Chapter 27

Loki used his magic to light the fire while April collected the ice cream. As he sat down on the sofa she returned into the living room.

"Here," she said, handing him a spoon. "We can share from the tub. I can't be bothered to root around for bowls. Ice cream is best eaten from the tub anyway, especially in the middle of the night."

He was rather surprised that she would choose to do something so intimate, unless this was a common practice on Midgard. Though she didn't share the tub earlier in the kitchen. He frowned. Or else it was because she had seen his scars. He did not want her pity.

"You have done this often, I presume?"

She settled beside him, dragged down a patchwork blanket that had been draped across the back of the sofa, and covered her legs with it. "Too many times to count," she sighed. "At least, after David died."

No, he did not want her pity, but thinking of her sitting here alone at night, seeking comfort from her grief, she certainly had his, though it was an emotion he felt rarely, if at all. He found it difficult to care about others, it simply wasn't in his nature. He loved his mother, of course, and Thor, though his love for his brother could be a reluctant, grudging kind of love at times. One he didn't always want to feel but couldn't help, even now he knew they did not share the same blood.

He didn't trust most people but he wondered now, whether it boiled down to the fact that he knew they would not trust him. That he would always be seen as a man of trickery and deceit. But better to pre-empt their mistrust. It kept him vigilant.

"That was quick," April interrupted his thoughts, gesturing to the fire. Magic is so handy."

"It has its uses," he smirked, as she handed him the ice cream. He peered down into the tub. Its contents resembled a curious mixture of snow and sand. "What flavour is this?"

"Vanilla cookie dough."

He had no idea what that was but took a mouthful anyway, relishing the cold this time as he savoured the taste.

"Good?"

"Interesting," he mused.

"In a good way?"

He nodded as he took a second spoonful before handing the tub back to her.

Staring into the fire, watching the flickering flames, they continued this back and forth exchange in companionable silence, until the tub was empty. Loki didn't think he had ever derived so much pleasure from something so mundane, a monotony he would usually abhor. April seemed to have the uncanny ability to lull the chaos within him but it continued to leave him with conflicting emotions. He resented it as much as he was drawn to it.

She flashed him the bottom of the tub. "That's it now. We're completely out of ice cream until I buy some more."

He swept out his hands dramatically (more for effect than necessity, ever the showman) and conjured a firework display several times bigger than the one he had in the kitchen. "Magic well spent!" he declared, his eyes warm as he watched her smiling profile.

When the illusion finally faded away and they returned to staring into the dancing firelight, he braced himself for the inevitable. He knew April wouldn't be able to resist asking about his scars. In fact, he was surprised she had waited this long. What he didn't expect was the way she broached the subject.

"I'm sorry," she started gently, tentatively. "I'm so sorry."

He felt a strange twisting in his chest and couldn't meet her gaze.

"I can't begin to imagine what it must be like…to be…"

His body tensed.

But she stopped, unable to say the word.

Tortured, his mind said for her. For an eternity, it had seemed, over and over, until he had shattered into a million pieces, and each screaming facet had reflected only one thing - unbearable, indescribable pain. Until he had lost all sense of self and time and longed for death to end it all.

"I'm guessing the nightmare is related."

"Yes," he managed. They were less frequent now but no less horrific as he relived the tortures.

"Can you tell me who did it?"

"His identity would mean nothing to you."

"Then at least tell me why. Why someone would do that to you."

He didn't answer straight away, wondering how best to explain what happened with Thanos without revealing too much.

"It was a warning," he eventually said.

"What do you mean?"

"I…I had an accident of sorts…"

Falling…falling…through space and time…

"…and almost died. Someone found me and restored me to health but there was an ulterior motive to his charity, something he wanted me to do." He took a long breath, steeling himself. "I will not lie, he dangled a most seductive carrot in front of me. Something I had long desired. So I finally agreed.

"The torture followed my consent. A taste of what would happen should I betray him. I had foolishly…" (arrogantly, he reluctantly accepted now) "…assumed I had the upper hand but I underestimated the true depths of his manipulation."

He clenched his fists. And I, the master of manipulation! he thought angrily; shamefully.

"What did they want you to do?"

He shook away his demons. "No more questions!" he snapped. "I have told you enough!"

More than I should have, he thought irritably.

"Well…thank you for sharing what you did."

He gave her a curt nod and they returned to staring into the flames.

"Can I ask you a serious question?" Loki said at length, not liking the melancholy that had settled over them.

She looked at him warily.

"Do mortal men actually wear these ridiculous pyjamas?"

She burst out laughing and her beautiful smile chased away any lingering thoughts of Thanos and torture. "I have to confess, they were a joke. David's brother bought them as payback for a similar present David had bought him the year before. He's never worn them." Her smile turned sad. "And I doubt he ever would have."

Loki frowned, but there was mischief in his eyes. "So now the joke is on me? Your own payback, I suppose?"

"No," she lied, looking a little worried. "They were the only spare pyjamas I had."

It was amusing watching her try to lie to the God of Lies himself. He grinned. "Never fear. I applaud your guile." But he didn't waste any time using his magic to change the pyjamas to something more tolerable. A nice emerald green with gold lining at the collar, cuffs and ankles. "Now that is much better," he said with a nod of satisfaction.

"Very regal," she agreed. "Why didn't you just change them straight away?"

"I did not wish to disrespect you if they truly belonged to your husband."

She blinked at him in surprise. "Oh."

"But I am relieved that he shared my distaste of such a hideous design. Though speaking of which…" With a twitch of his fingers he covered her own pyjamas with the emojis.

"Hey!" She stretched out her arms, staring down at her sleeves. "Give me back my roses!" But she was smiling, seeing the funny side.

With a smirk, he restored her pyjamas.

She yawned. "Do something else," she begged sleepily. "Dazzle me for your ice cream."

"Tomorrow. You are tired. You should go back to bed."

"I'm fine."

He sighed. Though her company was pleasant he really needed to return to his book. But then had an idea.

He stood up and moved across to an armchair opposite, pleasantly situated beside the fire. She watched him curiously as he sat back down again.

"Lie down," he instructed.

She regarded him nervously. "Why?"

"You will see."

When she hesitated he shrugged. "Or you can go back to bed. It is entirely up to you."

"Can't I just stay sitting up?"

"No. The incantation works better when you are laying down."

She finally did as he asked, slipping a cushion beneath her head for comfort. Luckily, the sofa was long enough for her to stretch out her legs.

She turned her head to look at him. "OK, ready. Though I feel like you are a psychiatrist and I'm your patient."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," he threw back impatiently. "Just look up at the ceiling."

He smiled when she quickly obeyed.

"If, at any time, you feel afraid, you only have to tell me to stop."

"Now I am worried!"

"Trust me. You will enjoy this."

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