Stolen Stars

Chapter Six

And in the sea that's painted black

Creatures lurk below the deck

But you're the king and I'm a lionheart

(King and Lionheart – Of Monsters and Men)

0o0o0o0o0o0

The following days were tedious to Rose.

It was more than just the routine, though. She would rise in the morning, eat breakfast alone in her chamber, perhaps take a walk through the immaculate gardens, and then head to the prison for an hour. Loki, always irreverent, greeted her with a glare and then waved her to sit before him in the two wooden chairs that were provided for them. They faced each other now, and Rose would sit still, palms open on her knees until Loki leaned forward to grasp them. It was their silent agreement that Loki would initiate any touch.

Rose made a point to not touch his hand until he reached out to her, no matter how obvious the pain from the poison was etched on his face. She did not burrow into his thoughts in order to glean meaning for his actions. He was content enough to shove his plans to use her for some as-of-yet-unformed escape plan. It was easy enough for him to simply shut the rest of those doors, and she did not pry.

Rose understood the enormity of the abyss that was once his trust.

Afterwards Rose would ask how he was feeling; a stupid question of course, since she could see the relief that was instantly masked. Loki would not talk in anything beyond monosyllables, and to be honest eventually she was hardly in the mood to have a conversation. Frustration dogged her mind as each session ended in awkward attempts to establish something resembling a normal friendship. Rose could see Loki's mind clearing, and his thoughts were connecting more smoothly, but he would give her nothing more than the occasional casual (and usually terse) remark.

She learned from Fandral that Loki had been stripped of his title, his strength, and his powers as punishment for his crimes. Well, at least the powers granted to him by Asgard. Whatever skills he was given in the dark realm seemed to have been diminished. The runes on his cell walls kept whatever was left to his willpower muffled. As Rose continued to immerse herself into her former roommate's mind, she could sense the anger at his helplessness and the hollow displacement of purpose underneath the thick black muck.

That alone Loki couldn't help but reveal to her.

Fandral helped, a little, to distract Rose when she was not at the prison. His easy manner and harmless flirtation accompanied their brief encounters in the corridors and the library, but he was observant enough to understand that what Rose was dealing with was too heavy to completely ignore.

Twice Thor would invite Rose to dine with him and his companions. Fandral and Thor were kind enough to her, but Volstagg and Sif—especially Sif—looked on Rose like she was the dangerous criminal being locked away for crimes against the universe. The fierce brunette glared at her with venom that rivaled what was coursing through Loki's veins. Rose declined further offers after that.

Her solitude stretched beyond what Rose was normally used to. Travelling in the TARDIS, the exhilaration of constant renewal of scenery and species, made it easy to forget she had no companions of her own.

The first few nights were easy. She exhausted herself through healing Loki, and then focused on learning more about the planet and its history. But as the poison began to fade, and the process became smoother (albeit still headache-inducing), she found herself yearning to get to the TARDIS. There was little chance to get there unnoticed, however. Her steps were constantly dogged by Hermod.

So she would look out her window at night, at the foreign stars, and her heart would lurch in longing.

0o0o0o0o0o0

"Alright, that's it."

Loki raised a brow, confused as to what had annoyed her. The blond woman had stood up from her chair and was standing over him, arms crossed in front of her.

"I didn't want to bring this up, but this has gone on long enough."

A shard of panic pierced his heart, which then switched to anger. Of course, she was leaving. He knew that she would tire of healing him. Rose was intelligent enough to abandon him to his own devices, there was nothing to save anyway.

"Either you get the royal hairdresser or whatever in here, or I'm cutting it myself."

Loki blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me," Rose said, looking for all the world like a Valkyrie on a mission. "Lop it off, Rapunzel. It really doesn't suit you."

It took another moment for it to click.

"My hair?"

"I've done it dozens of times. And trust me, you are in sore need."

Loki jerked his head back. He would be offended if it wasn't for the ludicrous idea that Rose Tyler was offering to cut his hair after essentially sucking poison out of his head.

"Don't give me that look, Guns."

"You want to give me a haircut?"

"Yes."

"And give the guards more reason to laugh at their defeated, fallen prince?" Loki drawled wryly.

"I think they have enough ammunition against you regardless. So what d'you say?"

Loki stared at her, still trying to process what exactly it was that she was trying to accomplish. Rose was still looking at him expectantly.

He swallowed. This was, perhaps, the first time in a long time that any shred of domesticity was offered to him. Despite his resentment against the woman before him, part of Loki longed for interaction that did not reek of judgment and punishment. He could grant a few borrowed moments of false normalcy. He could pretend.

"If it pleases you," he sighed, rolling his eyes. The sudden smile that lit up her face made his stomach lurch. It was too close, much to close to the one he knew.

Her ill-fitted skirt swished as she skittered to the cell door, knocking on it. Idly Loki wondered why the king had not given her sufficient clothing to wear. There were more than enough dressmakers at the palace's disposal. Did he not expect her to stay for so long?

A spark of indignation lighted in his chest at the thought of Rose being treated indecently, but he smothered it with practiced apathy.

Rose was soon back with a cloth and a pair of shards, and still beaming. Really, her enthusiasm about the whole thing was baffling.

Is it really that bad? he thought. He was given a shard of mirror to shave every few days, but beyond that Loki had little idea of what he looked like. Not that it mattered, of course.

"Alright, I promise I won't take long. Just sit still." She moved behind him and draped the cloth over his shoulders.

Tension radiated along his spine as Loki felt Rose's fingers brush the nape of his neck, gathering the longer strands there. Part of his mind, the part still clouded, flooded with panic that she was going to slice his throat. But as the methodical snips continued without bloodshed, Loki forced himself to calm.

"Y'know, Asgard isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Hmm?" he grunted, blinking. Remarkably, he had begun to fall into a relaxed lull with Rose's gentle ministrations.

"I mean, all your lore. The poetry about the grandeur of the Gods. Yeah, it's beautiful. Amazing even."

"But?"

"But it's no Isles of Gador, is all," she said, her shears reaching the strands on the left side of his head now. "You want to see divine structures? The gardens alone—"

"Have you even ventured outside of the palace? There is much more to see than the inside of this dungeon, you know." Loki wrinkled his nose even as the words came out of his mouth. Why was he defending the planet that he once called home?

"Well, no. Is there anything beyond the palace? Tilt your head to the side for a sec. Granted, it's solid gold and gigantic, but after a while you get kind of tired of being blinded by all the light reflected into your eyes."

Loki suppressed a sigh of irritation, but obeyed. He could see the metal blades move from the corner of his eye further across his browline. Long black strands drifted down to the floor.

"There are more wonders to be seen in Asgard than you can imagine. If your shadow will allow it, of course."

"Hermod isn't so bad, once you get past the enormous stick in his arse of course." A finger lifted his chin. Loki mused over when this new-Rose had become so authoritative. "What kind of wonders? Seems all gold and silver and Vikings to me."

"The rivers under the mountains, for one," he said, his mind turning to old childhood memories. Memories finally unclogged from the ever-consuming poison. "They turn purple in the dying starlight, and the faeringrs emerge to fish. Some of the Aesir enjoy activities other than fighting, if you would believe it."

"Maybe you can show me sometime."

For a moment, Loki forgot himself. He almost laughed when reality set in once more. Oh, clever girl. He had to admire Rose for her initiative.

"Yes, of course," he said, keeping his tone artificially light. "You, Thor, and I can all venture out there in our own little boat. Perhaps we'll have tea and a picnic, too."

"Oi, I'm the one with the scissors here." Rose had the gall to flick his ear. "You want me to shave half your head? I will."

Loki fumed silently in his seat as she continued working, too vain even in his diminished position to warrant taking such a risk.

"I was just trying small-talk. Sorry." She seemed sincere, but that didn't erase Loki's growing discontent.

His discomfort rose as he felt her fingers linger through their pathways across his scalp, tugging slightly as she examined the length.

"Why are you helping me?" he muttered, jerking his head away from her hands to look up at her.

"Oh look, I'm done," she snapped back, waving the shears mockingly. "Anyway, we've been over this. Because you are my friend."

"You are not." Rage flooded his veins as he sneered at her. "You know I can and will kill you. I can take those shears from your hands in a second, dispatch the guards without a spare thought, and watch as you bleed out on the floor." He watched with grotesque pleasure as her grip tightened on the scissors.

And to his shock, she reached out and dropped the blades into his lap.

"And you know," Rose murmured as she leaned down to meet his eyes, her expression stubborn and filled with something like a challenge, "that when I come back, I will kick your arse six ways 'til Sunday."

Ah yes. Rose Tyler, the Bad Wolf. He forgot about that.

"I thought that your dearly departed hated violence."

"You're not the only one who committed genocide. Well, attempted."

Loki's brow furrowed at that. He watched her, keeping cool and calculating, as she pulled the hair-covered cloth from his shoulders.

"Besides," she said, a mysterious smile on her lips as she shook the cloth out, "I have it on good authority that even after a thousand years, a man can change."

"Sentimental tripe," Loki scoffed. "What is the real reason you insist on staying here? What are you getting out of this except for a monstrous headache?" Rose blinked.

"How did you know—?"

Loki cut her off with a short laugh.

"You don't have a poker face in this body, either, Rose. Might have to work on that."

Rose moved her attention to the cloth in her hands as she folded it.

"I told you I'm—"

Unacceptable.

"Don't." His voice was a growl.

"It's true," Rose countered, pressing the bundle to her chest as she studied him with a mixture of exasperation and honest confusion in her face. "I have no other explanation for you, Loki, so the realquestion is—do you want me to stay?"

Deep down, he wanted to tell her no. She needed to leave, escape. Rose had nothing here but a sad, savage, and powerless criminal. Why cater to the needs of a murderer, a psychopath when she could do so much more? He saw the stars in her eyes, so glorious and yet she chose to tether herself here for so long. But even as he opened his mouth, his selfishness

(and something else, something cloying and too-sweet and wrapped so tightly around his soul that it was almost a part of him)

and desire to have one damn thing that he could call an ally in this universe made him change that first instinct.

"Yes."

A soft smile graced her face, and Rose shrugged.

"That's all I need to know, Guns."

Loki swallowed, and stood suddenly to walk over to the high window; covered in sealing runes to keep him from escape. The morning light streamed through the bars and he stood just beyond the line it cast on the stone floor.

"Damn, I forgot to ask for a mirror," he heard Rose mutter after a few moments of silence. "I swear you're not bald." He turned slightly to catch her giving him a strange look.

"What?"

"Sorry, um. It's…nothing really. I'm just—"

Loki's eyes narrowed as he caught her flushed face. Even after fifty years the woman could not control her emotions. Humans, he thought with less annoyance than he usually provided the species. He was mostly distracted by the reason why she was so flustered.

"Admiring your handiwork?" he finished for her, unable to suppress a smirk. Rose recovered soon enough.

"Not so bad, if I do say so myself," she replied, stepping over to him to get a better look. Loki could feel his pulse elevate. "Better than that metal-head you were rockin' before."

"Is that any way to speak to a god?"

"I always was a heretic."

"You always were a tease, Roses."

"Oh, but you like it," she crooned, her toothy almost-familiar grin widening. "Guns."

Loki's grin faltered as he realized what he was doing. Rose seemed to catch on to the abrupt coldness in his attitude, and cleared her throat, her gaze turning to the shears and cloth in her hands.

"Ok. Well. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then. Catch some sleep tonight, yeah? You look like death warmed over."

He hummed his answer absently as he stared her down, trying to push away the sudden influx of bittersweet memories like he would the fog.

Rose kept still for another moment, looking like she wished to say more, but thought better of it. Scrunching up her nose at some unreadable thought, she shook her head, huffed, and then padded back to the door, slipping out as quietly as she always did.

As soon as she disappeared on the other side and the lock slid into place behind her, Loki reached up to run a hand through his newly sheared hair. It was short, a bit shorter than it had been when he first met Rose. It did not get into his eyes as he shook it out, but there was something else too. His head felt different. Lighter.

Loki supposed he could get used to the change.