Lost Before The Dawn
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Warnings: None.
Chapter Playlist: 'Laufey' from 'Thor'.
'For Mercy has a human heart;
Pity, a human face;
And Love, the human form divine:
And Peace the human dress.'
- Songs of Innocence by William Blake
The tunnel wall was dark and damp with moisture as Loki prowled their length. Agent Barton led him surely through the twisting maze.
He had chosen well. These underground caverns would be easily guarded, and difficult to find. They would do.
He stopped in the centre of a cavernous space at the very centre of this web of tunnels. He eyed it critically, before inclining his head once.
"Gather what we need," he told Barton, who nodded once, and disappeared into the shadows. He did not doubt his loyalty; the power of the Sceptre was unbreakable. He glanced towards Dr. Stanley, holding on tightly to the case holding the Tesseract. "Make your preparations, Stanley. We have only a short time to accomplish my will. Guard it with your life."
"My King," Stanley inclined his head, but Loki had already looked away, to the young woman cradled in the arms of one of the SHIELD agents he had taken.
"Follow me," he murmured, sweeping away, following another tunnel until it opened up, a short way from the main cavern, into a small, square space. He eyed the cold, slime-roughened concrete, and his lip curled in disgust. With a graceful wave of his hand, a swathe of dark green silk blossomed and rippled out over the cold stone. At Loki's direction, the agent laid Jane down gently, making sure her head did not rest on the stone. He waved the agent away, standing for a moment and regarding the woman his…false brother loved.
She looked so innocent in repose. Her eyelashes were a stark black against the paleness of her cheek, a paleness Loki deduced came from long hours spent indoors rather than natural colouring. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythm of her breathing, and she did not stir when he reached out a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek, grazing her soft skin in the process.
So innocent, and so simple. He almost envied her that. Innocence was a luxury, and a curse, he had long lost.
His…'family' had stolen it from him.
His fingertips lingered on Jane's warm cheek. Had she been awake, she would have been shocked at the softness, the pain, in the eyes of the creature who had torn apart a SHIELD base.
They were such innocent creatures, humans. They played with their weapons and their pretensions of being larger than themselves, but in the grand scheme of things, they were but insects.
Loki's gaze refocused on the mortal woman lying before him.
Such loveliness. Such spirit.
They would soon see they needed him, to protect them, to guide them. Like a wild horse, he would break them all until they accepted his mastery gladly.
You were both born to be Kings…
A bitter smirk quirked his lips. His 'father' should be proud. After all, he was a King merely taking a throne for himself. He was doing as he'd been trained to do, all along.
Just not on the All-Father's leash, as he'd intended.
Thanos had set him free, shown him the error and the naiveté he had once possessed was folly, and lifted the veil from his perceptions and memories. His family had never loved him, had never esteemed him, had abandoned him, and thus he was alone.
And alone would make him strong. Nothing could now hold him back
His face hardened, as he drew his hand back, standing quickly.
Nothing would stop him, least of all a silly little mortal.
Inwardly disgusted at himself, Loki turned and walked away, leaving Jane behind in the damp darkness.
Jane sluggishly crawled her way back to consciousness. Her head pounded, her side ached, but apart from that, she felt reasonably alright, as she forced her eyes to open.
Then shut them again quickly. Bad idea. Really bad idea.
It was like the worst hangover she had ever experienced. No, scratch that. Ten times worse than the worst hangover she'd ever known.
She was vaguely aware of something soft pressing against her cheek, and as she forced herself to lie still, the pain in her head eased slightly.
As she lay there, she listened with all her might, as memory slowly filtered back.
The bunker. Patsy. James. Fury. Loki.
Jane was pretty certain she should be feeling fear right about now, but the fact that she was alive and clearly had all her own self-will intact, confused her. Why had Loki left her alive and free?
Straining her hearing, she could distantly make out the sounds of what seemed like drilling and low voices, followed by the sound of rhythmic thumps that reminded her of boots running on the ground.
Guard patrols, she guessed. But where the hell were they?
Time to have another go at opening her eyes.
Cautiously, Jane opened them a slit, and winced as light assaulted her retinas, but it eased and levelled out, dimming into a brick and mortar-built room, low-ceilinged and cold. It was small, square and devoid of any kind of comfort. Apart from an emergency lighting strip, it was dark.
Directly in front of her stood the figure of a hulking man, dressed in a slightly ragged looking suit.
One of the SHIELD agents Loki enslaved, she guessed. Slowly, carefully, she levered herself up onto her elbows, opening her eyes completely, grimacing as her ribs twinged. She was tempted to use one of Darcy's choicest swear words, but she didn't want to make it too obvious she was awake just yet.
"Inform the master that she's awake," a rough voice suddenly muttered, and Jane jumped, her eyes flying to her guard. Damn, he'd heard her.
Stupid SHIELD training. And the 'master' must mean Loki. Damn.
She looked around, but the only escape route from her prison was blocked by the giant of a SHIELD agent standing in the doorway. There would be no way she'd get past him.
Nonetheless, her mind raced, laced with panic, as she tried to think through the pain in her head.
Why had he kept her alive? Why?
Even slightly off her game as she was feeling, Jane knew that the key to her continued survival was the answer to that question.
"Well, awake at last," a seductive, husky voice murmured, pulling Jane from her speculations. She glanced up to find him filling the doorway, dark, pale and menacing, except…
Jane wasn't sure why, but she didn't feel scared. God, she should do, she should be terrified but…she wasn't.
Forcing herself upright, ignoring the ache in her side from her ribs, she met his gaze squarely. One corner of his lips quirked upright, and he laced his hands together behind his back, taking one prowling step into the room, then another.
"I believe there are legends on this world, tales that speak of a beautiful maiden, cursed to eternal sleep. I feared for one moment my spell had been strong enough to make those stories true," he began. Jane narrowed her eyes.
"I'm flattered," she replied coolly. Her ribs twinged again, and she folded her arms defiantly to cover the need to place a hand against them. "Why am I here?"
He simply chuckled, watching her intently. "No need to be so hasty, my little mortal," he purred. "You will find out soon enough."
"I won't help you," she snapped, still defiant. "Magic Staff of Doom or not, I will not help you."
"Oh, I believe you," he murmured, stepping close. She tensed, aching to step back, but stayed her ground, refusing to back down just as she had back at base. "Incidentally, you have already played your part, Jane. Your mind allowed me access to this world. That was all that was required of you, nothing more."
"Then why did you take me? Why not kill me or leave me to die in that bunker?" she asked, but he just smiled and turned away.
"You ask many questions when you should just be grateful, and silent," he replied coldly, but she glared at his back.
She really didn't know why it fell from her lips, but it did. "Make me!"
Jane, you idiot! Not only did it sound cringe-worthily childish, but it was probably the wrong thing to say to a sociopath who had ruthlessly murdered at least ten people right in front of her.
But he just laughed, turning to face her once more. He folded his eyes, leaning against the crumbling stone walls languidly, his ever-shifting eyes watching her unceasingly.
"I could do so, if I wished, my dear Miss Foster," he hissed, as she shifted uncomfortably for the first time. "But I will not. As to your questions, you are an intelligent woman, unusually so for this barren little planet. Think!"
She eyed him narrowly. Talk about a backhanded compliment! "You took James. Sure, he's the expert on thermonuclear astrophysics, but that still doesn't answer why you kept me alive when you murdered my other colleague…"
She trailed off. Of course…
Explosions…screaming…Thor flying backwards across the road from a blow…the sound of tortured, screeching metal…
"You going to use me to get to Thor," she breathed.
"Impressive. Quicker than anticipated, I'll admit," he murmured, straightening from his perch and stalking her back into the wall. "But yes. You see, my little mortal, I made him a promise, and I do so hate to disappoint…"
But Jane smiled, and puzzlement appeared in the emerald/sapphire depths of his eyes. He narrowed them, watching her as an almost infuriating smile spread across her lips. "What is it?"
"And you just told me more than that," she hissed, smugly. "You've just told me Thor's alive. You wouldn't be keeping me alive if he was dead, what would be the point of torturing someone to punish a dead man…God…whatever?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "I am seeing more and more why my brother fixed his affections on you. You are an odd choice for him, but infinitely more sensible than I ever perceived him to be capable of."
"It's not his choice," Jane muttered back, meeting his eye defiantly.
"Dear me, how disappointing," he replied, turning away to walk in a small circuit around her. Determinedly, she kept still, as he kept talking. "A woman is but the possession of a man. You should feel honoured to be the choice of a God."
Jane snorted. "It's called emancipation," she retorted pointedly. He chuckled as he completed the circuit and faced her once more.
"You are a fiery one," he stated. "And clever. Yes, I think I shall enjoy this, Jane Foster."
"Enjoy what?" she asked, frowning. He just smirked, a dark, seductive one she knew she shouldn't like.
Then why did it feel like her spine had disappeared?
"You will discover soon enough, mortal, once I choose to divulge it," he replied, arrogantly, and she eyed him glaringly. "Be satisfied."
"You know, the more you tell me to be satisfied, the more I'm not," she told him. "Reverse psychology, buddy."
Suddenly, he took a step towards her and grasped her by the waist, making her gasp as fire raced down her spine. He paused, his eyes rushing from her agonised grimace to his hand on her waist, just below her ribcage.
He manoeuvred her back against the wall, pinning her in as she gasped and winced again.
"Hey! Kinda tender, in case you hadn't noticed!" she snapped.
"When did this occur?" he asked shortly.
"You do enjoy making an entrance," she muttered through gritted teeth. He shook his head.
"Stubborn mortal," he murmured, curling a finger under the hem of her sweater and pulling it up.
"Hey! Get your hands off me!" she spat, trying to move away, but he caught her wrists in one of his own and pinned them against the wall.
"Stay still!" he hissed vehemently. "Or I will make you stay still. I cannot heal this wound, but I might ease your pain, if you stay still."
Jane bit back her retort when she felt his free hand brush aside her sweater again, sliding over the curve of her waist. Glancing down, she could see the darkening smudge across her ribs where she'd bruised.
He pressed his hand against her ribs, making her gasp and arch in pain, before a wave of soothing heat spread out from his palm, taking away the ache both from her ribs and the lingering headache from his spell.
"Good girl," he breathed, and Jane was achingly aware, suddenly, of how close he was, his words caressing her hairline. "See how easy it becomes when you submit? Be obedient, and I will take care of you."
Jane eyed him narrowly, as he looked down at her almost warmly. For a moment, dark emerald shone through the eerie blue haze of his eyes, and she watched it as it faded.
"Never," she whispered. "I don't know what you're doing here, or what you're planning, but we will never submit to you."
"Oh, my dear Jane," he chuckled, releasing her wrists. "You will. It is only a matter of time, and then you will see, it is for your own good."
"I'll decide what's for my own good, thank you very much," she snapped, moving as far away from him as possible in that tiny room.
He shook his head, raven hair flying with the movement, as he stepped close behind her, so his mouth brushed her ear.
"And that is your greatest weakness, common to your entire race," he whispered silkily.
"And yours is your arrogance," Jane retorted, turning her head slightly to glare at him over her shoulder. "So thank you for the help, but don't expect me to make a habit out of it."
"I would never dream of it," he sighed, almost exasperatedly. "But you will learn."
"Don't hold your breath," she snarled, turning away to glare at the opposite wall. Suddenly, she felt an awful pressure against her scalp, as he grasped a chunk of hair and pulled, swinging her around and to him, stretched painfully against his body.
"Be careful, mortal," he hissed warningly, his eyes dark and glinting like the depths of the Tesseract. "I will only allow you so much insolence."
"Yeah? And where would the fun be otherwise?" she gasped, arching her neck back to ease the pain in her scalp. Appreciation, and something that looked suspiciously like respect, filtered into Loki's eyes, and she gasped again as his eyes flashed green, like a forest in midnight shadow.
"You would have been wasted on my brother. How fortunate for you, albeit not so for him, that your affections have since waned?" he asked, his tone cordial, almost unbelievably so, as if he wasn't all but holding her off the ground, and against his body, by her hair.
His body was like stone against hers, all corded muscle and taut, graceful lines. Not strong like Thor's, whom reminded her of a wrestler or a cage fighter, but like a martial artist, a fencer.
Graceful, lean and deadly.
Why was she thinking this? Snap out of it, Jane!
"That really is none of your business!" she panted. "Especially after you sent that robot thing to kill him. Concerned for your brother's feelings, are we? Brotherly concern my foot!"
"You truly do have a death wish, don't you?" he sighed. For the first time, fear niggled at the back of Jane's mind, but she firmly pushed it away. She couldn't let him see her scared, or he'd be able to control her.
"Nope. Just a smart mouth and a short temper. Careful, they're deadly," she narrowed her eyes, and he laughed, loudly, but it wasn't a cold, mocking laugh. It was genuinely amused, and light, and for a moment, his eyes gleamed green again.
Interesting. She catalogued that thought away for later, as he released her hair, and she stepped back.
"Rest," he told her curtly, as if trying to make up for the slight lapse in his intimidating-God-routine, and she was back to bristling again. "My magic will ease the pain for a few hours, but overt movement and exertion will exacerbate it once more. We will speak more later."
And with that, he turned and left her prison. Jane took one step in the direction of the door, and the possessed SHIELD agent stepped back into view. She sighed, and stepped back, until she hit the wall and sat down until she was back on the green blanket she'd woken up on.
That had to be the most surreal conversation she had ever had. And why was she smiling?
Jane touched her lips, noting their slight curve, and ruthlessly straightened them. He was holding her hostage, to use against his brother, and she was smiling, and flirting with him?
Well, ok, between bouts of him doing the sinister act and then generally acting like the sociopath he was. But still…
He was rather charming. At times. And in his eyes…something so sad, so….broken. She felt…something like pity rise up in her. What had happened to turn him into this mad, mercurial creature…?
JANE! She yelled at herself. She groaned aloud, and closed her eyes, another throb starting up behind them. Great, another headache.
Loki walked away from the little room where Thor's woman was held.
Although, he supposed he could not call her 'Thor's woman' since she was quite determined not to be. He almost felt sorry for him, the poor fool.
She was an…intriguing mortal. More so than he'd anticipated, but no matter. He would break her like the rest.
Her confidence had to be a façade. All he need do was crack it, and like a mirror, it would shatter.
He shook the thought of her away. He had work to do, and much of it, if he was to be ready in time.