A bargaining tool

"You should be resting," Loki said.

"I think of the two of us, you need it more."

"Don't argue with me."

"I think I'm gonna ask Thor for that muzzle," said Barton, but he hesitated as he stepped towards the door. Loki stared at him, one eyebrow cocked.

"Go on, errand boy. Go running to my brother."

Barton glared. "I'm under orders not to leave you alone with him," he said to Asta.

Loki's smirk had Asta itching to smack it off his face. "I'm surprised they trust you, not when I scrambled your brains so thoroughly."

A muscle in Barton's jaw twitched, and he raised his wrist to his mouth. "The Squire of Dimness is awake again. Permission to have him muzzled?"

"No deal. If that thing comes near me, I'll burn this tower to the ground."

The ground shook as someone approached, and the door slammed aside for the god of thunder to stomp through. Asta was very sure that was who he was: he took up half the room, with arms roughly the same thickness as Asta's torso, and his blonde hair and armour made him look extremely…Norse.

"Loki!" he warned, and Loki's smirk vanished, replaced with a scowl. Romanoff slipped into the room behind Thor and into the corner, her stare on Asta.

"Agent Barton is uncomfortable in my presence," Loki said, palms spread in innocence. "Perhaps he should be removed, for his own benefit. And someone needs to escort the girl back to the bed, so she may rest."

Barton made an obscene gesture in Loki's direction and stalked away. Thor whirled and spotted Asta behind him, then dropped to one knee, head bowed.

"Lady Alexandra, it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

"No—I'm not a lady, I'm really not!" she protested. Loki's scowl had deepened, and Romanoff had the beginnings of a smile. Whether it was at her own discomfort or Loki's annoyance, Asta wasn't sure.

"But you will be," Thor said, rising to his feet and taking his hands between hers. "Now you've been reunited with my brother, you'll be more than that."

Asta snatched her hands away and stepped backwards, all too aware of the way the two brothers were watching her. Thor's smile was genuine—she could almost see the confetti being thrown in his head. Loki's inscrutable mask had returned, but there was a wariness in his eyes.

"Thor," Romanoff warned, stepping forwards. "She doesn't remember him, she doesn't know who he is, you can't just assume she's going to agree to a happily ever after!"

"Then we'll find a way to help her remember," Thor replied.

"After all he's done, you'd just hand her over to him? He killed people. He almost destroyed this city, and she witnessed it. She needs protecting from whatever twisted idea of love he has. She should stay in our care."

"She's not a child," Loki hissed. "And she doesn't need protecting from me."

"Clearly she does, if her blood was on that sceptre."

Thor and Romanoff were facing each other, arms crossed, their backs to Asta. Thor's bulk blocked her from Loki's sight too. She backed up and her shoulder blade hit the door frame, the door still wide open from Thor's entrance.

"Everything Loki has done, he has done because she was denied to him," Thor reasoned.

"So you mean to use her as a bargaining tool?" Loki said. "Here I thought you only wished to see me happy."

"He needs punishment, not reward," Romanoff replied. "And you can't lay the blame for this on her. He knew what he was doing. He enjoyed what he was doing."

"That is not what I mean, either of you," said Thor.

Asta wore only socks on her feet, and they made no sound on the floor tiles, especially not under the escalating volume of the discussion. She had no intention of trying to escape again—she wouldn't get very far, not when the building was crawling with SHIELD agents. She just needed to be away from the arguments, away from Loki's presence, and have a few minutes of self-determination. Instinct told her they'd be hard to come by in the near future.

The corridor beyond the door branched off in two directions, and she picked the longer side, which turned a corner rather than ending another door. She didn't make it as far as the turn, because Loki was there before her, free of the chains. He stood with his feet apart, arms held open like he expected her to go running into them. A wicked smile graced his face.

"Now, now," he whispered, "we can't have this."

He reached out for her and she stepped back, but there was another Loki at her side, and when she spun around he was there as well—a dozen of them circled her, closing in. How on earth was he doing this? She backed away, accidentally stumbling through his outstretched arm, which was as solid as smoke. Realisation hit—it was just an image. Were they all mirages? Romanoff and Thor continued to bicker in the background—they'd have noticed if the real Loki was out of his chains. This was a trick. She could walk through all these Lokis and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

She threw herself forward, but instead of falling through the vision in front of her, she landed against something very solid. One glance up confirmed it was indeed the real Loki, and his hand was over her mouth before she could make a sound, his other arm snaking around her waist to pull her in closer.

"Shhh….shhh," he crooned, pulling her along with him, delight alive in his eyes. "Don't worry, their cameras will see nothing. Come, let us escape these fools." The turn in the corridor led to an elevator and stairwell. From the room they'd left, she could hear Loki's voice still offering dry commentary on Thor's vision for the future. He was better at tricks and deception than she'd realised, better than even her memories hinted at. They'd be out of Stark Tower, probably out of Manhattan, before anyone realised they were gone.

The way Loki stroked at her back where he held her did nothing to calm her fear. She remembered his strength from earlier, felt it in the taut body pressed against her. She remembered his casual threats to harm others if she disobeyed him. He might not plan to hurt her—not maim or kill her—but everything she'd overheard suggested he wanted so much more from her than she could contemplate giving. What would happen if she refused him? Would he take what he wanted anyway? Or would he destroy her for daring to reject him?

They were level with the elevator when it pinged, the light flashing above to announce someone was about to disembark. Loki tensed, and he lifted Asta off her feet entirely, cradling her against him with one arm like she were weightless, and launched himself at the stairwell door.

He might have made it, were it not for Barton coming up the stairs, pinning them in place. Loki whirled, setting Asta on her feet but keeping her very much tight against his body. Coulson stepped out of the elevator, his gun aimed at Loki's head, but his companion laid a hand on his arm.

"You won't need that," the woman said, gliding into the corridor. She was tall, though her slight frame probably made her seem even taller, and wore robes of vivid purple, stitched with gold runes. Her hair was nearly the same shade of gold, pinned atop her head in an elaborate twist, and her age was hard to determine—though her skin was smooth, everything about her said she was ancient. "Not with what I bring."

"You," Loki snarled, "haven't you done enough? You seem very confident I won't kill you all where you stand."

The woman reached into her robe. "That, my prince, is because I have something you'll very much want." Removing her hand from the robe, she held out a golden apple.