12: Never Make a Master Jotun Sorceress Angry by Suggesting You Recreate Her Trauma

Returning to his astral form, Aaravos directs his caterpillar to an elf's shoulder, casting a spell as the bug bites them. A moment later, he has not just his projection, but a solid body. And he has the Sun Scepter.

He laughs, lifting the scepter. "Your arrogance is so predictable."

Two elves rush at him, and he lifts the scepter, using it to draw a swirling Sun rune that knocks the elves back. Did they really think they had a hope of doing more than stalling him?

Ever since Aaravos's vision faded again, Loki has been reading about the star primal. It is far more interesting to her than the sky primal, especially since it allows more of a connection to Aaravos rather than asking that she let go of her attachment to him. Even with Aaravos's clarification on the philosophy, she is not ready to confront those emotions. They are far too jumbled and tangled for her to navigate without more frustration than progress.

Loki is startled, however, when Aaravos stands and moves. She thinks for a moment that he has regained his sight and hearing again, but his eyes are still clouded over. Does he need something? Loki wonders, Food perhaps?

Aaravos laughs, the sound not escaping his mouth, but the breathing motion of his chest and the smile on his face give it away. He lifts his hands as if holding something, a staff or scepter perhaps. The posture and the manic grin is a familiar sight, a distressing one.

Loki does not like this, does not like seeing what she might have looked like those years ago from the outside. It was bad enough watching helplessly from within.

He looks at the queen, half laughing as he says, "You allowed my vessel to walk right into your court, and then you brought him directly to the source of all your power!" He laughs again. There is something so amusing about this… the new queen is just like Aditi. Oh, the everpresent Sunfire arrogance. So infuriating, yet sometimes, so convenient.

He raises a hand to the little caterpillar on his shoulder– heh, his voice is on his shoulder. "Oh, the irony is wonderful," he says, speaking of both the queen's mistake and the joke only he understands.

He gives the queen a dark grin, stalking over to her. "You are just like your grandmother." So small, compared to him, so weak, yet so full of bravado. As if glaring and narrowed eyes could really do anything.

Loki would like to look away, what with the unpleasant memories resurfacing, but she cannot. Aaravos says something, but she cannot make out more than a few words. "Power" is one of them, clearly emphasized.

"Is that what you want, Aaravos? Power?" Loki asks aloud. "Do you not have enough?" She shudders. "All it means is the ability to keep the weak in line. Is that what you plan to do?"

Loki shakes her head. "No, I know you. I know that what you really want is freedom. I hope that your smile means that things are going according to plan but… I do not like this look on you, Aaravos. It is far too familiar in many ways."

The queen backs away as he approaches, nearly stepping off the edge of the cliff they are on. Hm, that wasn't there last time Aaravos was in Lux Aurea, something must have changed.

He slides the scepter behind the queen, using it to pull her closer to him. She is like Aditi in too many ways for his liking. "Would you like to know the truth of her fate?"

The queen does not answer, but Aaravos smiles and leans down anyway. "You'll never know," he whispers, chuckling as he pulls back. His hand cups her chin for a moment more as he mentally casts the sun spell that will condemn her.

He turns away as she dissolves, surprised by how little he enjoys her scream. It is too much like Loki's nightmares.

Shaken, he stands facing the cliff as the mage approaches. He pulls a smile onto his face to present him with the scepter, sending his caterpillar back to the mage's shoulder and discarding the Sunfire's body. He no longer needs it, and now, it will only be a hindrance.

Aaravos steps forward, forcing Loki backward. He leans forward as if whispering in someone's ear before making a flicking motion with his hand, all with a sadistic smile on his face. He's hurting people, Loki realizes. She would have to be blind to not recognize the look of a victorious warrior. Aaravos spins on his heel, walking back from where he came where he bows, as if handing off something.

Loki scowls. "When you get back, Aaravos, you better have a damn good explanation for what you're doing."

Or maybe she should not bring it up. She may not have the strength to face her old demons twice in one day.

Aaravos sits back where he started, and Loki picks up the book to sit next to him, only to stand again and realize that she cannot be in the same room with Aaravos right now. She can start on dinner.

Aaravos does not need to push very hard to convince the mage to ride through the night after changing his army to fire-warriors. The mage's son left, and Aaravos does not doubt he has gone to warn Xadia.

I should have found a way to kill him before he could, he thinks angrily. If the boy warns the dragons, and they defeat the mage and his army before Aaravos can get to the dragon prince… no, he will figure out another way, if that happens. He has to.

A few hours before dawn, the mage calls a halt. He must sleep, even if the fire soldiers do not need to. Aaravos does not object, though he wants to continue, to attack before the dragon queen knows what has happened.

Instead, he only says, "We continue at dawn."

The mage nods, and lies down to sleep.

Aaravos opens his eyes in his sitting room. He has to tell Loki about this, about his plan, so she will know he will not leave her alone for long.

As Loki chops at the vegetables with more force than required, she wonders why Aaravos's actions bother her so much. She was raised in a culture of warriors, trained to fight since childhood. The image of Aaravos wielding some staff-like weapon should not shake her. She has seen far worse.

There lies the problem. Loki does not want to be reminded of Asgard, of New York, of Thanos. She remembers bowing as she accepted the scepter with the mind stone, a reversal of Aaravos handing off whatever was in his possession. Aaravos has been such a sanctuary for Loki, so different from everything she has known in life. To be able to draw even the smallest comparisons to her nightmares is… disturbing.

Perhaps it is for the best that Aaravos is also a warrior. Loki has never had the stomach for it, and even less so now, only fighting if she is in direct danger. After all, someone has to do the fighting if Loki is so committed to cowardice.

But does it have to be the person I lo-

Loki's thoughts are interrupted when she splits the chopping tray in half.

Aaravos stands, heading out of the sitting room. "Loki?" he calls, loudly enough she should be able to hear, wherever she is. "We need to talk."

Loki winces as she hears Aaravos's voice calling for her, cringing especially hard at those four dreadful words. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she calls back, "In the kitchen, Sparkles!"

She dumps the chopped vegetables into the pot and begins mending the tray with magic, watching as the fibers rebind. She focuses on her task in an effort to soothe herself. It only half works.

Kitchen. Yes, that makes sense. Focusing again on his breathing, Aaravos enters the kitchen. "Loki–"

She is standing by a pot, looking intently at a chopping tray. Why?

"...is everything alright?"

Loki glances up, concentration broken, and sighs at the half mended tray. "Yes, I just… I broke this and was mending it with magic." She sets it down on the counter, gripping it tight enough for her knuckles to turn white. "What is it we need to talk about?" Loki asks, tension bleeding into her tone.

Aaravos shifts from one foot to the other. "I… I wish to tell you my plan, before it goes into effect this time." More into effect. He moves closer, reaching out to put his hand on Loki's. "I realize I have not been the best at communicating my plans. It is a difficult habit to break, but you deserve better."

Loki squeezes Aaravos's hand, still avoiding looking at his face. "I appreciate it, truly. What are the next steps?"

Aaravos's free hand opens and closes, remembering the weight of the sun scepter. "With Avizandum gone, Xadia is ruled by his mate, Queen Zubeia. As such, she is the only one who can open the mirror prison." He pauses, considering his next words. He knows his moral code is somewhat questionable by most standards, and he does not want Loki to think less of him for it.

"Zubeia always had a softer heart than Avizandum. I spoke to her a few times. She was sympathetic to some of my ideas– though not enough to speak for me when I was imprisoned." Aaravos takes a breath, pulling his mind back to his original topic. "I doubt she will be too keen to free you simply because I ask it of her, so I am preparing a backup plan. The mage is going to capture Zubeia's son, and when I am free I will… negotiate with her." He frowns briefly. "I do not trust that fool mage to handle things properly."

Loki's mind latches on the words "capture Zubeia's son."

When she speaks, her voice shakes. "How old is her son?"

"I… am unsure," Aaravos says warily. "How much does it matter?"

Loki squeezes Aaravos's hand even tighter, past the point of comfort and more a signal of how serious she is about this. "Give me your best estimate."

Aaravos winces, but does not try to pull his hand from Loki's. "Age since hatching, or human equivalent?"

"Both. Now."

Now Aaravos tries to pull away, but Loki's grip is strong. "A– a month or so, I think, the equivalent of a human child of around… three? four?"

A baby, then. A child. A small creature too young to defend himself, possibly lacking the ability to understand what is going on, that he is being used as a hostage for negotiations between those at war. Loki relinquishes her grip on Aaravos's hand, nearly shaking with the sheer fury welling up within her. As if earlier today was not bad enough.

Slowly, Loki turns to face Aaravos, who only has a look of mild confusion on his face. Her magic boils in her veins, rising up to protect her. Perhaps at any other time, she would use illusions, she would run or hide, but not now. No, this is not just pain, this is wrath.

"What kind of cowardly worm hides behind a child, Aaravos? Uses a defenseless baby for their own negotiations? I have never been so insulted, that you would do this on my behalf! How could you even suggest such a despicable action, to me especially!

"Oh, wait, you were not suggesting this, you were not asking for my approval. No, when have you done anything besides what is best for you and you alone, Aaravos? Not a single iota of consideration for the other people that suffer for your choices!"

Loki only half intends for her magic to fly so out of control. There is only so much one can do to hold such power at bay at such an emotional moment. Frost spreads out from her feet, crawling across the floor so fast that in a moment the room is cold enough to see Aaravos's breath. The ice entraps Aaravos's feet to the floor, creeping slowly up his legs. "Do you see what happens to the children that live with that trauma?" Loki spits the words inches from Aaravos's face. "And are you willing to make an enemy out of me, Aaravos?"

Aaravos's confusion gives way to fear as Loki shouts.

He tries to back away, but his feet will not move. Looking down, he sees the ice holding his feet to the floor and spreading all across the room. He's trapped, and cold, oh so cold.

He jerks at his feet, trying desperately to wrench them from the ice. And now Loki is so close, and so angry.

"No," he whispers, then forces his voice louder, "no, NO! I don't, I do not want this. I, I am sorry, Loki, I am, I–" He tries again to wrench his feet from the ice, wanting only to escape.

"I will find another way, then!" he blurts out, droplets freezing on his cheeks. "I, I can, I will–"

He does not know what other way he could find, but he has to try.

If not for the severe chill in the room that freezes Loki's tears to her face, she might not notice that she is crying. At Aaravos's words which border on panicked, Loki steps back. Looking down, she sees that her skin is blue, and she forces herself back into Aesir form. Most of the ice begins to vaporize into mist, but there is still a persistent bite to the air. She is still angry, furious even, especially with herself. Now he sees the monster that I am.

"I cannot believe I was…" she mutters, trailing off before she reveals too much. I cannot believe I was falling for you.

Loki shakes her head. "See that you do find another way." Then, she grabs the large wooden spoon from the counter and thrusts it into his hands with a shove. "And while you're at it, make your own damn dinner."

She storms out of the room, looking for the farthest area she can reach in the prison. Her heart seems to shatter as she does, and it brings a defeated chuckle to the surface. She did not know there were enough intact parts of her left to break.

Aaravos holds the wooden spoon numbly, staring at the doorway long after Loki has gone.

"But I can't cook," he says, voice cracking. He sinks to the floor, still clutching the spoon. "I can't cook," he repeats.

He needs. He needs something. He needs to think, to figure out another way. A way to convince Zubeia to free Loki that does not involve the baby dragon. Maybe a disguise. Maybe that would work. Or. He isn't sure.

He looks at the wooden spoon again, but dinner feels like too much effort to go through for just himself.

But, Loki has been making him dinner so often. He should make her dinner in return. Or, at least he should try.

He forces himself to stand and look at the pot. There are vegetables already in it, and water, although now it is a frozen mass. He can fix this. He uses a sun rune on the pot, thawing it rapidly. Do vegetables need to cook slowly? He thinks they need to cook slowly. Maybe?

He heats the pot as quickly as he thinks he can, stirring continually. Perhaps he can appeal to Zubeia's softer heart, pointing out Loki's innocence of all the crimes Aaravos was imprisoned for.

Another thought comes to him: he could swear fealty, bind himself to the Dragon Throne. He does not care for this idea at all, not with Xadia's binding magics, but would he? For Loki?

He hears a bubbling noise, and looks down. The soup is bubbling away happily, looking almost too hot. He finds a spoon to taste. It is not so good as Loki's soup, but it is not bad. Aaravos fills two bowls, adds a spoon to each, and goes to look for Loki.

Loki flies from room to room, but she is so familiar with this place now that it feels so small. Eventually she bursts out into the courtyard garden. The lack of a roof makes the space feel marginally less oppressive, but it is still not enough. Loki transforms into a crow, flapping her wings to ascend directly into the sky above. She makes it about as far as fifteen feet before she reaches a barrier, smacking her beak into it and falling to the ground with a painful thunk.

She transforms back into Aesir, limbs aching from the fragile form. Loki is tempted to grow wings again, give it another shot. She leaps up, heart pounding. She needs to get out of here. She needs a way out. She cannot be trapped here completely dependent on Aaravos for freedom. Out of desperation she pulls every weapon from her pocket dimension, every beloved dagger and even some swords and a few bludgeoning weapons like a mace and staff. She fills them with every ounce of magical energy she can spare and hurls them at the fake sky. She does this over and over to no use, just scattering her weapons across the courtyard horribly bent and mangled.

Loki's breath comes in shorter and shorter, heavier and heavier. It is so cramped here, the walls are too close, too overbearing around her. She cannot breathe like this.

I need to get out of here. How do I get out of here? Oh please I just need to be somewhere I can breathe! Why can't I breathe? Where is all the air? Loki curses as her knees buckle under her. She scrambles along the grass and dirt until she has backed herself into the corner of the garden with the walls at her back. Even with the entire garden before her it is much too small a space. She cannot think, cannot breathe, why by the Norns can she not breathe?

Loki pulls her knees to her chest, as if to make herself smaller to fit inside such a compressed space. As a last resort to feel safe again from this ever-present threat, Loki drapes an illusion over herself, shrouding her form and turning invisible. It does not help, but she can barely bring herself to move at this point. She can't breathe. She can't breathe.

She was so angry. Will she even want to see me?

She still needs to eat. I will hand her a bowl and leave again.

But I need to apologize.

It depends, Aaravos decides. If Loki is still as angry as she was, he can leave. He does not want to face her anger again so soon. If she is less angry, maybe he can apologize again, tell her one of his new plans.

Finally, he enters the garden, not having seen Loki anywhere else, and stops dead at the sight of dozens of assorted weapons strewn over his garden.

Is Loki hurt?

He looks around, only worrying more when he cannot see Loki. But she must be here, he has checked every other place and this is the only one that shows any sign of her presence. Where is she?

Shifting both bowls to one arm, Aaravos reaches into a pocket for the pen he almost forgot he had. He uncaps it and holds it up, turning slowly and concentrating on its temperature.

There! As he turns toward a corner, the pen warms, growing still warmer as he walks to the corner.

"Loki?" he asks softly. He replaces the pen in his pocket and tentatively holds out a bowl. "I am sorry. Will you accept my humble apology?"

Loki can barely respond to Aaravos, so caught up in her panic. The illusion falls away as Aaravos holds out the bowl, as Loki no longer has the strength of will to sustain it. She looks up at Aaravos, breath coming in short bursts as she tries and feels like she fails to take in air. "I can't- I can't- I need to- am I dying?"

Pushing back the burst of fear in his chest, Aaravos reaches out to Loki, setting both bowls down to do so. He reaches for her hand, taking it in both of his and rubbing gentle circles on her wrist. "No, no, you are not dying. You are alive, you are safe. I am here. You are safe."

Loki clings to Aaravos's hands like he is what is keeping her alive. In a way, he is. As he repeats the soothing mantra of "you are safe, I am here," Loki's muscles begin to relax, twitching as they do so for how tense they were. Every repeat of those three words, "you are safe," brings Loki back to reality, to the present moment, bit by bit. Slowly, she can breathe again, and when she takes her first deep breath it hitches in a sob. Loki leans forward, pulling their clasped hands to her forehead and grounding herself in Aaravos's presence with her.

Even now, he makes her feel better. Even now, she believes him when he tells her that she is safe.

Aaravos closes his eyes, steadying his breathing to keep himself calm. This, he knows, should help calm Loki as well. "You are safe," he says again. "...I finished dinner, if you would like to eat anytime soon." He smiles a little. "Or we can stay sitting like this. Whichever you prefer."

Loki shakes her head, clinging to Aaravos's hands. "Just… stay here. Don't leave me, please."

"I will not leave," Aaravos says quietly. He will be pulled away in just a couple hours, but until then he will stay by Loki's side as long as she wants him to.

"No… I mean…" Do not leave me ever, do not leave me here to escape to Xadia.

But Loki cannot ask that of him, not when he has craved his freedom for so many centuries. "Thank you. Just… thank you. I cannot believe you came to look for me after how terrified you looked before."

"Always," Aaravos says. He hesitates before admitting, "You are frightening when you are angry, and I–" love you the more for it.

His words turn into a cough. "You needn't apologize. You had reason to be angry. I should have thought through that plan more thoroughly."

"Yes… you should have, but… I might have overreacted a touch." Loki shudders before continuing. "You scared me as well, today, though you probably were not aware."

When could he have scared Loki? Perhaps when he began speaking of his plan? We need to talk. Oh, perhaps that was it.

"I apologize. I admit I could have worded it better. I did not realize it would scare you."

"No, that… that was not what I was referring to." Loki wipes at the tears on her face. "You usually do not move when you are using your astral form. Your lips will move and you will smile or frown, but you are otherwise very still… except for today." Loki swallows and pulls at the collar of her shirt. "It was not much, and not for long, but you… you reminded me of a time I would much rather forget. You reminded me of… myself when I was not."

Aaravos's eyes widen, and he pulls back slightly before catching himself. Lux Aurea. The Sunfire priest.

"I… I am sorry. I did not know, did not intend that." He squeezes Loki's hands lightly. "I was… showing off, I suppose. It was… not as fun as I expected it to be. I am sorry I brought back those memories." He hesitates, then leans forward, putting his arms around Loki slowly enough he can pull away if she does not like it.

Loki melts into the hug, wrapping her arms around Aaravos in turn. He is warm and steady and Loki is still unsure how she feels about hugs in general. At times her instincts still tell her that so much contact is reserved for combat.

But Aaravos makes hugs feel safe.

"I want to believe this is who you are," Loki murmurs into Aaravos's shoulder. "I can tell you are someone different when you are not with me, someone very different. Is that who you would rather be? Do you hide who you are to keep the peace when we are stuck with each other?"

Aaravos pauses a moment. Is he really so different when he is with the mage? Well… maybe.

"...no," he says. "I…" He hesitates again before allowing the words to spill from him. "If anything, I am more of myself with you. Myself now, at least. I was, I was someone different before, before I was imprisoned." Before I met you. "And that Aaravos, it is… it is safer, I suppose, to be that Aaravos out there. The Aaravos that can do certain things, because he has done them before, and laugh as he does so. The one whose name is used to scare elflings. The one who does not regret his deeds."

Aaravos pulls back from Loki, looking at her hair because he cannot meet her eyes. "Once, that Aaravos was the true Aaravos. But he is not anymore. I…" The battle is not yet won. Neither Loki nor I is freed. "I may still need that Aaravos, just for a few more days. I will stay in whatever room you like, with the doors closed, so you needn't see him again." He stops, then adds, "When we are free, I hope to be rid of that version of me."

Loki steels her resolve, steadies her expression, and says, "No. I will stay by you. I am not so frail, Aaravos, that I cannot look upon the worst of you. I have seen far worse." Loki reaches up to cup Aaravos's face with her hand, pulling his gaze to her eyes to make her point clear. "So long as you come back to me, the real you."

Aaravos blinks, moisture coating his lashes. "I will. I will come back to you." He pulls forth a laugh, saying, "Although I hope that will be figurative. I hope to bring you out of this prison, not come back to it myself!"

Loki shoves Aaravos's arm playfully, laughing along, more out of relief than anything. "You know what I mean, Sparkles."

your honor, they're traumatized idiots in love.