Chapter Text
Beep...
Beep…
“Hydra has supplied you with the only ‘human’ 0-8-4 in existence. In return we expect certain resources and amenities. That was the agreement, Victor.”
Her head felt fuzzy and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls. She tried to move her arm but it barely twitched. Her eyes were sticky, felt weighed down. Overall, she felt like what she imagined being hit with a truck felt like. Achy, bruised, possibly broken and bleeding and unable to move to check. Weird how calm she was about this, but not much can possibly faze you after just about dying from a gutshot.
“You will address me as ‘Doctor’ or ‘My Lord’, I do not negotiate with terrorists. Bad for business…”
Beep…
Skye heard a sharp clicking noise, the safety on a pistol being turned off.
Beep...
“My orders are to deliver the girl and retrieve the payment, and use whatever means are deemed necessary for your cooperation.”
She knew that voice, deep, but it was harsher than she remembered ever hearing.
“...Do not point that mundane toy at me, Garrett. You will get everything you came here for, as soon as I have proof of her suspected origins.”
Beep...
A shuffling sound, “And how long will that take, Doctor?”
A thick, latex covered hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to look into a painfully bright light and a metal face. A face for nightmares.
“As long as it takes, Garrett. As long as it takes.”
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In the highest tower of the golden realm of Asgard, full of its shining golden people, one god clutched his head and screamed for the voices to stop.
Why could they not leave?
Why could not he be given some form of peace?
Have they not taken enough from him already- leave his sanity at least.
It was different than the voice of the Other, or of Him, but he could not trust that it was not another trick. Another means of taking all the cruelty and madness bottled up inside and bringing it forward.
It was not his children, he was certain.
Sleipnir was visible from here, galloping around the paddock outside the royal stables. Finally free of the harness Odin kept on him.
Nothing could touch Hela in her realm of dead things, corpses and spirits awaiting Ragnarok, and only he and Sleipnir knew the way to her.
He would know if Fenrir had been released, for there was nothing in this world or any other that could stop him.
The twins…the twins still slept a sleep like death, Sigyn, his Once-Consort, still watching over them. They would be here with him if it were otherwise.
If Jormungandr had found a way off of Midgard, then it was one Loki- in all his knowledge- had never found, and the armies of all the realms would have been mustered and sent to Midgard by now. However, chances were that Loki wouldn’t be able to recognize his skin-changing son after so many years apart.
Loki may be now a prisoner of his own making, but he would know that much. He would know if his children’s situations had changed. Loki wandered from the window where he had collapsed to his knees on hearing that pleading voice, that terrified, lonely- No! No, he could not allow himself to become attached, to feel sentiment towards it, or they would have another foothold in his mind. It was his mind not theirs and he would take it back one piece at a time if he had to.
Nothing saddened Loki more than to think of his children, lost and imprisoned. He had never forgiven Odin for taking them from him, never understood. Not until the day his true heritage was revealed. Odin, for all his talk of equality, of the might, the ideal of Asgard and her perfection, was only that. Talk. And his words were cheap things, gilded in gold but truly made of rusted iron. For all that he had said Loki was his son, that Loki was just as loved, as cherished, as much a thing of pride as his not-brother, he was not. He was a monster...and he gave that curse to his children.
With determination in his step, he strode towards the towering bookcases that covered the north side of the room; he pulls one out, without looking but knowing that he has more than likely read it before. Sitting down, he prepares to focus on the words before him; a bell-like sound rang through his head. His eyes frantic searched the room for anything that could have made the noise.
...Help...
...Do not...
...Father...
...Loki...
...Please...
...Alone...
Small words broke through the din of constant static that was supposed to block out the influence of Tha- Him.
That was not Him. It couldn’t be. And it wasn’t any of his children, at least he didn’t think so, but it called him father. Why would it do that?
He would know if it was one of his- wouldn’t he?
*Knock Knock*
Loki quickly reverted to the form of the AllFather. “Enter.”
A guard entered, in full golden regalia and horned helm.
‘Do you really wish to go there...Cow?’
Memories were horrid things. Carrying too much, too much everything, but especially sentiment. Such sentiment.
The guard, an unimportant creature of mediocre skill, knelt and saluted who he believed to be his king.
“Your Majesty, a message from Prince Thor has just arrived. It seems to be rather urgent. “
Loki-as-Odin made a waving gesture so the guard could deliver the news. Maybe he had finally groveled enough and Jane Foster had agreed to wed the bumbling oaf.
The guard opened the metal canister, unrolling a thin sheaf of white paper. How mundane.
“He sends his apologies, but he must remain on Midgard a while longer, he then continues to speak something about a nephew raised from the dead and niece in need of rescuing.”
What?
What!
Loki-as-Odin sat in silent contemplation. The guard began to fidget nervously, awaiting his king’s orders.
“Leave me,” Loki needed to be alone to consider this message.
He did not notice the foot soldier scurry out of sight from the room. Like a disease-ridden rodent. Only the letter left at his feet.
Loki eased the glamour from his person, summoning the letter left behind.
If what Thor’s note stated was in fact, truth, then...then what? What was it Loki wanted? To leave Asgard, to abandon all which he had fought so hard to achieve?
Perhaps...perhaps it was time to leave this behind.
He could leave, hide, disappear from everything, everyone...maybe his past.
He could take Sleipnir, make him look like an ordinary horse, take the twins from their sleeping beds…he could return to Midgard, not to conquer, but to blend in. He used to be able to do it so why not now?
Why not?
He could find the meaning to Thor’s message. He should use the time to find better ways of freeing his children from their curses. Sleipnir from his solitary form, Vali and Narfi from their slumber, Fenrir from his chains...Hela traversed worlds as she pleased and she told him she enjoyed Midgard best. Jormungandr...Loki could find him and do what was necessary to fix him...Yes, yes, this could all work out. If only he hadn't lost his mind before his last venture to Midgard.
Such is life, not even Loki, with all his wondrous power, could change the past. Perhaps it was time to look in on the great wizard, the most supreme of arcane arts. May that he could help, in the matter of Loki’s children, and in Loki’s mind.
Determination filling him, he set a course for the sleeping chambers- a mausoleum if there ever was- where his youngest boys lay in enchanted slumber. First, Vali and Narfi, then Sleipnir, then...Earth.
Daddy!