Watching Avengers again (going to shoot for 3 this week), I got a lot of inspiration. Can't wait to play with that.
I also publish a Frigga POV one shot recently, that will be in relation to later chapters of this. Check it! It's a persepective of Loki, snapshots of his childhood. At the moment, I'm working chapters 27, 29, 30. Fingers crossed!
-XXX-
The rush of battle consumes him. With a moment of concentration, a sword appears in his left hand, weight perfectly, attunded to him. At times like this, he misses his spear-so convenient. He charges forward, clashing with Rogers and his brother. Now that he's focused, he senses another, Barton, the one they call the Hawk, perched upon, looking down upon them.
"May as well give him a proper show."
Sword play had been one of the only things physical he'd moderately surpassed Thor in. When they were children, the older boy was constantly seeking to duel Loki, wanting to challenge and beat the younger boy once and for all. While he occasionally bested the younger prince, Loki reigned superior overall. Odin approved, but didn't spare too much attention to his son whilst Thor maintained his skill in axe, hammer, and bow.
Thor was a better rider, as well, but Loki had a way with the creatures. The elder prince made them skittish. Loki's calm nature, quiet voice, always cooled the riled animals after Thor frightened them with his booming voice and demanding lead.
There are no horses to utilize now, but the god concentrates on the knowledge of his slim superiority over his brother. Every lash has anger, ribbon-thin and fierce, poison in his blood. Loathing fuels him far more than any breakfast ( even, as his human would say over her breakfast flakes, a "breakfast of champions"). His energy does not wane, even against two.
Around them, mortals flee, some crying, others shouting. They recognize the Avengers, if not Loki. In a short period of time, their battle ground is clear of people, leaving the three men to fight unhindered. Not, the god muses, that he would've been. The humans need a weeding out.
He managed to vanish from before Rogers, only to appear behind him, lashing out with a ball of pure energy. A red, white, and blue shield is dropped with a loud clang, bouncing away from the ruckus as if personally offended by the noise. The soldier is on the ground, laying on his stomach, then rolling to avoid the sword. Loki stalks across the expanse of grass toward the man, gritting his teeth as the soldier stands and thrust him out of the way as he met with a charging Thor- - - an opponent he'd much rather clash with for the moment.
The fight turns into a dance between three partners. Loki is consistantly defending himself against the soldier and the elder demi-god, ducking and twisting, leaping out of the way of the hammer and skidding to bend away from the blue fist of Captain America. His blood rushes at the pace of a legion of stallions- - -he has never been a warrior, but there is still a definite rush as he battles on. "Let them come." His blade is a second arm, practically an extension of him. Loki relishes every blow, every parry. Oh, he has missed the speed of this.
He knew living in a city with the newest SHIELD headquarters would one day prove dangerous. Pity- - - he has expected them a sooner. But at least he had expected them.
Steve's shield deflects most blows, but Thor doesn't rely on any armor. He spins and twists out of the way, his hammer occasionally redirecting a well-aimed slash. The prince is sliced across the cheek, and howls. Blood mingles with sweat as the other god surges on.
"Asgard will be safe for you. You will face trial, and then punishment, but you will be safe. Father would not hurt you," he labors as he ducks another blow.
Loki sneers, twisting to avoid his sibling's strike. Their dance is a vivid series of dodges and blows. He's quite enjoying himself. Blood aside. "Of course he would. He owes nothing to me."
"You're still his son, Loki."
He knows what they would do. He would endure a trial and a mild punishment before being accepted back into the community, with pity on the voices of all. How many knew of his origins? They would "care" for the misguided sorcerer prince. But it would be all for nothing. The incident would be forgotten. He would forever be the King's little brother. An advisor. Nothing more than a prince.
Oh, how he would loathe that life.
Steve comes down upon him- - - -Loki curses himself for the self-distraction - - -and the prince strikes sharply. The Captain barely avoids what would've been a nasty cut to his defined chest.
The god grins. He is formidable in his own right. With a smattering of concentration, he creates a field of clones, illusions to draw his opponents into a tizzy. It is an old trick, one he has used many, many times, but Thor still hasn't figured out any way around it.
All of the shades laugh, mocking. "Well, Brother?"
A grim expression claims Thor's features. "Stop the madness, Loki, before anymore are hurt."
"I've not taken a soul today."
The elder prince's lips tighten. "Your woman may not be dead, but even you cannot deny she is hurt. She has been hurt by you."
"Tati." His reader. He snarls. All of his shades follow suit. "I have no woman."
"Would she want you to rule her world so?" The soldier spoke up, deflecting a quick blow with his shield from one of the Lokis. "Or have you got her mind on ice like you did Barton?"
Loki hisses. "You know nothing of her."
"Actually," Steve Rogers stood to his full height, gazing at the god with crystaline eyes. "I met her a few weeks ago. Nice girl. Sharp as a tack. I just can't figure out why she's with you. Seems like someone that bright would know better. But then again, it is you."
The shades surge upon him. "And what do you know of I?" one asks.
"I know she's a far better person, and probably deserves a fellow with some more restraint."
Another bares his teeth. "Better I than you, man-out-of-time. Have you missed the world? Is it done moving past you yet?"
"Pathetic team your leaders have assembled for this little hunting party. The sleeping soldier and Asgardian monkey." The Lokis sneer. "But I suppose they couldn't spare anything better..."
Thor ignores this. "Just come with me. If you do not, the SHIELD will take you, and I cannot know that you will be protected. "
Loki, naturally refuses. Asgard is no longer a home to him. He tells Thor as much. All of his shades fizzle and dissolve, their master standing the center of the walkway. His hands rest at his side, eyes dark, mouth a tight line. He is very, very displeased. The fun is fading quickly.
Broken tree limbs, lamp posts, smashed benches and trashcans line the path. The battleground. Not a human in sight, but he can hear them on the edges, skittish. He can perceive the city surrounding them, quivering in anticipation. They've suffered too much over the last six months to not be overly wary. It strengthens the god. Steve and Thor have halted before him. He can feel the Hawk tense, tighten his bowstring in anticipation. During the fight he had maintained a bird's eye view of the happenings. He was back-up, nothing more. After all, they'd all see Loki's uncanny ability to sense and snatch arrows from the air.
The Asgardian prince is trying to reason with his sibling, his arms spread out wide, voice low and soft.
"There is nowhere you can go, Brother," Thor pleads.
"Nowhere?" But there is. A small house, tucked in the rural countryside of a larger city. Yellow, with a red door. White trim. Back, to his reader.
Yes. He will return. It is a vow he must make to himself, something he shan't break, must honor. "Return to that house."
He must now, anyways. If they know where he has been, who he has been with, Tatiana is in danger. Danger he put her in, stupidly thinking he could protect them even in his weakened state. SHIELD isn't so cruel as to hunt her down, but if they needed information…if they hadn't already….
They would go to her, he realized, if they have not already. Especially if he were caught. A bargaining chip. The Avengers as a collective may not stand it, the soft-hearted fools they were, but Nick Fury would have no qualms about holding an innocent girl over a captive's head. The man is as ruthless, cold-blooded, and calculating as the god Loki. He simply plays for another team.
If he, Loki, does not at least make it out of the ruckus and to Tatiana, she might needlessly suffer at the Avenger's hand. And his hand. Because of him.
The thing is, the god is attached. This is his human. His reader. And he isn't about to let anyone needlessly torment her (save himself). He would win, or find ground enough to depart from the fray. He would return to that house and to her, and then he would hide. The only reason he'd been found was because he finally decided to truly exercise his powers. "It won't happen again."
He hasn't scryed her, but the god knows Tatiana lives and breathes. Perhaps she isn't in the best state, but she is alive.
The damned Avengers came upon him once more.
"Come with me, Loki."
Hope rules over his elder brother. Just as it did the last time Thor found him. Alone, in that desert-land. When the others came.
"No," the younger god finally says, revealing his wide mouth of teeth. He plays at glee. No need to let them know if his fear. "I don't think so. Thank you, Thor, but I've other plans for the evening."
And with that, he was gone.
-XXX-
He wards his home against them, after bouncing through the world five times so as to confuse them. Back in New York, it is evening. The city is dim with night, the streetlights beginning to buzz on just as he lands on his stoop. He still wears the battle garb. Once inside, Loki casts up strong wards against being found. No one would approach the house without a purpose approved by him. The Avengers may search the city as the like, but they would find no trace of him.
They might not know he was living in the city. He still might be safe. For now. He doesn't want to stay longer than is smart, but he likes the house, likes the city, and wants to bring Tatiana someplace comfortable. This place is a sty in comparison to his place apartments in Asgard. He's not about to take her there, though.
With a sharp sigh, the god waves a hand to remove his garments. Sweat (though, not much blood, he notes with satisfaction) saturates his skin. He bathes, then magics his clothes to cleanliness. He shaves, deciding he is through with the excess hair. Once he is dressed, it is time. A once-over of the house meets with his approval. Which might hopefully lead to her approval. She had a fondness for simpler things- - -no gold leaf or hand-carved trim, crystal light fixtures, or polished brass. The house he has secured will suit her just fine.
She would not be happy. But, for the moment, that is no large concern. He fears too much that outside of his presence she is to be at risk. He would have her by him if that is what it takes to maintain safety. He owes her. Loki has a debt to her. And not a small one.
It is a bitter thought.
And then he is gone, away to that yellow house.
-XXX-
This chapter is a little shorter. I'm not much of an action writer, sorry.
I must admit, it is a little disappointing to see an across-the-board average of 160 visitors with only about 5-8 reviews a chapter. Feedback would be glorious. Questions, comments, concerns, critiques, I answer 'em all. Thoughts?
Loving the support so far, so excited to update...we've got a storm coming. And then some.
Oh, I love twisty-turns.
~Dania