Reagan pushed open the door and tipped-toed into the dark room, the gentle sound of snoring coming from the bed instantly eased the worry that had pooled in her stomach. She moved towards the two forms laying silhouetted in the darkness, placing her feet slowly and methodically in her best attempt not to disturb the quiet.
"Momma?" she murmured in little more than a whisper as she reached out a small hand to shake the person on the side nearest to the door - the only one she would ever really seek out in the middle of the night. "Momma, I had an accident again."
She waited apprehensively as her mother stirred from her sleep and raised her head from her pillow. In the dark, Reagan could see her open one bleary eye to peer at her.
"Oh honey," she groaned softly, her voice heavy with sleep. "That's the third night this week."
Reagan didn't answer. She just looked down at her feet as embarrassment washed through her and gave a miserable sniff.
"Shhh," her mother hushed, reaching for her. "It's alright, sweetheart. Have you changed your pyjamas?"
Reagan nodded.
"Alright." Her mother lifted the blankets and shifted back a little to make room for her. "Come here, just be quiet so we don't wake your father. You know what he's like."
Reagan hoisted herself up into the bed and curled into the warmth of her mother's chest as she threw the blankets back over them both then wrapped a comforting arm around the young girl.
"We should probably try drinking less water after dinner tomorrow," her mother whispered as she pressed a kiss to the crown of Reagan's head. "Maybe that's the problem."
"I'm sorry momma," Reagan murmured against her mother's shoulder. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of fabric softener and faded perfume, and something just a little dusty.
"It's not your fault, sweet girl. Get some sleep now."
"Okay," Reagan murmured. She closed her eyes and listened as her mother's breathing soon evened out into gentle snores again. She wriggled just a little more into her warmth before allowing the rhythm of those snores to lull her to sleep.
Just as she began to drift away, a voice stirred in some strange and unfamiliar corner of her mind.
You're not serious, Loki sneered, bending down to inspect the six-year-old Reagan more closely. You actually wet yourself in your sleep? How humiliating. Is it commonplace for Midgardians to soil their bedding?
Reagan woke with a jolt and actually snarled. Her face burned a violent shade of red, but instead of making Reagan want to shrink up and die like it may have a few days ago, this time it only fuelled her rage.
"Oh, that is it!" she exclaimed.
Violently, she threw back her quilts and climbed out of bed.
Reagan flung open her chamber doors with a bang that echoed out through the darkened hall and she stormed out barefoot into the palace, her nightgown billowing around her and her hands balled into tight fists.
The hallways were still dark, but the sun was just beginning to peek up over the horizon, giving just enough light that Reagan could see where she was going.
Where are you off to? Loki asked casually, clearly enjoying that he'd gotten such a rise out of her.
"You'll see," she said to him out loud. "And believe me, you are not going to like it."
She only had fragments of the memories she'd accidentally gleaned from Loki's mind the one time he'd let his guard down. So precious little, but just enough for her to map her way through the castle until she arrived at her desired destination.
What do you think you are doing? Loki's voice had a sudden edge to it that was music to Reagan's ears as he began to realise where she was going.
"If you're going to keep invading my privacy, you better believe I'm going to invade yours," she told him, grabbing hold of the door handles, ready to fling the doors open.
They didn't budge. She shook them violently but again achieved nothing.
Locked.
She swore under her breath and scowled as she felt his smug satisfaction curl around her, languid, like a cat.
Did you really think you'd just be able to barge into my chambers-
"Yeah, actually, I did," she said, not letting him finish.
Reagan took hold of the handles once again and forced heat to burst forth in the palm of her hands until the handles were glowing red hot. The wood around the lock quickly began to char, giving off a horrid black smoke which Reagan all but ignored as handles glowed white hot and their integrity gave way, melting at last and oozing down the smouldering wood of the doors.
She released her grip and gave the doors a dramatic shove, forcing them to swing open, revealing Loki's private chambers.
"HA!" she cried victoriously as she strode into the room.
You little shrew.
Rage pulsed down the link in her direction.
She wished then and there that she could bottle and sell the surge of satisfaction that was flowing through her veins at that moment.
The room was like much of the rest of Asgard - grand, finely decorated, and far more intricately detailed than anything she'd ever seen on Earth. It was furnished with ebony furniture, accented with rich greens and golds, much like the attire Loki had donned while invading Earth. The walls were lined with bookshelves which were kept meticulously tidy. A large desk was positioned in from of them, half buried in stacked books, scrolls and strange-looking relics. Expensive rugs decorated the dark, marbled floors and heavy emerald curtains draped over the many ceiling-high windows all around the room, obscuring the view overlooking the glittering city beyond them, parted only enough to let thin strips of light pierce through the darkness. Reagan inhaled and she picked up soft scents of sandalwood and tea, and something that reminded her a little of magnolias. She ignored the calm the aroma threatened to bring with it.
She strolled around the room, taking her time to drink in everything, running her fingers along the surfaces she passed, vaguely surprised to find a consistent layer of dust covering everything. She had assumed the staff would continue to keep it tidy even without Loki occupying it; it appeared they were not.
"Wow. Not too shabby," she said out loud, suddenly feeling extremely smug to finally have an upper hand over the bane of her existence. "I have to say, you Asgardians definitely aren't minimalists are you? I mean, it does explain a lot. No wonder you're so dramatic. Look at the environment you've lived in. You're just so visually overstimulated at all times."
Alright, you've had your fun. Now, get out.
"Ha! Are you crazy? I'm not planning on going anywhere anytime soon, buddy."
She reached the bed at the far end of the room. It was easily large enough to sleep ten people and was perfectly made, pridefully so. Pillows of varying shapes were arranged against an ostentatious headboard. Onyx and emerald quilts were draped over an inviting look mattress, they looked painfully soft. So much so that Reagan felt fleetingly tempted to sink into them.
Instead, she held out her pointer finger, allowing it to heat up until it was smouldering hot. She then reached out and began drawing scorch marks into shapes on Loki's exquisite quilts. She hoped they were expensive as she ruined them. She hoped they were his favourites.
She felt indignation roll off of him as he watched her actions, helplessly, from her mind's eye.
Are those supposed to be genitals?! He spat. How mature of you.
"Ohhh, I didn't realise that maturity was what you were going for when you were digging through my head looking for embarrassing memories," she said, mockingly, as she continued to doodle.
I am going to destroy every last atom binding you together, you foul little-
"Uh huh," Reagan said, disinterestedly.
Once she had finished with her crude little artworks, she turned to survey the rest of her room, tapping her finger against her chin, pensively.
"Now, if I was a petulant asshole with a god complex, where would I hide my journal?"
I am a god, you insolent worm.
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first seven hundred times," she drawled. "By the way, I'm a little offended by the insults you've been throwing my way. It's all worm this, idiot that. But Natasha got 'this is my bargain you mewling quim.' I mean, that's so out of line it's almost beautiful. I'm supposed to be your soulmate and yet you're waxing poetic for another woman."
She shook her head in mock annoyance as she pushed over a vase unceremoniously, smiling at the sound of it shattering on the floor.
You know you get awfully cocky when you think you have the upper hand.
"I do have the upper hand. Any moment now I'm going to be balls-deep in your inner thoughts."
Well, isn't that just charming?
She made her way back to the bed and with a little difficulty, lifted the mattress to inspect beneath it. Nothing.
"Dear diary," she mocked in a terrible attempt at his accent as she continued her search. "Day four thousand eight hundred and thirty-four of Operation: Attain a Throne. Plans were once thwarted by my oaf of a brother. What a waste of a perfectly good catapult. Had that strange dream about wearing mother's shoes again."
She felt Loki scoff.
What makes you think I would even keep a journal?
"Please." Reagan rolled her eyes. "You're totally the type and we both know it."
Her eyes fell on his desk once again and she hurried over to it. She swung her arm across it, sweeping pilings of scrolls onto the floor. She then picked up the nearest book and started thumbing through it as she wandered in circles around the desk, making sure to crush the scrolls beneath her feet with each step. Once she'd flipped about halfway through the book, finding nothing of interest, she tossed it over her shoulder and picked up another. She hurled book after book across the room, smirking for each other that landed open, creasing pages against the marble floor.
Loki's anger seethed her way once again.
You can search all you want, you'll never find anything even remotely as embarrassing as when you stumbled across that stage when you were seventeen, he sneered.
Reagan cringed as the memory forced its way to the forefront of her mind. She'd made the honour roll and was being presented with an award in front of the entire school. When her name was called she'd tripped up the final step and had gone sprawling across the stage. Worst of all was that she'd grabbed hold of her Principal's thigh to try and catch her fall, almost taking both him and his trousers down with her. She loathed thinking about that moment and hated if any of her friends ever brought it up. So to hear it coming from Loki, well, that was another thing altogether.
With newfound determination she dug through the desk draws, dumping their contents onto the floor. She was rapidly growing more and more frustrated with her fruitless search and so she turned instead towards the bookshelves lining the walls. Reagan pulled a random book from the shelf and began flipping through it, before snatching the page up in her fist and tearing it out violently. She scrunched it into a ball and tossed it carelessly over her shoulder, followed by a few other ill-fated pages and then the book itself. She then returned to the shelves, inspecting the spines carefully before selecting her next victim.
Do you have any idea how priceless some of those volumes are?! Some of them are one of a kind.
"I literally couldn't care less, Loki."
You are an utter NEANDERTHAL.
She ignored him and pulled the heavy, velvety curtains from where they hung over their brilliantly large windows into a sad-looking heap in the middle of the room, she thrust her flaming hands into the fabrics unceremoniously and let them begin to smoulder.
The next time you sleep I am going to carve your memories right out of your mind. I will not rest until you have lost every last one that matters anything to you.
Reagan faltered just a little at that.
"You can't do that," she said defiantly. "You're lying."
Oh, but I can, and I will. You'll be nothing but an empty, drooling lump of flesh by the time I'm done.
The venom in his voice sounded like a promise.
It made her shiver.
Reagan inhaled deeply as fear and rage swelled up in her. She hated him - hated him - more than anything else in existence.
She wanted desperately to throw something, to break it beyond repair, to watch it shatter into a million pieces against a wall. She spun, searching for something - anything - when her eyes landed upon a large crystal orb, resting in a simple black stand on one of Loki's shelves. Even in the limited light, it had a vaguely pearlescent quality to it.
Lovely, she thought at first.
Smashable, she thought next.
She strode towards the shelf, took hold of the orb and hoisted it above her head, ready to hurl it with all her might when Loki's voice rang out in her mind, louder than she had ever heard it.
Wait! Please, not that!
Reagan stilled, hesitant. Her heart began to race. Something in his voice; a desperation she'd not yet heard in him was enough to quell her blinding anger.
Please. He'd said the word please.
She stood there, frozen. The crystal ball was still clutched in her hand. Her chest still heaving with frustration.
And yet, she waited for him to speak again.
I yield, alright? He insisted, suddenly sounding raw. Just please, put it back.
"You'll stay out of my memories?" She asked, lowering the orb ever so slightly.
Alright. Yes. I will. Just don't break it.
Reagan furrowed her brow, relenting. She lowered her arm, inspecting the sphere. She turned it over in her hands, slowly as she thought. There was nothing particularly special about it. In fact, there were a hundred other items decorating the room that seemed far more exquisite than this. So what was so special about it that it could spark such a sudden and dramatic change in the trickster?
Reagan moved slowly back towards the shelf where she'd found the orb before she spoke again.
"And you'll teach me how your mind shields work?" she pressed.
There was a beat of hesitance from his end of the link until he relented at last.
Yes. So be it.
Reagan nodded gently in acceptance and carefully she returned the orb to its perch upon the shelf. She took her time to remove her hands from it, careful to only pull away completely when she was certain it was secure in its position.
She turned from it then and put her hands on her hips.
"Alright," she said, resolutely. "Go."
What?"
"Go," she repeated. "I'm ready. Start talking."
Wha- Right now?!
"I'm sorry, do you have somewhere else to be or something, prison-stripes? Now let's hear it. How do you put the shield up?"
Loki sighed.
Alright, fine. He said, his tone still carrying an edge but he fell quiet for a few moments to consider his next words. I've seen your attempts to keep me out and you do have the right idea to some extent. You've tried to encompass your mind within a guard but your method is flawed.
"Flawed how?"
When you try to penetrate mine, what does it seem like to you? How does it feel?
"It's like a wall of ice. It's cold and unwelcoming. It feels thick. Impenetrable, I guess."
It's because I've worked it to be so. With yours, it's more like... a bed of thorns. It's messy and large and aggressive. A clear attempt to create a barrier that might cause harm to one who tries to invade your thoughts-
"You," she said pointedly.
Yes, me. It pains me to admit that it's not worst the effort put forth by someone so inexperienced. However, with time and patience, a person with the necessary skill can find a way to weave their way through the gaps you've left.
"Okay... so how do I close the gaps? More thorns?"
Not exactly. You need to approach its construction with more of a-
"Reagan?"
The voice cut Loki's sentence short as her attention snapped towards the door to find Thor standing on the threshold, staring at her strangely. He hovered, seeming uncertain about whether he should enter or not.
His mere presence seemed to annoy Loki, who opted at that moment to retreat from her mind, erecting the perfect shields he'd just come so close to explaining to her.
"What are you doing?" Thor asked as his eyes wandered slowly around the room, growing wider with each second.
"Oh," Reagan murmured. She turned to survey the destruction she'd caused, seeing it through Thor's eyes and realising how insane she likely looked.
Torn up books and paper. Still-smoking curtains. Shattered items. Scattered belongings. Not to mention her very tasteful artworks which now decorated the bedding.
"Uh, I was trying to piss off Loki," she explained at last, as she turned back to face Thor in order to gauge his reaction.
Thor didn't bother to suppress the smirk that sentence drew forth from him.
"Ah, well, knowing my brother and the pride he takes in his belongings, I think it's safe to say that you've accomplished the task."
He took a few steps towards her and Reagan found herself strangely comforted by his proximity. Though she hadn't known Thor for long, he was the closest thing in all of Asgard that she had to a friend and it felt good to be around someone who held no ill will towards her after days of being tormented by his raven-haired brother. She felt safer. Calmer.
"So, I take it that the two of you aren't exactly getting along?" Thor asked.
"That would be an understatement," she said, her posture deflated a little.
Thor smiled.
"Well, I may just have some good news for you," he said, causing her to perk up. "My mother sent for you. She has returned from speaking with the High Priestess. I thought I'd find you in her chambers but-" he looked around once more. "-here you are."
Reagan's heart began to race. And as much as she didn't want to allow herself to feel hopeful, it seemed she had no choice in the matter. It was as though a dam wall inside her chest had just collapsed allowing hope to flood through every inch of her.
"She has news? She knows how to fix this?" Her voice sounded brighter than it had in days, even to her own ears.
"She did not tell me," said Thor. "But she's with Loki as we speak, explaining what she's learned."
"What are we waiting for?" Reagan said, excitedly. "Lead the way!"
She made beeline for the door but turned back to find Thor had stilled inside Loki's chambers, his gaze fixed upon the bookshelves.
"My God," he breathed.
Reagan followed his gaze and her eyes fell upon the crystal ball she had threatened to smash only moments ago.
"I haven't seen this in years," he murmured, moving slowly towards it, transfixed. "I didn't realise he still..."
Thor stretched out his fingers towards the orb.
"Don't touch it," Reagan said, quickly, surprising herself.
Thor stilled and turned his head to look at her. His expression matched the confusion Reagan felt herself.
"He wouldn't want you to touch it," she said gently.
She wrapped her arms around herself, uncomfortably. She knew how insane it sounded when Thor stood amid her destruction. But the sound of Loki's voice still echoed in her mind. It was important enough for him to beg her. For him to yield. And for whatever reason, she felt protective of it. It made no sense, and yet she was resolute. And she knew she was right; there was no way Loki would want Thor of all people to touch something so important to him.
"Come on," she inclined her head a little. "Let's go find your mom."
Thor nodded, glancing back at the orb once more before making his way to the door.
When they entered the Queen's sitting room, they found her sat in her chair, statue-still, her eyes closed and her hands cupped gracefully in her lap. Trance-like.
Upon seeing her, Thor extended an arm in front of Reagan drawing her to a stop. She looked up at him questioningly.
"She's with Loki," he murmured quietly.
Reagan's brow furrowed in confusion, surveying the otherwise empty room.
"What do you mean?"
Thor gestured to his temples for emphasis and then inclined towards his mother. Reagan looked over at her once again and this time she spotted it, a faint golden glow ebbing around the Queen's temples. A whisper of magic.
"She's projecting herself," Thor explained. "She's with him in his cell, at least an illusion of her is. They can see each other. Speak to one another.."
Reagan flicked her eyes quickly to Thor's and then back to Frigga once more. The longer she looked the more evident the glow of magic seemed to her.
"Wow," she breathed. "Is that something I can learn? My phone is kind of out of reception here. It'd be nice to be able to talk to people back home."
She smiled a little, trying to make the sentiment seem lighthearted but a deep ache swelled in her at the thought. She pushed it down, willing away the homesickness.
With any luck, it wouldn't be a problem for much longer after all, she reminded herself before the Queen's voice pulled her back to the present.
"Unfortunately, a projection of that distance is a little too ambitious for a beginner."
Thor and Reagan both turned their attention towards the Queen to find her eyes were open, trained on them.
"Proximity is important when you first start out," she continued. "And it helps to practice with someone who you share a bond with."
"A bond?" Reagan asked
"An emotional bond acts as a tether. It makes the spell work stronger," Frigga explained. "It's why I can visit Loki, even with the spells his prison cell has been enchanted with to seal in his powers."
The sentiment stirred something in Reagan. She'd been so caught up in her own distress about her situation that she hadn't given a moment's thought to how this whole mess might have been affecting the woman sitting opposite her. No matter what Loki had done, no matter how she felt about him, this was his mother. The past few days couldn't have been easy on her. Watching him come back after all he'd done, and watching him be imprisoned by his own father, it must have been painful for her. And the situation with the soul marks - well, Reagan hadn't exactly been kind about it.
"Thor," Frigga stood and approached her son to pat his arm affectionately. "I think Reagan and I should speak privately."
"Of course," Thor replied and leaned in to place a kiss on his mother's cheek.
He turned to Reagan and clapped his hand on Reagan's shoulder. It made her smile.
"I will see you later," he told her.
Reagan nodded, watching him go before turning back towards the Queen.
"Come," Frigga said, guiding her gently. "Let us have a seat."
Reagan complied, though she felt slightly uncomfortable being alone with this woman she barely knew for the first time. She took a seat and the Queen sat down opposite her. A gentle smile played upon her lips and she didn't speak. Almost as if she were waiting. Almost as if she knew there was something Reagan wanted to say to her first.
Seeing no point in putting it off, Reagan leaned forward in her chair, a little apprehensive.
"I, um... I think I owe you an apology," she told the older woman. "I said some things in front of you the other day about Loki that were... I shouldn't have said them. You're his mother, and you care about him. I just... I shouldn't have said them. I'm sorry."
Frigga smiled gently.
"I appreciate that," she said. "I know you haven't found this easy. And if I know my son, he's not been making it any easier."
Reagan bit down on about a hundred and thirty different retorts and instead opted to nod in agreement.
"He told me that the two of you aren't quite managing to get along."
Oh, is that how he put it? She thought to herself.
"No," she replied instead. "No, not at all. But hopefully, that won't be a problem much longer, right?"
Her stomach sank instantly in response to the way Frigga lowered her gaze.
"Right?" she pressed gently, but already she knew.
"I met with the witches," Frigga told her. "And with the High Priestess. Odin has had his scholars pouring over our texts. It seems that there is no way to undo the Mark of Sjelevii. Once forged, it is unbreakable. Everlasting. It appears that you and Loki will be bound to one another... forever."
The colour drained from Reagan's face and her hands began to tremble. Bile fought its way up her throat. A deep well of anxiety swelled in the pit of her stomach and she forced herself to breath steady, making every attempt to keep calm.
"Forever," she repeated in a whisper.
"I understand that at first, this might appear to you as a burden rather than a gift. But you and Loki, you have so much that you could learn from one another. Perhaps if you can begin to think of the Mark as an opportunity - it may be good for you. Both of you."
"Your majesty-"
"Please," Frigga waved a dismissive hand. "I'm not your queen, dear. Call me Frigga."
"Okay," Reagan nodded, still trying to keep her temper even. "Frigga... Loki tried to take over my entire planet. He took control of my friend's mind. He tried to kill us. He succeeded in killing a lot of people... I'm sorry, there's just- there's no way I can ever look at this link between us as a positive thing. To think that I could ever fall in love with him? It's just not possible. And I'm sure he said the same about me. He can't stand me. I don't think he even sees me as a person, let alone... Whatever this mark means- whatever force decides who should get paired up, it got it wrong. So we can't just- just-"
"There have been matches throughout our history who were not bonded romantically," Frigga interrupted gently. "Some soul bonds, though much rarer, become platonically bonded. They're said to have been friendships stronger than anything most of us might be lucky enough to experience. A feeling of home - of family - no matter how far you roam from each other. Your person to walk through life with you, for you never to feel alone, for you to always be able to rely on their guidance, support, their trust as you each navigate your way down your own separate paths. Perhaps, that is what the Mark is supposed to mean for you."
Reagan willed away the tears pooling in her eyes as she shook her head, rejecting the idea.
"No," she murmured. "We won't be that either. I'm sorry but... I just don't want it. I don't want any of it."
Frigga didn't respond to that, for what was there she could say? Instead, she reached out to squeeze her hand comfortingly as a tear spilled down Reagan's cheek.
The moment she closed the door to her chambers Reagan turned the lock and leaned heavily against the door. She lifted her forehead just enough to thump it back down hard against the wood. She ignored the dull ache it created, repeating the action again a little harder as tears stung her eyes. Anger, frustration, fear, despair. Each of them swelled in her chest, battling for dominance. She thought perhaps they were all winning.
The swirl of emotions was so overwhelming that she didn't immediately detect when they were met with more - emotions that weren't her own, emotions that were growing with every second that passed. Anger, resentment, and a bitterness like nothing else she'd ever experienced. She didn't know when he'd lowered his shields, all she knew was that he was inside her head once again with a front-row seat to her cocktail of misery, and it seemed that he did not at all like what he'd found there. His bitterness crashed over her once more, overwhelming her and she shook her head, hopelessly.
It was as if he was growing angrier at the discovery of her distress.
How was that fair?
After all he had done?
When she couldn't even be alone inside her own head?
Did she not have the right to be as upset as he surely was?
She hated him.
"So, I guess we're just stuck like this for the rest of our lives then," she said to him, evenly, managing to fight down the lump forming in her throat. "This is so fucked up."
You are stuck like this, he shot back at her, his voice laced with a newfound venom.
She flinched away from it, though she knew full well it was useless.
I have to endure you for a few short, mortal years, he went on, cruelly. Wait you out. Then I'll be free. But you, you'll never be rid of me. And I will devote my every moment you have left in this world to your anguish, you miserable creature.
Reagan was done trying to hold strong in front of him. She was tired. And alone. And... He was going to be in her head forever, he'd see every single time she'd cry because of him one way or another. So why not start now? She didn't fight it this time. She let despair wash over her as she sank to the floor, curling her knees into her chest as she let herself cry freely.