AN: Many apologies for the delay! Life caught up with me, and work has been busy ( Good? Bad? Still not sure.). Hopefully the next update will be a lot sooner!
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I hope you enjoy the next chapter! I promise things get brighter soon!
Chapter 20: Little Talks
Casting tired eyes towards her reflection, Eir let out a shuttering sigh. She had not slept in days—not since the soul gem had been reunited with its family. Though she didn't want to admit it, the whispers were becoming harder to ward off. Just as her body was ready for slumber, the soothing voice would return…beckoning her to give in. It spoke of a beautiful place—another world—free from the pain and misery that her reality so readily bore her.
It was tempting, to give in. The last few weeks had dealt its physiological toll on her, and the Asgardian wanted nothing more than for it to be over. And when she finally had a chance to sleep—when the whispers finally stood at bay for a moment—she was plagued by something worse. The night had painted horrid memories in her slumber, and had forced her to remember the best and worst times in her life.
And she wanted to scream.
Picking up a hairbrush, the Goddess cast her eyes towards the dark scar on her hand. It stood as a reminder that the threat of the stone was real. It stood as a reminder that if she gave into the voice, if she allowed herself to get the sleep she needed, she would not survive. Unlike last time, she was alone now…she didn't have someone to save her from the unknown.
Brushing her dark hair, the woman gritted her teeth as she thought of her savior. She was mindless for saving him—absolutely daft. She had nothing to prove to Thor, and no one would have thought less of her for leaving his pathetic soul to rot on Asgard. Since his return, he had done nothing but spit venomous threats her way. He had done nothing but wish her dead and force her to watch him kill. To think that she was mindless enough to save him because of some promise made her sick.
But as she gazed down at her hand again, she was reminded of how his eyes looked when she was attacked by the stone. There was a flicker of compassion in them, and when he touched his fingers to her bleeding hand she could have sworn he cared. When SHIELD had beaten her she could have sworn she heard heartbreak in his cracking voice.
She could have sworn she saw him crying.
Gritting her teeth again, she threw the brush across the bathroom. It was dangerous thinking of him as anything other than the monster he was. Her memories may have reminded her of the good man he once had been, but they also reopened the devastating wounds he caused her. No matter how much he may have meant to her at one time, she had to remind herself that this was not the Loki she knew best.
This one was a monster in every sense of the word.
Covering up the circles under her eyes, Eir wanted to cry at her reflection. She wanted to scream that she was forced to fight this impossible battle against Loki and his sickness. She wanted to scream that she was forced to pretend like everything was all right—wanted to scream because she was tired of lying to Thor.
Loki was never going to get better; the small glimmers of hope she had seen were just her mind playing tricks. The look of concern in his eyes was simply her heart wishing it to be so. He didn't care who he hurt, or how he did it. She had realized the hard way that he cared only about himself—cared only about power and the throne. And though she so desperately wanted the Loki she once knew back…
She knew he was as good as dead.
Loki looked down to the silver door handle that now faced him again. After the unusual dreams had interrupted his slumber, he was powerless to forget the images and words he had been victim to. They were memories that he had tried to throw away—memories that harbored emotions that he no longer had need of—but despite all of his mental blocks, they kept seeping back.
While he had been falling from Asgard and traversing the great expanse of the universe, he had come to realize that it would be best to only rely on himself. He had decided that after his family had hurt him—after his family had deceived him in the most devastating of ways—that he was no longer in need of anyone else. If he kept himself alone he wouldn't be forced to bear the heavy emotions that came with disappointment and he could escape the inevitable pain company brought him.
He had been doing well, too. By attempting murder, by destroying cities, and selling his soul to some questionable characters, the prince had thought he had fully eradicated any semblance of the man he once was. In doing so, he hoped that it would only push the others away—make them hate him—and he would be free from their wretched attachments for good. A life free from emotional attachments would only make him stronger, and he would use that power to show all of Asgard that he wasn't second best.
But like so many of his schemes, fate had foiled it. Thor, despite all logic, claimed to love him. Despite sending the destroyer after him and despite trying to level Midgard, Thor's allegiance remained unwaivered. To his mind, Loki couldn't comprehend what kept Thor bound to him. He couldn't understand how his brother could forgive a monster.
And yet it wasn't just Thor who demonstrated this behavior—no. The Asgardian who was behind the door had also baffled the ever-calculating prince. Of everyone she perhaps had the best reason to hate him, and yet her actions suggested otherwise. How she could have felt anything for him with the knowledge of his true birth was beyond him. In seeing his memory with wiser eyes, it was clear that the doctor had known he was not of Asgard all along—and that, for reasons he couldn't articulate, pained him in the worst ways.
Finally taking a breath, the man put his hands to the silver handle and gave it a fateful turn. Blinking a few times, green eyes scanned the seemingly empty room. It looked very much like his—plain, and nothing like Asgard. The bed was neatly made, and a pair of small shoes sat untouched at his feet. Swallowing hard, the prince could feel his heartbeat quicken as he heard the closing of a door from the other edge of the guest room.
"So you are here." He sighed gratefully, "I feared I had missed you."
To his disappointment, the woman just avoided his gaze. Almost mechanically, he watched as she put on a sweater and walked over to attend to the lonely shoes—the silence between them deafening. Letting out a frustrated sigh, the prince put a firm hand on her shoulder to stop her from walking away.
"I need to speak with you." He insisted, "Tis about—"
As she turned around to face him, however, Loki was once again attacked by a wave of overwhelming grief. He could tell that she was trying to hide it—but his sharp eyes knew right away that she had been crying. The spark in her metallic eyes that he once knew well was blank—seemingly devoid of any light. What was standing before him was something much colder than the figure he remembered in his dream.
"Are you alright?" he whispered worriedly, "You look as though you haven't slept."
To this, he watched as the woman just looked away from him.
"Of what importance is it to you, my Lord?"
Blinking a few times in confusion, Loki watched as she walked away and put her shoes on.
"I wish not to see you hurt." He insisted, "If you are unwell—"
He was interrupted by a bitter laugh.
"I thought you wished me dead." She muttered, lacing her shoe tightly, "I remember well you screaming that you hated me. I remember you wishing I had died in the snow."
Loki was silent as she continued.
"I remember those mortals beating me half to death before you overcame your selfish pride." She added angrily, "Don't speak now like you care."
Swallowing hard, the prince could feel the words from her lips cut into him like a knife. He had never heard her speak with such hatred, and for some reason it devastated him knowing it was directed towards him. The words didn't hurt because she was mad at him—no—they hurt because they were true.
"You must know I didn't mean what I said."
Loki cringed at the weakness of his own words. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to simply apologize. Even now, he couldn't simply say he was sorry for everything he had done. As such, he was not surprised when the woman just shook her head and dismissed his words.
"Why are you here?" she demanded, "In case you are too daft to tell, I don't want to see you."
The prince could feel a shiver down his spine as the chill of her words reached him. Closing his eyes in thought for a moment, he sighed. Standing in front of her now, all the fears from the other day came rushing back. He felt childish for feeling this way; he was a prince, and was not used to feeling so small. But as he heard the venom in her voice, and as he saw the hatred in her eyes, he knew he couldn't do it.
He couldn't say it.
"I know not." He lied, "I thought—"
"I know." She interrupted, "You came seeking forgiveness."
To this, he was silent.
"Tis obvious, really." She mused, "One would have to be blind not to see the guilt painted on your face."
Loki gritted his teeth as she spoke. It was uncomfortable having her so easily read him. He felt exposed—and he wanted to scream at the fact that she knew him so well.
"The true question is though—why do you want it?" she asked, finally looking into his eyes, "Do you desire it because you are truly sorry?"
Her eyes remained fixed on his for a moment.
"Or is it because you realize you are alone?"
Feeling his breath catch in his chest, the man knew she was right. Though he had been denying it, the realization that he had no one left was shaking him. Though he claimed it didn't bother him, the notion that no one would mourn his death when it finally came by Thanos's hand upset him. It upset him to look back into memories of a time gone by and see everything he was lacking now.
"I…I don't know." He decided, "Both, perhaps."
To this, he watched as she shook her head and pushed past him to the door. Closer now, he could see the redness in her eyes and the bitten lips. What stood next to him was a shell of the woman he saw in his dream—his desire for the throne had effectively destroyed the Eir he once knew well.
"Well, once you return to Asgard how about you mull it over with Sigyn." She spat while opening the door, "I'm sure your betrothed can help you sort out your dilemma much better than I."
And with that she was gone.
Leaving him standing silent in her doorway.
Sif rubbed her forehead as she poured herself a cup of coffee. She didn't know what was in the drink that made her wake up, but whatever it was she needed it. For some reason her sleep had been jolted time and time again by bizarre memories. They were littered with images of glorious battles and cheers from proud Asgardians. She could still taste fantastic food and hear the music of a thousand festivals.
They were glorious memories, most of them. But within them she was reminded of the times her and Thor spent together. She was reminded of all the looks she thought once meant something and the smiles he'd send to her from across the battlefields. She could remember the dances and how her heart skipped when his hand met hers—a blush on her face as he twirled her to the music.
But when morning came it was over. She did not find herself on Asgard—she did not find herself surrounded by splendor. Instead, the memories were replaced with the dismal situation she now found herself in. She was forced to watch Thor give Jane the same smiles from her dream.
It was torture.
"Hey, did anyone else have weird dreams?" Darcy asked walking in, "I mean, it could have been the midnight snack I ate. I didn't trust it and—"
Sif could feel the weight of a shocked silence at the table. As she looked into the eyes of the Warriors Three and Thor, she could tell that they too hard weird visions.
"I fear mine wasn't exactly weird." Frandall remembered wistfully, "Pleasant, almost. A particularly attractive blonde and I after a party—"
"Don't elaborate, please." Hogun interrupted, "But yes, Lady Darcy."
"Weird." The girl muttered, pop tart in hand, "I was forced to remember a few college experiences I really—"
"Please, don't." Jane insisted, rubbing her forehead, "So we all had weird dreams. It was probably something we all ate. Not a big deal."
But before anyone could comment about the experiences further, Sif noticed that the scientist walked in the room. She had been told that the man could turn into an unstoppable monster in an instant, and every time he walked into a room she felt a shiver down her spine. For now, at least, he appeared harmless enough.
"Actually, it was a big deal." Bruce muttered, "Kate accidently left the gem responsible for time out. She has done nothing but apologize all morning, but as long as no one's hurt, I'm happy."
The warrior goddess laughed a little to herself. Though he spoke of injury, she knew well that memories were not painless. They may not leave horrid scars on the body, but the pain they caused the mind was often unbearable.
"Kate and I are working on the last stone now." Bruce explained, "We have already started feeling ill, so it is imperative that you let me know of any side-effects."
To this, Sif swallowed hard; Eir had told her the trouble the Soul Gem had caused her, and it scared her to think that all of their minds could become vulnerable to it. The gem was capable of much more than bad dreams—the doctor claimed she nearly lost her mind.
"After our analysis is complete, we should be able to weaponize them effectively." Bruce added, "Whoever is behind this threat won't stand much of a chance."
There was a silence amongst them for a moment before Thor spoke softy.
"And where is that threat, good Heimdall?"
Sif lifted her eyes towards the gatekeeper's worried face.
"Close." He admitted, "I am blinded to the true power behind it, but tis close. Uncomfortably so."
"Then we will work quickly." Bruce decided, picking up his drink, "Very sorry again about everything!"
The warrior watched as the man shuffled out of the dining room, balancing a plate of food and making his way back towards what Sif knew was the lab. The notion that the threat was close unnerved her. Whoever was behind this was more powerful than anything they had ever faced—and the idea that some of the people she was sitting with could be dead in the coming days was maddening. But before she could fall victim to the thoughts of a battle drawing near, she caught eye of another Asgardian buttoning up a jacket and walking through the room.
"Where do you think you're going, House?" Tony smirked, eating a doughnut, "What, breakfast not good enough for you?"
Sif could see the exhaustion in the doctor's eyes as she gave Iron Man a weak smile and shook her head.
"I simply wish to see the city." Eir lied, "I assure you, Mr. Stark, morning meal has always been lovely."
But before Sif could offer to go with her, the mortal next to Thor sat up from her seat and beamed a bright smile at the pale looking Eir.
"Perfect!" Jane grinned, "I'll go with you. I actually wanted to talk to you, anyway!"
Narrowing her eyes towards the mortal, Sif watched as Jane gave a hesitant kiss to Thor, and wished them all goodbye. The warrior could see awkwardness in the smile she gave Eir, and noticed her obvious nervousness when she walked out of the room. Whatever she wanted to speak with Eir about was something important, and considering the mortal appeared to be in perfect health…
She knew it had nothing to do with medicine.
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