Hattie would have gone along with Stark's plan straight away, but Loki didn't come back for another four days straight. It was Saturday morning when he finally arrived on the doorstep, announcing his arrival with a huge grin and a glint in his eyes.
"Good morning! I see nothing has changed in my absence." He said, striding into the living room, then stopped, for it was empty. He frowned, then teleported right up to the door of Henrietta's bedroom and pushed on the handle knob.
"No, no, don't come in-!" Someone frantically pressed the door shut on the other side. "I'm getting changed!"
Henrietta locked the door, but she heard a chuckle on the other side.
"You shouldn't have offered me an explanation, sweet, because now I'm terribly intrigued." She heard him sing through the keyhole.
"Bad boy." She muttered, red, tugging on the dress. "I'll be out in a few minutes, go away!"
Loki chuckled and drifted off to his own room. He found it perfectly cleaned up, the bed made, the sheets changed and fresh flowers on the windowsill. He had returned, for he had realised that lack of contact with Henrietta Knott had a negative impact on him, for some reason. Chaos became a little tiring, which wasn't like him, but then again he had not slept for about five days and his hands had started to shake rather irritably. He had a vague memory of her touch, of her weight against his empty chest, and a feeling of warmth that the rest of the world lacked.
He turned with a smile just as she clipped down the stairs, then froze, his fingers clenching behind his back involuntarily.
She was wearing a green dress, very well fitted but still modest, pearl earrings and her hair was done up in a manner that revealed her swan-like neck.
Henrietta folded her arms and matched his gaze.
"Where are you going?" Loki said, somewhat edgily. Maybe he knew that she was not dressed for him.
"Out." She replied gently.
"At this hour?"
She frowned and looked out of the window.
"It's eleven AM. A perfectly acceptable time to go out, I think."
The crease between his brows deepened.
"You're going out on a date."
"That's right." She said, although she was having some trouble with keeping her voice steady. "I don't see what the problem is."
"Problem?" He laughed coldly, folding his arms behind his back. "No, there's no problem with going out on a date with an empty can of dried bait!"
"For your information, I lost a bet. And watch your words, Loki of Asgard, for I don't like my friends being insulted, nor when you raise your voice."
"I don't care whether you lost a bet. As your guardian and the older one here, I forbid you to go out with that creature. No. It's final."
Henrietta scoffed incredulously, unable to hold it in any longer, at the end of her tether as she was.
"You know what? Give me one reason why I should stay, and, say, spend that time with you instead. Go on!"
He looked at her as though she had just plunged a knife into his chest with a smile. She clenched her fists.
"You don't listen to my suggestions, you leave me alone, then come back once you've had it up to here with your own madness!"
"Don't speak of things you cannot understand." He came closer, anger radiating off him and charging the air. "You'll never be able to understand-"
"Never?" She hissed. "Not even if you spoke to me about it? Because last time I checked you haven't even bid me good night before going off to set a building on fire, Loki Odinson-!"
"No!" He took a step back, trembling, fire in his eyes. "Not Odinson. You're behind on the facts, my dear."
Henrietta opened her mouth to retort, then fell silent and froze, for she saw him transform before her. His skin became blue, blue like a glacier, making his countenance cold and hostile, his eyes turned red as dripping blood and fixed themselves into her. Loki Laufeyson bared his teeth in a mocking grin - they had grown sharp like fangs and looked menacing.
"Loki Laufeyson to you, Knott." He swept a dripping bow. "This is who I am. Oh, you didn't expect it, did you? Ha! She didn't expect it!"
He hissed out a terrible laugh and spread out his arms, gesturing to an invisible audience.
"No, look at Henrietta Knott, expecting someone else. Expecting a hero, perhaps as beautiful and golden as THOR ODINSON!"
She staggered backwards, her hand to her mouth, hot tears in her eyes.
"Perhaps you should have taken a leaf out of his book while you could!" She cried, trembling, fire in her lungs.
Loki paled more, now looking paper-white, his nostrils flaring. Ice shrouded him, creeping outwards along the floorboards towards her and snapping the furniture.
"You insufferable woman." His voice trembled. "I should have left you in that park, that day. I should have dripped that black blood into your face, so you would be prepared for this sight!"
Henrietta covered her face and screamed, stamping her foot.
"You know what? Fine. Fine!" She clenched her fists and sent him a death-glare. "I've had enough. Enough! I'm going out now, and when I come back, I want you out of my house and gone! You're in perfect health, you're absolutely in your prime and you can take care of yourself, like you said!"
She didn't really know what she was saying, and nor did Loki Laufeyson, for the sickness had gripped him around the throat and sent bitterness and hatred channelling through his words and veins.
"I'll do just that. Perfect." He said, spitting laughter in her direction as she turned and thundered down the stairs. "Go out. Break a leg. Break your leg!"
The door slammed shut. Loki was left alone, unwelcome in the house he had unconsciously begun to call home. This pierced him like an opening old wound and hid all restraint and consideration deep in a place he could not access.
He yelled, sparks building up, then cried out - green electricity shot out in all directions, thrashing the furniture, shattering glass, crumbling walls. Loki the cat narrowly escaped out of the window as the lamps and tiles fell off the ceiling, as green fire was spat out of the sparks and began to feast on the wooden floors and chairs, hissing and spitting.
Loki strode through the mess and smoke, stone-faced, watching as everything was destroyed. A terrible grin adorned his now-white face as he watched the photographs fall and shrivel up in the flames. He watched as Haldanson and a small Henrietta standing hand in hand burned, distorting their happy faces in flame.
He would wait and watch as she returned, feasting on her anguish as he did to others before her. He would have revenge, revenge for…
For what, precisely?
He felt a spike of hesitation in his heart - but it was drowned out as quickly as it surfaced. It didn't matter what for, if there wasn't a reason. What mattered now is that she would pay dearly for her words and actions.
Loki waited, his head resting against the bench in the garden, humming to himself. The longer he waited, the longer he listened to the ruthless cracking of his green flames and dwelled on the burning photographs, the more he grew restless.
At noon, he shifted uncomfortably on the bench and blew out an irritated sigh. How long did courtship dates take? She should be here. Any time. Any minute.
When the sun had travelled past its highest point and began to dip towards its place of rest, the gathering clouds split and it began to rain.
There's something about the feeling of rain dripping delicately down one's face that can move even the hardest of hearts, and that's what began to happen with Loki Laufeyson. He unfolded his hands from above his stomach and straightened, looking curiously into the sky, squinting. The cool of the droplets melted into his skin and soothed him, then made feelings grow that only set him more on edge.
He turned around to look at the smouldering house. Then it hit him.
He was the problem. He was the reason this burned - he was the reason he had been asked to leave in the first place.
The burning house wasn't a problem. He could revert it into the state it was this morning. It was the fact that he had tried to cause the person he cared about most in all nine realms grief, true grief, tried to rid her of hope and warmth to make her see what it was like, that set him trembling and loathing of himself.
"Laufeyson, you fool." He said, getting up slowly and pacing, then slowing and glaring. "No, I'm not the fool."
The sickness made a comeback faster than anybody could have anticipated. He began to savour the smell of smoke and vengeance again as he turned to the house, chuckling.
I'm going to sit on what's left of the couch, he thought to himself, so I can take in the view with full pleasure. That was his plan and that's what he did.
And he waited.
The clock had survived the fire and so he allowed himself to glance at it, pretending he had no real interest in doing so, then felt a strange stab in the heart.
It was half past four.
Henrietta had been gone for five hours. She couldn't have been gone for that long… It was only a date, and she wouldn't have agreed on a long outing. She couldn't have.
Five. Half-past five.
Loki's insides began to grow cold, and it wasn't his jotun form.
Six. Six-thirty.
His tongue started to bleed, for he had worried it viciously between his teeth.
Seven. Eight.
It was dark. He clenched his fist, insides battling within him, then gave a whimper and stood - then laughed, for there was a scuffle at the door and it opened!
"Woah…" A male voice sounded. "What the heck happened here?"
Loki's brows were pulled together in disbelief. He opened the door and stood there, taking in who it was, for it definitely wasn't Henrietta.
No.
It was Stark.
The billionaire turned and took him in with a glance, then the rest of the house. After a moment of an incredulous staring contest, he smirked emptily and folded his arms.
"Trusts him with her life, did she say?" He muttered. "Oh, Henrietta. Who would have thought-?"
Loki pinned him to the wall, his face close to his, his hand around his neck, nostrils flared, eyes murderous.
"Where is Hattie?" He hissed. "Speak. Now!"
Stark clutched his wrist and grimaced, but managed to remove it from around his neck and stagger back.
"I'm not looking for a fight. Not here. Not now."
"As if that was your choice." He scoffed, green sparks sparking over his skin. "Where is she?"
Stark raised his eyebrows, eyed him in disbelief, then shook his head and ran a hand down his face, deflated.
"Man. She was hit by a truck. Yeah. There was a robbery, some Enhanced swept the traffic, the truck went flying, and…"
Even Tony Stark, who fed a deep hatred for the shadowed being in front of him, broke off at the way the god of lies's face changed. After a moment, the man before him began to look so bad that his kind nature broke his stubborn barrier enough to offer aid.
"Do you need to sit down?" He gestured. "You don't look well."
Loki felt his legs weaken. He leaned against the wall with a hand then pressed a fist to his mouth and bit it, his eyes tightly shut. He felt shot. Blood dripped down his fist, he bit it so hard. He felt darkness gathering behind his eyelids.
"Hey, sit." Stark said, kicking over a small, charred chest of drawers and poking him apprehensively in the back. "Sit, sit, sit, we can kill each other later."
Loki had enough strength to collapse on the crude stool and cover his face with his hands.
"Breathe. Hello?" Stark gripped his shoulder. "In. Out. Uh-huh. That's it."
Loki sucked in a breath and juddered it back out. He managed to find a little control within him, enough to speak.
"Does she… Is she-?"
"Alive? Yeah, but barely. We have her on life support… Man, I hate to say this, but she might not make it."
She might not make it.
Loki saw a grave. He saw black. He heard a voice, announcing her departure into the unknown realm. His mind began to give shape to it. He began to feel her absence, feel how the stems of flowers felt against his skin as he carried them to place upon her eternal bed.
Stark took a step back as Loki heaved and vomited to the right of the charred stool, coughing and drawing breath with great trouble.
The asgardian pressed his hands over his mouth and nose, forcing himself to stay in the present. Nothing before had caused such an adverse reaction to him, nothing. Not the torture in the dungeons, not in the hands of Thanos - nothing.
Stark watched him, starting to believe Henrietta's words. He pushed his hatred aside and clapped a hand on the Lie-smith's shoulder, feeling how tight his own throat had become.
"There's hope." He muttered, clutching it tighter at each word. "We've got the best doctors in. She's bound to pull through."
"Where?"
"The main hospital - you know, the one in the square. If you must teleport, do it into one of the store cupboards, or you'll give someone a heart attack."
Loki stood, tottering, then bowed his head and disappeared with a flash. Tony shook his head and sighed, his own spirits so low it was a wonder they didn't scrape the floor as he moved around.
"I don't understand." He muttered, looking at the charred walls and broken furniture. "I don't understand, and I don't think I want to."
Loki had enough senses left to magick himself into normal clothes, not noticing he looked as though he had just come back from a funeral as he did so. He stormed to the reception desk and knocked loudly on the glass.
The reception lady was on the phone, chatting away, and ignored him. He rapped louder - she swivelled around in her chair and talked on; then gasped as he crumpled the glass into a sphere with a green flash, leaned over the desk and ripped the cord from her phone.
"I need to see someone. They're on life support." He said, throwing the cable away violently. "Now."
She sent him a funny look from beneath her fake eyelashes and put the phone down.
"I'm sorry, Sir, visiting hours are from three to six-"
"Listen, if you don't tell me in which room Henrietta Knott is lying right now, I will transfigure you into something like this." He brandished the glass sphere, then smashed it on the floor in a single move whilst making direct eye contact. "Understand me?"
He must have looked deranged, or something, because she fumbled with the keyboard and with a few clicks, spoke.
"She's on the third floor in ward B. Room fifty-two."
Loki turned and flew through the corridors, knocking nurses and workers aside. He stormed the stairs, turned, found the ward, then reached room fifty two.
He flung open the door and stood, blinking in the half-light.
There was a mask over her face, regulating her breathing. The left side of her face was bruised and cut and so was the rest of her side, the black bruises disappearing into the hospital gown she was in. The deathly silence was broken by the cold bleep, bleep of the life support machine, as well as the clicking of the water feed.
Loki managed to reach the corner of her bed before his legs gave way. He clutched at the frame, digging his fingernails into his skin in an attempt to stay sharp.
"Henrietta. Henrietta. Hell, I'm a fool. They were right."
He heaved himself upright shakily, then dragged a chair over to her side and collapsed on it, feeling the urge to weep bitterly, but alas, no tears would come, for his eyes were cursed to stay dry. He buried his face in his hands, shaking instead.
"I'm not worthy to even breathe in your presence." He choked out, sliding his head out of them. "Not worthy even to look at you. Odin, I'm sorry. Sorry..."
His voice became dry and bitter. His chest refused to expand. He had to draw breath by force.
He sat there, wracked by his own thoughts and madness until the light was snapped on and the door opened. He tried to look up, then covered his face again, for he had snapped his eyes on Thor.
"Of course they let you in past visiting hours." He whispered. "No woman could resist the handsomeness of Thor Odinson."
He looked up at the huge figure again, challenging him to comment, but to his surprise, his brother's eyes were wet.
"Stand, Loki Odinson." He growled.
"I'm not-"
"Stand, I said!"
Loki shook his head bitterly, then rose, his movements sluggish.
"Not now, Thor. You may not have realised, but now's not the time for… for the-"
He cut himself off, speechless, for Thor had grabbed him and packed his head into his chest in a massive embrace, clutching him as though he couldn't let go.
"Shut up, stupid." He heard him growl, as he tried to say something clever. "You don't have to say something witty every time something happens, you know."
"You're stupid." He managed weakly, although he still couldn't weep. "And get off me, we detest each other, as you may recall."
Thor slapped his back and let him go, sitting him down on the chair.
"Mother and I missed you. Father forbid us to come down to see you in the dungeons. He said that's against the point of the punishment."
"Not now, Thor." He said, burying his face in his hands again. "There are more important matters at hand."
There was a solemn silence, broken by the bleep, bleep, bleep of the life support machine. Loki peeked at her through his fingers and trembled. She looked as though she was dead. She was pale, and even her lips were pink instead of red. Thor watched him, then sighed.
"You know, I was thinking that if we could somehow get a healer in here-"
Loki rose so quickly that Thor took a step back.
"Yes! Yes, you're right!" He cried, his face lighting up. "For once, you actually used your brain! Come with me," he added as an afterthought. "we could use your effect on females."
"What-?"
"Come, I said!"
They reached the reception lady, who looked torn between glaring at the raven-haired madman and fluttering her eyelashes at the tall, very attractive He-man look-alike.
"Tell me where I can find Filip Greer." Loki slammed his open palms on the desk, leaning against it.
"Please." Thor added with a grin. The reception lady smirked.
"Doctor Greer? He's due to leave in five minutes. He works on wards C and D on the fifth floor. You might catch him before he leaves"
"Thanks." Thor said, before jogging after his brother. He frowned at his back.
"What exactly do you have in mind?"
"Greer is a healer. He'll be able to fix Henrietta. I assume the only reason why he hasn't done so already is because he didn't hear of the accident."
They reached the ward, only to find that he had already gone.
"But you might catch him if you use the stairs. The lift takes some time." Explained one of the nurses on duty.
Thor and Loki thundered down the stairs, Loki flying down them with impressive agility, Thor taking four at a time with admirable practicality.
"There. The blonde man. Hoy, Greer, stop!" Loki called, as they descended the last flight. "Rejoice, for you can be useful!"
Filip Greer turned at the voice, then raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, it's you."
"Nice to see you too." Loki bobbed his head stiffly. "Long story short, Henrietta is in ward B room fifty-five after being hit by a truck…"
"...And apparently you're a healer." Thor finished, when Loki broke off and bit on his tongue, the statement setting his knees weak again.
"I am." Greer said, looking Thor up and down. "Has she been seen to?"
"Yes, she's on life support-" the god of thunder started.
"-then there's not much I can do." Filip looked down. "They must have done all they could if she's in that ward."
Loki missed a beat. His lightness of expression hardened into a dark one.
"Have you lost your mind?" He managed to say without spluttering. "Go up there right now and put her right, as you did me!"
"I already told you-"
Loki lost his temper. Filip Greer shot upwards very suddenly and somehow got pinned to the ceiling on two long, silver chains, so that he was still on Loki's eye-level. Thor didn't comment, sensing something was off.
The reception area went quiet as Thor pulled out his hammer, everybody pausing to watch.
"What are you doing!" Greer cried, flailing. "Let me down!"
"I don't feel like it." Loki said airily, approaching him. "Not unless you decide to go up to ward B, room fifty-two."
"I already told you-!"
Loki pulled out a cruel-looking, silver blade from a sudden gathering of green sparks and pressed it against the healer's neck.
"And I'm telling you to do so, unless you wish to hang until you bleed out every drop of blood after I sever your scalp!"
"Police!" He called, desperately. Loki scoffed and shared a glance with Thor, who was looking down at the man then at his hammer as though he was joking.
"One second, brother." Thor said, his eyes not leaving the man. "Do you know what Stark told me after going through… uh… Henrietta's personal files?"
"I'm going to pretend I don't understand right now, Thor." Loki said, gesturing for him to continue impatiently. "What did Stark say?"
"He said that she put in her will, should she die early, that her house and uncle's money goes to a certain man named Filip Egalson Greer and his family, unless she gets married in the meantime. And last time I looked, she's got a pretty big house, you know, and I think she's still not married... His lack of cooperation may come from that, what do you reckon?"
Loki the Cruel laughed a terrible, mad laugh, his eyes black and burning.
"So that's what we're playing at?" He cried shrilly at the dangling man. "We're playing suck-up, are we? You disgusting pile of waste-!"
Thor blocked his sword with his hammer.
"This is still Hattie's friend, brother." He said with a cold indifference. "We don't want her wasting tears on him."
"Ah, you're right." Loki hissed, after his jaw loosened. "Now. You're going up to the ward or you die. I will kill you slowly and make everybody watch. Was I clear enough?"
Filip looked at Thor in terror, as though crying out for help.
"My brother won't help you, this time." He grinned, bending down and sending him a look so deranged that a mortal would have shredded under its impact. "So, what will it be? Tell me, for I'm getting impatient, and the clock ticks on, tick-tock!"
He brought the blade closer to his temple. Greer flinched, shutting his eyes tight.
"I'll do it. I'll do it!" He begged, turning red from the blood rushing down to his head. "Let me down!"
Thor nodded. Loki swung the sword and severed the chains, watching placidly as Greer landed on the floor looking crumpled.
"Now, off you hop. Haste, haste!" He prodded him with the blade, causing him to jump.
They arrived in Hattie's room at break-neck speed. Only Loki slowed down, unable to re-enter the room. He paused and leaned against the doorframe, just as Thor stole a glance over his shoulder at him.
"I'll tell you when he's done, brother." He said, watching him slide down against the wall with worry. "I'll call you in."
"Bash his skull in if he does anything to her, Thor." He managed weakly, then leaned his head back, strength leaving him.
He didn't even notice as Greer left. Only when a shuffle of footsteps came from the other end of the corridor did he break free from his rest.
"Are you alright, Sir?" A doctor said, looking down at him with concern.
"Never better, my dear man. Please be on your way."
Thor opened the door and nodded to the doctor, then crouched down beside Loki.
"He said she'll wake up in about half an hour. Maybe more. Her lips are red again, come see."
Loki shot upwards and entered the room. It was true. The bruises had disappeared, as did the cuts, leaving only faint scars that were practically invisible. She was unhooked from the apparatus and breathing normally again.
Loki slid down into the chair, his nerves completely worn out.
Thor watched the man who, as all were convinced, was heartless, then smiled.
"Don't worry so. She'll be fine."
Loki dragged a palm down his face then rested his forehead on his clasped hands.
"Yes, yes. I know."
His brother knew him well enough to know he was thanking him in his own, hard way. He nodded, then cast a final look at Henrietta and sighed.
"I'll leave you, then. I suppose we'll find out when she wakes up-"
"-when she wakes up?"
Stark had stuck his head into the room and was watching the gathering with narrowed eyes.
"What did you do that she's suddenly healthy? Not that I have a problem with that, oh, no. I'm very glad." His eyes scoured the two brothers, then rested on Thor's hammer. "If I may ask… Why's your hammer out in a hospital ward?"
Loki Laufeyson flicked his eyes in his direction, but said nothing. Thor shifted, so that he was leaning on it and grunted.
"Some complications with a healer, Stark. Nothing to worry about."
"Ah. Is that why there are chains in reception?"
The two brothers exchanged glances. Thor grinned. Loki almost smiled. Stark shrugged, then gestured with his hands.
"Come, Thor. SHIELD calls."
"Yes, captain." He shouldered his hammer. "Take care of yourself, brother."
"Don't bash your head on the way out." Loki muttered in reply. "It's already big enough."
The doors shut behind the two men, and Loki was left alone with his thoughts. They tortured him more than ever, although the sickness had receded notably as a result of the shock.
He dared look at Henrietta, breathing peacefully once more.
He was going to have to change his character. A lot. A real lot. Especially if he wanted to keep her, to keep himself in her life.
But why, something surfaced in his thoughts, why do you want to stay in her life?
"Why?" He muttered, absentmindedly. "Because I will shatter if I do not."
But why?
Loki whimpered and covered his face. His mind was in pieces. He was weak, unstable. He couldn't bear being in such a state much longer, and yet, when Hattie Knott was around, it all became tolerable. To the point that he wished to smile, to practise honesty, to become something different to the god of lies. He wanted to become Loki, the one who's cheeks she once kissed and gave him the name of a best friend. The one who she looked up to for protection. The one whom she cared about.
"Odin." He hissed. "I'm not capable of change…"
He looked up, and noticed how crowded her bedside table was. There were at least four bouquets of flowers and loads of cards which perhaps a nurse had opened for her. He read Stark's name, Thor's scribble, some female names of friends. They were all so colourful, pretty; sane.
Him, on the other hand…
He got up and looked in the mirror wearily. He was dressed in a black suit and tie, with his black hair hanging limply, his skin chalk-pale, his eyes blue and tired. Not to mention what the mirror could not reflect. The gaping hole in his chest. The guilt, the shame, the fear, the anger… the list went on, and none part of it gave him even a sliver of hope.
He turned as she stirred, muttering something in her sleep, then bit his lip and left the room, heading towards a phone.
