Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and reviews it is so, so appreciated! :)
This chapter got away from me a little and so I had to split it into two. So chap 10 is coming soon.
I hope you enjoy 3
If Loki was asked to choose the one thing he loathed most about the cell he now spent his every waking moment confined to, it would be the light. The harsh, offensively clean white light he was bathed in for every second of every day since the guards had thrown him in there. There was no reprieve from it. No dim corner to hide away in, nothing to find shelter beneath. Not even when night fell did the lights dull, not even a little. It was just endlessly, relentlessly, white.
Loki had begun to wonder if perhaps it was a torture tactic - Odin's indirect way of trying to break him - something that Loki might eventually beg for reprieve from. No physical torment, just subtle, psychological anguish designed to slowly drive him insane.
Well, more insane.
If that were the plan, Odin would find himself sorely disappointed. Loki, after all, had endured far worse. He would give the Allfather no such satisfaction. He was resolute on staying silent - not so much as hinting about his discomfort. Not to the guards, certainly not to the Allfather, not even to his mother - his sole visitor.
"I have done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Loki," she had told him calmly.
Loki scowled beneath the glaring lights, pretending he could ignore them.
Comfortable.
How could anyone possibly look at that stark environment and deem it comfortable?
Perhaps, Loki considered, it was all just imagined and Odin had no idea what torment the relentless light inflicted upon his prisoners. Perhaps it was all just ignorance of a so-called all-knowing king. After all, ignorance is what Odin seemed to do best when it came to his adopted son.
No. He corrected himself.
He was not even that anymore, was he?
He'd heard the words spoken at the feast.
My son and heir, the mighty Thor and the traitor, Loki.
The traitor. Nothing more, nothing less. Not a son. Not even Odin's great failure.
He was nothing to him now, not when Odin no longer had use of him.
Raised under the guise that he may one day rule a kingdom when all along he had merely been the puppet the Allfather had made dance so that Thor might have the illusion of competition during his formative years.
And now he was not even that. So here he would remain for the rest of his days. Hidden away, somewhat ironically, in maddeningly bright light.
A side effect of the light that he had not anticipated was a strange distortion of time. Loki had swiftly lost any perception of what time of day it was or how long an hour stretched on. The only clues were his meal times and the changing of the guards and still, he could not be certain if it were day or night.
And so he found himself relying on her to keep track of the nights that passed. Her mortal form meant she required frequent rest. It was probably a mercy to her that Asgardian days were roughly the same length as those on Midgard. And so when he sensed the edges of her consciousness fade, and sleep overcome her, mind becoming slightly more peaceful and a lot less malicious towards him, he was able to mark the passing moons.
Not that he depended on her.
Without the bond, he'd have found another way. This was, for him, merely convenience.
The mortal.
He told himself that his mind only wandered to her so often because he had so precious little else to occupy his time.
He most certainly didn't enjoy his interactions with her.
He didn't enjoy her dry wit and sarcasm, nor the way that she now often played along with his antics.
He did not admire the way she fought back against his torment with such stubborn determination.
He hadn't liked the way that she had boldly held Halvor's gaze on the night of the feast and assured Loki that she was unafraid, ready to set the man aflame in front of everyone.
A smirk threatened to grace his features for just a moment at the memory when another replaced it.
"I am NOT yours."
He'd clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes. Willed himself to remain calm. It wasn't as if he even cared, but who was she to think she could correct him?
She'd snarled the words. So full of loathing, even moments after he'd saved her. She resented him - hated him.
He knew all too well that she blamed him for the marks. As if he'd chosen any of this. Chosen her. Staked his claim over her soul. He'd done no such thing. He was just as unwillingly chosen by the marks as she was. He wanted no part of it.
And yet... there was some small secret ache, deep down inside himself. One that he refused to acknowledge. One he tried to smother - to kill - with anger and resentment and every other ugly emotion that endlessly coursed through his entire being ever since he'd first touched the Jotun casket and watched his skin shift to a brilliant shade of azure.
Hope, he'd learned, could be such an ugly thing.
And so he wouldn't allow himself to indulge in it. The hope that maybe, just maybe, he did belong somewhere.
Belonged to someone.
No, not him. Never him.
And of course, she'd loathed him. It was justified, after everything he did on Midgard. Perhaps if his match had been someone of Asgard - someone who understood just how sacred a gift the marks could be - then maybe they'd be willing to try and see him but no, it was almost poetic. Loki, the traitor - the monster - abandoned even by his own people. Of course, his own soulmate would be repulsed by the very idea of him.
"So, I guess we're just stuck like this for the rest of our lives then," she'd said with tears brimming in her eyes. "This is so fucked up."
Loki squeezed his eyes shut, willing the image away.
You are stuck like this, he'd hissed at her, cruelly. I have to endure you for a few short, mortal years. Wait you out. Then I'll be free.
It was an ugly truth. She'd exist for just a fraction of his lifetime. Even if she could ever find a way to look at him and see-
Loki didn't allow himself to finish that thought.
To know her just long enough to know that she too loathed him - perhaps more so than anyone else he'd ever encountered. To have felt the pure unadulterated loathing that seeped down the bond any time they'd interacted.
And then to have to watch her wither over a few fleetingly short mortal years before she'd be gone, forever.
Poetic.
Loki had made peace with this being his fate. He'd long since given up on the hope that the universe might offer him something good. Some small form of happiness. He'd resigned himself to the fact that he'd never attain any such thing.
Until he'd made her laugh.
She'd laughed, genuinely. And they'd joked and teased each other playfully and even when Thor had joined her at the feast she'd asked him to stay. And most surprisingly, Loki had begun to feel a reluctant warmth from her. Her shields were still far too weak to have held it back, and Loki was sure she'd never intentionally allow him to have felt it. But still, it was there - it was real - and against his better judgement, he'd allowed himself to bathe in it.
And as much as he resented it, as much as he fought to extinguish it, he couldn't stop a small ray of hope that had bloomed in his chest at that moment.
If fate had chosen him then why shouldn't he find some way to redeem himself to the soul that best matched his?
And so for a few days, he'd wondered if maybe, just maybe...
But then she'd projected herself into his starkly white cell.
And she'd stared up at him with a smile. She'd looked him in the eye.
And thought of New York.
And Loki had snapped right back into the reality of his situation.
It's all she'd ever see.
It mattered not, he told himself adamantly. After all, he was better alone. He was forged for it.
If anything the mark was proof of it.
His soulmate dangled before him, reviled him, kept separate from him, and all the while working towards ridding herself of him entirely-
"Stop it."
Loki opened his eyes at the sound of her voice.
To say that he was mildly surprised to find Reagan sitting casually in a chair in his prison cell, stirring him out of his brooding thoughts, would be putting it lightly.
He blinked at her, careful to keep his face clear of any emotion even as his pulse quickened ever so slightly. She couldn't have heard any of that. She couldn't have. He was positive he'd had his shields in place.
"Stop what?" he asked, evenly.
"Stop ignoring me."
Loki raised an eyebrow, feigning perturbation.
Reagan leaned back in her seat, arms folded over her chest, eyeing him playfully. Calling his bluff.
"You've had your shields up for almost a whole week now," she said simply. "How are you supposed to get rid of me if you refuse to pay any attention to me?"
She smirked at him just a little with that, but it was a bemusement he couldn't return.
"Am I no longer entitled to my privacy now that you've gone and learned an exciting new trick?" He gestured to her projection, seated opposite him.
He felt a small swell of pride from her end of the bond as she looked down at her arms, turning her hands over this way and that.
"It's pretty good, right?" She said excitedly, ignoring his question. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull it off again on my own but boom."
"Well, it does help to have been taught by such a skilled teacher."
She tilted her head towards him in acknowledgement.
"You know what? Credit where credit is due, you are surprisingly a pretty good teacher."
Loki threw her an incredulous look.
"Did you just pay me a compliment?"
"I suppose so, yeah."
"Barging in here unannounced and freely offering up niceties," Loki mused. "I'm beginning to suspect you've missed me."
Laughter burst from her. "Ha! One compliment and suddenly your head is so big it has its own gravitational pull. I'll have to remember that."
"Idiot."
"Asshat."
Loki glanced at her again to find her smiling softly, he cast his gaze away.
The pair fell silent for a moment before Reagan tilted her head a little, studying him.
"Loki, are you alright?" she asked finally. "You don't seem like your normal, antagonistic self today."
"Yes, well, it can be difficult to remain in high spirits when you're to spend all of eternity confined to a cage."
Loki had intended for the words to sound light, perhaps a little sarcastic. But they tasted bitter, and he knew they'd rung with an air of truth to them. Reagan hadn't missed it either, he knew it as well as she did.
She watched him silently for a few moments before she sighed and leaned forward in her chair a little.
"Can I tell you a little story that I think might help?" she asked, her voice gentle.
Loki's brow furrowed ever so slightly, unsure of why she'd ever offer him words of comfort instead of the scathing jab he'd been anticipating.
"Go on," he said.
"Okay, so about four hundred years ago there was a French woman named Julie d'Aubigny and she didn't exactly fit the mould of how people expected women to behave in her time. She was a real wild child. She took more lovers than goddamn Casanova - men and women. She was a really gifted opera singer but also an incredible swordfighter. And because she was so skilled with a sword, she spent a lot of her time in men's attire. She believed it was more flattering on her figure - apparently, she was an absolute knockout, by the way - and you know, it's probably a fair bit easier to sword fight in pants than in hooped skirts."
"Yes, I'd assume so," Loki interjected with an amused grin.
"Right! So anyway, Julie often got accused of being a man with a soft voice, because there was no way a woman could ever be such a talented fighter. Julie was by no means a shy gal so what she used to do was beat these men in their duels and then whip out her breasts to prove that she was, in fact, a woman."
Surprised laughter burst forth from Loki.
"Perhaps you should tell Lady Sif this story," he suggested.
"No way, I don't want to get decked!" Reagan laughed, remembering the untold tale he'd made her privy to on the evening of the feast. "Anyway, eventually she met this young woman who she fell madly in love with. She left her long-time partner to have a lesbian love affair with her, which absolutely horrified this girl's parents who as a result shipped her off to a convent to become a nun and devote her life to God. Basically, pray the gay away, you know? So Julie just followed her there and became a nun as well so that they could continue their steamy little love affair."
"Uh huh," Loki mused, still utterly at a loss as to where this tale might be going.
"The problem was, though, it turned out Julie absolutely hated the constant praying and cleaning so she decided to plan a daring escape for her and her lover. And here's what she did. She waited until one of the older nuns died, stole the body, carried it up to her girlfriend's room, tucked the body into the bed and set the convent on fire while they made their escape. The relationship lasted about 3 months after that before the girl decided to return home to her family. But thankfully Julie eventually found love again with a Duke who became obsessed with her after she stabbed him through the shoulder during a duel. She lived a full life until one day she decided she'd done all she could do with her time and she joined a convent again to live peacefully where she eventually died at the ripe old age of 33."
Reagan fell silent then and smiled at him expectantly.
Loki, who had been expecting slightly more to the story just studied her for a few moments, entirely perplexed.
"I'm sorry, I'm failing to see what moral I'm supposed to have gleaned from any of that."
"Oh, there's no moral," Reagan replied. "I just remembered I promised to think of a Midgardian you'd like and I thought it might make you feel better."
There was a beat of silence.
"You're an absolute fool."
"You don't like her?" She sounded genuinely surprised.
"No. She sounds insufferable. Why would I like her?"
"I thought you'd appreciate the drama."
Reagan huffed, falling back in her chair.
"Fine. I guess I'll just try again then."
Reagan suddenly stilled before scanning her surroundings suspiciously, as if noticing them for the first time.
"Hey... Where's your bathroom?"
"You're sitting on it."
Reagan's eyes instantly grew wide with panic and she leapt out of her chair as if it had burned her.
"Oh my god," she looked back at the chair, horrified.
Loki fought to keep his features neutral at her reaction.
There'd be no living with her if she suspected that he was in any way fond of her.
"I'm teasing," he said, still doing his best to suppress a smile.
Reagan turned to look at him and he nodded his head towards the only cell wall that wasn't windowed.
"There's a door there to the washroom, it's just concealed."
Reagan shook her head.
"You dick," she grumbled, though Loki was almost positive there was something affectionate in her tone.
"Why didn't anyone tell me there was a giant library that I could use?"
They probably just assumed you couldn't read.
"Ha, ha, you're hilarious," Reagan drawled, as she made her way down the palace hallways, following Loki's directions.
They'd been working on her shields again when, in what was becoming somewhat of a routine, they became sidetracked. Sometimes it was getting carried away in playful teasing or conversation - often it was squabbling - but today it had been the stack of leatherbound books in the corner of Loki's cell. Reagan had moved to inspect them.
"Ah, I see you've found a few books that didn't fall victim to me that time I visited your room," she smirked.
Loki had rolled his eyes.
"My mother has her maids deliver fresh reading material each week," he told her. "I fear what she'll do once I've made my way through every volume in the Great Library. Perhaps then she will get desperate and make a request for this 'yard time' you so desperately think I need."
Reagan had spun to face him.
"Great Library?" she'd repeated.
And so that's how Reagan had found herself standing before a set of golden doors, forty feet tall, decorated in intricate pictures of Gods who had long since passed.
"Whoa," she breathed, running her fingers along the fine carvings.
You're not even inside yet.
"Are you sure I'm allowed in here?"
Go on, mortal. Open the doors.
Reagan pushed open the door which surprisingly gave way to her with very little pressure. It swung open, slowly, smoothly, with a soft, yet echoing grinding. As the doors parted, the air was swept from her lungs as she stepped into the largest room she'd ever seen. Far above her, a glass ceiling opened up to reveal the stars in the heavens above.
Endless rows of towering shelves stretched out further than Reagan could see. Each shelf, towering at least fifty feet tall, was stacked full of leatherbound books, golden sliding ladders running along each and every one of them, all the way to the very top.
Glass cases all around the Library displayed books and maps and scrolls, seemingly suspended in mid-air, each aged and faded and beautiful, each more intricately decorated than the last. Massive chandeliers hung in mid-air, each adorned with countless candles. Fine armchairs of rich mulberry-coloured velvet were placed amongst the shelves, and beyond them, Reagan could see rows and rows of scholarly desks. The walls were embellished with vibrant paintings of ancient Asgardians so large that Reagan felt as if she might disappear into them forever. It was beautiful.
"This is insane..."
I believe we even keep a selection of Midgardian works.
Reagan gasped. "Really?"
She felt a trickle of amusement through the bond and followed Loki's lead down one of the countless aisles to find herself in front of a section of paperback, so much less impressive than the beautiful leatherbound volumes surrounding them. But still, an ache of familiarity swept through her.
Don't get too excited. I seriously doubt you'll find your beloved Henry Potter books among them.
"I talked to you about those books for a solid hour. I know you know it's Harry."
Yes, well, perhaps some of the details are becoming slightly distorted as I've been actively trying to repress the memory.
Reagan smiled a little.
"You know what? I think some small, crazy part of me is actually going to miss you when this is all over."
It was meant as a joke but a longing throbbed in her chest at the thought. If it could be over, undone, she could at last return to Earth. Her tiny little apartment and shitty furniture. Her worn-out jeans that were torn at the knees. Her trashy books with dog-eared pages. She tried to swallow down the want.
Evidently, Loki felt it.
You truly just wish to go home, don't you?
She ran feather-light fingertips over the spines of the books as she let out a small sigh.
"It is amazing here, don't get me wrong, but... Yeah, I miss home," she admitted to him in little more than a whisper as she plucked a book from the shelf and began to thumb through the pages of the book. "I miss cheeseburgers and TV and wearing hoodies. I even miss country music. And I hate country music... Oh, manicures. I miss those. Do Asgardians do manicures?"
Not in the awful fashion I've seen in your memories.
"Okay, well, that's a little dramatic. It's just a bit of nail polish," she smiled. "I miss my own bed."
I miss mine, Loki admitted after a few beats of silence.
Reagan stilled, wondering if he'd go on.
"What else do you miss?" she asked softly, as she took another book from the shelf and slowly turned the pages.
I miss feasts. I miss being outside. I miss playing tricks on my half-wit brother. I even miss frivolous things like watching leaves rustle on windy days.
Reagan made a small sound of agreement.
"I miss the sound that soda bottles make when you twist them open."
I miss the smell of log fires.
"I miss driving."
I miss my daggers.
"Do you miss your sceptre?" she asked, curiously.
Reagan was jarred by a sudden and unexpected tension snapping down the link. It was hostile. Almost vicious. She hadn't felt any like that from him in a long time. It sent a shiver down her spine. She felt so suddenly small.
She stilled, confused.
What business is it of yours? Loki hissed at her.
"What?" Reagan murmured back, utterly lost.
Her brow furrowed almost involuntarily in confusion at the sudden change in him. Her heart rate quickened, and she found herself wishing that she could undo it - step back into the past by just a few seconds.
Is it not enough that I'm forced to suffer your endless presence? Must you also provoke me every step of the way?
"I didn't mean to-"
Why is it that you insist on being so endlessly insufferable?
"Wait- are you seriously mad at me right now?"
You beg for my help and after I endure hours of you blundering along through child's spell work, and yet you have the nerve to speak-
Reagan's eyes grew wide as features contorted with outrage.
"Oh, you mean the nerve to remind you that you tried to take over my entire planet and would have killed me and anyone else who tried to stop you if you'd actually succeeded? You think I should just let that go? Pretend it never happened just because you've made the effort not to treat me like absolute shit for five minutes? Go fuck yourself, Loki."
You forget that you're the one who needed me. You begged for my help. Not the other way around. If you insist on being nothing more than a thorn in my side then have it your way. Go back to navigating this miss alone. See if I care. I'm done with you.
"Fine."
Fine.
Reagan slammed shut the book she was holding and stuffed it back onto the shelf before storming away up the seemingly never-ending aisle. She knew storming away achieved nothing - he was in her head - but still, it felt good to do something with this sudden spike of angry adrenaline. And she weaved her way out of the shelves she did her best to pull her shields up, and shame tinged her face, knowing just how inadequate they were. Thankfully, Loki seemed to have the same idea and she watched, somewhat enviously, as his icy barrier slammed into place. Unyielding. Resolute.
And just like that, any progress she felt had been made unravelled entirely, and Reagan was left with an ugly, empty pit deep in her stomach that she feared she wouldn't be rid of any time soon.