Loki didn't come for her the next day, nor did he lower his shields. Reagan wasn't surprised really, she knew what Fandral had said had stung him. What did surprise her though was that she found herself... waiting for him. The moment she'd awoken that morning to find that the all-too-familiar wall still remained resolutely in place disappointment had settled deep in the pit of her stomach. As she readied herself for the day, she caught herself several times opening her mouth to say something to him.
It was rather confronting to realise how comfortable she'd become with his presence in her mind when not so long ago she had fought back against it with everything she had in her.
And more so than that, as much as she might try to deny it, the truth was that she liked his company.
As the morning passed, Fandral's warning looped over in her mind again and again, as if it were some annoying song she'd managed to get stuck in her head. She supposed it would be stupid of her not to take some caution from his words. After all, Loki had been the person she trusted least in the whole universe until only a few months earlier. But now? She replayed her interactions with him over in her mind. She picked each of them apart, almost obsessively, looking for any minor detail - a word, a look, a gesture - something that she might have missed to suggest he was interacting with her with some ulterior motive.
And she started doing this not only with her time she'd spent with Loki, but also her time with Fandral and the others. He'd seemed so repulsed by the idea of Loki listening in. But what harm could it possibly do? Loki was to remain locked away for all eternity. What did it matter what he heard? Reagan tried her best to be reasonable; reminding herself how violated she'd first felt when the bond had forged and Loki was able to listen in to everything she said, everything she thought. It was only fair that Fandral would be concerned, learning this information.
She dreaded to think about how the others might have reacted when Fandral inevitably informed them. If she thought Sif disliked her before... Reagan shivered. It was probably for the best if she just avoided them altogether, at least for a little while.
She came to the conclusion that it was best if she just remained in her chambers for the day - perhaps even a few days. She was in no hurry to interact with any of Thor's friends after yesterday, and if Loki did happen to lower his shields, however unlikely that might be, she wanted to be able to talk freely with him. To tell him...
To tell him what exactly? She wasn't sure.
She didn't really think there was anything she could say to undo the damage Fandral's words had done. Was she supposed to tell Loki that she did, in fact, trust him? She chewed at her lip. It wasn't necessarily true. And Loki would know that. Undeniably, their dynamic had shifted since their bond had first snapped into place. And she'd been more surprised than anyone when she'd found herself becoming somewhat fond of him. But trust? That was another thing entirely. And Fandral was right, Loki was cunning. He'd had access to her mind for months now. That was more than enough time for him to figure out how best to manipulate her.
He was, after all, still the malicious God who had invaded the Earth with all his hatred and fury. Leading an army that killed and destroyed. Who wanted to conquer and oppress all of mankind.
But then he was also... Loki. Loki, who liked it when they teased each other and was delighted by pranks. Loki, who would make jokes and tell stories and distract her in moments when she grew homesick or felt out of place. Loki, who had books brought from Midgard at the risk of his own pride just to make her happy. Loki, who - since they had come to their truce - had never acted in any way other than to protect her best interests...
It was hard to reconcile the two.
Reagan rubbed at her face in frustration. She battled with the idea of just phasing into his cell and getting whatever confrontation would follow over and done with. She felt like a rubber band was pulled tight somewhere inside her and just seeing him - getting to talking to him about it - would either loose that tension or snap it entirely. And either way, it would be a relief.
She thought better of it. Loki could be temperamental, after all. Turning up unannounced when he clearly wanted to be left alone, just to discuss the very thing he was pointedly avoiding? It didn't seem like a good idea. He needed space. It was only fair that she give it to him.
A knock sounded at her door, stirring her from her thoughts. Dread curled deep in her stomach. No one ever visited her here in her chambers. She immediately envisioned Fandral standing on the other side of the door, ready to accuse her of more espionage. She trudged her way over to the door, cursing all of Asgard for her lack of a peephole on her chamber door. She braced herself as she opened it.
Reagan breathed a huge sigh of relief as she found herself face to face with a woman in maid's attire.
"Malin," she said happily. "It's nice to see you."
"And you as well my lady," Malin said with a tight smile.
Malin had made a habit of making herself scarce whenever Reagan was in her chambers. Evidently, the rumours about her and Loki had been enough to steer the woman away. Where she had at first been kind and conversational, helping Reagan to navigate the workings of Asgard in her first few weeks there, she now made sure to get any duties done when Reagan was conveniently away. If she had to help Reagan with any clothing - sewing new sleeves on for her for example - she did so with polite, yet clipped replies, and mistrustful glances toward the mark whenever it was exposed, as if the thing might bite her.
Loki had made a point of distracting her in those moments, saying something unkind about the maid just to get a rise out of Reagan. She would chide him, and the pair would begin to squabble, and she'd forget all about the maid's distrust in her. She hadn't recognised it for what it was until the fourth or fifth time he had done it.
"I have a gift for you," Malin told her, holding up a large, flat box. "From the Prince."
"From Loki?" Reagan asked, sounding surprised.
"From Prince Thor, my lady..."
"Oh," Reagan said quickly. "Right. Of course. That makes a lot more sense. Thank you."
She offered the maid a smile which Malin unconvincingly returned. She held the box out a little more, indicating for Reagan to take it. She did.
The other woman bowed her head curtly before heading off in the opposite direction before Reagan had even managed to close the door. Reagan carried the box over to her bed and set it down before lifting the lid to find a dress. It was black with muted gold finishings. Folded to fit the shape of the box. A short note rested on top of it.
Dearest Reagan,
As promised - garments fit for a wielder of flames. These leathers have been tested to withstand the heat of a sun. I do hope they shall be to your liking.
- Thor, God of Thunder
Reagan giggled a little at the way he'd signed his name, finding it rather sweet. She suddenly realised that she'd been waiting for Loki's reaction - undoubtedly scathing - and wondered how long she had been doing that; integrating him into every situation she found herself in. Making space for him.
She pushed the thought away and pulled the suit out of the box, holding it up to inspect it.
Leather seemed to be the wrong word for it. There weren't any leathers on Earth that felt anything like this. The fabric was soft to the touch, pliant, though if it were true that it could withstand her flames, it must have been incredibly durable.
Experimentally, she set alight a single finger and ran it gingerly over the fabric before quelling the fire and inspecting it again. It left no mark. She raced to try it on.
Reagan stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, taking in the sight before her. The dress was long-sleeved, as had become her trademark, reaching past her wrists at the back of her hands, and ending in a point at her knuckles. The neckline was prism-shaped, cutting into a dip at the peak of her cleavage. A muted gold accent ran parallel along the neckline dipping into points at her shoulders. The dress clung tight to her torso, fitting perfectly to her figure, accentuating her curves and completed with a dramatic high-low hem, that showed her legs from mid-thighs as she moved while also billowing behind her.
As she gazed at her reflection, Reagan couldn't help but think it looked nothing like the clothes worn by the Asgardian common people, nor the garments donned by their warriors. She wondered if Thor had instructed the seamstress who made it for her to take inspiration from Midgard. If he had, she appreciated him for that. But even so, there was something about it that didn't sit right with her. She didn't look... like herself. It dawned on her then that she felt a little like she was playing dress-up, filling boots that were too big for her.
She felt vaguely ridiculous.
She bit her lip hesitantly for a few moments, there was one person she could ask who would tell her the truth. And all too conveniently, it was a way to make contact without having to make mention of the thing they both desperately wanted to avoid.
Against her better judgement, she closed her eyes and projected her image into a cell beneath Asgard.
Loki sat beneath the maddening lights of his cell staring into space. There was no other word for it, he was brooding. He knew it. Anyone who might pass his cell would know it. And even with his shields firmly in place, Reagan likely knew it too.
Fandral.
Loki scowled at the very thought of him.
With all his morality and virtue.
He likely thought himself such a valiant hero as he warded Reagan away from the treacherous thing locked away beneath the golden city. As if he had any claim to do so.
Was it not enough that Loki was to be locked away for the rest of his days? Was it not enough that Thor had bested him? Again. That his own father would have put him to the axe if Frigga hadn't protested it? He'd lost his title. His freedom. Even his power was confined to this infernal cell. He had nothing left.
Was fate so cruel that he truly had to also be denied...
Loki cut the thought short.
He was under no illusion that he'd ever be able to have what past bearers of the mark had possessed.
But he and Reagan, they had been forming... something. Whatever little it may have been, it was vastly more than he'd ever hoped to expect.
He was no fool. He was all too aware that word would have spread like wildfire throughout Asgard when Reagan, the first bearer of the mark in millennia, had made her resentment for him so openly known when she had first arrived here. He could hardly blame her that, after all, he'd held nothing but disdain for the bond when it had first been forged. He hadn't allowed himself to see it as anything more than a curse - a final cruel joke from the universe. Again and again, he'd only made things worse between the two of them. Tormenting her at every step. Adding to her misery. Whenever she had attempted to offer peace, he had ruined it. Because was that not the inevitable?
And yet, each time she'd found her way back to him in one way or another. And whether intentional or otherwise, in a way that Loki himself didn't even understand, she had managed to find a way to slink past all his rage and loathing and brought out something in him he'd long since forgotten was there and reminded him he was more than just his bitterness.
And so maybe he'd allowed some small secret part of him to indulge in a few moments of hope.
When she had chosen Jotunheim of all the stars in the night sky.
When she had told him you've grown on me too.
When she'd started to spend every spare moment she could, talking to him, teasing him, laughing with him- liking him.
But Fandral learning this had found it absolutely unacceptable - regardless of what that sacred mark they shared was supposed to have meant - and had taken it upon himself to put a stop to it.
Because to Fandral the Dashing, with all his light and all his virtue, Loki was nothing more than a monster.
And now Reagan had been reminded of that too. And so too had Loki himself. And his brief reprieve from self-loathing had come to a jarring end. And so, Loki had shut her out.
Because at that moment, he'd felt her desire to protest, but he'd also felt the very real whisper of doubt in her. He didn't want to have to watch that grow -to witness as it twisted into something ugly. It was better to just go. To cut the tie short and let that be the end of it.
He'd forgotten himself. Bored and alone in the cell he would rot in, he'd allowed himself to get caught up in the only form of amusement he was privy to - the mortal. That was all it was. Nothing more. It was a mistake. And worse still, he'd showed his hand - she'd seen the weakness in him - that try as he might to deny it, she'd endeared herself to him, seemingly against his will.
He'd let it all go too far. Get out of hand.
He cursed himself for his own weakness. He would not make that mistake again. From here on out, he was determined to keep his distance.
And yet when her voice sounded behind him, he closed his eyes fleetingly in response, not entirely sure if it was dread or relief that bloomed in his chest. And quickly - so very quickly - he felt his resolution crumble.
"I'm looking for brutal honesty here," she said.
He refused to acknowledge the warmth those words elicited in him, denied the way the corner of his mouth wanted to quirk into a smile.
"Well, you've come to the right person," he drawled without looking her way.
He hadn't expected her to come to him today. He was so certain she'd see reason in Fandral's warning and keep her distance. Perhaps he'd thought too much of her and in the end, she was just another fool. Like the rest of them. He had, after all, come to learn how lacking her self-preservation skills seemed to be.
"Do I look stupid in this?" she asked.
Loki's brow creased in momentary confusion before he turned to take a look at her. He froze.
Stupid was the last word he would use to describe her.
She'd been adorned in the typical Asgardian style of draping fabrics for so long now that to turn and suddenly see the way the dress she wore clung to her curves, the way such a dramatic length of her legs were on display, it seemed almost unfair that she hadn't given him fair warning. The neckline, which accented the curve of her throat and the line of her clavicles, plunged in a way that drew his eye sinfully towards the swell of her breasts as if against his own will.
Even after months spent in Asgard, she hadn't taken to styling her hair in the intricately braided buns worn by most Asgardian women. Instead, she wore it out in its natural waves or tied it back in a simple style. Or occasionally, when alone in her chambers or in his cell, in a ridiculous messy pile on the top of her head that she refused to take any criticism for despite Loki's best efforts. But for now, her hair fell naturally around her shoulders. Loki was loathe to admit that he liked it best that way.
In truth, she was a vision.
Loki recognised the leathers she had donned - knew them to be fireproof. And he couldn't help but imagine she'd be an ethereal sight to behold, clad Asgardian tailoring, her whole body set aflame, her hair whipping around her wildly as she summoned fort the power within her as he'd seen it, atop Stark Tower when he'd brought the Chitauri to destroy them all.
He turned his head away.
"Well, you'll certainly fit in better with your merry band of do-gooders when you return to Midgard," he said offhandedly, willing himself not to look at her again. "Where'd you get it?"
"Thor had it made for me," she said as she hand her hand over her waist as if trying to smooth the fabric into place. Loki bit down on a snarl, managing a clenched jaw in its place instead. "He thinks these leathers might be able to withstand my flames better than the stuff I trialled back home."
"And?"
"I haven't tested it out yet," Reagan admitted. "Honestly, I'm a little embarrassed to leave my room looking like this. I mean, it's a little much, isn't it? It doesn't feel like... I don't know, I just don't know if it fits."
As Loki strained to keep his eyes from wandering to greedily roam her figure once more it was more than safe to say he whole-heartedly disagreed.
"You haven't anything to worry about," Loki assured her, in his best attempt to sound disinterested.
"Are you sure?" She looked down at herself again. "Don't you think it's a little too... busty?"
From the corner of his eye, Loki saw as Reagan took hold of her breasts and pushed them together experimentally before letting go and placing her hands on her hips as she continued to stare down at herself. An unexpected wave of heat suddenly clawed its way up his neck.
"Well, if you're going to stand there fondling yourself then perhaps you're right not to leave your chambers."
Reagan snorted a little.
"I probably shouldn't be so worried," she mused. "If this leather doesn't hold up, a little cleavage is going to be the least of my problems."
"Yes, I remember the exciting little display you once put on for our dear Halvor."
Reagan laughed.
"Oh yeah, good thing you Asgardians are all so fond of capes so I had something to cover up with," she said. "Actually, I still have Fandral's. I'd better bring it with me in case my test run goes terribly, terribly wrong."
The moment she spoke his name a strange tension seemed to settle between them. The change was palpable. Loki willed away the coil in his stomach, hoping she hadn't seen the way his shoulders tensed. He could usually mask himself so effortlessly. Hide any sign of emotion, of worry, of fear. What was it about this infernal little mortal that made that simple task such an undertaking?
He silently blamed the mark. There was something about its magic that forced down his defences and left him vulnerable in a way he'd never normally allow himself to be. He needed to be more vigilant.
If Reagan had noticed the way he tensed, evidently she decided to ignore it and press on, to pretend everything was fine. She made her way over to his bed and sat down, facing him now, one leg crossed over the other, her hem riding a little higher up her thigh. Loki determined as she leaned forwards slightly that yes; the suit was decidedly far too busty and he couldn't stop himself from wondering vaguely how that leather, supposedly able to withstand all kinds of flames, might fare against his teeth.
"Where do you think I should go?" Reagan asked, mercifully interrupting the train of thought. "Are there any fire-proof rooms in the palace?"
"I don't know about that but there are some old sparring fields that are scarcely used anymore."
"Nothing I can burn to the ground?"
"It's mostly sand and stone."
"Okay, so maybe I'll just end up making some weird glass artwork. I can give it to Thor as a thank-you gift."
Loki rolled his tongue over his teeth. He couldn't decide who he least enjoyed her casual mention of - Fandral or his fool brother.
"Are you going to come with me or are you still ignoring me?" Reagan asked, at last, tapping her finger to her temple. "Because, honestly, I'd appreciate the moral support if I do have to repeat performance and have to make a dash for my room butt naked."
Loki smirked at her.
"Have you not considered just taking another change of clothing with you just as a precaution?"
Reagan pursed her lips together, amused.
"See? This is why I need you."
He sorely wished he could resent her for her choice of phrasing, especially with the infuriatingly sweet smile she shot his way. But all that smile did was solidify the innocence of her words.
Loki hesitated for a few moments but then relented and lowered his shields around the outskirts of his mind. He hated that he didn't quite hate the way she grinned in response. As he lowered his shields and allowed the bond to reform, he thought for a moment that he felt the faintest whisper of relief swirl around her before she tucked it away, somewhere hidden from him.
And so he let her in. Learning nothing from the lessons fate hate dealt him time and time again before. Because it made her smile.
He did, however, keep a secret corner of his mind locked away from her - the corner where he'd allow himself to loathe Fandral with such intensity it would scandalise anyone else who even happened to glimpse it. Where he bred his contempt for his father, for Thor. Where all his darkness could writhe and surge and manifest.
And also...
Where he stored his hope. Where he tried so desperately to smother it. To destroy it. And sometimes - just sometimes - allowed himself a few fleeting seconds where he indulged it. And then resented himself for it. Because in a way, his hope was the ugliest thing that he possessed.
And then Loki felt her allow him to settle back into the bond in turn, and it felt like light. It felt like it fit. It felt like- until, ebbing at the edges of her mind he noticed something he had not before. It appeared that Reagan had her own little door which she'd locked away from him, a shield she now held in place where before she'd seen no need for it. Bitterness filled him. So, Fandral's words had had some effect on her after all. The vicious urge arose in him to break down her newly established barriers and discover just what she'd deemed him unworthy of seeing but he quelled it quickly. Suffocated the want. Swore a silent oath he'd never violate her that way. He'd been spoilt, able to read her - anticipate her - for so long, unimpeded. He'd taught her to guard herself for this exact reason - simply, so that she could. He wouldn't take that from her. Even if he craved to know what she wanted to keep secret. And more so, he reprimanded himself, she had every right to her private thoughts. He wanted that for her. It was part of why he insisted on continuing their lessons, even if it meant her keeping him out too.
This ugly want, to peek beyond, to know more - he knew it was all born of the ugly truth - knowledge that, despite what the marks might mean, he could never have...
As the shields fell away completely, Reagan's voice interrupted his train of thought.
Hi, she said happily inside his mind even as she still sat opposite him, looking directly at him.
In spite of himself Loki couldn't help but to smile.
Hello there.
"Alright," Reagan said as she stood from her spot on his bed, her projection fading away before his very eyes before he heard her voice once more. Lead the way.
As Loki guided Reagan through Asgard towards the old sparring fields, the pair chatted idly as they normally would. They teased and tormented one another. Made jokes. Commented on things Reagan passed by. As if everything had once again returned to normal.
Well, almost.
There was still a palpable tension between them and though neither of them acknowledged it, Reagan knew they both felt it. She didn't know how to undo it, so instead she endeavoured to ignore it. And to do so, she did the thing she'd learned worked best with Loki, and goaded him into a conversation about something completely unimportant which would no doubt lead to him being both insanely overly invested and, at the same time, completely and utterly annoyed.
"I guess if this works I'm going to have to come up with a superhero name, huh?" she said.
And why is that?
"Well, if I want to be on the team it can't be Captain America, Iron Man and... Reagan. That sounds so stupid."
That's because you were speaking.
Rather than being offended, Reagan let out a short, somewhat delighted giggle.
"No but for real, what do you think of Flamestrike?"
It's a little generic. Surely, you can do better.
"Okay, that's fair. Heatwave Heroine?"
I truly hope you're joking. That is the most god-awful thing I've ever heard.
"Hmmm... The Scorching Sorceress. Oh! Or what about just The Scorcher?"
You are... incomprehensively bad at this.
"Just give me a second, would you? This is what brainstorming is all about, you get the bad ideas out of the way so the good ones have room to shine... What rhymes with fire?"
What rhymes with fire? Loki repeated in utter disbelief.
"Listen, are you going to help with this or-"
I am not, Loki assured her adamantly. If this is any indication of the quality of what you're going to produce as an end result, I want absolutely no affiliation with it.
"You say that now, but just you wait until I come up with a good one. You'll change your mind then."
Alright, but do try to remember I only have about 5,000 years for that to happen before I pass on to Valhalla.
Reagan soon reached the old sparring fields and was delighted to find them totally abandoned. The fields were far less impressive than the ones she had visited with Thor and Fandral. The stonework here was far simpler. It looked unfinished, in fact. Unfit for the might of Asgard's warriors.
"This is perfect," she was happy to report as she took in the abandoned grounds.
A few tufts of grass burned here and there but nothing that could be catching - nothing that could cause her flames to spread. The open sky stretched out above her, with no trees in sight. Nothing hanging overhead. Not even wooden balustrades.
It was safe.
Reagan walked into the middle of the empty sand field, flexing her fingers nervously. It had been quite some time since she'd last summoned forth her powers in full force. Anxiety was rapidly beginning to churn within her gut.
Well then, shall we see what you're made of? Loki's voice sounded in her mind.
She swallowed against the fear. The anxiety. The threatening panic.
"Alright," Reagan murmured. "Here goes nothing."
She breathed in deeply as she summoned forth her fire. It had been so long since she'd done this, fully released her energy, and allowed herself to be dowsed in flames.
It was freeing.
Natural.
An honest relief.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to bask in the sensation of letting her powers loose.
It could be a burden, suppressing it all, at times. One that she had come to live with as commonplace. One that she wouldn't trade for the alternative by any means. Her constant control meant that she wouldn't hurt anyone else again. That strain, the burden - so be it, if it meant that she didn't cause more destruction... decimation...
That thought spurred her to open her eyes, looking down at herself to inspect how her new garments were holding up. And she was pleasantly surprised to find they were holding fast as if the flames weren't even there. Relief washed through her.
She allowed herself then to unleash a little more energy, burned a little brighter. Allowed her flames to climb towards the heavens.
Hotter.
Hotter.
Hotter.
Through her flames, she could see the air around her shift and ripple with heat waves.
The small tufts of grass which had pushed their way through the stones around her burst into flames and then disintegrated into nothing in a matter of seconds.
Reagan allowed another pulse of energy to burst forth from her again. Her flames grew higher. Scorching. Surging. Thriving.
She was all consumed.
She was free.
The sand beneath her feet began to turn molten.
And still, the leathers held strong.
Just as the flames billowing at the core of her chest began to shift to blue, Reagan sucked in a deep breath and quelled her flames entirely.
She stood for a few moments catching her breath, gathering herself, as she once again assured herself that she was in control of her powers.
Why did you do that? Loki asked as the last of her flames dispelled.
"Do what?"
You're holding yourself back, Loki accused. Why not push further? Show me what you're truly capable of, mortal.
Reagan stilled, her stomach plummeting in response to his words. Where she'd come to think of Loki calling her mortal as some kind of begrudging term of affection, this time it made her feel small. She tried to ignore the strange pang in her chest.
"I can't do that," she told him uncomfortably. "It's not safe."
There's no need to worry, there's no one around-
"We don't know that for sure," she answered defensively as she fought against the unease she felt looming like a shadow. "Th-there could be someone nearby, or if something catches and the flames get out of hand I-"
Then just quell them. What's the problem?
"I can't," Reagan said, uncomfortable, ashamed. She wrapped her arms around herself, hating how exposed she suddenly felt. As though she'd somehow allowed Loki to cut her open.
"I can't... control the flames," she admitted, her voice small. "It doesn't work that way. I can only make them grow, force them out, you know? I can't stop them from spreading or put them out or-"
Of course, you can, Loki responded rather dismissively.
"No, I can't," Reagan repeated, this time through gritted teeth. She willed herself to remain calm but her heart rate was beginning to quicken.
But I've seen you do it before-
"Loki, would you just back off," she snapped then. "I can't do it... Alright?"
She felt the way Loki recoiled slightly, surprised at her sudden aggression. It had been a long time since she'd spoken to him like that. She felt it. The way she stung him - the uncertainty that settled over him where she usually felt an air of confidence so powerful it verged on arrogance.
She loosed a breath.
"I'm sorry," she told him quickly. "It's just- It's not exactly easy for me to talk about this... I hate that all I can do is- ruin things. Destroy them. I burn things down until they're gone. It's-"
Saying the words out loud caused her eyes to sting with the sudden threat of tears. She blinked stubbornly, willing them away. She didn't want him to see this, this weakness of hers.
Forgive me, Loki told her gently. It wasn't my intention to upset you.
Reagan just nodded, not quite able to speak as she fought against the tightness gripping her throat, as she desperately tried to calm herself.
For what it's worth, I think you're wrong. Loki continued carefully. You don't just destroy. You saved a great many people in New York.
Reagan allowed herself a small, sad laugh. It came out as a rather pathetic noise - wet with emotion.
"I didn't save anyone, Loki, I just killed things... I was only there because I could decimate a threat. If it had been anything else - any other scenario - I wouldn't have been of any use. They wouldn't have even thought of me. All I can do is... Damage. Ever since this happened to me. It's all I'm good for."
Her heart gave a painful throb. She spent so much of her time fighting so hard against these feelings - these fears. She hated it - hated it - when they managed to fight their way to the surface.
Reagan... You can't believe that.
She shook her head, somewhere between frustration and hopelessness. He didn't get it. God, she wanted him to understand.
"If I have a nightmare, I wake up panicking that I might be burning my apartment building down. If someone startles me, I have this visceral moment where I pray that I haven't hurt them... That first day that I woke up on fire when I walked into that town looking for help... I burned children. I burned one man so severely that he can't even turn his head or else his skin will tear. I hate it... I hate it."
I'm sorry. I didn't realise...
Being here, around all these people who are stronger than me. It's been a relief. I haven't had to worry about killing anyone accidentally.
You know, you're more in control than you realise.
"I'm not." She practically whimpered the words. "I'm really, really not."
Reagan, I promise you, you are.
"I'm not, Loki... Do you have any idea what it feels like to be afraid of yourself?"
I... Loki trailed off, apparently unsure of what to say.
His lack of response was all the confirmation she needed. Her heart sank.
Perhaps that's enough for today. His voice was gentle and sincere. You should go and get some rest... You did well. I hope you know I truly mean that.
Reagan nodded, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
Dejectedly she turned to leave but then stilled, hesitant, turning back as if she expected to find him standing there beside her watching her.
"What did you mean?" she asked in a small voice. "When you said you'd seen me do it before..."
Perhaps we should discuss it another time.
"Loki," she insisted. "What did you mean?"
He let out a defeated sigh.
When you visited my castle. And you discovered the evermore candles. You took those flames up, let them combine with your own and then extinguished them.
"Yeah."
That wouldn't be possible if you weren't capable of controlling the fire.
Reagan furrowed her brow. She knew exactly what he was referring to. It was something she had done countless times. She could accept the fire as a part of her own - it couldn't harm her, she was no longer susceptible to its damaging force and so she could take up the flames. But that wasn't the same. It didn't mean-
"No..." she said evenly. "I-I've tried for years to get a handle on it. I've tried to suppress them. To force them down or... or destroy them. It doesn't work."
Of course, you can't destroy them, that's not how magic works. Flames are energy. But they're a wavelength that you are compatible with. Reagan, you're made of fire. You can bend it to your will. It's not about destroying or bringing ruin. That is not who you are. You know that.
Her heart clenched and fresh tears began to form in her eyes.
This isn't your fault. You were trained by mortals who had no more idea than you did about how Asgardian magic works. It was never about suppressing your fire, it was about accepting it as your own so that it could accept you in turn.
Reagan battled desperately against the lump that settled resolutely within her throat.
"Tell me how," she managed, almost as though she were afraid of the answer.
Perhaps we should leave it for a time when you're-
"Loki," she said softly, pleadingly. "Please, tell me how."
She felt the way he wanted to protest - to insist they drop the matter - but soon she felt the way he surrendered too. And almost unconsciously she stretched towards him up the bond, as if waiting to drink his answers in.
Stop treating your own strength as your enemy. You are forged of flames, Reagan. You are their master. I know that you fear them. But you needn't. Stop trying to fight them. Accept them as a part of you. You don't need to push back against them or destroy them or suppress them. Instead, call them back to you, draw them in. Welcome them. Magic is complex, but at its basis, it is about being sure of your own capabilities. Once you stop fighting against your power, it will bend to you.
Reagan's nostrils flared as she fought to keep herself calm, steady. Of all the things she had learned about Loki, there was one thing she was certain of; he was a patient and reliable teacher. If this is what he wanted her to do, if he was sure, then he was right.
"Okay," she said, breathing in a steadying breath. "Tell me what to do."
That grass over there. Set it alight.
Reagan turned to see a tuft of grass that she had not yet incinerated. She moved toward it slowly, kneeling down before it slowly before she set her hand aflame and settled her fire into the grass until it too was burning.
That is your fire, Reagan, Loki told her gently, as she stared unblinking into the dancing flames. It is yours. You control it. It is not something that you need to suppress or destroy. Just be steady. Be calm. You don't need to fight it, just summon it back to you. Remind the flame that it is yours. Command it to return to where it belongs.
Reagan reached out with trembling fingers and allowed her hand to hover just above the peak of the flame.
So many times she had tried to will them out of existence.
So many times she had cursed them. Hated them.
So many times she had been afraid.
This time, she called them home.
Her lips parted and her brows pinched together as she watched, unblinking, as the fire began to bend to her. It curled its way towards her fingers as if to furl around her. As soon as the flames licked against her fingertips a jolt of pure energy surged through her-
She pulled away almost violently and shot to her feet, staggering back as her heart began thundering in her chest.
"I have to go," Reagan managed to breathe.
Loki paused, confused.
What?
"I have to go," she said, a little more firmly.
She brought her foot down on the tuff of burning grass, hastily stamping the flames out. Her heart raced and some strange panic was blooming in her chest causing her breathing to shallow out, into erratic huffs. Loki felt it as it rose within her, not understanding it at all. He reached for her down the bond, attempting to calm the energy threatening to overwhelm her.
Reagan, what's-
She didn't hear the rest. With all her might she set the shields in her mind in place, forcing him out and turning on her heel to hurry away from the fire-tarnished sparring grounds, willing herself to calm down.
"Reagan, what's wrong? Tell me what-"
As an onyx wall slammed down, locking Loki out of her mind, he stood in affronted silence for a moment at an utter loss for what had just happened, before his features twisted into a scowl. He'd been trying to help her, so for her to just reject that- to discard him like that-
He wasn't really sure why he'd expected any different.
Had he truly been fool enough to think that she might-
He didn't even understand what he'd done wrong.
Almost involuntarily, as if licking at an ulcer, Loki brushed against her shield again. Fresh anguish rushed through him at the fact that now her shields were finally taking a more adequate form. He could barely feel her presence behind them now.
Loki stilled.
No, that wasn't exactly true. It was harder... but she was there and she was... in pain.
Loki unconsciously turned towards the direction of the bond, brushing carefully against the impossibly black barrier she'd set into place with a little more care. Behind it was a storm, raging, like nothing he'd ever sensed in her before.
What had he done to illicit such a reaction?
His stomach twisted almost painfully. Had he said something to confirm her suspicions of him after all?
Loki settled back in the nearest chair, his chest heavy with guilt and frustration and something he didn't quite know what to do with.
And he watched her storm rage on, helpless to do anything about it.