Massive thanks to all my readers and reviewers and all that, particularly SakuM183 as I couldn't PM you!
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I actually really like this chapter, which makes me even more nervous posting it in case you lot don't! But hopefully you will!
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To any Americans reading this!
I have just realised that I know virtually NOTHING about American culture. Seeing as The Avengers are going to pop up sometime within the relatively near future in this story, at which point Efa and Loki shall be moving away from Wales, this is a problem. So if any of you lovely people would be kind enough to give me a lesson in American culture: slang, common brands of food & chocolate & stuff like that, national holidays (particularly ones in November and December (although obviously I know about Christmas – but still, is turkey big in America for Christmas or do you only have that at Thanksgiving? (which I also know nothing about!))), popular TV shows that are actually on at the moment (we get some over here, but normally ages after I think), words that are different (like jam/jelly, sofa/couch those sorts of things), stuff like that. That would be amazingly helpful of you and make sure that when the setting moves to American soil that it doesn't just fall apart. Somehow I just don't really trust Wikipedia, and things are always more authentic when they come from a real person. There'll still be a few more chapters in good old Wales, but I thought I ought to ask in advance so I don't end up delaying a chapter with mad research! If you want to help me out then give me a PM, massive thanks in advance if you do!
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Chapter 12:
Nightmares
The small redheaded girl wakes slowly from her dreams in a small, deep green room with a slanted ceiling. She stays deep in thought for a moment before realisation dawns on her face. She remembers what the night was due to bring. A dreadful fear grows on her face.
Slowly she turns to the woman beside her. She is in her mid-late thirties, but looks much younger. Mother and daughter share the same wild, red hair. Her face is calm and peaceful.
She is dead.
Efanna reaches a hand to her mother's cold face and tears spill from her eyes.
Tony Stark sits at the table as Nick Fury drones on, but he doesn't hear the Director's words. The harsh reality of what has happened is hitting him and he can't deal with it.
"Phil Coulson died still believing in that idea, in heroes."
It's too much for him and he stands up quickly, leaving the room before he falls apart.
Steve Rodgers sits in the middle of a destroyed bar, drinking shot after shot but still stone cold sober. His mind replays, over and over, the moment when the metal bar peeled away and his oldest friend fell into the snowy abyss of the mountain pass. It was all his fault. How could he move on from here?
Bruce Banner sits in a cave, a long way from any form of civilisation. He clothes are tattered and dirty. He is shaking and rocking backward and forward. Every now and then he jerks his head and mutters as though trying to shake something off. He can feel the beast clawing away inside of him, struggling to escape, to be let loose. There's nothing he can do. There will be no end to this.
On the rock, at his feet sits a gun.
Slowly he reaches one shaking hand towards it and raises it to his mouth.
Loki hangs off the splintered end of the Bifrost, grasping onto his father's great spear. He looks past Thor to Odin and begs him to understand. He had the power. He had the strength. He could prove himself a worthy son.
"No, Loki."
The words cut into his soul and all hope is lost. He is, and forever will be, a monster. Hated. Shunned. Feared. There is no place for him here. The love he has always sought has been denied. He doesn't hear his not-brother's anguished cry.
His heart breaks and he lets go.
The radio cuts out and Steve Rodgers takes one last look at the photo of Peggy before the plane crashes into the ice and everything goes dark. He knows he'll never get to that dance, but his last thoughts are of her.
Loki lands face first on the rock, bruised, battered and exhausted. Slowly he raises his head to look at this newest of worlds. He hopes it is more habitable than the last as he can feel the last of his magic leave him after his desperate relocation. In one hand he grips the curved golden horn of his helmet, the last reminder of his previous life.
Suddenly a boot connects harshly with his abdomen. Normally he would not even feel such a blow but he is already weak from months of pain, fatigue, starvation and thirst. His attacker kicks him again and rough, too-many-fingered hands grab him by the shoulders and pull his head towards their owner. Loki's vision swims but he can just make out a hooded figure with blue skin and red teeth. Behind him looms a tall figure, shrouded in shadow who laughs menacingly. Then there is a sharp pain in Loki's skull and he loses consciousness.
Tony Stark's head is roughly shoved into a trough of icy water and held there until black spots begin to cloud his vision. When they drag him back out he barely has a chance to grasp the shortest of breaths before he's plunged back in.
A tall dark-haired man leans over the small redheaded woman he has pushed back over her desk. He has a knife to her throat and she is babbling hurriedly in Welsh.
"Don't think that's going to help you Doctor Bowen," he growls with a cruel smile before pushing a button on his earpiece which begins to translate the woman's words. When he discovers she is in fact calling for help and describing everything she can about her attacker, he snarls and slaps her across the face, leaving a trail of blood to trickle down her neck.
"You don't think your precious S.H.E.I.L.D. are going to get to you before I get what I want, do you?" he sneered, grasping her jaw firmly and letting the knife gently cut into her skin.
"Now why don't you just tell me, before this gets unpleasant?"
She spits in his face.
The man shoves her further onto the desk with an ugly gleam in his eyes.
"You asked for it, sweetheart," he mutters darkly.
Efanna knows what happens next and she thrashes against the confines of her dreams, screaming for it to be over, for her to wake up. She doesn't want to see this again.
A muffled scream echoed from Efanna's mouth as eyes snapped open, her heart pounding and her head spinning. It took her a couple of minutes to remember that she was in her bed, she was safe, none of that was happening. At least not now. But the images raced around her head and she couldn't get them out. The kick, the knife, the fall, the blood, the gun, the fear, the ice.
She shook her head violently and threw back her covers, virtually jumping out of bed. It was too much. Emotion was coursing through her veins. She was overflowing with it. She needed to get it out.
She grabbed her hoodie, some leggings and a pair of socks, it was cold outside but right now she couldn't give a damn. As a last minute impulse she grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbling a note to Loki which she left on the kitchen table before pulling on her boots and disappearing into the night.
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Loki's sleep was disturbed that night. His mind was racing after the revelations of the previous day, and, even more unsettlingly, his emotions were too. When finally he was able to catch a few minutes of sleep, his dreams were haunted by the images drawn in Efanna's hand, memories resurfacing that he had long kept hidden. He tossed and turned restlessly, wishing he was able to enchant himself into a blissful, dreamless slumber.
It was somewhere between the fourth and fifth hours of the morning, whilst Loki lay awake, trying to push his thoughts into some semblance of order, that he heard Efanna. Although his hearing was, in this form, nowhere near as sharp as he was used to, he had made mental adjustments to account for it. He now paid attention to the tiniest of noises. Whilst before they would have been nothing more than the crawling of an insect or the barest whispers of wind, now they belonged to more significant sources. Although he could make out no words, his ears could identify this new murmur as Efanna's voice. He let his thoughts focus on that for a while, glad for any distraction from the confusion of his current mental state.
Gradually her voice rose and Loki heard her scream and cry several times before the noise was suddenly muffled and he assumed she must have woken up. So he was not the only one having trouble sleeping. He huffed angrily, turning onto his side and punching his pillow, his thoughts once again turning to the dilemma of his host; what she knew of his life, what he was to do with her now and the disturbing ways in which her knowledge was affecting him.
The gentle thudding of her feet past his bedroom once again disturbed him, and only seconds later he heard the clunk of the door to the courtyard swinging closed. He deemed this sufficiently unusual to serve as an excuse to abandon his attempts at sleep, for if Efanna was allowed to give up so simply then he surely had the same privilege.
Loki,
Gone for a walk. Be back when I'm back.
E x
Several minutes later Loki stood in the dark kitchen examining Efanna's note by the pale light of the moon which shone through the window. Her usually elegant handwriting was shaky and such short sentences were a stark contrast to the energetic way she normally phrased things, even in letters. His brow furrowed and her dog once again shoved his cold nose into Loki's palm and whined.
"What?" Loki growled, annoyed that he had been reduced to talking to the damn beast.
The dog huffed and trotted over to the door, jumping up to pull the handle and pushing it open with his nose. Then he turned back to Loki and whined again. Loki scowled. So he was to be lead on some useless errand by the animal? He knew the idiotic beast would not give up until he had done what he wanted him to, he was far too much like his owner in that respect.
He sighed and followed the damn creature, pulling on his boots whilst it jumped up to open the outside door.
"If you lead me to the chickens again I shall rip your fur out, hair by hair," he muttered darkly. The dog just stared at him and whined again as though to tell him to hurry up.
Thankfully the creature lead Loki away from the barns, over the fields and up the hills. As their journey lengthened, Loki began to wonder where the wretched mutt was taking him, but he trotted ahead confidently, not faltering once and checking over his shoulder every few minutes to ensure Loki was keeping pace.
Eventually the dog slowed ahead of him and Loki scanned the dark landscape to see what their quarry was. He spotted Efanna by the tangled mess of curls which were spread behind her in the breeze, bleached of all colour in the pallid moonlight. She was sat atop a large rock, her dog now at her feet, though she made no move to greet it. Indeed she made no move at all, even as Loki trampled his way across the wild grasses towards her, even though he was by no means quiet. She simply sat, silently, her back ramrod straight, staring into the valley below her.
He called her name as he neared her, but got no response. It was not until he had reached her edge of the great rock she sat on that he was able to persuade her to acknowledge his presence.
"Efanna," he said, his voice low but stern, not appreciating being ignored.
Slowly she turned her head to his, her white eyes seeming to glow in the darkness. For once the night sky was clear and the light of the myriad stars and waning moon were reflected silver in the glistening tracks that crossed her cheeks. As she looked up at him, two more tears spilled from her eyes in quick succession; but she paid them no heed, made no move to wipe them away, just let them follow the trails of their predecessors across her face until they slowly fell from her chin.
Loki didn't know what to do. The Asgardians were predominantly a martial race; strong, proud and focussed. Even the women seldom cried, not even at the passing of a loved one; for it was seen as a sign of respect to those who had passed to show strength and resilience in mourning. The only tears he had seen in his life were those of petulant children or the absurd dramatics of jilted lovers; both of which were loud and extravagant, meant to draw attention and manipulate others.
Efanna, however, simply sat there, almost as though she were leaking. No sobs racked her body, nor cries escaped her mouth. She did not shout, nor scream, nor flail her arms and bang her fists. She made no demands, nor pleaded for comfort. She simply allowed her tears to flow from her eyes as she stared at him in indescribable anguish.
Loki didn't have the slightest idea what to do.
"Efanna?" he asked, hesitantly.
He hoped she might scream at him like the courtiers he used to bed and then ignore, purely to infuriate them; or cling to him desperately as the maidens whom Thor had treated in the same way might, hoping that they might gain comfort in the second brother's embrace. Then at least he would have some experience to draw upon, even if he felt that it would be of little use with this particular woman. Instead Efanna simply blinked, slowly, allowing another couple of tears to escape the confines of her watery eyes. Then she steadily turned her gaze back to the moonlit valley below.
Loki had never felt so utterly awkward in his entire life.
He scowled down at her dog, simply to have something to do, wondering why the damn beast had brought him here. Silence, which he usually found a comfort, here unnerved him. A part of him wished to simply turn around and return to bed, where the tumult of his mind no longer seemed such a chore; but his pride was too strong to allow him to run from anything, even a crying girl.
Thus it was that he tentatively and clumsily managed to ask her what was wrong.
She turned to him again and the pain in her eyes instantly sobered him. Such pain should not be present in one so young and innocent. Looking into the depths of her eyes seemed to evoke the deepest, unrelenting, soul destroying agony which was locked far within his own, blackened, heart. That such an emotion should abide within such a lively and seemingly carefree creature seemed indecent somehow.
"Efanna?" he asked again, without realising it, his voice was tinted with concern.
"There are many things I wish I could forget," she replied, finally. Her voice was calm but sounded dead. Each word she uttered was clipped and precise and spoken in a monotone.
She turned back to the view.
"I am not always successful in keeping them from my mind. There are times when they overwhelm me and I must allow them to break free lest I am destroyed utterly by them. Don't worry. I'm used to it by now."
The implacable acceptance in her voice moved Loki more than anything else could have. He knew of at least some of the horrors she was forced to remember. He had never been able to so calmly allow them to exist. They had driven him to the ends of his sanity. Caused him to take the lives of hundreds of beings and destroy those of countless others whom he had not been able to kill. And Efanna just sat there and cried.
It was at this moment that his opinion of her subtly, and yet profoundly, changed. He was no longer angry with her for Seeing his life. No longer was she a mere mortal who held no meaning and no worth. This was the moment that she became a person and not a creature. It was not to say that he viewed her as his equal, but no longer did she exist so far beneath him as to be insignificant.
Slowly he sat himself next to her and together they watched in silence as the steely light of dawn slowly coloured the sky. As colour seeped into the world around them, Loki had to admit that Midgard was not wholly without beauty. Mist filled the valley beneath them, swirling slowly, yet the air was crisp and clear at their altitude. Eventually Efanna took a deep breath and wiped her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. She hopped off the rock and walked forward a few steps, reaching up onto her toes as though she might dive into the sea of fog beneath them.
Loki moved to stand beside her as the sun began to crest the horizon and she turned to face him, her hair fanning out behind her, caught by the wind. Her white eyes held his green ones and for a moment there passed between them a shared understanding of pain and suffering to immense to describe. The air between them crackled and seemed so full of emotion as to almost be alive. They stayed like that for a moment, simply standing, staring, and feeling, as the bright light of a new day slowly crept across their skin.
"I don't hate you," Loki said quietly.
Efanna's eyes widened with a look of impossible hope.
"What?" she breathed.
"You heard me, I'm not saying it again," he huffed, turning his head away.
"You don't hate me?" she asked, slowly, as if she couldn't believe what he'd said, "Really?"
"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it," Loki said irritably, turning back to face her.
The look on Efanna's face was one of such pure and uninhibited joy that it managed to soften even Loki's hard gaze. A smile spread over her face, slowly as if it feared that if it moved to quickly the moment would disappear and Loki would take his statement back. When it became clear, however, that he wasn't going to, her smile rivalled the sun. Loki wondered at her. How could so simple a statement, not admitting love, nor even claiming fondness of any sort – merely attesting a lack of dislike – cause so much happiness?
"Arms out," Efanna told him suddenly.
Loki looked at her in confusion.
"What?"
"Arms out," she repeated, holding her arms out beside her at her shoulders in demonstration.
Loki raised one eyebrow but complied, wondering what this mad, confusing girl was going to do next. He was still surprised however, when Efa stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest. He froze, feeling a fool standing as though trying to impersonate a tree with her hugging his middle, wondering whether he was supposed to hug her back.
"Thank you," she whispered into his chest and stood back before he was able to do anything else.
Slowly Loki lowered his arms and looked at her peculiarly. A fresh tear was snaking its way down her cheek.
"I thought that would make you happy?" he asked, even more confused now by this strange woman. She simply smiled at him, as gently as she always did.
"There are more reasons for crying than just being sad, Loki," she told him, "Many more."
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Loki looked at her like she was mad which made her giggle lightly. Evidently he had never seen happy tears before. The poor thing was so emotionally incompetent that Efa was amazed he hadn't simply ran as fast as his long legs would carry him when he'd found her during the night. But she was glad he hadn't.
He didn't hate her.
The thought made her chest swell as though someone had just filled it with helium and she couldn't help but grin. Loki didn't hate her. Loki didn't hate her. She was probably the only human in the universe who could say that. She was no longer alone. It was currently taking every ounce of self-restraint she had not to simply jump on him and hug him until he smiled too. But she didn't have her gloves on and Loki had already made massive leaps this morning, one more might push him over the edge.
Instead she bent down and hugged Pip instead, who'd come to stand between them, looking particularly smug for some reason. As she wrapped her hands though his fur she Saw that he'd led Loki here, and for that she gave him a little kiss on the muzzle before standing up again.
"Come on, let's get back before I freeze," she said, pulling her arms inside her hoodie as it suddenly dawned on her just how cold she really was. She really should have more sense than to sit outside for half the night without more than a hoodie on. But then it seemed there were a lot of things she should probably have more sense than to do.
Efa gave Loki a smile and started past him, knowing he'd follow when he wanted. She'd not gone more than a few steps before she was surprised by a heavy warmth that settled on her shoulders. She whipped her head around to see that Loki had taken off his long leather coat and draped it over her.
"But-" she started to protest in confusion before he interrupted her.
"I'm not cold. You are," he explained before striding past her.
"Are you coming?" he asked over his shoulder as he realised she hadn't yet moved.
For a moment, Efanna was too shocked to move, but she recognised the little glint in Loki's eye that warned her not to argue. So she pulled her arms inside the sleeves (from which her hands didn't emerge) and stumbled after him, trying not to trip as the ends of the coat dragged slightly along the floor.
"You, are huge," she said as she caught him up. He raised his eyebrows at her and smirked.
"Not in a bad way of course," she assured him, "I mean there's no way you're anywhere near fat, you skinny little thing. But you are really tall. I feel like I'm playing dress up with Mam's clothes, only Mam's clothes actually fit me now."
Loki shook his head at her, his expression caught between being amused and cynical. Efa just poked her tongue out at him, feeling happier than she had done in years.
So do you like it? I figured Loki would be just as helpless as any other male when it comes to dealing with crying women (if you are male and are actually competent at dealing with crying women then you deserve a medal, as believe me, most are not!), and I thought it was kinda fun putting him in that situation, whilst at the same time making some fairly important headway in their relationship. This is one of the scenes I had planned out right from the very beginning, so it's very strange to actually be writing and posting it! I do hope you liked it! Let me know!