see you try," he snarls.

Startled by Loki's- rather extreme, he thinks- reaction, Aaravos pulls back, then lifts his chin. "It would not be hard. A simple Star spell for dreamless sleep. It would not last long, almost certainly not as long as you need."

Loki's rage is somewhat mollified by the truth in the elf's words, and he hates that a dreamless sleep is so tempting. "And I am supposed to trust you? Trust you to use magic on me, on my mind? What kind of fool do you take me for?"

Ah, so that is the problem. Of course Loki does not trust Aaravos yet.

He sighs. "I… apologize. Of course you are not a fool. I have been alone too long; I've forgotten how to speak to another person. No, you have no reason to trust me at the moment, but I hope you will. You need to sleep, and I can help you do so."

Again, there is truth in his words; Loki can detect no lies. Even the elf's voice seems… softer somehow, more vulnerable.

It could still be a trick, he thinks, to appear sympathetic…

But Loki tries not to dwell too much on the dreams and their lingering effects.

"Has anyone else been here before? Besides you? How long have you been alone?"

Aaravos glances down quickly, face darkening. "Three hundred years. It has been more than three hundred years since I spoke to anyone besides my jailer, and even the last time I spoke to him must have been half a century ago at least." His heart rate quickens as he says the words. He's never stated the duration of his imprisonment aloud before, even to himself.

Three centuries since a sympathetic voice. Loki supposes that can make anyone a little blunt, and perhaps a little desperate, which might explain the elf's insistence that Loki be at peak health.

He remembers the cells on Asgard, and how quickly he fell into total despair when his one visitor was gone forever, certain that would leave him in isolation. There's a strange pang of sympathy in his chest for this near stranger, and Loki does not bother to suppress it. He has no other options.

With a heavy sigh, not meeting the elf's eyes, Loki nods. "Go ahead then."

Feeling strangely reluctant, Aaravos stands and slowly begins drawing the rune for dreamless sleep. He pauses as he finishes. "...Are you sure?"

Loki is surprised by the question, and he realizes his heart rate picked up in anticipation of the spell. He wonders if the elf's senses are keen enough to pick up on such things. "I wasn't, but the very fact that you asked that makes me so."

That small display of concern for Loki's comfort convinces him that he made the right choice. Anyone looking to manipulate him would go ahead the moment he surrendered.

He… he was not sure, but Aaravos's question changed this? Aaravos is… touched might be the right word. He's touched that his words mean so much to Loki.

Shaking off his melancholy, he nods. "It will take a minute or so to take effect. Nec somniare." He uses one finger to nudge the rune towards Loki, and it dissolves into a shower of glitter over him.

Loki still flinches as the sparkling light washes over him. He does not feel sleepy just yet, but more relaxed at least. His mind combats with the physical sensation, still wary, but Loki tries to show some measure of appreciation in a nod and a smile. Perhaps he will finally get a good night's rest. He's not sure he can remember what that feels like.

He lays back on the pillows, the fog of sleep slowly creeping in. It must be working quickly since he was still so exhausted from his poor excuse of a rest.

The elf moves to leave, but Loki, in a final act of consciousness, grabs his hand lightly, careful not to appear aggressive with the act. "Will you please tell me your name?"

Aaravos's breath catches when Loki grabs his hand, electricity dancing across his skin at the first physical contact with another being he's felt in centuries.

He takes several seconds to register Loki's question, but when he finally realizes what he's said the answer falls from his lips unbidden.

"Aaravos."

Loki's eyes can no longer stay open, so he smiles with them closed. "Aaravos," he murmurs, as if testing the feel of the name on his tongue. "It's a pretty name."

And then he falls into the embrace of sleep, much gentler and more welcoming than before.

Aaravos stands frozen until Loki's hand has slipped from his grasp and fallen onto the bedcovers. Only then does he shake his head sharply and slip out the door, heart still dancing with the sound of his name on Loki's lips.

Spell notes: "Nec Somniare" doesn't actually mean anything in Latin, but "nec somnium somniare" means "no dream sleep."

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