"Loki!"
"Yes?"
"You have a castle."
Reagan had once again appeared unannounced in Loki's cell while he was seated on his bed with his feet up, thumbing through a book, idly trying to pass the time. It had become such a common occurrence these days that Loki could no longer muster the energy to be annoyed by it. This time she came holding an ancient-looking textbook. It was so thick that she seemed to actually be struggling to hold it up, but the look on her face indicated that she was far too excited to care. Despite his best efforts, the sight caused a small grin to break past his composure.
"I do," he confirmed as he continued to watch her struggle.
She just stared at him for a moment, as if she was expecting more.
"You have a whole, entire castle," she then emphasised, as though he perhaps hadn't heard her correctly the first time.
"Yes, I'm aware."
"You have your own whole, entire castle," she pressed once more, stabbing her finger pointedly into the page she had opened in the massive book.
"I'm royalty," he said simply, as though it was obvious. A clear explanation for the entire situation.
Reagan set the book down at last with a dramatic huff, shaking her arms in an attempt to get her circulation moving again. She then set her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, accusingly.
"I suppose because it's not something I go around telling people," Loki said simply.
"Why not? You own a castle. I mean, I brag to people about my phone case."
Loki smirked.
"Yes, I'm sure you do."
He watched as Reagan moved towards him and sat down on the end of his bed; another thing he'd long since given up protesting. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and anticipation seemed to radiate from her. If Loki weren't so thoroughly impervious to such things, he might have found it mildly infectious.
"Can I go see it?" she asked him hopefully.
Reagan stared out across the crystal-clear water as the Skiff she'd hired jetted out away from Odin's golden, looming palace. She breathed in deeply, appreciating the cool, fresh, salty air as her hair whipped around her freely. For what was not the first time, she glanced over to find her escort - the man steering the Skiff - watching her, before quickly glancing away, tension evident in his entire frame. She'd seen it in him the moment she'd showed him the map of where she wanted to be taken, the way his expression had darkened even as he'd nodded stiffly to her. The way his gaze flicked down to her sleeve-covered arms.
She'd felt Loki's hesitation in that moment.
Word will get out about this, he'd told her, clearly uncertain of what her reaction might be.
Reagan had only shrugged.
Too late now anyway, she'd told him as she'd boarded the Skiff.
In all honesty, she didn't really see what the big deal was this time. It's not like Loki was going to be there - it's not like she was going to visit him. And, well, who wouldn't want to go explore an abandoned castle?
When she caught the boatman glance at her and then away again, she couldn't hold back a slightly weary sigh. She leaned her elbow onto the edge of the Skiff and balanced her chin on her fist, returning her attention to the horizon.
He certainly doesn't say much, she commented to Loki, trying and failing to hide her own discomfort from him.
Of course, he does, Loki responded, lightly. You're just not paying attention to him, the poor soul.
Reagan's brow furrowed and she turned back to look up at the boatman again, confused. Had he been making an attempt to speak to her that she'd just been ignoring? Was that why he seemed so ill at ease around her. She watched him for a few moments before Loki's low, sing-song voice echoed in her mind.
I am a ventriloquist, ventriloquist, ventriloquist. I am a ventriloquist and I practice every day.
Reagan whipped back to face the water as quick as she could to hide her smile from the boatman.
You're a moron, she told him, a clear warmth in the words. You know I'm going to need you to teach me how to drive one of these things, right? So that I can avoid these kinds of interactions in the future.
I ought to start charging you for all these lessons you request of me.
Sure, put it on my tab. I'll settle my bill when you get out of lock-up, she teased.
Oh, hilarious.
Thank you.
It was then that Reagan felt the Skiff begin to slow and she looked up, watching as they drew closer to a looming cliff face. Atop it, jutting out over the water and bathed in the warm light of the late-afternoon sun, stood a towering castle. A massive, spiralling staircase was carved into the cliff, from the very base, right up to the castle steps. The spray of the ocean air had weathered the graphite-coloured walls, making it look age-worn on the side facing the water. The light played across the turrets and spires, adding to its eerie presence and a faint orange glow already illuminated some of the many lancet windows, as if fires and candles had been lit in anticipation of her visit.
"Whoa," she breathed as she stared up at it.
She stood, unable to take her eyes off the structure, and moved to disembark before the Skiff had even pulled to a complete stop. Perhaps it was in part because she was so far away from the golden city but there was something about the castle that made her feel... elsewhere. It wasn't like the rest of the architecture throughout Asgard. It wasn't like anything. She felt drawn to it, she wanted to be closer, wanted to run her hands along its stone walls.
Now, I need your word that you won't befoul anything here the way you did the last time you entered my dwellings.
Loki's words snapped her out of the spell she seemed to have fallen under momentarily.
"Wait," she said slowly. "You're going to let me go inside?"
Fresh excitement bubbled within her.
You already knew that, Loki replied, confused.
"I thought we were just doing a drive-by! Taking a lap or two around the outside, and peering through a few windows. I didn't realise you were going to let me explore the inside!"
Well, you needn't feel obligated-
"Are you crazy?! If you're going to let me then, of course, I'm going in."
She moved eagerly to make her way towards the stone staircase when another voice caught her attention.
"My lady?" called the Asgardian, still standing at the helm of the Skiff. "Would you like for me to wait here?"
She paused, with a small swell of guilt as she realised she'd forgotten he was still present.
"Oh... no, that's alright. I've got it from here. Thanks for your help."
"But, my lady-"
"Really, it's fine! Have a great day," she called over her shoulder, waving goodbye. She was already retreating, eager to see what the inside of the castle had in store.
By the time she reached the top of the staircase, she was absolutely gasping for breath.
"Okay..." she said between deep gulps of air as she braced her hands on her knees. "Message received. My cardio routine starts up again first thing tomorrow."
An image of Natasha bloomed suddenly in her mind. After the seemingly endless hours, she'd spent training Reagan at SHIELD, helping her to build her fitness, and strengthening her body; she could only imagine the way the redhead would kick her ass if she could see her now, gulping down oxygen all because of a staircase. Actually, Reagan thought, she'd probably kick her ass for more than just one reason.
If by that you're referring to me then-
"Hey, butt out," Reagan chastised, before turning to face the castle again.
Well then, stop wasting time daydreaming and open the infernal doors.
Reagan marched up the stairs, annoyed by the very concept of obeying any of Loki's instructions.
It was only as she pushed against the massive doors, that she realised she had been expecting them to be locked. But instead, they gave way easily to her.
As the heavy doors parted with a low, ancient groan, Reagan awaited the musty scent of abandoned places to hit her. Instead, the air was filled with the fresh fragrance of forest plants. She stepped inside the darkened castle and breathed out in wonder as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Before her in front of a wall of arched, tinted windows, two symmetrical curved staircases descended to form one. The railings were dark and intricate. The floor beneath her feet, the colour of onyx, and a deep forest green carpet sprawled its way up each staircase.
Fine art and tapestries hung on the walls all around her, illuminated by the muted light the windows allowed through. Overhead hung lanterns adorned with flickering candles.
The whole space was also alive with thriving plant life - ferns and climbers and small trees, though it did not appear as though the castle had been taken over by nature in its master's absence, but rather, that nature had been worked into the architecture itself - as if they were one.
"Loki, this is... beautiful," Reagan said, as she turned slowly on the spot, attempting to drink it all in.
He'd grown so used to her tendency to poke fun that she sensed his obvious surprise at the sincerity with which she said it. But there was nothing to joke about here, nothing to tease. The castle was breathtaking - otherworldly.
With every step she took, her footsteps echoed out into the empty stretches of halls, disturbing the eerie quiet and so Reagan slipped out of her shoes and padded barefoot upon the onyx floors as she wandered deeper into the castle.
It had a strange lingering sense of loneliness to it. As though it had a weight to it. Substance. And she was struck by the sense that she was not the only one within the castle walls. A shiver ran down her spine. She hugged her arms around herself suddenly as she scanned her surroundings again, growing a little uncertain.
"This feels... haunted," she murmured. "Is it haunted?"
Loki's laughter rang out in her mind.
Don't tell me you mortals believe in ghosts?
"Well, not super believe, but..."
You believe in ghosts.
"Shut up, I do not."
It really seems as if you.
"Okay, fine. Maybe a teeny tiny bit?"
Well, that is just adorable.
Even as she blushed, she rolled her eyes at him.
"But for real though, am I alone? Who lit all these candles?"
You're alone. And you're safe, he added when he sensed her unease, even if he did sound a little patronising. The candles are enchanted. They're evermore.
"No way," Reagan breathed, moving towards the most nearby sconce to take a better look. "How long have they been burning?"
A few decades. I have to redo the spellwork every so often as the magic fades but other than that, they self-sustain.
She peered into the flame, at the wax of the candle that appeared to be melting. She passed her fingertips slowly through the fire. It didn't feel like her fire, rather it was laced with a prickle of what she now knew to be magic. She didn't know how to explain it - what it was about it, exactly - but it felt like Loki, like his presence. It was his. She scooped it up into her palm, allowing the flames to dance in between her fingers as she studied them. It was strange how different the enchanted flames felt compared to her own. She continued down the hall, her focus still so consumed by the flames engulfing her hand that she almost missed it.
The smallest glint of gold in the corner of her eye caused her attention to shift once more and she turned to peer into the room she was passing.
"Oh, no way," she whispered as she doused the flames in the palm of her hand.
She swept into the room which appeared to be some sort of armoury. There were blades of all different shapes and sizes. Light gleaned off each of their razor-sharp edges, some long and curved, some needle sharp. Not one even a fraction out of place. Reagan passed the awe-inspiring display with a fleeting glance before she turned her attention back towards the object which had caught her eye in the first place.
Loki's golden-horned helmet.
Displayed on a mount atop a small round table in the centre of the room. Reagan moved closer, circling it slowly as she studied it, watching as the light glinted along its ridges and curves from the shifting angles. Up close it was impossible to deny how beautiful an item it was, how fine the quality of it was, how expertly crafted. It was so strange how formidable it had seemed to her when she'd first laid eyes on him in New York - the God who brought torment and chaos with him, who had come to claim the Earth for his own, wearing his golden antlers. Those horns, such a symbol of great power, of great evil. It was a strange, eye-opening moment, to realise exactly how much her view of him had shifted. Those horns, only a few months earlier, had been such a symbol of evil, of hatred, when now, they were just some gold hat in a cool castle that belonged to Loki - the annoying voice who unwillingly lived in her head.
Well, thank you for that, Loki commented sarcastically.
She smiled.
"Mind if I try it on?"
Is that truly necessary?
"I'm trying it on."
Reagan ignored the way Loki grumbled about it as she lifted the helmet and placed it on her head. The gold was thick and solid, and it weighed far more than she had anticipated. She felt the pressure of it in her spine, it was as if it planted her feet more solidly into the ground. She turned carefully to observe herself in the reflection of a glass display case, filed with jewel-crusted blades. She studied herself, the way the brow piece framed her eyes, trying to imagine herself as royalty. She laughed a little. If it meant having to wear that thing all day, no thank you.
"Jesus," she muttered. "Loki, I think I've found the source of your anger issues. This thing is heavy, it must be murder on your neck."
I'm capable of lifting 50 tons, Reagan, he said dryly. I can manage a helmet.
"Classic denial," she teased as she hoisted the helmet off again and returned it to its resting place.
She then turned to take a better look at the knife display, sizing it up.
"Now, which ones can I play with? Which are best for fancy tricks?"
I'm fairly confident you're joking, Loki responded slowly. But I can never be sure with you, so I just need to point out that you are, in fact, entirely alone, you'll most certainly cut yourself almost immediately and likely bleed out if you do actually intend to play with anything inside this room.
"Jeez, alright. Chill out, mom."
"What's in here?"
Reagan ducked her head into yet another room.
She'd been at it for hours, weaving in and out of hallways, up and down staircases, exploring every nook and cranny of the place, begrudgingly admitting that Loki had rather fine taste. It was so unlike Odin's palace - every inch of it covered in gold, ostentatious - instead, this place was dark, yet elegant. It felt... timeless. Peaceful.
She stepped into the newly discovered room to find a surprising set-up. There was a large workbench, far simpler than any of the other rooms were furnished. Stacks of parchments sat atop it, and jars of different coloured liquids. An easel stood in the corner of the room with a blank canvas set upon it. All around the room were canvases and rolls of parchment of varying shapes and sizes. Paint brushes and quills and charcoals were scattered all throughout, surrounded by dozens upon dozens of evermore candles of all different shapes and sizes.
"You paint?" Reagan smiled at the surprising sight.
I've tried my hand at it from time to time.
She found it more surprising still, that she could very much picture him in this space. Paintbrush in hand, immortal patience as he added detail after detail to his work. His clothes in perfect condition but maybe just a few small paint stains littering his long fingers. Perhaps the tiniest smudge of blue upon one of his cheekbones.
Reagan reached the paint-stained bench and flicked through a few of the parchments stacked there. There was a lot of scenery work. Locations in Asgard. Some from this very castle. All intricately done, with expert brush strokes.
"Wow," she remarked, earnestly. "You're good."
She flicked through a few more before one sight caused her to still, the air rushing out of her lungs.
Carefully, with slightly trembling hands she pulled one particular parchment free from the stack.
It was a painting of a girl. A girl whose entire body was ablaze with brilliant, unyielding flames.
"Is that... is that me?"
It wasn't possible. Loki had been locked away in his cell from the moment he had returned to Asgard. He hadn't returned to his chambers to collect any personal items, and he certainly hadn't returned to a castle on a remote island. But that painting, the way the flames licked up the figure on the page, the sweep of her hair, the curve of her face. It was undeniably her. She stared at the parchment, unblinking, at the hands postured to yield the fire. Those were her fingers, they looked identical. It was her.
How had he-
Sometimes magic breeds dreams in the form of vague premonitions. Loki explained as he tracked her thought pattern, though there was something in his tone that Reagan didn't quite believe. Nothing more nothing less. I don't even remember painting it.
She couldn't quite believe that. Not from the amount of detail he'd worked into the image. The way her eyes shone brightly. The way they almost looked real. There was something about it, something in the care taken, Reagan couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked in it. How could this just be a premonition in some meaningless dream? How long ago had he painted it? Were there others?
Her eyes wandered slowly from the parchment she was holding to the other images scattered around the room. Were there more of her hidden away in her? How many times had he painted her face? Her flames? Her eyes soon fell on a small leatherbound journal, resting on the same workbench as the stack of journals. She reached out for it.
Wait, Loki said suddenly.
Reagan froze, her fingers still brushing the book she was reaching for.
Please don't look at that one.
Reagan smirked a little and picked the book up. It wasn't very often that she got the upper hand with him, so she couldn't help but indulge herself.
"My, my," she drawled studying the blank bindings of the book as though it might give away its own secrets to her. "Have I finally found that secret journal of yours after all? I knew it existed," she teased.
Loki, however, didn't appear to think it was any laughing matter.
Reagan, I beg of you. Please, put it back.
Unease stirred deep within her at the way his voice sounded in that moment. The absence of his obnoxious confidence, his sarcastic tone. She didn't like it.
"Fine," she relented placing the book down where she'd found it, still trying to make light of the situation. "But only because I still haven't fully recovered from the fact that you're DB Cooper."
She felt the way he rolled her eyes at that but also sensed his relief. She glanced back at the book one last time before making her way towards the door to continue exploring the rest of the castle.
"It's pretty crazy to think that if you hadn't hijacked a plane a few decades ago I'd have access to your deepest, darkest thoughts right now, huh?"
Loki laughed along with her, amused, but she could still sense a little of the relief that pulsed off of him. She wondered what her past self would think of her if she saw the way she so freely walked away from such a delectable opportunity to humiliate the trickster.
Talk about growth.
Or stupidity.
She still wasn't quite sure.
Reagan turned a corner and walked past a wall of long windows illuminated by a flash of lightning. Long veins of water tricked down them joined by large droplets assaulting the window panes. She gazed out, watching the storm. The was a deep emerald green lounge beneath the window, a thick fur pelt thrown over it.
"Where did this weather come from?" she wondered out loud.
It's another enchantment, Loki told her. It's the same throughout this entire wing. I found it peaceful, the rhythm of the rain. It used to help me sleep on restless nights.
She ran her hand over a sinfully soft pelt of fur as she passed it, moving to exit the room.
Take that with you, Loki told her. Some nights it snows through the rest of the castle.
Reagan smiled at the thought as she scooped fur up into her arms and instantly felt the warmth of it just from holding it against her chest. Thick and silver-grey and impossibly soft. For how dense the fibres were, it wasn't too weighty. A strangely familiar scent filled her nostrils - something she couldn't quite place. Something that reminded her of cedarwood and amber, she found something to it to be soothing and lifted it closer to her face to breathe in the scent. She smiled.
"You enchanted it to snow inside your castle?" she asked.
I'm rather fond of the cold.
Reagan quickened her step a little as she made her way down winding hallways, eager to find these enchanted corridors.
With the warm fur pelt draped over her shoulders, a substantially sized bowl laden with various fruits in one hand and an even more substantially sized glass of strawberry wine in the other, Reagan made her way out onto the balcony adjacent to the kitchen that looked out over the ocean.
"The kitchen is stocked?" she'd asked, upon finding the space that looked midway between a kitchen and a greenhouse.
The foods are evergreens, Loki explained. They grow here, and don't begin to rot until long after they're plucked. Help yourself.
"Oh, I could get used to this," she told him as she made her way around the room collecting fruits and berries.
Don't get any ideas about relocating here.
"Why not? It's not like you're using it right now," she'd teased.
The sun was just setting, the sky was a beautiful gradient of orange and purpled hues, and stars were just beginning to wink into existence above.
The steady crash of waves on the shore below was strangely hypnotic, soothing, and she gazed out, watching the light fade on the horizon as she fed herself berries, enjoying the solitude. Well, the solitude plus Loki. The cool wind kissed her skin, and she pulled the fur tighter around her frame. There was something comforting about the scent of it. Strangely familiar, yet she couldn't quite pinpoint it. There was just something about it that felt like... home. She found herself burying her face in it and breathing deeply in between sips of wine and bites of fruit as she and Loki chatted idly about their favourite features of his castle she'd just spent hours exploring.
"On Earth," she told Loki as she leaned back in her chair, resting her legs on the stone railing of the balcony as she stared up at the night sky. "We do this thing where we find patterns in the stars and name them. We call them constellations."
Yes, Reagan. Loki replied, dryly. We do that too, everyone knows about star systems.
"Alright," she replied a little defensively. "You made fun of me for talking about ghosts earlier. I wasn't sure."
I made fun of you for believing in ghosts, Loki corrected.
For the fiftieth time that day, she rolled her eyes.
"Do you know any constellations or not, butthead?"
She could feel the way Loki smiled in response.
Loki directed her gaze to a cluster of stars directly above her.
That just above you, the three to the right and the nine that trail down from it? She is the Goddess, Iðunn, said to be the giver of Asgardian's prolonged life. Legend has it, she stole the Golden Apple from the Ancient One. The only being to ever possess true immortality. She cut the apple into thousands of pieces and fed it to her people so it would be eons before they aged, and they would never grow ill.
Reagan smiled and settled back into her seat as Loki pointed out each cluster of stars and told her their tales. She picked at her berries and listened attentively, her gaze falling back over the calm swells of the ocean below from time to time.
And that is Jörmungandr, the great serpent. Loki continued. Odin used to tell us when we were young that if we ever misbehaved, he would trap us below the city where the serpent would drip a poison more corrosive than acid upon us as punishment.
"...I'm sorry, he fucking what?!" Reagan shot up in her chair in pure horror.
Loki laughed at her reaction, but Reagan was genuinely mortified.
"Has anyone ever told you that your dad sounds like a total dick?"
Yes, actually. Sygran, on more than one occasion.
"Smart woman," Reagan muttered, still processing Odin's approach to parenting as she swigged her strawberry wine.
She is, indeed.
Reagan stilled at the tone in his voice. It wasn't often that Loki sounded vulnerable. Sentimental. And she caught the pang of sadness he tried so hard to conceal from her.
"Do you-" Reagan hesitated, unsure if what she wanted to say might anger him. She desperately wanted to avoid undoing the frankly unbelievable progress they made towards coexisting peacefully. "Do you want me to go see her? Deliver a message for you? Because I will, you know... if that's something you wanted. I would help you."
Her words were met with silence and she grew more hesitant.
"Loki?" she pressed softly.
Not yet, he said at last. Perhaps some time but-
"Okay," she said gently. "That's okay."
Thank you... Loki murmured. To even offer something like that, I... thank you...
"Of course," she murmured back.
The pair fell silent, neither quite sure how to move on from the strangely gentle moment, neither used to it.
Reagan leaned back in her seat and gazed up at the night sky, alive with thousands upon thousands of glittering stars.
"Do you have a star?" she asked, more so to break the silence than anything.
I do actually, Loki admitted. You'll see it just along the horizon... a little more to the left... That one. It's a great honour to have a star named for you. A way to ensure your legacy lives on. It was a gift from Frigga.
Reagan smiled at the thought. The more she learned about Frigga, the more highly she thought of her.
"She really loves you," Reagan told him then, earnestly.
Once again her words were met with silence. She let out a long, slow breath and looked skyward once more.
"I want a star," she decided.
She felt Loki's amusement at the idea trickle down the link.
Pick one, Loki said simply.
Reagan leaned forward and scanned the liquidy expanse of evening sky that stretched out above her into infinity, adorned with a million, million glimmering lights. Soon her sights settled on one in particular.
There was something unique about it.
It glimmered just a little differently from the others, with a slightly cooler tone. Where the others seemed to burn ever so slightly golden, this one seemed cooler - some icy blue hue.
The frost to her flame.
It felt right.
She squinted one eye shut for accuracy and stretched her pointer finger out as far as she possibly could, honing in on it.
"That one," she said resolutely.
Loki let out a surprised laugh, and it caused Reagan to hesitate, unsure of what she'd done to illicit such a response.
"What?" she asked, strangely self-conscious.
It's just strange that you should pick that one... It's not actually a star. It's the frost planet, Jotenheim.
"Oh..." She said softly. She'd read a little about it in her attempts to educate herself about Asgard, but there'd been so much to cover about everything else that it had been low on her list of priorities. All she knew was that there had been a war a few centuries back, one that Odin had won. Another notch on his belt. Reagan looked up at it again, the way it glimmered overhead. So easily discernable from the rest.
"Well, I still want it," she said adamantly. "It feels like it's supposed to be mine."
Loki's reaction was muted - hazy - and Reagan couldn't quite decipher it, as if he were trying to conceal it from her. But despite that, when he spoke to her again his tone was light.
Well, in that case, I gift it to you. It's yours.
She couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. It was such a uniquely Loki-style of arrogance, to just give away a planet that he had no claim to. She snuggled a little deeper into the furs she'd all but engulfed herself inside of.
"It's kind of fitting, actually," she said, her gaze still fixed upon her newly claimed planet. "I don't really feel the cold anymore since what happened to me, so I'd fit right in there quite comfortably."
Reagan felt Loki's incredulity, pure and potent.
You are aware you're currently wearing one of the finest furs in existence? Anyone would think themselves impervious to the cold whilst wrapped up in such a thing.
She looked down at the way she'd basically burritoed herself inside the pelt.
"The irony is not lost on me," she assured him. "But there's a difference between being cold and wanting to feel snuggly. Plus, you offering it to me was a rare instance where you were actually being nice, I had to positively reinforce the behaviour by accepting."
Fool.
"See?"
Reagan looked up once again, her eyes searching the great expanse above her as she felt a now-familiar ache, deep in her chest.
"Can I see Earth from here?" she asked softly, feeling vulnerable.
She scanned the sky again, hopeful, as if she might find it herself, gazing back at her. Missing her.
She buried her nose in the fur once more, breathing in the calming scent.
You can't see it tonight, Loki said at last. But it's out there.
She smiled softly at the thought, albeit a little pained, and buried her nose into the fur wrapped around her, breathing in the comforting scent.
So, Loki said, his tone shifting entirely. Are you going to continue to keep me in suspense or have you decided upon another Midgardian you think you can tempt me into admiring?
Reagan giggled. She had, in fact, thought of another. Seeing his art studio had all but solidified her certainty that this time she'd found the right one. But she was still so scarred by her last attempt that she'd been putting off trying again.
"Okay, fine," she relented, pulling the furs even tighter around her shoulders and gazing up at the stars. "But first, you have to swear to me you've never come to Earth under the name Stuart Semple."
To the best of my knowledge.
She squinted suspiciously.
"I smell a loophole."
Then perhaps you should wash it better.
She almost choked on the surprised laugh that fought its way up her throat.
"Well, well, well... Mr I'm-too-good-for-toilet-humour finally stoops to my level," she mused.
Well, my sheets are covered in phallic shapes and anuses. It was bound to happen eventually.
"I threw in some vaginas, too."
Yes, well, I'm saving those for a special occasion.
Reagan just blinked, utterly lost for words.
"What is happening right now?"
I'm merely trying my best to distract you from the fact that I am, indeed, Stuart Semple.
"WHAT?!" Her whole body went rigid, suddenly. Her eyes blew wide with disbelief.
I'm kidding, Loki relented.
Reagan breathed an overwhelming sigh of relief.
She slumped back into her chair, amusement and annoyance battling for dominance inside of her. She shook her head and laughed.
"If I ever see you in real life, I'm going to punch you so fucking hard."
I'd expect nothing less.
She could feel his smile match her own.
"Okay," Reagan said, picking her drink up once again. "Now that I know you've got a thing for art, I feel like you might actually like this one."
I've heard that before.
"Yeah, yeah. Do you want to hear this or not?"
Go ahead.
"Okay, before I tell you about Stuart Semple, I need to tell you about Anish Kapoor. Our villain of the story."
Villain? You're not going to bore me with another common do-gooder, are you?
"I've learned my lesson, Loki. Just trust me and stop interrupting. So, Anish Kapoor is an extremely famous and successful artist, like untouchably elite at this point. He's made millions from his artworks and people say that he's got a huge ego. Apparently, he's super narcissistic. He's probably best known for this giant mirrored sculpture called Cloud Gate in Chicago. Now this sculpture is kind of shaped exactly like a giant kidney bean. To the point that people just refer to it as The Bean, and let me tell you how fucking much he hates that shit."
Loki hummed his amusement.
"And not only that, this bean is enormous and it's in a public space but Anish Kapoor hates people taking photos of it. He actually had a security team around the bean trying to stop people from taking its picture, but they eventually gave up when his team sort of realised it was impossible. It's too big in too big a space. So anyway, because of all this and a few other things, this guy has rubbed a lot of people in the art community the wrong way - you know, because of his shitty attitude."
Evidently.
"But then it got even worse when this paint was released called Vantablack, which was said to be the blackest black in existence. It absorbs almost all light completely and bounces nothing back. It was originally designed for stealth crafts because it's so black that anything you paint with it actually loses visual dimension. It's kind of crazy to look at. It was meant to be for camouflage in the night sky but for many reasons that I won't get into, it turned out to be impractical. Anyway, when it became known that the paint wouldn't be used by the army, along came Anish Kapoor with all his millions of dollars and bought exclusive rights to it, meaning that no other artist on Earth would ever be allowed to use it but him. Not for just a year or a decade or whatever, not even just in his lifetime but for the rest of eternity."
She felt a dull pulse of annoyance from Loki.
Is this commonplace on Midgard?
"Actually, no. It wasn't. There was absolute outrage among the artistic community because everyone had wanted to try the most black paint of all time and then some rich guy comes along and monopolises it forever? Like he didn't even invent it, he had nothing to do with the process of creating it, he was just rich. It was such a fucked up thing to do."
Yes, those were my thoughts exactly. What a scoundrel.
Reagan snorted suddenly.
"Did you just call him a scoundrel?"
Yes, Loki replied indignantly. His behaviour is the textbook definition of a scoundrel.
"You can be such a dork sometimes."
You know, not all of us have to resort to bodily orifices to insult someone. And why am I suddenly on trial instead of this clear and obvious scoundrel?
"Well, however you feel the need to phrase it, I am glad you feel that way," Reagan said, still smirking. "Because that's exactly what Stuart Semple thought too. So, he's an artist as well, but he firmly believes that art is for everyone and should be about joy and fun and when he found out that no one else would be able to access Vantablack he decided he needed to stage some form of protest. Semple had been mixing his own pigments for years at that point and he decided that if no one else was allowed to use the blackest black paint then he was going to make the pinkest pink and make it super affordable and accessible, and anyone who wanted to use it could, except Anish Kapoor."
Loki laughed out loud then.
How did he manage that, exactly?
"He had a website where he sold his pinkest pink paint and you could go on and get it for something like $6 to cover the production cost because he didn't even want to make a profit. But in order to add it to your cart, you had to sign a disclaimer saying that to the best of your knowledge, you were not Anish Kapoor-"
Loki's laughter rang out once again.
"-you were in no way affiliated with Anish Kapoor, and you were making the purchase with the belief that your paint would not end up in the hands of Anish Kapoor."
And did Kapoor learn of this?
"Indeed, he did."
Marvellous.
"So Semple hadn't expected to sell much of this paint, he was mostly just doing it as a joke, but it absolutely blew up in the art world. Everyone wanted it and news outlets were covering it. Basically, people were actually just super excited to state clearly that they had no association with Anish Kapoor just by owning this paint. And poor old Anish did not handle this well. He managed to get his hands on a jar of the pigment and posted a photo on social media giving Semple the middle finger after he'd dipped the tip of his finger in the paint."
Exactly how I'd expect a true scoundrel to react.
Reagan shook her head with a smile.
"So Semple sent him this hysterically petty letter in response, telling Kapoor that he needed to apologise for hurting everyone's feelings and to give him back his pink because he didn't want him to have it. But if Kapoor could be nice and learn to share his black paint then he could keep his pinkest pink and join in with everyone else, so he didn't feel so left out."
Loki's laughter ran out in her mind again and Reagan couldn't help but to smile brightly along with him. She snuggled down further into the warm fur surrounding her and rubbed at her eye a little, they were beginning to grow heavy.
"So, a little disappointingly, Semple doesn't get any response from Kapoor about this letter. So the next thing he does just to continue to antagonise Kapoor is release the glitteriest glitter, that anyone in the world can use-"
Except for Anish Kapoor.
"You got it," Reagan confirmed with a giggle, before yawning a little and snuggling deeper into her fur cocoon. "The glitter was called Diamond Dust, and he made it out of tiny shards of razor-sharp glass so that if you were to dip, say, your middle finger into it..."
Loki roared at the idea.
"You're genuinely enjoying this," she accused, happily.
Alright, perhaps I am, just a little. I appreciate the pettiness.
"Well then, here is the icing on the cake," Reagan said, closing her eyes just so she could rest them as she told the rest of the story. "Vantablack is extremely toxic, it's flammable over above a certain heat and there are just all these problems and special conditions you need in order to use it. And Semple now had this team behind him, all working towards making these cool, different pigments-"
She paused to loose a long, drawn-out yawn.
"-and eventually they released a pigment called Semple's Better Black-"
They really called it that?
Reagan smiled. "They did. It wasn't quite as black as Vantablack but it was awfully close, it was safe for anyone to use, and it only costs about $12 a bottle..." She yawned once more. "And just to top it off, they made it smell like black cherries."
Loki was thoroughly amused by the whole concept and had to clutch his side while he laughed uproariously.
And then what did he do? Loki managed to ask at last.
...
Reagan?
Reagan didn't respond. Didn't feel the trickster's demeanour soften ever so slightly. Didn't hear the affection in Loki's voice when he spoke to her once more.
Of course, you'd fall asleep right as I was going to admit defeat. Rest well, you sweet, stupid thing.
Reagan slept deeply, wrapped in the soft, warm fur, the crisp evening air kissing gently against her face. She didn't stir, not even to roll over until the first rays of morning light spilled over the horizon and spread as slowly as warm honey over her sleeping features.
As it roused her from her peace, she squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face deeper into the furs to block out the light.
You know, it's rather rude to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation.
She didn't open her eyes, but a small smile formed on her lips.
"Sorry, I couldn't help it," she said as she stretched and yawned and pulled the fur she'd slept beneath tighter around her shoulders. "It's just that I find you sooo boring."
Loki laughed, it sounded in her mind, low and soft.
Come, you should get up, he encouraged. When did you arrange for the boatman to return for you?
The question seemed to jolt Reagan awake quite suddenly.
"...when did I arrange for what?"
Full disclosure, I realised after I'd written the majority of this chapter that the Semple vs Kapoor Vantablack war actually started in 2016 so it doesn't line up with the timeline if Avengers happened in 2012. BUT I love the story and I genuinely think Loki would appreciate the pettiness so I decided to just keep it in.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)