The first thing Loki did with Crystal, the moment he had some spare time to share with her, was take her out to the mall to buy a clean set of clothes. Wanda had offered to share her wardrobe, but she needed something of her own.
She shadowed him close on his heels, mouth sealed and eyes wide as she drank in the unfamiliar atmosphere that was the Hudson Yards shopping mall. To be frank, Loki didn't appreciate the atmosphere of an elite shopping mall, either. Tony had offered to have things ordered for her, but he thought she might benefit from the opportunity to pick out clothes for herself.
The only issue was that she didn't.
They probably walked by a dozen clothing shops before Loki got frustrated. "Nothing here appeals to you?" He asked, exasperated. He knew it ran deeper than that. She didn't want to make definitive decisions of her own accord. She wanted prompting. It was the same thing she was doing with the Hunger Games, earlier. Having her own opinion was dangerous.
She was trying. She was smart enough to pick up on the way Loki was treating her, and she knew he couldn't be expected to choose things for her forever.
"What will I require?" She hesitated to ask it, hands fussing with the end of the long silver braid hung over her shoulder.
"At the very least, seven full outfits," Loki decided. "So that you'll only need a laundry day every week. And then you might want something nice in case Tony has another function."
She fell silent, eyes darting around her. "And… They can be any outfit?"
He nodded. "I can help you pick some things out, if you'd like. Thor's not exactly a fashion-conscious man either, and I've grown accustomed to the role."
She didn't even try to hide her relief. "If you don't…"
"Mind?' Of course not. And if you see anything that stands out to you, don't even hesitate. We've no budget."
He couldn't quite tell if she had no preference when it came to fashion or if she simply didn't want the burden of decision, so he stuck by simple outfits focused more on comfort than anything else.
That itself was difficult enough when she wouldn't even tell him what she found comfortable in clothing, but eventually he was able to pick up on a few common threads. She felt soft materials were too flimsy, and she liked a wide range of motion, yet nothing too loose. It was an interesting combination, but by the end he began to appreciate the narrow sense of style she'd carved out for herself.
All the while, he kept half an eye focused on what she was looking at throughout the store, anything her gaze might be settling on.
Her shoulders were tight, eyes constantly roving around, searching. There wasn't a lot that did interest her… Until she saw the boots.
Loki hated them. They were hideous hiking boots, in that beige color Americans loved to make their military paraphernalia. All tactile, not built for fashion at all. But once Crystal's attention had been grabbed, she was transfixed.
"Do you like them?" Loki was very careful to control his immediate repugnance reaction.
Crystal startled and tore her gaze away from the display with wide, wary eyes.
She didn't answer, but that was answer enough.
"We've got to get you some kind of shoes," Loki pointed out. "Do you want these?"
"Want…" She echoed. Surely she knew what it meant. Why did she look so lost?
"It's up to you," he continued. "But if you want them, you should get them."
"They…" She fell silent, her nails fidgeting through the end of her braid. "They look comfortable."
That would not have been Loki's first word used to describe them. If this were Thor, he would forbid his brother from being caught dead in these. But Thor knew how to want. He needed fashion advice because he was hopeless, not because he'd never had a choice given him before. It was important to let her have this space.
He felt he had to encourage her, but if he went too far, she would feel like she'd done it because he wanted her to have the boots. Which was inaccurate at best, as well as not helping her decide things for herself regardless of his personal preference.
Which meant he had to say something nice about the boots. That way she was being talked into getting what she wanted, not being commanded. "They look like they have excellent tread."
At least they did have functionality going for them.
"Could I… Try them on?"
That was all Loki needed to hear. In a heartbeat, the shoebox was in his hand, and Crystal was cross-legged on the floor, lacing up her hideous boots.
"I love them…" She whispered. She turned up to him, eyes full of hope and tears. Maybe the boots were a crime to all of nature, but at that moment, Loki loved them too. "Should I get them?"
"If you'd like."
Her hair shifted to cover her face as she looked back down. "I'd like… You'll just let me do anything, won't you?"
Maybe not anything. "I won't stop you," he admitted. "Unless you're hurting someone I care about. Besides that, yes. Do as you will."
"What if I wanted to run away?"
"I would miss you terribly"
She sat bolt upright, that same dangerous gleam flashing in her eyes, but this time there was triumph there, too. "But I could."
"You could."
She looked back down at her hideous shoes. "Why would you miss me?'
This felt like a more serious conversation. Loki eased himself to the floor beside her. "Because there's so much I still want to teach you."
"Like what?"
Where to begin? "I want to show you how to fight for your own life. I want you to be strong enough to rest in your feelings. And I want you to love and not feel afraid of loving." That had gone a little poetic, but it got the point across.
She was in a very vulnerable emotional state, like a flower transplanted from a pot to a wild field. If she was not taught the ways of strength and kindness, she would strangle herself in doubt and terror. He wanted to be the one to teach her that kindness.
He always had, really. That's why he'd wanted a child in the first place.
"You want me to love?" Crystal's voice was hushed, in awe. "To love what?"
"Your boots, for one thing. And yourself. And anything else your heart has room for."
Her face split into a big smile. "I do love my boots. Are you sure… Are you sure I can have them? Just because I love them?"
"You're royalty, and even if you weren't, you have access to a Billionaire's credit card. You can have whatever you think you might love."
Her eyes got very big, and she shook her head. "Just the boots for now. And…"
"And?"
She looked away, hands clasped in her lap. "Peppermint? I love peppermint."
She said it so simply, with such reverence. She loved peppermint. She'd learned one of her lessons already, and Loki was going to give her all the peppermint her heart desired.
That evening they gave her a room in the tower. An official room this time, not just a cell. She stared around it with wide eyes as Tony informed her they could redecorate it however she liked. This time, however, she seemed to recognize it not as a meaningless platitude, but as an actual opportunity.
She could customize her room however she liked. It was rewarding, watching that spark gears of inspiration and creativity turning behind her eyes.
Loki left her to her own devices with a warm heart, but it was only a few hours before Jarvis alerted him that she might be in "emotional distress" and may require assistance.
He found her, hands shaking and clutching a buzzing electric hair clipper as she stared with wild, wet eyes into her bathroom mirror. Her long, silver hair strewn across the floor.
"Crystal?" When she heard his alarmed gasp, she whirled around, sheepish and immediately defensive.
"What are you doing?"
She looked down at the tiles beneath her feet, swallowing down her fear, then she met his eyes with a wavering smile. "Redecorating?" Her voice was hushed, nervous.
"I thought… When you said you wanted to cut your hair, I didn't think you meant cut it all off," he breathed. He was aghast. "Are you alright?"
"I…" Crystal shrunk back against the far bathroom wall, and Loki realized he was once again intimidating her. "I like it."
He wasn't sure what to say. If he'd been the one to do this, it would signal extreme emotional distress. But she said she liked it? Was she just saying to get out of trouble?
"You're not in trouble," he assured. No matter what the case was, he wasn't going to be angry with her for making a choice like this.
"You look angry," she whispered.
"I'm… confused."
"It's like my boots," she rushed, turning off the clippers and setting them on the edge of the sink. Her eyebrows were drawn together in concern. "You don't like it, but you want me to be happy?"
Loki had to laugh. Of course she'd known he hated her boots. How could she not? She wasn't stupid. "Yes. I must admit, this is a long way to go for functionality."
"No," she insisted. Contradicting him directly, he was so proud. "Long hair is easy to grab."
It was like someone punched him in the stomach. He had to reach out a hand to the wall to steady himself.
Of course. He hadn't even thought about why she'd had long hair in the first place. Bucky's hair hadn't been cut, either. It was an acting handle for anyone who wanted to control them: just grab them by the top of the head and go.
Without her hair, there was one less thing tying her to the whims of others. One more burden less to bear, both metaphorically and literally speaking.
"How long have you wanted to do this?" He wondered, and her eyes filled with tears.
"As long as I can remember."
She stood there, scraps of silver hair all along her collar and down the back of her shirt, her hands still shaking, but her head held high.
She understood, now. There was nothing stopping her. No one keeping her. She didn't have to do as anyone pleased, and she only had her own intuition to follow.
Loki couldn't have been more proud. He stepped forward, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and cupped her neck in one hand. "It suits you," he told her. And he meant it.
Thus It Is Told.
Let's go, Lunchies! Three years later and I've finally completed it. I really did enjoy the themes of control and coming to terms with the idea that people don't do as they're told and That Is Okay in this one. It's the kind of story I had a lot of fun writing, and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
TheOnlyHuman.