13 Magic
Once Doom returned to the castle, everything changed. The rooms were monitored much more closely, and there were no more opportunities for secret meetings, stolen baths, or forbidden nights of lust in Natasha's bed. Loki told himself it was just as well, since she steadfastly ignored him in any case. In Asgard when he abandoned a lover, Loki expected one of several different reactions. One, the most tedious, was a series of impassioned promises accompanied by tearful pleas. Another was bitter hatred and flaming anger. The third was exactly what Natasha inflicted on him, pretending he didn't exist.
Except no one had ever done it quite as thoroughly. It seemed she floated in a private bubble above the sex workers and grasping clients, uplifted and glowing in her tattered silks as she wafted from room to room, quietly cleaning the castle and serving meals. The sight of her went straight to his vitals, and several times he had to run from the room so he wouldn't go on his knees, beg her to take him back, and forgive his bitter words beside the lake.
In order to escape, Loki spent most of his time by the little statue known as Sif's Colossus. There he was just able to sense a spirit inside, one that slumbered peacefully in a shaft of dusty sunlight. When no one was around he tiptoed to the huge hall and contemplated the ancient thing, wondering if Sif truly slept within and if he could ever reach her.
Kronsteig lumbered into the hall in the middle of those meditations and shouted for him: "You there! Come and service me!"
"As soon as I finish an errand for Mistress Van Bardas," Loki lied. He darted to the old lift and hauled on the ropes, cursing Kronsteig under his breath. The return to his chamber brought the revelations he had tried to escape in the statue's presence.
Because once more he was adrift, with nothing to pin him down, not even a lover. Zorba, in Loki's view, didn't count. In the past he had Thor and Frigga to support him, and always there had been the promise that Natasha might appear in the water, entrancing him with her bright curls. Now Thor was imprisoned with no release, and their parents likely hated Loki for what he had done to Sigyn.
And Natasha…
Loki had gone through many cycles of chaos before. Each one had taken him to the depths, where he had to use his intelligence and trickery to bring him back to sanity. Now he saw this personal maelstrom he was caught in with no escape brought him close to sinking completely. Eventually it would happen – no way to crawl back, the final throes overwhelming his lifeforce as he sank beneath the waves for the last time. He gritted his teeth and curled his fingers around the windowsill so he wouldn't climb up the ivy into Natasha's room. If he did, she would be calm, sitting on her bed and intent on her private plan – one that no longer included him.
Through the open window he heard the slap of flesh on flesh, a whip whistle through the air, cries of repletion. The castle hummed with its usual business. Lulled by that unusual lullaby, Loki was able to let go of the windowsill.
In the morning Hundred lay in his bed. When Loki woke and staggered to wash himself, the boy followed, chattering about his night, the day coming up, clothes he wanted to buy, wine he could steal if Doom's guards weren't everywhere. "I hate it when that guy's around," the boy complained. "It's like we're in school with a shit ton of rules, you know? I just want to go and lie in a bath with you and 5."
"That will never happen again," Loki snarled. "You might as well face up to it. Friendships never last."
"Friendship!" Hundred jerked his head back, and his eyes widened. "I thought we were a family."
Ignoring the pain in his heart and the feeling he was about to abandon his very last thread of hope, Loki seized a shirt, pulled on a pair of breeches, and stalked to the door. "Family is not for such as you and me. Give up those foolish dreams, boy, before they eat you alive from within." He threw back the door so loudly it crashed against the wall and echoed down the stone corridor.
The sensation of being lost mounted throughout the day. Without even a chance to sit by the Colossus, by the time Loki went to Zorba's room he was thoroughly out of temper.
The prince lay face down on the mattress, heavy muscles oiled and shining under the lamplight. Loki picked up the riding crop and held it out for Zorba to lick. "I am in no mood for your nonsense," he growled, and the prince sighed with pleasure.
"I'm such a dirty slag," Zorba whined. "Make me yours. Make me love you."
His anger boiled over, and Loki brought the crop down on the prince's hindquarters with a loud crack, making the tanned flesh red with welts instantly. Zorba sobbed and jumped, his balls twitching under Loki's administrations. "Symkaria," he begged. "Symkaria!"
"Fuck this." Loki broke the crop over his knee and shoved it under Zorba's nose. "Behold my strength, prince. Do you think you have even tasted the merest portion of it? And yet here you are begging for mercy right away at one touch of the crop. What the devil is Symkaria, in any case? Fairyland? It does not exist."
"It does exist – Symkaria – lies to the – south…"
Loki picked up the broken crop and shoved it between the prince's jaws. "Enough," he said pleasantly. "Now show me you are ready before I tear you apart."
Heaving with sobs, Zorba pointed to a vial of oil prepared for them. Loki snatched the bottle and brought it sharply down on the corner of the table so the top shattered. He poured the entire contents over Zorba's quivering flesh and tore off his own breeches. "By the gods, tonight you will give me some satisfaction," he swore. "Now get on your knees." He pushed Zorba's head deeper into the pillows, positioned his cock at the entrance, and buried himself inside the man.
Moonlight instead of sun lit the little statue when Loki wandered into the huge hall, alone. Despite the new regulations he had found his way to the baths and cleaned himself thoroughly, although the debauch would never truly rub off. Nor would his recent cruelty to Natasha and the boy called Hundred, Loki reflected, and the tiny statue seemed to waver in the air in front of him.
When his vision cleared he saw Natasha stood next to him, quiet as she now always was. When had she arrived there? And how long had she stood, watching him? Loki waited to see if she would shout and rail against his cruelty, but instead she concentrated on the stone. Her long fingers spanned the top, and he imagined her touch on his own skin. Her hands, moving on herself – that night in her bed, so filled with illicit passion. He had never breached her, and yet she held him more tightly in thrall than if they had actually been lovers.
"I know how to free Clint, and I think I know how to free your brother." Natasha's voice was low without any trace of emotion at all. She glowed in the moonlight, a silvery fox-girl who stood as still as the little Colossus.
It took every ounce of Loki's self-control to stop himself from gathering her to his chest, devouring her lips, murmuring words of love into the glowing curls. "Will you help me, then? Even after what I said to you?" He hated the questions even as they tumbled from his lips, but there was no way to call them back.
"I need your help." Natasha brushed the statue again, and Loki couldn't help a quiver running through his prick, right up from the base to tip. "When we've finished the case you can go, and we'll never have to see each other again."
No. It wasn't what he wanted.
Yes. It was what had to happen.
Loki swallowed, glad the darkness hid his weakness. "All you have to do is say your friend's name," he reminded her. "You don't need me."
"But I have the strangest feeling this statue is very important." She brushed the statue again, and he stifled a groan. Her eyes flickered with a slight glimmer, and Loki knew. That she knew. That anything he told her was a lie unless his next words were: I want you, I want you, Natasha, because when we lie together all the chaos and noises in my head finally go away. It was the only thing that was true.
Loki swallowed again. "Then you are doomed to disappointment," he said lightly. "My magic is gone, stolen by the infernal wind-up doll you service…Natasha! What are you doing?"
Natasha had moved to stand behind him, just as he had stood behind her in the kitchens as she kneaded bread for the castle days earlier. "Put your hands on the stone," she whispered into his ear. "Because I don't believe your magic is gone."
"Oh." Disappointment spilled over him – he had hoped they were at the brink of some precious revelation. "Little fool, do you see light appear in my palm?" Loki snapped his fingers. "Or snakes slither over your feet? Several Lokis appear in front of you at once? Of course not – because my enchantment has been stolen by that damn pen Mistress Bardas carries everywhere."
"Lucia's pen also stole my name – and you gave it back to me." Her lips brushed Loki's earlobe, and he was unable to restrain a hiss of desire. "I think it could be the same with your magic."
"Natasha…" Her name, spilling so easily from his lips, and his seed would spill just as easily if she touched him, yes right there, where it was so hot and throbbing for her hands, those elegant fingers and more, her mouth, skin and the secret, hidden cleft of the exciting woman next to him in the dark.
"It's part of you, right?" The words were measured, precise, as if Natasha didn't notice Loki's rocking his hips forward to brush his erection against her wrist in the dark. "And I think you can get it back." She moved suddenly so she stood between him and the Colossus, facing the statue, and he couldn't prevent wrapping his arms around her waist in the dark, curling forward so he snapped against her round, delicious derriere. "It's part of you. Lucia thought she could steal it, but she's full of shit. They're all full of shit. Trying to steal our identities – as if anyone could take away your enchantment, Loki. Your spell are woven into you. Yeah?"
"Yes." Loki ground his aching hardness against her, pressed his palm between her legs, and nearly screamed when he felt she had nothing on under the robe. One knuckle slid against the wet slit there, so heated and fluttering against his touch.
"Yeah, that's it, baby." Natasha arched back, wound one arm around his neck, and moved with him in their own, forbidden rhythm. "It's part of you…"
It is part of you, Loki. Frigga had told him the same things centuries earlier, as they studied magic in her library. Under her hands the little tree filled with light had bloomed, and he had been enthralled with the beauty of it.
"It is part of me," he panted, thrusting into the ridiculous scraps of clothing between them. "It's part of my being, my little beauty, my tiny love, my heart's own darling, come, come for me now." Loki's vision went red, and he pounded into her as if he could fulfill those words, cheat destiny, and become part of the girl's flesh…!
His release ripped through him, weakening his knees and wrested a strangled shout from his throat. They bucked together, slippery and messy with fulfilled desire. As though fate or even Loki's own madness could ever keep them apart... he would have her, he vowed, that glorious mortal. Somehow, he would cheat destiny and have her for his own.
When his mind cleared, Loki panted into Natasha's neck. "I did not mean to be so loud. They may have heard us upstairs."
On cue a lantern bobbed above them, and Lucia's voice called, "Is anyone there?"
"Shh," Loki breathed into Natasha's ear, unable to resist cupping one breast and squeezing the soft, tender skin. "She can't see us."
Natasha held still next to him, and eventually the lantern bobbed away. "Just the wild swans outside," Lucia called. A sleepy murmur was the only answer – Doom himself, perhaps. Loki and Natasha waited in the moonlight, his breath heavy on her neck, coils of seed cooling on his thighs.
"Why couldn't she see us?" He could hear the smile in Natasha's voice as she asked.
"Ah." Loki held up one hand, and a tiny bubble of light appeared in it. "Because I hid us from her sight, with the magic you have restored to me. It was inside all along, just as you claimed. You were right - Natasha! You were right!" Excitement spilled over at the feeling of his magic, ripping through his body. It was like having a missing limb restored.
Her high cheekbones bloomed with satisfaction. "I thought so. Tomorrow we'll get started with the real business, and then I'm outta here."
He reached for her, to bind her to his side for longer so he could steal more kisses and promise it was all true, he meant every word of love that had spurted from his mouth during his orgasm, but it was too late.
Natasha had escaped and disappeared into the darkness. Loki's searching hands couldn't find her. She was gone again, and he stood on his own by the little Colossus.