A/N: Again, you are all darlings for loving this story. I cannot thank you all enough.

I'm sorry this update has taken so long; it took me a while to be truly satisfied with this chapter. And now I have an idea of where I want this story to go, so that has me pretty excited xD

Anywho. Shall we resume our slip into the darkness?

Loki sat back in the chair, rubbing his thumb along his bottom lip. New York was a broken city, but he was slowly raising it up to its former glory. He had made it his capital, his personal domain. It was the perfect location – situated in the most powerful country in the world, known as a political and economic hub, and he could keep an eye on every other nation. Not to mention the glorious winters, which appealed to his jötunn heritage – though the summers could prove unpleasant.

Over the previous months, he had met with every single president, prime minister, monarch, and they had sworn oaths to him. He wasn't called Silvertongue for nothing. Ever the diplomat, he had spun veiled threats and warnings should they defy him, and they had been intelligent enough to realise that he was not a force to be reckoned with. Those who had opposed him, right from the start, had been incarcerated, and with no-one else capable of challenging him, nations had knelt, agreements had been signed and the people of Earth subjugated. As they were always meant to be.

It did not matter that Nick Fury and his agents were still out there. They had nothing to use, no-one to rely upon. Every Avenger was imprisoned – save Thor. Thor had run; whether back to Asgard or to his beloved Jane Loki cared not. He had outsmarted the god time and time again, and he would not hesitate to do so once more. Jane was a lovely, innocent thing, but her work was primitive. With portals opening as and when he pleased, Loki had no use for her, and had calmly dismissed her as unimportant, leaving her in Norway. After terrorising her a little, of course. Her screams had been so very beautiful.

Besides, there was another mortal far more interesting than Jane Foster. Loki's lips curved as the image of Eva's fearful expression lingered in his mind. That had looked glorious on her visage. Even then, she still reeked of defiance. Foolish girl. There really was no point to it; she would not unseat him, she had no power. So why did she refuse to accept him as her King? Was it pride? And why was he even bothering with her?

Well, that was a question easily answered.

He never could resist a bit of mischief.

Eva could no longer stand to read Norse mythology. Especially if it involved Loki – and most of it did, in some shape or form. Why would she sit and leaf through it when the two gods she had met had reshaped her view of all she had ever studied? True, Loki was a mischievous – evil – jötunn and Thor wielded Mjolnir, but the similarities all but stopped there. Thor had confirmed the non-existence of wives and children before she had entered the chamber. The eight-legged horse, Sleipnir, was not a progeny or indeed creation of Loki's.

She felt like shooting Snorri Sturluson.

That, and she had no idea what to do. She had no magical powers, no super-strength, no abilities. Nothing. She was, in a word, defenceless.

Except for her tongue. She could still speak, still counter him with speech. Yet even that wouldn't hold him for long. She had seen his eyes, the dark intent, the desire to bend her to his will. It wasn't just subjugation he wanted. No. He wanted to destroy her.

Once again she cursed ever going to the Helicarrier, cursed her rampant curiosity. She had no way of getting out of her predicament alone. But she had seen the news. She knew the Avengers had been defeated, yet whether they were still alive…

No. There was no plausible way of finding them. Loki had defeated them; they couldn't protect her, they –

Her eyes widened, and she let out a cry of rage. Protection? When had she ever needed that?

Since you got tangled up with him, her mind whispered traitorously. He's a god, Eva. You can't hide from him.

It had been a week since the encounter at the restaurant, and she was on edge almost constantly. She had no clue when he would make an appearance – and her nerves were starting to fray. She almost wished he would turn up, just so she could stop feeling ridiculously apprehensive.

Common sense told her that she probably should have knelt a long time ago. But she just couldn't. She felt no love for him, no allegiance, and certainly no respect. It was her pride that held her back, and her firm belief that all were equal. That, and he had taken the Earth by force. Not something she was particularly agreeable to.

"Eva, can I stick chocolate chips in now?"

Her little brother's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she smiled down at him as she blended the various ingredients in the bowl.

"Not yet, sweetie. You've got to wait till the dough's all mixed together, okay?"

Aidan pouted, and sneaked a few chips into his mouth.

"Hey!" she scolded, playfully tapping his wrist. "If you keep doing that, there won't be any left for the cookies."

He looked extremely dissatisfied, but made no complaint. Eva gestured to the bowl.

"Here. Stick your hands in and get mixing. Not fair that I have to do all the work when you'll be the one eating them."

He giggled as his fingers plunged into the mixture. "It's all sticky!"

"That's the point, kiddo. Now, mix!"

He did, very eagerly, and she held the bowl, not wanting the ingredients to fly everywhere. Cleaning her kitchen was not on her list of things to do.

"Slowly, slowly! That's better. Make sure to be gentle, alright?"

"Kay," Aidan responded, only half-paying attention. She raised her eyebrows.

"No licking the mixture, either."

"Ohh," he protested. "But it tastes good!"

"Mum won't thank me if you get ill. No sneaky licks of the spoon. Promise?"

He huffed, but gave in. "Promise," he muttered grudgingly.

"Good."

The cookies were shaped, placed onto the tray and the tray slid into the oven. The two of them high-fived, and after thirty minutes of washing up, lounging around and watching garishly animated TV, the timer dinged. Aidan all but hurtled into the kitchen, bouncing around the room. Laughing, Eva turned the oven off and pulled on oven gloves.

"Stand back, kiddo. We don't want you getting burnt, do we?"

The cookies emerged golden and smelling like paradise, and she left them to cool. It was only when her parents turned up to take Aidan back home that she placed a still-warm cookie in his hands and handed the plastic box of the baked goods to her mother with a wry smile.

"I did promise him."

"That you did," her mother laughed. Her expression suddenly sobered, and she hugged Eva with her free arm.

"Be careful," she whispered so only her daughter could hear. "I know you're worried. Don't let him hurt you, Eva."

She pulled back after kissing Eva's cheek, and with a smile and a goodbye, she and Aidan departed. Eva closed the door, and a chill crept over her shoulder, lingered over her like a lover's breath.

"As if you could stop me from hurting you."

She closed her eyes, and her hand gripped the doorframe. She did not turn to look at him. I can't.

"How long have you been here?" she asked quietly, the words heavy on her tongue like lead; she had a feeling they would be just as poisonous too, soon enough.

"Not long."

He said nothing more, and she forced herself to half-turn. He leant against the wall, wearing a soft grey suit and slim black tie. Dressed to kill, her mind briefly mused. Loki's lips twitched.

"My dear, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so all those months before."

"Oh, so I'm being allowed to live? How very kind of you." She was right; her words felt like poison now, so angry and bitter was she. "Perhaps I should fall at your feet and praise your name, then."

The twitch of his mouth grew into a wide smile. "That will happen, I assure you. You will look quite lovely, in your proper place."

Understanding bloomed then, and revulsion twisted her face. What he suggested… had her feeling sick, had her desperately wishing, as clichéd as it was, that everything was just a goddamn dream.

"You expect me to come to your court. To leave the life I have here behind. To be one of your playthings."

He laughed. "Darling, I have no need to dress you in the garments of a whore. That is not your purpose; whores do not resist their master. You do."

"Then what do you want of me?" she half-shouted, eyes filled with frustration, a need to comprehend what it was he truly meant. "What can I possibly have that is so fucking interesting to you?"

His eyes flashed, and his lips thinned. "Such vulgarity does not suit you, Eva. Careful how you speak to me."

"I don't give a damn," she replied coldly. "I have no –"

Loki had her by the throat, and her eyes widened as he gently squeezed. His eyes were dark, swimming with malice and sin and all things abhorrent, and his other hand stroked her cheek. It was only the second time he had touched her, and it terrified her beyond belief. She tried to turn her head away, but he tutted and grasped her jaw, forcing her to face him.

"Now. Will you behave?"

"Get your hands off me," she snarled. Her blue eyes were flaming, and Loki savoured the bite in her words. She was wild, but he would tame her. He could do with a little amusement, a diversion from reigning over her beloved Earth. He chuckled, and the pad of his thumb pressed into her neck, feeling her racing pulse. Mortal. So undeniably mortal. Fragile; I could kill her before it had even registered in her mind.

He caught her leg before her knee could slam into him, and he sighed. In a split second he had spun her around and thrust her up against the wall. His hand grasped her curls, and he pulled her head back, causing her to yelp.

"What exactly was it that you hoping to achieve by that, pray?"

She refused to answer him, breathing heavily, wincing at the pain in her scalp. He leant close, his mouth nearly brushing against her ear.

"You fight so much more effectively with your words, my dear. I suggest you stick to them."

He released his hold, and she rested against the wall, her heart pounding, head screaming. Adrenaline spiked through her veins; never had she felt more alert, more aware. She ran a hand through her hair and slowly revolved to meet his gaze.

"Do you see why I don't kneel?" she said, somewhat shakily. Damn it. "Violence. I don't take well to it. At all. You've threatened my family, shown me images of my brother covered in blood and screaming – a little boy who is not even ten years old – and now you assault me. It doesn't take a genius to figure that one out. Now. If you came here to torment me, I suggest you leave. Lose your interest in me. Let me live as I wish. And don't you dare go after my brother. I'm done with you, Loki. One defiant woman should not occupy your thoughts so. Especially when you have a goddamn planet to run. So go. Get out. And don't ever come back."

He surprised her by walking away from her and into her living room. His gaze scanned the area, and when they settled on a well-read copy of The Poetic Edda, he rolled his eyes. It was lying abandoned on the floor – he guessed she had thrown it across the room, and his lips quirked. Yet then he saw the photograph. Of her and Aidan. He made his way over to the frame, ignoring her outrage, and ran his finger along the glass.

"He is not your brother, Eva."

She froze a few feet from him, and her eyes fell to slits.

"If you are referring to the fact that he is adopted, I am well aware of that fact."

"Where does he come from?"

The question took her aback, and the answer was out of her mouth before she could rein it in.

"Eastern Europe, adopted after a war."

His back stiffened almost imperceptibly. It did not escape her, however, keen-eyed as she was, and she tilted her head.

"Much like Odin rescued you."

He whirled, and his eyes were icy with rage. Not filled with fire; just a chilling fury that made her instinctively retreat a step.

"Do not speak of things you know little of, mortal."

She raised an eyebrow, though sense told her that was a very, very bad idea. But she wasn't about to cower in front of him. Millions – billions – had already done just that. Not her. Not ever.

"If Odin hadn't taken you, you would have died. Would you prefer that? Somehow I think not. Though I imagine the Earth would have been a damn sight better off if you had."

That was cold, and she knew it. Yet she didn't care. After all, he was the one who said she fought better with words. She might as well live up to that. His tongue wasn't the only one that could cut.

"I would think that you would want your family to live, would you not?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't do that. Do you see? You get verbally bested and you resort to threats because you can't think of a decent comeback for I bet the first time in the history of ever – "

He started laughing, catching her off guard, causing her to halt.

"My dear Eva," he grinned, "that was not a threat. You have heard me threaten you before; you know I can be much more… intimidating."

He was an inch away from her before she could move, and his fingers toyed with the hem of her pale blue t-shirt. Distaste flickered across his features as he rubbed the material between finger and thumb, and she stared up at him, eyebrow raised.

"Yes?"

"This suits you ill," he remarked, his tone near dripping with disdain. "The dress you wore previously flattered you a great deal more."

Incredulity splashed itself across her face in a widening of eyes and a pinking of cheeks, and she made to back away, only to be thwarted by his grip on the fabric.

"What does it matter to you? They are mine. I wear what I want. Today so happened to be a day of relaxation. I could hardly bake in a silk dress, could I?"

His fingers brushed the skin of her waist, and she jolted, slapping his hand, trying to make him stop. An amused look shaped his countenance, and his fingertips pressed into her flesh.

"Don't."

She fought to hide a wince as his nails dug into her skin, and a low noise of mirth sounded from his lips. His head leant close to her ear, and his breath chilled her to the bone as he spoke smoothly, his voice slick, weaving its way into her mind, taking root in her soul.

"I do what I want, líttein."

He relinquished his grasp, and she retreated at once, her face white.

"The next time we meet, Ms Manning," he said softly, "you will be dressed in something far more becoming."

"Purely for the reason that it will please you?" She noted with satisfaction that her biting tone had returned. "Why would I do that? I will not parade around solely for your gratification. You have your whores for that, no doubt."

"Again, you presume much, little mortal."

Those words, repeated after so many months, had her turn momentarily mute. A wide smile curved the corners of his mouth, and he canted his head, eyes glittering with his trademark mischief. She scrutinised his expression, and when she spoke, she could not disguise her surprise.

"Alright. No whores, then."

He chuckled. "Such a human viewpoint. What is the phrase? Ah, yes. You breed like rabbits. Besides… my women, when I have them, are not so brazen. Not so petty, either."

"You prefer intelligence. Brain rather than body."

"Quite. Which will give you the answer as to why I continue to toy with you."

Horror washed through her, and she shook her head, backing away instinctively. A single word was all her closed-up throat could manage.

"No."

He smirked. "You think I merely want you in my bed?"

She frowned, and he chuckled, low, dark.

"No, Eva. You know what I want of you."

"To break me." Her voice was a rasp. He inclined his head.

"Yes. What I want, my dear, is to see how far I can push you before you shatter. Pleasure controls. Pain breaks. It is as simple as that. For you… it will be a concoction of the two. Both mentally and physically."

"An experiment." She was surprised she could even form words in her dread. The blood had drained from her face, and he advanced towards her, with the panther-like grace of a predator. His hand reached up to cup her cheek as she stood, frozen, and the way his thumb stroked the ashen skin was almost tender. Sickeningly so. He tilted her head up, and leant down, his lips mere millimetres from hers

"A game," he whispered. "One that you cannot hope to win."

"And if I refuse to play by your rules?" she asked quietly. He smiled a smile that reminded her of a shark about to seize its prey, and she felt as though she were teetering on the edge of an abyss.

An abyss she could never hope to climb out of.

"Then the game will become a lesson. Of the most unpleasant kind. You forget that I could quite easily kill your family in a single second. If you wish for them to live… you will play by the rules I set."

She stared up at him, her gaze never wavering as she tried desperately to search for a loophole, anything that would render his so-called game void.

But she found nothing.

"You will come to New York. You will take chambers at my residence. Is that understood?"

She glared at him, and an awful laughter lit his eyes. His fingertips lightly pressed into the supple softness of her cheek, and then he dropped his hand.

"Pack your things. Do not speak with your loved ones; I shall know if you do. You will be driven to the airport tomorrow. There will be a plane waiting for you. You will take it. You will fly to New York, and afterwards you will be driven to my abode. Is that clear?"

She eyed him warily. "Crystal."

His sudden smile was disorientating, and it made her head spin with confusion.

"Oh, and do not think of running, Eva. I shall only catch you…"

He vanished, and her eyes remained fixed on the spot where he had been.

Her knees buckled, and she hit the floor, though she did not cry. She would not be so weak, not now. She only trembled, and she shifted to sit on the carpet, hugging her knees. Less than an hour before, she had been laughing and smiling with her little brother. And now she had to leave him. Leave all of them, in order to keep them safe.

If it hadn't been so terrifying, she would have laughed. The situation was clichéd, unbelievably so. How many films had she seen where this basic plot had occurred?

And she had no guarantee Loki would even let her family live once she arrived in America. It was a fool's decision, to accept his terms.

But she had no choice. Not one that was viable.

She bit her lip, and closed her eyes as the reality hit her and the fear threatened to drown her.

By tomorrow, she would be utterly at his disposal. And if she wasn't careful… he was highly capable of ending her life. If she bored him, she would die. If she defied him too much, she would die.

Balance. Order, chaos. That was the way it was supposed to be.

But all she could see was the latter.

A/N: I hope this has satisfied you, lovelies. Let me know what you think!

Lightning xoxo