Chapter 1: Cosmic Love
Chapter Text
12:43pm, May 4th, 2012.
The battle of Cirica.
Burnt skies, broken rubble, scattered red mountains of sand.
Castles held up by unwilling citizens, and the change of hands, mother jealous, daughter trusting.
A coronation doomed to end in bloodshed.
A portal, torn through time, awash with malicious lies, the power needed to cast a hated one aside.
The fall of their star, their mighty Icarus.
The one who flew too close to the sun,
Who bought into her own greed for fun,
only to be burned,
by the consequences she’d earned.
The fall was harsh, and her broken scream, ripped from her lips by a terrible, primal anger, faded out into the cosmic waves surrounding her. The blood stained beneath her fingernails, her body aching as she hopelessly reached out for her salvation, but as she tumbled through the darkness, her soul crushed effortlessly between two of her mother’s brittle fingers, a tear fell from her empty eyes.
Raya Cain.
The Angel of Chaos, who flew too close to the sun, and got what she deserved.
*
Stark Tower, 2:37pm, May 4th, 2012.
Loki stared up at the group, Hawkeye’s arrow thrust into his face, and sighed, his joints aching with every small movement as he pushed himself up, his breathing shaky.
“If it’s all the same to you…” he said quietly, his eyes moving over Thor’s disappointed face, Tony’s cocky smirk, Natasha’s irritated expression, “I’d like that drink now.”
Thor scoffed, reaching down to pull him off the glass covered floor, and Loki flinched hard away from his hand, wiping the cut on the side of his face with his sleeve as he got to his own feet, his eyes wandering over to the tesseract.
The Hulk grunted angrily as he stood up, and Loki eyed him warily, sighing in exasperation as Thor unlocked the handcuffs again, begrudgingly offering his hands up.
Suddenly, a sharp, whirring noise echoed through the air, and for a moment, the room darkened, the sun seeming to disappear, swallowed by the clouds building on the horizon, lightning crackling deep within them.
Loki looked around confusedly, and he stumbled back as Thor advanced on him, yelling over the sound,
“What are you doing, brother?”
Loki glanced to his right as a blast of cold air swept over him, raising goosebumps on his cloaked arms, stepping back in panic as the particles warped before them and he yelled back,
“This isn’t me!”
Steve Rogers moved to the front of the group, his shield raised as the air before them seemed to rip open, and dark smoke began to pour out over the floor, thunder rumbling loudly as Loki hid himself behind Thor.
He knew it was a portal, but he had never seen one quite like it before; the patterns the ripples created in the air weren’t waves, rather they seemed to extend into strings, red strings of power that welded their way through the air, wind rushing through the room as the Avengers stood their ground, weapons raised.
“Hey, Sparky!” Tony called, turning to catch Thor’s gaze, and Loki rolled his eyes at the nickname. “Wanna keep your psycho in check?”
“He says it isn’t him!” Thor replied gruffly, his grip tightening on Mjolnir’s handle as the high pitched screeching grew louder.
Tony rolled his eyes, but quickly turned back to the portal that was rapidly expanding before him, red light flashing around the room. Loki watched as the red strings dug into the tiled walls, shifting nervously as Natasha pushed past him, moving closer to the darkness.
It only took a moment before the whirring grew unbearable, and as he winced at the irritating noise, the world around him seemed to implode.
He was thrown back by the force of the portal’s expansion, and something crashed into him, flattening him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him.
The Tesseract skidded past his outstretched fingertips, and as smoke swept over him, he lost sight of it, his chest seizing at the thought of losing it.
Before he could catch his breath, a hand grabbed him by his cloak and tugged him up the small steps in the centre of the room, a groan pulled from his lips as his skin was roughly pressed against broken glass.
His heart was racing, the world was blurred, black smoke obscuring his vision as he fought to breathe, and as he felt something cold press against his throat, he froze in fear.
The person holding him was breathing hard, their body trembling, and as they moved their arm over his chest to hold him against them, he could see that their white gloves were covered in crimson stains.
Blood.
“Loki! Loki!” Thor’s voice called from amidst the haze, but Loki didn’t dare to answer, far too aware of the knife beginning to cut into the skin of his throat.
The cloud of smoke was vanishing, but now the sky had opened and released the heavens, rain pounding against the roof and flying in through the open wall of Stark Tower. The Avengers were regaining their senses, and Thor was first to stumble out into Loki’s sight, and for once, he was relieved to see his brother’s furious face turned towards him.
A woman’s voice whispered into his ear as the grip on his chest tightened, rough and coarse,
“Don’t move.”
Loki remained frozen, keeping his arms at his sides to not be perceived as a threat, watching as Thor marched towards them, Mjolnir raised threateningly as he rushed out of the smoke.
Loki could feel the trembling hands of his captor as they roughly gripped his face, their knife pressed lightly against his skin, prickling him every now and then, and he could sense her fear; it was palpable.
“What sort of trick is this, Loki?” Steve yelled as he advanced on them, his shield raised, and Loki simply glared at him, fearful that any words he spoke would lead to a painfully bloody demise.
“Be quiet!” The woman screamed, her tone panicked, barely gripping onto any sense of control, and Loki caught a flash of messy, brown hair as she leant slightly forward, the edges singed as if it had been dragged through flame. “I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!”
Her threats were broken by choked punctuations, and as the Hulk lumbered carelessly forward, her nails dug into Loki’s cheek, her breathing quickening, a hiss of irritation pulled from between Loki’s teeth at the stinging pain.
Hawkeye raised his hand to stop the Hulk, and the green monster slowly came to a stop, his head tilted to the side in confusion as he studied the two people on the floor.
“Go ahead, we’ve been trying for that all day.” Tony said dryly, and Thor threw a dark glare towards him as he yelled,
“Stark!”
“Right, brothers and whatnot, sure-“
Loki bared his teeth in outrage as he was pulled upright, the gloved hands of his captor lifting him from the ground as she stood, stumbling slightly as the Avengers argued loudly.
His eyes darted around the red stained floor around them, and it was with a shock that he realised he could feel blood seeping through the back of his cloak, and as she shook violently, her knife still held against his throat, he understood her panic.
She’s bleeding out.
“Shut up!” She screamed hysterically, and as Loki was pulled into her shoulder, he saw the glimmer of tears in her dark eyes. “Shut up, shut up, all of you!”
Outside, the thunder rolled, shaking the building with the force of it, and lightning struck less than a minute later, the sky brightening, and the electricity in Stark Tower flickered as Loki was carelessly forced forwards, the knife still pressed to his throat.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Thor yelled over the rushing wind, his eyes narrowed even as his expression betrayed a hint of shocked admiration.
The woman was swaying dangerously now, her grip on Loki faltering as her breathing skipped, and he knew he could escape soon. She was fading, about to knocked out by her own loss of blood.
“I…” Her voice was growing weaker, and her stance wavered for a moment as she struggled to force out words. “I am-“
There was a loud thud from behind Loki’s head, and he winced as the tip of the knife grazed his cheek before clattering to the floor. He turned quickly to see Natasha rubbing her wrist, the unconscious woman lying at her feet, a pool of blood gathering around her, and Loki took in a deep breath, ignoring the trembling of his usually steady hands.
Natasha met Loki’s eyes and shrugged as she reached forward to grab his hands, fastening a destabiliser over his wrist, muttering,
“She’s bleeding, she was hyperventilating. This was the only way to get her to calm down.”
She clipped a destabiliser over the woman’s wrist, and gestured towards Thor before wiping her hands on her suit.
“I must say, I quite admire your style, Agent Romanoff.” Loki said, smiling even as Thor grabbed his shoulder and pulled him towards the doorway. “Very… violent.”
“Shut up.” Thor mumbled irritably, and Loki sighed, allowing himself to be dragged away, but as they drew nearer to the doorway, his eyes strayed back to the woman on the floor that Natasha was now tending to.
Now he was away from her, he could make out the severity of her injuries; a large slice up her arm, as if someone had tried to gut her and their hand had slipped. Her blood blended almost too well with her tattered bodysuit, and as he watched her breathe for a moment, her chest seeming to shake laboriously with each one, he saw the marred skin of her stomach, burnt and red raw.
Curiosity was building in him, but before he could say anything, Thor forced him out of the room, and he glanced over at him in irritation, only to be met with his brother’s grim expression.
“Even you would not do this.” Thor said softly as they made their way through the halls of Stark Tower, and Loki chuckled darkly.
“What makes you think that, brother?”
Thor’s face darkened, and he remained silent for a few moments as he unlocked a door to their right, pushing Loki through it, his shove harsher than Loki had been expecting as he stumbled into the room.
“I don’t think you are that cold hearted.” Thor said, and Loki realised that for once, his expression was inscrutable. “Not yet.”
Loki laughed softly as Thor continued to look at him, and he smiled tiredly as he whispered,
“You always did underestimate me.”
The muscle in Thor’s cheek tensed, and Loki kept his smile even as his brother crossed his arms, evaluating his every move and automatically tensing in response to the silent threat.
“Don’t disappoint me again, Loki.”
Thor’s voice was gruff, coarse, a way Loki had never really heard it before, and it confused him. As he met Thor’s eyes, he was shocked to see betrayal burning in his gaze, and he shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the destabiliser on his wrist in an attempt to distill the shame that had suddenly manifested in the pit of his stomach.
Thor scoffed, his expression grim as he turned away, and for a moment, Loki saw a flash of that familiar face, their father, hidden in his brother’s expression, before the door was slammed shut, the locks clicking automatically.
Loki took in a shaky breath and forced himself to look away from the door, his chest strangely hollow as his eyes moved over the bland room, white walls stretching up to create a cell.
As he slowly moved towards the bed, his mind wandered back over to the bloodied woman who’d landed in his arms, remembering the way her voice had stuttered with panic, the way she’d fought with every last piece of her strength to remain in control.
Where had she come from? Why was she here?
Curiously, he found a question repeating itself in his mind, one he wasn’t quite familiar with; he hadn’t thought about it often, there was rarely any cause for it.
Against his better judgement, Loki wondered if she would be okay.
*
3:11pm, May 4th, 2012.
Raya sat up in a panic, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, her body aching, and stars popped in front of her eyes as she struggled to fill her lungs.
Looking down, she realised her hands were bare, her gloves gone, cuffed to either side of a hospital bed, and her heart was pounding in her ears as she began to struggle against the binds, the skin of her wrists chaffing against the metal as fear raced through her.
“Don’t.” A voice said softly from the corner of the room, a red headed woman stepping out from the shadows with a glass of water in her hand. “Vibranium handcuffs. Unbreakable.”
Raya froze as the woman put the glass down on her bedside table, watching her carefully as she took a seat beside the bed, instinctually pulling her body in closer.
“I’m Natasha.” The woman said softly, giving her a warm smile, but Raya simply continued to look at her, shifting uncomfortably as her eyes darted all over her pale face.
Raya’s chest constricted as she leaned closer, her fingertips dangerously close to her skin. Her entire arm seemed to seize up as she kicked her legs out violently, but Natasha simply looked at her, studying her curiously.
Her gaze made Raya feel as if she was being examined under a microscope, stuck up by pins in a sick experiment, and she pulled at the handcuffs again, wincing as the skin rubbed hard against the metal.
“Do you have a name?” Natasha asked after a few moments of watching her struggle, and Raya shifted her gaze back over to her, scoffing under her breath as she met the woman’s patient eyes.
“Of course I do.” She forced out, her throat burning as she spoke, and her snarky comment was lost in the soft whisper that escaped her lips.
“What is it?” Natasha asked, her tone relaxed, but Raya caught the slight twitch in her wrist as her fingers moved to hold her side.
Weapons.
Raya stayed quiet, her eyes narrowed in anger, even as fear sparked in her chest, zipping through her heart as Natasha continued to watch her, her body tense.
Apparently realising that her question was a dead end, Natasha sighed, her voice stronger as she moved on to her next question.
“How old are you?”
Raya tilted her head in irritation, a smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth as she chuckled exasperatedly, and she sat forward, deciding to humour the woman by answering truthfully.
“1,050 years.” She said, and while Natasha’s expression remained blank, her eye twitched slightly, and Raya simply stared at her.
“Funny.” Natasha whispered, and Raya shrugged, twisting her hand in the handcuffs.
“Why ask questions if you don’t want the real answers?” She said, and she saw the minuscule shift in Natasha’s eyes, darting up somewhere behind her head.
“Where are they watching us from? Where are your guards, waiting to pull you away from me the moment I move?” Raya said darkly as she rattled the handcuffs against the bed methodically, watching as each echo of the small noise caused a quiver in Natasha’s lips. “Where is your protection? Don’t tell me they forced you in here, did they?”
Natasha’s shoulders tensed and Raya's eyes narrowed as the air between them tightened, slightly surprised at how easy it was to goad her, to get a reaction with just a few words.
She clinked the handcuffs against the bed again, and it was becoming easier to see the buried darkness behind Natasha’s eyes as the woman began to speak, her words broken by a fearful tremble for a fraction of a second before she caught herself.
“My team and I do not know who you are.” Natasha said forcefully, leaning away from Raya and blinking rapidly. “I volunteered to ask you these questions, and it would be in your best interest to answer them.”
Natasha cleared her throat before continuing and Raya clinked her handcuffs against the metal bars of the bed again, a stab of euphoria erupting in her chest as she noticed the way the woman twisted her head, as if banishing dark thoughts from her mind.
“I am not alone here. You are.”
Raya kept her eyes down as her wrists began to burn, not wanting to give away her intentions just yet.
“It would terrible if you were alone, wouldn’t it?” She said quietly, and she heard Natasha adjust in her seat as she cracked her shoulder. “But would be your worst nightmare?”
She felt Natasha lean closer, and she almost recoiled from her, but she didn’t want to ruin the build up, didn’t want to destroy the fun, not yet, and a breathless whisper of a laugh fell from her lips as she added,
“Would it, Agent Romanoff?”
The air around them turned cold, but Raya didn’t dare look up, clinking her handcuffs against the bed once again as she felt a wicked sort of pleasure rush through her as Natasha gasped quietly.
“How did you-“ The woman started, but Raya cut her off, flexing her fingers as a familiar sting rushed through her.
“I know much more than you think.”
As she looked up and finally met Natasha’s eyes, she saw past their bright blue, into the darkness locked away behind them.
“Where are your secrets, Natasha?” Raya said, and as she clinked her handcuffs against the bed once again, the woman’s expression became blank. “What do you have to hide?”
It was only for a second, the breach of consciousness; she was thrown through Natasha’s broken memories, some half formed, some shining bright, some lying shattered in the shadows, never to be touched again.
A young blonde girl being pulled, screaming, from her arms- ballet dancers in a dark room, hundreds reflected in the mirrors around them, a punch being thrown towards her face, raising her hands to easily block it-
Natasha blinked, and Raya could feel the connection loosening, forcing herself deeper into the woman’s brain before she lost control, searching for secrets, for weaknesses.
Tears running down her face as screams echoed around her head, the first shot she’d ever taken, striking a bullseye, a hug from a loving mother, longing glances between her and a solider, her first genuine smile-
The first touch from someone who loved her.
There was a moment, a moment where Raya knew it wasn’t going to end well, the moment she lost her grip on Natasha’s mind. She knew as soon as she lifted her arm, when Natasha leaned forwards to restrain her, but that didn’t stop it when fingertips met her bare skin, and horrific pain ripped through her entire body.
Natasha’s yell of confused panic was lost as Raya’s arm began to burn, bright red waves of energy pulsing out of her body as the handcuffs melted around her wrists, and she sat up, her lungs torn apart as she began to scream.
The pain was too much, much more than she had remembered, and she could feel the flames gathering up behind her eyes as her throat filled with heat, her voice pitching upwards as she caught the loud thud of Natasha’s body hitting the far wall.
The red haired woman’s handprint was burnt into her skin, and as she pushed herself upwards, her side aching with overexertion as the stitches in her skin became undone, tears sprang into her dark eyes.
She could feel her mother’s hits on her body, painful indentations on her skin, melded with her soul forever, and her shrill voice echoed through Raya’s head as more flames were pulled from between her lips.
“You were never, ever fit for this throne.”
“You will never be good enough!”
“Burn in your sins, my sweet daughter.”
Rage raced through her body as she fought to get herself upright, her eyes blurred over by the red heat, but just as her feet touched the cold floor, a harsh, electric shock ripped through her, and caused her knees to buckle.
She smashed her face against the tiles, groaning in pain as her head was split open by the screams of her mother, and she continued to yell as the shocks tore through her already fatigued body, blood of her freshly sealed up wounds decorating the white floor around her in crimson as her body seized, her eyes fluttering quickly.
Her final shriek dissolved into an exhausted whisper as her consciousness slipped away from her, and as her body eventually came to rest, several sets of eyes were still watching her through tinted glass.
Thor gave a gruff exhale as he studied the woman lying on the ground, listening carefully as Steve unlocked the door into the room, rushing immediately to Natasha’s side.
Bruce moved past them quickly, his expression grim, but Thor did not look away until Tony came to stand at his side and said, his voice quieter, more fearful than Thor had ever heard it.
“She’s definitely not human.”
Thor nodded seriously, his eyes dragged back over to the woman on the ground, her arms twitching from the after effects of the shocks he’d sent through her.
Her presence troubled him. She clearly wasn’t from Earth, and he would have know if she was Asgardian; he would have thought she was from within one of the nine realms, if it hadn’t been for her abilities.
He had never seen something so raw, so powerful before, and even though he would not admit it to others, it terrified him.
He cleared his throat, turning to meet Tony’s narrowed eyes, and he said quietly, gripping Mjolnir tightly in his right hand,
“No… no, she’s not.”
*
4:58pm, May 4th, 2012.
Loki caught the small box in his hand once again, gripping it tightly as he strained his ears for a sound, any other sound.
The screams had died down about an hour ago, and the tower was unusually quiet, too quiet for his liking.
He hadn’t had a visitor in hours, and he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to be put in a Midgardian jail, or if he’d be sent back to Asgard for trial. At this rate, it seemed as if this dull room would become his home, with its chipped white walls, too bright lights and small windows.
You’d think Stark would have his lights on dimmers.
Just as he went to throw the small object back up in front of him, whispered voices came from the hallway, and he glanced towards his door as footsteps drew closer to his room.
He got to his feet slowly, moving to the door and pressing his ear against the cool, opaque glass to better hear what was being said.
“…don’t know what we can do about her.”
“Keep her safe here until we figure out what’s going on.”
Thor’s voice was soft, almost concerned, and Loki narrowed his eyes in confusion as he heard the sound of keys being forced into a lock, readjusting his shoulder as he continued to listen closely.
“Do you think this room will hold her?” Bruce said, his tone slightly fearful, though that confused Loki too.
What did The Hulk have to be afraid of? He’d certainly had no reservations about beating the shit out of him mere hours ago. What was different about this woman?
Thor was quiet for a moment, his silence punctuated by the sounds of shuffling sheets, before he said,
“It’s held you and Loki before.” Thor cleared his throat, and Loki tilted his head downwards as shame bit at his heart. “It’s all we’ve got, Banner.”
Bruce made a noise of reluctant assent, and Loki stepped back, still listening to the faint sounds of the opposite door being locked before footsteps receded back down the hallway.
Loki stood for a moment, attempting to connect the dots of the conversation had overheard, but as his mind wandered over all the possibilities, the lock on his door clicked open, and he looked up to meet Thor’s surprisingly serious gaze.
His brother didn’t speak as he glanced down the hallway, almost as if he was worried about being caught, and Loki stared at him confusedly, slowly moving back towards the centre of the room, hoping that he hadn’t been caught eavesdropping.
“Breaking your silence to me, brother?” Loki asked, his voice harsher than he expected, and Thor sighed as he pushed his way into the room, letting the door close quietly behind him.
“I am still upset with you.” Thor said, moving towards the table in the centre of the room and gesturing for Loki to sit with him. “But I need your help.”
Loki laughed to himself, narrowing his eyes irritably even as he followed the direction, but instead of taking a seat, he gripped the top of the chair and said,
“What makes you think I want to help you?”
Thor pushed his hands forwards on the table, rubbing his knuckles as he looked up at Loki, and he could see a hint of sadness, of regret in his expression, something Loki knew he didn’t deserve.
“Nothing. But I trust your judgement, flawed as it sometimes may be.” Thor said, straightening himself up as he pulled his chair in closer to the table. “It’s about her.”
Thor tilted his head towards the room across the hallway, and Loki slowly pulled his chair out, still apprehensive of the situation, but curious nonetheless.
“Ah yes. The mystery woman who tried to kill me.” Loki said tauntingly as he took a seat, sitting as far back in his chair as he could. “Still think she’s a trick of mine?”
Thor rubbed his temple as he leaned against the table top, exasperated already, and Loki scoffed under his breath.
Perhaps this was a new record; he always did have a talent for pissing his brother off with in mere moments, with nothing more than simple words.
“No, we don’t.” Thor said, and underneath his cocky composure, Loki felt slightly remorseful at the tired look on his brother’s face. “That’s what I’m here for. We don’t think she’s from Earth.”
“Why?” Loki asked as curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned slightly closer, picking at his nails nervously. “Despite the dark portal, she seemed human to me.”
Thor smiled grimly, and shook his head, his eyes slightly unfocused, and Loki couldn’t recall a time when his brother looked so worried. It wasn’t in his nature; Thor, the God of Thunder, did not worry.
“She attacked Romanoff, Loki. Would’ve killed her if I hadn’t been able to shock her into unconsciousness.” Thor said, his tone tense as his hand folded into a fist, and Loki studied him closely, intrigued. “She was almost breathing something close to flames, but only after she was touched. It was like there was something burning her from the inside.”
Thor looked up, and as Loki met his eyes, he was shocked to find so much fear present in them.
“I’ve never seen or heard of something like it before.” Thor continued, reaching up to rub his neck anxiously. “I wanted to ask if you had, if you know of anything similar.”
Loki stared at Thor, silence stretching on between them as he thought, running through as many species as he could, but nothing he could think of matched what his brother was saying, and he slowly shook his head.
“I don’t think so. Did you learn anything from her? Her name, her age- what does she look like?” He said, and Thor’s expression shifted to one of confusion. “I didn’t see much of her; I was far too busy trying not to get killed.”
A slight smile flitted across Thor’s face, and Loki relaxed slightly, even as his brother sighed quietly and shook his head.
“She told us she was 1,050 years old.” Thor said, and Loki blinked in shock, turning his head to glance in the direction of the woman’s room. “She’s got brown hair, brown eyes. White gloves, which we should have realised were worn for a reason.”
“Yes, well,” Loki said teasingly, “You Avengers aren’t exactly known for thinking things through.”
Thor glanced over at him, his eyes narrowed in annoyance, and Loki raised his hands theatrically as he smirked, leaning back in his chair.
“If you aren’t going to be helpful-“ Thor muttered under his breath, moving to stand as he readjusted his red cloak over his shoulders, “Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Panic shot through Loki’s stomach as he watched his brother move towards the door, the realisation that Thor’s presence had been comforting him an unwelcome one, but he got to his feet anyway, and called,
“Wait! I will help you!”
Thor looked back at him, irritated, and Loki took in a deep breath as he said,
“In return for my freedom.”
Thor laughed incredulously, walking back towards Loki, bands of electricity flaring up his arms as his expression changed from one of frustration to rage.
“You betrayed me, you betrayed Asgard, because you wanted to be in power of something you didn’t understand, of people you didn’t care about.” Thor said angrily as he advanced upon him, and Loki stood his ground, his eyebrows furrowed as fury bit at his heart. “You do not deserve freedom.”
“I am aware of my crimes, brother.” Loki said quietly, struggling to keep his voice even as he glared up at Thor, ignoring the shame rushing through him at the betrayed look in his eyes. “I am not foolish enough to believe I will be released from here as a free man.”
Thor hesitated before he took half a step back from him, his harsh features moving into a look of confusion, and Loki took that as a sign to continue.
“I want to be free of this room. This is not to be my prison, I want the ability to walk the halls with-“ He cut himself off as he stared at his brother, holding back the word that would soften his statement before continuing quickly, “without worrying about being struck down by your team of… heroes.”
He paused slightly before the final word, sighing in disbelief, and the annoyed look reappeared in Thor’s eyes at the subtle jab towards his friends, something Loki did not fail to notice.
“I will find out her name, for a start.” He continued, unable to stop himself from picking at the quick of his nails. “If you let me feel free.”
Thor sighed as he stared at him, and Loki felt his stomach turn over with guilt, though he didn’t understand why.
“Fine.” Thor muttered, rubbing his forehead with two fingers in exasperation. “If you get her name… I will begin to hold up my end of the deal.”
Loki smiled, ignoring the tremble in his fingers, the quaver in his next breath, as he said,
“That is all I ask.”
Thor opened his hand, gesturing towards the destabiliser on Loki’s wrist, and he offered up his arm, his face contorting involuntarily as Thor’s fingers touched his skin, fighting the instinct to rip his arm away.
As the device was taken from around his wrist, a rush of power flowed through him, spreading out around his body, and he massaged his hand as Thor turned away.
“The room will keep your abilities dulled.” Thor said as he opened the door, turning back to glance at Loki in the centre of the room, and he paused for a moment before he added, “Do not make me regret trusting you brother. Not again.”
Loki allowed his smile to widen even as remorse picked at his heart, and he knew his tone was far too sarcastic as he said,
“Now why would I ever do that?”
Thor rolled his eyes to the ceiling, disappointment etched into every line of his face, before he turned away, stepping out of the room, and closing the door softly behind him.
Loki let out a shaky breath as he heard his brother’s footsteps retreat down the hallway, and immediately lost his smile, forcefully rubbing his face with his palms as he moved to pace the room.
This was a hole he’d dug himself into. Now, he would have to actually interact with this woman; he would have to pry into her personal life, learn things about her.
It sounded horrible, but such was his burden now.
Freedom from this small box if he could just get her name.
Just as he turned on his heel, moving slowly towards the edge of his bed, a scream echoed from the room across from him, piercing, almost inhuman, the same as the ones he had heard earlier.
He stood frozen for a moment, listening intently as another pained yell filled the air, and something in his chest clenched uncomfortably at the horrific sound.
It was only now, as he sat perched on the very edge of his bed, his heart jumping at each new scream that reverberated through each corner of his mind, that he wondered if he should be scared.
From what he gathered, for all they knew, she could be a celestial being, a cosmic ruler, a goddess. She could be mortal, but Loki couldn’t fathom any mortal whose cries could invoke such an intense sense of fear in him.
Maybe he should be scared.
Maybe, it was better if he was.
*
6:45 pm, May 4th, 2012.
The tears burned.
Raya’s hands were shaking as she scrubbed her arm erratically, ignoring the stinging along her skin as thin lines of blood began to circle her forearm, dripping onto the white porcelain of her bathroom sink.
She was gasping for air as she frustratedly continued to push the wet brush against her arm, her skin peeling off as she erased Natasha’s handprint from her.
She knew they’d held her, that they’d carried her to bring her here, and her body was screaming, dirty, dirty, dirty-
Her eyes blurred with tears, Raya stumbled into the shower, hissing as hot water fell onto her, barely able to hold her aching body upright as she tore off her bodysuit, pulling frantically at the metal object around her wrist, her chest heaving painfully as it did not budge.
Tainted, dirty, no, no, no-
A broken scream was ripped from her lips as the water began to wash away the fierce burn of someone else’s handprints, and she leaned against the shower wall, her legs trembling as she pressed her head against the cold stone, tears rolling down her cheeks, hot, stinging.
It took a few minutes of her struggling to stand, waiting for the acidic burn of the handprints to wash off her body, before her breathing to returned to some semblance of normal.
Natasha’s handprint had faded significantly, but tears still gathered in the corners of her eyes as she lifted her shaking hand towards her face, turning it slowly as she watched her reddened flesh smooth over.
She pushed herself back from the wall, allowing the cool water to run through her hair and down the rest of her body, the tension in her muscles releasing slightly as she tapped her fingers together methodically, keeping her breaths slow and deep as relief began to wash through her.
Clean.
She tried to recollect her thoughts, struggling as she turned off the shower tap, blindly reaching out of the door to grab the towel left by the sink, barely feeling the sting in her arm as blood continued to slowly trickle down her arm and onto the white tiles below her feet.
As she wiped her eyes shakily, she finally saw her surroundings, and her gut clenched as she held herself up against the glass, wrapping her towel around her waist as she stepped out into the bathroom.
There were cracks in the marble countertops, blood smeared along the sides of the tile, and glass laying broken in the sink, fallen from the hole she’d ripped in the mirror. The bloodied brush was resting with its bristles faced upwards, pieces of her skin present in the mess of crimson, and something in her chest constricted at the sight.
She quickly turned on the tap and forced the brush under it, washing away any evidence of what she’d done, biting back appalled tears as the sting in her bleeding arm increased.
Pressing a piece of her towel against her arm, her eyes caught on a small pile of clothes resting next to the shower, and as she moved closer, she realised there was a yellow note attached to the top of a dark green sweater.
As she picked it up, her eyes scanned the words, and her mouth twisted in disgust.
‘For comfort.’
Shaking her head, she ripped the note off and tossed it away unceremoniously, lifting up the sweater to see several other items of clothing underneath, ignoring the gratitude she felt easing its way into her heart.
They had trapped her, hurt her, touched her skin. They weren’t here to help her; for all she knew they were more of her mother’s accomplices, designed to keep her prisoner while her planet was taken over.
They could not be trusted. None of them.
No gloves.
The thought hit her as she rifled through the clothes, and the room seemed to sway dangerously as she forced herself to remain upright, her palms itching awfully as her skin ran over the fabric.
It had been a while since she had felt something with her true fingertips; she could not remember the last time at all, and she was sure she had been no more than a mere child.
The green sweater was soft, warm under her fingertips, and she slowly began to get dressed, pushing her wet hair away from her face as she studied her scarred body in the mirror before pulling the sweater over her head.
Sighing gratefully as the world began to realign itself, she used to edge of the sink to steady herself, walking carefully towards the door, avoiding the wreckage of her bathroom floor by keeping her eyes raised.
She pushed the door open, readjusting the black sweatpants around her waist before pressing her towel harder against the drying blood on her arm. Looking around the plain room, Raya noticed a simple lamp casting golden light over tightly fitted sheets and a large bed, several pristine pillows resting against the dull headboard. The door to her room was a bright white, and as she approached it, she realised shining silver locks clamped it to the wall, the hinges biting into the tiles.
She groaned frustratedly, and as a voice from her left spoke, she jumped, her hands immediately raised in panic.
“Imprisonment certainly is their forte, isn’t it?”
Sitting facing her was a man dressed in dark green armour, golden metal stretching out over his shoulders and into his chest plate, an emerald cloak resting around his feet as he tilted his head in greeting.
Raya straightened herself up, dropping her hands even as her chest constricted in fear, but the man did not do anything except smile, something that did not quite reach his bright eyes.
He lifted his arm higher into the air, and her stance wavered before her eyes fixed on the metal around his wrist, similar to hers, stretching up to wrap itself around his elbow.
“Power destabiliser.” The man said, as if that should mean something to her, and Raya simply stared at him, very aware of her racing heartbeat as it thudded loudly in her ears. “Dilutes all magical abilities; which means, unfortunately for us, we cannot escape this prison.”
Raya kept her eyes on him as she flexed her hand instinctually, reaching for a weapon that was not there, and she said softly,
“Get out.”
The man’s smile did not fade as he watched her, his eyes darting all around her face, as if he were calculating each breath she took, each blink of her eyes, and the intensity of it made her uncomfortable, forcing her to drop his gaze.
“You’re not much interested in talking, are you?” The man said quietly, ignoring her harsh whisper, and Raya sighed in irritation as she shook her head. “More into action, I presume?”
Raya took a wary half a step backwards, but the man only chuckled, pushing a lock of his black hair behind his ear as he leaned almost lazily on his chair.
“Simply observing from previous events.” He said, smiling pointedly, but Raya narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Considering you held me at knifepoint mere hours ago, I’m not quite sure if I should be offended by your vague memory.”
The man tilted his head up slightly, revealing a small red line across the base of his throat, and the memory, fuzzy and faded, but still functional, flickered to life in her mind.
“Be quiet!” Her voice was a broken yell, pained, terrified, and the man she held onto was silent, his heart beating hard through his chestplate.
He was scared, and she didn’t care.
“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him!”
Raya sucked in a deep breath, and the man was watched her intently, his curious eyes reading the imprints on her soul, and she took a step back as the memory faded, a dark laugh falling from her lips automatically.
“Ah, yes.” She muttered, her palms itching once again, instinctive, unbidden, but the familiar tug her in stomach was gone. “If you’re expecting an apology, you’re wasting your time.”
The man laughed, shaking his head as he rubbed his wrist, the gold along his forearms shimmering in the low light.
“No, not something so sentimental.” He said, his voice smooth as he met her eyes. “Rather, I came to introduce myself, with the hopes you would do the same.”
Raya took a seat on the edge of her bed, keeping her hands tightly by her sides, as she stared at him, her eyes narrowed.
Evidently, her silence was enough for the man to continue and as he sat forwards on his chair, for a single second, she caught the tremble in his fingertips.
“I am Loki, Prince of Asgard. God of Mischief.” He said, his voice lilting up into an almost regal tone, and she gathered from his haughty expression, that she was supposed to be impressed.
“Right.” She said, and Loki seemed taken aback by her lack of surprise. “So lovely to make your acquaintance yet again, Your Highness.”
She gestured theatrically towards him, rolling her eyes as she leaned back slightly, wondering if she was imagining the way his cloak seemed to meld with the light around them.
Loki’s expression was more bewilderment than anger and Raya found it strangely comforting.
Perhaps she wasn’t the only one out of her depth.
“Have you not heard of Asgard?” Loki said, and Raya shook her head as she picked at what he had called the destabilisier around her wrist.
“Is that where we are now?” She asked absently, and Loki made a small noise in his throat, almost of disgust.
“No. Asgard is my-“ His voice caught, and Raya looked up interestedly, tapping the side of the metal with her nails as he continued. “It is a planet I used to call home, it is far from here. We are on Midgard now; Earth, as the mortals call it.”
Raya studied his features, the way his eyebrow raised with self importance, the way his lips seemed to twitch, always halfway to a forced smile.
Fascinating.
“So you are not mortal then?” She asked, and Loki laughed quietly to himself, seemingly unaware as his eyelid spasmed in reaction to her nails against the metal. “You do not speak of them highly; have they wronged you in some way?”
Her voice pitched up into almost teasing, and Loki shifted in his seat, confusion flitting across his face as the quiet tap of her nails was amplified by her voice.
Her palms were burning; the strain of this would exhaust her, she knew it, but something about Loki intrigued her, even more so than Natasha had.
“I am merely upset they would not bow to my rule, my promised rule-“ Loki admitted, but as the words left his lips, shock ripped through his expression and he pushed back against the edge of his chair. “How did you do that?”
Raya shrugged, scoffing as she lost the already weak connection and dropping her hand from the destabilisier, which hissed threateningly.
“Your mind is like a book; rifling through the pages can cause someone to open up.”She said quietly, and Loki’s expression betrayed his admiration. “However, I commend your mental fortitude. It seems as if you are used to hiding parts of yourself.”
It was a spectacular turn of events, she mused as Loki blinked quickly, that he was now the one uncomfortable, unsure.
“I do not need your praise.” Loki said through gritted teeth, and somewhat sadly, Raya remarked how easy it had been to anger yet another. “Keep yourself out of my head.”
Raya laughed darkly, flicking through the memories she’d seen his mind; a sceptre in his uneasy grasp, panic erupting in his chest as he watched an army descend upon Midgard, disappearing with his consciousness, a golden throne, empty, powerless.
“You want to come pry within mine, but I cannot see behind your eyes?” Raya said softly, watching as Loki tilted his head in confusion. “I know that is why you are here, oh great ‘God of Mischief’. To spy for your teammates.”
Loki’s jaw tensed at the final word, and Raya smiled, struggling to ignore the fear in the absence of her weapons.
“They are not my team.” He said, his voice trembling with barely concealed rage, and Raya gripped the side of her bed to comfort herself. “I am their prisoner, just like you.”
“Tell me, are they watching you? Waiting for the moment I snap again? Or are you not fearful, and stupid enough to come alone?” She said, rising to her feet as she smiled, ignoring the burn of tears in her eyes. “How laughable, a prisoner, a prisoner who can wander at his own leisure, who can wander into a casual interrogation, another broken record who wants to get to me, get to my mind!”
Her voice echoed off the white walls, but she didn’t care as she advanced on Loki, laughing derisively as he continued to watch her, and she saw the shake in his hands clearly now, could see the shielded panic behind his eyes.
“You come with sweetened words and faux confidence, feeding into what, some idea that you deserve to know me? That you could even understand me?” She said loudly, and as she caught Loki’s eyes flicking up behind her head, she scoffed in disappointment. “You cannot fathom what I am, what I have been through, and your teammates devised the best plan of action was to threaten me? To prod and poke me into retaliation, to force me into destruction?”
Her throat was becoming choked up as she laughed hopelessly, and Loki was on his feet now, standing before the table, his cloak thrown behind him, and she knew it was hopeless, that it meant nothing, but her palms were stinging, she wanted to scream at him, to rip through him, to make him feel a fraction of her torment-
“I am not pretending to know you.” Loki said, his voice soft, calming, and Raya shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks, anger still biting at her heart. “Believe me, or don’t, the choice is yours. However, I did not wish to upset you; only to begin to understand how you came to be here.”
“You will not manipulate me.” She said, her voice trembling with anger as she stood a foot from him, her hands flexing instinctively, missing the tug in her stomach, missing her full power. “You are nothing but a trickster; how can you actually expect me to trust you?”
Loki raised his arms slightly, and Raya’s fingers twitched as heat remained absent from her palms, breathing heavily as he stepped to the side, his expression tense, controlled.
“I am not your enemy.” He said, and Raya lifted her hands higher, automatically protecting her chest. “In fact, I could be your greatest ally.”
He gestured towards the table, and Raya’s eyes broke contact with his for a moment, finding a white box lying open on the table top, and in it, resting on green cushioning, were her gloves.
Relief swelled up inside her, and she gasped, eager to reach out for them, but she forced herself to move slowly, her eyes flicking warily from Loki back to them.
The man only watched her, his hands still raised in an apparent surrender as he stepped away from the table, allowing her to reach the gloves unencumbered.
Raya’s hands were shaking as her fingertips pressed into the silk, and tears sprang to her eyes yet again as she pulled one over her right hand, sighing as pain was alleviated from her, sliding the fabric up to mask the cut in her arm.
Wiping her eyes with her sleeve, she muttered,
“I will not thank you for returning my property to me.”
Loki nodded, smiling as he took another careful step towards the door, his tone more relaxed as he said,
“I will leave if you want me to.”
Raya flexed her hand as she slid on the second glove, grateful as the burned flesh of her stomach began slowly piecing itself together, wincing at the stinging pain.
She inhaled deeply, her eyes squeezed shut as she considered it, considered the outcome, and she knew it was against her nature, but something thoughtful like this… even if it didn’t deserve thanks, she was appreciative.
“You said you hoped I would introduce myself to you.” She said, her breath catching as she broke her own vow of distrust. “I am Raya Cain.”
“How lovely to finally have a name to your face.” Loki said teasingly, and her eyes flickered open as she turned to look towards him, but the space he once stood was empty, as if he had never been there at all.
Raya sighed, shaking her head as she fiddled with the fingertips of her gloves.
She had given up her name. No doubt, they would search and search for her; maybe, it would help her out if they did find her in their surprisingly advanced systems.
Maybe, they would be able to help her get home.
She readjusted her gloves, pulling them up around her elbows, pleasantly surprised as the destabilisier phased in and out as she moved the fabric through it.
Impressive.
As her wounds began to slowly heal over, the uncomfortable ache in her body dulled, and she wiped her eyes weakly, moving to lie down in her bed, still nervous as she pulled up the sheets, her eyes darting around in search of traps, but upon finding none, she eased herself into it.
The light cast from the lamp was comforting, familiar, and sleep was creeping up on her, the overexertion of her abilities tired her out, and even as her stomach rumbled, she ignored it in favour of the darkness sliding in over her eyes.
The camera in the top right corner of her room blinked, the red light dying as Tony moved to stand, his mind racing as he began typing into his computer.
The file was largely empty besides the physical description, but he added her name, still uneasy.
Thor might be easily deceived by his brother, but he didn’t believe it. A light show, a spectacular distraction, just moments before he was arrested? It lined up far too well to just be a coincidence, but, as he reversed the footage, and Raya’s words came spilling out over the speakers, his chest constricted strangely.
“Another broken record who wants to get to me, get to my mind!”
“You cannot fathom what I am, what I have been through…”
The look of fear in Loki’s eyes, the way Raya had treated him…
Tony knew, no matter how deep into a lie Loki wove himself, he would not treat himself that way. He was too proud, too reliant on maintaining his image as a villain, as powerful.
It didn’t make sense.
“Search all databases on Earth for any records of her, Jarvis.” He said as he stared at the computer screen, nervously prodding the arc reactor in his chest. “I want to be sure.”
“Right away, sir.” Jarvis said, and millions of personnel files began to flash up onto a second screen, but Tony didn’t even look over, his eyes fixed on the words he’d written into Raya’s description.
‘Dangerous.’
‘Unstable.’
‘Unknown.’
*
7:32 pm, May 4th, 2012.
Loki opened his eyes, folding his hands together on his stomach as his clone faded from Raya’s room, his mind racing with all her burning words.
Her expression, broken, hurt, disbelieving, was seared into his mind, and he could hear her wild laugh echoing through his head as he stared up at the ceiling.
He had sensed her anguish. She wasn’t angry, she was scared.
He knew better than anyone that anger was just a front to hide the fear, the paranoia, the confusion. It was easier to be angry, to push away the thoughts and dive headfirst into a blinding feeling.
The broken city outside his window was a testament to that.
His eyes moved to the destabilisier resting on the table a few metres away, and something like guilt tugged at his heart, something he didn’t understand.
“You are nothing but a trickster; how can you actually expect me to trust you?”
He swallowed hard as his stomach turned over, and for once, he didn’t feel vindicated, didn’t want to celebrate the success of his deception, because he couldn’t rip her expression from his mind.
The expression he knew too well. Betrayed, misunderstood, lied to.
In pain.
He shook his head hard as he sat up, holding his forehead in his hand, pushing the tips of his fingers through his hair as he forced himself to breathe, slowly, deeply.
This was some trick from her, it had to be. He’d felt her inside his head, picking at his memories, looking through his fears. She was the one who couldn’t be trusted, she was the one who was a manipulator, how could he be sure she hadn’t been acting, that anything she said was true?
As he looked through the gap in his fingers, he blinked, and wondered whether this was how everyone saw him.
He sucked in a deep breath, trying to summon anger, summon rage, and he was on his feet, a surge of power rushing through his veins, but nothing moved around him, because he didn’t want it to.
Even in his frustration, he knew it only proved the idea right.
He angrily scoffed, undoing the armour from around his wrists as he felt tears burn in his eyes, and he tossed it aside, moving towards his chest plate, suddenly much more constricting than before.
She didn’t know him, who was she to be angry at him? He had been trying to offer support.
Selfishly. A small voice whispered in the back of his mind as he ripped away the chest plate, throwing it to the floor, leaving only a black shirt beneath. Always selfishly.
And as he pulled off the last piece of his protection, he leant with his arm against the wall, his breaths coming much less easily, and let the pain consume him.
*
Universe 724, Planet Cirica.
11:37pm, May 4th, 2012.
Mountains of bloodied bodies stretched up towards crimson skies, decomposing, dying, rotting, but The Empress barely glanced at them as she swept past, her lavish robes floating out underneath her as she levitated up from the ground.
She needed to find him, needed to tell him the good news, and as she wove her way through the dead fighters, she smiled, sheathing her bloodstained sword quickly.
Her feet touched the marble floors, sliding smoothly over them as she walked through the large front doors, listening to the familiar humming of her raw energy as it rushed through her veins, echoing inside her head.
The fight was still fresh in her mind, her victory, her pride washing over her finally, because she’d done it.
Her daughter had finally been cast into the abyss of space, finally thrown where she could never come back, where she could never threaten her rule again.
She was free to rule the chaos, totally and completely.
She rushed down the hallway, elated at her good fortune, at a successful scheme at fruition, and passed no one, every soul who once inhabited these halls lying dead in a pool of their own blood.
It didn’t take her long to cross the threshold into the throne room, and her eyes lingered for a moment over the statue of her daughter, causing her to pause in the moment.
The statue was small, much smaller than her own, and she scoffed at the memory of her daughter’s modesty. There was no place for that here, not in Cirica, and certainly not for an empress.
Golden flames were shimmering around the marble, frozen forever in place, her robes a deep crimson, her hair freely resting over her shoulders, her expression blank, almost as if she had been praying to leave.
She got her wish. The Empress thought, a cruel sort of happiness twisting her lips up into a smile. That little brat will burn.
She opened her hand, and power rushed through her nerves, a surge of energy obliterating the statue into dust, and she chuckled to herself as she walked away, her head held high.
Slowly, she turned her gaze back onto the throne, and her heart jumped.
Mine. All mine.
She stepped up to it, reaching forward to touch the spikes that pointed up towards the sky, melded into the ruby chair, and as her fingertips grazed the surface, the humming in her mind increased.
She wrapped her hand around the spike closest to her, unable to hold back her wild smile as red light began to obscure her vision, washing through every inch of her body as the throne accepted her.
Tears of joy leapt into her eyes as she finally took a seat, settling into the throne, waiting for the invitation to begin, and her eyelids fluttered shut.
Spikes began to weave their way through her legs, gripping her tightly, pulling apart her skin, and even as she hissed in pain, she kept her smile, her body still as a spike pushed through the flesh of her hand, nailing her to the spot.
As her blood was spilled across the chair, the humming inside her head grew louder, and the chanting was clearer now, ringing through her mind as she had always dreamed it would.
“Livid crimson rage,
Set forth the next stage,
Passed down for an age,
Empress made,
Goddess relaid,
Chaos fed into an endless maze.”
She could feel the spike creeping up her back and a deranged laugh was ripped from her as the subtle pressure began to split open the back of her robes.
The spikes in her hands were spreading, wrapping up her arms, and the red light was seared into her retinas, shining, blinding as energy began to pulse in time with her heartbeat, a second heart.
She cried out as the spike along her back was driven through her spine, the tip exposed as it forced its way out of her stomach, and her pained scream dissolved into manic laughter as she gripped the throne’s armrests tightly.
Blood was working its way up her throat, spilling out over her lips as she choked on her tears, and it was torture, torture like she’d never endured.
Finally.
The tendrils of the spike in her stomach were splitting off, and they began to rip through her insides, rushing up to tear a hole in the roof of her mouth, her screams of triumph silenced as the spike twisted itself around the vertebrae in her spine.
Power was flowing through every nerve in her now, powerful, wonderful, and as her tears turned to blood, and her lungs heaved with each muffled laugh that wracked her body, she closed her eyes against the pain, letting it envelop her senses.
The spike forced itself through her jaw, through her mouth, fixing the two together before it was thrust upwards into her brain.
Her mind was cut in two, splitting her consciousness, and she flew into the mindscape of those before her, her body thrown past wormholes and collapsing stars, and she focused her energy onto one point, projecting herself into his mind.
“It’s done.” She whispered as euphoric bliss settled over her, reaching out for his large purple hands, touching his cold skin. “We are ready.”
The man smiled, shrouded in shadows, and The Empress fell to her knees before him, overwhelming joy rushing through her as she met his piercing blue eyes, his golden armour awash with indigo hues as he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Our destiny has made itself known, my Empress.” He said, his voice booming, grating against her mind as she sobbed at his feet, searing pain burning through her spine as her connection to the throne was solidified. “Now… it shall all come to pass.”
*
Chapter 2: The Enemy
Notes:
what’s up guys, it’s me again. This chapter is long, and my eyes hurt so bad from staring at my screen all day finishing this (in my defence, I had to finish The Falcon and The Winter Soldier show first).
Anyway, hope you enjoy, and thank you to those who have saved and commented on this work :) I’m glad to see people are interested into my silly not-quite-enemies to lovers. ;3
chapter title from the enemy - andrew belle
Chapter Text
Stark Tower
5:27am, May 5th, 2012.
"Do you truly think it's best for me to see your friends this way?" Loki asked, staring out at the rising sun as the elevator took him and Thor further down the levels of Stark Tower. "I gather they won't be all that pleased with my company."
"Excellent deduction skills, brother." Thor muttered, and Loki glanced irritably over at him. "You always were the smart one."
Loki rolled his eyes to the roof as he sighed, twisting his hands nervously in his handcuffs, and Thor was smiling as he continued.
"They were aware of the deal I gave you. In fact, it was Barton's idea."
Loki stared over at him in shock, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he said,
"He trusted me with a task like that?"
As the elevator came to a smooth stop, Thor chuckled, shaking his head as the doors slowly began to slide open and he glanced over his shoulder as he said,
"No. He simply made the case that if she reacted poorly to your company, he wouldn't mind if you died first."
Loki scoffed before following his brother off the elevator, and as soon as his feet hit the floor, the sounds of weapons unsheathing met his ears, causing him to smirk as he looked up at the other Avengers, their eyes all dark with distrust.
"Surprise." He remarked coolly as he kept close behind Thor, and Clint slowly lowered his bow as they passed, moving towards Tony, who was seated at the kitchen island, idly stirring his coffee as electronic images flashed up before his face.
"Ah, finally." Tony said as the two Asgardians stepped up next to him, turning to smile at them, his expression one of feigned excitement. "Point Break and Houdini."
Thor sighed even as a smile pulled at the corners of his lips, and he gestured for Loki to take a seat as he walked further into the kitchen.
Loki looked over his shoulder at the others, at Bruce's harsh grip on a teaspoon, at the Captain's judgmental gaze, and his shoulders tensed as he sat down a few feet from Stark, their hateful glares seeming to burn through his armour.
"So, I watched the footage from your discussion with our lovely new visitor; Raya, is it?" Tony said, flicking up a video onto the hologram before him, and Loki nodded slowly, watching in awe as pictures from a million different outlets flickered to life on the screen. "Well, I've made the executive decision to believe she isn't one of your little clones, or someone else you've manipulated into helping you with your war."
Loki, who had momentarily been distracted by the words on the screen, met the man's eyes, and said, barely able to hide the disdain in his tone,
"I am ever so grateful. How have you reached such a brilliant conclusion?"
Thor made an annoyed noise in his throat, but Tony simply raised his hand to the screen, smiling as he flicked up a video.
"I'm so glad you asked." Tony murmured, clicking his fingers as he pressed play on the video, and Loki watched a smaller version of himself fade into the corner of Raya's room.
Of course Stark had cameras everywhere. How could he have forgotten about that?
He heard the whispers behind him stop, and his chest constricted as Thor leant against the kitchen island, staring intently as the video version of Loki placed a small box on the edge of the table, taking a seat as a choked scream came from the bathroom mere metres from him.
"Now, if I'm not mistaken, I thought gods as high and mighty as yourself didn't fear anything, especially not your own creations." Tony continued, and Loki pulled at his handcuffs as he shifted awkwardly, his eyes following the camera as it zoomed in on his face. "But you look afraid; horrified even."
There was a small laugh from behind him, and Loki twisted his neck in irritation as he glared up at the screen as the footage continued to play out.
"I was simply preparing for something I had never seen before. She had just tried to kill me, in front of you all, in broad daylight." He said forcefully, and Tony's expression was irritatingly patronising as he zoomed out of the screen once again. "Excuse me for not being completely at ease."
"If she scares you, she scares me." Tony said sincerely, leaning on his hand as he looked over at Loki. "Not to say I value your opinion at all, but you're such a prideful prick that I know showing fear would be borderline insanity for you."
"Yes, you would know, wouldn't you?" Loki snapped back, but Tony simply laughed, returning his eyes to the screen, and he soon followed suit, picking at his fingers underneath the table as Raya emerged from the bathroom.
"Imprisonment certainly is their forte, isn't it?"
His own voice came through the speakers, watching as Raya jumped, her hands immediately clenched into fists, and he stared into the face that had plagued his dreams, that had brought forth too many terrible memories he'd tried to bury.
The others fell silent, and in the absence of their whispers, his stomach turned over uncomfortably as he pulled at the handcuffs again, his own words, smooth and relaxed, his own pretence echoing through the kitchen.
"...unfortunately for us, we cannot escape this prison."
He noticed her hand moving towards her side, almost as if she was reaching for something that wasn't there, and her words were brimming with anger as she whispered,
"Get out."
Tony paused the screen, turning towards Loki, who avoided his eyes, digging his nails into his palms as he stared at the frozen figures of himself and Raya.
"At least we know she's not biased towards any of us." He said, and Loki rolled his eyes as Natasha got to her feet, walking into the kitchen, her bandaged hand held close to her side as she moved past Thor for a cup.
"Glad to hear it." Nat said over the sound of the tap as she filled up her cup, turning towards the screen to continue to the recording, skipping over several minutes before hitting play.
"I know that is why you are here, oh great 'God of Mischief'. To spy for your teammates."
"God, I like her so much more than you already." Clint muttered as he passed Loki, placing his bowl into the sink, and Loki glared at him as he heard himself say,
"They are not my team. I am their prisoner, just like you."
"Probably could have gone without calling her a prisoner, brother." Thor murmured, sliding a cup of brown liquid towards him, and Loki warmed his hands around it as he struggled to lift it to his lips. "Doesn't seem as if she took it very well."
"Tell me, are they watching you? Waiting for the moment I snap again? Or are you not fearful, and stupid enough to come alone?"
Raya's anger seemed to shine out of her, a reddish glow warping the air around her as she moved off the edge of the bed, and Loki watched his own hands tremble, a clear sign of fear, of weakness, and he sipped from the cup Thor had given him to redirect his thoughts.
The taste was bitter, but he quite enjoyed it as the hot liquid ran down his sore throat, and he slowly put it back on the table, careful not to spill it on himself as his hand shook.
"You come with sweetened words and faux confidence, feeding into what, some idea that you deserve to know me? That you could even understand me?"
Loki kept his eyes down, his grip on the cup much tighter now as Raya's angry words filled the space, echoing through his mind as his heartbeat picked up fearfully, the memory of her approaching him seared into his mind.
"...your teammates devised the best plan of action was to threaten me? To prod and poke me into retaliation, to force me into destruction?"
Flashes of red light behind his eyes, a crack in a memory far hidden away, and his heart was thudding in his ears now, and he shifted uncomfortably as the video continued, whispering,
"Enough."
Nobody moved, and his mind was clouded with red mist, aching pain ripping through his mind at her harsh words.
"You will not manipulate me."
The handle of his cup was cracking as he squeezed it tighter, his throat dry as the forgotten memory fought to resurface, a face, his face, staring into a mirror, blood staining his skin-
"Stark-" Thor said, his voice inflicted with a warning, and Loki looked back up at the screen, his breathing coming harder, faster, more panicked as Raya yelled,
"You are nothing but a trickster; how can you actually expect me to trust you?"
"Enough!" He said loudly, his cup falling apart as he crushed it in his hands, hot liquid spilling out over his fingers, and he hissed in pain as the video was paused, the red tinted memory disappearing, slipping like water through his mind and draining away into darkness as guns cocked all around him.
He was on his feet, his hands burning as he flicked the liquid off them, pulling at the handcuffs as he gripped the sides of his head, his nails digging into his skin as his heart pounded hard in his chest.
He felt someone's hand rest on his shoulder, but he couldn't even move to push it away, each breath painful as red light faded out behind his eyes.
"Brother." Thor whispered, and he shook his head as he rubbed his eyes, willing the rest of the resurfaced memory to disappear, hardly aware of his feet moving as he was led further into the kitchen towards the sink.
"Great." Bruce said, getting to his feet as Thor tried to pry Loki's hands away from his face, standing before the paused video as Tony slowly flicked through a news article, apparently rather unphased by his outburst. "Our new threat has gotten herself into the mind of our most dangerous enemy."
The water was cold as it washed over his hands, and he stood rigid as his brother held tightly into his arm, keeping him steady, keeping him tethered as he swayed dangerously, the piercing pain in his mind now gone.
"If we start panicking about him," Tony said casually, his keyboard clicking repetitively as his fingers raced across the letters, "we'd have to be worried about Romanoff too."
Nat lifted her newly refilled glass of orange juice into the air in acknowledgement of her name, and her eyes wandered over to Loki for a moment, her brows furrowed in thought.
"Her words had an effect on me as well." She said, swirling the liquid in her cup as Thor turned off the tap, reaching out for a towel to dry Loki's hands. "Last night... the memories she showed me, they resurfaced in my dreams. I saw them clearly, things I thought I'd forgotten about... things from many years ago."
She looked as if she wanted to say more, words hanging off the very tip of her tongue, but she caught herself, sipping from her glass slowly, her expression slightly wistful.
Loki watched her for a moment as he was escorted back to his seat, and considered what Raya could've shown her. He knew about the recent events: Dreykov's daughter, the hospital fire; but Natasha spoke as if she had been alive for many more years, as if she had forgotten more things than she could remember.
It was now that he realised his research on the inner workings of the Avengers had been quite limited, and he was confused as to why. Why had he neglected to look into their lives further? Why had he not seized the opportunity to search for their fears and weaknesses?
Why had he glossed over something that he'd taken so much pride in before?
His mind felt strangely empty, like someone had scrubbed his memories from it and replaced them with blurry imitations, something he could recognise but didn't remember, and for some strange reason, he knew it hadn't been Raya.
Loki remained silent as Tony pulled more newspapers up on the screen, ignoring a jab sent his way by Clint about the state of the city, but as he lifted his eyes, the headline wasn't what he expected it to be.
'Crimson Star Spotted Over NYC.'
"Apparently, we weren't the only ones who noticed her arrival." Tony said, his tone drier now, more serious as he zoomed in on the picture the article provided. "Even with their city collapsing, reporters continue to be persistent and irritating."
Loki examined the photo, a shining bright light coated in red mist, the sky shimmering crimson behind it, an image of the portal Raya had arrived through.
"Are your people on it yet?" Steve asked, and Tony nodded, clasping his hands together before him.
"The Stark Foundation has been on the ground since the attack, and we're feeding the public a story involving excess radiation from the events of yesterday tampering with the air." He sighed, and Loki followed his gaze as another video was set to play on the far side of the screen. "Honestly, it's no one's biggest concern at the moment."
Loki watched as firemen dragged bodies from collapsed buildings, shaking cameras recording fallen civilians, blood staining the cement around them, and something like guilt, like shame, tore through his chest as the screams of the injured momentarily filled the air.
He was glad he hadn't been offered any food, as he felt sick to his stomach, dropping his eyes from the destruction he had caused, fighting to keep his expression blank.
He could feel the eyes of the Avengers on him as Tony continued talking, and he tuned him out, hiding his hands underneath the table as they trembled weakly.
A thought crossed his mind, unbidden, horrible, but he couldn't push it away as he remembered Natasha's fear ridden words to him when he had been captured, words he'd revelled in before, but now thought back to in disgust.
"You're a monster."
Maybe I am.
"Anyway," Tony continued, and Loki caught his eye, saw the resigned anger in his expression, and knew he'd been hoping to invoke something painful. "Our biggest problem, believe it or not, is not a magician with a pointy stick, or how much money I need to fund the rebuilding of essential infrastructure in our city."
Tony pressed a few keys, his expression grim as a file opened up on the screen, and Loki's eyes darted from the name to the picture displayed there, a blue box, glowing, shimmering as if were really in front of him.
"The Tesseract has gone missing."
Thor's frown deepened as he stared at the picture, and Loki realised that his brother had already known, but his heart was beating harder in his chest as he pieced it together in his mind.
No Tesseract meant no return home. No return home meant no trial on Asgard, and no trial on Asgard meant he was stuck here, at the mercy of Midgardians, of the Avengers. Indefinitely.
"S.H.I.E.L.D is already looking everywhere they can." Natasha said, but Loki could hardly hear her.
His mind was far afield, shame, guilt, disgust, pain, roiling in his stomach and his eyes remained fixed on the video of Raya as it played out silently in the top right corner, watching relief flood her pixelated features as she pulled on her gloves.
Her appearance couldn't be a coincidence. He'd lost his belief in miracles long ago, but he believed in schemes, in long cons, in well laid plans.
As long as the crimson star sparkled in the sky, he was shackled to the earth.
Maybe, he thought, clenching his fists under the table, digging his nails into his palm, maybe, that's what He wanted all along.
*
Stark Tower
8:46 am, May 5th, 2012.
The ceiling had a crack in it.
A small line, faint branches fracturing the perfect whiteness.
Raya sighed as she rubbed her eyes, sitting up as her stomach rumbled, her head spinning slightly.
She had been staring at that crack for hours, listening for anything, anyone that would get her out of here, but as her eyes wandered once again over to the locked door, something chipped away at the resolve in her heart.
Maybe they weren't ever coming back. Maybe they decided she was too much hassle, and were willing to let her starve to death.
Picking at the cuticles of her nails, she decided there were definitely worse ways to go. After all, this room was far better than any she'd had before, and the shower was to die for.
A knock at her door caused her to jump, and her body immediately tensed, on edge as a voice called,
"I'm going to come in, Raya."
Her name?
She rolled her eyes as she pushed her blankets off her, getting to her feet, scoffing to herself as she thought back to Loki's insistence last night.
'They are not my team.'
Yeah right.
"Alright." She said nervously, glad that her voice was stronger than she felt as she stayed beside the bed, watching as the first lock came undone
It took only a few moments before the door was pushed open, and a man stepped through, his blonde hair thrown over his shoulder as he awkwardly walked into the room, plates of food lined up on his muscled arms.
Raya contemplated helping him as he made his way inside, smiling warmly over at her, but decided the risk wasn't worth it; what if he thought she was trying to run?
There was something oddly familiar about him, and she stood rigid as her mind struggled to place him in her memory. He didn't speak for a moment, simply laying out the food on the table in the centre of the room, and she watched in confusion as he straightened a fork next to a plate piled high with fluffy looking golden circles, his brows furrowed in concentration.
His attentiveness to the small detail, his calm demeanour, it eased her nerves, relaxed her quick heartbeat, and as her guard fell, her distrust rose.
Disarmed so quickly, and he'd spoken one sentence to her.
She didn't understand.
"I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard." The man said cheerfully as he finally turned to look at her, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement as he took a step closer, his expression clear of apprehension. "God of Thunder."
Raya couldn't help a small smile from pulling at the corners of her lips at his forthrightness, still confused, but her hands unclenched as he met her eyes.
"Apparently, you already know me." Raya said, harsher than she meant, but Thor's warm smile did not waver even for a moment.
"Yes, my brother was kind enough to share your name with me." He said coolly, and it clicked in Raya's mind as he readjusted the shoulder of his armour, his red cape moving with him as he took a seat at the table.
"Loki is your brother?" She said, more out of interest than anything else, taking a wary step towards the table, the scent of the food Thor had brought with him causing her stomach to growl.
"Adopted, but yes." Thor said as he unscrewed the lid of a small box, orange liquid spilling from it as he tipped it into the glass before him. "Juice?"
She eyed him nervously, and he seemed to understand her hesitation, because he lifted the full cup to his lips, and began to drink, half of it disappearing down his throat immediately.
Smiling at her, he placed the now empty cup back onto the table and proceeded to fill it up again, gesturing for her to take a seat before him.
"Stark has incredible pancakes." He continued as if she had replied to him, cutting through the golden circle before him, and smearing it in the brown liquid on his plate. "Apparently, his... his electric companion makes them, but still."
He took a bite as Raya tentatively took the seat opposite to him, unsure what he was talking about, but as he quickly poured her a drink, sliding it over the table to her, she asked,
"Who is 'Stark'?"
Thor smiled, his mouth full of his food, and Raya waited patiently for him to finish chewing as she picked up the utensils on either side of her plate, examining them curiously.
"Tony Stark. He owns this tiny castle, and he is my friend." Thor said, his transparency still confusing her as he looked up at her again. "Apart of the Avengers."
She nodded, unsure of what to say, because he was saying it as if she was supposed to know what any of it meant. Just like Loki had.
Thor seemed to notice her confusion, because as he sliced through what she assumed were pancakes, he continued,
"If you have questions, please ask them. I'd like you to understand where you are, who you are with; believe me, I understand how frustrating it is to be denied answers and left wondering."
He smiled sincerely at her, and she swallowed hard, eyeing the food before her hungrily as she considered his words.
He was being too nice. It was confusing her, she didn't understand why he was here, eating in front of her, sitting with her. She didn't understand why he was forthcoming with his intentions; was it a trap? Her mind was filling up with questions, a need to have everything explained, to dash her unease, and she asked,
"What are the Avengers?"
Thor picked up a bottle labeled 'syrup' and began pouring it over his pancakes, practically drowning them in the liquid, and Raya watched him, so very confused by how calm he was as she tapped her fork against the side of her plate.
"The Avengers are Earth's attempt to protect themselves from threats both on their planet and from afar." He said easily, spreading the syrup across his pancakes before cutting through the mountain yet again. "They were formed after my brother's rage followed me to Earth, and the governments of this world realised they were not alone in this universe."
Thor's expression shifted for a moment as if he was remembering something painful, and Raya tapped her fork to her plate again as she slowly reached for the drink before her.
"It's quite nice." Thor said calmly, gesturing towards the drink with his fork, but there was a sense of hilarity about his features as he added, "looking through my memories without asking, however, is not."
Raya froze as the weak connection was shattered, and the destabilisier on her wrist hummed as Thor smiled at her, slowly placing his utensils on either side of his plate.
"I am not expecting you to trust me immediately, Raya." He said, tilting his head to the side as she stared at him in shock. "But I am offering you every opportunity for us to be civil. Simply ask, and you shall receive answers."
Raya gripped her glass tighter as she sipped it nervously, flavour erupting on her tongue, and she considered his words as she tried to form a response.
He was being too nice.
Untrustworthy.
But she didn't want to anger him, not when she was so lost.
Unsafe.
"I am not accustomed to this." She said quietly, and Thor simply inclined his head towards her as he leant forwards.
He lifted his hand up slightly, offering it to her, and she eyed him suspiciously.
"If it will ease your worries, please, feel free to examine my thoughts." He said, and the sincerity of his words were causing her guard to fall further. "I have nothing to hide, and I would like you to truly understand that you have nothing to fear from me."
This had to be the strangest thing he'd done so far, and she couldn't begin to understand. No one ever offered; but now that she thought about it, she'd never really given them a chance.
She held up her hands, facing them towards where her gloves laid on top of one another, and they flew over to her, sliding themselves over her fingers, and Thor made an excited noise.
"My hammer, Mjolnir, does something similar- it flies to me when I'm in need, no matter where I am!" He said enthusiastically, studying the gloves closer, and his pure, unfiltered delight caused her to smile. "Nothing can stop it from returning to me, nothing at all."
"That sounds wonderful, but unfortunately for me, this only works when I'm close to them." She said, and he nodded interestedly as he watched the fabric wrap around her wrist, continuing up to her elbow. "They were a gift, something to help me control my abilities."
She sighed softly in relief as her gloves stilled, a pleasant calm settling over her as she looked over to meet Thor's eyes again.
"They also help protect others from my rather... unfavourable condition." She continued, and he smiled knowingly as she flexed her hand. "Is your friend alright? I did not mean to hurt her, I can not choose when my body reacts. The only thing that has worked is to avoid physical contact."
"Natasha is fine." Thor said comfortingly, and the tightness in Raya's chest lessened slightly. "It left her with only a few bruises. She has survived worse, much worse, I assure you."
Raya returned his placating smile, sitting forward in her chair as she lifted her hand towards his.
"Because of this destabilisier," she said, gesturing for Thor to lie his hand flat on the table, "this will not be as thorough as I wish it to be, but I understand that I wear it to ensure your safety."
He followed her command quickly, sipping on his orange juice as she moved her hand to hover over his.
"This may sting for a moment." She said, and Thor simply shrugged, smiling. "Like your brother, your mind is harder to break into."
Faint, red strings of light began to extend from the palm of her hand, and she hissed softly as they connected with Thor's skin, a sign of her shifting consciousness. She focused her already strained energy on the barriers within his mind, and she heard him groan softly as she crossed the first one.
She was submerged in a wave of recent memories, and she held tightly onto the connection between them as they began to flood her mind.
Slammed doors in the face of his brother, disappointment, betrayal, a city crumbling before him, guilt, electricity ripping through his veins, Mjolnir thrust high into the sky, swinging with triumph in his heart-
As the second barrier crumbled, Thor shifted in his seat as a faint humming noise filled the air, and she took in a deep breath as her energy expanded through his mind, moving towards deeper, more volatile memories.
His lips pressed against a woman's, Loki glaring at him, tears shining in his eyes, an older man yelling, his golden eyepatch shimmering in the colourful lights, pain, anger, sadness, falling through the sky, foolhardy and defeated.
'Loki is a prisoner.'
'Then why do I feel like he's the only one who wants to be here?'
Thor's expression was blank as she opened her eyes, but his eyelid twitched as the third barrier snapped under her pressure, and she knew she should stop soon, she would wear herself out, but the euphoria was building in her chest with each memory uncovered, the rush addictive.
Straining to lift Mjolnir, his weapon, but failing. An older woman's hand holding his, leading him through a garden, a stab wound in his chest, an snake slithering away in his peripheral vision, celebrating with a group of people, people he loved, the smile on Loki's face after he'd let him knock a sword from his hand-
Raya sucked in a deep breath as she eased back out of his mind, and she slowly lowered her hand from above Thor's, the strings of light fading out of sight as the destabiliser hummed again.
Thor seemed to come alive again, his next breath filling his entire body as he straightened up automatically, blinking rapidly.
She waited for him to regain his senses, aware that the first entrance into one's mind could be shocking, and after half a minute, Thor looked up to meet her eyes, smiling.
"I haven't thought about several of those for some time now." He said softly, his expression rife with nostalgia, and Raya picked up her utensils as she bit back a smile.
"You have some beautiful memories." She said truthfully, running them back through her mind. "What I do not understand, however, is how a snake stabbed you."
Thor chuckled as he began to eat again, and Raya followed his example, her eyes widening in surprise as the pancake met her lips, shocked at how enjoyable it was.
"The snake was my brother." Thor said casually, and Raya broke free from her sugar induced reverie to give him a look of disbelief. "Loki has a talent for magic. Our mother, she is quite a good teacher, and he took to her lessons much more easily than I ever did."
As Raya blinked, the older woman from Thor's memories flickered through her mind, a dazzling smile, all encompassing warmth, and she smiled to herself as she marvelled at the way his face seemed to calm as he spoke about her.
"Anyway, he knows I love snakes, so he knew I wouldn't be able to resist picking one up to admire it." Thor continued, pausing for a moment to swallow his pancake before holding out his arms to recreate the scene. "So as I did, he changed back to himself and said 'ah, it's me!' and then he stabbed me."
He let out a soft sigh before adding,
"We were eight at the time."
A laugh fell from Raya's lips, and Thor gave her an amused look as she waved her hands in front of her face, shaking her head as she said quickly,
"That is not funny."
Thor shrugged, grinning at her mirth as he picked up his cup of orange juice once again, swirling the drink as he said,
"He has always had a strange sense of humour. I always knew it was truly never malicious, he simply thought it was good fun." His eyes seemed to darken as he sipped his drink, and Raya watched as the hilarity faded from his expression. "However, now, I am never sure."
Raya tilted her head in question as she chewed her food, and Thor sighed, twisting his drink on the table, seemingly lost in thought.
She stayed silent, waiting for him to continue, fighting to hide how interested she was in his stories, wondering what more Loki could have possibly done.
"I am their prisoner. Just like you."
He'd never mentioned that the one imprisoning him was his brother.
Thor cleared his throat as he looked up at her again, and his warm smile returned as he said,
"Anyway, family is a struggle sometimes. I'm sure you've got some idea."
Raya shrugged her shoulders as she studied the syrup bottle, her mind adrift as she murmured,
"Family is not a comfort to me."
She poured the syrup over her pancakes as Thor watched her interestedly, gesturing for her to continue.
"I never knew my father, and my mother is not like yours." She said indifferently. "Even though my knowledge of her is limited, I can tell."
Thor's smile pulled at his lips as he lifted his hands in confirmation.
"My mother is truly one of a kind." He affirmed, his eyes glazing over slightly, and the warmth of his memories washed through her, glimpses of dances and tight hugs, of warm drinks and forehead kisses causing her chest to constrict jealously. "She took care of Loki and I as best she could, instilling in us the very morals we abide by."
Raya narrowed her eyes slightly at the adoration on his face, ignoring the envy she felt at his memories as she said,
"From what you have said, I gather Loki did not take to those lessons."
Thor shook his head as he smothered a slice of his pancake in syrup, his gaze refocusing on her.
"You mustn't hold it against him. Our tumultuous relationship has no one more right or more wrong than the other. I simply miss the days where my trust for him was unbreakable, where I could believe him when he spoke, instead of sifting through riddles laden with lies."
Raya carefully lifted her food to her lips, taking a small bite, feeling uncomfortably at ease even though she knew it could not last.
There was no use in pretending this hospitality would continue if she didn't answer their questions, if she didn't begin to talk.
"While all of this is... strange," she said softly as Thor sat forwards in his chair, "I think we should get to what you came here for."
Thor smiled sadly, but by the look in his eyes, she knew she'd been right in her assumptions.
"I know they have been watching us." She said calmly, folding her pancake so it would slide more easily onto her fork. "I know you are here to question me, just as your brother was last night."
There was no attempt to deny her words, only a slightly sheepish look, and she couldn't help feel slightly saddened, even though there was no purpose for it.
He had not lied about his intentions. He had been honest, and that was what mattered.
As the thought crossed her mind, she wondered, despite all she'd been told, whether Loki had been honest in his intentions as well.
"You are right." Thor said quietly, and Raya nodded, pulling the piece of pancake off her fork, enjoying the sweet taste as she waited for him to continue. "But there is no reason it has to be an uncomfortable ordeal. We want to know you, and we are trying to keep you safe."
"Safe..." she whispered, more to herself than him, her expression turning sombre. "Such an unfamiliar term."
Thor watched her intently, and she was confused on the strange stab of pain that flared in her chest as she caught sight of the flicker of fear in his eyes.
Everyone, always the same.
"You already know my name." Raya said, dropping his gaze as she continued to cut at her food, eager to do anything to get the numb feeling off her mind. "I am sure you understand that I am not from this place; Earth, was it?"
Thor simply nodded and she continued.
"I am from Cirica." She said, smiling slightly at the confusion that momentarily contorted Thor's features. "It is far from here; I suspect several universes over, if Mother followed through with her rousing ambition."
Her last words were laced with anger, and the irritation at her situation bit at her heart yet again even as Thor asked,
"Your mother sent you here?"
Raya laughed to herself, shaking her head as she slid another piece of pancake onto her fork.
"No, no, sent isn't the right world. She forced me here after a battle broke out during my coronation."
Thor's eyes widened in shock at the final word, but instead of hatred or anger, the words out of his mouth were filled with joy.
"A coronation? I had one as well, does that mean you're a princess?"
Taken aback by his unusual elation, Raya felt her body tense in warning as she struggled to comprehend his attitude.
"Yes, I am."
"Loki!" Thor said excitedly, getting to his feet and moving across the room, leaving a perplexed Raya to stare at his empty seat for a moment as she tried to catch up. "She is of royal blood! Just like us!"
Raya slowly turned in her seat to look over at him, watching as he waved up at the camera in the corner of her room, confused at his reaction.
On the other side of the screen, Loki was staring in disbelief as his brother continued to speak, feeling much like Tony, who was rubbing his eyes in irritation as he sighed heavily.
"Remind me again why we let him go in there?" Tony said in annoyance, and everyone remained silent, not up to challenging him as they watched the two people on the screen.
"We don't see many often-" Thor was saying, and Loki exhaled hard, forcing himself to keep watching the train wreck unfolding in front of him. "Earth has monarchs, yes, but they're all very stuffy I've found, not very open to fun like we are-"
"Oh for gods sake-" Nat muttered, pressing a button on the console as Tony turned away, laughing in breathless exasperation, and Loki glanced down to see a small microphone lifting up from out of the table next to his hands. "Talk to him."
Raya was still watching him curiously as Thor gestured wildly at her, and Loki's eyes paused on her face for a moment before he leaned towards the mic and said,
"Yes, it's quite fantastic, brother! Very interesting information!"
These words seemed to placate Thor, who grinned and began to walk back to his chair, and Loki couldn't help but let his eyes drift to Raya again.
Royal descent.
It was interesting, he had to give Thor that much credit, but he barely got enough time to process it before he was pushed to the side by Nat, who began furiously typing in another tab, searching through what looked like S.H.I.E.L.D. databases for references to 'Cirica'.
Back in Raya's room, Thor took his seat again, and Raya kept her eyes on the camera for a moment before she turned back towards him, quickly taking a sip from her orange juice to stop her laughter.
"If you are a princess, why do you not address yourself as such in your introductions?" Thor said, as if he hadn't moved at all, and Raya shrugged.
"'Crown Princess of Cirica' does not mean much to those who have no idea of its implications." She said as she refilled her cup, her expression stony as she looked back up to meet his eyes. "It is nothing but a title."
"I quite like it." Thor said matter-of-factly, and he lifted in his fork to gesture as he added, "it is powerful, as if it's able to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies."
He stabbed his pancake fiercely, and Raya considered his words, slightly confused at his praise.
She wasn't familiar with it, and it felt strange to hear it said with so much sincerity, as if he was genuinely impressed.
Yet another thing to be confused by.
"I know it might be strange to ask," Thor said, looking up at her again, and panic flashed through her, worried of what he might want from her, her fingers gripping the table slightly harder, "but do you believe you would be up to meeting my friends?"
She let out a breath, her shoulders slightly tensed as she pulled herself to the edge of her seat, sipping her drink in thought as he waited for her reply.
Meeting all the Avengers. Earth's defence against interplanetary war.
"I suppose I do not have much of a choice." She said as she placed her cup back on the table, finally meeting his eyes. "There is no use to me rotting in this room."
Thor smiled at her for a moment, and she followed his lead as he quickly got to his feet, watching as he hurriedly collected their half empty plates.
"I will wait outside for you." He said quickly, shooting her a smile as he pulled open the door for himself, leaving her confused at the table by his excitement. "Your clothing from yesterday is in the bathroom; Stark used his mechanical claws to fix the broken... fabric."
He seemed to linger on the last word, looking at her for confirmation, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion, unsure why he would bother to 'fix' it.
Perhaps they did not fashion their armor from the same flesh she did.
"It is a fine suit, anyway." he said, moving quickly past the subject as he pushed her door open with one of his feet, using his hip to hold it open as he balanced plates in his arms. "Durable."
Raya simply nodded at him as he turned out of the door, a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth as she walked towards the bathroom quickly.
As she wrenched open the door, her suit was resting on the sink, pristine and pressed, unlike the bathroom, which was still coated in her blood and lined with broken glass.
She picked it up quickly, sighing as the familiar sensation of it rubbed against her skin, and she wondered just how the Avengers would respond to her presence as she began to pull off her shirt, her heart racing slightly in her nervousness.
Just how long were they willing to keep up this facade of hospitality?
As she began to slide her arms into the sleeves of her body suit, she looked up into the mirror, and saw her face, distrust etched into her expression, and she felt slightly defeated as the next thought crossed her mind.
Just how long were they planning to keep her alive?
*
9:54 am, May 5th, 2012.
Her chest constricted as the elevator came to a stop, and she froze as the doors opened, her eyes flicking up to the hallway before her.
It was empty, electric lights lining the roof, and she could hear muffled voices up ahead, and as Thor stepped off, he put his arms up to keep the doors from closing, meeting her eyes with a knowing look in his eyes.
"You are safe, Raya." He said, his tone comforting, and she inhaled slowly, giving him a tight smile, clenching her fists nervously as her palms ached for the familiar touch of her weapons. "They will not harm you."
How desperately she wanted to trust him.
Forgoing his offered hand, she stepped off the elevator, her heart growing louder in her ears as he began to lead her down the hall, towards a partially opened doorway, and she tried to soothe the tremble in her hands as she stared at it.
She could barely remember their faces; everything from yesterday had been so confusing, a blur of pain and loss, of burning anger and sadness.
She didn't know what to expect, and that made her sick to her stomach.
Thor paused before pushing the door open, glancing at her almost for confirmation, and the consideration caught her so off guard that she didn't get a chance to vocalise her response, simply nodding.
The room she walked into was flooded with warmth, and the tension on her body released slightly as it was greeted with the familiar sensation.
There were six people before her, and she only recognised two: Loki, who was watching them with irritated eyes, his mouth covered by what appeared to be a metal muzzle, and Natasha, who was sipping from a mug that read 'Stark Industries'.
Her heart seemed to be trying to rip itself from her chest as her hands instinctively moved to protect herself, but her destabilisier hissed, dispersing her power, and she was forcibly reminded that she was very much at their mercy.
Silence filled the room as she walked with Thor, trying to keep up an air of confidence as she moved towards danger, and her only comfort was how relaxed Thor was next to her, even with several eyes boring into her, causing her to pick at her suit to distract herself.
She didn't know their weaknesses; Loki could be manipulated with words, but that would take build up, and she was too weak from yesterday to force up enough energy to control them all, even if she weren't wearing the destabilisier.
"Our guest of honor has arrived." The man by the counter said, his hand flicking a shimmering screen away from his face as he met her eyes, and her arms tensed as he looked at her.
This movement was not missed by Thor, who immediately sent a calming look her way, raising his hand before him in a placating motion, and she clenched her fist, her eyes darting all over the dark haired man's face.
Flesh, easily bruised, hand to head, one to jaw, snap, dead-
"Do not tease her, Stark." Thor said, his voice layered with a thinly veiled warning, and the man sighed, his head rolling onto his palm.
She assumed they already knew her name, but it would allow her to regain some sense of composure if she restated herself, so she spoke, her voice strong as she met Stark's eyes.
"I am Raya Cain." Thor gestured for her to continue and she sighed softly to herself, gritting her teeth slightly at the excited expression on his face. "Crown Princess of Cirica. Goddess of Chaos."
Thor looked over to his friends, and if she had been more relaxed, she might have smiled at the enthusiastic way his eyes flicked to each of them, as if he were a child awaiting his parent's praise after presenting them with a painting.
Natasha lifted her cup in her form of hello, and the man standing at her shoulder spoke for himself as he swirled his spoon in a bowl of what looked like colourful hoops.
"Clint Barton. Hawkeye."
She gave him a cordial nod, her eyes moving quickly over to Natasha’s bandaged arm, and guilt caused her chest to ache before she forced herself to look away. Her eyes moved back to the other familiar face, and at the look of annoyance in Loki’s eyes, her heart pounded hard in her chest.
Something about him put her on edge, and judging by the wide berth every other Avenger seemed to give him, she was not the only one who felt that way.
"Why is he gagged?" She asked, holding Loki's gaze, narrowing her eyes as his jaw clenched, and Stark laughed humourlessly, straightening up from his resting position on the island.
"He couldn't keep his face shut, so I did it for him." He said smoothly, and a smile picked at her hesitant lips as Loki's eyes rolled.
Thor exhaled irritably, and Stark lifted his hands in defeat, clearly enjoying the situation immensely as he spoke directly to the man, smiling without a trace of regret.
"What? God of Mischief can't take a joke?"
Loki huffed angrily, and Raya concealed her smile behind her hand, her eyes flickering over to Clint and Natasha, who were laughing quietly, looking as if they were barely keeping it together.
A man with a serious expression and crossed arms was staring at her, and as she met his eyes, he tipped his head to her, his voice formal as he said,
"Steve Rogers, ma'am."
Thor cleared his throat, and Steve glanced at him before continuing.
"Captain America."
Raya nodded as if she understood the importance of this title, her eyes catching on the shimmer of the final man's glasses, and as she looked at him, she was met with a stony glare.
She could sense rage radiating off him, not directed at her, but simply an uncontainable fire of anger, burning brightly in his dark eyes, and she sucked in a deep breath, every cell in her body screaming danger.
"Dr Bruce Banner." He said, his tone cold, and she wondered how she could've possibly pissed him off in the few moments they'd shared a room. "Hulk."
He said the last word as if it were laced with poison, and she looked to Thor for an explanation, noting the way he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
Later then.
"And I am the owner of this house." Stark said as something began blinking red on the screen before him, but he ignored it in favour of his introduction. "Tony Stark. Iron man."
She nodded, letting a smile cross her lips as he suddenly turned to the screen and her gaze was pulled back to Thor, following closely behind him as he put the plates down in the kitchen, her heart still racing as the group's eyes remained on her.
She readjusted her gloves further up her arms as she walked past Loki, and she caught the look he sent her way, a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
She returned it, and saw the cockiness in his expression fade as half formed memories were dragged into her mind.
Bathroom floor, tiles cold against his skin, red flashes of light invading his sleep, his face covered in blood, his hands blurry before him, trembling, coated crimson-
She moved past him quickly, leaving him dazed behind her, her eyes narrowed in confusion as she stayed by Thor's side, looking out at the Avengers, and as she took in their relaxed state, more tension left her body, and she slowly unclenched her hands.
She could feel their eyes were boring into her, clearly trying to form questions, evaluating them in their minds, and she didn't offer up anything, not really knowing what to say.
After a few minutes of silence, only broken by clinking bowls and the kettle, Thor handed her a cup of warm liquid, and she looked at it suspiciously before taking a reluctant sip at the eager look in his eyes.
She seemed almost incapable of disappointing him now, and she sighed inwardly as the drink warmed her lips, knowing it was a bad idea to have a weakness so early on.
"So..." Tony said suddenly, the red light still flashing on his screen, and she turned to him, tilting her head to show she was listening. "Are you here to kill us?"
She blinked before a small laugh slipped out of her lips, and she shook her head quickly.
"No, as I told Thor, it was not my choice to end up here. I was forced." She smiled slightly, keeping her grip tight on the cup as she added, "If I were, I'd be doing a terrible job of it."
She wiggled her arm, her destabilisier flashing in the electric light, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nat's lips perk up into a smile.
Tony nodded, seeming to accept the information as fact, and his voice remained calm as he continued, leaning almost lazily toward her.
"And why were you forced here exactly? Feel free to be brief with the family drama; I've dealt with enough of that today."
Several of the Avengers shifted, and she bit back a smile as she noticed they'd all turned to glance towards Loki, who made a noise of frustration, his cuffed hands resting on the table before him as he glared over at Clint.
"My mother decided she wanted the throne for much longer than she would get it. She listened to the words of a madman, and allowed herself to be pushed by her desire for power, letting her thirst for chaos to consume her." Raya said nonchalantly, her eyes falling to the liquid in her cup as she swirled it around slightly. "She had been sensing a powerful pull to this universe for months now; some intense summoning magic, and she timed everything almost too well."
She could feel their anticipation, and it felt so strange to have such a captive audience as she spoke so openly, and she fought against the urge to shut down her words.
This was important, not just to her, but to them as well. She didn't need to give them another reason not to trust her, but even as she spoke the truth, she began to sweat under their gaze.
She let out a shaky breath, and met Thor's eyes as he gave her a comforting nod, and she reorganised her thoughts.
"She received a powerful pulse from the magic, and was able to locate it, as it was offered up so openly. We fought, but due to her new master's influence, she was able to gain the upper hand."
She gestured to her stomach, sure they had seen the burns yesterday, and she was met with a slightly awkward silence, many of them stoically avoiding her gaze, and it made her feel slightly ill to realise they'd seen her in such a vulnerable state.
"She sent me through a portal, into the pull of the magic, as far from our universe as she could; I'm sure she meant for the journey to kill me." She pushed forward, her hand gripping the bench before her, her eyes drifting back over to Loki, who's hands were clenched before him. "But apparently, killing me is something she has failed at yet again."
Once again, everyone's heads slowly turned towards Loki, who was stubbornly avoiding their gaze, and Raya blinked in confusion as Clint's hand tightened on his cup.
"Alright-" she said, putting her drink back onto the table, and then their eyes were on her again. "Can someone please enlighten me to what your prisoner has done? I'm very confused."
Tony chuckled, clicking the screen before him, and she realised he had been recording her as she spoke, and her skin crawled.
"Why don't you see for yourself?" Tony said, and Thor stood up straighter, his hand raised, his mouth open to stop him, but Tony simply pressed the button on the screen as he added, "Keep it cool, Point Break, she can handle it."
The opaque glass around them suddenly turned transparent, and she stepped up to the it, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the destruction around her.
The city had been decimated, buildings toppled onto the streets, and she could see people still running through the streets as a thick layer of dust and smoke blurred her vision of the outside.
"Lovely sight, isn't it?" Tony said sarcastically, but Raya's face had tightened into a frown, her eyes moving out to the sky.
The blue of it was shimmering, red light sparking at random increments behind the clouds that were descending on the city, and she considered it before speaking.
"He didn't do this alone." She said softly, her eyes landing on the shell of something large shining in the limited sunlight. "Did he?"
Behind her, she heard Loki's noise of frustration, but she ignored it in favour of Tony's words.
"No. He had an army." He said casually, and as helicopters flew out over the skyline, she studied them closely. "The- what was it, Chiturai? Chitoori?"
His question hadn't been directed at her, but her blood went cold as she looked around, her mind suddenly alive with panic.
"The Chitauri?" she said, and as she watched the helicopters lifted a beast into the air, her heart clenched, the world seemed to come to a dead still, her breathing echoing in her ears.
She turned slowly, her skin beginning to burn as her mind was sent reeling, and she met Loki's eyes, saw his apprehensive gaze, and her hand began to tremble.
"How did he get them here?" She ripped her eyes away from Loki to look at Tony, but Nat was the one who answered, straightening up from the wall, her eyes narrowing at the change in Raya's expression.
"The Tesseract, he used it to create a portal, and it allowed the army through."
Rage was beginning to race through her veins, solidifying the expression on her face as her hand continued to shake, and her breathing was deep, slow, as her palms stung familiarly.
The destabilisier hissed at her, but she didn't care, could barely feel it as she returned her eyes to Loki, her shoulders tense as she glared at him.
"My mother was drawn in by a power, one that beckoned to be used, that begged, that called to her. The Cube." Her voice was trembling with anger, and she could hear someone unsheathing a weapon, but she didn't care. "For months, she plotted, she tried to summon its power, and I told her it was foolish, that The Great One wouldn't accept it, wouldn't let the power corrupt her."
The air was thick with tension, and everyone was silent as they watched her, but she could barely see them, could only focus on him, on Loki, his eyes pleading with her, as if he knew.
"I was wrong, and she used it against me. The power you unleashed is terrible, and you used it, what, for a pitiful attempt at destruction?" Her voice was only growing louder as the flames of her rage ignited her vocal cords with fury singed words, gesturing to the broken city behind her.
"Who is The Great One?"
Her head snapped over to Tony, who had risen half out of his chair, his eyes darting between Loki and Raya, his cocky smile gone.
Raya laughed humourlessly, her hand going to her face as her skin burned, her eyes stinging as her vision became tainted with crimson, and the words left her lips as if they were acid, burning on her tongue at the dark memories attached to them.
"He is the destroyer of worlds, of universes, the One who has begun to poison each world with powers out of our control."
She took in a deep breath, her chest tight, aching, and her body seemed to be shaking from rage as she continued, her eyes locking on Loki once again.
He looked horrified, and it was clear, he knew, he'd been in on it, he was an accomplice, he knew who she spoke of with so much hatred.
"He helped my mother destroy our world, and I was powerless to stop it, because she drained me, millions dead, because she was able to cast me out, strand me here!"
Her voice was ripped up into a yell as her anger got the best of her, and she could feel the familiar pulse of power in her chest, her rage causing the destabilisier to hiss uselessly, and she winced, gritting her teeth as it zapped her.
"So much death, so much pain, and I cannot stop it." She was speaking fast now, the words falling from her lips, poisonous, furious, and her skin was on fire as something in her cracked. "I cannot stop it, because of you!"
She was moving, so quickly she could barley register it, but suddenly, her hands were on Loki's armour, gripping it, and the metal was burning, burning under her fingers as heat pulsed through her body, her eyes stinging as her line of sight blurred into shades of red.
"The Tesseract is volatile, it is dangerous, and you, you brought it here, you awoke it's power, you are the reason I was dragged here!" She lifted Loki slightly off his chair before forcing him hard against the back of it, and he made a choked sound as he shook his head, his eyes darting desperately around for help.
The Avengers were yelling, telling her to stop, and his armour was falling apart in her hands, but she didn't care, she could only glare at him as she whispered, her voice trembling with fury,
"Did you know?"
Loki stared at her, fear so clearly etched into his eyes, and she was so sick of seeing it, but now, now it made her feel powerful.
She slammed him against the chair again in frustration as he stayed frozen, ignoring Thor's yell of 'Raya!' as her voice cut through the air, hoarse with rage.
"Did you know?"
The answer was written over his face, but she wanted to hear his pathetic confirmation, wanted to be sure that he had some sort of grasp on what he had done, and her anger only worsened as he slowly nodded.
She gripped his armour tighter in her hands, and her heart was racing as rage rushed through her and a laugh fell from her lips, borne from her anger as she stared at him.
"I should have ripped out your fucking throat." She whispered, and heat surged through to her hands as his face contorted in pain, her gloves coloured by his melting clothing, by the skin that began to liquify under her fingers.
"Raya!"
Her eyes broke away from Loki's horrified expression, her hands still holding him tightly, her breaths coming heavily as she met Thor's panicked gaze, his voice sharp with worry.
"Let him go." He said, his voice softened in an attempt to relax her, and her eyes flicked around to the other Avengers as Loki squirmed under her, his pained noises muffled as they escaped him.
Steve, Nat and Clint paused in their advances towards her, their weapons raised in warning, Tony's finger hovering over a large button on his screen, and as she turned her gaze to her chest, she realised there was a red dot lying over her heart.
Bruce was hidden in the shadows, watching the scene unfold, and as Raya glanced at him, a cold chill was sent down her spine at the absence of fear on his face.
"Let him go." Thor repeated, his voice slightly desperate, and there was a crashing noise as he raised his hand, a hammer flying into his palm, electricity crackling around the handle as their eyes met.
She could see the terror in his expression, and her hands lightened slightly on Loki's chest, the burn fading from her skin as he pleaded with her, and she let out a harsh breath, turning back to glare at Loki as she tossed his body against the chair.
Loki was writhing in pain as his armour continued to melt against his skin, and she hissed as the destabilisier sent shocks up her arm, her expression touched by a hint of a grim smile.
She forced her eyes to return Tony as Thor pushed past her, reaching for his brother, and she grunted in pain as the destabilisier shocked her again and again.
"You have no idea what he has unleashed on this world, on this universe." She whispered through the pain, and for the first time, his expression was serious. "This attack on your city is nothing. The Great One will stop at nothing to find what He needs."
Tony was tense, his eyes fixed on her, and she knew the red light would be hovering over her chest but she didn't break eye contact, her hands still trembling as electricity shot through her painfully.
"Tell me you have it."
The way Tony's face tightened, the way his eyes became shadowed, told her everything, but rage still flared within her as he said,
"We don't."
She let out a sigh, half from frustration, half from pain as her skin bristled, forcing herself to withstand the shocks.
She dropped her gaze from him, not even glancing over her shoulder as she twisted her neck in agony, and she was breathing hard as the electricity moved through her skin, her body shaking as she walked towards the door.
A gun suddenly pressed itself into the back of her head, and she heard Natasha's voice from behind her as her body stiffened.
"Third floor, second door to the left. It will help you calm yourself."
Raya was tempted to turn around, but she stayed frozen as the gun cocked.
"I understand your anger." The woman said, her voice light, even as the sounds of Loki struggling behind them filled the air. "Work it out. Do not let it consume you."
She could almost hear the experience in her tone, could feel the familiarity in her words, and she nodded firmly, keeping her eyes straight ahead as the gun was slowly lowered from her skull.
"We will need you, if you are right about this threat." Natasha said as Raya took a step forward, moving to quash the tremble in her fist as the woman's voice grew even more serious. "But I will not hesitate to kill you if this happens again."
As she reached the door, she looked back at Natasha, and she took in a deep breath, a cruel smile playing around her lips as she met her eyes.
"Good." She cleared her throat as the woman placed her gun back in her holster, her words bland, sincere. "At least you have common sense."
Natasha gave her a tight smile, and Raya's eyes flicked behind her, rage still pulsing through her veins as she watched Loki groan, a burn mark clear across his chest.
Guilt rushed through her, and she forced her gaze away as she took off down the hallway, following Nat's directions as her heartbeat echoed loudly through her ears.
She was struggling to collect her thoughts, to connect them with each other, and everytime she got close, her stomach tightened with discomfort, nausea flooding her senses as the destabilisier finally slowed in its shocks.
She couldn't do anything from here, from this tower. She needed to find the Cube: it was her ticket home, a way for her to return to stop her mother's rule, to salvage her planet.
If she had it, He couldn't get it. The Great One wouldn't have all He needed to make His dream a reality.
As she stepped into the elevator, her mind muddled with dark thoughts, she wondered just how long it would take for her mother to realise she was still alive.
She didn't want to think about how much danger that would bring.
*
Bluegrass Farms, Jeffersonville, Ohio.
2:47 pm, May 5th, 2012.
Henry stumbled into the homestead, wiping his face with the back of his hand as he pulled his brimmed hat from his head, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Sarah!" He called, his voice echoing through the house as his eyes darted from left to right, his vision blurred by his sweat as his hand wandered over the countertop to the sink.
There was no reply to his call, and he chugged a glass of water before turning back towards their living room, tossing his hat onto the back of a chair.
"Sarah? I'm sorry I'm late, Leo needed help with the last of the cattle..." his voice trailed off as he walked into their bedroom, finding it empty.
He blinked in confusion, and the skin on the back of his neck prickled as he removed his jacket, placing it on the end of the bed before he moved back towards the door.
It wasn't like her to ignore him, no matter how late he was. She usually met him at the door, so that fact that she hadn't was in itself was strange, and he had the distinct sense that eyes were on him.
He winced as a whirring noise suddenly caught his attention, and he spun around, looking out onto his verandah.
A cold breeze bit at him as he stepped out onto it, and he narrowed his eyes in confusion; it wasn't supposed to be cold, it was spring, for gods sake, and the sun was still shining behind him as he looked out at his garden.
Their vegetables were shining in the golden light as the sun began to set, and he rested his hands on the sides of his face to amplify his voice as he shouted,
"Sarah!"
His call was met with stony silence, and he glanced over at their driveway, his eyes wandering over their cars, parked in the same positions as this morning when he'd left.
Something rustled in the bushes ahead of him, and he looked up quickly, his hands going to grip the wooden railing as a flash of panic rushed through him, setting his nerves on edge.
He could feel it now, in his chest, some sort of heavy weight, foreboding, unsettling.
His breaths became slightly sharper and his voice was trembling as he looked out at the seemingly empty garden, shouting,
"Look, this isn't funny, darling! You're really freaking me out, will you just come inside?"
This time, a small chittering noise filled the air in response to his yell, and something thudded to the ground, rolling to rest between their tomatoes.
His stomach dropped as he stared at it, his heart suddenly very loud in his ears.
Sarah's mouth was agape, as if she had been screaming, and as her head flopped to lay between the rows, he made a dry heaving sound, stumbling back into the chair behind him, horror tearing through his chest.
He was unable to look away as her lifeless eyes stared unfocused into the sky, blood leaking into the dirt from where her neck had been severed, and he didn't know what to do, falling over himself in fear.
He knocked into something hard, and there was an irritated growl from behind him as he spun around, his heart racing as he stared at the monstrosity before him.
The creature's jaws were tainted with crimson, and flesh hung from between its pointed teeth as it glared at him, its head tilted almost as if in curiosity as its skin slowly faded out from the colour of the wood behind it.
Its arms were coated in scales, claws awash with fresh blood as it slowly began to advance upon him, and he was panicking, his mind not caught up with his body as he was forced back against the railing, letting out a shout as it twisted its head, one beady red eye watching him.
In his haste, he caught himself on the railing, splinters stabbing into his hands as he fought to jump over it, but just as he pulled himself up, something shot out to grab his ankle, and he fell, hitting his jaw and almost biting through his tongue.
His scream was lost as the creature pressed a foot onto his back, curious chirping sounds leaving its mouth as a bone cracked under its weight.
He was breathless as pain surged through him, and he could see more eyes on him, hidden away in the bushes, and as the creature's claw was forced deep into his back, his head was turned towards a row of lettuce, and he gasped.
Blood stained the leaves, and a leg was lying in between the rows, another creature issuing a sound almost like laughter as it sunk its teeth deep into the flesh of Sarah's headless body, its fiery eyes turned towards him.
He couldn't even struggle, but he forced out a scream as the creature above him slowly began to turn him over, its rancid breath fanning out over his face as it gnashed its teeth hungrily.
As his organs began to spill out over the floor, he couldn't even yell, could only watch as his blood coated the wood, and the horrific sounds of the creature's laughing cry echoed through the trees that surrounded his home as they began to feast.
The Empress smiled to herself, opening her teary eyes as her pets' shrieks of excitement faded from her mind, and she stared out over the empty throne room, her chest heaving as a spike drove itself deeper through her stomach, power surging within her.
Their plan was in motion. The Great One had placed his faith in the wrong General at first, but she would not join the weak god on the list of His failures.
The humans would cower, would weep, would beg for the salvation only she could provide; would pray for her sweet chaos to rule over them.
Her mind was spinning, split into a million different spaces, but a clear thought crossed it, sweeping over her in great waves of glee.
Finally.
Chapter 3: I Owe You A Black Eye (And Two Kisses)
Notes:
heyyyy im back! unfortunately, school and life consumes me, so this chapter isn’t as long as the others (yes, breathe your sighs of relief now everyone), and the next chapter may be in the works for even longer than this one due to all my assessments :( however, i will try! thank you for all the support and all those bookmarking this <3 ilysm
these guys are pretty silly this chapter so i hope you enjoy, and some of our favourite characters are beginning to show up now… im sure it will be very difficult for you to guess who they are :)
this chapter is dedicated to drea, aka the other half of my mind (and the other reason im posting this now)
chapter title from crush - ethel Cain
Chapter Text
Stark Tower, New York City.
10:42 pm, May 7th, 2012.
The door slid open smoothly, a small hiss coming from the seal, and Tony rubbed his eyes tiredly as he stepped through it, massaging his temple in irritation.
For hours, he’d been staring at the same two faces, the same two Asgardian thorns in his fucking side, and he felt like he needed a drink, something that would hit him so hard across the face that his mind would go blank.
He flicked up the camera system for the building onto his watch, a smile passing over his lips as he watched Loki pace angrily, and he turned towards his study, counting down the seconds.
The only thing the god seemed to be able to repeat was that he couldn’t remember, was that he didn’t know, was that Raya’s anger was undeserved, and he could hear his snarky tone tainting his thoughts as he searched through his drawers for his vodka; surely he’d have some Golden Grain lying around here.
Raya’s outburst hadn’t stopped replaying in his mind, and he couldn’t downplay the fear he’d felt when she’d moved so quickly, when she’d grabbed onto Loki; how her rage seemed to burn through the air.
She’d been wearing a destabilisier, something built for gods and The Hulk, and she’d still managed to burn through metal, to melt Loki’s skin, yet another thing the god hadn’t shut the fuck up about during their hours of interrogation.
It had been two days since he’d seen her, but he’d been able to hear her.
Nat had told her to use the training rooms, and as far as he knew, she hadn’t left them since. He’d only been able to make out slight yells of frustration, followed by the sounds of breaking wood or sand flying out of punching bags.
He couldn’t have imagined that the merest mention of the Chitauri would’ve inspired all of this chaos, and as he finally wrapped his hand around a bottle, the memory of her furious expression as she met his eyes sent a chill down his spine.
He’d seen something in them, something like flames, flickering deep within in her irises as crimson swirled out into her sclera, and he’d felt a primal sense of utter horror, pinned under her angry gaze.
It was like she could see through him, as if she had reached into his mind and begun to rip it apart, scouring every thought he’d ever had, and he shook his head against the dread that began to burn at him, quickly untwisting the lid from his bottle.
It was almost like it hadn’t clicked in his mind that she was truly dangerous, even though he’d seen what she’d done to Natasha. Avoidable , he’d thought then, his mind already working to find a way they could avoid her touch. When she’d advanced on Loki, he’d been able to train a sniper on her immediately, he’d been able to anticipate what she was doing.
He’d made a mistake however.
He’d assumed she would be predictable, like Loki. That she’d adhere to a moral code, like Thor.
But the look in her eyes, the way her face contorted in rage… if Thor hadn’t stopped her, if he hadn’t pleaded, Tony was very sure she would’ve killed Loki right in front of them.
That was the thought that scared him the most. The fact that even though she was out of her depth, even though her powers had been culled, she was still capable of causing this much damage, and she’d done it so easily.
He sipped from his bottle, large gulps of vodka disappearing down his throat, and he hissed in pain as it hit him, burning through his chest as he forced himself to swallow.
Fuck , he was exhausted.
Coughing slightly, he leant forward towards his computer, tapping a few keys, and a voice perked up from the screen.
“Hello, sir.”
“Jarvis, give me an update on Pepper.”
He glanced towards the security cameras, watching as Clint moved around the kitchen, rolling his eyes as he saw the man using his coffee machine yet again.
“Miss Potts has been in City Hall for approximately two hours. She has sent forward plans for the reconstruction of the top floor, and has suggested you look over them as soon as possible.” Jarvis said, cutting through his train of thought, and he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Has she said how much longer she will be down there?” He said, standing as he took another burning sip of vodka, grimacing at the taste.
“Due to the severity of the situation, she has determined at least three more hours.” Jarvis replied, and Tony shook his head, placing his bottle back on the table. “Aside from that, sir, you have several missed calls from Director Fury-“
“Leave it.” Tony said quickly, his eyes following an agitated Loki through the cameras, watching as he left his room. “If it’s urgent, he’ll break down the front door anyway.”
“As you wish, sir.” Jarvis said, and Tony moved quickly, leaving the bottle of vodka open on his desk in his haste.
The lock on his study door clicked as he left it, and he tried to control his pace as the world shifted slightly under his feet.
He was excited, even though he knew it was a silly idea. Thor would have his head if he found out he was putting his brother in harms way like this; but he really couldn’t care less.
He finally stumbled into the door of the training rooms and pulled it open quickly, his gaze immediately going to the two way mirror as the sound of Raya training got louder, and as she paused, her hands raised in front of her face, his eyes travelled to her blood strained gloves, lying in the dirt beside her feet.
“Tony?”
A voice to his right caused him to jump, and as he looked over, Natasha was staring at him, her eyes crinkled in confusion, her arms crossed over her chest as she turned in her seat to face him.
“What are you doing here?”
“I own this building.” He said quickly, trying to keep his voice even as she stared him down. “I can be wherever I want.”
Nat kept her eyes on him, unconvinced, and he cleared his throat awkwardly as he asked, trying to divert her thoughts,
“What are you doing down here? Get sick of listening to Capsicle’s incoherent babbling about how much he hates my tower?”
Nat shifted in her seat, rolling her eyes as she turned back to face Raya, and he let out a breath of relief, his excuse accepted for the moment and moved to take a seat beside her.
“No, I’ve been keeping an eye on her. Making sure she doesn’t kill herself.” Nat said simply, and Tony watched as Raya ripped through a punching bag with her bare hands, the air around her tinted red.
Her gaze was empty, and she stared down at the broken fabric for a few moments, her hands bloody and clenched at her sides.
Briefly, he wondered what she was seeing, but then she was already moving, her body tense as she faced the dummy in the centre of the room.
“I think she can handle herself.” Tony said calmly, ignoring how fast his heart was beating, his chest tightening ever so slightly as he followed the woman’s quick movements.
Nat let out a small breath, and he glanced at her, noting the troubled look on her face as her jaw tightened.
“What?” He asked, and she didn’t look at him, her eyes darting to follow Raya’s hands as they quickly swiped towards the dummy’s stomach.
There was something hidden in her silence, he knew it; something he knew he shouldn’t to pry for, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“What is it?”
Nat glanced at him, a beat of silence passed, then the words rushed from her mouth as if they burnt her tongue.
“She fights like someone I knew.”
Her eyes seemed slightly glazed as her head slowly turned back to look at Raya, and he noticed her hand tightening around her forearm.
“Someone from a long time ago.”
Tony let his eyes follow Raya again, watching as the woman’s blood splattered on the wall behind the new dummy, the look in her dark eyes savage, almost primal.
She was hitting the dummy with an easy sense of precision, her body tense as she kept the strikes even, waiting until it swung back towards her to take a hit, the sound of it thudding against the wall echoing loudly through the space.
Tony’s stomach turned over, watching the wood beginning to crack as it held up the dummy, a dent pressed into the metal behind it.
“Remind me to ask you more about your life one day, Romanoff.” Tony said half jokingly, forcing himself to drop his eyes from Raya, not quite sure why the sight set his nerves so on edge.
Nat answered only with a tight lipped smile, Raya’s grunts of overexertion filling the air, but he couldn’t look back and see the blood painting the wall; it was causing his alcohol riddled system to push nausea through him.
They sat in silence for a moment, Tony’s fingers tapping the side of his chair for a moment as his eyes darted nervously to the door inside the arena, and in his peripheral vision, he caught Nat giving him a sidelong glance.
“She hasn’t stopped for two days, Tony.” Nat said quietly, her normally strong voice tinged with something he couldn’t quite place. “For nothing. No food, not even water.”
She gestured to the floor of the small arena, and his eyes found the small collection of meals in the corner, untouched, some looking much more sour than the others.
“She’s been…” Natasha continued, her tone tinged with unease. “Drinking her own blood. Slicing her skin open and just… licking it off her arms.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed in disgust as his gaze moved back to Raya, noting the slight flash of red along the bare skin of her wrist as she tore another dummy in two.
“Thor came by yesterday, but she didn’t even turn when he spoke to her.” Natasha said, and Tony’s lips pursed at this revelation.
Their one connection to her, probably severed now.
He sighed quietly, rubbing his face as he heard the ripping of more fabric from before him.
“She doesn’t even look like she’s here .” Nat’s voice was almost fearful, and it confused him. “Her eyes, they’re empty. It’s like…”
Her words trailed off, and he looked at her curiously, his vodka addled mind still catching the way her expression tightened, as if she’d been about to give too much away.
“She’s practiced.” Nat said instead, filling the silence, her voice covering the words he knew were stuck in her throat, but he didn’t press her for it; he was smarter than that. “Years of practice by the looks of it; she’s repeating so many moves, as if it’s almost too easy to slip into them. She’s been trained.”
Tony had the strangest feeling that Nat wasn’t just talking about Raya anymore, but he blinked to clear his mind as he said,
“That’s not what you’re worried about though, is it?”
Natasha’s eyes were turned away from him now, and he could only sit to wait for her answer, her worry seeming to seep into him, causing him to automatically run his thumb over the small scars on his hands, calming his racing heart as the dummy hit the wall again and again.
“She could be lying.” Natasha said, but her voice was empty of conviction.
“You believe her.” Tony said, his eyes still trained on Nat, watching her jaw twitch, as if she were fighting to keep her words down. “Don’t you?”
“I’m not sure. Everything she’s said, it’s so impossible… another universe , Tony? Do you believe it?”
Her words echoed through his mind, and his eyes left her, sitting back in his chair as he watched Raya lift her hands, her figure shattered slightly in a crack in the glass.
Did he believe it? One part of him didn’t; how could it be possible? How would it make sense?
The other part, a part he couldn’t quite call rational, reminded him that he had recently flown into a portal, carrying a nuke on his back after fighting an alien army. That the burns from Raya’s outburst at Nat were still singed into his infirmary walls. That he’d just spent the last several hours interrogating a God of Mischief, his brother watching over his shoulder, his impossibly heavy hammer resting on the table before them.
“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully, rubbing his wrists slowly as he considered it. “She has no idea who we are; if she was sent to kill us, this whole confused act has been going for too long.”
He glanced at her, wondering if he should continue to speak his mind, and she was watching him, her eyes crinkled in a soft sense of consideration, urging him to go on with a small nod of her head.
“She could’ve tried to attack anyone, and she chose Loki. After knowing what he’d done, how he’d destroyed the city. It was like she just didn’t care . As if she wasn’t afraid.”
Raya’s enraged expression, mirrored now as she slammed a dummy harshly into the wall, flashed through his mind, and his chest constricted in fear, just as it had when he’d met her red tinged eyes.
“She didn’t look scared. Loki did. The dickhead we were chasing for days, the ‘cold blooded killer’, he was shaking when she touched him.”
He swallowed hard, his leg bouncing slightly as he spoke, his eyes following Raya as she paused to catch her breath, tightening her ponytail with blood stained hands.
“I meant it, earlier. If he’s afraid, so am I. She’s…”
His voice trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud, almost afraid the woman behind the glass would hear him, but Nat finished his sentence quickly, her voice dull.
“Dangerous.”
Tony’s hand moved up to rub his chest as he let out a slow breath, and he looked to Nat again, her expression tightening slightly into a grim smile.
He tilted his head in silent question, and she sighed, her eyes flicking to the hand on his chest, causing him to pause in his movements.
“I’m glad you think the same.”
Tony let a smile pass over his lips for a moment, staring at her, then a incredulous laugh bubbled up from his throat as he considered the situation further.
Nat stared at him questioningly, and he shook his head slowly as he said,
“It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it, calling her dangerous.”
A smile played over Nat’s lips as she nodded, her eyes returning to the woman before them, shifting slightly as she tightened her arms around herself, and he took her agreement as a sign to continue.
“I mean, by everyone else’s standards, we are dangerous. Hell, I’ve got two gods wandering around my living room right now.” He said, glancing down at his watch for a moment.
There was a red light flickering in the top corner, and his throat suddenly ran dry as he remembered why he was here in the first place.
Shit.
“The world seems conflicted about us but Fury believes the Avengers Initiative should go ahead, become a real team.” Nat said, and Tony fidgeted with his watch as his eyes darted over to the door that lead into the arena before them. “I think he’s waiting for your say to let it go ahead; he’s read my report on your performance as a leader already.”
“Do you ever sleep, Romanoff?” He said, impressed against his better judgement, tapping the edge of his watch as the seconds echoed through his mind.
34, 33, 32-
Natasha simply shrugged, her eyes narrowing as they darted to his nervous movements, cutting off the next half of his retort.
“What’s going on with you?”
He sighed exasperatedly to himself as he glanced back to her, and his mouth moved quickly, his mind reeling.
“I might have made a decision without considering all the variables.”
21, 20, 19-
“What are you talking about?” Natasha said, but as his eyes darted over to Raya, her expression shifted and it seemed to click together in her mind. “Tell me you didn’t-“
It was like he could hear the footsteps as they approached the arena, and he met the Widow’s eyes guiltily, a sheepish smile playing over his face.
“I thought it would be funny-“
13, 12, 11-
“To get him killed?”
7, 6, 5-
The door to the arena was opening, and even though it was impossible, he felt as if the sound of the door knob turning was echoing through his mind, watching as Raya turned to face her visitor, her hands raised and bloody.
“Oops.”
The silence that gripped the four of them was deafening, and as Natasha’s eyes broke away from his, staring out at Loki and Raya, it was almost hilarious how confused the pair behind the glass looked at they stared at each other.
Without turning her head, Natasha spoke, and a smile played across his lips at her soft words.
“50 bucks says she kicks his ass.”
“Deal.”
*
Raya’s hands remained clenched, dropping slightly as she stared at Loki, her eyes widened with shock at the sight of him, and she was frozen, words stuck to the sides of her throat.
He wasn’t even wearing armour, just form fitting robes, and as she wiped blood from the side of her mouth, she remained perplexed, watching his lips part as if he were about to speak, but his head snapped around as the door behind him sealed itself shut.
She watched him try to turn the door handle, trying not to make it obvious how desperate he was to leave, and she just blinked as the door made a harsh sound, declining his attempts.
At the noise, he let out a harsh breath, giving up on the escape, and his eyes slowly moved to meet hers, determination shining in his gaze.
Loki’s hands began to rise slowly, his palms turned towards her in a placating gesture and she tilted her head to the side, her eyes flicking down to the destabiliser on his wrist.
No magic.
She nodded subtly, her stance shifting as she saw him tense up, watched his eyes dart to her bloody hands, and she flicked her fingers towards her gloves, inhaling deeply as the fabric wrapped around her wrists.
They had barely settled along her arms when he moved, and she sidestepped out of the way, her leg shooting out to catch on his shin, and his momentum sent him rolling across the ground, but he was on his feet in half a second, his eyes shining with something she couldn’t place.
She lunged at him, and his arm caught hers as she brought it down towards his head, but her other hand gripped his wrist, bending it backwards, ripping a pained sound from his throat as she pushed her body against his.
She forced him backwards, the white aluminium bending under his weight as he hit the wall, and her fist collided with the space his head had rested moments before as he quickly rolled out of the way.
His hand wrapped around her upper arm, pulling her to her knees, but her fingers dug harshly into his thigh and she forced her shoulder into his stomach as she pushed herself back to her feet, knocking the wind out of him.
As he fought for breath, he stumbled, but before she could sweep his feet out from under him, his fist collided with her face and she cried out as blood spurted from her nose, involuntary tears leaking from her eyes as she stepped back.
She wiped the blood under her nose quickly as a wild sense of adrenaline caused her lips to twitch, and she ducked under his next swing, her body shifting to follow the pattern of his movements as her palm connected with his cheek.
Raya raised her hands in front of her as she jumped back from him, watching him clutch his cheek, a groan forced harshly from him, and she was breathing heavily, her tongue shooting out to lick away the blood that spilled over her lips.
Loki’s eyes flicked up to meet hers, and she raised her chin in a challenge, her heart pounding hard against her chest, barely dodging his foot as it swiped past her stomach.
The movement caught her off balance, and his elbow forced itself into her chest, pain thrumming through her nerves as she dug her nails deep in into the skin of his wrist, her gloves hindering her slightly, a sharp breath escaping her as she heard him hiss in frustration.
Her hand went up to his hair, and she pulled on it roughly, sending his face into her raised knee, but his hands forced themselves against her waist, dragging her down to the floor with him, and she fought to escape his rough grip, even as his forearm tightened around her neck.
She threw her head back, and he cried out as her skull collided with his nose, a warm rush of blood running down her neck as she fought for breath, and she ripped his arm from around her throat as his other was thrown up into her face.
She spun in his arms, on her feet in half a second, her hand gripping his throat as she forced his body hard into the aluminium wall, the metal creaking as his hands flailed around, trying uselessly to grip at her as she lifted his feet from the ground and slammed him into the wall again.
Raya glared at him and found a flash of panic in his eyes as she tightened her grip around his neck, her gloved fingertips pushing hard enough into the flesh to leave bruises, and her breath was coming fast as the world seemed to slow.
Stabbing pains in his ribs, a sharp blow to the skull, the glance of a ice blue eye, narrowed with disdain-
His hands were forcing themselves against her chin, pushing her head to the side, but his memories continued to assault her, their sides blurred, sharpened by guilt as they cut into her mind.
A sceptre, shining brightly with blue, his head spinning as he collapsed to the floor, pacing a see through room, pacing, pacing, thinking too many thoughts as his heart thudded in his ears-
“He will make you long for something sweet as pain!”
Anger met confusion, her certainty slipping as the memories flashed through her mind, and she faltered, her grip loosening slightly as he writhed in her hand, her heart hammering hard against her chest.
Loki grunted loudly as he kicked out at her, and his feet slammed into her stomach, causing her to bend in the middle, her legs buckling under her, and his knee was thrown harshly into her face, her hands scrabbling at the ground as her eyes squeezed shut against the pain.
His fingers were digging into her shirt, and Raya threw her arm up around his neck, pulling down hard, the sound of crunching bones filling her ears as he tried to escape her hold, his face pressed into her shoulder as she blinked to clear the tears from her eyes.
His hands were ripping at the fabric around her hips as they spun back into the wall, and she cried out as he forced her head into the aluminium, her vision blurring as her skull ached.
They struggled for a moment, his hand now gripping the back of her neck tightly as he pushed her into the wall, her arms wrapped around his head, before she used her legs to push them both back from the wall.
He hit the ground first, groaning as his grip loosened on her, and she spat blood into his face as she rolled away from him, wiping her mouth as she forced breath into her tightening lungs, spots of crimson staining her gloves as they moved to dig into the floor.
Their heavy breaths echoed through the quiet room, and Raya kept her eyes fixed on Loki as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, noting the way his fingers flexed around his forearm as blood began to seep through the emerald fabric, the way he tossed back his hair as it fell around his face, the way his eyes glinted dangerously.
Jaw, hand, cut, disorient-
They moved in sync, their bodies meeting in a tangled mess of adrenaline, and the momentum sent them rolling across the floor, Loki’s arms pressed around her as her gloved hand swiped at his face, catching him across the jaw.
Her head was spinning as his fist began to hammer into her sides, and she ripped his arms off her, her head cracking on his chin as she dug her feet into the floor, a sharp breath escaping her as her fingers pressed harshly into his face.
Her free hand dragged over a shattered spike of wood, and she wrapped her hand around it, bringing down the broken piece of equipment to smash into his forehead, causing him to cry out.
She climbed on top of him, almost choking on the blood that had slipped between her lips, and she tossed the wood to the side as her hands gripped his wrists tightly, keeping them frozen in place.
Loki’s bright eyes found hers, tears shimmering in them as he struggled beneath her, and a thrill of triumph zipped through her as she studied his blood spattered face.
She’d never seen eyes like that before.
Such a strange shade of green.
His chest was heaving, but his movements began to slow as he looked at her, a flash of something like confidence moving through his gaze before he said,
“Are we alright now?”
Raya watched an irritating smirk slip onto his lips, and she rolled her eyes, dropping his wrists and pushing down hard on his ribs as she went to stand, causing him to groan in pain.
“We are not worse.” She said calmly, wiping her bloody glove on her shirt before offering it to him, her eyes narrowing slightly as he flinched away from it.
Disbelief and confusion seemed to war behind his eyes as he stared at her hand, and she waited for him to take it, unsure why he was hesitating.
After yet another moment of contemplation, his hand reached up to grip hers tightly, and she pulled him easily to his feet, wincing slightly as her shoulder twinged at the motion.
A second passed as she looked into his eyes, and she nodded as she dropped his hand, letting it fall to his side, and she saw the relief briefly flit across his features before the cocky smirk returned.
“You fight well.” She said simply, stepping back from him as he wiped his face, clearing her blood from his pale skin, and her eyes followed the movement with interest.
A laugh left him, his voice lilting up slightly as his neck cracked, but when he met her eyes, his lips parted to speak, he seemed to catch himself, running the retort through his mind.
She watched him curiously, flexing her hand to snap the bones as she waited for him to speak.
It only now crossed her mind that perhaps it was not customary to offer words of praise after a good fight, and that confused her; he had held his own and performed well, why was he looking at her as if she’d said something unusual?
“As do you.” Loki said, his voice light, and she nodded, rubbing her wrists as she continued to examine him, his figure now illuminated in the brightness of electric lights instead of shrouded in shadows.
“I know.”
There was a crackling noise from above them, and she looked up, her body tensing instantly as she searched for the source of the sound, and Tony’s voice echoed through the room, his words slurring slightly.
“For fucks sake, you’d think that cocky son of a bitch would know how to win a fight-“
Her eyes darted over to Loki, and his expression shifted into one of offence as Natasha’s voice followed, letting out an exasperated sigh before she said,
“Tony, they can hear you now- your hand, it’s on the button for the mic-“
Raya tilted her head in confusion, still searching for the source of the noise as Loki’s gaze dropped to the reflective surface in front of them.
Behind it, Tony sat frozen as Nat stifled a laugh, her hand fishing through his wallet for her $50 as she stood up.
“Good luck with that .” She said, her words trembling as more laughter slipped from between her lips, and she swiftly stepped towards the door, her eyes glancing at the two in the arena before she disappeared, leaving Tony to deal with the mess he created.
Loki advanced on the opaque wall, and Raya followed his steps slowly as he began to angrily hit the wall with his fist.
“Let us out, Stark!” He yelled, and Raya squinted at the surface, confused.
The door made a slight clicking noise as the lock released, and Loki hurriedly walked towards the door, agitatedly glancing over his shoulder at her, almost as if he were waiting for her to follow him, but then he threw up his hands irritably and stormed from the room, leaving her quite wrong footed.
Raya stared at the wall for a moment before her eyes flicked back over to the open door, and she wiped her hands over the fabric of her body suit as she walked towards it, warmth spreading through her as the blood soaked into it.
She let out a soft breath of relief at the sensation, but before she could move from the doorway, a sound caught her attention and she tensed, listening intently as she glanced down the hall.
Fast footsteps were echoing through the hallway, and she instinctively hid herself behind the doorframe as her eyes followed the men walking past, her heartbeat spiking.
A black man with an eyepatch over his left eye was leading the group, his face fixed in a grim expression, a woman with a scar along her cheek talking authoritatively into an earpiece, and Raya remained motionless as they passed her, their armed escort sending her sharp looks as their hands tightened around their guns.
She waited for them to disappear before taking a step out of the doorway, the weight of the destabiliser on her wrist seeming to increase as she stared after the group.
By no means did they look welcoming, and she felt uneasy as she began walking in the opposite direction, digging her nails harshly into her arm, cutting through the skin.
Would those people mark the end of the Avenger’s hospitality?
The thought echoed around her mind as she licked up her wrist, her own blood pooling on her tongue, and she swallowed hard, her stomach aching slightly.
She sucked in a deep breath as she pressed the button for the elevator, flinching at the dinging sound it made as it descended towards her, not easing her discomfort.
If they wanted to take her, would she even have a choice? She didn’t remember ever being able to say no, and she didn’t know why it would be any different here.
She tightened her grip around her shoulders as she stepped into the elevator the moment the door opened, her breaths becoming slightly shorter.
“The insolence of no divines you for punishment, child.”
She swallowed hard to push back her mother’s words as they threatened to overwhelm her, her hand tightening around her necklace for comfort.
“This time, there will be nowhere for you to run.”
Chapter 4: I’ll Look After You
Summary:
heyyyyy what’s up guys, another update, and im starting to think these chapters are gonna stay around the 5,000 mark… school and life consume me.
Anyway, this chapter is exploring more characters, more dynamics, more vibes, so i hope you enjoy!
as always, for drea, and for my ao3 mother (she knows who she is) cause her comment about wanting to see more or this fic made me smile for a whole day.
Chapter Text
Stark Tower, New York City.
12:17pm, May 7th, 2012.
Nat tapped her fingers on the table as Nick Fury paced before her, Maria standing at her side, her expression stony.
All traces of her previous hilarity were gone; watching Raya win almost too easily against Loki had been fun while it lasted, but now her stomach was turning over as she remembered it, the $50 note seeming to burn a hole in her pocket.
Tony was arguing with Fury, stepping back as he rubbed his chest, and she zoned back into the conversation, forcing herself to remove the empty look in Raya’s eyes from her mind.
It is impossible.
“I’m not sure I trust your judgment anymore- how many more gods do you have hidden in your tower?”
“As far as anyone else is concerned, Loki returned to Asgard, that is all that matters-“
“You know damn well that’s not who I’m talking about, Stark.”
Nat glanced up at Maria, and the woman sighed, her hands resting on the back of her chair as her shoulders remained tense, and the sound of the two men arguing slipped to the back of her mind as her eyes lingered on the gash along Maria’s face.
She didn’t ask whether she was alright; that wasn’t how they did it, and really, none of them were alright, so it was redundant anyway.
“Any leads on the Tesseract?” She asked softly, gently moving her hand up onto Maria’s forearm in a silent gesture of comfort, and she shook her head, her jaw set.
“The signature is too weak for us to trace again-“ Maria’s eyes moved over to the corner of the room where Bruce was leaning against the wall, and Nat followed her gaze. “We were hoping Dr Banner would be able to guide us, but… there seems to be a need for discussion before that happens.”
Nat smiled slightly at the strained tone that tainted Maria’s last words, and she let a soft breath leave her lips as she tuned back into the conversation before them.
“It’s because of her that the Tesseract has suddenly disappeared, and you think that’s unrelated to Loki?”
“Raya has no idea who any of us are, Fury. Let me play you the tapes, the only person she has had any real hostility for has been Loki- how could they be working together?”
“Clearly, you’ve never been undercover.”
Tony scoffed at this retort, lifting his hands as if that would push the words away from him, but Fury didn’t stop, continuing his onslaught of words, and Maria groaned in irritation.
Natasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she ran her hand through her hair, closing her eyes against the headache she could feel building, her mind aching as red light zipped around behind her eyelids.
The pad in front of her beeped, and she glanced down to see a message from Clint, panic shooting through her before her eyes settled on the words.
‘Safe for me to check on the star?’
She could feel Maria peering over her shoulder as she quickly typed her reply, a small smile flitting across her face, and she leant forwards to hide the words from the spy’s gaze.
‘Should be. Keep your guard up.’
The answer came almost too quickly, and she glanced briefly up at the two men angrily gesturing in front of her before scanning the message.
‘I’ve just seen Loki. Please tell me you recorded the fight.’
‘Of course I did. Arena cameras were working perfectly.’
“You had two gods fight?” Maria said in her ear, keeping her voice low, and Nat swiped the messages away, sighing quietly as she looked up at her, her only answer a slight smirk. “Whose idea was that?”
Nat tilted her head towards Tony and Maria rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she muttered,
“Right, should’ve known.”
Nat forced herself to refocus on the argument before her, and her head snapped up harshly as she heard Tony yell,
“You can’t take her!”
Her eyes darted to Fury’s expression, anger etched into the lines on his face as he leant against the edge of the table, and she moved to stand as Banner took a step forwards.
“S.H.I.E.L.D has more than enough jurisdiction to detain-“ Fury started, but this time it was Natasha that cut him off, her nails digging slightly into the surface of the table.
“It isn’t a matter of whether we have jurisdiction, Director. Raya will not go willingly, and it will put more people in danger to try and take her from the only place she is beginning to feel safe.”
Her words filled the room, and she could feel Bruce’s eyes on her as she spoke, dread causing her skin to prickle as she held Fury’s gaze determinedly.
“Raya has only hurt a common enemy so far, she hasn’t-“ Tony said quickly, but his next words were swallowed as Bruce spoke up.
“And Natasha.” He said, his voice cool, and Nat flexed her bandaged hand, rubbing her fingers over the covered burn mark irritably. “She’s proven she can bypass the destabiliser’s blockers; blockers that were designed for the closest thing we know to be a god.”
At the prospect of gaining an ally, Nick straightened up, opening his mouth as if he were about to speak, but Bruce continued, turning his eyes to Nat.
“Can you be sure she isn’t inside your head? That she isn’t influencing your words?”
Her eyelid twitched, but Nat kept her expression calm, crossing her arms as she said, her voice unwavering,
“I am fully aware of what it feels like to be under someone else’s control, Banner, and I can assure you with the greatest certainty that she has no power over me.”
Her tone was edged with a challenge, and a tense silence fell around them as she stared into his eyes, refusing to be the first to look away.
Bruce’s jaw was set as he broke their eye contact, and Natasha caught the smile that flitted across Tony’s face as she turned her attention back to Fury.
“Raya is safest here. Stark has the most advanced security systems in the world, and I believe we are more than capable of containing her.”
A lie. She had no inkling of how she would even go about stopping Raya if she tried to escape; their only saving grace seemed to be that the goddess didn’t really want to leave.
She didn’t blame her; from what she’d told them about what was waiting back home, Natasha would’ve been surprised if she was in any rush to return.
Perhaps it was apart of a god’s burden to have terrible familial issues.
“She is a danger to this city.” Fury said, his voice authoritative, but Nat held her ground, simply waiting for him to continue. “Not only do you have no idea what she is capable of, but her very appearance coincides with the disappearance of one of the most powerful sources of energy we have ever seen.”
Tony moved closer to Nat, and she knew the question that was resting on his lips, already being answered by Fury as he pulled a usb from his pocket.
“The Tesseract is still missing, and we have no leads on its whereabouts. However, our agents found something else; something that just so happens to have appeared only hours after your newest friend arrived.”
As he plugged the device into the computer before him, a file appeared on the screen, and she heard Tony clear his throat in disgust as the pictures popped up, but she remained still, her heart echoing loudly in her ears.
Body parts, bloodied skin and torn flesh resting in the dirt of a garden, ripped fabric of a farmer’s shirt caught on a fence in the background, lifeless blue eyes, forever staring mindlessly into space-
She blinked, swallowing hard in an attempt to force down the revulsion burning like bile in the back of her throat, keeping her eyes focused on the pictures as Fury continued to speak.
“We have very specific reasons to believe whatever caused this is searching for Raya .” Her name was uttered in an irritated tone, and Nat bristled slightly at the implication behind it, but she did not speak up as he flicked to the next picture.
A woman’s back, her back stained with blood as her spine protruded from her flesh, and along her shoulder, dug into her skin, was the word:
Raya.
There were slices through her name, creating a star in the dead woman’s flesh, and as Tony stepped back, his eyes squeezed shut, Nat leaned closer, studying the mark closely.
She’d seen bodies marked after death before; she’d known several Widows that had left their own symbols etched into the skin of their victims.
For them, it had been the only outward expression of their singular identity. It had been a reminder that even though they were running mindlessly through the drills, even though their hands worked over bodies writhing in death throes, even though their eyes glazed over with a dull sense of pride at each kill, that they were still there , a part of them surviving through the torture.
She let out a soft breath, listening as the door opened and shut behind her, Tony’s huff of exasperation notifying her that Steve had entered the room.
The Captain’s voice filled the space, and Fury’s replied quickly, but there words were simply a blur in her mind as her thoughts ran over each other before they finally hooked onto a memory from a few days ago.
A magazine article she’d only glanced at, the headline bold and beckoning for more of her attention.
‘Crimson Star Spotted Over NYC.’
Raya’s arrival. The Tesseract’s disappearance. The star in the sky, her portal captured by some civilian’s fast moving camera even in the midst of a tragedy. The star marks left by something , something that knew the girl’s name.
All of it was connected, but why? Her mother tossing her into the abyss of space. Drawn to the Tesseract’s energy. The magic, the magic, the burning, searing magic of a chaos goddess from another universe, it was all so fucking confusing-
She stepped away, running her fingers through her hair as she sighed, moving back to her chair, giving Maria a nod as she allowed her to pass.
“We are trying to trace whatever it was that did this; we have agents in neighbouring towns and cities searching for anything unusual.” Fury said, his voice edged with anger, and as she looked over at him, she found his eyes on her already. “I have my entire department spread across the country on wild goose chases, while the mighty Avengers sit idly by, twiddling their thumbs!”
“What would you have us do, Nick?” Tony challenged, stepping forwards, his hand trembling slightly. “We are trying to recuperate, and we’ve had issue after issue thrown on top of us. We haven’t had a chance to even regroup, we’ve been trying to fix the mess here-“
Tony’s voice was strained, and she kept her gaze trained on him as he rubbed his chest, taking in a deep breath as his words caught in his throat.
“He’s right. The city took precedence over everything else, Director, and as long as the other potential problems were contained, we were able push them to the back of our minds.” She spoke up as Tony faltered, and he gripped the table top with one hand, sending her a grateful look as she finished his point. “Your failure to inform us of this was not our fault.”
Fury’s brow furrowed at the slight jab, yet she kept her expression cordial as she looked up at him, waiting for him to speak, but instead, Steve’s voice met her ears as he addressed Fury.
“However, now that we know, we will do whatever we can to aid you, Director.”
Nat hid a smile as Tony rolled his eyes behind the Captain’s back, returning her eyes to the pad in front of her as the screen glowed, ignoring the chatter of the men before her as she read the message from Clint.
Just found out something that’s going to kill you. I can’t breathe, holy shit, she’s got no idea.
She couldn’t force away her smile this time, and she typed a quick reply, catching the smirk on Maria’s face as she looked up, but she didn’t address it, letting her expression remain soft as she forced herself to return to the conversation.
Can’t wait for the debrief, Barton.
*
Stark Tower, New York City.
12:35pm, May 7th, 2012.
The smell of blood was one he was used to.
The metallic scent that stuck to far too many of his arrows, the one that followed him through a hundred nightmares, that pressed like a knife against his heart each time he inhaled.
Clint glanced around the corner, and his eyes caught on Raya as she lifted her palm to her lips, blood running down her chin as she closed her eyes.
Disgust and sympathy made a confusing concoction in his stomach as he stepped into the light, and at his subtle movement, Raya’s eyes snapped open, immediately fixing on him as she dropped her wrist from her lips.
Clint’s hands were wrapped around a warm bowl, and he lifted it slightly in hope of calming her. He watched as she shifted nervously on the bedside, her body still tense, but she didn’t speak, so he began to approach her slowly.
“Hey.” He said, his voice softened, and her eyes narrowed slightly as they darted from the bowl in his hands to his face.
“Hawkeye.” Raya said, a statement more than anything, her voice slightly strained, and his eyes drifted over the faint bruises that were blossoming along the column of her throat. “Clint… Barton.”
He nodded, and she took in a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing.
“Natasha’s friend.” She continued, her eyes glued to him as he edged closer, and Clint’s eyes widened slightly at the connection, the sentiment causing his lips to turn up into a smile.
“That’s right.” He said calmly, placing the bowl on the bedside table, and her eyes followed him curiously. “I came to see if you were hungry.”
She fixed him with a confused stare, though he wasn’t quite sure why, and now his eyes roamed her face as she wiped blood from her nose.
She didn’t seem affected by the bruises along her skin, or by the smears of crimson that decorated her face, and as her neck cracked loudly, she didn’t make a sound, even as Clint winced in sympathy.
“I heard about your fight with Loki.” He said, watching as she leaned slightly towards the bowl on the bedside table, sniffing at the food before turning her eyes back to him, and he continued to ease her nerves. “That’s porridge- You probably don’t know what that is, but it’s good.”
Raya touched the bowl, and he saw her lips twitch slightly as she lifted it onto the bed, swirling the food around with the spoon slowly as she studied it closely.
“It’s warm.” She said, and her tone was lighter as she glanced up at him, her grip on the sides tightening. “I like that it’s warm.”
Clint couldn’t stop his smile as it spread across his face, and he moved to take a seat on the very edge of the bed, feeling her eyes on him the entire way.
She didn’t protest or flinch away, so he turned towards her, letting his legs rest on the soft fabric of the blanket under them.
Raya swirled the spoon around the bowl once again, tapping it against the ceramic before she lifted it into the air, but instead of eating it, she pointed the spoon full of oats towards him, gesturing for him to take it.
“It’s for you.” Clint said, slightly confused, and her expression tightened, the brief flicker of hope in her eyes replaced with distrust.
It took a few seconds for it to click in his mind, and he immediately reached out to take the spoon, lifting it to his lips and swallowing the small amount easily.
He smiled at her, and Raya stared at him, almost as if she were waiting for something, but after a few moments passed in complete silence, she let out a soft breath and dipped the spoon back into the porridge, relaxing again.
“Loki and I did have a fight.” She confirmed, apparently unfazed as she stared at the porridge on her spoon, and his eyes passed over her bloodstained gloves, nodding along with her words. “It was fine. He is a good fighter. I hope we can try again when I am not so tired.”
Clint’s eyes snapped up to her face, but she was too busy tasting her food to notice the flicker of incredulity that passed over his face.
“You want- You want to fight him again?” He said, trying to keep the disbelief out of his voice, his lips curling up slightly as he watched her eyes light up, swallowing her first bite hungrily.
Raya’s head tilted to the side as she considered his words, and he pulled his legs closer around him as he waited for her reply.
“Of course I do. While the play fight was enjoyable, I know he was not at his best, and neither was I. Perhaps when he has his weapons…” Her voice trailed off as she scooped more of her porridge onto her spoon, and Clint had to stifle the laughter that was ripped from his throat with the palm of his hand.
“So… you weren’t trying to hurt him?” He asked, his fingers finding his phone and fishing it out of his pocket.
Raya looked concerned at his words, and she straightened up slightly, her brow furrowing as she rested the bowl on her knee.
“Why would I try and hurt him? He was apologising.” She said, and the confusion was so clear in her expression that Clint felt something ache inside his chest.
He barely looked down as he typed his message to Nat, and he turned his phone over once he was done, leaning towards her slightly as she eyed him, seeming almost troubled by the revelation.
“Can you please explain what you mean by that?” He said calmly, and she blinked as she lifted her spoon to her lips yet again. “On Earth, we don’t really apologise by… fighting. That’s how arguments start, not how they end.”
Raya stared at him, and he could practically see her mind whirring, trying to figure out what he meant, but he stayed quiet.
“I don’t… understand.” She said after a few moments of silence, her hands shifting on the sides of the bowl as her brows furrowed. “How else… what else is there?”
The ache in Clint’s chest only grew as her eyes darted around his face, attempting to draw answers from his expression and he sighed softly, trying to figure out a way to explain it in a way she would understand.
His eyes fell to the destabiliser on her wrist, and the idea struck him quickly.
“I could show you, rather than trying to explain it.” He said, holding out his palm towards her, and he didn’t miss the way her face twitched at the movement.
Raya placed the bowl back on her knee, flexing her fingers in a practiced movement as her gloved hand moved to hover inches from his.
“This may hurt, I have never really attempted this on… mortals before.” Raya said, and Clint fought to keep his face empty of concern.
Maybe this was a very bad idea, but he was too deep in it now.
“Consider me the guinea pig then.” He said, but when Raya tilted her head to the side in confusion, he added, “The experiment?”
She nodded in understanding, and red light began to flicker around her fingers, a whisper of pain escaping her lips as the destabiliser shocked her again.
Clint forced himself to keep still, trying to ignore the urge to tell her he could remove the piece of equipment, because it was for their safety.
She wasn’t safe.
That doesn’t mean she deserves to be in pain.
He blinked away the thought, and found her staring at him, her breathing becoming shallower as the red strands of light moved closer to his skin.
“How does this work? Do I have to think about the memory I want to show you, or will you be able to find it?” He asked, and something seemed to lift the features of Raya’s face just for a moment.
“If you could narrow it down for me, it will be easier to see.” She said calmly, her hand trembling slightly as small shocks continue to go through her arm.
Clint nodded, and held her gaze stoically, trying to let the memory fall easily to the forefront of his mind.
The red strands of light stung as they met his skin, and a harsh sensation of heat began to crawl up his arm, rushing up towards his head, but he stayed as still as he could, breathing slowly to disperse the pain.
Raya hissed through her teeth, and a flash of worry shot through him, but she shook her head quickly to reassure him.
“I may have underestimated how tired I am.” She said, and he was shocked to see a smile beginning to turn up the corners of her mouth. “Fighting Loki was taxing.”
Clint chuckled softly, trying to keep his composure as the red light melded with his skin slowly, and he rolled his eyes as his head nodded slightly.
“Tell me about it.”
His words came out in a whisper as a red haze descended over his eyes, and then he was free falling into a swirling abyss of crimson light, his lungs constricting tightly as he tumbled through the air.
“I’m sorry, Natasha.”
His voice hung in the air, edged with guilt, dulled with remorse, and he was staring at the woman before him with saddened eyes.
“We couldn’t find him. He’s too far gone.”
His clothes were dripping from the rain, but he didn’t care. His chest was aching as Nat’s sobs began to wrack her body, and he ran forwards immediately to catch her in his arms.
“I’m so sorry… Nat, please-“
The woman was clutching him tightly, tears burning into the skin of his neck as she cried out loudly, barely able to speak as her body trembled so violently he felt she might fall apart.
He gripped her tightly, his arms wrapped around her as his own tears shimmered in his eyes, listening to her anguished screams, his heart tearing apart as hers did.
“We tried. I promise, we tried. I’m sorry.”
He was still falling, his head spinning wildly, and the red light was enveloping all of his senses, burning, god, it was burning-
He saw faces flashing past his eyes, all crimson mirages of shock, fear, panic, pain, hatred, whipping past his face too quickly for him to place them, and the burning was getting worse-
A heavy weight in the palm of his hand.
Clint blinked as he was ripped back from the furthest reaches of his consciousness, and he saw Raya sitting forwards, her expression betraying her terror, and as he looked down, he saw her fingers pressed to his skin.
Her gloves, they were not soft as he’d thought, rather they felt as if they were made of metal, cool and hardened steel, but before he could consider it further, she ripped her hand away from his, and he realised she was breathing quite heavily.
“Are you-“ Her hands were hovering halfway in the air, as if she didn’t know what to do with them, and her dark eyes were wide with fear as they darted around his face. “I didn’t know- Mortals, they are different, I haven’t-“
Clint sat up slightly, pressing his palm to his forehead as he squeezed his eyes shut, and his head ached slightly as red light flickered through behind his eyelids, but nothing else followed.
“I shouldn’t have-“ He looked up at Raya, and her eyes were no longer on his face, they were now fixed on the palm of his hand, searching desperately for something, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to touch you, it was the only way I could-“
“Raya.” He said firmly, his voice still soft, but he could see her unravelling before him, and he couldn’t have her panic any further.
She had curled in on herself, her body moving to press against the headboard of the bed to get away from him, and she winced as the destabiliser sent another shock through her arm, her chest heaving.
“Hey, it’s okay, look, I’m fine.” Clint said calmly, but he didn’t dare move closer as he lifted his hand to show her his burn-free hand. “You didn’t hurt me.”
He stared at her, and suddenly it was as if he was watching her skin change under his eyes, and his mouth opened slightly in shock.
The bruises on her neck were rapidly getting darker, and a thin white scar ran over her top lip, a ripple of red light revealing a small scattering of scratches cut into her face, following the line of her jaw.
An angry red line was sliced into the curve of her neck, disappearing down beneath her bodysuit, and as she met his gaze with resigned eyes, he straightened up, unable to stop the sympathy that flitted across his expression.
“Do it.” Raya whispered, and her voice was tired as she held her palms up to him, her eyes dropping from his to face the blankets.
Clint only blinked as she bowed her head, confused on why her body was tensing, why she was offering him her hands, why her voice shook as if she were expecting-
Oh.
“Raya, I’m not going to hit you.” He said, and he fought against the urge to reach out and comfort her. “I’m- No one here is going to hit you, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m fine.”
She glanced up at him, her eyes darkened with disbelief, but when he remained still, waiting, she closed her hands, her fingers trembling slightly.
“Why not?” She asked, and her tone was genuinely curious, something that made Clint’s heart shatter, but he rushed to answer her, to reassure her.
“We don’t hurt people without a reason.” He said calmly, and he let out a deep breath as her eyes automatically followed his hands, her grip on the side of the bed unrelenting. “If we mess up, we say sorry.”
Raya groaned as another shock ripped up her arm, and the scrape along her cheek that looked strangely like fingernails began to bleed, but he didn’t say anything about it.
One thing at a time.
“Like in your memory.” She said slowly, and he nodded, giving her what he hoped was a comforting smile as he sat slightly forwards. “Natasha was crying. Did you hurt her?”
There was no real concern evident in her words, rather an almost dull sense of intrigue, and as uncomfortable as it made him, he chose to ignore it.
“No, I didn’t hurt her.” Clint let out a rough sigh, the memory of that night flickering to life behind his eyes. “She had just lost someone close to her, and I was supposed to help bring them back.”
He could feel Raya’s eyes on him, heard the soft hiss of the destabiliser, but he kept his gaze fixed on his hands as he remembered the feeling of holding a broken Natasha in his arms, the guilt so overwhelming fierce that he could barely breathe.
“The solider.” Raya said calmly, and immediately his chest tightened, his head snapping up to look towards her.
“How did you-“ Clint started, but Raya only shrugged, rubbing her hand over her neck as the scar along her skin reddened slightly.
“I saw it when she touched me. When I burnt her.” She continued, looking up to meet his eyes.
Clint wasn’t sure if he was imagining the regret that tinted the edges of her words.
“A solider looking at her, and her smile.“ She stared at him for a few moments before she added, “He looks different now.”
Clint’s eyes widened, but Raya has dropped his gaze, taking a deep breath as the destabiliser finally stopped zapping her, her body relaxing as she calmed down.
“You’ve met… him?” He asked, his mind reeling with confusion.
The scar on Raya’s lip was growing, more of it extending up towards her cheek, and his eyes narrowed as he watched it.
He briefly wondered why she had been hiding the wounds from them, but it only took a moment for him to piece it together.
She doesn’t show her weaknesses.
“Steve is a soldier.” Raya said, her voice soft, and she sounded unsure as she fidgeted with her gloves, turning her gaze back onto him. “I thought it was him but… he looks different.”
Clint watched her stare straight down for a few moments, her expression very serious, and the amount of contemplation she was giving this caused his smile to slowly return.
Now, she didn’t seem intimidating. Not when her eyes were shining with the remnants of unshed tears. Not when she was sniffling, her hands resting in her lap, still tensed as if she were preparing for a fight.
Now, it made sense to him. She never stopped.
She was always preparing for a fight.
“It wasn’t Steve.” Clint said, and Raya looked up at him, her eyes fluttering slightly as she rubbed her face tiredly. “Look, it’s nothing for you to worry about. Nat told me you haven’t slept in days, and you need rest.”
Raya regarded him apprehensively, shifting slightly in the bed, and he continued to fill the absence of her words.
“You can stay here. The infirmary is just as safe as your bedroom, I promise.”
She swallowed, considering his proposition, and for a few seconds, she nodded, moving to recline in the bed, and Clint got easily to his feet, placing the half eaten bowl of porridge on the bedside table.
He paused, watching as her eyes darted around the room, each blink becoming slightly slower, waiting for her to speak the thoughts that were so clearly on her mind.
“Thank you for… explaining.” She said finally, letting out a shaky breath, and Clint smiled at her, patting an empty space of the bed in an attempt to reassure her.
“Anytime, kid.” He said without thinking, and it was only when she tilted her head on confusion that it clicked in his head. “Sorry- force of habit.”
Slowly, her lips perked up into a half smile, and she said, her voice uncertain,
“It is okay. I am aware I do not look my age, by human standards. Some of you seem… exceptionally fragile.”
Her tone was not condescending, very different from when Loki had spoken about them. Rather than saddened or repulsed, Raya seemed intrigued, merely speaking the thoughts as they crossed her mind.
A refreshing sort of honesty, if he was being truthful.
He returned her smile, but as he went to turn away, she sat up slightly, the barest hint of fear marring her tired features.
“Can you put those metal bands on me before you leave?” She said quickly, and Clint’s brows furrowed as he glanced at the several sets of handcuffs still resting on the bench, unused after her last visit to this room.
“Why?” He asked, even as he moved towards them, watching her for a reaction as he unlocked a pair.
As she grew more tired, her breathing seemed to quicken rather than slow, and her words tumbled loosely from her mouth as she stared at him.
“I don’t want to get out.”
Those six words followed him as he left the room, and he was unable to shake the genuinely fearful tone they’d been spoken in from his mind as he stepped outside, glancing over his shoulder at the woman he’d left lying on the bed.
She was trembling, her chest moving up and down much too fast, and every time her eyelids fluttered closed, her hands gripped the metal sides of the bed tightly, the handcuffs clinking with her restricted movements.
As guilty as it made him feel, he locked the door to the infirmary behind him, his heart hammering loudly in his ears and he wondered just how difficult it would be to contain her if she really wanted to get out.
He hoped he’d never get a chance to find out.
*
Chapter 5: I Fell In Love With A War.
Summary:
heyyyy, what's up guys, its me, fighting for my life with some of my last pieces of assessment due tomorrow morning. I'm exhausted, and school has been a lot, but I'd suddenly gotten alot of inspo for this fic so guess who's back again.
Anyway, hope you enjoy, a slightly longer one because I am advancing the plot???? shocking, I know. Thank you so much for your kudos, comments and bookmarks, it means the world to me <3.
ps formatting will probably look different bc im on my computer this time lmao sorry in advance.
so late at night, no beta hardcore, im so tired.
chp title from A Pearl - Mitski.
Chapter Text
Stark Tower, New York City.
4:42pm, May 7th, 2012.
Cracked skies and mouths bleeding vicious lies.
“Consume the writhing daughter, consume her soul and consequent heart.”
Her face was burning, burning more than usual as the flames licked at her skin, and she pulled at the restraints around her wrists, but she couldn’t get free.
“No one can touch her. No one is safe from her rage.”
Rage. So much rage. Anger, betrayal, pain, and madness.
“A dangerous slight on the world. May her flesh curl and burn and fade, may her screams convey our divine purpose.”
Raya was screaming, so much screaming, her throat was searing, blood spilling out over her lips as the flames ran along her body, and she was fighting but hands were holding her down.
Hands that burnt.
“Your very touch is a danger! Do you not see what you have done?”
Sister. Sister, a withered, blackened body of ash. Her face frozen in shock, caught unawares by the blaze when the light left her eyes.
“You are a disease, you only live to hurt, you burn everything in your path!”
A hand on her face, her mother, her crown shining as her skin blistered, her flesh peeling in from her face as the flames rose higher around them.
“Finally, I am proud. Burn in your sins, my sweet princess.”
Sharpened claws in her jaw, fingers made of fire, and her screams filled the air, intertwined with her mother’s maniacal laughter.
“My greatest solider.”
*
Loki wove his fingers through his hair, sighing in relief as the scrapes along his jaw slowly began to heal over, the strands of his magic flickering along his skin.
His face was still twisted in irritation, unable to erase Clint’s teasing smirk as he’d walked past him from his mind, confused on the reasons why, but he tried to brush it off.
No doubt the Hawk was still fixated on that small bout of mind control and would do anything to annoy him.
A movement to his right, warmth caressing his cheek.
Loki’s head snapped around, but his eyes found nothing but the empty hallway, cold, unyielding metal reaching upwards, electric lights painting the walls in terrible brightness.
He peered down the hall, his hand raised to his face, fingers pressing lightly on the spot where the warmth had blossomed, but still, there was nothing.
He blinked, confused, but simply shook his head, rubbing the place on his jaw where Raya had hit him as he continued forwards.
Raya…
Loki did not understand how he felt about the woman now. He knew he should be angry, that he should want to kill her, — just as she so clearly wanted to kill him — but something felt… different.
She had helped him off the ground.
That was the moment from the fight that had stuck with him, other than the absolute certainty that she would break his neck, yet another thing she hadn’t done.
Not even his softhearted brother had offered him his hand after their sparring matches; given that they were often initiated as some sort of ploy, he understood why, but he couldn’t understand this.
“You fight well.”
The compliment had been echoing inside his mind all afternoon, coming back to him as his wiped blood from his face, as he pressed ice to blooming bruises.
Why had she said it? Why hadn’t she killed him?
He didn’t believe she was sincere. She couldn’t have been. Most likely, it was a taunt, a jab meant to undermine him for losing, because he had lost.
Loki could admit that to himself, if not to others. She had won, but he had held his own, for a while at least. He hadn’t lost completely.
A faint scream met his ears, and as he tilted his head towards the sound, the clinking of metal followed, a thrashing body, another scream-
The Avengers were all in a meeting, something Thor had warded him off from as soon as Fury had arrived. There was only one other person in the building, and he wasn’t sure she would appreciate his company, especially when she was screaming like that.
He sighed, rubbing his arm, his fingers brushing over the cloth to calm himself as he continued down the hall, his feet moving faster than they should’ve been.
Curiosity. He told himself over and over as he grew closer to the source of the screams. Mere curiosity.
An eerie silence fell as he approached another doorway, and his eyes passed over the words imprinted on the glass door.
Infirmary.
His gaze shifted, and then he could see her, twisted limbs and messed up hair, a heaving chest and clenched fists.
Raya was straining against the binds around her wrists, but her eyes were still tightly closed, and Loki’s mind was full of too many questions once again.
He assumed the team of heroes had allowed her to be free, like he was. Why was she once again restrained?
His hand hovered over the door handle, watching as she writhed in the bed, and as he studied her, he caught the slight shimmer of a tear as it rolled down her face.
The screaming started again, and his heart clenched at the disturbing sound.
She didn’t sound like the mortals, their screams were… intoxicating. Hers caused his body to tense in a primal sense of fear, and they didn’t match her face, didn’t match the way she spoke.
They were too rough. Her voice was softer than that.
Glancing left and right, his grip tightened on the door handle before he took in a deep breath, closing his eyes as he listened to her screaming.
It wasn’t hard. The projections fashioned themselves now, years of practice turning a once complex spell into a half thought, and Loki opened his eyes in his projected self as it stepped through the door, completely ignoring the lock.
Raya was still thrashing against the restraints, and as he stared at her, walking hesitantly closer, he tried to rationalize why he was even in here.
He wasn’t going to wake her up, that would be horribly, almost laughably stupid. However, he couldn’t just stand at the end of her bed and watch her have a nightmare.
The harsh grating of metal ripped him from his contemplation, watching as Raya’s skin began to glow, a strange, reddish rush of energy bubbling under her flesh, clear even through the thick material of her bodysuit, and he instinctively took a step backwards.
Her screams reverberated through his skull as the glowing light rose towards her chest, looking almost as if it were… pulsing. Beating. Like a second heart.
Loki’s eyes were drawn to it, curiosity and fear warring within his mind as he stayed rooted to the spot. The skin of her neck was now reddening as the glow moved up to her collarbone, and even though he was nothing more than a projection, he clenched his fists as he stared.
Raya’s mouth opened, her jaw cracking terrifyingly as the energy spilled from between her lips, something like flames racing out towards him, and a yell was ripped from him as he automatically shielded himself, flinging his arm up in front of his face.
He watched as the flames passed through his projection, and he hissed as his real body suddenly began to sting, his consciousness flickering between his two minds just as Raya shot up in bed, the metal of her chains rattling as she fought violently against them.
He closed his eyes, squeezing them tightly, and then he was back in the room, watching as she writhed, her eyes burning a bright crimson as they met his.
Raya’s chest was heaving as she thrashed violently, her screams renewed as she shook against the binds, and Loki’s heart was racing, unsure what to do as she began to cough, blood spilling out into the white sheets before her.
“What are you doing here?” She screamed at him, her voice seared with rage as red light flickered along her palms, but then the destabiliser hissed, and she cried out as shocks ran through her.
Loki didn’t dare take a step closer, waiting, his nails digging into his palms, terror he wouldn’t admit to causing his breath to quicken almost imperceptibly.
Raya gasped as she convulsed, electricity coursing through her body, and Loki’s stomach roiled with fear as he watched her eyes rolled back, bloody drool slipping from her lips, her body half twisted to the side.
A few moments passed, and then the only sound was Raya’s ragged breathing.
Loki’s body swayed as he lifted his foot slightly from the ground, his mind reeling as he stared at her, shifting nervously as he took a small step forward.
Her eyes fixed on him immediately, pupils dilating in what he could only assume was rage, and while Loki was relieved to see they were no longer shining red, he was still tense, hardly daring to breathe.
“What was that?” He said, his voice much hoarser than he had been expecting, and Raya attempted to untangle her limbs as she struggled to sit up, spitting blood from her mouth.
For a few seconds, she simply glared at him, her breaths still coming heavily, and he assumed she wouldn’t answer, but then her hand gripped the bedsheets tightly, as if she were steeling herself for an argument, and she said,
“Protection. Natural reaction to threats when I am not present to notice them.”
Her eyes cast down slightly, exhaling hard through her nose and Loki stepped slightly closer, his hands folding behind his back as he fidgeted with his fingers.
“I have no control over it.” She added, her voice shaking slightly, and then her eyes jumped back to him, widening in fear as they raked over his form. “Did I burn you?”
Loki only shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered her, looking for a reason behind her words.
Surely, they were not spoken out of concern.
“I did not threaten you.” Loki said quietly, his eyes roaming over her form, questions forming on his lips, but before he could speak again, Raya cut him off, her voice sharp.
“Your presence is a threat to me.”
She stared up to meet his eyes; she made an unnerving amount of eye contact he’d noticed, and he couldn’t decide if he liked it or not.
He kept his face clear of any misgivings he had about being so close to her, straightening his back to appear more confident.
“You didn’t burn me.” He assured her, and he thought he saw her expression soften, tension leaving her features even as her hands remained clenched into fists. “You cannot.”
Raya tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as they travelled down to his chest, down to the place they both knew a mark was seared into his skin, and he added quickly,
“Not now.”
He lifted his hand, and her head snapped up to follow his fingers as they pressed into his chest, and he willed the projection to weaken just for a moment, allowing his hand to move through his body.
Loki thought himself to be someone adept at reading people’s emotions right off their faces. It helped to be able to adapt his features to theirs when lying, and it was something he often prided himself on.
However, maybe time around humans had affected his ability because the sound that escaped Raya’s lips could not have been a breath of relief.
After a brief bout of silence, a strange sense of pride blossoming in his chest at the awed look in Raya’s eyes, a whisper left unsure lips, her stricken expression falling into one of disbelief.
“I can’t hurt you?”
Loki took another step closer, emboldened as she calmed down, and he hesitated, his eyes still trained on her, ready to react if needed.
“I suppose not.” He said, coming to a stop just beside her bed and bringing his hands forward to show they were empty as she fidgeted slightly. “I am not really here, but my mind is conscious in this body.”
He tapped the side of his head, and Raya sat up slightly, her eyes catching his and locking him in the magnetism of her gaze.
Loki’s chest constricted, fear roiling with uncertainty in his stomach as his muscles felt much, much heavier, and he was reminded of the night they had met, the moment he’d begun spiraling into memories, the moment his words flew from his mouth unbidden-
Raya hissed, and immediately the weight lifted off him, causing him to suck in a hurried breath, and she made an affirming noise as her eyes dropped from him.
“I know. I can hear it.”
He pressed his palm to his forehead, swallowing the wave of nausea that rolled through him as his other hand steadied himself against the bed.
As he squeezed his eyes shut, his mind flickered between the two bodies, half listening as the blankets around Raya’s legs were shifted, half feeling the cool metal pressed to his cheek as his magic swirled around inside him.
“Sit.” A voice commanded, and as his head spun, red light flickering behind his eyes, and for the first time in his life, he did as he was told.
His hands twisted tightly in the sheets as he slowly opened his eyes, and Raya was studying him, her eyebrows furrowed, and her expression laced with concern.
Confusing.
“Are you okay?” She asked, and the question didn’t register in his mind, the syllables strung together in a fickle mixture of worry.
The pain in his head was ebbing slightly as she held his gaze, and as suddenly as the panic had come, comfort followed, washing through him and eating away at the fear that still caused his heart to skip a beat.
Memories, half formed and full of warmth, began to flood his mind, and his breathing slowed automatically as his eyes moved to follow the flickering images through his head.
His mother, pulling him into her arms as her voice echoed sweetened bedtime stories, the lights of Asgard shining below him as he reclined on the highest tower of the castle, a ball with hundreds of dancing figures, beautiful women intertwined with beautiful men, and him laughing, really laughing, his words slurred from too much mead-
Loki blinked through the blurred waves of memories, his eyes dropping to her hand as it shifted, and it took him a moment to realise it was shaking. As the destabilizer sparked, he realized that she was the thing calming him, and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind.
Raya let out a strangled sound, and her hand clenched into a fist as the destabilizer sent another shock up her arm, but her eyes never left him, darting around his face like she was searching for something.
“I am… fine.” Loki said in answer to her earlier question, his voice breaking slightly as he reoriented himself, his grip on the sheets loosening as the pain eased further.
He didn’t sound certain, and he hated the tremble in his words, hated being so unsure, but he was careful not to show any discomfort on his face.
“I should have warned you.” Raya said quietly, her eyes still moving anxiously over his features. “On my planet, we don’t- but that is not an excuse. It is different here.”
Her voice became slightly more distressed, and it seemed as if she was scolding herself, her shoulders hunching as she folded in on herself, pulling back from him.
Loki’s mind could not comprehend what was going on. He didn’t understand why she cared, she who had tried to kill him mere hours beforehand, not for the first, but for the third time.
However, any semblance of a thought process he’d had was shattered at her next words, his mind sent reeling as she whispered,
“I caused your fear. I often forget how… intrusive my abilities can be. I…”
She paused, her mouth opening and closing a few times, as if the words she held on the tip of her tongue were a taste she was unsure of, and Loki watched her in silence, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to make sense of the situation.
“I am… sorry.” She said finally, her eyes narrowing slightly as they met his, looking just as perplexed as he felt at her use of the phrase. “Your mind is scattered. The strands of your thought are too easy to grasp, and it will take time before I can remember to… ask.”
The only thing Loki was certain of was that he had never been so thrown by someone’s words before. Never before had he seen such hesitant sincerity carved into every feature of someone’s face, from her shadowed eyes to her nervously parted lips, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to continue.
Her apology made his heart clench, and he shifted uncomfortably as he stared back at her, his words failing him as his mind struggled to catch up to what was happening.
It was now, as he sat in confused silence, that he realized he couldn’t recall a time he had ever been apologized to.
“I hope I’m using that word correctly.” Raya continued after he unsuccessfully tried to collect himself, and Loki looked at her, so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none willing to crest his barrier of silence. “Clint said that it was the right way to apologize here. ‘If we mess up, we say sorry.’”
Loki could tell that her last words were an echo of the Hawk, and he sat forwards slightly, noting the way her gloved fingers tightened around the metal of her restraints, almost like she was testing them.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” He asked, his voice slightly hoarse as he fought the ever-familiar burn rising in his throat. “What do you mean, the right way to apologize here?”
Raya’s legs were pulled up to her chest, the slight waves of her hair dropping from her shoulder as she turned her head, her expression taut with worry.
“Clint told me that those on Earth do not settle arguments with fights. That they talk, and they say, ‘I’m sorry’.” She said quietly, her voice soft as she settled back against the pillows, the tension in her shoulders lessening. “I didn’t know there was any other way than blood and bruises. The pain, that was what said, ‘I’m sorry’.”
Raya wasn’t looking at him anymore. Her eyes had glazed over, her mind lost to something he couldn’t see, and Loki tentatively rested himself on the side of the bed as he waited for her to continue speaking.
“At least, that’s what I thought it meant. I thought you were trying to apologize to me. That you wanted to fight to say you knew why I burned you. I thought you knew I wasn’t trying to hurt you, but Clint…” Her voice trailed off, and Loki could only stare at her, rubbing his neck slowly, his fingers trailing over the bruises left by her hands. “Clint made it sound like you didn’t know. That you thought I was trying to kill you.”
“You…” The word came out in a single breath, and Loki didn’t understand, he didn’t get it, he didn’t understand.
As Raya finally looked up, Loki felt his chest ache as he watched tears build in her eyes, her hand curling in the blood-stained bedsheets before her.
“I am… sorry.” She said, her voice catching with something that sounded like regret. “I acted too harshly when I burned you before the Avengers. I was angry, and I thought I could blame you, turn you into a catalyst for my rage.”
None of her words made sense. Nothing made sense, but she was still talking, and he was remembering, remembering the pain as his skin was burnt from his chest, as his clothing was melted to his flesh.
“I didn’t wait to find out anything else, and I hurt you. I scared you.” Raya continued, still staring into his eyes, and Loki pressed his fingers to his chest, his face set. “I scared everyone.”
It crossed his mind to lie. It always did. He wanted to tell her she was crazy, that no one could scare him, that he was stronger than that. That every time she had won against him, he hadn’t been trying or he hadn’t cared.
It would be so easy, so easy to make her tears go away and make her hate him, because everyone did, because that was all he had earned.
“You did.” He said, far too quiet, barely able to part his lips, afraid to spill all his strange emotions out into the world. “You terrified me.”
Raya didn’t have a visible reaction to his affirmation, and he hadn’t expected one. She had already known what his answer would be.
“You deserved a chance.” She said, her hands now lying limply on the sides of the bed, resting as if she was used to the sensation. “You deserved a chance to explain, instead of being subject to me. I know now, why you did it. You didn’t have a choice.”
Loki’s breath caught in his throat, panic clawing at him, and immediately he wanted to prove her wrong, to tell her it was him, only him.
“You did some of it.” Raya went on, studying him closely, as if she was waiting for him to break, to shatter under the weight of her words. “But there was someone else there, in your head, telling you what to do. I can feel them when I go into your mind. It’s faint, but it’s like a bruise.”
He cocked his head slightly to the side, trying to understand, and her breath was slightly shaky as she added,
“Even after the initial impact, there’s still a mark. There’s still traces of the pain lingering, tainting your memories.”
Raya slumped against the pillows, her breathing slightly heavier, and Loki watched her swallow hard; clearly, all her talking had hurt her, and he wondered if she was used to using her voice this much.
His mind was spinning from everything she had said, and he stared down at his hands as he tried to process her words.
She wasn’t trying to kill him. She was sorry she hurt him. She was taking accountability for being angry at him. She’d thought he was apologising when they had fought.
She wasn’t trying to kill me.
“I wanted to do it.” Loki said, but he didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or himself. “I was a king.”
Be quiet.
“I would have made it easy for them.”
He didn’t know how to answer her, how to respond to her apology. He wasn’t going to thank her, he wasn’t weak, but she was still watching him, listening to ramblings she knew too much about.
She knows too much.
He could kill her. The Avengers would’ve let her kill him if Thor hadn’t been there to stop it. There was no one here to stop him now.
No one except himself.
“Do you truly believe that?” Raya said, and his eyes snapped over to her, her soft words dragging him back from the darkness. “Do you even know why you did it?”
Revenge. To prove to everyone that he was powerful, that he deserved to rule over something, anything. To show everyone he deserved to be known as something more than the son of an enemy king, to leave a mark somewhere other than his own body.
“You deserved a chance to explain.”
He was on his feet now, and he couldn’t look at her, his projection was shifting, stuttering, flickering-
“I did it because I wanted to.” Loki said forcefully, but his voice was weak. “The mortals, they are nothing, they have no form, no one to make their decisions. Free thought invites challenge, incites pain.”
Raya had tensed as he began to pace, and as her hands clenched at her sides, her eyes widening infinitesimally, he thought he caught a hint of panic in her expression before her features tightened.
Kill her.
Was that him thinking? Which thoughts were his? Why couldn’t he remember?
“Nothing good comes from independent thought. It only… hurts.”
His chest was aching, his breaths were skipping, his hands were shaking, and it was her fault.
Kill her.
She wasn’t defenceless, he knew that. She would fight and he would burn.
Kill her.
He turned his head towards Raya, and he didn’t know what he was feeling, he didn’t understand anything, because he couldn’t remember what emotions were his.
She didn’t look scared, eyes steeled over in acceptance, mouth set in a tight line.
His head was throbbing, a headache building as he stared at her, his breaths coming faster, and he was growing more agitated, his fingers trembling as he lifted them slightly from his side.
Kill her.
He didn’t want to.
He didn’t want to.
Loki let out an exasperated sound, and his hands ripped at the bloodied bedsheets, pulling them away from her and tossing them into a corner of the room.
Raya stayed quiet, but he could hear her handcuffs rattling as her hands trembled, waiting for him to hurt her.
He was so angry, but at who? His heart was aching, breaking, shards of fear and panic tipped with poisonous guilt slicing at him, but why?
He advanced on her, and she didn’t even flinch as he brought his hand down towards her, but he didn’t touch her, instead crushing the handcuff where it rested around her wrist.
His magic swirled around her hand, and now she was trying to pull away, but the handcuffs wouldn’t let her move.
The metal fell away from her right hand, and Loki stepped back, his chest heaving slightly, his hands shaking as his fingers flickered in and out of sight.
Raya looked from her free hand up to him, shock and confusion flooding in her expression, and his voice was frustrated as he said, hooking onto something that didn’t make his head ache,
“You did use the word right.”
Dark brown eyes met his, narrowed in uncertainty, and his heart wrenched.
“’Sorry’. You used it right.”
Raya rubbed her wrist slowly, her eyes still trained on him, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, a hand closed over his shoulder, and he was thrown back into his real body.
He let out a groan as his consciousness slammed back into his head, and he caught the final traces of his projection as it disintegrated before he was spun around.
There was a small group of people around him, but he barely spared a glance to them, his eyes only lingering for half a second on Nick Fury’s face before his gaze settled on Thor.
“Brother? What are you- are you alright?” Thor asked, and it was now that Loki realised he was still shaking, and he nodded even as his breaths caught, as his eyes burned.
“Just enjoying the company of your prisoner.” Loki answered quickly, his answer sharp and mocking, glancing up to see annoyance pass over his brother’s face.
He looked over his shoulder through the glass, and Raya was looking at him already, her expression blank once again.
“What did you do? Where did those bruises come from?” Thor’s voice was tinted with an accusation, and Loki rolled his eyes, swatting away the man’s hand as he turned away.
“Ask her.” He said simply, his throat constricting around the words as his mind swirled with strange thoughts, as his heart beat to the pain of unwanted feelings.
Fury let out an irritated sigh, pushing past the brothers and unlocking the door to the infirmary, his voice sharp as he said,
“I don’t have time for your family issues, Thor. Leave him.”
Loki’s eyes flicked angrily to the man as he pushed through the door, and Thor stepped away from him, his expression almost worried, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care.
He turned on his heel, walking quickly away from the infirmary, swallowing hard to ward off the tears he could feel building in his eyes.
“We need to talk to you, Your Highness.” He heard Fury say to Raya just before he turned a corner, the last words a taunt as they floated through the open door.
Loki’s nails dug into his palm as he sped away, and he was too consumed by his own thoughts to spare more for what they wanted with Raya.
She hadn’t even moved when he’d gone towards her.
He wasn’t certain about anything. He stumbled into the elevator just as a wave of panic hit him, the world slowing unbearably, and then his breaths weren’t coming at all.
Was she going to let me kill her?
*
Stark Tower, New York City.
5:21pm, May 7th, 2012.
None of them were touching her, but inside her head, she was still screaming.
The armoured men and women were too close, pressing in around her like an unyielding wall of black cloth, and she was repressing each shiver of fear as they rippled through her body.
She couldn’t let them know she was afraid.
Thor was at the side of the group, but she couldn’t look at him, all her focus was stolen by simply walking forwards.
Maybe he had been putting up an act just to get information from her; he had been nice, far too nice.
She should have stayed quiet. She should have known.
Things only ever got worse when she spoke her mind, she’d learnt that hundreds of years ago, and yet, it had apparently never settled in.
“Nothing good comes from independent thought. It only… hurts.”
Loki had been right about that.
Her nerves were on edge from their conversation; she couldn’t call it an argument. The word didn’t really fit.
“You did use the word right.”
Sorry. She’d said sorry to him. He’d deserved it. Deserved an Earthen apology, one that wasn’t borne from her fists or painted with her bruises.
He’d been under someone else’s control. She wouldn’t ever lie to him. She couldn’t. Her life was always painstakingly on the line, everything she said, everything she did was watched and monitored here, every wrong step could be her last. She knew it, even if it was hidden behind faces of calm and words of comfort she couldn’t really believe.
Just like it was on Cirica.
Someone tugged hard on the chains around her wrists, and out of habit, she pulled back, anger flaring in her stomach, her eyes widened in panic.
Instantly, she heard guns cock around her, the clink of metal making her head snap up, glaring at the masked figures that surrounded her, but then her eyes caught on someone, and she froze.
Clint was staring at something up on the screen before him, his face set in a line, but as he turned his head and met her gaze, he jumped to his feet immediately.
“Fury, are you crazy?” He said angrily, and Nat reached over from beside him to tap his shoulder comfortingly. “Get them away from her, now!”
Raya’s eyes darted over to the man standing on her right, and she watched as he sighed, gesturing to the soldiers around her, and they stepped back easily.
She let out a breath of relief as Clint moved towards her, but she didn’t speak, her voice still hoarse from screaming in her nightmares.
Nightmares.
Memories.
She’d never really known the difference.
“Are you- alright?” Clint asked, hesitating just as his hands reached towards her, an almost unnoticeable mistake, but it made her heart ache all the same.
“I am fine.” She said, her voice empty, colder than she’d wanted it to be, and she sniffled slightly. “I want to know what’s going on.”
It was now that she realised all the Avengers were here, staring at her, their fingers hovering over weapons, and she was reminded awfully of the kitchen, of the burning, of Thor’s pleading yells-
She swayed slightly, squeezing her eyes shut against the feelings as the man Clint had addressed as Fury began to talk, walking around to stand before the screen on the wall.
“We want to discuss the very minor problem your appearance seems to have caused.” He said, and his tone reminded her of Tony, of Loki, but as she met his dark eye, she found she didn’t like it at all.
She glanced at Nat, and the woman simply sighed, tilting her head towards the screen.
Raya followed the movement, and her eyes fixed on a photo of a headless woman, her eyes blank, dried blood resting on her pale lips.
“I fail to see how a dead human is my fault.” She said, confused, but the Fury man seemed to take issue with her tone, because he snapped,
“Oh? Does this help you understand, Princess?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tony’s jaw tightened as Fury used her title, but she didn’t let herself linger on it. She only wished someone had told the man she hated it.
The screen flickered, and another image came up, and Raya took a step forwards, her eyes narrowing, her chains clinking as she studied the markings on the woman’s back.
Her star. Her name.
She knows.
As she moved closer to the screen, she raised her hand and pressed it against the warmth, lowering her head in reverence to the woman on the screen.
She could sense eyes on her, but she didn’t turn, muttering a prayer, trying to ease her soul apart from her insignia.
“What is she doing?” Someone, she assumed a solider, whispered, but their words were cut off by Thor’s gruff voice.
“Leave her be.”
The words sent a wave of relief through her, and she dropped her hand back to her side, turning away from the woman on the screen.
“The Kleviah.” She said, her eyes locking on Fury’s. “Guardians of the Crown. They are searching for me, which means my mother suspects I survived the fall.”
Her heartbeat was very loud in her ears, but she still heard the man’s disbelieving sigh, and she glared up at him, her previous irritation returning rapidly.
“I must find them.” She insisted, and the man laughed, the incredulous tone causing her to tilt her head in annoyance.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you run around Earth by yourself.” Fury said, his voice edged with finality, and his eye stayed fixed on her.
“I never said I would go alone.” Raya said calmly, keeping her composure, a strange sense of respect building in her chest as she studied him. “While I would rather avoid any more human casualties, I am not stupid enough to believe you trust me on my own.”
Fury looked surprised at her directness, and as she saw him glance towards Tony, she followed his eyes.
He was smiling, his expression pulled into an almost taunting grin, and he winked at her, an action that made the ghost of a confused smile pass over her lips.
“What are you proposing?” Fury said, clearly annoyed though she couldn’t imagine why.
“You can come with me. The Avengers can come. I heard something about them being ‘earth’s mightiest heroes.’” Raya said, looking up to meet his eye. “If you are worried about my containment, who better is there to contain me?”
She didn’t need them. She could find the beasts on her own and using herself as bait would be easy, but she was still their prisoner. She had to abide by their rules.
Compromise.
Fury’s expression was tight with consideration, his eyes narrowed as he examined her, and she held her head high.
She would rather this was a civil matter; she disliked the idea of leaving such a large spectacle in her wake if she was forced to kill everyone.
“How wonderfully said.” Tony’s voice came from behind her, and she looked around again, her eyes catching on the thumbs up Clint gave her and the smirk on Nat’s lips for a moment before they found Tony. “And who else could give us such an informed view on the things that killed these people?”
Tony nodded to Raya, and she turned to address more of the people in the room, her chains clinking around her wrists as she did.
“The Kleviah are beasts made of scales, born from fire. My family, we have been their patrons for many a millennium, and they protect us.” She said, swallowing hard against the burn in her throat as her eyes roamed over the faces of those before her, lingering on Steve’s furrowed brow before she continued. “They also know our scents, in the case of an unruly Emperor or Empress. They were designed to kill, fashioned to hunt, skilled in stealth. They are immensely strong, and their only weaknesses…”
She cleared her throat as a smile crossed her lips, one of the happier memories from her childhood flitting through her mind.
“The only certain way I have ever tried is to tear them apart from the inside.” She said calmly, confused at the unnerved looks she got from those who surrounded her. “They were born in heat, but their scales are what make them immune to fire. Their insides, just like everything else, burn.”
The stunned silence that followed her words caused her to cast a concerned look at Clint, thinking that perhaps they didn’t understand, but his shocked expression only made her more confused.
“When you say you want the Avengers…” Bruce spoke up, and she looked over at him, finding his expression twisted slightly, clearly deep in thought. “Who do you think that means?”
Raya blinked, his tone of voice confusing her; it sounded as if he were addressing someone who was ill, someone not quite present in their reality, and she bristled at the unspoken implication.
“Nat. Clint. Tony. Thor. Steve. You.” She said, but just as a flash of relief crossed his expression, her tongue curled around the final name, knowing the spark it would ignite. “Loki.”
Fury made a sound halfway between a laugh and an irritated breath as he raised his hands to his head, and agitated whispers broke out between the group of soldiers, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.
Perhaps on Earth they allowed conversation between members of the militia.
She could still recall the exact pitch of the scream a comrade of hers had let out as they were torn in half beside her, all because they had been stupid enough to speak out of turn.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of, Stark.” Fury said, his voice angry, and she shifted her gaze back to him, watching as he advanced on Tony. “He’s got her under a spell, and probably got her to protect the Tesseract for him!”
She blinked, once again confused, an emotion she seemed to be experiencing quite a lot since the fall.
“Loki has no claim over Raya!” Thor shouted, a challenge in his voice, and Raya’s eyes darted to him, her mind racing from his words. “I am sick of this moronic conversation, my brother-”
“Your brother is a mass murderer who killed hundreds of people with no remorse.” Fury shot back, and Raya looked at him curiously. “I’m not letting him out into the world again after your last family squabble nearly destroyed New York!”
No remorse…?
Every time she spoke with Loki, even though he tried to hide it behind nonchalance or cockiness, it seemed that he was nothing but remorseful.
She could feel it, could see it in his memories.
“Sir, I understand your misgivings-” Steve started, moving closer to the center with the others, and Fury let out a short bark of an exasperated laugh.
“Don’t tell me you think this is actually a good idea, Rogers.”
Raya’s eyes met the Captain’s, and she held his gaze easily, her stomach clenching slightly with nerves.
“No, I don’t.” Steve said simply, and Raya’s heart sank. “However, bringing the fight here, to us, isn’t smart. We need to minimize civilian casualties and drawing these… things away from innocents would detract from any destruction.”
Raya turned her head hopefully back to Fury, and he was staring at the Captain, apparently shocked he would take her side, but she was grateful he did. He seemed to be a well-known figure here, and she needed a vote of confidence from someone others trusted.
“I would like to do this away from your people.” Raya said, adding on to Steve’s point as she picked at the metal of her chains. “It can sometimes get… messy.”
Thor stepped up to her side, and she was emboldened by his presence, continuing as everyone’s eyes fell on her yet again.
“Thor and Loki are the best choices to aid me. I do not know how many there will be, the Kleviah are born hundreds at a time, and there is no guarantee they will not find a breeding ground here. They will speed up the process of killing.”
Her words were simple but earned a few strange glances, something she ignored.
“It will be the best for everyone if we can keep this under control.” Nat chimed in, standing from her seat to join the conversation. “Raya is our only guide to these creatures. It doesn’t matter why they are here, but how we will treat the situation.”
Raya watched as each Avenger refused to step down, even Bruce, who reluctantly nodding along to Nat’s sentiment, and saw the fight diminish behind Fury’s eyes.
“Fine.” Fury conceded through gritted teeth, and Raya sighed softly to herself in relief. “But you will remain contained until we encounter them, just as Loki will.”
Raya nodded easily, and Fury tapped his fingers on the table for a moment before he shot a look towards his soldiers, calling,
“You heard them. We leave tonight!”
Raya turned, triumph in her heart, and was immediately met with Clint’s proud expression, something that made an uncertain warmth to blossom in her chest.
“Good work, kid.” He said, his voice almost teasing, and she allowed her lips to perk up slightly at the nickname as she nodded towards him.
She watched as the soldiers and other Avengers filed out of the room, but her eyes were drawn back to the screen, where the dead body was still displayed. Her mark was clearly engraved, her name straight through it, and a cold sense of dread worked its way through her as her eyes travelled over her insignia once again.
Her mother definitely knew, probably had known since her pets had failed to find her body. The idea of facing the Kleviah wasn’t scary, she was used to them.
No, what was scary was the idea of guiding those who didn’t understand the inner workings of the creatures they were fighting, into battle.
At Thor’s ushering gesture, she looked away from the screen, her stomach still swirling uncomfortably as she was led back to her bedroom.
While she was fearful, fearful of what was to come, she was also excited.
She was allowed to leave here. Explore parts of the mortal world, learn more about the planet of people hidden in another universe.
Perhaps, she would rather like it here.
Chapter 6: An Eye For An Eye
Summary:
heyyy! school holidays have hit me, and im taking advantage of the free time (mostly) that I have to really delve into this work. Honestly, i hope i can continue with this pace, AND keep up the quality of the storyline, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments for me to sift through. I really enjoy reading people's theories about what will happen next, it pushes me to keep writing and keep everyone excited :)
As usual, I hope everyone is well and taking care of themselves, and please enjoy this chapter (a very different set of emotions AND povs for this one, which I know some people have been asking/interested in).
There is another language spoken within this chapter, and I did have to use a site to translate the words so if anyone finds any mistakes with it, please tell me, and I will try to fix it.
formatting may be strange bc once again im on a computer, but just roll it please.
Hey guys, so im stupid and forgot that Asgardians possess allspeak, and therefore Loki would understand raya, that's my bad.
Chapter title from Hayloft ll - Mother Mother
as always, for drea, my no1 supporter and mind twin <3 cant wait for your reactions to this.
Chapter Text
Stark Tower, New York City.
8:37pm, May 7th, 2012.
7 hr and 46 min from the waypoint.
The first thing Nick had ever learned was to trust his instincts.
Trusting himself, trusting that gut feeling, that dull ache that told him something wasn’t right, was what had kept him alive.
His hands rubbed against the cool railing, narrowed eyes staring out at a glittering city.
He had grown used to that feeling, so used to it in fact, that the sudden absence of it was jarring.
Raya’s words had held no trace of superiority. Nothing she did was condescending, nothing, and she had spoken to them, not as if they were children who needed a guide, but as if they were equals in need of assistance.
That very behavior had thrown him for a curveball, and it didn’t make sense.
He liked having everything planned, to meticulously order and structure everyone and everything he dealt with. But some people, they made their own plans. Followed their own rules.
Some people, like Loki, like Tony Stark, were vexing, abhorrent forces of nature. Uncontainable, and unpredictable.
He didn’t understand why she wasn’t.
“The team is ready, sir.” A voice said from behind him, and he looked around, his hands still gripping the railing before him tightly as Maria’s face swam into focus. “All bodies accounted for.”
Nick nodded, letting out a slight sigh, his forehead furrowed with agitation as he straightened himself up, and he saw Maria’s expression shift as her eyes followed his movements.
“Something wrong?” She asked, her voice still tinged with that same formality, but he could see the concern in her gaze.
He laughed dryly, shaking his head slightly as he walked towards her, and she immediately fell in step beside him, turning away from the balcony.
“No.” He said simply, his mouth shifting into a tight line as they began to weave their way through the halls of Stark Tower, only stopping when they reached a door labelled ‘EMERGENCY’.
Maria, however, seemed to read the thoughts right off his face, and as she stepped aside to let him through the door to the stairwell, she spoke.
“The goddess didn’t fight back.”
Nick let out a soft breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides, running his words carefully through his mind before he let them leave his lips.
“She listened, adjusted to our terms. She was concise.”
Maria walked beside him, their steps synced to match easily, and she nodded, her expression still blank.
“You don’t trust her motives?” She asked, and Nick lowered his head as he thought, the bustle of nervous agents and revving engines meeting his ears as they descended to the ground floor.
“I don’t trust that she doesn’t seem to have any ulterior ones.” He replied, his hand automatically falling to readjust the holster of his gun.
Maria tilted her head in acknowledgment of his words, shrugging her shoulders as they passed through the ranks of soldiers loading into the armored vehicles.
“Nat seems to value her judgement.” She said, lifting her hand into the air as a pair of keys came sailing towards her, catching them easily. “From what she told me, Raya seems rather level-headed.”
Nick didn’t reply, his expression tightening as he watched the elevator doors open, the very subject of their conversation stepping through them.
Thor was standing between Raya and Loki, his hands gripping their chains and leading them through the crowd, the agents parting immediately, and Nick caught flashes of fearful expressions before helmets were secured over faces.
Raya’s expression was curious, her eyes darting all around the garage, examining each face that she passed, whereas Loki was glaring daggers at anyone who dared breathe in his direction.
Jackass.
Both chained gods had muzzles secured over their faces, and Nick wondered briefly why before Maria tapped his elbow.
“We’re out in 5, sir.” She said, and he caught the moment her eyes flicked over to the two gods, her empty expression betraying a hint of uncertainty.
He gave her a quick nod, and she climbed into the front seat of the truck before him, her shouted commands to the agents filling his ears as he returned his eyes to the elevator, where the other Avengers had now appeared.
He saw Raya shake her head at Clint’s offered hand, hooking her chains around the corner of the truck to smoothly pull herself onto its back, and something about the ease of her actions unsettled him.
He didn’t know why he wanted her to be the same as Thor and Loki. He knew he should appreciate her drive, her willingness to listen, to be cooperative, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.
He wasn’t used to it, and, if he were to be truthful with himself, it frightened him.
He could understand unreasonable. He could deal with strange, work with unusual. Compliance, however…
He shook his head as a horn sounded, and just as he went to turn away, the back of his neck began to prickle, and his eyes were drawn towards a glimmer of red light.
Raya was watching him from her seat in the back of the truck, her dark eyes fixed on his face, unwavering even as agents moved through her line of vision, her expression now empty.
His stomach roiled, and he quickly broke their eye contact, unnerved by the cold look in her eyes, not that he let it show on his face as he climbed into the truck after Maria.
She had agreed to everything so easily, too easily. She had to have something, something that tipped the scales from helpful to hinderance, but there was nothing - nothing he could think of, anyway.
She was a threat, but she was calm, willing to obey orders and civil.
Half his own staff couldn’t meet those requirements, and they all had guns strapped to their chests right now, yelling to each other as the trucks began to move out, following the darkened roads into secret tunnels underneath the city.
He couldn’t trust her. There was always another side to someone, always a secret they were yet to unveil, and he just needed to wait her out.
As darkness rolled over him, high beamed headlights illuminating their way through the tunnels, Nick clutched his gun just a little bit tighter.
*
Erie, Pennsylvania.
12:37am, May 8th, 2012.
3 hours and 46 minutes from the waypoint.
Steve jerked awake as the armored truck hit a particularly nasty bump, his head bouncing slightly on the window, and his hand tightened immediately around his shield as his eyes darted around to take in his surroundings.
Thor was resting on the left of the truck, asleep, his face losing some of the tight lines Steve had become accustomed to seeing, and Steve quickly moved to straighten himself up, his eyes snapping over to their two captives.
Loki was glaring resolutely ahead, his eyes fixed on some distant spot beyond the horizon, his hands now loosened from where he had been tightly gripping his chains.
Steve’s jaw tightened slightly as he remembered Loki’s sharp quip upon being forced into the restraints, the one that had prompted the muzzle, and his lips quirked up into a half smile as he turned his eyes to the other side of the truck.
Nat was sitting next to Raya, the woman’s muzzle resting in Nat’s hand as she tried to pour water into her mouth.
His stomach clenched as Raya’s insistent words from hours before flitted through his mind, forcing Nat to secure a muzzle over her face as they had done to Loki, ignoring Clint’s joke about how that decision was made to keep their ear drums from bursting and bleeding out.
He wasn’t quite sure why she’d been so persistent, having only caught parts of their conversation, but it sounded as if she was worried for their safety, rather than her own.
Nat seemed to have noticed him stirring, fastening the muzzle back around Raya’s head as she went to stand, and Steve tilted his head towards her as she walked towards him, swaying slightly as the truck moved over roughened road.
“Captain.” She said softly, her lips curling into a smile as she handed him the water bottle, and he took it gratefully. “Welcome back.”
He returned her smile politely before he took a sip of water, his eyes moving towards the front of the truck, flicking between the drivers.
“Did I miss anything while I was out?” He asked, and Nat shook her head quickly, sighing slightly.
“Other than Barton having a very one-sided argument with Loki, no, nothing.” She gestured over her shoulder, and Steve now saw Clint sitting in the corner, his bow resting over his knees as he slept.
He took another sip of water, and he saw Nat give him a sideways glance as she leant against the wall of the truck.
“I tried to get her to sleep, but she keeps refusing. Something about it not being safe- that was all she’d tell me.” Nat said in a low voice, and Steve glanced over at Raya as she shifted, her eyes cast down at her chained hands.
“Best to believe her.” He said simply, twisting the lid back on the bottle and placing it in the netted pocket before him. “She knows herself better than we do.”
He saw Nat smile at his words, but he didn’t question it, lifting the arm that held his shield and flexing his fingers around the leather strap.
The two rested in comfortable silence for a few moments, the gentle sway of the truck under their feet almost relaxing, Steve’s eyes moving momentarily over Nat’s features, softened in a way he hadn’t seen before.
“I’m glad you spoke against Fury.” She said suddenly, and his mouth twisted slightly, letting out a sharp sigh.
“It doesn’t mean I think this is a good idea.” He defended, but his voice didn’t hold much force. “I just don’t want any more casualties.”
His hand clenched behind his shield, the only outward sign of his distress as his mind was cast back to the battle mere days beforehand.
Hundreds of deaths, screams of the wounded in fallen buildings, splatters of blood tainting every corner of concrete as he ran past, all of it had haunted him for the past few days, all the people he’d never know lying dead in graves they weren’t fit for seeming to taunt him during his waking hours.
His nightmares, they’d been around ever since the war, but now they were filled with aliens and armored, flying beasts who could destroy buildings with a single sweep of their tails.
The impossibility of it all didn’t stop it from being true, and it only served as a reminder, a dark thought hovering in the back of his mind, telling him he’d failed.
He blinked, shaking his head slightly, and it was only now that he realized Nat had been speaking, her hand resting gently on his shoulder as she watched him with concerned eyes.
“Steve?” Her voice was gentle, and it was clear she knew, knew where his thoughts had turned, but he set his jaw and looked away from her, shaking off her hand.
“If we neutralize this threat now, while we can still monitor it, we can avoid any more murders.” He said, his voice harsher than he had meant it, but Nat didn’t show any signs of irritation at his change in tone. “She’s our bait. They want her, not us. We can stop a fight before it starts.”
The warmth in Nat’s demeanor was slowly draining away, he could sense it, could see it out of the corner of his eye as her shoulders tensed, shutting herself down.
He didn’t owe her kindness. They weren’t friends. They’d had each other’s backs, trusted each other for the purposes of the mission, but he had no delusions about them being close.
“You can never stop a fight before it starts.” Nat said, her voice cool as she looked over at him, her eyes narrowed slightly. “You, of all people, should understand that.”
Steve tightened his grip on his shield as he considered her words, and he spoke, the rough quality of his voice falling away with his question.
“Why do you defend her? She hurt you first, Nat. She burned you, and yet you’re acting like you need to protect her.”
Nat’s eyes lingered on him for a moment, and he saw her bandaged hand flex automatically, her hand twisting around her wrist.
“Raya doesn’t need anyone to protect her, and that’s not what I’m doing.” She said, turning her head slightly, and he knew where she was looking. “She’s still a person, Steve. All of this is new to her, we can’t expect her to act like us, and if she’s to be believed, she didn’t burn me on purpose.”
He let out a slight huff of exasperation, and when she returned her eyes to him, he shook his head incredulously.
“That’s exactly it, Nat, if she is to be believed. We have no idea what she wants, and the last god that came here tried to kill us all.” His voice drawled slightly over the word god, and Nat’s lip quirked in irritation. “We can’t trust her, but we can’t ignore this either. That is the only reason I backed her.”
Nat didn’t answer, and as he glanced at her, he realized her eyebrows were furrowed in concern as she looked over his shoulder.
There was a frantic clinking of metal from behind them, and he turned, his grip on his shield tightening as he saw that Raya was standing, gesturing wildly as she fought against her restraints.
Her eyes were shining with an urgent sense of panic, and as Nat moved quickly towards her, Steve hovered behind, listening as she let out muffled cries against her muzzle.
Nat was quick to undo it, and the material had barely left her mouth before Raya started speaking, her voice strained with fear,
“They’re coming, they’re here-”
As the truck in front of them exploded into a great ball of fire, drowning out the rest of Raya’s words, Steve was thrown into the wall, hitting his head hard against the metal, the world spinning wildly as he lost his footing completely.
The Kleviah had found them.
*
Erie, Pennsylvania.
1:01am, May 8th, 2012.
Smoke filled her lungs, a familiar scent she could almost taste, and Raya coughed harshly as she lifted her head, her eyes watering from the impact against the metal walls.
Flames were flickering ahead of her, curling around melted corners of metal, and she groaned as she struggled with her binds, trying to sit herself up.
In the front seat, the driver and escort from SHIELD were lying awfully still, and as she blinked, she could see splatters of blood decorating the windshield.
She swallowed hard and glanced at the bodies stirring weakly around her; a flash of red hair as Nat’s head turned slowly, emerald-green cloth pressed against a heaving chest, the red, white, and blue shield shimmering as Steve got to his feet, his arm raised to grip the side of the truck.
Her eyes darted up as she caught another movement, and Clint was walking unsteadily towards her, a streak of blood running down his forehead.
Her breaths were still harsh, and she could feel them all around, the Kleviah’s presence a hard pressure into the back of her mind.
“Barton…” she heard Nat groan softly, and as Raya tried to pull her hands apart, fighting the bonds around her wrists, she saw Clint kneeling at the woman’s side, his hand reaching out to grip hers.
Raya’s fingers were beginning to burn, warmth settling in them as she focused, and the destabiliser hissed irritably at her, but she ignored the small shock as she pulled herself to her feet.
A faint roar met her ears and panic sent her heart racing, but just as she was about to slam her hands into the metal to break free, the back doors of the truck were ripped from their hinges and a voice called to them.
“Everyone alright?”
The gruff voice was laced with panic, and Raya coughed again as she tried to answer, her throat aching from the smoke, but Steve answered for her.
“We’re alive.”
Thor stepped into the overturned truck, and his eyes were dark with fear as they settled on Loki’s body, but the briefest hint of relief washed through his features as his brother let out an agitated huff of pain, his muzzle lying broken on the ground.
Raya was silent as the destabilizer began to shock her relentlessly, but she was already on her feet, the chains around her wrists melting away into pools of molten liquid.
She could hear their cries, the manic, echoing laughter sending cold chills through her body as she emerged into the night, her eyes cast out to the shadows of the forest surrounding them.
There were soldiers running all around her, and she could hear someone calling to her, but she ignored them, her arm beginning to sting as she resisted the destabilizer’s shocks.
Finally, as her wandering eyes locked on the outline of something large resting between the trunks of two trees, she gritted her teeth and slammed the irritating device into the side of the fallen truck.
The force broke through the rough metal, but the destabilizer cracked under the pressure, coupled with the heat beginning to pulse beneath her skin.
Her next breath was of pure relief, the haze that had rested over her body for the past few days lifting immediately as heat pooled inside her chest, rushing out to flood her body with raw, searing energy.
There was a moment, when she returned her eyes to the beast, that she felt the world fall silent.
The Klevia’s eyes were glittering bright red, twin flames of power calculating her every move, and she knew the others would be watching. They never came alone; there was always another lying in wait, blending in with the shadows.
A perfect copy of her armies, brilliant, cunning forces of nature that melded together in a smooth formation to destroy. To devour.
Her stomach growled as she stared into the darkness, and she swallowed hard as she felt her energy pulse with each steady beat of her heart, ripping her gloves from her hands.
There were sounds behind her, but her vision was reddening, and she only tilted her head to the side slightly, her voice authoritative as she said,
“Get the mortals to safety.”
Not once had she ever intended to let any of them into the fight, but they’d needed to believe her to let her out.
Her mother’s pets were searching for her. Raya knew there would be more, hunting for her as her mother’s will grew stronger, and while a simple calm settled over her body, the vicious burn of rage was biting at her, igniting her need for action.
There were shouts behind her as the trees began to crack, brown trunks shifting into silver scales as the first Klevia began to unfurl itself from its hiding place, and another shriek of cruel laughter echoed through her mind.
They wanted her dead, these things she had once rode into battle. These beasts bound to the Crown, turning their back on their only princess.
Her mother would receive her message.
Carved into the flesh of her precious creatures, like they had carved her insignia into that innocent woman’s flesh, cursing her mortal soul for eternity.
It would be unmistakable, a declaration of her strength, of her will, a message written in blood, telling her that she had survived.
She was beyond being fearful, beyond feeling panicked, sure each breath would draw her mother closer to her.
All Raya felt as her hands opened, her palms facing towards the tree line, was pure, undiluted rage.
Heat rushed through her, and she looked up to meet the Klevia’s fiery eyes again, her lips curling upwards into a smile.
*
Erie, Pennsylvania.
1:12am, May 8th, 2012.
All Loki could see was the flames.
His chest was aching, his eyes were blurred with unshed tears he wouldn’t let anyone see, and the shouts from the SHIELD agents and Avengers alike were sending him into a state of panic he’d never felt before.
One moment Raya had been standing alone in the bare space between the trees and the overturned truck, and the next, her body had been engulfed in white-hot flames, erasing her from his line of sight.
He pushed away Thor’s arm, hobbling towards the shelter of another truck, glancing over his shoulder as his head spun wildly.
A flash of silver scales, the sharp ringing of claws dragging across rock, and then the barest flicker of crimson light.
“Shit, where is she?” He heard Fury shout, his voice angry rather than concerned, and Loki’s heart was in his throat as his eyes darted from left to right, from the swarms of agents around him to the darkness of the surrounding forest.
There was nowhere to run. He was trapped.
His chains were hindering his advances as he was pushed behind an overturned vehicle, and he could hear the frantic rallying of the Avengers beside him, Tony and the Captain bickering, a sight that infuriated him completely.
They had no structure, just lost mortals strung together hopelessly in a desperate attempt to save humanity.
They were doomed.
“There!” An agent shouted from beside him, and his teary eyes snapped over to where the man was pointing his gun.
At first, all he could see was the large beast’s thrashing body, the golden glow of heat rising through its body as it swiped towards something beneath it, but then he saw her, and his chest constricted painfully.
Her eyes were a burning crimson, her dark hair drenched with blood as it fell haphazardly around her face, her lips parted in something like a sneer.
It took him a few moments to realize that it was a smile.
Raya’s arm was forced down the creature’s throat, but she didn’t look to be in any pain; in fact, it was the creature’s muffled cries that filled the clearing as she forced its jaw open with her bare hands.
The crack of breaking bones made him flinch involuntarily, but he kept his eyes fixed on the fight before him, now noticing the hole in the creature’s throat, scales blackened and burnt as blood spilled from the open wound.
The look on Raya’s face was wild as she forced her other hand into the hole in the creature’s neck, and the beast squirmed as she drove it into the ground, flames spluttering from its mouth uselessly.
Loki’s throat was dry, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared in shock at the sight before him, and it had fallen unusually silent around him, the only noises the subtle clicks of rifles being gripped tighter, and the creature’s screams of pain.
The creature was writhing on the ground as Raya hands began to force themselves down into its stomach, and Loki felt nausea sweep through him as he watched blood pool around Raya’s feet.
The creature was screaming, its cry like a desperate laugh, cutting off to be replaced with the sound of tearing flesh as its insides were ripped out through its throat.
He was staring at the goddess as she stood beside the lifeless creature, breathing heavily as its body flopped to the ground, and the manic glint in her eyes sent a shiver up his spine, her hands still gripping the intestines of the creature tightly.
She looked terrifying.
Loki’s stomach twisted as he watched her study the insides in her hand, and he gagged slightly as she dipped her head towards it, sinking her teeth into the red mess of flesh and muscle.
Someone threw up a few feet from him, and he pulled himself shakily to his feet, his hand clutching his bruised ribs as movement began around him.
No one spoke. They didn’t need to, he could feel the fear radiating off them, seeping out into the air like poison as they slowly began to advance hesitantly towards Raya.
Her eyes were closed, her body more relaxed than he had ever seen it as blood ran down her chin and over her chest, dripping onto the grass below her as she devoured the flesh hungrily.
He was still in shock from what he had seen, but his heart had slowed now, clearing his head just long enough for a thought to pass through his frenzied mind.
She really wasn’t trying to kill me.
It was clear now, just how easy she had been going on him when they had fought, and it was only just dawning on him how much danger he had truly been in.
She could’ve torn him to pieces if she’d wanted to.
The thought made his fingers clench around the chains that bound his hands, but before he could spiral further into the dark train of thought, a screaming cry filled the air, and Raya’s body stiffened as her eyes darted over to the team advancing on her.
The air shifted around him as Raya’s gaze roamed over them, the shaky breaths of seasoned agents and Avengers sending his head spinning, but then her heavy gaze was gone, fixed on a point behind their heads.
A shrill cry echoed from behind him, and then guns were firing at something he couldn’t see, the bodies around him suddenly surging into action.
An agent disappeared from beside him, and her panicked cry was drowned in an eerie laugh, followed a popping noise that made his stomach roil in disgust.
A flash of red light swept past him, and he was sent sprawling to the ground, his chains catching his feet, and he struggled against them as his eyes locked on the creature that had been standing behind him.
It was towering over him, its chest almost translucent as a golden glow swirled around inside it, and its beady eyes were narrowed in a primal rage, its snout coloured crimson, remnants of the agent’s armor resting between its pointed teeth as it shrieked again.
He rolled out of the way as its tail came crashing down next to him, a slithering mess of scales, and he could hear Raya shouting for the teams to get out of the way, but he couldn’t move.
Its talons came down inches from his head, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, his mind filling in the blanks as he watched great, scaly wings unfurl from the creature’s body.
Draki.
The word echoed through his mind, panicked as his head spun, the Midgardian translation tearing its way to the forefront of his mind as he scrabbled hopelessly at the ground.
Dragon.
The dragon’s eyes refocused on him, and he barely stopped its swipe towards his body, using the chains around his wrists to block its talons. He strained against the pressure, his arms shaking as it pressed forwards, its laughing cry reverberating through his head as he watched the molten fire in its throat begin to rise.
“Loki!” He heard Thor’s faint yell, but then the force became too much, and the beast’s foot pressed harshly into his chest, his breath ripped from his lungs as his hands struggled to keep it off him.
The dragon was laughing, laughing at him as his body was deprived of oxygen, and through his teary eyes, he could see it rearing its head back, preparing to douse him in flames.
There was a scream, full of rage, edged with madness, and then the weight of the dragon was gone, a blur of red light swallowing the creature in flames.
His skin prickled at the heat, and he grunted against gritted teeth, gasping for breath, but he barely got a moment of relief before he was pulled roughly to his feet by his chains, his body lurching forwards into an unsteady stance.
Raya’s eyes were flames, sparkling with anger, and his wrists began to burn as the chains melted from around them, but before he could speak, she pushed him harshly to the side, just in time for the creature to lunge at her and pull her to the ground.
Loki stumbled away, his heart racing as he watched her hands dig deeply into the dragon’s chest, sending molten fire over her writhing body, but while the creature screamed, she laughed.
She’s insane.
“Hold your fire, hold your fire!” Someone screamed, and his eyes darted over to Tony, his usually easy-going features contorted in panic as gun fire echoed all around him.
“You don’t give orders here, Stark!” Fury replied in a blistering tone, but then Tony was advancing on him, and Loki could hear the strained note of fear in his voice.
“You shoot her, and we die!”
Loki ducked out of the way as agents with guns swept past him, his heart thundering in his chest, but when another shriek met his ears, mingling with Raya’s angry screams, his head snapped back to the fight before him.
Another dragon had swooped in, its wings sending large clouds of dust up into the air, and Raya was pressed to the ground, her body glowing red as the creatures attempted to swipe at her.
She groaned in pain as a claw caught her side, tearing through her bodysuit, but then the dragon’s claw was melting in her hand, its laughing cry pitched up into a piercing screech.
“We have to help her!” He heard his brother yell over the sound of gunfire, but he was immediately cut off by Bruce, his voice torn by irritation.
“She never wanted our help!”
Loki’s eyes shifted to the man’s face, and he could see the faintest tendrils of green pressing into his skin, his jaw set as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Fear shot through him, his chest heaving as he tried to recover from the dragon’s attack. He could feel the bruises blossoming already, but his pain felt rather inferior as he watched a dragon’s blood drip onto Raya’s face.
The two dragons were screeching, and a whirring sound began to fill the air, echoing through his mind as Raya’s screams grew louder.
A sudden blast of red light blinded him, and the ground shook as the dragons were pushed back, falling over each other as they screamed.
The agents were yelling, their guns falling to the ground as they were knocked backwards by the burn, and Loki grunted in pain as he was forced into the tires of the overturned truck.
“Mori, proditor!” A language he didn’t know, falling from Raya’s lips in her rage, and through the searing bright light, he saw the dragons rear their heads back. “Ardere!”
Out of the corner of his eye, as his hand gripped at the metal of the truck to keep himself standing, he saw Nat’s head snap up in shock, but he didn’t have a moment to question it, his attention immediately pulled back the flash of scales and high-pitched laughter before him.
Bones were snapping, flesh was tearing, and as the red glow around Raya’s body intensified, the dragons were bathed in the bright light, screeching, writhing, fighting.
Nausea swept through Loki as he watched, his heart racing as Raya yelled and ripped a rib from deep within one of their chests.
She’s melting them together.
The goddess was on her feet now, and Loki’s heart wrenched as he caught a flash of bloodstained teeth; this was the first time he’d ever seen her smile, really smile, and the sight of it made his stomach turn over.
“Numquam ne in morte quiesces!” The words echoed through the trees, spat like a curse, and though Loki didn’t understand them, he understood the look of manic anger that tore harshly at Raya’s features. “Proditores throni!”
The dragons were shrieking as her hands pressed into their flesh, flames burning through the air, slowly melting together, their claws cutting into each other’s skin as they struggled to get free.
A final scream.
A shock of red light.
Ringing silence.
*
Erie, Pennsylvania.
1:34am, May 8th, 2012.
“Mori, proditor! Ardere!”
Die, traitor! Burn!
“Numquam ne in morte quiesces! Proditores throni!”
You will never rest in death! Traitors to the throne!
Latin. Of all the languages, Raya was screaming, angrily, loudly, in Latin.
The translations zipped through her head, quick even in her panic, and Nat gripped her gun tighter as a heavy silence descended upon them.
She peered out from behind the wheel of the overturned truck, and she could see the bodies of the creatures lying burnt and disfigured, twitching in the last of their death throes.
They were large, perhaps slightly bigger than the truck she was kneeling behind, and their wings were singed by Raya’s powers, their heads now rolling back onto the grass as blood dripped from the many scratches left by the goddess.
Her eyes settled on the noticeably smaller figure kneeling between the still bodies, and she forced herself to swallow hard, her mouth uncomfortably dry.
Raya’s body was trembling, her hands resting on her raised knee as her head remained bowed, her blood riddled hair coming to fall around her face.
She didn’t seem as if she was intent upon moving, and Nat slowly got to her feet, her gun held down by her side as she nodded towards the agents around her.
“I will not hesitate to kill you if this happens again."
"Good. At least you have common sense."
Her threat to Raya seemed so long ago now, but it played around her head, feeling almost childishly ignorant.
Raya wouldn’t let herself be killed, no matter how sincere she had seemed.
Nat could see Thor moving with her, his hand pressed roughly into Loki’s shoulder, keeping him close out of protectiveness or irritation, she didn’t know, but the look of fear on his face did nothing to comfort her.
Her hand was trembling on her gun, but she focused all her willpower on aiming it towards Raya’s shaking figure, watching as the red glow faded from around her.
If the goddess wanted out, she would just have to run.
She had to have known none of them had any hope of containing her. She’d melted her chains and crushed her destabilizer with what looked like an astonishingly little amount of effort. Nat had watched it break and had felt her heart thundering in her ears just as it was now.
If any of these men died because of the goddess, their names would be added to the tally of deaths that she had caused. Already, the unnamed and unknown agents who had been blown to pieces by the Kleviah’s first attack had slid into place inside her mind.
She’d defended Raya. No matter what she told Steve, she knew she’d gone out of her way to defend her and strongarm Fury into following the woman’s plan.
Any deaths that came from confronting the goddess were her fault.
Clint had sidled up to her silently, his bow gripped tightly in his hand as he aimed an arrow towards Raya’s skull.
She couldn’t help the slight rush of relief that hit her at his closeness, comfort in a familiar face steadying her finger on the trigger of her gun.
“This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for.”
God, what she wouldn’t give to be back in that room with him, reassuring him that everything he’d done under Loki’s control wasn’t his fault. It had barely been a week ago, and yet she could almost laugh at herself for feeling scared then.
She didn’t let her fear show on her face, but as Clint gave her a quick sideways glance, she knew he felt it too.
As a thrill of dread shot through her, she refocused her eyes on Raya, only to find the woman already staring back at her, her expression tight, her features coated in streaks of dried blood.
There were tears in her dark eyes, and her shoulders were shaking slightly as her fingers dug into the fabric of her bodysuit, quiet laughs falling from her lips, and Nat cursed at herself as a modicum of sympathy flitted through her heart.
Nat and Clint paused a few feet from her, and Nat held up her hand to stop the advancing agents, sending a glare towards Nick as he glowered at her.
“Raya?” Clint said, his voice calming, and the goddess’ head turned towards him slowly, her unsettling laughter fading as she forced breath into her lungs.
“They will be back for me.” Raya said, her voice cold, her eyes harsh. “There will be more, but for now, they are gone.”
Her voice cracked slightly as she glanced at the torn bodies, but Nat couldn’t distinguish whether it was anger or regret that tinted her soft words.
Clint flinched almost imperceptibly as Raya swiftly moved her hands upwards, and Nat’s grip on her gun tightened, but then a swishing sound met her ears, and she looked back just in time to see Raya’s gloves soaring through the air towards her.
“I am… sorry for your men.” Raya said, her eyes now locking on Fury, and Nat watched a distrusting sense of shock settle on his face. “I should have noticed their presence sooner.”
Nat didn’t bother to offer her hand as Raya got to her feet, a soft hiss escaping her lips as her gloves slipped over her hands, but she regarded her apprehensively as the goddess turned to her, her eyes cast down.
Raya lifted her hands, palms facing the sky, and stilled, as if waiting for her to do something, and Nat looked at Clint, seeing her feelings of confusion reflected in his face.
After a few moments, Raya looked up, her eyes narrowed as they searched the faces surrounding her before returning her gaze to Nat’s face.
“I assumed you would have more restraints.” Raya said, her voice edged with concern, and a jolt of shock moved through Nat’s system as she realized what the goddess was asking her to do.
“Oh.” Her words came out in a breath as she glanced behind her, and an agent stepped forwards, holding his handcuffs up with a shaking hand, averting his eyes from Raya’s bloodied form.
Nat took care not to brush Raya’s gloved hands with her fingertips as she slipped the cuffs around her hands, and she blinked in confusion when she heard a relieved breath pass from the woman’s lips.
A rustle and an irritated groan from beside her told her that Loki had been cuffed as well, and she pushed her gun deep into the holster as she allowed Raya to move past her.
The goddess was muttering softly to herself, and Nat couldn’t make out many of the words, but the few that met her ears did nothing to soothe her rattled nerves.
Combusta, sepulta, sanguinea.
Burnt, buried, bloody.
She jumped slightly as she felt Clint’s hand on her shoulder, tugging her gently closer, and a shaky breath passed through her lips at the familiarity as Fury clapped his hands loudly, beginning to shout to the agents around them.
“Someone get another truck out here! Now, go!”
“Do you think she knows?” Nat said softly, and Clint’s grip tightened on her shoulder as they began to walk back towards one of the remaining trucks.
“No.” Clint answered simply, and Nat’s eyes were drawn back to Raya, watching as the woman looked through the remnants of their previous truck, her eyes still bright with unshed tears as her hand wrapped around her muzzle. “I don’t think she has any idea how frightened we are.”
Natasha watched as Raya fixed the muzzle around her face, struggling slightly as her hands were tied, and the look of resigned anger on her face as she tightened the muzzle until it looked painful made Nat’s stomach clench uncomfortably.
As Nat pulled herself up into the truck Fury had offered them, she was instantly met with Steve’s unrelenting gaze, and she could read the unspoken words etched into his grim expression.
“I told you so.”
She bit her tongue to stay quiet, moving past him quickly, and her eyes flicked to Tony, returning the questioning head tilt he sent her with a half-hearted nod.
She couldn’t make herself sit next to Raya like she had on the journey up here. The idea made her want to be sick, and she could barely even look at the goddess, only able to see the wicked smile that had passed over her lips as she’d torn out one of the creature’s ribs.
Instead, she remained standing as the agents began to call to each other outside, letting her gaze move over to the place Loki and Thor were sitting, wanting to replace the horrible feeling in her chest with anything else.
Loki’s eyes were narrowed dangerously as he stared across from him, over to where she knew Raya was sitting, and she could almost scoff.
Was he jealous of how powerful she was? Would they have to deal with an attempted escape, with him trying to prove he was somehow better?
It wasn’t until she watched his fingers begin to pick at his skin, his gaze unwaveringly cold, that she realized he wasn’t jealous.
The sight of the God of Mischief looking afraid did not calm her nerves in the slightest.
Chapter 7: Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?
Summary:
hey guys, I'm back again with another longer chapter! I finished this after listening to Taylor Swift's new album (The Tortured Poet's Department is quite literally me) and had to post before school started for the week, so I hope you enjoy! There's more of the two actual love interests interacting (it was bound to happen sometime), and I am happy to report that not a single person in this fic can experience a regular emotion!
As always, I wish you well, and happy reading! <3
chapter title from Who's Afraid of Little Old Me - Taylor Swift.
Chapter Text
Cleveland, Ohio.
S.H.I.E.L.D Base #98
3:12am, May 8th, 2012.
She would not let herself sleep.
Raya had never particularly enjoyed sleep; it was a cold, desolate thing, and when it wasn’t empty, it was painfully interwoven with memories she didn’t know.
Memories so real that she had to assume they were her own.
She didn’t let her eyes wander either, as she sat on the cool metal bench fastened to the wall in the truck. Everyone, all of them, were regarding her with a strange sense of panic or disdain.
She’d expected it, really, and it wasn’t as if was unusual; on her own planet, cool expressions of irritation were normal, masks of neutrality fashioned from acceptance worn like badges of honour.
However, the dread slowly pressing to her heart, bubbling up into her lungs and constricting her breath, was hard to ignore.
Her mind had dived too deeply into the punishments she would receive for her actions; would they try to cut her? Let her hang bleeding from a high ceiling, as her mother had done more times than she could count?
Her body still bore the gashes from her fight; slowly, the heat from her body was cauterising the wounds from the Kleviah, but her head still spun from the blood loss.
A stupid weakness.
She didn’t speak up because she knew it would be stupid. They would know she was hurt and if they wanted to help her, they would have.
Not that she expected it. She had been left with far worse injuries before, ones that she had needed to fix herself, ones borne from tests and trials made to make her perfect.
“My greatest soldier.”
There had only been one person who had ever helped her.
She squeezed her eyes shut against the memories, gritting her teeth behind the muzzle that muted her grunt of pain.
She couldn’t even remember the girl’s name now. She had tried thousands of times to picture her face, but it had slipped like the burning sands of Cirica through her mind, leaving nothing to latch onto.
She still didn’t know if she was real, or a figment borne from her delirium after battles and torment she couldn’t fathom anymore.
They all blended so easily, the memories.
Drea.
Her head ached from the name, ached from the force of the memory, and she clenched her fists tightly as she forced slow breaths through her lungs.
The memories, they were nothing but suffering. They would only break free and hurt everyone around her, everyone who didn’t deserve it.
A sudden glow blossomed behind her eyes, and her eyelids fluttered open, searching for the source of the light.
Loki was staring at her, his eyes narrowed in displeasure, but his gaze was sharpened by something she didn’t recognise. Maybe she had seen it in Clint’s expression before, a strange emotion she didn’t understand.
However, his eyes were not the source of the glow, and she glanced down at his hands, bound together by metal but seemingly empty.
She tilted her head in confusion and saw his eyes dart around to the surrounding Avengers before he sat forwards slightly, opening his palm.
Her soft gasp of surprise was muffled by her muzzle as sparkling lights ignited over his skin, whisps of green glittering in the air, swirling around like storm clouds.
Curiosity burned through her, and her eyes travelled up his arm, noticing the soldiers had neglected to place a destabiliser around his wrist.
A strange oversight. Why did they suddenly trust him to stay now, after taking so many precautions before?
The lights were gone just as quickly as they had appeared, and when she looked back up, Loki was no longer looking at her, his gaze cast disinterestedly out the window.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bruce eyeing him suspiciously, but Loki made no move to show he had noticed, simply refolding his hands in front of him.
Raya sat back slightly, watching Loki with slightly widened eyes, wondering why he’d thought to show her his magic.
He clearly didn’t want to be caught doing it, but then why had he tried?
Something like a smile tugged at her lips, and she blinked the tears in her eyes away as she dropped her gaze from his relaxed form.
She didn’t understand why everyone seemed to be trying to… make her feel better? That couldn’t be what it was, but then why were they doing it?
Why had Clint brought her the mortal mush and talked to her, if he wasn’t trying to poison her? Why had Thor’s eyes glinted so dangerously when one of the agents had questioned her prayers? Why did Nat feed her water, saying she hadn’t seen her drink since her breakfast with Thor? Why did Loki show her sparkles of light, when he’d been so angry the last time they had spoken?
She lifted her hands to her head, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips.
It wasn’t even a human tendency. Thor and Loki had made it clear they weren’t human, made it clear they weren’t mortal, so she had assumed they would act like her.
Why were they being strange?
Another memory flitted through her mind at her questions, a girl kneeling beside her as she laid out on the ground, pressing a wet cloth to her forehead as she mouthed something Raya couldn’t fathom.
Stupid.
Her tongue flicked between her teeth, cleaning the blood from them, and her stomach growled quietly yet again as her head ached.
The first bite to the Klevia’s throat had been heavenly; it had been so long since she’d felt the smooth pump of blood as flesh tore apart, and she’d forgotten how wonderful the thrill could be, to feel something flailing helplessly in her hands.
The mortal food wasn’t bad, and she hadn’t tasted anything quite like it before, but her mind always wandered back to the hunts on her planet, rushing through sand dunes and burnt trees to tear through the hearts of boars and adolescent Kleviah.
Her nose scrunched as she pulled herself from her thoughts, and she shifted uncomfortably, earning a quick look from Nat.
She easily caught the way her hand hovered over her gun, waiting for a reason.
She set her jaw, though she chided herself for being disappointed. They had no reason to give her the benefit of the doubt, not after what she had just done. She was surprised they hadn’t shot her, but maybe they were simply waiting until they reached another place, somewhere she couldn’t be heard.
She mused over the possibilities of her torture, and only looked up again when the truck stopped, a sharp thrill of fear cutting through her as the now familiar sway of the vehicle came to a halt.
“Charlston! Get your team to med bay, and Henderson, stay with Stark!”
Doors opened all around her, and her heart was thrumming in her ears as someone’s hand wrapped around the chains on her wrists, tightened around the handcuffs.
Thor gave her a soft smile as he pulled her to her feet, and the warmth in it made her recoil; why was he looking at her like that? Like she deserved it?
She was forced beside Loki as they stepped down from the truck, and the movement all around them lapsed as she glanced at faces she didn’t know, some half hidden in masks, others marred by scratches or burn marks.
Guilt caused her chest to tighten, but she refused to turn her gaze to the floor, her every nerve burning, keeping her back straightened as her mind ticked, the wound in her side aching.
She was exhausted, and a small part of her hoped that she would be too tired to feel the pain would inflict on her, but she knew it wouldn’t.
She’d been torn, broken, cut, burned, but that only meant she wasn’t naïve anymore.
Whatever they did, she would feel every moment of it, and she wasn’t sure she was in any state to stifle her screams.
They would get the joy of listening to her cry.
She walked without really seeing, letting herself be led through metal hallways and down silver stairs, flinching each time Loki’s arm accidentally brushed hers.
She couldn’t burn him again.
She didn’t know why she didn’t want to see that horrified look rip apart Thor’s face, didn’t understand why the muffled screams as Loki’s body writhed under her fingertips brought her so much shame when they echoed around her head.
As they paused in front of a large, shining door, she took her chance to distance herself from Loki, her hands clenching around her chains.
He didn’t look her way, and neither did Thor, as he was too busy fumbling with a chain of keys to notice the breath of relief that slipped from her lips.
“Mortals… such small devices…” she heard Thor murmur to himself as he finally slid a key into the lock, and a wave of nausea swept through her as the click dragged several memories to the forefront of her mind.
Blood was dripping onto her face, and it stung each time it hit her cracked lips. The hands that held her were burning again, as they had been for the past hours, on and off, on and off, waiting for her to let her guard down before they struck.
A click echoed through the room, and the blood began to drown her, her head pushed deep under the substance as she thrashed violently.
It was filling her lungs, but the world wasn’t going dark, she was still fighting, still screaming as the hands on her began to dig deep into her skin.
A tug on her chains ripped her from the memory and she looked up, sucking in a shaky breath as she was pulled into the dark room, hating the concern lacing Thor’s features as he glanced at her.
Fake, fake, fake, fake-
Loki’s bright eyes were trained on her now, his body tensed as Thor slowly wandered around the room, each click of the lights making her flinch, but she ignored the burn of his gaze in favour of the room now being brightened before her.
It was rather decrepit, the walls brown and splashed with stains she couldn’t comprehend, and the wooden floor creaked each time Thor took a step. It was quite a stark contrast to the mess of metal that encircled her within Tony’s tower, but that didn’t relax her.
Her hand twitched on her side as Thor looked back at them, dropping a bag she only now noticed onto the floor before straightening up with an eerily warm smile on his face.
She swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to comprehend their circumstances. This didn’t look like the rooms used for punishment on her planet, but so much about Earth was different that she hadn’t expected any less.
Loki stiffened as Thor approached him, his eyes narrowing, but if Thor noticed, he didn’t say anything, removing his brother’s muzzle smoothly before turning slowly to her.
Loki rubbed his jaw silently, glaring at the muzzle as Thor loosened the chains around his wrists, and he moved quickly to the opposite side of the room, as far from the other two as he could be.
Raya watched Thor with confused eyes, and her breathing stuttered in panic as he reached for her head, but at the soft sound of the clip around her face coming undone, she blinked rapidly.
Thor leaned back, a placating smile still on his lips as he tossed her muzzle to the floor, and she cracked her jaw, looking towards Loki as he sat with his back to the corner of the room.
Smart.
“I’ll be back to get you after the briefing with S.H.I.E.L.D.” Thor said as he undid her chains, and her fists clenched immediately as she tilted her head in surprise.
“Both of us?” She questioned, and Thor looked at her strangely, a laugh falling from his lips before he met her eyes and realized she was serious.
“Well- Yes. We aren’t going to leave either of you here.” He said, throwing her and Loki’s chains over his shoulder easily.
She eyed him with confusion, her mind trying to piece together his words, wondering if she was missing something.
“So, you don’t want me to kill him?” She asked seriously, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loki’s head snap over to them as Thor jolted in front of her.
She didn’t want to hurt him, not after she had just told him she was sorry for trying, but she wouldn’t have a choice if she was ordered to.
She briefly wondered how it would feel to watch the betrayal dance across his panicked features as she snapped his neck, and her stomach turned over with guilt.
“What- no! Why would I-” Thor said, sounding almost scandalised as he cut through her thoughts, though she had no idea why, and he took a step back from her. “No, please don’t kill my brother, Raya.”
She furrowed her brows in contemplation as she massaged her wrists, the new red marks from the chains merely enhancing the older ones.
“Then why are we here?”
Thor blinked, pausing as if he was waiting for her to say something else, but she remained in silence, watching him curiously.
“To rest. We’ll come get both you and Loki when we need you again, which will only be an hour or two from now.” Thor said, his words slow, and her face tightened into a frown as he moved towards the door. “You aren’t- Don’t kill each other.”
The last part was added in an almost exasperated tone, as if he couldn’t believe he had to say it, but she didn’t understand what he was talking about.
“…Okay.” She said unsurely as he unlocked the door, and then his pitying smile was back, making her bite the inside of her cheek to stop her words.
“Just…” Thor said, glancing between her and Loki as he closed the door, his face still visible through the bars. “Stay safe, and rest. Both of you.”
Then she blinked, and he was gone.
A rustle from behind her made her head snap over to Loki, watching as he slowly pulled items from the bag Thor had left on the floor; several pieces of cloth, two water bottles, an orange liquid, and some mortal food she didn’t recognise.
Loki scoffed as he rifled through the bag, his long legs resting languidly before him as he leant back against the wall.
“You’d think the Avengers could afford a decent meal.” He muttered, more to himself than her, and as she moved to the wall opposite him, she watched as he shook a small container, the contents rattling around inside. “Nuts and bread.”
A slight hiss of pain slipped from between Raya’s lips as she sat down, and her hand pressed gingerly into the mess of blood along her side, a flare of pain tinting the edges of her vison black.
Loki’s eyes drifted almost lazily over to her, and she forced herself to sit up straighter, swallowing the cry that cut at her throat as her flesh seared.
He didn’t say anything, but his jaw tightened slightly, his eyes darting down to where her hand rested.
His stoic expression did not waver, however, and the lack of sympathy in his unrelenting gaze soothed her.
His hand slowly moved into the bag again, and her shoulders tightened in anticipation, waiting for a weapon to appear, but he only drew out one of the pieces of cloth, running it through his fingers.
“Are you hurt?” He asked, his voice lilting up into an annoyed drawl, and Raya narrowed her eyes as she watched him toy with the fabric.
The glimmer in his bright eyes felt like a taunt, but his face didn’t shift, and as the wound pulsed painfully, she nodded her head begrudgingly.
“Pity.” He said, and with a quick flick of his wrist, the fabric was floating towards her in a flash of green light.
She flinched away from it as it landed on the floor beside her, her eyes darting towards him as questions flickered to life inside her mind, and he sighed loudly.
“It’s a bandage, Raya.” His voice didn’t offer any warmth, and he looked away from her to continue fiddling with the container of mortal food. “It will help.”
She watched him with disbelieving eyes, ignoring the steady ebb of pain along her side, and when she didn’t move, Loki simply scoffed.
“Believe me or don’t.” He murmured, and she caught the quick roll of his eyes as he popped open the lid. “By all means, bleed out before me.”
“Believe me, or don’t, the choice is yours.”
His words from days ago ran through her mind as he unknowingly echoed them, and the memory of his raised arms and placating expression made her slowly reach for the fabric.
As she closed her hand around it, a wave of warmth rushed through her, and the pain in her side lessened slightly.
Ignoring the smug look that crossed Loki’s features, she reached up around her neck, unhooking the fabric of her bodysuit and sliding it down her arms, gritting her teeth to keep her hiss of pain quiet.
The fabric around her chest remained tight as she slid her bodysuit down her side, and she quickly wiped the dried blood from her skin to examine the wound.
The Klevia hadn’t caught her too harshly, and she had received worse injuries from their kind before, but her body didn’t seem to be healing as quickly as it usually did. Perhaps it was the mortal air, or perhaps she had been weakened by her outburst, she couldn’t be sure.
She pressed the bandage into her side, and immediately, a rush of relief washed through her as green light shimmered around her fingers.
Her eyes darted up to Loki, forcing her eyes to narrow into a glare, but he wasn’t looking at her, simply popping nuts into his mouth one at a time.
Her mind cleared as the pain gradually began to decline, watching with interest as the bandage pulsed a spectacular shade of green, and she released a shaky breath, leaning her head back against the wall.
Maybe he was poisoning her, but as bliss flooded her nerves, she found it exceedingly hard to care.
Silence fell between them, and eventually she tilted her head back up, her eyes finding his as he undid the cap of a water bottle.
He quirked an eyebrow in question, and she watched him for another moment, her hand pressing the reddening piece of cloth harshly into her side, before she murmured,
“Why are you helping me?”
Loki’s hand paused on the bottle, dropping her gaze as his back straightened, and she heard him sigh softly.
“I don’t like corpses.” He said finally, his tone sardonic, but as he drank deeply from the water bottle, his relaxed expression flickered for the briefest moment. “And I don’t relish the idea of staring at one for the next few hours.”
Raya couldn’t be sure if she’d imagined the slight waver in his voice.
She shifted slightly, accepting his reply, groaning softly as the small smattering of cuts along her jaw began to heal over.
Apparently, whatever magic Loki had placed on the bandage was healing her, and quickly.
She could feel his eyes on her, but her throat was aching too much to add anything more to their dying conversation. She closed her eyes against the pain as her skin throbbed beneath her fingertips, trying to drown out the echoes in her mind with the quiet tap of Loki’s fingers against the wooden floor.
*
Cleveland, Ohio.
S.H.I.E.L.D Base #98
3:36am, May 8th, 2012.
“She was right.”
Fury sounded almost angry about it, but Thor didn’t bother to comment on his tone, his eyes following the man as he paced the room.
“We’ve got reports coming in from all over- sightings of something in the skies, burning buildings, missing people.” Fury continued, his hands folded behind his back, and Thor’s eyes flicked to the faces of the other Avengers.
Nat’s face was pale, the fingers of her bandaged hand flexing and unflexing in time with the steady clink of Barton’s arrows against the glass tabletop. Tony was typing furiously with one hand, his other pressed to his chest as the computer’s screen blinked before him. Steve was watching Fury move, his expression shadowed, his lips pulled into a grimace, while Bruce’s eyes were dark and narrowed as he tapped his fingers repeatedly against his glasses.
The tense atmosphere reminded him of the death of Phil Coulson. How they had been simmering with rage, minds wrought with distress as they turned their anger on his brother.
Now, however, there was no clear target for their panic. Only uncertainty and fear.
“A plane went down just over the Atlantic, hit by one of those things.” Fury said, still pacing, and Thor sat forwards, swallowing hard as an Earthen map appeared before them. “Last sighting has them headed east. She was right, they’re spreading.”
“A breeding ground.” Thor muttered, his eyes moving across the map, and Fury scoffed as he shook his head, pausing to stare up at the empty map.
“Raya said they would be back for her.” Tony cut in, looking up from his computer with his eyes narrowed. “But these things, they’re diverting across the ocean.”
“She scared them off.”
When Thor spoke, his voice was low, but still, every head turned toward him instantly, and he set his jaw at their attention.
“Her powers, she used them as an intimidation display. The way she was glowing, it wasn’t hurting them. It was a threat, and when they attacked, she made good on the promise.” He continued, the burn of every eye on him familiar, and he straightened in his chair as he fixed his eyes on Fury. “The three she killed were never going to be the only ones. This problem, it can’t be fixed with one battle.”
Silence fell around him, and his eyes flicked from one paling face to another, his own heart sinking at his words.
Even if he knew them to be true, even if he had deduced it from the fight, that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
He had now learnt the price of being right, and the very thought of it made him feel ill.
“What are you suggesting we do?” Fury spoke up, the look on his face bordering on respectful as he kept his tone level.
Perhaps the man felt uneasy for how harshly he had snapped at him earlier, but Thor wasn’t one for grudges. Not anymore.
“Without Raya here herself, I can’t be certain.” He said, the mention of the Goddess’s name seeming to set off a collective flinch within the group. “But I say we follow them.”
No outward protests, but many of the grim faces around him tightened, and he sat back in his chair, forcing his own expression to remain blank.
“If they’re finding a nesting place, we’ll know about it soon.” He continued, but when he heard an incredulous scoff met his ears, he turned, his eyes flicking up to find the source.
“Yeah, the trail of dead bodies will be easy to follow.” Bruce muttered, and Thor set his jaw.
“We cannot help these casualties.” Nat said, her expression grim as she glanced towards Banner.
“Those things are here for her.” Bruce’s voice was laced with a hint of anger, his eyes darkening as he got to his feet. “There seems to be one logical course of action to take.”
An eerie silence descended upon the group, and it took a few seconds for the meaning behind Banner’s words to register in his mind.
Tony got there first, however, and suddenly his computer was slammed shut, a humourless laugh falling from his lips as his eyes narrowed in anger.
“You want her dead, Banner? Be my guest, go give it a try.” Tony spat, the smile on his face unsettling. “See what happens.”
The two men glared at each other, and Thor sat back slightly in his chair, his muscles tensing as he fought to keep himself calm.
Though reckless in his youth, the anger simmering within him would do no use now. These were supposed to be his teammates, and it would do nothing but drive them further apart if they continued to argue like children.
“If you take away their target, there is no telling what they will do.” Steve cut in, stepping forwards to stand between the two, and even though he sounded less than pleased at the assessment, Thor nodded his head towards the Captain, grateful of his support. “Without that point of focus, they could very well turn on the people.”
“Even more so than they already have?” Nick said, but while his voice still held the familiar taunting tone, the fight seemed to have left his words.
“We can’t be everywhere at once, Director.” Clint chimed in, his arrows now securely resting in the quiver over his shoulder. “We still don’t even know how many there are, and we need Raya. She knows more about them than we ever will.”
Nick was rubbing his temple, his eyes squeezed shut, and Thor watched as his expression shifted between irritation and consideration.
Instead of addressing Clint however, the Director’s next words went to Natasha, who jolted slightly from being addressed, her hand still gripping her bandaged wrist tightly.
“Evaluation, now.”
Natasha stepped forwards, and as she lifted her head, Thor noticed that her eyes were slightly glazed over, wider than they should’ve been as she steadied herself against the edge of the table.
“Raya’s been trained, and well.” She said, and her voice was flat, almost robotic. “She executed specific manoeuvres repeatedly, which gives me the impression she’s been under drills, perhaps in the same way our soldiers are.”
Thor nodded to himself as Nat spoke; from what little of Raya he could make out during the fight, she’d fought with an efficiency and sense of ruthlessness that rivalled that of the Einherjar.
However, while her actions contained all the hallmarks of a trained fighter, she had lacked the neutrality so often needed for focus during battle. Perhaps it had only been because she was facing a familiar enemy, one she was confident she could beat, but she’d seemed to take pleasure in the pain of the Kleviah.
The thought, having crossed his mind a hundred times now, no longer frightened him, but served to keep him wary.
“Her fighting style was different tonight.” Natasha continued, her voice still dead, and he glanced up interestedly.
When had she seen Raya fight before?
“She was wild and reckless, though that apparently did nothing to negatively affect her. When she fought-” A slight breath, a look to Tony, a glance towards him, “Loki, she was much more focused. Her movements were smooth, calculated. It was as if she could see his next move before he made it.”
Thor’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair as anger rolled through him – what did she mean, when she fought Loki?
Once again, however, his words were cut off as someone beat him to the punch.
“When she what?” Bruce snapped, his eyes cutting over to Natsha, who seemed to be steeling herself for a fight.
“It was my idea, Jade Jaws, so if you’re going to go nuclear, direct it at the right person.” Tony quipped quickly as he got to his feet, his fists clenching.
“You made two gods, both proven risks and clearly unstable, fight? Are you really that stupid, Tony?” Bruce said angrily, and Thor was on his feet, silently agreeing with his words as he held up his hand to stop Tony’s advance.
“Enough!” He said, his low voice filling the room easily, rumbling through the air in a mimic of the thunder that earned him his title. “What’s done is done; there is no use arguing about it now.”
He turned to face Tony, watching as the man’s face twitched, the only outward sign of his fear, but he simply shook his head.
“However, I would’ve appreciated being informed of this earlier, Stark.”
Tony had the decency to look ashamed, but he still held his head high, his eyes shifting to glare at Bruce before meeting Thor’s again.
“I know, I’m sorry, we should’ve said something.” A meaningful apology, sincerity in his eyes.
Thor tilted his head in appreciation, and Tony backed away, returning to his seat, and reopening his computer. Thor turned his eyes to Banner, who was still seething, his eyes narrowed.
“You need to figure out how to control yourself.” Thor said, his voice even as he glared over at him. “We can only deal with this as it progresses. We are all worried about the issue, but acting childishly will not help us figure out anything faster.”
A brief flicker of defiance behind the man’s eyes, but then Bruce sagged, his head drooping as he moved back to his chair, his expression defeated.
“You were saying, Romanoff?” Thor said pointedly, and Natasha blinked at him, apparently surprised at his ability to defuse the situation so quickly.
“Right. Well, it is obvious that she is extremely powerful, even without the addition of her magical abilities, which seem to be a sort of telepathy.”
Thor stood at the head of the table now, to his seat, crossing his arms and nodding along to Natasha’s analysis.
It had to be a strong form of memory manipulation, but he wasn’t sure. He’d only had her pull forwards several memories from his life, but she didn’t infect them with anything, and it certainly hadn’t hurt him.
However, when it came to Raya, he found it was best never to underestimate her. He couldn’t recall being shocked so consistently over anyone else before.
Tony’s breath hitched, and Thor’s head snapped over to him, watching his eyes widen, his mouth pulled in a tight line.
“We have another sighting.” He said, cutting through Natasha’s words with an apologetic look, but the woman merely nodded, immediately retreating to the corner that hid Barton. “‘Golden lava on hills in Ireland sends rural area up in flames’.”
“They’re already in Europe.” Bruce said quietly, and then he cursed under his breath as he massaged his temples.
“We need to go after them, now.” Steve spoke up, and Thor saw that his face was drawn, his eyes steeled over as he stepped forwards.
“We can’t go by air. They’ll blow us out of the sky.” Tony muttered, his fingers moving furiously over his keyboard.
Thor gritted his teeth, his eyes cast down as he considered their options.
They could wait for the Kleviah to find a breeding ground and cost hundreds of civilians their lives in the meantime, or try and track them down now, possibly ending up lost.
They couldn’t wait. He certainly couldn’t.
“We’ll need boats.” Clint said, his hand resting on the small of Natasha’s back as he glanced at Fury, who looked less than pleased as he nodded.
“Worst case scenario, we use Raya as bait.” Steve said matter-of-factly, and even as Thor bristled at the implications, he found himself nodding. “She seems to be able to handle herself when it comes to these things.”
The dread that spread through Thor’s chest wasn’t exactly unexpected. This could affect the entire world, and internally, he cursed everyone who had ever touched the Tesseract for bringing such powers to Midgard.
The fate of millions rested in their hands, and as his heartbeat echoed through his head, he barely heard it as Fury beckoned for him to follow his steps, the familiar ache of tortuous responsibility weighing him down yet again.
*
Cleveland, Ohio.
S.H.I.E.L.D Base #98
3:55am, May 8th, 2012.
Emotions. Terrible, fickle, painful things they often were.
Loki hated them, hated their torturously complicated formation in his mind.
They were so aggravatingly human that it made him want to tear his eyes from their sockets, want to rip his skin off his body and scrub it clean.
However, he simply watched as Raya’s head tilted back and pressed against the wall, crossing his arms over himself as his head ached.
Her question was swirling around his head, and a million replies were hanging off the tip of his tongue, some making his heart clench, making his jaw set itself in annoyance.
“You would do the same for me.”
No, she wouldn’t, and how could he know that?
Except she had. She had comforted him in his panic, she’d cost herself her power as he’d yelled at her. She’d flooded his mind with precious memories, memories he locked away for himself, and yet, when rage flared in his heart at the intrusion of privacy, he couldn’t put any force behind it.
“You saved me.”
She had, apparently more than once. She’d spared his life and had run headfirst into danger to throw him out of the way. She’d done it without thinking, all while he had been trembling from fear.
“Because I don’t want you to die.”
Why did he care? If she died, what would it matter? He didn’t know her, didn’t want to know her, and yet somehow, he now owed her his life.
His nails dug into his forearms as he stared at her, the slow rise and fall of her chest inciting an irritating emotion within him. It was as if she wasn’t even trying to stay alive.
“Stay awake.” He said, his voice edged with annoyance, harsher than he’d thought it would be, but if his sudden speech surprised her, she did not show it.
“I cannot sleep.” She answered simply, her voice light, slightly breathy, and the softness of it made him twitch with agitation.
“Good. Don’t.” He said, his voice halting after each word, his eyes darting over the other wounds along her body as her skin rippled.
The burn marks he’d noticed on the day she arrived were still present, running along the bottom of her stomach and up towards her chest. Bruises appeared and faded under his gaze, cuts tracing lines along her arms and around her shoulders. Faded scars decorated her skin, some peaked, others smoothed, and he couldn’t seem to stop staring at them.
More questions sprung to life in his mind, but he simply pressed his hand to his own chest, his fingers tracing the mark she’d burnt into his skin through the fabric of his clothes.
We match.
He pulled his eyes away from the burns on her chest, reaching down to grip the water bottle tightly in his hand, needing something to clear his mind.
Raya shifted slightly, her hand pressing harder into her abdomen, and he watched as his magic faded from the cloth he’d given her, turning from a bright shade of emerald to a weak tint of turquoise.
He fought to tear his eyes away from her, irritated at his own curiosity, only to catch his gaze on hers.
The intensity of her eyes still made his mouth dry; it was as if she could see every memory, every moment, every thought he’d ever had, as if she could pluck them out one by one and lay them out for all to see.
The idea of it made panic surge within him, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away.
“I am not weak.” Raya murmured suddenly, her voice edged with a challenge, and Loki blinked, confusion sweeping through him at her words.
“I never said you were.” He said, not attempting to soften his voice as he regarded her with a well-practiced mask of neutrality. “Perhaps an insecurity of yours?”
He couldn’t help it, the antagonizing tone, almost hoping to probe her into action, anything if he could escape the magnetism of her gaze.
If it bothered her, he wouldn’t know it.
“Your eyes betray you.” She said, and Loki felt his blood run cold. “You hold too much emotion in them. You pity me, but I am not weak.”
Her voice was cold, but there was a hint of something like desperation in her tone. He didn’t know why, but she seemed almost afraid.
Did she not understand what she had just done? Did she not know that a confirmed fear was now racing through the veins of every Avenger, the fear that they were truly out matched and out of their depth?
The fear that they could never really control her.
“I do not pity you.” He said, turning his head away, his heart in his throat. “And I am not foolish enough to think you weak.”
Raya didn’t speak for a moment, and he had the distinct feeling that if he looked back at her now, her expression would be laced with shock.
“Good.” Raya said, her voice quiet. “Don’t.”
The echo of his own words caused his lips to quirk upwards slightly, but he made sure to keep his head down so she wouldn’t notice.
He knocked over one of the water bottles and rolled it towards her, staring at the dirt-streaked wood that made up the floor as he listened to the plastic crinkle against it.
His eyes flicked up for a moment, and once he’d realised that Raya’s gaze was turned away from him, now fixed disdainfully on the water bottle, he lifted his head again.
“Its water. Drink it.”
It wasn’t a command, but the way she immediately straightened, her eyes narrowing at the sound the plastic made in her hand as she dropped the cloth against her side to the floor, made him blink in surprise.
She twisted the cap cautiously, and the slight tremble in her hands caused some of it to spill over onto her skin, something that made her tense in fear.
Loki tilted his head slightly to the side as he watched her, observing the way her expression tightened as she pressed her fingers to the place the water had landed on her wrist.
She rubbed at the spot, and the dried blood along her wrist began to clear, something that drew an appreciative breath from between her lips.
A strange sense of warmth swelled in his chest as he watched her, and he narrowed his eyes as he quickly looked away.
“Will you live?” He asked, his voice dry as he rolled an almond between his fingers, and the slight rasp in her voice made his chest tighten.
“Yes. I have endured worse. The Kleviah, they are dangerous, but their powers rest in presentation.”
Raya coughed, and he glanced up long enough to see her pressing her fingers tenderly to her throat.
He crushed the almond between his fingers as he nodded his head slightly, and she continued.
“They are supposed to frighten, and those, they were only juveniles. They were testing my strength before finding a resting place.”
She sounded so certain that curiosity swept through him, and the words fell from his lips so quickly that he felt he’d hardly thought them at all.
“How do you know?”
He wasn’t supposed to ask questions. He didn’t care, he didn’t want to know.
Raya fixed him with a strange look as she pulled herself off the wall into a sitting position, still squeezing her water bottle in her hand as she winced quietly.
“I helped raise them.” She said, her voice slightly harsh, though he knew it wasn’t meant for him. “They always send three first. One for the initial attack, then two others to flank from the sides. It captures the victim in a state of panic and slows their reaction time.”
Loki blinked, realising that he had been leaning too far forwards, clinging to her every word with interest, and he fought to close off his features once again.
Why was it so difficult to hide his emotions around her? What did she pull from him with her words, a deep-seated need to listen attentively, as if he were a drowning man and each syllable that left her lips was water?
“Lovely.” He murmured, his eyes angled towards the ground as he busied his hands with the package of almonds, trying his hardest to kill any distracted thoughts hanging around the edges of his mind.
Raya was silent now, and try as he might, he couldn’t fight off the gnawing sense that she was watching him, peering into his panicking mind, easily breaking through walls he’d broken bones to put up.
“Why are you so afraid of me?”
The words wove themselves through his head, irritatingly soft, horribly soothing, and yet they were so confronting, so antagonising that his anger returned with a fearsome force.
Every inch of him was burning as he looked back up at her, into her shadowed eyes, at her cool expression, the same one she had worn hours ago.
The one that had stuck to him, that had made him think she was waiting for him to hurt her.
Did she want him to? Why was the look in her eye almost triumphant, as if he were acting just as she wanted him to? As if she were playing with his emotions, stringing them out before him so easily, spreading them out plainly just to taunt him?
“Get out of my head.” Loki said, his voice rough, and with a harsh sense of shock, he realised his eyes were full of tears.
“I’m not in it.” She said calmly, wincing slightly as she raised her hands to prove it. “I promised.”
Promises.
Sickening lies, dragging out hope and dulling the senses with complacency.
However, Loki found he had no response to her gentle words, because there was no flash of red light, no flickering memories pulled to the forefront of his mind that would disprove her sincerity.
“Why are you so afraid of me?”
She was dangerous and mysterious, horrifying and powerful.
She was unknown, something he couldn’t comprehend.
A cold sense of dread encased his stuttering heart as he realised that was how the mortals saw him too.
Why did he care?
Raya was patient in a way he never could’ve been as he sat there, his being compressed by his own reeling mind. She tilted her head to watch him, curiosity in her eyes, but there was no animosity hidden there, no anger or irritation.
“Words are aggravatingly vague sentiments.” He said quietly, and he couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or himself.
Raya didn’t take her eyes off him, but now, rather than feeling as if he were being examined under a microscope, it felt as if she were regarding him with sympathy, as though she knew a part of him that he did not.
He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more.
“They think you have no remorse for what you did.” She said, and her tone was still soft, but firm in its finality. “You do nothing to assure them that you do. In fact, you do everything to convince them that you have no feelings at all.”
Loki stared at her, letting her words wash over him, still trapped in his mind by his own thoughts.
“Is that why you fear me?” She continued, her hand no longer pressed to her side, and he realised that she had stopped bleeding. “Because I know, and they don’t?”
Slowly, as he was still processing her words, he felt his head nod.
Raya’s eyes were fixed on his, the compassion in them so strange, so unfamiliar. It seemed as if she didn’t know what to make of the feeling herself, as her mouth twisted in confusion as she shifted slightly away from the wall.
Once again, silence rested over them, but Loki did not find it oppressive anymore. Admitting it, both to her and to himself, seemed to have lifted a weight he hadn’t realised he was carrying from his shoulders.
It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to feel afraid of something.
“Why did you save me?”
Loki didn’t know why he asked the question. He wanted to remind himself that he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to know, but something about the way she watched him coaxed the words out from between his reluctant lips.
“It would have made no difference if I died, not to you, not to any of them.”
He sounded pathetic; he knew it. He could see Odin’s disapproving face in his mind, and rage swept through him, only to be extinguished by Raya’s quiet words.
“Your brother screamed for you in a way I have never heard before.”
Her eyes darkened, and he knew she was remembering the moment, so he remained silent, his heart beating steadily inside his chest.
“His voice, it… He was going to run to you, I knew it.” She said, and her mouth was pulled into a contemplating frown as she tilted her head to the side. “If he had not yelled, I never would have seen you.”
Raya sounded shaken by her own words, but he wasn’t sure exactly why. Was it because of her own negligence? Or…
He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. His chest felt hollow, confusion crashing into disbelief and sending pitiful tears to his burning eyes.
“I didn’t save you. He did.” Raya said, and the look in her eyes dared him to challenge her.
How could he rebut her words? He vaguely remembered hearing Thor yell, but the weight of the creature on his rib cage had filled each of his senses with horrific panic.
Raya blinked slowly, her eyes flicking to each feature of his face with interest in her expression, as if she had never seen such emotions on someone’s face before.
Through the defiant whispers in his mind that screamed he didn’t care, he realised that no one had ever looked at him like that.
It should’ve made him uneasy, but it only made his stomach coil in an unfamiliar way and sent a shiver down his spine.
Loki shook his head slightly and found he couldn’t hold her gaze for any longer, his hands trembling slightly as he swallowed the lump in his throat.
“Well, he was bound to do something right at least once in our lifetime.” He said, and he cursed the slight waver in his words, but he didn’t get a chance to dwell on it before his eyes caught on something.
A smile.
Raya was smiling.
Not a menacing smirk that promised pain, not the one she had worn in battle against the Kleviah.
This was soft, her bloodied lips perking up slightly as she watched him. There was warmth there, glowing from her features, her eyes dark pools that drew him in with their pity.
No, it wasn’t pity.
It was understanding.
“You are well versed in self-preservation.” Raya said quietly, still wearing that smile he didn’t understand. “It is admirable.”
Before he could answer her, before he could comprehend yet another compliment, there was a commotion outside the room, and Raya stiffened, her smile disappearing instantly as the door swung inwards.
Thor stepped into the room, his expression jaded as his eyes flicked to Raya, and he was followed by Nick Fury, who’s jaw was set in a strange mix of irritation and determination.
Loki blinked rapidly, his face falling into the familiar, cool mask as he stared at the two men, and for a moment no one spoke.
He could almost hear the walls in Raya’s mind shooting up once again as Nick’s eyes fixed on her, and a quiet triumph swirled in his chest.
Even though she confused him, she’d talked to him openly. From what he knew, she didn’t do that with anyone else. He was the exception.
“Get up, both of you.” Nick said, his eye gleaming with agitation. “We’re going for a drive.”
Chapter 8: Old Habits Die Screaming
Summary:
hey, what's up, I'm backkk.
school and life itself has been kicking my ass so horrifically that I fear I will never look at an essay concerning Ancient Greek history quite the same again- however, I will continue to upload when i can, as writing this ironically seems to be offering me more comfort than anything else.
Please, try to hold me to a promise of at least one chapter every month. I don't want to lose motivation for this fic at all, and i thank everyone for their kudos, kind comments, and a beloved artist friend of mine who is currently making fanart for rayaloki... it is much appreciated <3
chapter title from the black dog - taylor swift
Chapter Text
The Fridge.
Location: Classified.
4:52 am, May 8th, 2012.
The gun pressed into Waylon’s temple, the cold metal the only thing keeping him rooted to the spot.
The room around him was blurry, shrouded in shadows as the man beside him remained impassive, silent as he stared straight ahead.
His manic mutterings were the only noises that filled the small space, but he made no move to leave the kneeling position on the floor, knowing it would kill him that much faster.
The door slid open, and light flooded in, but instead of relief, a cold sense of dread gripped his heart, holding his breath hostage as a familiar man stepped into the room.
He was swallowed by the darkness that surrounded them, and Waylon heaved in a deep breath, his chest aching as he spat blood across the white floors.
The soldier had taken no liberties when he’d kidnapped him, silencing Walter’s momentary screams with a swift punch to the throat, and several harsh blows to the sternum.
“At ease, Soldat.”
The gun left his head, and into the blinding light set above him stepped Alexander Pierce. Waylon’s chest constricted as the Head of Shield smiled eerily down at him, and he knew he had no choice but to meet his eyes.
“You’re a very difficult man to find, Mr. Jacobs.” Alexander said, brushing his fingers over the light blue fabric of his suit, and Walter remained silent as he followed his movements, tense as his breathing left his lungs shakily. “Going on holiday to Italy, was it?”
Waylon blinked, his chest heaving as he felt panic accelerate his heartbeat, and he nodded slowly as his hands trembled in their binds behind his back.
“Waylon Jacobs, hired gun and professional hunter, arrested for fleeing the country shortly before murder trial.’” Alexander said, that smile still fixed on his face, and Waylon glared up at him. “Quite the headline for a coward.”
“I’m not crazy.” Waylon murmured, his head spinning as tears built in his eyes, his chest heaving. “The star, it was a sign, it was a sign…”
His teeth were chattering, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat, acidic and horrid, as he shifted agitatedly on the floor.
“Ah yes, the star.” Alexander sighed, and Waylon saw his eyes roll towards the roof. “Your insanity plea has already gone through, and I don’t appreciate the act, Jacobs.”
Waylon shook his head, his body trembling as tears began to stream down his face, each breath causing his chest to ache torturously.
“She promised the light would save us.” He said, his throat burning, and he saw the red flashes behind his eyes, the soft, comforting whispers echoing through his head. “’When the red star shines in the broken sky, run home. Run back to me.’”
Waylon repeated the phrase that had been carved into his mind for days now, and he wept as his stomach began to roil, his palms pressing to the floor in a prayer.
He was begging for forgiveness as he knelt to the ground, and Alexander stepped away from him as he felt his skin begin to crawl.
“Please, I tried- Make them stop, please-” Waylon pleaded in a broken voice, and a thrill of unease shot through Alexander as he watched the man’s skin begin to stretch strangely.
Waylon’s arms began to move over his head, and he laughed through a scream as his shoulders snapped, his hands still bound together.
The yells worsened when Waylon’s eyes rolled much too far back, but it was only as the man on the ground shoved his hands deep into his own mouth, his jaw cracking disconcertingly, that Alexander began to back away towards the door.
Blood began to spill out over the white floor as the door slid open, and the Winter Solider simply stood silently as Waylon Jacobs bashed his head against the floor, his body convulsing violently.
*
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
9:21 am, May 8th, 2012.
Target sounded like a death sentence.
Raya didn’t understand what Natasha meant when she said they’d find her ‘something better to wear’ at this place, but she followed her anyway.
Her hands were free; apparently mortals didn’t often parade their criminals around in chains, and it would only draw more attention to them if she was restrained.
There were soldiers all around them, she knew it, but she couldn’t see any of them. Fury had said that it was easier to hide them between the other humans just in case something went wrong.
The destabiliser around her wrist looked like a bracelet; every now and then, her eyes would catch on it, and she’d stare in wonder at the shimmering silver as the bright white lights above hummed above them.
Her eyes were flicking from every human’s face, in awe of their clear differences. Some of them had hair that matched Natasha’s, but others had colours she’d never seen before. Clint had assured her that they weren’t poisoned, that they had chosen to ‘dye’ their hair that way, and it was amazing.
Some wore long, stretching dresses that flowed around their legs, and Raya watched with interest as their dark heels clicked against the strangely shining floor. Some had lots of fabric, but others were in short shirts with designs on them, bright with so many colours she’d never seen. Some wore something Clint had called suits, and she found her eyes following them as they puffed out their chests importantly, speaking into small boxes they pressed against their ears.
It was very noisy here. Raya wasn’t a stranger to loud noises, but these were constant and shifting, rising voices, crying yells, clashing metals and soft presses of cloth to tabletops.
It was very strange. Clint and Nat looked as if this was nothing unusual, so she simply stared ahead, her eyes wide with awe as she tightened the blanket of cloth around her shoulders.
Some of the humans were looking at her oddly, but she didn’t know why. Her blood was gone now, her suit had absorbed the excess and pressed it back into her skin, much to her relief. Nick had let her use the shower in the compound before they had left, and even though she was still apprehensive of it, the warmth had been comforting.
She waved at a small human, who excitedly waved back, but when the larger woman next to the child saw her, she hurriedly grabbed the child’s shoulder and turned away.
“Raya, don’t.” Clint whispered from beside her, shielding the pair of humans from her view. “The less people that see us, the better.”
“Why are there so many of them?” Raya asked, her eyes wandering around the room, watching big signs with large letters shined high above her, humans passing through her vision as they leant against railings. “Why are they all so close together?”
“This is a public space. Anyone can be here.” Clint replied in a soft voice, a small smile on his lips, though she didn’t know why.
“But they’re all so warm.” She continued, watching as a human bumped into Nat’s shoulder, tightening her grip on herself. “They’re so easy to find. Aren’t they worried about being hunted?”
The two others shared a quick glance before Clint shook his head.
“No, they’re not. We don’t have creatures like yours here.”
Raya tilted her head, blinking in confusion, but she shrugged as she turned away, distracted by another shiny object on a woman’s neck.
“The Kleviah wouldn’t hunt here.” She said simply and missed the worry that flitted across Clint’s face.
There was a green dress in the window of a store to her right, and she slowed to stare at it, looking at the see through sleeves and slit in the side.
It looked soft, and she didn’t know why she felt so drawn to it; she could barely remember the leaves on the trees in Cirica, they were always burned away by the hot winds and acidic rain, but she thought they must’ve been the same colour.
She felt someone tug on her blanket, and she turned to meet Natasha’s gaze.
The woman flinched ever so slightly, her hand dropping immediately from the fabric around her shoulders, but her expression was kind.
“We have to keep going." She said, and Raya nodded half-heartedly, casting a final glance at the dress before following Nat through the crowd of people, her slightly damp hair sticking to her cheeks.
The cool wetness was another strange thing. Loki had called it water, and apparently it was safe to drink, and go on skin. She knew that if she forced herself to dry, it would disappear, but she was too tired to try.
Loki was here somewhere. Thor had promised they’d be close, but because Loki wasn’t supposed to be around mortals, they had to hide him better.
They stopped in front of a target, and as it loomed above her head, she wondered why they would have executions in such a small space. Maybe the mortals only sacrificed their small ones?
At another tug on her blanket, she followed Clint and Nat inside, her lips parting in surprise at the sheer number of things surrounding her. Masses of fabric lay in rows before her, hanging on shiny, metal hooks, and her eyes flicked over to several fluffy looking items, listed as ‘toys’ by the sign next to them.
Foolishly, she found she wanted to touch the small toys, and she tightened the blanket around her shoulders as she kept walking, realising that Nat and Clint were already disappearing into the crowd of humans in the depths of the store.
Her eyes darted left and right as she sped up, avoiding any glances from the surrounding people as she hurriedly walked towards the others.
However, as her gaze was drawn to a very brightly coloured toy held by a tiny mortal girl, she didn’t see the man dressed in black, and as he angrily pushed past her, she was sent stumbling to the side.
He had a scar along the side of his face, and as she regained her balance, her eyes lingered on the place where it cut down into the base of his neck.
“Move, bitch!” He barked, and she blinked, tilting her head in confusion at the words.
Bitch?
She stepped aside, shrugging off the phrase, and the twitchy man moved around her, shaking his head in annoyance, his eyes fixed on something far ahead of him.
As he began to walk, Raya’s eyes followed the way his hands moved at his side, closing around something strapped to his waist, obscured by the large coat he was wearing.
He was going the same way she was, and she remained several spaces behind him, her curiosity piqued, noticing that his gaze had been drawn to Natasha as she turned around in a sudden panic.
His hand tightened around the thing in his jacket, and Raya was reminded of the way Nat’s hand has flexed around her gun each time her heartbeat quickened.
The destabiliser hissed softly in warning as she raised her palm towards him, red light shimmering around her fingertips, but she hesitated, remembering Clint’s pained groan as her energy surged within his veins.
Perhaps this was the ‘target’ Nat had been talking about earlier. She had been waiting for them to begin testing her, waiting for them to let her prove herself.
However, something didn’t feel right about the way he was watching the two, and Raya narrowed her eyes as she saw his stance shift ever so slightly, barely aware that she made the decision to act.
The man’s sharp yell of pain was silenced immediately as his memories flooded her mind, and she watched his muscles tense up, frozen as his heartbeat stuttered.
“The Avengers are on the move. Find them, isolate them, terminate them.”
“Of course, sir.”
The cool press of the night as he ran, watching headlights disappear through the darkness, the sun glimmering on the horizon.
A gun in his hand. In his jacket. At his side.
“Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow. Clint Barton, Hawkeye. Smithfield Street Bridge. Others unaccounted for.”
Several humans were looking at her, at the man, but Raya could hardly see them as she let out a harsh breath and released his mind from her hold.
The man dropped to the ground, and she moved to stand over him, peering down at his face curiously.
He had a scar under his eye, and it was milky white, clearly many years old. She absentmindedly touched the scar on her lip as he began to writhe on the floor, trying to get to his feet.
There was a pin on his jacket, shiny and glittering, and her eyes fixed on it, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. A skull, with strange long legs? They were curved and had unusual bumps all along them. She’d never seen anything like it before.
“What the fuck?” The man was saying now, and Raya tilted her head as he glared at her, his hand still buried in his jacket.
There were many humans looking now, and Raya set her jaw as she realised she’d disobeyed Clint’s one order to stay hidden, but now the man was waving erratically, and when he lunged for her, she stepped easily to the side to dodge him.
His knees buckled under him, and the gun clattered to the floor as he slipped. The sight of it seemed to set off the humans around her, who all began screaming or running away as the man scrabbled for the piece of metal.
At the sound of it cocking, Raya stepped closer to him, and he was breathing heavily as he pointed it at her, his hands shaking violently.
“What the fuck are you-” He yelled, and she narrowed her eyes in confusion as she reached for the gun barrel.
An eerie sort of silence descended on them as she snapped the object with one hand, examining the dirty metal interestedly. The humans still left around her looked scared, though she wasn’t sure why.
Their weapons weren’t very durable, but they were certainly intriguing. She wondered briefly how they worked, but then the man was on his feet again, and he was running.
She watched him sprint towards the door as she lifted her hand slowly, unsure why he had left their fight, and she flicked her hand out towards him.
Red light flashed from her fingertips and wrapped around him, his pain scream echoing through the store, a familiar sizzle making her smile as he was pulled closer to her, the shocks up her arm barely registering to her mind.
He was fighting very hard against the flames as they squeezed around his chest, licking up his neck, and now all the other humans were screaming, but Raya was admiring the beauty of the flames as his skin burned.
She dropped him before her, watching him twitch as he gasped for breath, and the flames dissipated around him as she ripped the shiny pin from his singed jacket.
“Hail…” The man said, his voice broken as he glared up at her, and she saw something pop inside his mouth. “Hydra.”
She blinked in confusion, and quickly leant down, forcing her hand into his mouth. His jaw cracked loudly, and a small human shrieked as he pointed excitedly at her.
She rubbed her fingers together as she pulled her hand from his throat, listening to him choke, his eyes wide with panic, and studied the white powder on her gloves.
Someone was pulling very hard on her blanket, and she looked around to meet Natasha’s horrified gaze, to see Clint’s open-mouthed disgust, and every certainty left her instantly.
“What did you do?” Clint’s voice was rough, and each syllable was sharpened by disappointment, by terror. “Raya, what did you do?”
“He was going to hurt you.” She said, but suddenly her voice lacked strength as panic ripped through her. “I saw it.”
“Look what you have done! A disgusting failure, a broken waste of space! You are nothing but a weakness.”
A sudden sharp point in her back sent pain rippling through her, and as her surroundings spun wildly, she could barely breathe. Someone was shouting behind her, and as she plucked the small object from her neck, she ran her thumb over the tiny tuff of strange feathers on the end.
“What…” She murmured, but her tongue felt as if it had turned to lead in her mouth.
Her body was very heavy, and she stared strangely at her trembling hands as the metal dart fell from her grip, but any noise it made as it hit the floor was lost in the din of angry voices around her.
Red and green capes swayed near her head, but she didn’t remember how she had gotten to the floor, her eyelids fluttering as she curled in on herself.
Everyone was blurred as everything slowed, and as the lights above her flickered sporadically, she couldn’t even lift her hand to swat at them.
Was this her punishment? This swaying, awful feeling in her body, her eyes rolling out of her head, the floor her ceiling, the cool tiles under her head warming to the touch of her skin as she fought to move even slightly?
She stared at the scar carved deeply into the man’s face next to her, watching him squirm in something akin to fear, and though her body tried to fight off the forcefully induced sleep, she couldn’t help but succumb to the darkness, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.
*
Cumberland Village, Pennsylvania.
10:29 am, May 8th, 2012.
Steve rolled the HYDRA pin between his fingers, picking the fabric of the agent’s jacket from between the metal clip, his brow furrowed in consideration.
Raya’s chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly, her features relaxed into an imitation of peace, and if he hadn’t caught the way her eyes rolled behind their lids, he might have believed she were sleeping soundly.
Her body was bound, several thick chains wrapped harshly around her wrists and ankles, one fashioned from aluminium snaking over her stomach and securing her to the bars of the cage.
Her mouth was smothered by the muzzle, and the repeated beeps of two destabilisers echoed through the room every so often, the flashing red light flickering across what little of her face he could see.
Guilt had been slowly spreading through him for hours now, searing his nerves, ultimately dragging him down to come see the evidence of his failure.
A sedated goddess, chained in the back of a truck. No chance to explain herself, no way to tell her he now understood.
He’d seen Natasha afraid before, but when he’d rushed up behind her in that shopping centre, the clear panic etched into each line in her face had terrified him more than the situation they were in.
Initially, he’d been enraged. He’d wanted to yell that he never should’ve let it get this far, that he’d told Nat this would happen, that they never should’ve trusted someone so dangerous.
That Bruce had been right to want to kill her.
All of this, all the anger, it had flared to life on the tip of his tongue, and he had almost been ready to let it all fall from his lips until his eyes caught on the pin that rested inches from Raya’s gloved hand.
He hadn’t needed to touch it to know what it was. The skull and tentacles, even 70 years in the future, were unmistakable.
Now, as he pulled his eyes away from Raya’s tranquilized form and back to the pin, that same wave of dread that had washed over him at the first sighting hit again.
HYDRA was destroyed. That was why he’d risked everything he’d ever loved, to end it, to ensure they never rose again.
The proof of his failure was resting in the palm of his hand, and the numbness spreading through him was wholly unfamiliar.
Loki’s eyes were fixed on him, tied to the side of Raya’s cage, and though his mouth was covered, Steve could almost hear the snarky quips that would fall from the god’s lips echoing around his head.
Steve didn’t dare meet his searing gaze, instead watching as Raya shifted ever so slightly, her fingers twitching as if she were moving to grip something in her sleep.
“She’s been under drills, perhaps in the same way our soldiers are.”
There was no doubting Raya’s abilities. She was strong, quick, and unfathomably skilled. She bore the marks of a well-trained soldier; it was displayed in every swift kick, every harsh punch, each flash of her darkly determined eyes as she fought.
Her capability, even in the face of all this new information, of a new world, unsettled him in a way he disliked.
Was it envy? Envy that she acclimated so well with her surroundings, simply switching tact and envisioning another plan, running through the situations in her mind much quicker than he could ever dream of?
Perhaps, his anger came from his own insecurity, having been thrown in so quickly to yet another war after he’d been found, with barely a moment to truly breathe.
He looked at her, and saw everything he’d ever wanted to be, saw the adaptability he’d sought after ever since he’d been unfrozen, but…
Steve was not stupid. He did not miss the way she revelled in the pain, did not misunderstand the horrible gleam in her eyes as she struck down her enemies. She did not run from the hurt, and she took it as if she deserved it, choking on blood with a crimson smile tearing apart her blank features.
It was as if she knew no other way to fight, but to take the pain and turn it into bravery, crafting a double-edged dagger of courage that would cut cleanly across her victim’s throats.
He found himself regarding her with a cool sense of respect, still anxiously flipping the HYDRA pin in his fingers as he studied her, and he only looked up when he caught the soft steps of someone behind him.
Loki huffed slightly through his mask, but just as he had done for the last half an hour, Steve ignored him, watching Nat’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as they darted around his face.
She didn’t step across the threshold, and he knew she was waiting for him to make the next move, waiting to see how he would react to her presence after the whirlwind of arguments they’d had in the past few days.
Steve tilted his head in a noncommittal gesture of acknowledgement, and Nat’s crossed arms fell to her sides as she moved beside him, her hand reaching for the pin dangling from his fingertips.
“What’d they say?” He asked coolly, and Nat sighed quietly, shrugging her shoulders as she flipped the pin over, as if she was trying to disprove its existence.
“Repeating everything all over again. Banner arguing that she’s a danger, Tony and Thor fighting to keep her alive while Fury stands and watches.” The words left her in a huff of annoyance, and she slipped the pin into his hand before pressing her palm to her forehead. “The reappearance of HYDRA shook everybody pretty badly, even if they’re still coming to grips with what it means.”
She looked up at him, and Steve met her eyes as a grim smile pulled at his lips, watching as she nodded towards him.
“I know it must be hard for you.” She said, and he noted the way her jaw tightened, stopping her from saying anything further.
Steve took in a breath, his eyes briefly drifting over to Loki, who was watching them with a cold haughtiness etched into every visible part of his face, taking a few seconds to collect his thoughts before he spoke again.
“Do you really believe she was protecting you?” He said, forcing the conversation away from his potentially wasted life, trying to avoid the fact that he had essentially died for nothing and push out of the pit of regret that was caving in his chest.
Natasha did not answer for a moment, her eyes fixed on Raya’s sleeping form, and he folded his hands before him as he allowed her a brief reprieve of consideration.
He had only seen the tail end of the fight. He’d turned the corner to see a flaming man hanging in the air, and a hauntingly wistful expression taking over Raya’s face as she watched him burn.
That had almost stopped him right there, the lack of fear, of anything but wonder softening her features. She was enjoying it, and he didn’t understand how to handle that.
However, he couldn’t deny the gasp of shock that had left his lips as the tranquilizer had buried itself between Raya’s shoulder blades a moment later.
“He had a gun. He works for HYDRA.” Nat said, cutting through his musings, and he looked back at her. “If she wasn’t there, maybe he would’ve killed us.”
She didn’t sound very frightened of the notion. Her eyes were slightly wide, glazed over, and her hands were clenched into fists at her sides as if she were prepared for a fight.
Steve briefly wondered whether it was anger at herself for missing the threat, or anger at the fact that Raya had been punished for defending her and Barton.
Perhaps, with the way her breath left her, as if it pained her to continue, it was both.
“She told Barton that she ‘saw it’. Something in his memories told her he was going to hurt us.” Natasha swallowed, and Steve could see the muscle in her jaw popping as she straightened her back. “And Fury knocked her out before we could ask anything more.”
He nodded, aware that Loki had gone very quiet, certain he was listening intently to their every word, but he knew Natasha was not one to share anymore than was needed. There was no ploy he could make from this.
“How’d he do it?” He asked, more out of curiosity than anything else, and Natasha let out a quiet sigh.
“Carfentanil.” She answered smoothly, but at Steve’s uncomprehending expression, she added, “Elephant tranquilizers. 10,000 times stronger than morphine and kept with S.H.I.E.L.D as a preventive measure against the Hulk.”
Steve blinked in surprise, and Natasha shrugged, her expression showing no trace of sympathy, anger crinkling her brow as her gaze flicked back to Raya.
“He took a risk and assumed it wouldn’t kill her.” She said, her words sharpened by simmering anger, and he stayed silent. “Less than 1 milligram to kill a regular human. 8 milligrams in her right now.”
His eyes widened, and Nat’s head was nodding quickly, her agitation becoming much more noticeable as her eyes darted from him to Raya again and again.
The muffled sound that fell from Loki’s lips sounded almost like a laugh, but Steve did not dare to look over at him, still considering Natasha’s words as he spun the pin between his fingers.
“When are we expected to arrive at the boats?” He asked abruptly, turning away from Raya, trying to ignore the uncomfortable sensation sweeping through his chest.
For Fury to do something so rash… perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised. This was the man who attempted to use the Tesseract to build nuclear weapons, who had hidden his plans from all of them.
He’d almost forgotten about that with everything that had been happening. Agents were still combing through forests and oceans searching for the Cube, possibly endangering their lives as the Kleviah spread across the world.
Everything was so exhausting to think about, and he was grateful for Natasha’s quick answer as he walked through the doorway, his hands held stiffly at his sides.
“Estimated arrival time 5:01pm.” She responded curtly, her face now blank as she followed behind him. “Why?”
Steve allowed his eyes to drift over to Raya for half a second before he slid the door shut, bolting the lock behind him.
“I have a feeling we will encounter some problems on the way there.” He said, offering no further explanation as he slipped the HYDRA pin into his pocket and began to step carefully with the sway of the truck, moving back towards the larger compartment, the sound of irate voices hitting him immediately.
Raya was their bait, which meant anywhere they went, they were in danger. She could draw the Kleviah in, maybe even be their key to finding the Tesseract, but now they had to worry about keeping her hidden from HYDRA too.
Steve hated how much they relied on her cooperation, and hated how hard it was to gain any modicum of her trust.
What he hated even more, however, was how little they had done to deserve it.
*
Virginia Beach, Virginia.
4:56pm, May 8th, 2012.
With each horribly quiet moment that passed, Loki’s thoughts began to creep in, eating away at his mind as he swayed on the floor of the truck, his chains clinking together softly.
He’d found himself drifting in and out of consciousness as the hours ticked by, but every time Raya moved, every time her breathing stuttered, he flinched, ready to be submerged in the red-hot bile that had spewed from her lips the last time he’d disturbed her sleep.
Perhaps it was the fact that she’d been drugged so heavily, as the Widow had so eloquently explained, but she had not yet begun to thrash in a bout of nightmare riddled sleep. However, that did nothing to ease his fears, and when his eyes were not drifting shut against his will, they were trained on her, waiting.
Her face was strangely peaceful, and he found himself wondering just how long it had been since she’d slept without being plagued by terrors, but then he shook his head violently.
He also suffered from nightmares, but he didn’t care about hers. He didn’t want to know what she dreamt about, and his heart clenched as he realised she probably knew all about his.
To have someone, a stranger, know so much about him, know all the fears that gripped him tightly and consumed his thoughts, it angered him.
How was it fair that she simply had to flick her wrist, and then she would find herself deep in his memories, uncovering his every weakness at a moment’s notice, whereas he had to pry even the barest information from her?
Loki knew she had been careful when sharing information about herself. Nothing she said to him was ever really about her, only about immediate threats, hardly about her abilities, or evaluating him in a way that made his skin crawl and his heart wrench in his chest.
Perhaps in other circumstances, he would be impressed at her power to omit the truth so well, but now, it only served to aggravate him.
He was watching her again, his arms aching from being strung up for so long, his throat pained from lack of hydration, not that he would complain about it to any of the Avengers.
He couldn’t give them anything else to hold over him.
Raya shifted again, her mouth moving slackly as she mumbled something unintelligible, and his eyes followed her head as it turned to the side, tense with anticipation.
Once she gained power over her mind again, her body would react. There would be screaming and burning and flames, with him at the centre of it, his fists fusing together as the metal of his chains began to melt into his skin.
He had suffered worse tortures, but he was not ecstatic by the idea.
Loki let out a harsh breath as the memory resurfaced, white hot and muddled, and he bit down hard on his lip behind the muzzle, willing the metallic taste of blood onto his tongue to distract himself.
Raya’s breathing paused for half a second, and he found himself staring into her dark eyes, something in his chest twinging with fear at the bleary confusion on her face.
It only took a moment before a deep breath was forced through her lungs, and as she pulled at the restraints around her, panic settling into her expression, he felt dread rise like bile in his throat.
He pulled roughly at his chains, trying to force himself away from her as she began to thrash violently, her screams muffled as the slivers of her skin visible to him began to glow.
Raya was staring at him as the destabilisers around her wrists hissed and screeched irritably, shocking her harshly as the flames she couldn’t control spilled from her mouth, burning easily through her muzzle.
She was crying.
Saliva laced with hot blood spilled from between her lips as she convulsed, and guilt clawed at the back of his throat as Loki watched her helplessly.
I’m sorry.
The thought struck him, and he was shocked by its ferocity, its sincerity.
What could he be sorry for? It wasn’t his fault that he was simply here, and she couldn’t handle it.
The words felt sickeningly awful even as he spoke them in his own mind, watching as she writhed in immovable restraints, her breaths coming out in half formed pleas as tears lined her cheeks.
Raya’s eyes rolled back as her body was doused in the vomit of bloody flames, and Loki squirmed away from the heat, his skin burning as the metal that entrapped him began to bend.
Then she wasn’t moving anymore, the heightened shocks of the destabilisers seeming to send her body into an overload as she collapsed against the floor, and Loki let out a harsh breath as his heart rate slowly calmed.
She was twitching every so often, her eyelids fluttering as the muscles in her arms were pulled taut by the chains, and now her tears on the floor.
Loki’s stomach twisted uncomfortably as her eyes found his yet again, and he only offered her a curt nod of his head as he forced his breathing to even out.
He could not give anything to her, nor did he want to; her issues were not his problem, not his burden.
Loki wasn’t quite sure what to call the pit in his stomach as she looked away, but it felt an awful lot like regret.
The smell of burning flesh hit him, but he only gazed ahead at the door before them, trying to ignore the sounds of Raya shifting, her chains clinking against each other as she untangled her body from them.
She did not wince or shout. He could not hear her crying, and a guilty wave of relief washed through him at the realisation, before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be sparing any thoughts for her.
However, he could not tell if her silence unnerved him more than her screams.
He could hear shouts from around the truck as they smoothly rolled to a stop, and he tightened his jaw; his chance at escape might be near, and his traitorous mind only continued to drift back to a being of no consequence to him.
If only the destabiliser could be broken.
Raya had broken hers.
That was what it all was about, wasn’t it? Raya, Raya, Raya, incapable, burning, broken Raya. She had caused the Avengers to panic, to show every bit of disgustingly mortal emotion they possessed, and they feared her in a way they didn’t fear him.
She brought along a promise of more war, while he had been bested by their supposed might. She was nothing, nothing, nothing, so inconsequential, so weak, and no one knew but him.
He tugged at his chains as he listened S.H.I.E.L.D agents banging the outside of the truck, digging his nails into his palms.
Except she wasn’t weak, and as he’d told her before, he wasn’t stupid enough to think she was.
Loki could feel her eyes on him, but he refused to look up, to meet her infuriating gaze, the one that knew too much about him.
The door was suddenly flung open, and he was strangely grateful for the relief of the salt tainted breeze that swept through his hair as guns cocked before him.
Agents filed in, and for the most part, completely ignored him, their masked faces turned towards Raya’s cage.
They were speaking but he didn’t care enough to listen to their words, holding his head high as one of them unwrapped his chains quickly from the bars of the cage and offered them to Thor.
He considered ripping them from the agent’s hands, pulling so harshly that his wrists would snap, but the thrill at the idea was dampened by the cautioning glare Thor sent his way.
Loki was pulled roughly to his feet, and as he was forced from the truck, he chanced a glance over his shoulder at Raya, watching as her features rested in a mask of careful detachment.
He’d worn that expression on his own face enough to know that it concealed fear.
He blinked as the sun shined into his eyes, horribly bright, and his sharp look around showed him an encampment of sorts, and boats, lined up along a expansive pier, where they swayed in the gentle waves splashing along their sides.
There was shouting from the men standing at the pier, and as he was led to the water’s edge, vehicles of various shapes and sizes rushed past into the boat, lined with boxes of weaponry and other miscellaneous items he couldn’t make out.
The Hawk was watching him closely, the Widow at his side, both wearing expressions rife with agitation, but he merely brushed off their lingering looks, already accustomed to the distrust in their gaze.
He could not see Stark, Bruce or Rogers anywhere, but Fury was directing men onto the boat, his voice echoing out into the open air as agents moved quickly around him, and Loki ignored the way the director’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of him.
“We will be crossing the ocean.” Thor said to him, his voice terribly loud after hours of Raya’s soft breathing and the turn of steady wheels under him, causing Loki to wince slightly. “We are following the beasts to… Europe.”
Loki recognised the name from his studies of Migardian literature, but he only gave a vague grunt of acknowledgement to the words as he followed Thor to the bridge that connected the land to the boat.
Behind them, there was a sharp scream, and he turned quickly, his eyes scanning the area immediately for the source.
In the swarms of agents, he found Raya, her body contorting in grotesque motions as her cage was dropped to the ground, her arms flailing out to snap the metal that entrapped her.
Thor tensed beside him, but he didn’t look over, simply watching as Raya crawled out of the cage, unsteadily rising to her feet as her eyes darted around to each of the agents surrounding her, metres from where the water lapped at the shore.
“No, no!” He could hear her screaming, and as he watched, a stupid mortal reached for her arm.
It felt as if a collective breath was held tightly in everyone’s chests as the man’s elbow snapped cleanly in half, and then he was writhing and shrieking from the floor as Raya struggled to stay on her feet, her chest rising and falling much faster than it should’ve been.
Another familiar expression tearing apart her neutral face.
Panic.
Agents began to descend on her, their guns loaded and pointed at her heart, and then he heard Natasha and Clint yelling, and as each new sound washed over her, Raya’s movements only seemed to grow more erratic.
She stumbled as a shock shot through her from the destabilisers, she was falling over herself to get away from the water, and it clicked in Loki’s head.
“It’s water. Drink it.”
At the time, her confusion and disbelief in his words had been almost funny, but now it made sense; of course she had been unsure. She had never seen it before, and now they were trying to drag her into the largest body of water Midgard had.
She was lashing out as each agent stepped forward, their guns brandished, but too afraid to shoot, and Loki felt as if he could hear the moment her one of the destabilisers broke.
Her eyes darkened before they flickered shut, and when she reopened them, they were shining a deep, crimson red.
Helvete.
Loki barely realised he was moving. Every fibre of his being was screaming at him to turn and run, to flee from the fight, from this place and be free, but instead he was sprinting down the pier, his arms still ridiculously chained, and one thought burning through his mind.
“I didn’t know there was any other way than blood and bruises. The pain, that was what said, ‘I’m sorry’.”
Judging by the enraged protests that left her lips, and panicked swipes towards the heads of the agents who dared approach her trembling figure, Loki assumed she wasn’t in much of a state to abide by mortal customs.
Perhaps the only way to convince her to settle was by employing her own methods.
He soared over the heads of the agents that surrounded her, Thor’s yells of anger following him as he hit the ground harshly, one of the locks that kept his arms chained snapping.
His breath was hot against his face as he lunged at Raya, the muzzle making it difficult to breathe, but as her gloved hand wrapped around his forearm, he didn’t have time to think.
She was screaming, her breathing stuttered as her eyes glowed, and he could feel the heat radiating off her, but he ignored it as she began clawing at his skin angrily.
His muzzle cracked loudly when she brought her hand down hard across his face, and he ripped the damned thing from around his mouth as his eyes fixed on hers once again.
Not a single part of him was sure about this, and the look in her eye was so horribly murderous that he almost regretted his idiotic idea, but as he ducked to avoid another punch, he did something so impossibly stupid that he would’ve laughed if his heart hadn’t been constricting his throat.
Loki rushed forwards, his now chainless arm thrown forwards forcefully to connect with her face, and he watched, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, as her head snapped to the side.
His mouth was dry as Raya slowly turned back to face him, her eyes pulsing as her breathing evened out for half a second.
Any moment of triumph he experienced died as her hand shot out quickly to wrap around his throat, and fear rushed through him as his skin began to burn.
Chapter 9: I Want Your Violence
Summary:
HEYYY, what's up guys! school is kicking my ass rn honestly, so I haven't had a lot of time for this, but TRUST ME, I am trying!
Thank you to everyone bookmarking, commenting and giving kudos, I love seeing them, and they give me so much inspiration to continue this. Thank you to the lovely commentor who made a playlist for raya (it was brilliant), and thank you to my friend, sunnie, for their perseverance concerning the rayaloki fanart I asked them to draw for me (i love it so much).
I've recently uploaded a rayaloki edit onto my editing account, summer._.edits_ , so if you want to see more of them, please watch it!
Anyway, I hope you are all well, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! more plot development, woooo!
this is so not beta read.
chapter title from spiracle - flower face
Chapter Text
Virginia Beach, Virginia.
5:27pm, May 8th, 2012.
The feeling of being right was not one that was unfamiliar to Tony Stark.
He was used to the pride that came with it, that rush of heady delight that ignited in his chest as his expression turned smug.
However, where he once felt joy, he now felt a cold sense of horrifying dread as he watched Raya and Loki fight once more.
Now, the only thing that he knew to be unpredictable was how long Loki could hold his own.
They were vicious whirlwinds of power, of capability, each blow they landed on each other always swiftly returned with another just as jarring. Raya was screaming in her panic – he knew enough, with the way her hand clutched at her heart, that she was not angry, but afraid – but Loki did not pause for even a moment.
Fury had stilled at his side, his hand raised to wave off the gunmen that surrounded the two, and Tony set his jaw as he glanced up to see the man’s displeased expression.
The only reason Raya had gone down so quickly the first time was because the tranquilizer had hit her in one of the only clear patches of flesh, and with the terrifying speed with which both gods fought, they could just as easily hit Loki as Raya.
Tony watched with his heart in his throat as Raya was forced headfirst into the dirt, but even as Loki held her to the ground, her legs twisted up to wrap around his waist and her hands moved quickly to grip his forearms as she used his body weight to drive him to the floor instead.
Thor was hovering to the side of the fight, swinging Mjölnir slowly in his hand, his body tense as he surveyed the two with narrowed eyes.
Rationally, Tony knew that the God of Thunder could not intervene. It wouldn’t serve to help anyone, only to disconcert Raya further, and send Loki off balance as he fought her, but he longed to scream and tell him to pull them away from each other before Raya inevitably killed him.
It was so strange to be worried about Loki’s wellbeing, of all peoples, but he found he couldn’t help it, not when he’d watched her brutal dismemberment of a beast much more terrifying and formidable than the god.
Loki’s challenging yell was met with a returned scream, and then they were both on the ground again, rolling away from each other as the effort of their fight unsteadied them both.
Tony watched as Raya wiped a gloved hand under her nose, yet more blood gushing from her – did she ever stop bleeding? – and as Loki rose onto one of his knees, his body rigid.
There was a moment when they simply gazed at each other, their chests heaving as they both fought for breath, and as much as worry plagued him, a strange sense of curiosity made him tilt his head to the side in confusion.
Before he could ponder any further, they moved too quickly for his eyes to follow, and then they were fighting fiercely once again, Raya’s fist catching Loki harshly across the face.
*
Virginia Beach, Virginia.
5:36pm, May 8th, 2012.
The familiar light was returning to Raya’s eyes much slower than he had hoped, and as blood spilled from between his bared teeth, Loki contemplated how it would feel to die by her hand.
How foolish would they think he was, to run headlong into this danger? Would he be marked a moron forever, when her fingers choked away his final breaths? How much would it hurt, to see her uncomprehending gaze never shift back to understanding while the life drained out of him?
Loki dodged Raya’s next aggravated strike to his temple, but her foot came up to stroke him harshly in the stomach, sending him to the ground once again.
Her face was contorted in conflicting emotions, and Loki was breathing heavily as her glimmering eyes drilled into his, seeing his each and every fear, knowing too many parts of him as he forced himself to push off the ground.
With each punch, with every new breath, her movements were becoming less erratic, and he knew that his plan was working.
However, he knew he may not live to see it to fruition.
Raya’s knee hit his jaw, and Loki’s eyes squeezed shut against the burn of tears in his eyes as he was thrown from his half standing stance, his knees buckling far too quickly under him.
He could not win, even as she had to pause to catch her breath, still dizzy from the effects of the tranquilizer. He could not win, even as her eyes grew heavy with a confused sense of recognition.
Raya had his forearms, she was struggling to part them as she forced him harshly to the floor, her breaths quick and panicked still.
So, with a rattling breath drawn through bruised lungs, Loki raised his palms towards her, his one knee folded beneath him as she moved to strike him once more, and shouted,
“I yield!”
How pathetic he must sound, conceding defeat.
But while Loki was many things, while he was immensely, irregularly, immeasurably prideful, he was not stupid.
Raya froze, blinking rapidly as her body went rigid against the urge to strike him, and he watched as the angry, red glow faded slowly from her eyes.
Spurred on by this, ignoring the surrounding agents, ignoring the Avengers he knew would be watching them closely, he spoke again, his voice still strong despite the pain that wracked his body.
“I yield.”
Raya was staring at him, and as her breathing slowed, her gloved fingers digging into the soft flesh of his wrists, Loki felt that irritating twinge of fear erupt once again in his chest.
Her teary eyes were no longer red.
A few more moments of ragged breathing, of quick blinks to clear both minds, and then Raya released him, taking half a step backwards as she looked down at him, the panic in her expression still lacing her features lightly.
“The- The damp dunes, I cannot-” Raya said suddenly, her voice broken, and Loki glanced to where her eyes had drifted, watching as the waves caressed the beach in soft splashes.
“We intend to cross the ocean.” Loki said quickly, rushing through the information as he turned back to her, ignoring the ache of his knees under him. “They mean to slay your Kleviah. It is water, Raya. It cannot hurt you.”
He was speaking so much, saying so many things, where had his mind gone? Maybe all her insanity had crept into his head and driven him further into madness. That could surely be the only reason he kept on talking.
“They will not let it hurt you.” He said, only now feeling the burn of hundreds of eyes on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the woman standing before him.
Raya was watching him carefully, her hand flexing at her side as blood leaked from her nose and slipped down past her lips, and Loki was not sure what possessed him as he continued in a quiet voice,
“Are we alright now?”
Surprise, confusion, then laughter.
Raya was looking at him with bright eyes, her lips pulled up at the sides ever so slightly as from them fell a whisper of a laugh, and Loki was sure she had hit him so hard that it caused the sound to echo through his mind unbidden.
“We are not worse.” She repeated the words from what felt like a lifetime ago, and when she offered her hand, he only hesitated for half a moment before he reached up to take it.
Once again, there it was, that space of half a breath where her eyes seemed to shimmer unlike any other as she pulled him to his feet, and a thrill of fear pierced his heart viciously.
Loki withdrew his hand from hers quickly, quite disconcerted by the sudden upheaval of feelings in his chest, but as he turned to face the scrutiny of people surrounding them, he found no comfort in their cold expressions.
He did not allow himself to hold their gazes, roughly pushing through the crowd of gunmen, only pausing when Thor’s hand shot out to catch his shoulder.
He met his brother’s eyes, and instead of anger, there was a sense of confusion so unfamiliar on his usually confident features that it set Loki even further off balance.
His shrugged the hand away, and Thor let him go, allowing him to continue striding across to the ship, too lost in his own mind to really pay any attention to the frantic beat of his heart.
He had kneeled.
He had yielded, that he could do. That he could accept.
But it was only as he blindly followed the order of some voice to his right and stumbled into a room he did not care for, that he felt shame sear his nerves, burn brightly in his cheeks and consume his stuttered breaths.
Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, the God of Mischief, Earth’s most fearsome tyrant and would be ruler, had kneeled.
Kneeled to someone he despised, no less. Let the Avengers see he had weaknesses- but he didn’t, how could he? Could they ridicule him for being intelligent enough to see he could not win?
Raya was not a weakness, not at all. In fact, she was the very opposite of that; she was nothing but strength, power and too much understanding.
Loki groaned angrily, his fist shooting out to slam into the wall of what he now realised was a cell, and he forced himself to take in deep breaths as the humiliation truly settled over him.
Why did he run to her? If she had killed the entire army that contained them, he might have been free. Why would he rush to save someone who did nothing but aggravate him, vex him, someone that made him feel so afraid?
He slammed his fists into the wall, his hands scraping along the metal, but he did not care as pain stung at him.
Her hands had already caused so much of it, why should he not inflict more to himself? Then it would be his burden, his fault, his to control when she was so uncontrollable!
Loki’s breathing was much too fast as he gripped the wall, his legs shaking as tears burnt in his eyes, and as someone shook at the bars of his cage, he did not look up.
He shouted something he did not know, threw a piece of steel he could not feel, and it was only when their presence had disappeared that he let himself sink onto the floor, his arms curling around his legs as he pulled them tightly to his chest.
Everything he had; it was coming undone because of her.
He sneered at his own thoughts, digging his fingernails into the leather of his clothing, and as his harsh breathing constricted his chest painfully, he glared at the opposite wall.
He could not lose everything to her.
She would not be his undoing.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
6:03pm, May 8th, 2012.
No muzzle ensnared her mouth now, and yet Raya could not find it within herself to speak freely.
Her hands were bound in chains once again, and the room in which she resided was deathly silent, something she did not care to rectify.
The sway of the boat beneath her was not unlike that of the trucks they had travelled in before, but she was greatly and horrifyingly aware of the depths that stretched on endlessly under them.
The Damp Dunes.
Abyssi. The Deep, known in stories fed to her warriors by long dead teachers.
The roiling darkness that consumed the fire in one’s heart, extinguishing their breath and cutting away their flames.
She repressed a shiver as her mind drifted back towards panic, taking a slow breath as she stared down the table, her eyes fixed on the shining surface with a desperate ferocity.
The Avengers lined the walls, sat in chairs around her, but not one of them spoke, not to her or each other. They simply sat in silence, the only sounds that of Tony’s keyboard, and a harsh, crashing echo from somewhere high above them.
She was only vaguely aware that Natasha was missing, but she could hardly raise her head from tiredness to glance around and confirm, so she simply let her tongue swirl around her top teeth to clear away any blood left from Loki’s attacks.
Gratitude was pumping through her every nerve, and her two destabilisers seemed to flash red in time with every hurried beat of her pounding heart as she reconsidered their fight.
She could barely remember it; her mind was, even now, muddled from whatever they had done to subdue her earlier, and she had settled into a reactive state the moment his hand had made contact with her face.
Another crash from high above, and then the doors of the room were swung open, and Natasha walked in, her expression grim as she marched directly towards Thor.
Raya followed her as she moved across the room, but Natasha did not look in her direction, sharing a few whispered words with Thor, her fists clenched at her sides.
Thor uncrossed his arms, and his already tense expression tightened further as he quickly exited the room, his eyes darting to the ceiling as another crash echoed from above.
“Is his Royal Highness having a temper tantrum?” Clint murmured, glancing up as Natasha approached him.
Raya blinked, her eyes narrowing as she evaluated the pair, something in her chest aching unbearably.
Nat’s expression remained stony, and she did not sit at the table, merely pressing her palms to the wood as she took in a shaky breath.
The looks of discomfort that were shared by the other Avengers unsettled Raya further, but she forced her expression to remain indifferent, her eyes fixed on the red headed woman in the centre of the room.
“He is upset.” Natasha said, her voice quiet, and Raya tapped her fingers loosely against her knee as she studied each micro expression that crossed her face.
“Shockingly so.” Tony muttered sarcastically, and the muscle in Raya’s jaw twitched.
Loki was not present to defend himself, and yet they… they poked fun at him? After he had saved them, from her?
Her fear might have cost lives if Loki had not thrown himself into the fight. Her lapse in judgement, her horrible panic, it could have killed everyone, but he had saved them.
Did they not know?
Natasha did not smile at any of her teammate’s jibes, and her face remained pinched into a slightly distressed expression as she glanced quickly towards Fury.
“We are well aware that he is a sore loser.” Bruce added quietly, his words laced with a deathly chill, and the strange, insistent ache in Raya’s chest overwhelmed her.
She was on her feet before she truly noticed what she was doing, and the words left her mouth too quickly for her to think about them.
“He saved your lives!” She said loudly, and her chains rattled as the Avengers fell silent. “I-”
What was it that she was feeling? Was it guilt? Anger? She could not determine it, and she was too lost in the sudden wave of confusion that hit her to contemplate.
Why could they not understand?
“Why do you admonish Loki when it should be me that is locked away? Why do I sit here, among you, when I have threatened you so?” Raya said, her voice rising in volume, but despite the unsteadiness in her footing, her words did not waver. “I am at fault for all of this! Everything that has befallen you, it is my doing, especially now.”
“No one is disagreeing with you.” Bruce huffed, sitting forwards in his chair and Raya turned her gaze on him, anger flaring to life in her chest.
“No? Then where is my punishment? When is it that I am faced with my actions and am forced to endure the pains of my penance?” She said, her voice echoing to fill the space, and she watched as Bruce’s expression hardened. “Where is the cruel taunting you offer him? Why am I, the burden on your backs and harbinger of your suffering, still sitting at this table with you?”
“I feel like I need a translator for the lot of you!” Fury shouted, his voice pitching up into an agitated yell, and Raya turned her attention to him, holding her head high as she waited for words, relishing in an argument. “You gods cannot seem to speak normally, no matter the fucking circumstances!”
Raya stared at him, allowing her breaths to pass smoothly through her lungs as she studied his features.
Fury’s gaze was cold, rage simmering behind his eyes, but she could still see the wariness in his stance as he rose from the table.
“You are new, and you are dangerous, yes.” Fury said, and suddenly his words were measured, careful. “But we do not know how to detain you, and your good word has meant nothing to us so far. You break agreements, you follow your own course of action, and you are reckless!”
Raya did not move, settling the tension in her body as Fury continued, clinging to his every answer.
More than her rage, more than her discontentment, she was sick of being confused and frightened. Answers is what she needed, but it seemed none of the Avengers had clued on to the fact that she could not read minds.
So, she would force the truths from their sealed lips by force.
“Yes, I am reckless. I am impulsive. I am new to you.” She confirmed with a nod, but she met Fury’s gaze with the same amount of ferocity he showed her. “But is he not? Is Thor not? Why is there this leniency with me?”
“You came to us in different circumstances-” Steve cut in, but Raya only laughed humourlessly as she turned to him.
“Different circumstances? Were we not both ousted from our families, a fact I know to be true from how relentlessly you seem to bring it up?” She snapped, but much of her anger had faded from her voice, the banging over her head only incentivising her words. “Are we both not suffering from a past you seem to frown upon?”
Raya set her eyes on Nat, who was watching her with curiosity in her gaze, and she lifted her head as she continued.
“I might have killed you. I might’ve killed Loki himself, something that seems to be only a laughable endeavour for some of you.” The sharpness in her words were meant for all of them, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tony flinch particularly harshly. “Where is the consideration for him that you somehow show me? Food and drink, soft conversations in containment, am I to believe he is treated in the same way?”
“Loki came to Earth with the sole purpose of ruling our planet and destroying our people!” Fury yelled, far louder than the uncomfortable mumblings of the Avengers, and then he was striding across the room towards her. “He wanted power, to crush us lesser beings as he put it, for no other reason than he was bored.”
Raya opened her mouth to rebut his angry words, but found she could not speak them into existence. They remained between her lips, burning on the tip of her tongue, the truth that she could never tell.
Loki’s remorse was his secret to keep.
Raya met Fury’s gaze as she took in a deep breath and steadied herself against the table.
“That may be so. But I have only caused issues in my arrival. My very existence here, it endangers your world and your people. Am I not a threat as he is?” She said, her voice lowered now, her fingers pressing into the wooden tabletop as she composed herself. “Shooting me with your poison is the only thing you have done right.”
Fury was glaring at her, and she only returned his gaze, silently overjoyed that finally someone was not displaying any fear. She would not go as far as to say fear was a weakness, it was what kept her breathing, after all, but it did grow exhausting to see it in everyone’s faces so consistently.
“What would you have us do? Our technology apparently fails at every turn with you.” Bruce was speaking again, and once again, Raya felt that chill run through her as she met his eyes. “Do you want us to hurt you?”
“Yes!” Raya shouted, her exasperation causing her words to become laced with a choked laugh. “Why haven’t you? I am lost and confused here; everything is so aggravatingly unlike what I know! Why is it that you offer kindness each time I fail you?”
Bruce blinked up at her, a new expression crossing his face, one that looked as if he had received the final piece of some puzzle in his mind.
Raya twisted her head to stare at the others, but they were all watching her with something sickening in their eyes: pity.
“Answer me!” She demanded, her chest suddenly aching from the weight of the compassionate gazes on her.
She did not understand the looks they gave each other. She did not understand the calm way that Natasha moved closer to her. She did not understand why they could not hear her.
“Whatever you believe we are doing to Loki, we aren’t.” Natasha said smoothly, and Raya stared at her, grateful for the way her features remained so agitated. “He is doing this to himself.”
A thud joined the next crash above them, and Raya looked down at her clenched hands, allowing her shoulders to relax, even as guilt riddled her next breath.
“As for the way we are treating you…” Natasha trailed off, glancing around at the others, and Raya watched her in confusion. “Kindness has been no one’s priority.”
Relief swelled in her chest, but she did not allow herself to show it on her face as she exhaled slowly.
“Are you sure?” Raya said, her eyes darting from Tony to Bruce, the latter who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the menacing air he had held disappearing as she stared him down.
“Banner wanted to kill you, if that makes you feel any better.” Tony said quickly, and Raya caught the fierce glare Bruce sent his way.
She nodded, stretching to crack her wrist back into place. She could understand this, the threat of death hanging ever present in the air.
“Good.” Her chains clinked as she cast a look to Fury, who was watching her intently, his jaw set. “Perhaps one of you will maintain your objectivity.”
Nat stiffened at her side, but Raya did not turn to her, nor did she turn to meet Clint’s burning gaze, keeping her eyes on Fury.
“I am trained to leave no survivors. I am a soldier.” Her stomach clenched as her mother’s words echoed sickening through her head, and her gaze only hardened. “The perfect soldier, but only by Cirian standards.”
Her fingertips curled around her chains, and her eyes darted to Steve for half a second, noting the way his head nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Whatever you believe, I can not read your minds, and I will not force my magic into your memories.” She set herself to stand straighter, her eyes narrowing slightly. “I can only follow orders if I am given them.”
Natasha had stepped away from her now, but Raya kept her gaze locked on Fury, the steady beeps of her two destabilisers the only sound to break the tense silence.
After a few moments of contemplation, Fury gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded in acknowledgment of her words, and Raya lowered her head respectfully towards him.
“Fine. Take her to the cells.” He said, and Raya held her head high as two agents stepped up next to her, hesitating to take her chains.
She simply cast a final look around the room, and then turned on her heel to face the door, allowing herself to be led to her torture.
Perhaps, when she finally felt the familiar sting of blades against her skin, when she was forced to swallow bloodied air spewed from another’s lips, this odd, aching feeling would vanish from her heart.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
6:39pm, May 8th, 2012.
The wreckage of the cell was what he had expected.
Pieces of steel had been pried from the walls and now littered the floor, twisted into crude weapons, and Thor sighed as he rested his hands on the bars of Loki’s cell.
His brother was breathing quickly, short and sharp gasps of air leaving him as he sat on the floor, but he was almost perfectly still, his eyes wide and glassy.
Thor paused, a harsh shock of regret washing through him as he stared at him, and it was as if he had been plunged back into the memories he’d supressed, his heart wrenching.
The sun was shining over the arena as Thor feinted to the right, his sword dipping under the guard of his partner.
His partner, an Asgardian boy a few decades older than him, narrowed his eyes angrily as the blade swiped across his ribs, and he returned the strike with renewed vigour.
Thor dodged the swipe, but as he lunged to the side, his foot caught on a grove in the dirt, and he was sent sprawling over the ground, groaning as the rocks that embedded the arena caught on his robes.
As the boy lifted his sword, a hiss came from Thor’s left, and a snake slipped up onto his chest, rearing its head as its green scales flashed dangerously.
The boy yelled in fear and dropped his sword, running away, and Thor let out a light laugh as he pushed himself off his back.
“Wonderful timing, brother.” He said, smiling warmly over at Loki as he shifted back to his regular form, and his words earned an excited smirk from the other boy.
“Well, I had to save you from beheading, did I not?” Loki quipped, and Thor clapped him over the shoulder as he laughed, squeezing his shoulders in a one-armed hug. “Side by side.”
Loki’s eyes glittered with warmth, unrestrained mischief curling the corners of his smile, and Thor felt a surge of appreciation sweep through him as he stared at his younger brother, nodding to his words.
“Forever.”
The memory faded, and Thor was left standing in the cold, watching as his brother shivered in the corner of a darkened cell, millions of lightyears from Asgard, the place they had once called home.
He didn’t know that Loki anymore. The one who fought at his side, who stole chalices full of sweetened wine and hid with him under lengthy tables, who had lifted his sword to him in excitement as they sparred, pretending to be the heroes their mother had read to them about.
Thor didn’t know the man before him at all. He didn’t know his secrets or his dreams, nothing besides his cruel and unyielding thirst for revenge that would never be satiated.
Blinded by his own stubbornness and youthful recklessness, he’d missed all the signs of his brother slowly drawing away. He’d missed the glances of admiration that turned to jealousy, the warm smiles that had shifted to taunting sneers.
Loki’s descent into darkness had been just as much his fault as it was his father’s.
“Are you going to stand there and gawk at me, brother, or did you have something to say?” Loki spat, his tone harsh, and Thor flinched at its severity as he blinked back idiotic tears.
Loki had turned to look at him, and it was now that he saw the blood that still painted his skin, even though many of the cuts he’d seen after the fight with Raya seemed to have long since disappeared. His eyes were dark, the corners reddened with unshed tears, but Thor knew it was foolish to stare.
“Why did you do it?” He asked, the words slipping out quickly, and he wasn’t sure which events he wanted a reply for more.
The question hung in the air as Loki exhaled shakily, a humourless laugh falling from his lips, and Thor watched as he cast his gaze out of the high window of his cell to the stars.
“Would you have preferred I remained at your side while she slaughtered those incompetent mortals?” Loki said, and the anger in his voice was searing, but it did not conceal the tremble in his words.
Thor narrowed his eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Loki’s features roil in apparent confusion, the mask he’d worn so proudly cracking.
“You did not answer my question.” He stated simply, keeping his expression calm as Loki’s knuckles turned white around his knees.
Loki murmured something to himself, his head snapping over to face the wall as his chest began to rise and fall rapidly once again, and Thor could not stop himself from stepping closer to the bars that separated them.
“Loki-”
“I do not know!”
Loki’s yell echoed through the small space, broken and breathless, rife with poisonous anger, and then he was on his feet, his hand pressed to his head as he squeezed his eyes shut.
Thor dropped his hands from the bars, folding them behind his back as he swallowed thickly, a harsh sense of sympathy tearing through his heart as he watched his brother pace his cell angrily.
“Is that what you want? To hear me say I do not know?” Loki spat, but Thor caught the tremble in his fingers as he ran them through his hair, tugging at the strands as his breath came out in rough gasps. “She was scared! I am- I-”
Thor turned his head slightly to the side in contemplation, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest as Loki refused to meet his eyes, clutching at his head in apparent agony.
“How did you know what would work?” Thor asked, slightly ashamed of himself for using Loki’s angry forthrightness to his advantage, but he pushed the feeling away.
“Because she told me.” Loki rasped, his breaths slipping past his lips quickly as he swayed on his feet, his hands clenching into fists at his side. “She does not know anything else, she-”
Thor narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched Loki’s hand press to his chest, scratching at his shirt as if searching for the comfort of something underneath, and he let out a shaky breath as he stepped further back from the bars.
Thor was not entirely sure what else to say, not sure what to ask to quell the growing confusion in his mind, but before he could formulate anything, Loki stiffened, his eyes going over his shoulder.
The door to the stairwell swung open and two agents stepped through, Raya following closely behind them, her face blank as her eyes slid over him, unseeing.
He heard Loki suck in a sharp breath, and when he turned around, his brother’s eyes were locked on the goddess as the cell beside him was unlocked and she walked in silently.
Thor parted his lips, confused questions sticking to his throat, but as Loki’s eyes darted back over to him, his eyes once again simmering with rage, he quickly swallowed the words.
The beeping of Raya and Loki’s destablisers echoed through the quiet cells as the agents hurriedly moved past, whispering agitatedly to each other, and Thor stepped away from his brother, turning over his words in his mind.
There was a tearing sound from Raya’s cell, and he looked through the bars to see her standing rigidly in the centre, her hand clutched around a piece of metal she had torn from the wall.
Her breaths were slow as she looked up to meet his eyes, and Thor knew she could not really see him, but he still winced as her flesh squelched horribly under the press of steel.
Raya did not yell, she did not scream, she did not even move as she drove the spike into her leg, the only sign of any discomfort the slight shift in the weight of her breath as it left her lips.
Thor swallowed hard as he watched dark rivulets of blood fall in smooth patterns over her bodysuit, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he turned away, his stomach roiling slightly.
Loki was watching him intently, his eyes wide, his head tilted towards the sound of the blood as it dripped steadily onto the floor, and Thor simply gazed at him, waiting.
The look of lost hopelessness in Loki’s eyes reminded him of the moment on top of Stark Tower when he had forced Loki to look out at the destruction he was causing.
The way his eyes had glinted then, the madness, the anger, all draining away until he looked utterly horrified, had plagued Thor’s dreams since, and it unsettled him to see it again now.
He gave Loki a few more seconds to speak, but Raya’s arrival seemed to have only cemented his defiance, and Thor turned away slowly, trying to ignore the repeated slashing noises from Raya’s cell as they echoed wetly through the air.
There was no use stopping her, he knew it. She would find a way; she would always find a way.
He heard Loki collapse behind him, but he did not turn to look, simply slipping through the door into the stairwell, his heart aching with regret.
Loki was not one to share information easily, so his insistence that he did not know why he’d fought Raya was not one he believed. However, the thought of his terrified eyes as he’d clawed at his chest followed Thor through the ship’s hallways, not fading even as he followed the sound of Natasha’s voice to the conference room.
“I’ve been looking for any traces of Raya or her family in our history.” She was saying, and her eyes darted up to meet his for a moment before she returned her gaze to the electronic board before her. “And I think I’ve found something.”
“We have no record of anyone like her. How could you have found anything?” Fury said, moving to her side, and as Thor sidled up to the table, Nat waved her hand erratically towards him.
“Norse Gods are apparently real. What makes you think the rest aren’t?” She murmured, and Thor blinked in surprise as the other Avengers all cast contemplating looks towards him.
Thor took a seat, silently folding his hands in front of him, internally glad that no one spoke to him in light of Natasha’s distraction, his mind whirring with too much information.
Natasha swiped up on her board and an image of a symbol he did not recognise popped up on the screen; a line with two half circles pressed to its sides.
“The five fingered hand of Eris.” She said, and though her expression did not change, her tone indicated her triumph. “But in Roman mythology, they called her Discordia.”
Tony’s head perked up from his computer, and even Bruce seemed interested as Natasha flicked more web pages up onto the screen before them.
Steve looked less than impressed, but, with a quick glance at Thor, he simply set his jaw and did not speak.
“The goddess of chaos, rivalry and mutiny.” Natasha continued, her eyes shining as the pieces connected in Thor’s mind, and he sat forwards to listen more intently. “A minor Roman goddess representing conflict, based within a military context.”
“Sounds like her.” Clint said from his space in the corner, and Thor found himself nodding as he ran through the words in his head. “How’d you find this?”
Natasha’s lips tightened in a small smile, and her eyes drifted up towards the screen as a translator appeared in the top right corner.
“I thought that, given Thor and Loki both have a foundation in our religions, that she might as well.” She said calmly, yet more browsers with rolling sites of information beginning to surround her. “She speaks Latin, so I thought of the Romans.”
She spoke all of this as if it were rather obvious, and Thor shifted slightly in his seat as he considered her words.
The others seemed just as taken aback, Clint and Steve trading confused glances with each other as Tony’s fingers remained frozen on his keyboard, his head tilted up as he watched the screen flicker.
Nick Fury’s expression remained unchanged.
“Discordia’s worshippers use blood rituals to gain her attention. In some roundabout way, that might explain the fact that she drinks her own blood.” Natasha continued, and Thor’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Is there a point to this speculation?” Fury asked, his gaze cold as he studied the surrounding screens, but Nat seemed unphased as she pushed on.
“Raya said the Kleviah are finding a breeding ground. They’re on track for somewhere in Europe, and the last transmission to come through from our base in Barcelona said their radars picked up on unregistered aerial activity just half an hour ago.”
There was no mistaking the finality in her tone, and Thor could not help but be impressed by how quickly she had drawn the conclusion.
“If Raya is this goddess, then Rome would be home to her temples, or to some place of worship for her followers, not that she would know they exist.” Nat said, and a map materialised right over her head, several buildings circled in red.
Thor saw the now familiar gleam of conviction shining in her eyes, and he couldn’t stop it as his lips perked up slightly.
“They’re headed straight for Rome, like migrating birds return to the same roosts every year. Something is drawing them in, something they know.”
A beat of silence, and then Nat took in a deep breath, her shoulders lifting into a shrug as she looked towards Fury.
“Maybe, it will draw Raya in too.”
Chapter 10: Death Is No More
Summary:
WHATS UP GUYS, it's me, the most irritating motherfucker on the planet, time for some more sad shit!!! I am so tired, and this chapter is a byproduct of internal stress, Adele songs and a sickening number of adjectives for the word 'said', as well as so many uses of the word 'blood' (seriously guys, there's so much).
Anyway, that said, hope everyone enjoys this chapter! shout out to everyone for their kind comments and for the complex character evaluations sent to me by some of my readers (y'all know who you are, you're amazing), it makes me soooo much more motivated for this! Chapter 11 will hopefully be written soon, but plot actually has to happen then, and ewww plot, wdym there's plot in my plot driven fanfiction, that's so weird, who could've seen this coming???
Thank you again, wonderful people, for all the comments and bookmarks and kudos. YOU'RE FANTASTIC! have a good day/night/evening/whatever, and enjoy!
chapter title is from Death Is No More by BLESSEDMANE.
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
4:36am, May 9th, 2012.
Everything was burning.
His arms, his chest, his legs, his heart.
He was being stifled by the harsh, unending waves of searing pain, and his mouth would not move to let him scream.
Loki’s eyes could not see, and yet they screamed to be plucked from his skull, to escape the torment of a pain so cruel he could not breathe.
The silence was deafening as he writhed, locked into suffering only he could feel, with no one coming to save him.
His ribs shattered once again, broken by a bloodied fist, but his tongue would not move, his mouth only opening to spill blood from between his lips.
The Great One could see him. He could always see him. He was never truly free.
He never could be.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
4:47am, May 9th, 2012.
To breathe was to suffer.
Life’s unholy and obscene atrocity was to believe it was a gift.
Loki cradled his aching head in his hands, pressing his palms harshly against his eyes as the remnants of his nightmare drifted away, his skin wet with tears.
The blurry figures had several faces, but he was too tired to recall them now, and he stared blankly at the wall that separated him from Raya, moving to run his shaking fingers through his unruly curls.
Raya was not breathing as she had been before he’d succumbed to sleep; each inhale was measured, each exhale released quietly, but it lacked the peacefulness of her earlier sleep.
He groaned to himself, trying to find something else to fixate on, but as her voice issued from behind the wall, a panicky sense of fear ignited in his chest.
“You are very restless.”
Loki scoffed, his fingers pressing against the thin line between the metal plates that made up his destabiliser.
“My deepest sympathies. How wounded I am that my agitation has caused you discomfort.” Loki muttered, but his words were not as sharp as he wished them to be.
He was too tired for the bravado he’d barely clutched to while his brother had interrogated him.
Raya was silent, and for a moment, a sudden coldness gripped him at the idea of scaring her off, but then he angrily dug his nails into his arm and shook the errant thought off.
“I am not used to sleeping near others.” She finally said, her tone perfectly even, and Loki could not quash the slightest flicker of relief that burned within him as she replied. “Your heartbeat is loud here.”
“You can hear my heartbeat?” Loki said, his voice betraying his surprise, and traitorously, he felt his heart stutter in his chest.
“If it is quiet enough.” Raya said softly, and he heard her shift from behind the wall, as if she were sitting up.
Loki continued to gaze at the wall that parted them, trying to force the anger he could feel curled like a snake inside his chest towards the unyielding metal, but he could not muster up the strength.
It was now, as his mind whirred in the silence, that he ran through everything he wished to ask her, no matter how harshly his mind tried to reject the idea.
After all, the very conditions of his so-called freedom were based on how much information he could get out of her. He lost nothing by questioning her.
A small voice in the back of Loki’s mind whispered that his excuse was extremely weak, that his brother’s promise of independence was most likely null and void now, but he brushed it aside.
“Your heart cannot make up its mind.” Raya’s voice came again, and Loki jumped slightly, gripping his knee tightly to quell the fear that swept through him. “It gets faster when you are silent, as if you are distressed.”
“My feelings are not your concern.” Loki said quickly, and his chest ached.
He did not even know what he was experiencing, this jumbled mess of emotions that seeped into his rationality like poison and stole his coherency, but he did not want her to know that.
“I know.” Raya murmured, and Loki tapped his fingers on his knee as he stared at the wall, uncomfortable with the uncertainty in his heart. “I will not tell anyone of them.”
Something in the way she said the last few words made Loki tilt his head in interest, and he straightened up against the wall as he considered his next words carefully.
“Why would you?”
Loki’s eyes flicked up to the small window in his cell, the sound of the waves splashing against the boat strangely calming, and he studied the stars still shining in the sky, albeit much paler as the sun approached the horizon.
Star.
“I am unsure what they would do here.” Raya said, and for a second, he thought he heard a whisper of hesitation lace her words. “But on Cirica, you would be killed for experiencing them so openly.”
Her words left a bruise on his pride, but before he could retort angrily, she spoke again softly.
“But we are not on Cirica.”
The whisper hung heavily in the air, a string of syllables suffused with a pain and wistfulness he did not understand, and some part of him found comfort in how lost she sounded.
He knew what it was, to be lost.
Loki took in a deep breath, letting his anger cool, allowing the dread thrumming through him with each beat of his heart to abate, and then he whispered back,
“No. We are not.”
The silence they lapsed into was not unpleasant, and Loki once again found himself with too many words, and not enough presence of mind to speak them.
How long had it been since anyone had willingly engaged in conversation with him? He had said plenty to the Avengers when he meant to subjugate their world, but that had been angry insistences that lead to furious blows and threatening insults.
Loki’s head ached as he tried to cast his mind back further, and he dismissed the train of thought; it was a stupid, useless, and unimportant idea to dwell on.
He breathed out slowly, tilting his head to rest against the wall, and he heard Raya sigh in something like relief as he did.
“Is my heart keeping you from your sleep?” Loki asked, his voice lilting up into a taunt, but he could not put any extra force behind the words.
“No.” Raya’s voice was much quieter, tinged with a more obvious sense of exhaustion, and he had to concentrate to hear her better. “It is better now.”
Loki sat like that for a long while, his hands folded in his lap, his eyes turned towards the window, watching as the sun bled into the lightly clouded sky, many colours spilling forth to create a tapestry of warmth.
Raya’s soft breaths seemed to echo through the small space, and in his mind’s eye, he could see her lying splayed on the floor, just as she had been to the bed in the infirmary, just as she had been on the steel of her cage.
He kept his breathing steady, for his own peace of mind, and as the sun slipped through the barred window and caressed his cheeks, Loki realised that this time, Raya had not awoken screaming.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
7:33am, May 9th, 2012.
“We promised, Nat.”
“I didn’t promise anything.”
Clint exhaled hard as he pushed a plate of bacon and eggs towards Natasha, but she only looked up at him with calm eyes, and he slid into the seat beside her as his hands clasped around a cup of hot coffee.
“Fury promised her for us.” He reminded her, watching as her stubborn expression shifted for half a moment. “She needs orders, not friends.”
Despite the truth in his words, he felt his heart ache unfairly, and he quickly swallowed any hurt that bubbled up in his chest in a sip from his drink.
Never drink coffee made by Thor again.
“I don’t want to do it.” Natasha replied, and, ignoring the way his head spun from the strength of his coffee, he sighed exasperatedly.
“Unfortunately, we don’t all get what we want.”
Natasha’s hands did not move from where they were folded in front of her, and he knew it was stupid to try and force her to eat.
Despite all her current determination to ignore direct orders, Clint knew she wasn’t being difficult for nothing. There was an uncertainty in her eyes, coupled with a queasiness he found himself far too acquainted with.
“You can’t feel good about this.” Natasha said, turning her eyes on him again, and he shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.
“I never said I did, but this is what Raya wants.” He said, a sigh slipping past his lips as he watched Natasha’s gaze harden. “No, I don’t like it, but that doesn’t matter. We need to do it, for her own sake, and our safety.”
Nat did not speak, but Clint could practically hear every grievance she had swirling around her head as she dropped her gaze to the food he’d given her, and he hated the sight of worry on her face.
Teaching Raya how to interact around humans wasn’t exactly the mission Clint had assumed would come from her arrival, but now that it was upon him, he thought it was stupid he hadn’t even thought of it before.
He’d been surviving from one unpredictable moment to the next, but he should’ve known when Raya had asked him to explain how to apologise.
Her shouting match with Fury had reminded him very quickly just how strange everything must be for her, and he’d laid awake for half the night trying to figure out how to go about sharing his knowledge of things he considered ‘not a big deal’.
“Legolas. Red.”
Clint looked up to see Tony sliding into the kitchen, and he watched as he immediately yanked open a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of very strong whiskey, then downed half of it with a hiss.
“Rough night?” He asked, and Tony nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose as he collapsed in the chair at the head of the table.
“Trying to figure out this whole mess.”
He agitatedly knocked the side of his bottle against the table, and Clint made a quiet noise in acknowledgement.
Natasha stayed silent, and Clint watched as that familiar mask of cold crept back over her face, concealing her worries and drowning them in indifference.
Damnit.
There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he’d never get it out of her now, not with someone she labelled a potential threat barely a foot away from them.
“She can hear heartbeats.” Tony continued, laughing under his breath, and Clint caught the slightly wild look in his eyes as he ran his hands through his hair. “So, she’s got even better senses than the fucking Asgardians, which is just really comforting.”
“How did you find out?” Natasha’s voice chimed in just as Clint rolled his eyes at the sarcasm in Tony’s voice, and the man waved his hand in the air as if trying to shoo away the question.
“Through the cameras. She told Loki. His was keeping her awake.”
Natasha stiffened ever so slightly, and Clint’s eyes narrowed slightly at her strange reaction, but she did not look at her, and he knew it was stupid to ask her about it now.
“She seems to tell him an awful lot.”
Clint gritted his teeth at the sound of Bruce’s voice from behind him, and he concealed his disdain behind a slow sip of his coffee.
The bitterness in the drink was only rivalled by his own feelings as Banner stepped into his line of vision, the circles under his eyes more obvious under the electric light.
“Maybe, because he’s spent more time with her than all of us combined.” Tony said, and Clint noted the way his tone had darkened, his expression tightening in the face of a challenge. “She seems more… well, comfortable isn’t the right word, but she hasn’t killed him yet.”
“It isn’t for a lack of trying.” Natasha murmured, her eyes fixed firmly on the tabletop, and Clint had to cover his chuckle with a cough.
Bruce did not look impressed at the explanation as he hesitated in the doorway, his eyes shifting between the three of them, as if unsure whether they would allow him inside.
Clint met his gaze with a tight-lipped smile, warming his hands against the sides of his cup as he silently regarded his dishevelled figure.
As much as he disliked the man at the moment, they had to spend the next week on this boat together, which was already an unbearable amount of time packed in a buoyant metal tube. Nothing good or useful would come from ignoring him, so he reluctantly tilted his head, gesturing for him to enter.
When neither of the others spoke up, Bruce stepped closer, sitting across from Clint, and once again, something in Nat’s demeanour shifted.
He didn’t have the energy to address it however, and he simply looked up at Tony and asked,
“Did you overhear anything else?”
Tony jumped at being spoken to directly, knocking the bottle of whiskey with his hand and almost sending it toppling over before he quickly righted himself.
“She said something about being killed for having emotions on her planet.” Tony said, his words slightly slurred as he rubbed his forehead with a trembling hand. “Just another fucked up tidbit about her upbringing.”
Clint’s heart felt as if it was being forced through a blender, and he stared at the swirling contents of his cup as he absorbed the words.
Her reaction to touching his hand earlier made much more sense now. Not only had she been waiting for him to hit her, but she’d been expecting him to kill her for panicking about it.
Selfishly, he allowed himself to hope that his assurances had cleared away any of her residual worry, but as he remembered her terrified screams from the day before, he grimaced.
Of course it hadn’t.
“She also told Loki she wouldn’t tell anyone he had feelings.” Tony muttered; his words laced with disbelief as he shook his head. “God forbid his public image were ruined.”
Natasha’s fingers tapped repeatedly on the table, her gaze still lowered, but as Clint glanced at her, he could almost see her storing the information away, building a profile in her mind, and he sighed.
“Sounds like there’s no hard feelings after yesterday then.” He said, his gaze shifting to Tony, and he nodded as he flicked the lid of his bottle across the table to Bruce.
“Apparently not. At least we can expect civility from some people.” Tony murmured, and Clint inwardly groaned as Bruce’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
“I feel as if we should address the fact that she seems to be afraid of water.” A voice cut in from behind them, and never before had Clint been so grateful to see Steve, his arms folding over his chest as he leant against the doorframe. “Did anyone ask her why?”
Guilt swept through Clint as the Captain’s words silenced the room, and his mind was reeling as he tried to process them.
“Her abilities look to be energy based.” Bruce said, his voice quiet, almost as if he were unwilling to offer up any of his thoughts about the goddess. “Maybe it will kill her if it touches her.”
“I’m sure you’re thrilled at the idea of having such an easy way to dispose of her.” Tony muttered, but before Bruce could respond, his expression contorting in anger, Natasha looked up.
“Stop it. Both of you.”
Her voice was cold, and Clint shot her a lingering look, trying to decipher her expression, but even to his eyes, it was unreadable.
“You are acting like children, and it is exhausting.” Natasha continued, and though her tone was calm, he saw both Tony and Bruce recoil as if stung by her words. “There are too many questions, not enough answers, and we are foregoing asking the one person who would actually be able to give us what we need.”
Clint slid his hand subtly under the table, holding it out towards her, and after a beat of contemplation, Nat’s fingers curled around his, a shaky breath falling from her lungs as she composed herself.
“Are you volunteering to talk to Raya?” Steve asked, and as Clint looked over at him, he saw his eyes narrow in consideration.
Natasha’s features tightened, her lips parting, but no words left her, and Clint rushed forwards to fill the silence, squeezing Nat’s hand reassuringly.
“I’ll do it.” He deflected, and as the group’s attention was redirected to him, he caught the slight sag of relief in Nat’s shoulders. “It’ll be easier to bring up the idea of her talking to the HYDRA agent then.”
Steve made a disgruntled sound as he stepped into the kitchen, but Clint did not follow him with his eyes, very aware how sensitive the topic was for him.
It’s like walking on a minefield in here.
He’d walked on plenty of minefields before, and usually, there was a pattern to them. This volatile group, a ticking time bomb, as Bruce had once put it, was much more difficult to make sense of.
“I doubt our new guest will be much up for talking.” Tony said under his breath, but he was immediately interrupted by Bruce, who murmured,
“You think she’ll listen to us?”
Clint fought to keep from rolling his eyes as he turned towards him, running his thumb soothingly over Nat’s knuckles, as much for himself as it was for her.
“If she’s ordered to.”
He tried to ignore the displeased tightening of Nat’s jaw, lifting his coffee to his lips and sipping it thoughtfully as he glanced around the group.
Minefield.
As if summoned by his fitting metaphor, a symbol of yet more complex and overwhelming emotions, Thor appeared in the doorway, his expression drawn, and his eyes shadowed.
It seemed as if every part of his body was tensed, and, strangely, he saw Natasha sit up as Thor walked towards them, her hand loosening in his.
“Good morning.” He heard Steve say politely, and Thor grunted, shaking his head as he murmured,
“If only.”
Clint sipped his coffee slowly, straightening in his seat, trying to ignore the familiar burn of tension in the air.
Thor did not look at anyone directly, simply walking towards the fridge, a barely noticeable tremble in his hands as he wrenched the door open.
Clint wasn’t sure what more to say. When Thor’s eyes flicked over to meet his, he looked away quickly, redirecting his gaze to the table, an uncomfortable feeling thrumming through him at the look on the god’s face.
It was almost haunted, and whatever had been enough to horrify him, Clint knew better than to ask about.
He was almost grateful for the screaming that tore through the air moments later, a now familiar, choking cry that pierced through his brain, and Nat shot him a knowing look.
“Wonder who that is.” Tony mused, his words fraught with derision, and Clint sighed as he pushed himself begrudgingly to his feet.
Thor pushed past him, his movements agitated as he clutched at whatever food he’d gotten from the fridge, and Clint steeled himself as he moved to follow him.
Nat’s presence at his side made him feel somewhat more comforted, but as the screaming continued, he felt his heart thudding harshly against his chest.
It would be easy to convince Raya to talk to the agent; all he really had to do was tell her, and she’d obey, and as uncomfortable as that made him, he tried to lock those unruly emotions down.
However, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that he was not at all prepared of the events of the day, and the very thought sent a wave of queasiness rolling through him.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
8:13am, May 9th, 2012.
It was strange, to walk around the ship, as Clint called it, without chains constricting her hands, but she did not dare complain.
Her body was aching, her stomach growling, but she was too used to the feeling to pay it much mind anymore, simply following behind Thor, Nat and Clint as they led her past hallways crafted by metal.
In the silence, she could hear their hearts, steadily beating with each breath they took, and she focused her energy on matching their steps, even as her eyes wandered left and right.
Eyes were on her with each corner they turned, agents watching from their seats as they whispered softly to each other, and her skin prickled at their attention.
Raya had always hated being watched, and she was much too acquainted to the dread that settled into her bones at the sensation of it.
She glanced beside her, and caught Loki’s head turning away from her, fixing on the three in front of them. His movements were smooth as he moved beside her, and she pulled her gaze away from him as the door before them slid open with a soft hiss.
“Alright.” Nat said, her voice sharp, and Raya stepped up next to her, taking in the room around them. “You sure you will be able to do this?”
The air stung as she inhaled, a scent so sharp that she could almost taste it, and she narrowed her eyes at the shining surfaces around her, all clean and gleaming under the bright lights.
Everything was so intense on Midgard. Why did they need this many lights everywhere?
“Yes.” She replied quietly to Natasha’s question, stepping towards the glass that separated her from the twitchy man. “I will get his memories and give them to Thor, because that is the safest way to share them. Then we will be able to get rid of him.”
Raya had repeated her orders in her head a million times since Clint had told them to her earlier, and Natasha seemed comforted by her words, so she decided she must have done something correctly.
Clint moved forwards and unlocked the door, resting his hand on the doorknob, and she gave him a quick look, nodding her head to reassure him of her competence before she stepped inside.
The light was unbearably bright now, the walls taking on a white sheen, but she did not focus on them, training her gaze on the man tied to a chair before her.
Half of his face was seared off, his jaw hanging open unnaturally, and she felt pride swell inside her chest at the sight of his eyes widening with recognition as she walked closer.
Her hand twisted around her destabiliser, silently glad they had removed the other before sending her to do this; her senses seemed to be becoming duller from extended use of them both, but she knew that was more than likely their prerogative.
The man began to thrash in the chair, and she glanced back at the group behind the glass, surprised that she could not see them, the glass apparently becoming solid since she’d stepped inside.
Slowly, she pulled her gloves from her hands, allowing them to fall to the floor, and she tilted her head, simply watching as the man fought to try and get away from her.
How strange.
Perhaps, on Earth, they did not face torture the way her people did.
She lifted her hand towards his face, and a thrill of heat shot through her as energy burned through her veins, a sigh falling from her lips at the feeling.
The destabiliser hissed irritably, and as the shocks started up her arm, Raya breathed in slowly, closing her eyes as the man’s muffled cries filled the room.
Red light began to float up around her, sharpening into a harsh point as she clicked her fingers once.
She opened her eyes as the man’s head snapped over to her, and she clicked her fingers again, still breathing slowly as her palm moved to hover over his face.
The edges of her vision darkened, crimson seeping into the corners, and as he met her eyes, a heady rush of exhilaration shot through her at the horror in his expression.
Then she clicked her fingers again, and his face fell, completely empty, his eyes blank.
The shard of red light pulsed, and Raya smiled as she drove it deeply into his mind, his memories rushing into hers with a flash of shimmering carmine.
There was a dead body lying on the ground before him, its eyes ripped from its skull, its head bashed into the floor. Pieces of bone and flesh laid in the pool of blood beneath it, and the face of Waylon Jones was an unrecognisable mess of bloodied skin.
Julian heaved the body over his shoulder, ignoring the nausea rolling through him at the heavy weight, at the way blood seeped through his jacket and touched his skin.
As he glanced behind him, his stomach churned, watching as the flesh began to writhe in the pool of blood, bone fragments contorting into a vague star shape.
A glimmer of red sparked through the horrific thing, and he hurriedly slammed the door behind him, his heart racing in his chest.
Raya sucked in a deep breath, her hand shaking as she held it over his skull.
Her mother was getting to the humans already. How? How? Had the throne accepted her? Had she gained all the power she had fought so hard to keep away from her, and was she now serving The Great One as his five-star general, as opposed to one of his lieutenants?
“Where are they going? We need to find them, before they find us.”
An old man was pacing the floor, his eyes wild as his chest heaved, and his hands were trembling. On his chest, the pin they shared glinted in the dull light.
“Of course, sir.” Julian’s words were smooth, practised, and then he was leaving the room, glancing at the man with the silver arm standing in the corner.
A shiver ran through him at the cold look in his eyes, and he hurriedly looked away.
The soldier. Nat’s soldier, not Steve.
Raya’s hand tightened into a claw as wave after wave of memories slammed into her, and as each resurfaced, her arm trembled with the shocks of the destabiliser.
HYDRA.
The words flashed before his eyes as he stepped out of the elevator, his hands tight around his gun.
NATASHA ROMANOFF. STEVE ROGERS. THE WINTER SOLDIER.
Papers pushed in front of him, names glimmering in black ink.
“Find them or die trying.”
Screaming behind locked doors, but he did not turn his head. That was normal here.
“Stay with them. Let them take you.”
She could not bear it any longer.
Raya ripped her hand away from the man, watching as he convulsed, red light encircling his throat, his chest, his stomach as rage burned through her.
Hunger, as he shook, his broken cries as his jaw remained clenched shut with binding tape making her fingers shake.
His memories were swirling around her head, and she could not decipher what they meant, HYDRA, those pins. Why were Natasha and Steve there?
He meant to follow them. Did this man work for her mother, just like the one in his memories? Did he mean to slaughter her, kill her like her mother didn’t, a servant bowed by a beast’s will?
“Get rid of him.”
Heartbeats racing, she could hear them, feel them, beating as hers did, and her mouth was aching as the man before her shivered, his eyes widening with a terrible sense of fear.
Someone was yelling her name.
Blood.
Her nails were cutting through her skin, so smooth and familiar.
Blood.
The metallic scent so strong, so overwhelming.
Blood.
His sternum shattered so easily under her fingers.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
8:34am, May 9th, 2012.
Loki did not know what he expected to come from this.
Truthfully, he was unsure why he was even here; if Natasha’s tight jaw and Clint’s uneasy gaze meant anything, it certainly not been a matter Thor had discussed with them.
All he had known when he fell into step beside Raya earlier was that they were going to see another prisoner, the man Raya had nearly killed during their outing into a Midgardian shopping mall, and that he would be watching him be interrogated.
He had not been informed of the fact that Raya herself would be the one going in, nor that she would be alone, or that his jaw had been broken at all.
It certainly didn’t stop him from screaming as his ribs were torn from his abdomen.
Raya’s hands were digging into the man’s back now, and he caught a flash of bloodied nails before she sliced open the skin along his spine, her eyes flickering red.
That manic smile was back, and a thrill of panic shot through him as his mouth went dry, his vision tunnelling as he gripped the table before him, unable to look away.
His brother and the others were all standing frozen beside him, their hands raised to their mouths or hanging in the air as if their minds were failing to comprehend the scene playing out before them, too horrified to put a stop to it.
The man’s screams were harsh and broken, his head hanging forwards as he tried to writhe away from Raya’s touch, but her flames raced along his skin as claws dug into his back and tore another rib out to hang uselessly from his flesh.
Raya licked a stripe of blood from her wrist, and Loki’s stomach flipped as he realised her teeth were sharpened into serrated points.
A loud crack echoed through the room, and a rush of blood pooled around Raya’s feet as she reached into the man’s back and snapped his spine with one hand, her eyes glittering with excitement.
The man’s chest was heaving, but his body went limp, and something like a growl reverberated through Loki’s head, instilling him with a horrific dread as Raya’s hand disappeared into the man’s back once again.
When she pulled it back out, a still beating heart shivering in her palm as blood trickled down her arm, Loki blinked, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he bit his tongue.
He did not dare look at the others, focusing on keeping his breaths measured as his fingers trembled, watching Raya’s tongue trace slowly over the thrumming heart, before she sank her teeth into it, her expression immediately flooding with bliss.
Raya’s throat bobbed as she hungrily swallowed pieces of it, blood painting her lips and skin a deep crimson, and Loki heard Natasha inhale shakily beside him.
“We forgot to feed her.”
Her voice was barely a whisper, muffled behind her hand, but they rang sharply through Loki’s head as he watched Raya’s hand lift again, her claws cutting cleanly through the man’s throat and sending another wave of blood over the white floors.
Perhaps almonds were not enough to sustain her.
Raya’s lips were pulled up into a ferocious, almost animalistic smile as she tore pieces of flesh from the man’s lifeless form, blood splattering over her chest and face as her jaw unhinged, and she ripped a chunk of skin from his shoulder.
“Raya.” Clint’s voice was shaking slightly as he pressed a button on the desk before them, and Raya’s head lazily lifted from the man’s shoulder, blood dripping from her canines. “That’s enough for now.”
Loki felt very unsteady as the goddess’ eyes wandered up to the roof, apparently searching for the source of Clint’s voice, and he dug his nails into the table as he swayed slightly.
Thor’s hand reached up to grasp his forearm, and Loki found he didn’t have the will to fight off his brother’s crushing grip, silently grateful for the stability he provided.
Raya dipped her head, tearing a piece of flesh from the man’s forearm with her teeth before straightening up, the look in her eyes much softer now, her gaze unfocused as she walked towards the door.
She pulled it open easily, the hinges creaking irritably as the scent of blood crept into the room, but her features did not shift, her expression far more at ease than Loki had ever seen it.
“Human blood tastes… weird.” She murmured, the ghost of a smile turning up the corners of her lips as she swayed slightly on the spot. “Not bad. Nice.”
Loki kept his eyes on her, his heart still racing in his chest as he stared at her blood-soaked form, but when she lifted her bare hand towards him, he flinched so violently that Thor stumbled back, his grip on his arm loosening immediately.
He knew that if the others were in any state to, he would’ve heard them laugh, but now, the room was deathly silent.
“I will share his memories now.” Raya said, her voice still quiet, and Loki watched as her tongue flicked out to run over her teeth, cleaning away some of the blood. “His name… it was Julian Alveraz.”
Raya nodded to herself, her face falling into a solemn expression, but then a hiccup bubbled up from her throat and she stumbled slightly as the boat rocked under her feet.
Both Natasha and Clint took half a step forward, their hands raised as if to catch her, but then they froze in place, apparently thinking better of it.
“Dizzy…” Raya muttered, leaning against a nearby table and splattering blood over the white counters. “Mortals are different…”
Loki tilted his head in confusion as Raya’s gloves soared through the open door and over her fingers as she held her hands up into the air, and his chest tightened at the surprised sound that fell from her lips.
Oh, for Norns sake-
Red light flickered around Raya’s arms, sending a harsh glow over her soft features, and Thor stepped forwards reluctantly, his expression contorted with barely controlled nausea.
“This should not hurt you.” Raya said, jumping as one of her hands began melting through the tabletop, aluminium painting her glove grey as she hiccupped again. “…I think. I have only done this a few times.”
Loki fought against the irritating urge to step in front of his brother as he caught the look of unease on his face, keeping himself perfectly still, his hands folded in front of him.
If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought Raya was drunk, but it was impossible to get drunk off blood.
He sighed internally as Raya hovered her palm over Thor’s outstretched hand, his eyes locked on her magic as it swirled around their arms.
Underestimating her hadn’t ended well so far. He had no reason to start now.
Thor’s face fell blank, and the panic that seized Loki’s heart was difficult to swallow, but he forced his expression to remain impassive.
Raya’s extended hand remained steady as red light connected their skin, and a soft hiss escaped her as her other arm trembled with shocks from the destabiliser.
If Raya felt the breathless tension that consumed the room around her, her face certainly didn’t show it, but her eyes did narrow minutely as her eyes flared red.
Loki could feel the others shifting uncertainly at his side, more uncomfortable with the fact that Thor was no longer capable of protecting them from him or from the sheer power radiating off Raya, he couldn’t be sure.
His fingers curled at his side, idly tapping the side of his destabiliser, attempting appear much more composed than he felt, but he did not breathe again until the light returned to Thor’s eyes.
His brother blinked rapidly, his breaths shaky as he shook his head from side to side, and Raya moved slightly closer, her hand raised as if in a placating gesture.
“Thank… you.” Thor said in an uncertain voice, taking an unsteady step away from her, and Raya looked confusedly at her own hand before dropping it to her side.
“Can you still remember your name?” Raya asked, and Loki fought the sudden rush of mirth that swept through him at the sincerity in her voice.
Thor did chuckle weakly, his hand going up to press to his forehead, and Loki wasn’t sure why relief swelled in his chest as he nodded.
Raya bowed her head in an almost contemplating gesture, before she spun around very quickly, her eyes flicking longingly back towards the mutilated corpse of the man in the other room.
“Hungry…” She muttered as she turned to look at him, then towards Nat and Clint.
Loki caught sight of her teeth, still sharpened and stained with blood, before his eyes drifted back to her earnest expression, reading the clear question in her eyes.
“I’ll stay and keep an eye on her.” Natasha said, nodding towards Thor as her features into something kinder, all traces of her earlier discomfort gone. “Go, get copies of everything you can, talk to Fury.”
Loki stiffened as Thor turned to him, raising his hands to usher him out of the room, but he found himself frozen with an unwillingness he didn’t understand.
“I guess… go ahead, kid.” Clint said, his voice tinged with uncertainty, but Raya simply gazed at him until he firmly added, “Yes. Finish it.”
The same growling noise from earlier met Loki’s ears again, and his heart thudded harshly in his chest as he realised it had come from her, but before he could comprehend that new revelation further, Thor’s hand clamped down on his shoulder.
“With us, brother.” He directed sternly, and Loki shrugged his hand off angrily, shooting him a glare as Clint pushed past them both, looking queasy.
The sound of tearing flesh began again, and he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes roaming over Natasha’s cool expression before finding Raya, watching as she easily tore the man’s arm off his shoulder.
Her eyes were shining with bloodlust, but her strikes were much more deliberate now, cutting thin stripes along the man’s neck before sinking her teeth into his flesh.
Thor pushed him roughly, and Loki’s eyes snapped back to him, fighting the childish urge to shove him back as he began to follow Clint’s footsteps.
Perhaps he needed to hold Raya in a higher regard. Her brutality, rather than repulsing him so completely as it did the others, intrigued him somehow. There was an ease in the way she did it, as if she had never considered another alternative, and as much as it unsettled him, it was interesting.
He couldn’t say the same for anyone of the Avengers. They were only mortal after all, they could never match up to a being of this much ability. They could not even handle his brother. They baulked at his every indiscretion, no matter how trivial, taking no liberties to hide their disdain for him.
Briefly, Loki wondered whether Raya had been subjected to their ridicule as he had, but the idea of contemplating such a thing made his stomach roil so uncomfortably that he shut it down immediately.
What the Avengers did was their business, and he wasn’t in the habit of caring about Raya’s emotional state, nor anyone else’s.
Loki scoffed softly to himself, catching his brother’s disapproving gaze on him, and he set his jaw in annoyance.
It did not matter, nothing here did, and he didn’t care. He couldn’t care, because no matter what Raya believed, he did not adhere to any sense of mortal emotions.
Loki took in a deep breath as he glanced around, careful not to allow the emotions currently churning inside his stomach to show on his face; Clint’s face was still an unnatural shade of green, and each time he caught a glimpse of Thor, his eyes were fixed dead ahead, his expression empty.
How would the other Avengers take the information that one of their prisoners enjoyed the taste of human flesh? Loki found himself genuinely contemplating the idea, more so for his own enjoyment than any concern for their mental states, but as they walked down the hallway, he concluded that they would’ve been stupid to assume nothing like this could’ve happened.
After all, she had torn into the Kleviah with no regard for any of them, and she had done it with such intensity and skill that it was glaringly obvious she had done it many times before.
However, perhaps even Midgard’s mightiest mortals were too stupid to think that far.
He pushed away his thoughts, already irritated by them, and he rubbed his wrists irritably as an aching in his skull dragged him back to the nightmare he’d had earlier in the morning.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he forced himself to focus on breathing and tried not to take any comfort in the warmth of Thor’s hand grasping his shoulder.
Chapter 11: Am I Making You Feel Sick?
Summary:
What's up guys, guess who's back, back again! Assessments are kicking my ass, so sorry this took so long, and given that even the approaching holidays already seemed stacked with yet more assessment and work, I can't guarantee quick updates. However, thank you once again for all your kudos, bookmarks and comments, they are so wonderful and inspirational <3 I hope you enjoy this, and take care of yourself!
chapter title from strangers by ethel cain
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
9:46am, May 9th, 2012.
There was an inherent mistake in allowing a chaos goddess to eat human flesh.
Tony had never considered having that thought cross his mind in his entire life, but with all the crazy shit that had occurred in the past few years alone, he found it hard to truly be surprised anymore.
Raya had been stumbling around for half an hour before the first wave of nausea had hit her; really, he should’ve planned for the sea sickness, especially after her panic over seeing the bloody ocean, but he’d been too wrapped up in rewatching camera footage of her conversations with Loki to think like that.
God, that made him sound like a creepy bastard.
Now, as Raya shivered against the wall before him, her eyes wild as she stared down at the toilet bowl, he desperately wished he’d remained an Avenger’s consultant.
“I do not like the movement of your boat.” Raya murmured, her shoulders tense, her face lined with a thin sheen of sweat as she glared up at him.
“Yeah, princess, I can tell.” He sighed, earning himself an irritated grunt from the woman on the floor. “Right. My bad.”
Clint was sitting on the floor of the bathroom with Raya, though his back was against the opposite wall as he fiddled with a water bottle, while Tony watched from the doorway, his stomach twisting at the scent of decaying flesh wafting through the room.
In all honesty, he’d almost tapped out of this situation when he’d watched Raya violently throw up a human ear, the spit that left her lips a deep crimson, but he’d somehow found it in him to stay strong.
“It should stop after a while.” Clint assured her, but Raya simply exhaled harshly, her eyes narrowed into slits as she shifted uncomfortably on the floor. “You’ll have to eat something else once it settles.”
Raya’s back straightened, the quiet beeping of her destabilisers filling the space where her words should be as she regarded them apprehensively.
“Not another person. Apparently, they don’t agree with you too well.” Tony muttered, and Raya’s eyes flicked up to him, prompting him to shrug noncommittally. “I’ve heard beef shawarma is pretty good, just throwing ideas out there.”
“Tony-” Clint muttered in exasperation, covering his face with his hands, while Raya simply stared, her expression perplexed.
“What? The girl’s gotta eat our food at some point, why not start her at the top?” Tony stifled a laugh at the sight of the confused frown on Raya’s face. “It’ll be great, since you obviously like red meat.”
Clint was massaging his forehead in agitation, and Tony watched as Raya tilted her head to the side, blinking slowly.
“I do like meat.” Raya said after a moment, her brow furrowed in uncertainty.
Tony almost choked on air as he forced his face to remain blank, not allowing any hint of a smile to creep through.
The boat rocked harshly under his feet, and he gripped the door hard to keep himself from falling over, listening to Raya’s retching begin again.
Clint’s hand scrambled for his radio as Raya’s fingers dug so deeply into the ceramic that it cracked under her touch, and Tony heard him yell,
“Nat! What the hell is going on up there?”
Static crackled and then Nat’s voice came, her words short and irritated.
“Gods fighting again!” A crashing sound came from the other end, and Natasha sighed. “I’m sick of this sibling rivalry!”
Tony glanced over at Raya, watching as her back arched with the force of her vomiting fit, and he dry heaved at the smell as it washed over him.
“What is it now?” Clint said, slowly getting to his feet, his face paling as Raya continued to throw up behind him.
“Fuck if I know, but there’s a storm coming in because of it!” Natasha yelled, her voice crackling, and then the boat rocked so harshly that Tony was nearly sent barrelling through the far wall. “One of you, get up here, now!”
Clint shot him a desperate look as Raya groaned behind him, and Tony sighed heavily as he pushed himself up, turning quickly towards the steps, his shoulder aching from where it had collided with the solid metal.
“Stark is on his way.” He heard Clint say over the sound of Raya’s vomiting, and Natasha’s reply was cut off as the door slid closed behind him.
He could hear angry shouts mixing with the rain pounding down outside the moment he stepped off the staircase and as he looked out over the midships at the chaos unfolding before him, he fought to keep from rolling his eyes.
Natasha was gesturing to agents irritably, her voice faded behind the yells coming from the two brawling brothers, and a loud dinging sound echoed through the room as Thor shoved Loki against a pole in the centre of the room, his eyes alight with rage.
The metal of his suit flew up to curl around his hand, and as each piece connected along his body, he opened his palm towards them, and sent a bolt of electromagnetic energy straight for their heads.
“Oi! Tweedledick and Tweedledumb!” He shouted, and as both gods let out a shocked yell, flinching away from the blast, he flew up beside them, his hand still raised. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Loki was picking himself off the floor, his body tense as he glared at Thor, and Thor only returned the stare, barely glancing at Tony as he muttered,
“It is not your business, Stark.”
“Oh? So, I’m supposed to let two spoiled princes blow up my boat, am I?”
Loki scoffed at his words, rubbing his neck as if to will away the bruises left by his brother’s fingers, but Tony kept his gaze trained on Thor, his hand still raised in warning.
“He will not tell me how he got Raya to defend him.” Thor spat, his eyes narrowed in distaste, and the harshness of his words made Tony blink in confusion. “What did you do to her, brother?”
His sharp words were directed at Loki now, but the God of Mischief only laughed incredulously, his gaze burning with hatred.
“What is it you want me to say? I do not even understand what you are talking about-” Loki began, but then Thor stepped forwards, grabbing the front of his robes angrily.
“Liar!” He shouted and Tony exhaled in annoyance, sending another blast of electricity towards the place Thor’s hands dug into Loki’s chest.
Thor grunted in pain, while Loki let out a hiss of agitation as the heat of it seared at their flesh, and they stumbled away from each other once again, refocusing their enraged gazes on Tony now.
“Raya would not defend me from anything!” Loki yelled, the rage in his tone blistering, and the conviction in his voice almost made Tony nod along with his words before he caught himself. “Especially not from the likes of Earth’s most precious heroes!”
He spat the last word like a curse, and Thor bared his teeth in anger, but Tony stepped between them, his palms pulsing with his suit’s energy as he glanced between them both.
“And yet she did! So how do you explain such a phenomenon, brother?”
Loki did not answer, his expression contorted by disbelief and rage, and though Tony wanted to join Thor in his anger, to yell at the haughty features that had caused him so much pain, he remained silent as his mind whirred.
“You cannot lie and say you do not know.” Thor said, gesturing wildly towards Loki, and Tony caught the way his face twisted in fear for half a moment at the raised hand. “You did something to her- Why would she listen to you?”
The hurt that marred Loki’s expression at Thor’s words made Tony wildly uncomfortable, but he ignored the feeling, turning back to Thor, his hands still raised on either side of him.
“We’ve kept track of all of their conversations, all their interactions.” He said quickly, and he kept his gaze focused on Thor even as he heard the subtle clicking of hands being tightened on triggers around them. “Loki hasn’t said anything suspicious to Raya; in fact, majority of their conversations consist of him telling her to shut up.”
Loki made an aggravated noise behind him, but he didn’t turn his head.
“Look, he’s a prick, but we have no evidence he’s done anything, and you can’t go around punching people just because you feel like it.” He continued, sighing before he added, “Even if he is your brother. Or whatever the fucked-up family drama is between you two.”
Thor appeared slightly mollified by his words, but rage was still simmering in his eyes as they shifted back over to Loki.
“Then what is her reason for protecting him? Why was she subdued by him?”
Tony glanced back at Loki, and as he met his eyes, he set his jaw against the hatred burning through his insides, and said,
“She was asking us why we were hurting him, and not her. She was angry that we weren’t- weren’t grateful because he saved us. From her.”
The barest flicker of emotion passed over Loki’s tight features, and the air seemed to lose a modicum of tension that had laced it just a moment before.
“She thought your little tantrum was us torturing you.” Tony continued, and Loki’s gaze was cold as he glared at him. “She wanted to know when hers would start, because she didn’t think you deserved it.”
He rolled his eyes for the benefit of the surrounding agents as he tried to keep up the façade of steadfast disapproval, unsure why it suddenly felt so difficult.
Thor’s hands unclenched at his sides, and confusion furrowed his brow as the anger fell away from his face, the screeching wind outside dying down slightly.
Tony released a shaky breath as he slowly lowered his hands, internally groaning as he heard Loki scoff irritably.
“I do not need protection from a being playacting as some paragon of virtue.” He muttered, but his gaze was turned towards the ground, his expression hidden.
“Good thing it did not really have anything to do with you, then.” Natasha cut in; her voice sharp as she folded her arms across her chest. “Her concern was more on why she was being treated with kindness. From everyone.”
Tony glanced between the two, frowning at the way Natasha’s words seemed slightly accusatory, but then Loki abruptly turned away from them, and he did not linger on it any longer.
The agents parted quickly as Loki roughly pushed past them, his movements rigid, and Tony quickly raised his arm to stop Thor from following him.
“‘What’s done is done.’” He echoed the god’s words from a few days ago, his voice edged with a tease, and Thor sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as the anger in his eyes faded out. “‘There’s no use arguing about it now.’”
“You are vexing.” Thor muttered, and Tony allowed a smile to break across his face. “Was I wrong to be concerned?”
“No.” Tony said as his suit fell from his arm, flying off to pack itself away. “Having qualms about your murderous little brother’s relationship with the primordial chaos goddess is perfectly normal.”
Thor massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers as Natasha walked up beside them, murmuring into her radio as the agents dispersed at a wave of her hand.
“Raya is getting better.” She said, not meeting his eyes as she took in a slow breath. “Apparently, she has stopped vomiting ‘so violently’.”
Thor shot him a confused look, and Tony shrugged, rubbing his chest to ease the ball of stress building there.
“Cannibalising the HYDRA spy upset her stomach.” He muttered, and Nat crossed her arms, her gaze cool as she surveyed him.
“It’s the ocean that’s making her sick, Stark.” She said, and the irritation that laced her tone made him narrow his eyes in confusion. “She’s afraid of the ocean because she’s never been on it before. Of course she’s seasick.”
“No need to come for me, Romanoff.” He said, raising his hands in a placating gesture as he met her eyes. “Just trying to lift spirits here.”
Natasha sighed irritably, her eyes closing as she ran the fingers of one hand through her hair, but when she looked back up at him, he could see the apology in her gaze.
He offered her a half smile, and she returned it before turning to Thor, her expression cool and collected once again.
“We need you and your brother with Raya, tomorrow.” She said, her voice firm, even as Thor grunted in indignation. “You have today to cool off, and then she starts training with both of you. She’s got to learn how to control herself, if it’s even possible.”
“Why us?” Thor said, and Tony surveyed him with disbelieving eyes.
Surely, those muscles didn’t take up that much space in his body that they left none for a brain.
Natasha recovered before he did, just as her radio started crackling again, Clint’s voice coming weakly from it as she said,
“You’re the most difficult to kill.”
Tony smirked at the taken aback look on Thor’s face, but then the god shrugged, accepting her order without protest before turning away, walking in the direction opposite to the one Loki had gone.
Tony looked up at Nat, catching the slight edge of uncertainty in her eyes before the mask fell over her face again, but he did not draw attention to it.
“Anything else, or can I go back to babysitting the seasick princess?” He asked, lowering his head in a mock bow, and the flicker of a smile passed over Nat’s lips before she shook her head.
“That is all.” She said, and her hand lifted slightly towards him before she blinked and turned away, her fingers curling around her radio instead. “Go make sure she doesn’t eat Clint or something.”
She dropped her eyes from him quickly as she turned away, her posture rigid, and Tony could almost feel the words she did not say thrumming in the space between them.
There was something she was hiding, but he could not find the strength to press her, especially as she retreated quickly, following Thor’s footsteps, no doubt off to begin transcribing Julian Alverez’s memories somehow.
Tony sighed, rubbing the back of his neck to soothe the growing tension in his muscles, moving towards the stairs and beginning his descent.
His head was spinning with a million questions, the quiet rage in Loki’s face, the worry in Nat’s, all replaying like a confusing film reel in his mind as he retraced his steps to the bathroom.
However, Tony found himself fixating on a rather strange detail, one that prodded at his mind insistently, as if he was being urged to realise something he didn’t understand.
Loki’s eyes were green, he was certain of it.
There was no way they could have ever become blue.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
10:27am, May 9th, 2012.
There was a searing pain behind his eyes, one that poked and taunted him, that needled and teased him.
He was not crying.
Loki had not even made it to his cell, he had not even made it down a flight of stairs before he had collapsed against a wall, his body wracked with a terrible pain.
The wetness on his fingers made him want to tear out his eyes.
The pain was all consuming, too confronting, and the voices in his head had whirled into action at the first sign of his displeasure.
“She didn’t think you deserved it.”
The annoyed tone of voice Stark had used left no question as to how he felt about Raya’s apparent sentiment, but that had not made it any more shocking.
Loki was burning with anger, a horrible sense of bruised pride and strange melancholy; who was she, to decide whether he deserved anything? Who was she, to stand against the people he hated, defending his moronic actions?
She is a fool.
He gripped at the wall, his legs buckling beneath him as his breath tightened in his chest, but he did not let a mortifying sob escape him as his body crumpled uselessly to the ground.
Raya knew nothing. Nothing of him, nothing about him, nothing he had been through.
You do not even know.
The voice that hijacked his train of thought was rough, grating, and he clutched harshly at his knee as he felt the boat rock gently under him.
“Get out.” He murmured to himself, his breath stuttering over his lips as his free hand tugged unceremoniously at his hair, bile burning in his throat. “Get out, get out, get out!”
His voice was high in his panic, he was so exposed, what was he doing? Falling apart so pathetically, shaking like something weak, nothing like the god he was supposed to be. Why did her words, her supposed words, do this to him? Was his mind truly broken enough, to be shattered by the barest possibility of a kindness?
It had not been a kindness, he reminded himself as his nails dug into the fabric of his robes. Natasha had made it clear Raya had held no sense of selflessness when she had asked for him. She was only worried about herself, worried in a way he didn’t understand, but really, why should he care about her worries at all?
There was another throbbing pain in his head, and a memory resurfaced, one full of blinding light and horrible burning, and he gasped to escape it, his eyes flying open to run from the darkness swirling inside his head.
There was someone here. Someone here with him, watching him, their gaze cold, unforgiving, one that promised more and more torture, that spoke of unending pain and suffering-
He was on his feet, unsteady legs sending him staggering into the wall, fabric beneath his hand as he grabbed them by the neck and threw them against the wall, listening to bones crunch and crack under his touch.
A gun clicked, but he had no sense of where it was coming from, his eyes were on fire as tears spilled over his cheeks, his grip tightening-
“Don’t!” The cry was familiar yet strangled, a voice he knew, but the air was so heavy, he could barely hear himself breathe through the thundering in his skull.
“Get out!” He tried to yell, but his voice was no more than a whisper, all his anger far too silent, torn from a throat sealed shut by cruelty. “Get out of my head!”
A harsh breath that was not his own, and then crushing comfort, overwhelming warmth, laughter of hundreds of others he could not name, the sweet taste of mead tainting his tongue-
His eyes flew open, and found Raya’s staring back at him, crimson light shining in her irises as her jaw clenched against the shocks going up her arm.
Kill her.
There was no anger there, but his heart flared with rage at her coolness; how could she be so calm? How could she stand there, with his hand pressing into her throat, constricting her supply of oxygen, and simply stare at him with that faint look of curiosity on her face?
Kill her.
“Do not speak on my behalf again!” He barked roughly, the voice coming from his mouth so unlike his own, so painful to hear to his own ears, but Raya’s expression did not change.
He now realised that her other hand had been lifted, as if to ward someone off, and he shot a poisonous look over his shoulder, searching for the source.
Clint’s hand was trembling on his gun, but he did not shoot even as his face paled further.
Loki turned back to Raya, and her coolly resigned expression made him recoil, his gaze falling to his hands, finding them resting around her throat.
What am I doing?
He hurriedly stepped back, his chest heaving as his head spun wildly.
She smelled like blood and sickness, but her eyes were no longer burning.
Tears were still spilling from his eyes, and he wiped them away feverishly, cursing each drop of water that fell upon his skin, only now taking notice of the dent Raya’s body had left against the wall.
The titanium had bent all around her, some of it appearing more softened than it should have been, as if she had been melting through it, and as she steadied herself against it, her hand rubbing gingerly at the base of her throat, her gaze locked on his once again.
Rage reared its head again, but he shook himself hard to clear the ideas away, to chase away the whispers to attack her, his tongue sharpened by the confusion that gripped his heart.
“You are selfish, and worthless, and useless!” He spat, his pain infusing his words as his head ached, and he could not tell if he was truly speaking to her or not. “You know nothing, nothing!”
Raya did not speak, simply staring at him, and even as his body shook with anger, he could not bring himself to strike her.
Loki told himself that with a gun trained on him, and no access to his magic, that he was making the smart choice.
Coward.
He whirled away, needing to put as much distance between Raya and himself as he could, to escape the knowing look in her eyes, to swallow the panicked words of blame that he sprayed like bullets at her, hoping to catch onto her heart.
He was gone so quickly, that he did not see the way Raya’s lips tightened into a tiny, grateful smile.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
4:26pm, May 9th, 2012.
Bruce rubbed his forearms as he leant against the railing, trying to ease warmth into his skin as the cool wind whipped past him, the soft sprinkle of rain almost a comfort.
Almost.
He swallowed hard against the tension that perpetually rested in his chest, keeping his breathing even as he watched the waves crest and fall in the distance.
As always, the thought of taking that final step into the swirling darkness below crossed his mind, but he breathed it away.
It would not work anyway, he knew.
It had been constricting, being forced into such a small space, with so many stressors so close by, but there was no helping it now. He would have to persevere.
Bruce did not see her approach, not with his back turned towards the door. Rather, he felt her eyes on him; Natasha’s presence was somehow heavy when she wanted it to be, but light when it needed to be.
Subtlety. A concept he was not well acquainted with.
She stepped up beside him, but Bruce did not turn to look at her, not sure he could trust himself, not with the guilt and uncomfortable uncertainty brawling in his heart.
“She saved us.” Natasha’s voice was quiet as she spoke, and he did not need to question who she was talking about. “If she hadn’t been there, we might not have even known HYDRA found us. He had orders. He was going to kill us.”
Her voice was empty, as if she did not care for the words she spoke, and when he glanced at her, her expression gave away even less.
“She is not out of control.” She added, and the waves far below crashed against the side of the ship, the splash of them lost to the sea air. “She is just confused. Lost.”
Bruce did not move. He did not speak, because he could hear the unspoken words clearly, could feel them hanging heavily in the air between them.
“She is not you.”
“She doesn’t need your protection.” He said softly, his hands falling to trace along the metal bar before him. “Least of all, from me.”
Natasha did not look at him, but he could feel the way her body stiffened, caught the way her hand tightened on the bar before her.
“It is not myself that she reminds me of.” She said quietly, and he blinked in surprise. “No matter how it may seem.”
There was no reply to that, and he did not worry himself with finding one, not when she had shared something so personal.
He listened to the wind as it whistled past for a few more moments, clearing his throat several times as words stuck to the sides of his throat, determined to stay fixed inside his mind.
“We found more information inside the agent’s memories.” Natasha said, breaking the slightly tense silent, and he released a relieved breath. “They were trying to trace us. We found a tracker in his stomach.”
“When she ate him?” He asked coolly, and he heard Natasha exhale shakily, saw her lean more heavily against the railing.
“Yes. When she ate him.”
The wind whipped past him, and he readjusted his glasses as he sucked in a deep breath, the ocean air filling his lungs with salt as his eyes followed the horizon.
“How worried are you about her and Loki?” He asked, more out of curiosity than anything, and to his surprise, Natasha laughed quietly.
“Not at all.” She said, her voice calm, and Bruce nodded in acknowledgement of her words, not bothering to look at what he knew would be an empty expression. “There are bigger problems to deal with.”
He stood there, silently, long after Natasha had left, letting the cold air freeze him, feeling an ache settle in his chest as he contemplated the rise and fall of the sea.
Killing Raya wasn’t logical anymore. He knew that, now that he’d had time to clear his head, to process why he’d felt the need to eradicate their only hope for protection.
Raya wasn’t him. She was powerful, yes, but she was not mindless as he was when he turned. She wasn’t sane, that much was obvious, but she obviously had some form of empathy.
Why else would she have been able to feel worried about Loki? How else could she have apologised for the soldiers that had lost their lives in the first Kleviah attack?
If she had been like him, mindless, driven solely by anger, they never would have made it out of Stark Tower.
As the sun slipped lower in the sky, obscured by grey clouds, he mused over whether that made her even more dangerous than they’d originally thought.
Loki didn’t have empathy, and he had murdered, brutalised, ravaged a part of their world with no remorse, but at least that meant he hadn’t even thought about the implications of his actions.
If Raya turned on them, it would been a carefully considered betrayal.
If he was at all honest with himself, he couldn’t decide which was worse.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 1/7 to Spain.
9:34pm, May 9th, 2012.
Earth was so cold.
Raya not used to the cool breeze that gently pressed against her skin, setting her body shivering as she listened to the sound of waves crashing against the boat’s hull, and her eyes strayed once again to the sky outside her window.
Loki’s heartbeat remained steady on the other side of the wall, his every breath like a chilling scream.
His open animosity replayed in her mind as she studied the stars, shrouded in a light cover of cloud, and her lips stung as they perked up once again.
It felt startlingly good to know of his anger, to know his hatred burned so viciously inside him that he could not stop himself from hurting her.
It had been so comforting, and as the breath had been forced from her lungs, the familiarity of her own fear had reminded her that perhaps not all was lost.
Perhaps, she could be content as a soldier for a new master, surrounded by anger and unrest.
Perhaps, Cirica would bleed into her life here, and help her to breathe.
She made no sound as she drew the sharp shard of metal across her palm, her face still as she glanced down at the cut.
Blood spilled across her bare skin, a tapestry of endurance, the artwork of her heart, and she drove the shard in deeper as her breathing stayed even.
It wasn’t enough, it never would be; apparently, Earth lacked all the usual methods of discipline, but she was no stranger to having to administer her tortures alone.
I will persevere.
Her stomach was still unsettled from her earlier sickness, but Clint’s reassurances that she would hopefully find her bearings seemed to be holding true thus far, and for that, she was grateful.
She was already so at war with her own fire. Displaying her vulnerabilities like that…
The memory made her shudder, but she could not be sure it was from her own disgust, or the chill that caressed her skin, its sharpened blade finding its way to her throat and holding her hostage to its icy will.
Raya’s eyes fell to the strange square in the corner of the room, a cloth of some sort stretching up to touch the squares at its head, plump with a softness she didn’t understand.
A game, she knew. A taunt of relaxation. She would not explore further, lest she draw more eyes to her. She would pass their tests and prove she could be resilient, as they so needed her to be.
Her gaze drifted further, resting on the small tray near her feet, lifting the metal shard to her lips and licking her blood from it as she examined the food before her.
Clint had called it buttered toast. She remembered the gentle way he had placed it on the floor, his eyes shining with something like pity, and her stomach roiled in discomfort.
He could not pity her, that was a foolish endeavour. By no means did she need it, nor did she want it.
There had been no instructions to eat, merely a cursory glance and strange smile before he flitted off, his movements jerky, like that of a paranoid bird.
Hawkeye.
Briefly, she wondered what a hawk might be, her brow furrowing as she considered it, and in her absentmindedness, her fingers drifted towards the toast.
It was still warm.
Maybe the chill of the surrounding air had weakened her defences, but she gave in to the rumbling of her stomach, lifting the browned square to her lips and biting down tentatively on it.
Sweet warmth filled her mouth, a quiet crunch between her teeth as a creamy texture fell upon her tongue, salty and strange, but not unpleasant.
It did not take her long to finish the two other pieces still resting on the tray, and soon she was covered in crumbs of toast, ones she quickly tried to pick from her bodysuit and the floor to avoid leaving a mess.
She felt warmer simply from eating, her mind settling slightly as she wrapped her arms around herself to will away the cold.
Her destabilisers both beeped in time with Loki’s, and even as she contemplated the loss of the warmth she had grown so accustomed to within herself, she found herself once again distracted by his breathing.
It was slow, deep. He was asleep most definitely, and even though his heartrate spiked every now and then, speaking volumes of the nightmares that ravaged his peace, it remained mostly even.
A constant, strangely comforting reminder that for once, she was not alone.
Raya remembered hearing something about a fight when she had been thrashing with her illness earlier, but Loki had not looked as if he had been harmed when he threw her against the wall.
He had been crying, though.
An unfamiliar feeling, like sadness but not for herself, curled inside her chest, joining the nausea that was now itching at her as the toast settled into her stomach.
She narrowed her eyes at the feeling, running it through her mind trying to figure out what it meant, why it was happening, and a memory flashed through her mind, darkened at the edges as if it had been burned.
Drea. The girl was staring at her in a panic, her arms raised as if in surrender; but she was not looking at Raya, rather her eyes were fixed on something over her shoulder, and fear constricted her features as the world erupted into flames around them-
Raya sucked in a deep breath, her eyes burning with tears, and she gripped the metal shard in her hand so tightly that she felt it bend as it cut further into her skin.
The pain grounded her as she forced herself back to this reality, trying to erase the blurry memory away from her mind, reminding herself that it would only hurt.
These memories of hers, they hurt so much, and yet, this one had felt so much more… real.
She let the warm gushing of her blood draw her from her own mind, watching as her arm became painted with crimson lines, her features relaxing as she focused on the beat of her own heart.
If Loki’s softened breathing crept into her mind and soothed away a part of her confusion, no one would know but her.
*
Soria, Spain.
Boeing 767, Flight to Rome, Italy.
11:43pm, May 9th, 2012.
Kabe had not moved from her seat once since the plane had taken off.
It did not matter that she needed to use the bathroom. It did not matter that she wanted food, or that she could barely breathe because she was squished between two people she did not know.
Dread was building in her chest, dread for a fear that had long since been dismissed and labelled irrational by everyone she told.
“It’s not a fear of heights, K. It’s a fear of falling.”
No. It was a fear of hurtling hundreds of miles per hour through the air, inside a tightly sealed metal tube with no hope of escape or a chance to be saved.
Personally, she felt that fear was very rational.
The man next to her hadn’t stopped muttering for the last seven hours, something about a red star, or starlight, something, and it had done nothing but set her further on edge.
“Run home.” He was mumbling now, and Kabe squirmed in her seat to turn away from him as she clutched at her knee. “Run home.”
How she’d like to take his psycho word and run back to her home right now, to escape this sickening, panic fuelled nightmare.
A dream job in Italy had sounded perfect at the time, but now that she was hovering over an open stretch of sea, thousands of feet in the air, she wished she’d had more time to consider.
Kabe’s head snapped up sharply as the plane rocked harshly to the side, and her heart wrenched in her chest as she caught herself just before she was sent sprawling into the lap of the old lady next to her.
“It’s alright, dear.” The lady laughed, resting her hand on her arm to help her sit back up. “Just a bit of turbulence.”
Kabe echoed her laugh nervously, her nails digging into her arm rests as she heard the man’s breathing get more erratic, and her heart began to pound even faster in her chest.
There was something wrong. She could taste it in the air, her mouth dry with her anxious anticipation, and she steeled herself against the panic she felt building in her chest.
Just turbulence. Just a blip.
Her eyes caught on something as her eyes strayed out the window, and nausea gripped her harshly as she realised something was staring back at her.
A glowing, red eye that lit up the darkness of the surrounding clouds.
There was no moon to illuminate the rest of the thing, but as it stared at her, the sound of a rough screeching filled the air.
A sound an awful lot like laughter.
Kabe had never heard something as horrible as the moment the plane had been ripped apart, or the raw horror that tainted the voices of those who disappeared down fiery throats.
The explosion that followed was punctuated by that awful, echoing laughter.
As her limp body tumbled horrifyingly fast towards the open expanse of ocean below her, her chest aching as her heart gave up fighting against her fear, she swore she could hear an excited scream amongst all the terror.
A cry, in a man’s voice, about finally returning home.
Chapter 12: My, My, Those Eyes Like Fire.
Summary:
WHATS UP FELLAS!!! im BACK with another installment of these mfers and I'm hurriedly posting this before I have to go to work, so rip, but anyway. Did I cry several times while writing this? Yes. Have I discovered that Sleep Token's album Take Me Back To Eden is one of the most rayaloki coded albums to ever exist? Yes, I did. All in all, writing this chapter was great, but gods, i need people to cry with me over these two rn.
As always, thank you everyone for your kudos, your comments, your bookmarks, they mean the world to me, and every one of them inspires me to keep going!
ps. new character just dropped, based off one of my friends, so enjoy that while it lasts!
chapter title from take me back to eden - sleep token
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 2/7 to Spain.
9:46am, May 10th, 2012.
“I don’t understand how her incompetence is my problem.” Loki muttered, and Thor grunted irritably at his side, roughly pulling him to his feet.
“Quit your whining, brother.” Thor said, and Loki rolled his eyes towards Natasha, who was watching them argue with a blank expression, her fingers tapping at her side.
She was unnervingly silent for a mortal, Loki had realised. Did it make her anymore bearable? Any less insufferable? No, but at least she shut up, unlike Stark or the birdman.
He huffed angrily as he was forced to walk through the doorway of his cell, pushing Thor’s hand off him instantly.
“Why am I responsible for this?” Loki said, shooting a glare over his shoulder as his irritation manifested into a taunting smirk. “Is your magic too rudimentary to be of any use?”
Thor shoved him to the side, the look in his eyes deadly, but before he could speak, Natasha had grabbed his arm and pulled him away.
“It’s not worth it.” She was saying softly, and Loki scoffed as his fingers pressed at the metal of his destabilizer once again, hopelessly searching a way to free himself from its hold. “He knows what he’s doing, just let him talk.”
“I am right here, you know.” He said, a smirk still playing across his lips as he gave them an overexaggerated wave. “I haven’t suddenly gone deaf to your mortal idiosyncrasies.”
Now, Natasha’s expression shifted into one of annoyance, and he relished in breaking her silent stoicism, keeping his eyes locked on her as his anger bled into his words.
“Why have you suddenly decided to trust me with this oh-so-important task? Is it not suited to your glorified attack dog?” He taunted, his eyes flicking briefly up to Thor as his smile widened. “What have you come to, brother, to serve at a mortal’s command?”
Natasha continued to look at him, her gaze unyielding and aggravating, and Loki shifted under the weight of her silence, ignoring his brother’s mutterings about brutal dismemberment.
Finally, she blinked, a gentle smile on her lips, and Loki recoiled in disgust at the sight of it, forcing himself to stay in place as Natasha took a step closer to him.
“Thor isn’t under our command. He’s a teammate.” She spat, her eyes shining with an anger he had yet to see in her. “You want to know why you have been assigned to help us control Raya?”
“Yes.” He answered quickly, his hands curling tighter into fists with each step she took towards him. “Are you afraid to admit you need my help?”
Natasha laughed humourlessly, her gaze cold as she met his eyes, and he could practically feel the hatred radiating off her.
Good.
“No. We do need you.” She said, and while her words sounded genuine, the smile on her face unsettled him. “We need you to listen, which I know must be a concept you aren’t familiar with, but it’s something you’re going to become acquainted with very quickly.”
Loki blinked at the frankness of her words, anger surging through him at the way she spoke, as if he were some petulant child, and he hissed back,
“And what makes you think I will listen to any of you? No matter how high and mighty you pretend to be, you are only mortal. You are still weak.”
The sound of Natasha’s hand hitting the side of his face echoed through the hallway, and he gasped at the unexpected blow, shock crashing through him as she continued to glare at him.
Her smile only grew, and the bruise to his pride matched the red welt growing on his face as she unhooked a small box from her belt, shaking off the hand she had hit him with.
“You ignore us, you try to hurt us, you hurt Raya,” Natasha said, her voice steady, almost too calm, “And I electrocute you until you’re a drooling mess on the floor.”
Loki simply stared at her, his eyes flicking between her face and the box in her hand, watching as her finger hovered over the red button, fighting the urge to lunge and rip her to pieces.
“You’re teaching Raya to control her magic in any way you know how as a kindness.” Natasha continued, and he straightened himself up, refusing to rub his stinging cheek as he glared at her. “It’s either that, or we watch your overwhelmingly large ego get utterly obliterated as you lose to her again and again.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and Loki sneered at her, his teeth gritted in anger, unable to find the words to speak through the haze of his displeasure.
“Honestly, I don’t really care either way. Seeing her tear you apart might just be the closure I need.” She said, her voice laced with a certainty he despised. “But I like to think I’m not a vindictive person. So, shut up, and keep walking.”
Loki squared his shoulders, taking in a steadying breath as he clenched his jaw, before he looked away from her.
He caught sight of Thor smiling as he turned, and he had to force his gaze forward, embarrassment and rage fighting in his chest as his destabiliser beeped in warning.
Pathetic mortal.
He knew this little episode of Natasha’s was connected to the way he had treated her the first time he’d been captured by S.H.I.E.L.D, and shame flashed through him at the memory before he flinched away from it.
He’d promised to have Barton kill her, then.
“And when he screams, I’ll split his skull!”
Loki blinked at the words, the weight of them on his lips strangely unfamiliar, even as they echoed around his mind in his voice.
He did not speak as they moved forwards, not daring to look up, not even as he felt the other two press in at his sides, not when he felt the eyes of the other agents burning into his back.
They were mocking him with their whispers, he was sure of it. They were taunting him with their stares, but he would give them no satisfaction.
There were worse tortures than words spoken in rage.
“Agent Romanoff!”
The voice that met his ears as they descended the staircase was horrifically bubbly, and he had to fight the urge drive his fingers through his eyes as he caught sight of the mortal walking quickly towards them.
Her demeanour was awfully upbeat, and even though her eyes widened at the sight of him, they quickly refocused on Natasha, who’s expression softened ever so slightly.
“Sunnie.” She addressed the agent kindly, and the whiplash from her icy tone from before to the warmth that infused her words now made Loki scrunch his face up in disgust. “What’s up?”
Sunnie.
Revolting.
“I have the planned trajectory for the boat and our port stops before Spain mapped out for you.” The agent said, her smile irritatingly wide, and Loki watched as her cheeks reddened as she thrust papers into Natasha’s hands. “Including the port at Lisbon and transport directly to Rome.”
Thor hummed approvingly as he stepped closer to Sunnie, and Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes as her features as the girl laughed nervously, fidgeting with a charm dangling from a bracelet around her wrist.
She certainly didn’t look like a soldier or a warrior in any capacity, and Loki could not contain his huff of disdain, something that earned him a sharp pinch from his brother.
“This all looks good so far.” Natasha said as she rifled through the papers, her voice still soft, and Sunnie perked up at the sound of her voice. “Was there anything else?”
“The stronghold in Santarém has dispatched seven armoured vehicles to take you to them. Our connection to our base in Madrid has gone silent, and Director Fury wants the help of the…” Sunnie’s words trailed off slightly as Natasha looked up at her, and Loki felt sickened by the sight of blush in her cheeks. “The- uh, Raya. The goddess, to figure out what happened.”
“Do all mortals ramble incessantly, or is it just the ones you choose to associate yourself with?” Loki murmured under his breath to Thor, and to his annoyance, Sunnie looked over at him, her eyes wide.
However, it was not fear that marred her features as she looked at him, and even as he narrowed his eyes at her, the redness in her cheeks only seemed to grow more obvious.
Strange.
“We’re actually on our way to see Raya now.” Natasha said quickly, stepping in between him and the agent, who snapped back to attention with an awkward laugh, her hand rubbing her neck as if stressed. “If you come with us, you can tell her the message yourself.”
Sunnie’s eyes widened even further, and Loki found himself almost concerned her for her face; surely, mortal features weren’t supposed to stretch that far.
“Yes!” The girl answered excitedly, and Loki sighed at her theatrics. “If that’s- If she’ll see me, I mean-”
Natasha pressed her hand to the girl’s back, gently nudging her down the hallway, and Sunnie fell silent immediately, her smile never fading.
“Rid yourself of the sour expression, brother.” Thor said, and Loki had to stop himself from rolling his eyes once again as they continued forwards. “Mortals are very bright. Very nice to talk to.”
“I do not share the same experiences as you, it seems.” Loki muttered, but he followed behind Sunnie and Natasha as instructed, his gaze trained on their backs.
It would be so easy to rush forwards and crush their heads together, but he knew Thor would stop him before any real destruction took place.
No fun.
As they continued down the stairs, he could hear Sunnie rambling and Natasha’s polite replies, and his stomach turned over at the dullness of their conversation; something about a sick mother, or a hurt father?
Mortals are disgustingly sentimental.
The sound of their voices soon faded out however, becoming replaced with harsh blows against wood and sharp yells of exertion.
Loki’s throat felt suddenly dry, and he swallowed hurriedly to try and dislodge the dread building like bile in his throat.
Natasha was first through the training room door, so his view of Raya was obscured for a few moments as he was forced to wait until Sunnie stumbled in ahead of him before he really saw her.
Raya’s hands were curled into fists, faint spots of red evident under the white material of her gloves, and as she spun immediately to look at them, her eyes were dark, crimson light simmering like burning coals deep within them.
She was drenched in sweat, and Loki’s eyes followed her hand as she raised it to her forehead, wiping away some of the moisture as she slowly made her way over to them.
Loki dropped his eyes from her as she glanced at him, her tight expression unchanged, but she did not linger on him, instead tilting her head towards Natasha in greeting.
A pang of shame swept through his heart, but he set his jaw to avoid the feeling, not raising his eyes from the floor.
It didn’t matter what she thought of him now. He’d never cared about her opinion anyway, that was the point of it all. He didn’t need her protection, or whatever it was that she had done for him.
“Who are you?” Raya said, her voice flat and against his own will, his eyes turned towards where she was standing, watching as her gaze locked onto Sunnie, causing the girl to begin stuttering again.
“I- I’m Sunnie, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, ma’am-” Sunnie bowed her head, apparently confused as to how to address the goddess, and Loki had to force away the smile that threatened to slip onto his lips at the confused look on Raya’s face.
“Do not bow for me.” Raya said, her tone still cold, but her expression betrayed the barest hint of curiosity. “It is beneath you.”
Loki refused to acknowledge the strange flash of anger that passed through him at the look on Raya’s face; how was she so interested in everything? She had looked at him like that, was it simply just how she looked at everything?
“I’m sorry- I…” Sunnie’s voice faded as Raya tilted her head to the side, but seemed to regain herself as Natasha squeezed her arm. “I just wanted to meet you, you seem really, really cool and I-”
“I am actually very hot.” Raya said as Sunnie’s rambling halted yet again, her brows furrowing as she watched the girl stutter. “Your heart rate is high. Are you overheating?”
Sunnie looked at Natasha, her eyes wide, and Loki sighed irritably as Thor laughed, clapping a hand over the girl’s shoulder in reassurance.
Raya looked over at him as the noise left his lips, and a thrill of panic shot through Loki, straightening his back quickly as he forced his gaze back to the floor.
“She is fine, Raya. She’s just nervous.” Thor said, and Loki felt the burn of Raya’s eyes leave him to fall onto his brother, something for which he was internally grateful.
“I understand.” Raya murmured, tugging at her gloves to pull them further up her arms. “It would be very easy to kill her.”
Loki caught sight of Natasha’s appalled expression as Raya’s eyes drifted over Sunnie, who’s lips had parted as if to speak before she’d frozen up in something akin to fear.
“Your muscles are consistently strained.” Raya said, stepping closer to Sunnie, her eyes narrowed in consideration now, and Loki followed her smooth movements out the corner of his eyes. “Your joints are stiff, and both your right wrist and left knee click when you walk.”
Raya half raised her hand, as if she were going to touch the girl’s face, but she caught herself at the last moment, her lips thinning into a line as she glanced between Thor and Nat.
“Do mortals kill their liabilities?” She asked, and the sincerity in her voice forced a laugh from Loki’s mouth, but this time, she didn’t look over at him. “Or do they… live?”
“They live.” Natasha said quickly, pulling Sunnie closer to her, and Raya nodded slowly, her expression still slightly perplexed. “We aren’t asking you kill her.”
“…Alright.” Raya said quietly, her shoulders relaxing slightly, but her fingers flexed at her sides, clearly on guard. “What is it you want?”
“Director Fury needs your- well, he wants your help to figure out if one of our bases were burned down by the dragons- I mean, the Kleviah.” Sunnie stumbled over her words, but to her credit, she did not hide behind Natasha, making direct eye contact with Raya as she spoke.
“Dragons.” Raya repeated, and as she contemplated the word, Loki’s heart jumped into his throat.
As her lips parted to drag out the syllables, he caught sight of her teeth, his eyes fixing on her sharpened canines, and he blinked rapidly to clear away the irritating rush of fear that ripped through him.
“Do mortals have an equivalent of the Kleviah?” She continued, her features softening ever so slightly, and Loki narrowed his eyes as Sunnie nodded enthusiastically.
“They match closely to the descriptions of European dragons, and the elements of the flamed spines along their back match a mosaic from Kaulonia!” The girl said excitedly, and Loki watched as surprise flitted across Raya’s face, her eyes bright with wonder. “Southern Italy, that is. When the first attack happened, once I got patched up, I made sure to look into Roman history, considering-”
Natasha’s hand suddenly gripped Sunnie’s arm very tightly, and as she was cut off by her own cry of pain, Loki glanced up to see the Widow’s face paling.
“There will be time for this later.” Natasha said quickly, her smile horribly forced, and Sunnie’s excitement visibly diminished, her expression turning sheepish. “We have to start your training, Raya. Fury can wait for now.”
Loki looked curiously between the three women, sure he could feel the sudden burn of tension in the air, and it was only as Raya nodded curtly, the spark in her eyes evaporating, that Natasha seemed to breathe out.
“Who is first?” Raya asked smoothly, twisting her wrists so that they cracked simultaneously, and Loki’s throat constricted as her eyes locked on his. “Clint told me I was supposed to ‘hurt without killing’, but he did not specify how close to death they had to be.”
Loki didn’t remember making the decision to step back, but the intensity of her gaze resting solely on him made his heart begin to race, and he couldn’t decide whether he was imagining the glimmer of anger shining in her dark eyes.
“I am to be your sparring partner until we are certain you can contain your strength.” Thor said, smiling towards Raya as he moved to block Loki from sight, and he let out a shaky breath of relief as he hurriedly backed away from them. “And I would like to walk away from this fight.”
Raya’s rough exhale might have been a laugh, but Loki was too busy focusing on keeping himself upright to pay that much attention to it.
He suddenly regretted his earlier actions much more than he’d thought he would, and he couldn’t help but flinch as the sound of fists against flesh began to fill the large room.
He had insulted her. Called her useless, worthless. Selfish.
Hypocrite.
A sharp shock shot through him, and he jumped, his eyes flicking angrily over to Natasha, who waved her small box in the air, her smile derisive as she pointed to a chair in the corner of the room.
Loki shot her a dark glare, but her smile did not fade, and he could feel the muscle in his jaw popping as he gritted his teeth in rage.
He moved slowly to follow her orders, taking his time to cross the room, and by the time he had finally sat down, Natasha was already opening the door to let Sunnie out, her expression aggravated.
As Loki dragged his eyes back up to survey the fight before him, the sound of ringing metal met his ears, and he watched as Thor’s expression contorted in pain, his body forced harshly against the right wall.
Raya’s hand was tight around his throat as she dragged him along the metal, but as they reached a corner, she yelled, and Thor was sent flying, his body rolling several feet before he was able to catch himself.
Loki swallowed hard as Thor got to his feet and forcibly steadied himself, but the faintest hint of vindication swept through him as Raya lifted her hands in preparation.
Yeah. That’s how it feels.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 2/7 to Spain.
12:03pm, May 10th, 2012.
The ship rocked under her feet as she slammed Thor’s body into the ground once again, her fist raised in warning as his hands scrabbled uselessly at her shoulders.
Go for the throat-
“Alright, alright, I yield!” He said reluctantly, and Raya blinked, nodding shakily as she moved to straighten up again, stretching out her hand to help him to his feet.
“Was that better?” She asked as he took hold of her hand, and just for a moment, she felt his grip tighten.
Her body tensed in anticipation, adrenaline rushing through her veins, but Thor only chuckled, rubbing his back to ease his muscles as he stood, and she relaxed slightly.
“Still rough, but I believe my spine is no longer under duress from the force of your hands.”
Something like a laugh caught in her throat as she watched him lift his hands in preparation, and she immediately resumed her stance, her eyes flicking over his body, her hands raised.
They had been at it for over two hours now, and Thor had yet to grow tired, something she was quietly excited about. Training sessions on her planet had stretched over days, and her muscles had already begun to ache from limited use; this was exactly what she needed to feel as if she could breathe again.
Thor lunged at her, and she threw herself from his path, her hand shooting out to wrap around his bicep, her gloved fingers digging into his flesh as she forced herself off the ground.
It had been easy to deduce Thor’s weaknesses as they fought; he used too much of his body weight as a driving factor in his strength, and was often caught off guard by quick turns, valuing an offensive attack over a defensive one.
He grunted in pain as she twisted his arm around his back, her leg hooking around his waist, and they were sent rolling across the floor yet again.
Raya threw herself clear of him, ignoring the sharp stab of pain that erupted in her face as his hand shot out blindly and caught her across the cheek.
Someone scoffed behind them, and Raya glanced over her shoulder as she pulled herself to her feet, wiping sweat from her forehead, finding Loki’s eyes already resting on her.
She furrowed her brow, not surprised as he quickly looked away from her, the smirk on his face fading slightly.
The momentary distraction was enough for her guard to slip, and Thor’s fist slammed into her stomach, winding her, causing her to stumble slightly as she raised her hands yet again.
Her heart was racing in her ears as he charged her, and instead of sidestepping him, she simply threw herself to the ground at his feet, using her body to take out his legs.
Thor tripped over her, and in the scrabble to remain upright, he kicked her in the face, and her head snapped up, pain ripping through her as she was laid out flat on the floor.
No.
Raya barely had enough time to recover herself before he was on top of her, and she forced her hands against his forearms, trying to keep him off her.
Her arms were shaking.
The beeping of her destabilisers echoed the harsh thudding of her heart against her ribs as she stared up at his face, panic suddenly sweeping through her.
Thor had his knee pressing down into her thigh, keeping her body pinned to the ground, and her chest felt far too tight as she struggled to force breath through her lungs, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be, she wasn’t supposed to be-
Losing.
Thor’s hand had clamped down on her arm, and a wave of weakness pressed against her as she writhed under him, trying escape the crushing weight of his hands, it was happening too fast, she couldn’t get up, where had her strength gone-
He wasn’t letting her go.
He’s going to kill me.
The thought struck Raya so harshly that a pained groan slipped between her lips, her chest aching as she tried to push Thor off her, but she only succeeded in allowing him to gain steadier footing.
She was going to lose.
“Thor-”
Loki’s voice was strangely high pitched, something in his tone almost panicked, but Raya could only feel the searing burn of her fear as she realised she could no longer move.
Burn him. Burn him like you burnt the others.
The rush of heat was so familiar that she barely felt it.
It took her far too long to notice that she was screaming, but as red tinted her vision, her body was immediately wracked with painful shocks, and suddenly she could breathe again.
Tears filled her eyes as her head spun, her body convulsing violently as pain clawed at her insides, and she fought away the panic, pushed away the fear. even as her yells of anguish were torn roughly from her lungs.
She could see Thor staggering away from her, his hand pressing to his forearm, and even through her tear blurred vision, she could see the angry, red mark spreading across his exposed skin.
“You were born to break everything. You were born to burn down worlds.”
“No!” She yelled as her chest heaved, her body still shaking as electricity burned through her veins. “No, I- I didn’t-”
There were people shouting as she clutched at her head, rocking back and forth, the world twisting wildly around her, but she couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t she breathe-
“Weak child. Do you expect to be chosen like this? A pathetic excuse for a flame.”
“No!” She cried, her voice sharp and grating, and the world was darkening, she was weak, she was broken, she was burning-
I burnt him.
Her body curled in on itself, her hands wrapping around herself as she felt the heat build unbearably, and she dug her hands into her shoulders, a sharp cry of pain ripped from between her lips.
I failed.
The world seemed to disconnect from her mind, the air still but voices loud, her vision tunnelled and darkened, a prison of fear unparalleled to any torture.
The heartbeats around her were erratic, so frantic that she could almost feel them in her skin, and she began clawing at her flesh as the echoes of their breathing assaulted her mind.
“Raya-” Thor’s voice was laced with concern, and she hated it, why did he care, when she had lost so predictably, so thoughtlessly?
As anger rushed through her, misplaced and misguided, her arm trembled as another shock raced through her, but she didn’t stop her hands, hurriedly tearing her gloves away with her teeth before returning them to her skin.
Blood.
The metallic scent of it made her jaw ache as her teeth cut through her gums, but she ignored the familiar feeling as panic met rage, as horror met disappointment, and her nails sliced deeply into her skin as she muffled her cries against the floor.
Failure. Weaker. Loser.
The words tore through her mind, her chest constricting in panic as the warmth of her blood seeped into her body suit, heat flaring in her hands as she dragged them along her trembling body.
“I am n- I am not-” She murmured, her lips coated in blood as it dripped from her teeth, her breath burning her as electricity continued to race through her.
There was nothing to stop her death.
Her only salvation would be to do it herself.
“Stop!”
The order came harsh and clear, and Raya froze immediately, her chest heaving as her eyes opened instantly, finding Natasha’s empty expression as she walked slowly closer.
Raya pulled herself up as quickly as she could, swaying slightly as she ripped her claws from her skin, stinging pain erupting all over her body as she balled her hands into fists.
“A warrior does not beg for mercy; they only accept the inevitable, and destroy the sin of their own souls before the touch of an enemy can taint them.”
“Let me kill myself.” She pleaded, her head bowed as the white floor beneath her became stained with crimson, her arms shaking as she placed her bloodied hands on the tile. “Please.”
Everything was so loud, and yet she was floating, and even as each breath grated through her flaming lungs, a whisper of hope curled in her chest.
“No.” Natasha’s voice said firmly, and Raya crashed back into reality. “Stand up.”
Her skin was already stitching itself back together, and another shock sent a fresh wave of pain crashing through her, her destabilisers beeping wildly as she dragged herself to her feet.
The voice hooked into her mind, and the panic in her chest ebbed away at the familiarity of the orders, her body going rigid as the world swam before her.
“You are the commands given by our Empress. You are her weapon, her sharpest blade. Her every word is your holy writ.”
“Why have you done this?” Natasha asked, and Raya kept her eyes fixed on her, her mouth opening against her own wish.
“Failure means death.” She said, her voice shaking as she fought away her tears, wincing as her jaw cracked. “To lose is to welcome the Deep’s embrace.”
“Susceptibility to failure is a dangerous weakness.”
“Not here.” Natasha’s words were strong, but Raya could hear something hidden in them, something she didn’t know how to comprehend. “You train to control. Losing does not equate to death. We are not here to kill you.”
Raya winced as heat flared through her skin, her skin sealing itself together as she nodded to Natasha’s words, but she kept her expression empty as she squared her shoulders for the next order.
“What will you have me do?” She asked, the words etched into the seam of her lips falling easily into the air, her mind still feeling as it was hovering high above her body.
“Fight.” Natasha’s voice blocked out the thrumming of fearful heartbeats around her, and Raya’s body set itself into a practiced stance as the woman pushed a wooden dummy before her. “Do not use your powers. If you do, the shocks will continue. It will hurt you.”
A waver in the forceful tone, but Raya did not care, greedily latching onto the directions desperately as her body was pulled taut in preparation.
“As you wish.”
The words were so easy to say. It was so easy to lunge, so easy to ignore where everyone else had gone, easy to pretend the tears burning in her eyes were of no consequence to her heart.
Much harder to push down, however, was the insistent, irritating pounding of her panicked heart.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 2/7 to Spain.
12:29pm, May 10th, 2012.
The edges of her vision were blurring over as she left the training room, but she couldn’t let Raya see her break.
As she slowly shut the door behind her, she couldn’t bear to look up at the others, knowing their eyes were fixed on her, waiting for her to speak.
Natasha opened her mouth, but the sound that left her lips was a strangled sob.
Her hands were shaking as she gripped the door handle tightly, breathing in slowly as she struggled to keep her expression blank.
Her own emotions shouldn’t be clouding her mission. She should have been happy to figure out the very thing that would help them keep a handle on their issue.
Issue.
She forced away the thought, trying to ignore the way the walls were closing in around her, trying to push away the memory of Raya’s screams.
Screams that sounded too much like his.
Someone was approaching her, speaking softly but she did not move; her legs felt as if they would break under her if she tried.
Clint’s arms wrapped around her, causing her to suck in a shaky breath, and as he gently pulled her away from the door, his hands the only thing holding her up, something inside her shattered.
Her arms were trembling as she hugged him back, tears beginning to spill from her eyes as she buried her face into his shoulder, and the careful circles he traced on her back only broke her resolve further.
“I- I didn’t want to-” She said quietly, her words broken by tears, and Clint only squeezed her tighter.
“You did great, Nat, I know, I know…” He soothed, and she didn’t know if it was the kindness in his voice or the comforting familiarity of his embrace that made it harder to breathe.
“Are you-?” Tony asked, but before she could speak, Clint’s voice cut through the air, sharp and harsh.
“Not now. Keep an eye on Raya.”
He pulled back from her, but Natasha was grateful to feel his hand moving to press against the small of her back, keeping them attached.
She couldn’t keep the tears from falling as he guided her from the room, but she tried to stifle her rough breathing, guilt and shame swirling in her chest to throw her off balance as she unsteadily followed Clint’s footsteps.
A moment later, another door was sliding open, and then they were alone.
She didn’t even have to ask. Clint’s arms were wrapped around her immediately, pulling her tightly against his chest as tremors wracked her body, and her fingers dug into his back as she clutched at him helplessly.
There were no words to be spoken. She knew he knew everything, knew he understood why she had dissolved into a mewling mess of repressed emotions.
The warmth of his embrace did not melt the icy shards of grief that punctured her heart, but she no longer expected it to.
Clint’s arms shifted slightly around her, and she pressed her forehead to his shoulder, breathing slowly to regain her senses, but her heart was still hammering hard in her chest.
“You were right, at least.” Clint whispered against her hair, and she let out a humourless chuckle, not loosening her grip around him. “I’m not sure anyone else would’ve made that connection.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt worse about being right.” She murmured, but the words stung as they left her lips, realising too late that they were a lie.
Clint didn’t bring any attention to her mistake, but he did squeeze her a bit tighter, a gesture that made the trembling throughout her body lessen slightly.
It had come to her as she rifled through the papers of an ancient history journal, watching Thor and Raya from behind the one-way mirror, questions that had needed answers connecting into one great moment of realisation.
It was clear that her mother was an all-powerful dictator, or whatever the Cirican equivalent to that was, just based on Raya’s comments and strange looks to the freedom that surrounded her. It was clear, that no matter what Raya had been forced to go through, what she had endured, she was still bound to some twisted honour code to follow orders.
However, the goddess had broken free from Fury’s direct order during the fight with the Kleviah. She’d happily followed an order from Clint to consume the HYDRA agent, but Natasha had noticed the way her eyes had darted over to her before she complied.
The way Raya had responded to the orders now… it had only confirmed everything Natasha had feared.
Raya was conditioned to respond to a woman’s orders, and she was the only one who had gained even a modicum of respect from her.
Natasha swallowed the tears burning in her throat, keeping her face hidden in Clint’s shoulder as she whispered,
“I didn’t want to be right at all.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Clint said, his voice quiet, sympathy bleeding into the syllables in a way she’d grown used to. “I wish I could do this for you.”
Useless words, she knew. This was now her burden to carry, a nice, shiny medal of honour bestowed on her chest that read ‘Goddess Handler’, shimmering next to ‘Murderer’ and ‘Lost Cause’.
Anything Raya did, it was going to be all her fault.
Still. They both knew the words couldn’t change anything, but he’d said them anyway, just to try and comfort her.
It was nice.
“Thank you.” Natasha whispered, her grip on his shoulders loosening slightly as her breathing slowly returned to normal.
Thank you. She couldn’t even remember how many things she had to thank him for anymore, and the words weren’t enough, but as he pulled back to meet her eyes, she knew he understood.
Clint’s eyes were unusually bright, and Nat gave him a soft smile before pressing their foreheads together, her hand coming up to rest on the side of his face.
“We’re going to figure this out.” He said quietly, and she caught the way his voice broke slightly, trying to force out a promise they both desperately wanted to believe. “Everything. Even… even him.”
Natasha blinked away the fresh tears that filled her eyes, nodding gently so she wouldn’t dislodge his head from hers, unable to form a reply as her throat constricted painfully.
Clint squeezed her hip softly, and she pulled back from him, releasing a trembling breath as she untangled herself slowly from his arms.
There was only so much this could help. This moment of silence, a brief attempt at something like peace, it would eventually boil down to nothing.
She hadn’t known peace for her entire life.
Neither has she.
Natasha stepped back from Clint, pushing down the dread that slipped into her veins and threatened to overwhelm her yet again.
“We just need to try again.” She said, smoothing out a crinkle in her body suit to rid her body of excess tension. “Now that we know she’ll listen to me, we can control more of her actions. We can stop her from hurting herself and others.”
The words tasted like poison. Bitter, disgusting, and vile. Just another echo of those she’d sought to escape, turned back on someone who was hurting.
Everything she’d ever hated was being spewed from her own mouth, and she could hardly stand it, but she had to.
I’m just trying to help.
Briefly, Natasha wondered how many people had thought that to convince themselves she needed their help.
“Are you sure you’re going to be up to it?” Clint asked, and his heavy tone made her glance back up to meet his eyes.
Natasha straightened herself up, wiping the tear tracks from her cheeks as she breathed in slowly, settling the uneasy trembling in her heart.
“I have to be.” She whispered, and Clint seemed to visibly deflate at her words, but she wouldn’t let herself register the worry in his features as she moved past him.
She could hear him following her as she turned herself back towards the door, her hand straying towards her belt, tapping her finger against the compartment she knew held his coin.
No matter what, she needed to be prepared. She needed to drag her mind away from all the issues with HYDRA, because Raya and her Kleviah took precedence now.
Natasha fixed her face, grateful for Clint’s presence at her side even if she couldn’t find it in herself to look at him.
There would be time for everything else later, and she couldn’t let it distract her now. What was another few days when she’d already looking for the better half of fifty years?
James would just have to wait.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 2/7 to Spain.
5:30pm, May 10th, 2012.
Loki had not moved from his seat in several hours, and he found he could not fathom a need in the near future.
His mind would not stop replaying that moment in his mind; the moment when Raya’s hands had gripped Thor’s arms so tightly that he’d been sure his arms would snap. The moment when a harsh flash of red light had almost blinded him, only for him to regain his senses and see his brother, dazed and confused, stumbling away from Raya’s thrashing body.
He was getting sick of the scent of her blood, but the sight of it, splattered over white tile, dripping from her body, seemed to be ingrained in his mind.
Again and again, he watched her claw desperately at her shoulders, her arms, her nails sharpened into talons, her broken cries searing themselves into his mind.
It reminded him of something… something he couldn’t place, his mind wouldn’t clear of whatever damned fog seemed to have been placed over it since-
Loki let out a shaky breath as he laid his hand flat out on the table before him, observing the way his fingers trembled against the cool steel.
Almost like he cared.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the thought, trying to clear his mind completely, trying to rid himself of the nausea, of the sympathy that tormented him so viciously.
The Avengers had been stupid, honestly. How could they have thought training Raya like this would be a good idea? How could they have decided, how could they have made this decision without even asking her, the apparent warrior princess, if she’d ever lost a fight?
His fingers tapped against the table, his expression tightening into a frustrated sneer while his free hand moved to press absentmindedly against his chest.
The way Raya fought, it was nothing short of perfect, he could admit that to himself. She carried herself as if each fight were her last, yet with the conviction she could win, that she would win.
It was shocking, really, that she had gone down at all.
Hearing her beg Natasha to let her kill herself had shocked him in a way he didn’t truly understand. There was no way that she held herself so tightly to a regime that her loyalty stretched over universes; that would be idiotic.
She had to have an angle. Perhaps she was playing the Avengers by letting them believe she could be weakened and was planning to use their naivety to her advantage when she inevitably decided to fight her way out.
He scoffed at the idea, gently running his fingers over the place he knew the faded burn on his chest rested, narrowing his eyes at the table before him.
Maybe it was foolish to assume she would put that much thought into escaping from mortals. They didn’t deserve the effort.
“Loki.”
The voice made him freeze, his body tensing up instantly as his gaze remained fixed on the table before him.
There was no way she would seek him out. There couldn’t be. He had thought he would be safe here, hidden in the far corner of the ship. No one had been by in hours.
Once again, the memory of his undeserved anger towards Raya reappeared in his mind, and he gripped the table harshly to quell the tremors going through his fingers.
He did not speak, – his mind would not permit him to –, but that did not seem to matter to Raya, as he felt her presence draw closer, the strange warmth that seemed to perpetually hover around her setting his nerves on edge.
“Thor said we need to eat.” She was saying, and then a bowl appeared in front of him, her gloves flashing into his sight as she pushed a spoon towards him. “Tony found you on the… cameras.”
Internally, he cursed Stark’s entire bloodline, but his destabiliser beeped irritably at him as his magic swirled inside his chest, and he sighed frustratedly.
There was a clatter of cutlery on the opposite side of the table, and he swallowed hard as he realised Raya had taken a seat, his hand slowly curling around the spoon she’d left beside his bowl.
Loki let out a soft breath, trying to compose himself as his stomach flipped with unease, forcing himself to look up at her.
Her eyes were not fixed on him thankfully, instead on the bowl before her as she prodded the concoction within, her brow furrowed as if in concern.
Strands of her hair had been pulled from her tight braid, remnants of blood and sweat gleaming on her tanned skin as the sunlight spilled into the room, and Loki frowned slightly as he studied the bruises and slashes across her face, one particularly nasty one following the line of her neck, visible through the tattered fabric of her body suit.
As her fingers tightened around her spoon, he could see blood drying on her gloves, the red turned brown, tainting the pure white and making him feel ill.
Her features were laced with the barest hint of interest as she dug her spoon into what he now realised was a sort of beef stew, and he wasn’t sure why the sight of her examining the food made his heart feel heavy.
“You look awful.”
Loki regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. She knew what she looked like, she wasn’t stupid. Why did he feel the need to comment on it at all? Why was his voice so sharp, as if she had hurt her body to personally offend him? Why was he even speaking to her? Why was she here?
More importantly, why did he care?
He did not get a chance to ask any of these questions, however, as Raya looked up to meet his eyes, and his head suddenly felt ludicrously empty.
Her eyes flitted over his face, seeming to study each individual feature with careful consideration, and Loki felt as if his heart was in his throat, panic shooting through him at the contemplating look in her eyes.
After a long moment of silence, Raya’s eyes narrowed slightly, and she tilted her head, apparently very intent in her examination.
“You do not.” She said quietly, and the clear conviction in her tone made Loki’s lips part in surprise, all words he’d had ready to fire at her dying in his throat.
He blinked a few times, unable to think of a reply as he felt a harsh rush of heat burning along his neck, and Raya’s features tightened as she continued to stare at him.
“Your heart is very fast.” She said simply, and Loki felt nauseous as her eyes continued to rove over his face, ducking his head in an attempt to escape her gaze.
“So I’ve been told.” He muttered through gritted teeth, hurriedly digging his spoon into the stew and forcing it into his mouth; anything to distract him from the scalding nature of her stare.
The taste was not what he had been expecting; as it was Midgardian swill, there was no need to pretend any of their pitiful attempts at cooking could compare to anything he’d had prepared on Asgard.
However, Loki did not find it as intolerable as he thought and was slightly shocked to realise that he enjoyed the mixture of flavours dancing along his tongue.
After a few moments of simply watching him, Raya’s eyes drifted back to her own food, and as she raised her now full spoon tentatively to her lips, he understood why she’d sought him out.
She had needed a tester for the food. By letting him eat first, she was ensuring none of it was poisoned.
Loki fought the urge to scoff as he dug his spoon back into the stew, ignoring the way his hand seemed to shake ever so slightly as he took in a deep breath.
As if he would be the one who wasn’t poisoned. With all the spite everyone on the ship held for him, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find his food laced with some toxic chemical or another.
Loki couldn’t stop his eyes from following Raya’s subtle movements, waiting for her quiet complacency to turn into anger, but not once did her blank expression change, though her breathing became more even as she ate.
There was a strange sweetness in the way her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as seconds passed, and against his better judgement, Loki felt his rapid heartbeat slowly coming under control, his fear abating in the wake of her silence.
Loki didn’t like how disarming the gentle look of ease was on her face. He didn’t like how she let him stare at her, as if she felt no threat from him at all.
He didn’t like how much he was staring at her.
“Why are you here?” He asked, and his voice was harsher than he’d intended, but he pushed away the notion.
He could be as harsh as he liked. He didn’t owe her anything.
Except my life.
Raya’s unfocused eyes lazily drifted over to him, pulling her spoon from her mouth, and irritation flared up in his heart as he took in the depth of her indifference towards him.
Was she not angry at what he’d done? He certainly didn’t regret it, he had no reason to, but how could she sit here with him, as if he hadn’t done anything at all, as if throwing her against a wall and threatening her life was commonplace?
“I do not understand how to be around the others.” Raya said, and he watched as her legs came up to rest beside her, the hand not around her spoon reaching up to toy with her knee. “And I did not want to… feel the heaviness after what I did.”
“And rather than be with them, you decided to… what, track me down?” He said incredulously, and she nodded, loose wisps of hair fluttering against her cheeks as she turned her gaze back to him.
“You are… easier.” Raya said, her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were carefully weighing each of her words before they left her lips. “It is easier to be around you, when I know you hate me.”
A slight edge of sadness clung to her words, but Loki was so taken aback by them that he almost missed the tone completely.
No one had ever said being in his presence was easy. If anything, he hoped to inspire unease in the awful beings that paraded themselves around him on fearful legs, but something about her words made him feel… lighter.
“I do.” He said, but his voice was a whisper, and he felt his brows furrow in confusion as uncertainty twisted his stomach. “You are easy to despise.”
As the sunlight smoothed itself over Raya’s features, illuminating the spark in her eyes, Loki swallowed hard, trying to focus on her words as a confusing array of emotions battled in his heart.
“I know.” She said, her lips pulling back to widen her smile, revealing her fangs as she studied a piece of beef interestedly. “I understand that.”
She looked so different when she smiled.
The scar on her lip seemed much darker than usual as it curved up towards her nose, and strangely, Loki found himself wondering where she had gotten it.
If he asked, would she answer?
She would, of course she would. However, he would never know how much of what she told him was a lie, and the idea of finding any amount of courage to ask made his shoulders sage with exhaustion.
Instead, Loki allowed the tension in his body to dissipate slightly as he lifted a spoonful of the warm liquid to his lips, watching Raya’s head turn towards the high window on their left.
“I have never seen something like that before.” Raya murmured as she curled her fingers around her bowl, looking relieved as she pressed her palms fully into the sides.
Absorbing the warmth.
Loki followed her gaze, staring out at the colourful sky, white clouds decorated with pink, blue, purple hues as the sun descended in the sky.
“You’ve never seen a sunset?” He asked, even though from the look of wonderment clearly plastered over her face, he was almost certain of the answer.
“Never.” She echoed, her smile fading, but her features still bright with a muted sense of excitement as she admired the sky. “It looks… nice.”
The way her nose scrunched up in concentration for half a second as she searched for the correct word made an uneasy warmth settle in Loki’s chest, but he fought through the feeling to say,
“I suppose it does.”
He thought about asking her how she felt after what happened earlier. He thought about asking whether she knew he would be teaching her how to contain her magic. He thought about telling her she should be angry with him, or to experience anything other than apparent relief when she was with him.
Before he could, however, Raya had turned her eyes back to him, half a smile lighting up her features as she carefully dipped her spoon into her food again, and all the questions left his mind as he looked back at her.
Inexplicably, Loki’s heart fluttered.
Chapter 13: Like Me For Me
Summary:
HEYYYY guys, I'm back again! School is driving me actually insane, so this chapter is a long one, as I'm not sure when i'll be able to get time to work on chapter 14. ANYWAYYY, was giggling and kicking my feet over this chapter and I'm just screaming, losing my MIND over raya and loki, but no one is shocked!!!
so, thank you for all your kudos, all your comments, all your bookmarks, they mean so much to me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter, bc even though it stressed me OUT i enjoyed writing it.
Special mention to my friend, sunnie, who is making more rayaloki fanart for me as we speak <3 you're amazing and ilysm!!!
chapter title from delicate - taylor swift
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 3/7 to Spain.
9:47am, May 11th, 2012.
“We need to be able to check your vitals, kid.”
“My what?”
Tony sighed, tapping the table before him as he looked up at Raya, no longer surprised to see her confused expression staring back at him.
She was sitting ramrod straight on the med bay’s bed, her gloveless hands folded before her as she gripped the fabric of her body suit tightly.
How that fabric seemed to simultaneously repel and draw in blood, dirt, sweat and water, Tony wasn’t sure he’d ever understand, but it was once again almost perfect, every broken seam and torn piece of material perfectly threaded together as if they’d never been wrecked.
“Your vitals are things like your body temperature, your brain activity, your blood pressure and respiratory rate…” Tony’s voice trailed off as her expression remained perplexed and he shook his head as he tried to put it in simpler terms. “Basically, it’s the parts of yourself that keep you alive. I’m- Well, we’re getting concerned that your body is reacting poorly to continued use of the destabilisers.”
That had always been a worry for him; they had never been intended for an extended period of use, only until Loki had been transported back to Asgard, a feat that apparently only took a few minutes.
He had not had time to evaluate the damage they could do over the course of a few days, and Raya had almost never had a chance to leave hers since arriving here.
Internally, as he’d tossed and turned last night, the footage of Raya’s fight with Thor practically ingrained in his brain, he’d wondered whether the adverse effects of continued use would outweigh the idea of releasing her from them entirely.
Raya nodded in response to his words, her features pulling into a tight frown, her eyes still fixed on him as if she was waiting for more, and Tony exhaled slowly as he looked back at her.
“I need to know if you’ll kill anyone who touches your skin, even if they’re wearing gloves.” He said quickly, and Raya’s fingers twitched slightly at his words, the only outward sign of her discomfort. “This can be done with machines, but its… well, its not something I want to try if there’s an alternative.”
Raya was quiet, her eyes falling to rest on her hands, and Tony followed her gaze, unable to stop his brows from furrowing in concern at the scars that littered her skin.
Several of the sealed wounds were raised, a poorly done attempt at cauterisation it seemed, and some white and faded, others slightly reddened with irritation, stretched up her arms, disappearing under her bodysuit.
“I do not know.” She said finally, her eyes still fixed on her hands, and Tony sighed quietly to himself. “I have never had anyone try with something other than their bare hands, and after numerous… incidents, they stopped.”
Tony looked at her, his heart aching at the forlorn note in her voice, sympathy threatening to suffocate him as he tapped his nails against the metal tabletop.
“I really do not know.” Raya continued, now looking up to meet his eyes as her arms crossed over her stomach. “And I do not wish to harm any more of your humans.”
Tony blinked at her phrasing – surely, she knew he was a human, right? – but he brushed past it as he moved slowly closer to her, noting the way her body tensed at his approach.
“Its alright. We can do this another way, without hurting anybody.” He said softly, pausing a few feet from her bedside to give her a moment to tell him to move away. “We just need to be able to assess what’s happening, so we know how to help.”
Raya’s frown deepened slightly, but her eyes darted from him to the chair beside her bed as she nodded curtly, and Tony stepped forwards carefully to sit, his heart squeezing at the confusion in her face.
“Why did you not just do it?” She asked, her voice suddenly very quiet as she shifted slightly away from him, her hands twisting tightly in the sheets under her. “I do not understand why you are asking me.”
“I’m asking you, because its your body we’re going to be testing.” Tony answered, pushing away the ache of horror in his chest at the sincerity of her question. “I want to be able to protect you and my team.”
Raya was still watching him with an awful sense of wonder in her gaze, and Tony cleared his throat as he forced a smile onto his face.
“Let’s face it, we’re nothing if you’re injured. We need you.” He urged, and Raya’s eyes widened infinitesimally at his words. “Besides, I’d hate to lose all my good looks in one unfortunate fire.”
Surprise laced every feature of her face, and then a strange laugh, harsh from disuse.
“You are unusual.” Raya said, and Tony felt relief sweep through him as a ghost of a smile crept across her serious expression. “It is interesting.”
“We’ve got to work on how you give compliments.” He murmured as he smiled at her, stretching back in the chair slightly. “Right after your lessons in how not to sauté your allies, we’re practicing positive affirmations.”
There was an edge of regret shining in her eyes at his words, but her faint smile didn’t fade completely, which was a pretty huge victory in his eyes.
“Can I not check my vitals myself?” Raya said, her fingers now tapping against her skin, and Tony realised she was watching his hands closely. “My heart is still beating, and I am breathing. Is that not the purpose of the experiment?”
Tony folded his hands in front of him to stop himself fidgeting, and tried not to smile when he noticed Raya copy him.
No use teaching her anymore bad habits; they had enough to deal with as it was.
“Essentially, yes, but I want to be more in depth, just in case.” He said, leaning slightly against the bed, but taking care not to move any closer to her than necessary. “Heaven forbid, a scaly lizard monster bites you in the leg and you don’t tell us, having your vitals on hand will give us a baseline of how your body reacted before infection.”
No laugh this time, but her smile was still there.
Good.
“There is an element of difficulty if you were to do it yourself.” He continued and Raya nodded along with his words, her body relaxing slightly as she watched him. “You don’t know how we do it here, whereas Dr Banner knows it blindfolded. It’s an unnecessary risk.”
Raya blinked at him, and he could practically read the question in her eyes; “Why would you care about putting me at risk?”
It made some well-hidden, long unacknowledged part of his soul ache, but he forced himself to keep up his smile, unwilling to let Raya see the uncertainty in his heart.
“We will use the machines. I can program them to touch as little skin as possible, but contact will be unavoidable when we’re checking your pulse rate.” He said, keeping his voice strong, and the smile vanished from Raya’s lips, her hands curling in her blanket. “You won’t blow up robots, will you?”
“Let us hope not.” Raya said quietly, her eyes falling from his to drift back to the handcuffs that encircled the bed’s metal sides. “Will you restrain me?”
Tony glanced at them, his stomach turning over at the idea of holding her down, and he shook his head quickly, guilt swirling through him at the memory of how they’d contained her for the past few days.
“No. You’ll be able to move freely if you need to.” He said quickly, shooting her a genuine smile, the worry in her expression making him swallow hard, trying to clear his mind. “This room will be sealed though. Clint told me it’s what you preferred.”
A breath of relief slipped from between her lips, and Tony watched as her hands loosened in her bedsheets, her knee bouncing slightly as she nodded.
Raya’s nervous features made him want to reach out and steady the tremble in her hands, made him want to reassure her that everything would be okay, but the idea of possibly lying to her hurt more than it did to watch her fidget.
“Sit up straight, kid. You need to be upright for this.” He said, blinking to disperse the ache of pity as he forced his own leg to stop jumping. “It will be quick, and if anything hurts, for any reason, yell out and we’ll stop, alright?”
The look in her eyes told him she wouldn’t, but he wanted her to hear him say the words anyway, to let her know he would listen.
“Alright.” Raya echoed, moving to settle herself against the raised end of the bed, her destabilisers clinking against the metal sides as she gripped them tightly.
It made Tony uncomfortable, just how desperate he seemed to want to make her feel comforted; he couldn’t remember ever experiencing this strange sense of protectiveness that was blossoming in his chest, and he swallowed against the sudden burn in his throat as he rose to his feet.
As he crossed the threshold between rooms, he glanced over his shoulder, catching the moment Raya’s eyes flicked over to the robot into the corner of the room, her gaze apprehensive.
He sighed to himself as the door slid shut behind him, and he quickly pressed the button to seal her in, looking up at the sound of clicking keys to his right.
Natasha was leaning over a computer, her face illuminated by the flashing lights on the screen, while Banner was positioning himself before the controls of the robot, getting a feel for the machine.
“You sure you’ll be able to do this?” Tony asked as he crossed the room towards them, his eyes flicking out towards Raya, able to see her clearly through the glass.
“I’ve done much tricker procedures with less advanced equipment, Stark.” Bruce said, and though his voice was not unkind, Tony felt himself bristle slightly at the tone. “As long as she stays still, she’ll be fine.”
“Did you make sure she knew we weren’t torturing her?”
Tony jumped slightly as Clint stepped into the corner of his vision, his hand pressing to his chest as his heart raced in his chest.
“God, we need a bell for all you fucking secret agents.” He muttered, rubbing his chest, meeting Clint’s eyes as he heard Natasha chuckle quietly. “I tried. It’s another thing all together if she believes me.”
“Yes, because you’ve proven to be so competent when it comes to keeping her safe.”
A familiar drawling voice came from behind them, and Tony didn’t bother to turn around, simply looking over at Natasha, noting the way her jaw tightened in annoyance.
“Why is Rock of Ages here for this?” He asked her under his breath, fighting a slight smile as Nat reached into her pocket and placed an electric remote threateningly onto the desk before her.
“Unfortunately, because I said he had to be.” She mumbled, leaning back from the computer and meeting his eyes, her lips turned down into a contemplating frown. “If you say one more thing, I’m going to fry your fucking insides.”
Her last comment was directed over her shoulder, and Tony heard Loki scoff irritably, but the god did not make any more attempts to speak.
Natasha let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing her fingers over the bridge of her nose, and Tony was reminded very suddenly of his mother wearing the same expression as she was forced to deal with his antics again and again.
“So, am I assuming you just enjoy babysitting an entitled prince, or…” He whispered, smiling at the look of mock annoyance she gave him as she ran her hand through her hair.
“He’s got to be here, just in case.” Natasha said, tilting her head towards where Raya was sitting on the bed, eyeing the now-moving robot with bewilderment. “Something about him makes her relax, I’m not sure why, but that’s not really what I’m concerned with.”
Tony stared at her in confusion, and Nat shrugged as she cast her gaze back out towards Raya.
“I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve seen it. It’s like…” Her voice trailed off, and Tony crossed his arms as he watched her search for the right words. “It’s like she doesn’t care what she does for him, because she’s performing for us.”
“You’re saying she relaxes around the egotistical maniac?” He said, his disbelief clear in his voice, and Nat’s eyes narrowed as she contemplated him.
“She knows he hates her, and its familiar. We’re all unknowns.” She said quietly, clicking a few keys on the board in front of her, and bright lights illuminated the room before them. “Just watch.”
Nat turned in her chair, swiftly picking up the small remote in her hand, and Tony looked over his shoulder at Loki, who was reclined against the far wall, his eyes burning with hatred.
“Get up.” Nat’s voice was much colder now, and Tony’s eyes flicked over to her for a moment, noting the way her kind features had tightened harshly.
Loki groaned angrily, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet, and Tony felt his hand instinctively curling into a fist as the god moved up beside him.
Tony took a step closer to Nat, fighting away the slight twinge of fear that erupted in his chest as Loki’s presence hovered over them, forcing his eyes out towards Raya.
Her expression was still blank, but her eyes betrayed her fear as the robot carefully placed a blood pressure cuff around her arm, her gloveless fingers trembling slightly.
Her dark eyes darted up towards him, and Tony offered her a gentle smile through the glass, but then her gaze was fixed on a point to his right, and her face relaxed immediately.
Surprised, Tony glanced at Loki, watching as he glared out at Raya, his teeth bared into a sneer, his knuckles white as he gripped his hands tightly.
“Weird.” He mused as he turned his eyes back to Raya, noting the way she squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden brightness around her.
Natasha hummed in agreement, pushing a chair out towards Loki, who eyed it disdainfully, his fingers still tight around his wrist.
“If it works, it works.” Nat muttered, dimming the lights, and Tony watched as Raya’s eyes slowly reopened, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her. “I’d rather keep her calm than have a repeat of yesterday.”
“A spectacular failure, that was.” Loki muttered, and Tony caught the way his eyes darted back to Raya every few seconds, as if checking she was still held in place. “Really, I hoped there would’ve been at least one braincell between you all.”
Natasha turned her eyes on Loki, her fingers tapping against the remote, and as he tightened his jaw irritably, Tony had to stifle his laugh behind his hand.
“I’m sure it’ll go much better when you’re the teacher.” Tony said, his voice edged with a taunt, and Loki’s eye twitched as his gaze remained fixed determinedly on the opposite room. “I’m a bit worried about her fire magic near your greasy ass hair, but I guess we’ll see what happens soon enough.”
Loki’s body stiffened, but he made no move to attack, so Tony leaned against the table, watching as the computer began to record Raya’s vitals.
“Her resting heart rate is 34. Is that even possible?” He murmured, and Natasha quirked a brow towards him, a slight smile on her lips.
“She breathes fire, Tony.”
Tony watched a few numbers flash across the screen as he shrugged, nodding his head in agreement.
“Touché.”
Loki sighed in exasperation at his side, and Tony glanced at him, ready to rebut any snarky comment the god might have, but Loki’s voice was bored as he said,
“I take it your equipment is not supposed to be doing that.”
Tony looked out to where the god was looking, and saw Raya staring at them, a thermometer melting in her mouth as the lights on the robot at her side flashed wildly.
The computer made a panicked noise, and Natasha gasped incredulously as she tapped at the keyboard, gesturing for Tony to lean closer.
“Her internal temperature is approximately forty-seven million Kelvin.” She said, and Tony caught the slight glimmer of wonder in the woman’s eyes, smiling to himself at the sight.
“She really is a damn star.” Tony murmured, reaching across Nat to save the recordings in a separate file, his mind whirring with possibilities.
With that amount of energy… it wasn’t hard to imagine why the destabilisers weren’t working. They were trying to combat a heat that was be near impossible to recreate, on Earth at least. The closest thing he could compare it to was the Large Hadron Collider at CERN, but to have those temperatures met within a humanoid body?
It was intriguing, at the very least.
“Your star killed your metal toy.” Loki said, his tone annoyed, and when Tony looked up, the robot was no longer flashing.
Raya was poking the metal with her gloveless hand, her destabilisers resting on the table beside her, and as her fingers closed around the robot’s antenna, it began to melt onto her skin.
“She was talking to it.” Bruce’s voice came from in front of him, and he saw the man climbing down from the control panel, his face strangely pale.
Tony was almost afraid to ask the question that was eating away at his insides, and luckily, Nat beat him to it.
“What did she say?”
Loki recoiled as Bruce walked up to them, but Tony noticed that he was still watching Raya, his fingers digging into his wrist angrily.
Prick.
“She…” Bruce said, his expression troubled as he slipped his glasses back on. “She kept asking it why it wasn’t hurting her, but just now, she kept telling it she was sorry.”
Tony looked out at Raya as Banner spoke, watching her face fall as the robot whirred sadly and shut down, the metal slipping through her fingers and along her arms.
Her features were spilt between confusion and something like sympathy as her hand burnt right through the robot’s head, and Tony could see her brows furrowing in concern as the wiring inside began to spark.
“She said she didn’t know why she was hurting it.” Bruce continued, and his voice sounded heavier than before. “Whispering something about a sadness that wasn’t for her, a feeling she isn’t used to.”
The air suddenly seemed awfully stale as Tony forced it through his lungs, his eyes following Raya’s movements, catching the moment she rested her head on top of the melting robot’s light fixture.
She was patting the robot’s side, as if trying to wake it up, and as her hands squeezed the softening metal, she turned to look towards them.
Her eyes were bright with tears, but her expression was still conflicted, too many emotions trying to pull at different parts of her face, and she let go of the robot, studying her silver hands confusedly.
“She’s learning empathy.” Tony said quietly, leaning closer to the glass, his heart aching. “Has anyone noticed anything like this before?”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Clint side eyeing Loki, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze, his expression laced with anger.
“Yes. She…” Clint sighed, rolling his eyes slightly to the ceiling before continuing. “She asked how else to tell someone she was sorry, rather than fighting them. For him.”
He tilted his head towards Loki, who was glaring down at the table before him, his body rigid as his hand pressed hard against his chest.
Right.
Tony glanced at Nat, who shook her head, but as her eyes drifted back over to the other room, she jumped to her feet, speaking into the mic before her.
“Raya, no, don’t eat that!”
Tony turned back to see Raya frozen, her eyes on Nat as she licked up her wrist, her tongue burning through the melted steel, but she immediately dropped her hands to her sides at the command.
The metal dripped slowly from her skin, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Loki flinch, turning away from the glass quickly.
He didn’t spare it any more thought, – what did he care about the dickhead’s emotional state – instead gesturing for Nat to dismiss Raya.
As Nat stood, a smirking Clint following as she waved her remote threateningly towards a scowling Loki, he slid into her empty seat, pulling up the robot’s recordings of Raya’s vitals.
“She’s showing signs of prehypertension.” Bruce said, rolling his chair across the floor to slide up beside him. “She’s physically healthy but her blood pressure is showing up at 130/80.”
“I’m not really surprised, Banner. Doesn’t really sound like her home life was fantastic.” Tony murmured, his eyes scanning the sheet as he heard the door shut behind the others. “Stress tends to heighten this sort of thing.”
“I’m well aware.” Bruce muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, and Tony glanced at him, sighing under his breath.
“Yes, green rage monster, I didn’t forget.” He said, rolling his eyes as he scrolled further down. “Fourteen breaths per minute at rest; not a perfect score, but she wasn’t exactly relaxed, so I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.”
Tony could feel Bruce’s eyes on him as Raya’s brain activity and pulse rate, but he didn’t look over, not willing to face the questions he knew the man had.
He didn’t care about the strange thing between Loki and Raya, but he knew it only made her look that much more suspicious.
“Her heart rate remained pretty low, despite her nerves, which is quite… unique.” Bruce said instead, and Tony let out a breath of relief. “But it spiked for a few seconds… here.”
He pointed, and Tony glanced at the time stamp for the spike; quite an increase in a short period, which didn’t make sense unless she had been introduced to new stimuli.
10:07.
He furrowed his brow, trying to cast back his mind. Maybe she’d simply been scared by the robot in that second, and he’d missed it. It would add another layer to her decision to burn it.
Then it clicked, and an incredulous laugh slipped from his lips as he leant forwards on his palm.
“It was Loki.” He said, rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably. “When she realised he was here for the first time.”
Bruce blinked at him, his hand coming up to adjust his glasses as he turned his attention back to the screen.
“Do you think he scared her?” Bruce started, but Tony immediately shook his head.
“He doesn’t scare her; I think she’s made that clear.” He mused, tapping his fingers against the table as he considered the lines carefully. “It could’ve been an adrenaline rush of some kind, if she even has adrenaline.”
Both men fell silent, staring at the screen in confusion and disbelief, and after a minute or two, Tony sighed, standing up as he pressed his fingers into the tight muscles on the back of his neck.
Bruce raised an eyebrow at him, and he offered him a tired smile as he turned towards the door.
“I’m going to need a drink for this.” He said, glancing over his shoulder in an offer, and Bruce relaxed into his chair, nodding.
“God, I thought you’d never ask.”
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 3/7 to Spain.
11:12am, May 11th, 2012.
“This is only a precaution, alright?”
Raya nodded as Natasha clipped the handcuffs over her wrists, the weight of her newly replaced destabilisers now familiar as she glanced at the door before her.
It was the same as the many others they had passed as they walked through the ship, but being this close, she could hear the hum of agitated voices and racing hearts through the walls.
Natasha gave her a smile, but Raya only narrowed her eyes at her, before turning her eyes over to Loki, who was staring at the floor, his brows furrowed in frustration.
Raya let out a soft breath, unclenching her fists and allowing her bound hands to rest in her lap as Natasha turned and disappeared through the door, nervousness churning in her stomach.
She kept her back straight against the wall as her eyes drifted back over to Loki, forcing herself to keep her fingers still and focusing on the steady beat of his heart.
She could hear the voice of Nick Fury behind the door, Natasha’s now joining his conversation with Steve, and she tried to block out the sound of it.
“Listen only when you are ordered to.”
Loki was breathing slowly. His fingers were tapping against his leg.
One. Pause. Two. Pause. Three. Pause.
His heartbeat was so strong, grounding her as her fingers absentmindedly mirrored his movements,
One. Pause. Two. Pause. Three. Pause.
He was looking at her.
“Stop it.”
Raya blinked, dragging her head out of the steady rhythm of his breathing, and looked up to see him glaring at her, his fingers digging into his thigh.
She continued to stare at him, and he let out a gruff exhale of irritation, shifting away from her as he laced his fingers together, his handcuffs shining in the bright lights,
“Looking at me like that.” He muttered, and Raya tilted her head towards him in confusion. “Looking at me at all.”
“Like what?” She asked curiously, her hands resting carefully on her legs, and Loki rolled his eyes.
“Like you want to kill me.” He said, his voice harsh and biting, but she only looked at him, confusion swirling around in her chest as his eyes met hers.
Kill Loki?
“Why would I want to kill you?” She said quietly, unsure why his face tightened at her words, why his nails dug into his skin as if trying to claw his way out of his own body.
Perhaps that, of all things, was understandable.
“Why wouldn’t you?” He spat, and though the words burned with anger, his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he turned away from her.
Raya’s eyes traced down the slope of his arms; his muscles were tensed as if he were about to lunge at her, his hands clenched into fists. His shoulders were squared, almost as if he were curling in on himself, and as her eyes roamed over his face, they caught on the sparkling green of his angry eyes.
Strange.
Before she could answer, before she could ask him again what he meant, the door before them opened, and immediately the rage in Loki’s features died, leaving his expression blank and his features empty.
“Raya.” Natasha’s voice floated out to her, and her back straightened instantly in response to the sharp tone. “In here, now.”
Raya stood quickly, her hands twisting in her handcuffs as she glanced at Loki again, but he was stoically avoiding her gaze, his head turned down the opposite end of the hallway.
“He’s coming too.” Natasha continued, and Raya looked back to see her face twisted in irritation, her thumb hovering over a small button on a remote. “Stand.”
Something like relief eased the flare of panic in her chest as Loki grunted in annoyance, pushing himself begrudgingly off the wall to follow her in, and Raya ignored Natasha’s half smile as she walked past.
She did not understand why people kept doing it, like it was easy. Did it not hurt their faces? Did their muscles not spasm afterwards? Did Earth simply… let people express their smiles?
It was confusing, and she refused to allow herself to linger on it.
“Ah, there they are.” Nick Fury’s voice rang out, edged with displeasure, and Raya’s eyes snapped over to him immediately, setting her shoulders as she felt the oppressive stares of the agents that lined the walls land on her. “The motherfucking Prince and Princess.”
Loki let out a low noise of anger behind her, and internally, she thanked him for expressing the irritation she wouldn’t let cross her face.
Natasha walked at her side, her face set in a barely hidden expression of worry, but Raya did not break her eye contact with Fury to assess her features further, coming to stop a few paces before him.
As Loki breathed out an irritated sigh, stepping up into her peripheral vision, she allowed her shoulders to relax slightly, keeping her breathing even as silence descended around them, harsh and ominous.
There was a sense of dread hanging in the air, and it only intensified as Steve emerged from Fury’s right, his expression troubled, his jaw tight.
Raya did not speak, – she was not permitted to –, instead listening to the frantic thrumming of the heartbeats all around her.
They were nervous. Afraid.
But of what?
Her hands flexed in her cuffs as the Director’s eye left hers, and she finally blinked, keeping herself rigid as Natasha walked slowly towards a screen hovering over the table before them.
The way she walked, Raya was reminded starkly of the traitors she’d marched to the gallows time and time again.
Guilt ridden, and tense with apprehension at what awaited them.
The tight ball of unease in her stomach did not lessen.
“Your Kleviah have found a resting place, it seems.” Nick said, his arms crossed as his eye fixed on her, and she nodded slowly, her chest tightening. “Base units in are hunting them down as we speak.”
Raya blinked once.
She blinked twice.
She breathed in as the weight of his words settled in, and her exhale hurt, ached so unbearably as she stared at his irritated expression.
There was a moment when she thought about it. How her hands would feel as they clasped around his throat. How the euphoria would hit as the light drained from his eye, mixing with the heat of her rage, melting through his flesh until his blood seeped into her burning skin.
Then Loki shifted at her side, and the reminder of his presence dragged her back into reality.
“Then your people are already dead.” She said quietly, her fists clenching as she fought against every instinct she had, her breath stuttering in her lungs.
A wave of panicked muttering erupted between the agents standing around her, but her gaze remained fixed on Nick, watching as his features twisted with anger.
The respect she’d allowed herself to begrudgingly build for him disappeared, and she could feel her rage simmering beneath her skin, enough so that her destabilisers let out a beep of warning.
The sound silenced the group surrounding her, and she forced herself to breathe in, her fingers twitching in her handcuffs, aching to shatter someone’s spine.
“We are not sending people on the ground; they’re dropping explosives over the one we’ve discovered.” Nick said, and Raya stiffened at the challenge in his tone; she had been spoken to as if she was a child enough to understand condescension. “It is already hurt.”
Raya swallowed hard as the screen before her flicked on, horror and incredulity mixing in her chest to send her destabilisers beeping angrily as her energy seared through her.
The vision was clear; trees stretched out before her eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen before, and she could hear the rallying cries of soldiers in the background as a repeated clicking echoed through the air.
“There is never only one.” Raya said as she stared at the screen, her heart wrenching as she took a step forward, and immediately, guns cocked all around her.
“You said you wanted my help-” Raya started, but Fury cut her off, his eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Yes, but because of your little outburst yesterday, we moved ahead without you.”
Raya glared over at Natasha, who’s head was hanging weakly, and then to Steve, who’s eyes were locked on her, something like sadness shining in his eyes.
“I raised these creatures! Their hearts were fashioned by my hands!” She said angrily, her voice louder than it should’ve been, but her rage was tearing through her complacency. “They do not understand the terrain they have been forced into, and they will kill everything that moves!”
No one answered her cries, and as the screen before her flashed to a different scenery, her stomach roiled with anger.
A Klevia was lying in a patch of trees far below, its claws shining red with fresh blood, and as its keening laugh filled the room, Raya could see it writhing in pain.
That is not right.
The way the humans reacted to seeing the Kleviah for the first time, she could not fathom a predator that could come close to besting them.
A flare of light began to tumble towards the fallen Klevia, and its horrible scream of anguish as the ball of flames rushed towards it made bile rise in her throat.
Raya recognised her.
Lerna.
The cheers of the soldiers on the screen only caused her confusion to heighten, but as the screen refocused, Lerna was gone.
Gone.
It only took a few seconds, and Raya figured it out a moment before the screen exploded into crackling waves of distorted static.
A diversion. There was nothing on Earth to rival the Kleviah.
She had wounded herself.
Everyone in the room gasped and shrieked as bloodcurdling screams erupted from the screen, the sound of torn metal and the Kleviah’s high pitched laughter as the other two undoubtedly swooped in from the sides reverberating through Raya’s head, but she stayed perfectly still.
Her chest was heaving. Her eyes were burning. Her heart was aching.
But she stayed perfectly still.
The turmoil around her eventually settled, and she slowly turned her eyes back to Natasha, who’s eyes were wide in her shock, then to Fury, who’s expression had lost its anger and self-righteousness.
Now, it held only fear.
Raya had to fight against the burn of her magic as it erupted in her palms, the small shocks beginning to ripple down her arms only serving to irritate her further.
“They are taunting us.” Raya said, and her voice shook with rage, her breathing fast as she curled her hands into fists, trying to fight the energy racing through her body. “They are waiting for us to attack, but they want me! They will kill anyone to get to me, for it was I who gave them power!”
Her eyes were hot. Burning. Wet.
“You cannot trust me, and yet you take my barest word and act as if they were orders! The Kleviah are unpredictable, wild!” She yelled, and as she took a step towards Nick, Steve’s arm raised immediately, a shield blocking them from view. “How could you do this?”
Nick was bristling and Raya felt herself go rigid as he glared at her.
His heart was racing. She could feel it.
“You are leading us towards some sort of trap!” Nick yelled back, and Raya froze, her words caught in her throat. “They follow you, as you said, and we can’t risk a second tyrant running loose, with Kleviah at her disposal!”
Loki’s scoff behind her made her glance back, and she found his green eyes bright with rage, his brows furrowed in anger.
“Raya is not as I am!” He yelled before she could, and she saw his eye twitch, as if his body was rejecting the sentiment, but he only continued. “For whatever moronic reason, she has only tried to save your pathetic lives!”
Loki’s destabiliser began beeping faster, and Raya’s intensified with it, an unusual warmth blossoming in her chest at his sudden support.
“I am not leading you to a trap, you have not allowed me to be in any planning concerning the creatures I know!” Raya shouted, and her hands settled on the table before them as she tried to control her breathing. “I have never set foot on Earth before! This is not my fault; your people are dead because of your inability to confer with me!”
“How can we trust anything you have to say?” Nick shot back, and Raya saw Nat and Steve glance nervously at each other.
Raya let out a humourless laugh, her voice reaching a higher pitch as she glared at Nick, feeling Loki’s eyes flash over to her.
“How? How?” She said angrily, her gloved fingers beginning to dig into the wood, feeling it begin to crack under her fingertips. “Because I cannot lie!”
Ringing silence.
Her frustration seared through her at the stunned expressions on everyone’s faces, and finally, she could see a sense of comprehension dawning in their expressions, a hope burning in her that, maybe, she could be heard.
“Anything you ask of me; I must answer truthfully. Anything you order me to do, I must follow without question, because I can not lie my way around them.” She continued, her voice still burning with rage, but she was able to suck in a few steadying breaths as she felt her eyes prickle again. “And yet, there have been no questions, no consultation. You do things that you think must be right.”
She blinked back the ache behind her eyes and swallowed hard.
“You are no different than the Empress I was created to serve.” She said, her chest aching, and the wood beneath her fingers splintered as she stared at Fury. “You are too afraid to understand anything you might struggle with. You are cowards.”
There were so many heartbeats, they were thundering through the floor, but Raya kept herself steady as she took half a step back.
“They use my body as a beacon, for I am their rightful Empress. They will come to kill their creator, and I will bring forth a storm of their blood.” She said, her voice still strong, even as her anger sizzled into something more painful. “They will die by my hand, not because I am controlling them, but because it is what they deserve for their treason.”
A memory, blurred and discoloured, flashed through her mind; her, holding an adolescent Klevia in her arms, rocking back and forth while she whispered softly under her breath to ease the young one’s fears.
Raya squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the emotions that began to burn through her chest, and a resounding crack echoed through the room as the table under her hands snapped in two.
As the wood fell apart, she listened to it hit the floor, several deep thuds reverberating through her body, and then she opened her eyes, her voice steady.
“Perhaps, when I am a cold body laid before you, you will honour my service and my honesty.” She said, her voice softening, before she turned away from the two soldiers and Nick, ignoring the burning stares of those that surrounded her.
She glanced at Loki before she left, and as his eyes met hers, she saw something flash through them for half a second.
Was it anger? Disquiet? Worry?
As she crossed the threshold, the door sliding closed quietly behind her, Raya blinked, trying to swallow the lump in her throat.
The tear that rolled down her face sizzled, and instantly dissolved on her cheek.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 3/7 to Spain.
12:13am, May 11th, 2012.
Loki did not want to follow her.
He just did not want to stay in the room with the bickering mortals.
Raya was the lesser of two evils.
At least, that was what he told himself as he quickly turned and exited the room after her, barely noticed by the stupid mortals fumbling in fear around him.
He was not impressed by her outburst. He had not felt a flicker of kinship as gratitude danced through her eyes, sparkling with the crimson light of her anger.
Loki dug his nails into his skin as the thought flooded his mind again, refusing to linger on them at present.
It was more important to find Raya, and make sure she didn’t burn down the ship.
Drowning on Midgard was not the way he wanted to go.
The halls of the ship were strangely empty, but Loki didn’t care much about that. He simply kept his pace steady, not wanting to startle Raya if he happened upon her in some distant corner.
After all, if she could seek him out, then it was only fair he was allowed to interrupt whatever place of refuge she had chosen for herself.
The air gradually grew warmer as he continued forwards, and a stifled cry made him abruptly turn a corner, his eyes darting to every ajar door, every nook hidden from prying eyes.
His heart was racing as the soft sobs grew louder, and he swallowed the apprehension that rose in his chest; was this a mistake? What if his presence only angered her further? She had left that awfully crowded room for a reason.
Before he could doubt himself any further, however, he felt the weight of eyes on his back, and he turned to the room on his right, not missing a sob swallowed much too slowly.
Loki let out a shaky breath as he eased the door open further, and Raya was sitting on the floor, her arms curled around her legs, her knees pulled up to her chest, watching him cautiously.
Her fingers were picking at her gloves, and he could see her knee bouncing slightly as she rested her chin on top of it, but he did not speak, unsure what to do now that he was here.
He hesitated in the doorway, but Raya did not break the tense silence, so he stepped inside, his heart very loud in his ears.
When she did not scream at him to leave, or throw an object at his head, he carefully sat down a few feet from her, far enough away that he could run if he needed.
Close enough to comfort her.
Loki ignored the thought and took in a deep breath to steady his racing heart.
He tried not to react when he noticed Raya copy him, her exhale much shakier than his own.
“Something about him makes her relax.”
The words from Natasha made his chest constrict, and he blinked quickly to erase them from his head.
Whatever the Widow thought she saw, she was wrong. Natasha couldn’t be believed, especially not now, not after this idiotic turn of events.
Honestly, the mortals got easier and easier to dislike, because how could they possibly be so unforgivably stupid?
Not listening to Raya, the only source of their information, was one thing, but acting on their limited information? Sending soldiers to face an enemy he would hesitate to go up against?
It was another low, another level of foolishness, and he felt anger flare inside his chest as he laid out his legs before him, letting his head rest on the wall behind him.
Raya had not asked for this. She was not like him. Not to any capacity, not in any conceivable way.
Raya was a soldier, but she was not a villain.
Loki could feel the goddess’ eyes on him, and after a moment of hesitation, he turned to look at her, his palms falling to press flat against his thigh.
Her eyes were dark, unreasonably so. He did not know the last time he had made so much eye contact with someone; he usually avoided it all together, but there was something about her eyes…
The glimmer of tears on her lashes forced him to keep his mind from straying, and he watched as her finger tapped against her knee, a steady beat that was much calmer than when he’d walked in.
As his heart thudded evenly in his chest, he realised she was counting the beats.
“Your choice of hiding spots is less than admirable.” He said quietly, and he did not allow any kindness to flood his words, swallowing the warmth that blossomed in his chest at the hurt in her expression. “It was no difficult feat to find you.”
Raya looked back at him, her features twisting slightly, and Loki pushed away the fears that whispered poisonous thoughts into his mind, forcing himself to hold her gaze.
Triumph washed through him as she blinked first, and then her shoulders rolled noncommittally.
“I did not think anyone would come looking.”
Her tone was so sincere, so plain, as if that could only be the truth, and Loki didn’t like how it made him shift uncomfortably, didn’t like how words of comfort threatened to spill from his lips as he watched her brows furrow.
He absentmindedly dragged his fingers over his thigh, tapping the metal cuffs around his wrists irritably, and he saw Raya rubbing her own, her gloved fingertips gliding over the metal easily.
“Are you…” His voice trailed off as he looked away from her, the question feeling too vulnerable to ask while staring at her. “Are you alright?”
His tone was begrudging, but he couldn’t help the way his back straightened slightly in preparation for her answer.
Raya’s eyes were burning into him, and he had to take a steadying breath before he looked back at her, their gazes locking instantly.
Her eyes were like magnets, it was infuriating. Why was it so difficult to look away, while it felt as if she could read his thoughts right out of his head?
“I do not know how to answer that.” She said softly, and the startling contrasting from her yelling to a whisper made the panic in Loki’s chest ease. “There are many emotions. I do not know which one to start feeling first.”
Loki hummed in acknowledgement of her sentiment, dropping his eyes to his hands as his fingers intertwined, his thumb tapping against the metal of his cuffs.
“Do not bother choosing one.” He said as he turned his head towards the opposite wall, his eyes scanning over the tables pushed up against it. “They will all find a way to the surface eventually and will be unmanageable even before they make themselves known.”
He saw Raya nod out of the corner of his eye, and a strange sense of relief gnawed at him as her grip around her legs loosened slightly.
“I did not understand why they would not listen.” Raya said, and Loki looked back at her as her voice faltered slightly. “Now, it is clear. They think me some baseless liar.”
She scoffed softly under her breath, and Loki’s eyes followed her hand as she traced an arrow pattern over the fabric of her glove.
“I was not aware that mortals would engage in lying to such an extreme.” She continued, her fingers swirling over a slight crease, and Loki fought valiantly against the flicker of interest in his heart. “On Cirica, it is punishable by death, under the guise that it is an act of treason.”
Loki tapped his fingers against his thigh thoughtfully, his gaze floating back up to her face, but Raya was no longer looking at him.
Her hair was unruly, wisps of the brown strands resting against her slightly flushed cheeks as she unfolded her legs, crossing them before her instead, her eyes fixed on her handcuffs.
Loki swallowed hard to reorient himself, his brow furrowing at the unusual warmth that caused his chest to ache awfully.
“They are only mortal. They are prone to mistakes and stupidity, nothing more.” He said dismissively, his voice sharp enough that she glanced over at him. “Lying is of no consequence to some.”
Loki was not sure how he felt at how easily they had slipped into conversation. Why were his words coming so effortlessly? Why was he intrigued to hear more of her thoughts?
“Being mortal does not excuse what they have done.” Raya said quietly, and Loki huffed in agreement. “They are acting as if their word is what is right, and now their people are dead because they failed to ask me anything.”
Loki was tempted to say, “Good riddance”, and forget about mortal deaths. What did their meaningless existences matter to him? They were nothing but a speck of dust in his lifetime, a useless and aggravating addition to the cosmos.
However, at the look of distress edging onto Raya’s face, he did not voice his opinions.
“They have acted rashly, stupidly even.” He murmured, and as his eyes met hers once again, he forced himself to still his fidgeting fingers. “However, as good as it would feel to see this miserable vessel dissolved into ash, I do hope you find a more practical vent for your frustrations.”
Not quite a laugh.
Her breath was shaky as the puff of air left her lips, but Loki could not ignore the warm flush of pride that flooded his heart as a small smile slipped onto her lips.
Dimples.
“You needn’t worry. I do not wish to burn down this… ship.” Raya said softly, her voice dragging out over the last word as if she was unsure of it. “Their actions are just frustrating.”
Loki followed her gaze as it landed on her hands again, and in one smooth movement, she snapped the handcuffs around her wrists, examining the now loose metal with interest.
Loki blinked in shock, and Raya glanced over at him, shrugging yet again as a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
“They did not tell me to keep them on.” She said, her voice barely a whisper, and Loki did not miss the slight waver of uncertainty in her tone.
He looked at her for another long moment, before he felt his lips quirk up into a smile, somewhat surprised at her daring.
“They did not.” He assured her, though his voice threatened to fail him as the words of comfort passed through his lips. “However, if you could escape after all this time, why did you not?”
He knew the answer before he finished the question, and he disliked how heavily his heart weighed on him as Raya’s smile disappeared.
“There is nowhere to go but here.” She said quietly, her fingers now trailing over the destabiliser on her right hand. “And the humans are less frightened when I wear them. It is exhausting, feeling their fear every moment they are in my presence.”
Loki allowed silence to bleed into their conversation, simply watching as she studied the metal around her wrist, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the places it was melded together.
Her eyes were sparkling with intrigue, her lips set into a line as she concentrated, and Loki once again found his eyes straying to the scar on her lip, pale and faded against her olive skin.
What had happened? Why did it stay so prominent, when her other scars were so much smoother?
His fingertips burned, a whisper of something terrible making him dig his nails into his palm to stop himself reaching out.
“It is a pathetic prison.” He said under his breath, trying to divert his mind from his wandering thoughts. “And quite a miserable place to be resigned to.”
Raya’s hand slipped from the destabiliser, her fingers dancing over her thigh as she pressed herself against the wall, her head tipping back to look towards the ceiling.
Loki’s eyes followed her movements, his mind protesting, but he was too selfish to deny himself.
“It is more comfortable than anything I have ever known.” Raya’s voice was soft, and in his attempts to quell his dizzying thoughts, he almost missed the sadness that laced the words. “It is… confusing, to be taken care of.”
She was quiet for a few moments, her fist tapping against her knee, and Loki shifted, straightening his spine as he felt an ache beginning to grow in his back, but he did not dare to move.
“It’s like she doesn’t care what she does for him.”
Perhaps there had been… some validity in the Widow’s assessment. Raya was talking, calmly, clearly, truthfully, to him of all people, with no ounce of fear or panic clear in her features. There were no taunts, no jibes, no lies.
Loki could not stop the awful fluttering of his heart as his mind traitorously ran through everything she had ever said to him.
Everything she said, every compliment, every word that had left his mind spinning with confusion, she had needed to believe them, or she wouldn’t have been able to speak them at all.
Every warm feeling she’d given him over the past few days rushed back, and words danced on the tip of his tongue, flying from his lips before he could stop them, before he could breathe out hatred and poison them with irritation.
“Perhaps you deserve it.”
Raya’s eyes slowly turned to meet his, and though his heart raced with a sudden wave of panic, though his mouth went dry with fear, Loki did not flinch away from her softened gaze.
“To be taken care of, I mean.” He said, pressing his cuffed hands into his thigh as he fought to keep his eyes on hers, to keep his face blank. “After all, we appear to be trapped in this hulking abomination for the foreseeable future. Surely, they cannot deny you rest.”
Raya continued to look at him, her eyes flitting over his features, almost as if she were searching for the dishonesty hidden in them, and Loki remained strong, even as he felt his hands tremble slightly.
“I cannot allow myself to rest.” She said quietly as she turned her body to face him, and Loki leaned back automatically as she shifted towards him. “Complacency will take root, and determination will be lost. I will not become weak in the face of their strange comforts.”
Her eyes drifted down to his hands, bound in steel, and he felt his heart wrench in his chest; would she think he was threatening her of all things?
However, her expression became thoughtful, and her gloved fingers uncurled from their fist, reaching slowly out towards his handcuffs.
Instinctively, he jerked away from her, and Raya glanced up at him, a flash of unease in her eyes.
“I did not ask.” She said simply, as if she were chiding herself, and Loki looked back at her, his confusion edged with panic at her calmness. “Natasha… she told me you are to be my teacher in controlling magic. Is that true?”
Loki rested his hands on his leg once again as he let out a shaky breath, his eyes still fixed on her gloved hands, which were hovering in the air, as if she was waiting for a reason to use them.
For a moment, Loki contemplated her abrupt segue into this topic, but as her hands drifted closer to his, he breathed in deeply to clear his mind, and nodded.
“Yes, it is.” He said, pulling his eyes from her hands and back up to her face. “I can only hope that you will be more adept at magical containment than at controlling your physical strength.”
A flash of remorse in those dark eyes, and he ached to take back the words, but then her expression fell blank once again, wiped clean of all emotion, and he forced down the rush of regret that clawed at him.
“I assure you that I am no novice to magic.” Raya murmured, her voice light, and Loki let a soft breath of relief pass through his lips. “We could begin now, if it would please you.”
It was aggravatingly hard to breathe in this stupid room.
“Did you have something in mind?” He said, forcing himself to dull the curiosity in his voice. “Valhalla forbid, the Avenger’s star is forced to follow a lesson plan.”
Raya blinked at him, and he could see her running the words through her brain, trying to process them, but after a moment, she simply nodded.
“It is easy to concentrate my energy into an object.” She said, and he caught the unease that edged her words as her fingers flexed, her eyes falling to his wrists. “I could free your hands, while ensuring your skin remains unharmed.”
Loki’s mouth was exceedingly dry. Perhaps he should take water when it was offered more often.
“That would be… interesting.” He said, swallowing hard as he heard his voice crack slightly. “However, I assumed Stark or Romanoff would have free you from these contraptions.”
He lifted his arm, the destabiliser on his arm shimmering in the light, and Raya’s eyes tracked the movement instantly.
In one swift movement, Raya’s wrist slammed into the floor beneath them, a hiss of pain escaping her lips as the bone crunched slightly, and Loki flinched at the quick action, his heart racing in his chest.
The floor had dipped slightly under the harsh blow, and the ringing of metal echoed through the room, but Raya’s expression remained calm as she watched the destabiliser shatter.
“There will be no need.” She said unnecessarily, and Loki swallowed the taunt that rose in his throat, his mind whirring from the sudden reminder of her strength.
Between the broken table left at the feet of the Avengers, and the almost casual manner that she had completely crushed the destabiliser, Loki’s apprehension returned, but at the sight of her waiting hands, he forced his fears aside.
He could only hope that if she really wanted him dead, she would’ve done it already.
“There is a slight chance this may sting.” Raya said as she leaned slightly closer, and Loki straightened his back against the wall as he held out his hands towards her.
“Consider me reassured.” He said sarcastically, but as a wave of nerves rushed through him, it was all he could do to keep his breathing even.
Her eyebrow quirked as his heartbeat increased, but she didn’t speak, and Loki did not want to think about it any further.
Her gloved fingers curled around the chain between the cuffs, and Loki swallowed very hard, averting his eyes from her as she bent her head towards his upturned palms.
She was so close. The warmth that encircled her constantly was slipping into his every breath, and against his own will, he felt his muscles relax as a gentle tingling began against his wrists.
How was it that she still smelt of blood? There was something else there; some horrible flowery scent, no doubt shampoo left by Stark, mingling with the metallic burn, and Loki felt nauseous.
Raya let out a quiet gasp, and Loki glanced down to see her gritting her teeth against the shocks going up her arm, the chain between his hands melting as her eyes narrowed in concentration.
She had shifted closer, kneeling next to him as she held the metal between her hands, and Loki realised his head was almost level with hers.
When was the last time anyone had been this close to him? He could not remember having anyone close to him, except maybe his brother, but that was only out of necessity.
Being close to Thor did not feel like this.
He kept his fingers completely still, not daring to let them drift towards her gloves, and he looked down, watching as red light ebbed around his wrists, strangely comforting as it encircled his hands.
As the destabiliser sent shocks up her left arm, Raya merely twisted her head to the side, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment, and then the metal began to dissolve completely.
It was too quiet, but Loki couldn’t find any words to fill the uncomfortably soothing silence, and as Raya’s eyes lifted to meet his, a flush of warmth raced up the back of his neck.
It’s just the spell.
She was staring at him, like she was waiting for something, and Loki blinked to try and retain his train of thought, but she was still too close.
“I suppose that was fine.” He said quickly, and he saw Raya tilt her head questioningly as his voice wavered. “Perhaps there is hope for you after all.”
He forced his expression to remain harsh, furrowing his brows and forcing his mouth to turn down in a frown, and he hurriedly pulled his hands away from hers, the waves of fear that had been assaulting him leaving him quite lightheaded.
She was smiling again.
There they were, again, stupid and prominent, just like her sharp canines jutting out to rest against her bottom lip ever so slightly.
Dimples.
“I hope your teachings will increase my rudimentary skills.” She said quietly, as she leaned away from him, moving back to her spot against the wall, separating them again.
It took him a moment for his panicked mind to process her words, but when they clicked into place, he could only stare at her in surprise.
She was… joking.
Loki rubbed his wrists, now free from his restraints, and as he turned his gaze to the ceiling, his body feeling strangely light, he realised he was smiling.
He forced his face to resume its normal state, wiping away any remnants of the emotion, but he could feel the way Raya’s eyes lingered on his face before they lapsed into silence once again.
The warmth in his chest, strangely, did not fade away, and even more shocking, Loki found he did not want it to.
Chapter 14: Just Hit Me With The Truth
Summary:
baby, hi, hi, hi! I'm back after being choke slammed by assessments and work, finally updating this (every month, at least one chapter, HOLD ME ACCOUNTABLE FOR MY PROMISE!!!). anyway, not a whole lot to say here, I'm just so, so tired and there was so much plot here (smh how dare I).
As always, take care of yourselves, and I thank you all for your kudos, your bookmarks and your comments on this, it truly makes my day <3
translations for the latin in the first scene will be at the bottom of this, its so rough bc I'm using a translator, feel free to correct me if there is something wrong!
chapter title from Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC (guess who watched deadpool and wolverine)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
2:33am, May 12th, 2012.
The darkness was unbearable.
It ate away at him, poked and prodded and slashed at his body as he trembled on the floor, and Loki could not make a sound as waves of pain tore through him viciously.
The cold was harsh.
Biting, searing coolness, leaving his lungs frozen in his chest, his heart going solid, fighting for each stuttered beat.
Then, the warmth.
It was not burning. Loki was blind, but the warmth swept through him easily, curled around him like a blanket, coated his weary, bleeding arms with something like comfort.
The warmth was like a promise.
A whisper that, perhaps, the lonesome solitude of self-hatred was not a burden he shouldered alone.
However, as his shackles of ice melted to the floor, the water turned to blood, and his hands were no longer empty.
They were raised before him, tight around an enemy’s throat, and then he had thrown them to the ground, watching as blood sprouted from their lips, deep crimson like the petals of a rose.
His hands were blunt tools, weapons controlled by his muddled mind, and though tears slid down his cheeks, he did not know why grief seized his aching heart.
Their flesh was so soft under his hands, breaking, bruising, and he could not scream, but their shrieks of anguish filled his mind like an echoing symphony.
This was how he thrived, he thought as their blood painted his face.
This was who he was, he knew it.
A murderer, a killer, a villain, capable of striking fear into his enemies’ hearts, and casting doubt into their minds.
He was powerful, he knew it as their bones splintered beneath his hands.
He was meant to rule, and he would, if only their hands would stop scraping at his arms, their gloves stark against his blood smeared flesh-
Gloves?
Loki blinked, and Raya’s dark eyes were wide as she stared back at him, the blood vessels in her eyeballs clear as his hands squeezed tighter and tighter around her protesting throat.
He could not stop it, even as panic consumed his heart, as something clawed at his mind, valiantly fighting to be considered.
Under his shaking hands, Raya’s neck snapped.
*
Loki woke, half a scream torn from his throat before he covered his mouth with his shaking hands, breathing heavily as his body was wracked with sobs.
What had he done?
His mind was so fuzzy, and his hands were blurred in front of him, bloodied, bruised, tainted-
He blinked, and it was only tears that dripped onto his open palms, not blood.
Loki cast his gaze around, his body a mess of tremors as he forced himself upright, the walls of his cell far too close, and he pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to erase the nightmare from his mind, but it would not go.
Flashes of it came back to him, sharp and horrible; a searing pain, a gaping mouth, awful, pained cries.
Raya’s lifeless eyes.
Loki’s breath caught in his chest as dread crashed through him, and guilt came like a harsh blow, striking him across the face and sending a stinging sense of panic through his body.
He could not have killed her. He would have remembered.
He would have known.
Loki’s mind hurriedly flicked through all his memoires, passing those unreachable by his own person, hidden in shadow, and his nails cut into his scalp as he clutched desperately at his head.
He could not know for sure, could he? His own mind was at war with itself, still fighting the intrusion from Him; it did not belong to him, not anymore, no matter how hard he fought, or how much he achieved.
He could not trust himself at all.
Loki was shaking as his eyes lifted to the opposite wall, and his heart pounded in his ears as a thought struck him; he could not have killed her. He was trapped here.
However, even as his destabilizer beeped, Loki could not find any comfort in his racing thoughts.
Raya would have fought him off. She would have won, as she had won against him so many times before.
He could not have killed her. She would not have let him, she wouldn’t, she couldn’t…
Loki’s eyes were burning with tears, and he was gasping as the room around him remained silent, his horror burning fiercely in his chest as he sat himself up, his legs shaking as he pressed his hand to his chest.
She could not be dead; he would not have killed her. He did not want to kill her.
“Why would I want to kill you?”
Loki was halfway across his cell before he had even realised he’d moved, his knees scraping against the floor as he crawled towards the opposite wall.
He was a weak mess, a pathetic, weeping disgrace, but he did not stop until his palms rested against the wall, his breathing harsh and grating as he pressed his forehead to the metal.
His heart was too loud, his barely restrained cries escaping his lips with each moment that passed in silence, and he could not help it, could not stop the soft whisper that was ripped from his parted lips.
“Raya…”
Silence.
Loki’s hands trembled against the wall as tears choked him, each gasp of air that he forced through his lungs seeming to cut right through him, and he didn’t understand the horrific sense of dread that carved itself into his heart.
He had killed her.
She had freed him, and he had returned her favour by killing her.
He truly was a monster.
“Loki.”
Loki was not truly sure if he had ever felt such an all-encompassing, overpowering sense of relief before, but as Raya’s voice answered his broken cry in a gentle tone, he felt himself fall apart.
His fingers curled into fists as his shuddering breaths turned into sharp gasps, his head aching as tears burned into his skin, and he could not contain the trembling that assaulted his tensed body.
“Your heartbeat is too fast.” Raya’s voice murmured, and he laughed, the sound coming out watery and hysterical. “Are… you alright?”
The question sounded so strange on her lips, and he latched onto the memory of asking her the very same one just the day before; finally, a tangible recollection.
“I…” He couldn’t speak, his mouth wouldn’t respond to his mind, and every time he parted his lips, all that escaped was a shaky breath.
He could hear her breathing, could almost feel the warmth of her presence through the wall, and he instinctively recoiled from the sensation, bile creeping up his throat as the memory of his nightmare gnawed at him.
“They came to the surface.” She was saying, and Loki weakly hit the wall with trembling hands as he sunk on his knees. “The uncontrollable feelings.”
Her words were a statement, not a question, but an awful sense of elation twisted his heart at her quiet understanding, and he found himself nodding, though he knew she could not see him.
His mind was so dizzyingly confusing, memories and nightmares intertwining to create uncertain realities, and he gritted his teeth to try and force his tears to stop falling, but it was to no avail.
They continued to roll down his cheeks, and words fell unceremoniously from his lips.
“They did.”
His voice was shaking, he was so weak, so powerless, an embarrassment, a broken relic, a supposed prince, born for nothing-
“That is… okay.” Raya’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as if they were sharing a secret, and Loki leaned closer to the wall as his chest heaved painfully, clinging to any distraction she could offer him. “No one will know.”
Loki sucked in a sharp breath, steadying his trembling hands against the cool metal as her voice washed over him, and he hated the way he wanted to ask her to keep talking, to know she was there, that his mind wasn’t playing another sick trick on him, but he wouldn’t let himself say it.
It had been a nightmare. Raya was still alive, still here, still breathing.
Loki did not know why that revelation made guilt churn his uneasy stomach, but he could not question it.
He didn’t want to think anymore.
“Requiesce securus, quia custoditur anima tua.” Raya whispered through the wall, her voice lowered as if in prayer, and Loki blinked back tears as he tried to process her words. “Mala vota non cedet tibi.”
Loki’s breathing slowly began to even out as he listened to her murmurings, not understanding any of them, but ashamedly glad for them.
He kept his hands against the wall, his body leaning towards the warmth that emanated from the other side of its own accord, and he heard a sigh slip from Raya’s lips as his heart began to calm itself.
Tears dried slowly on his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to stop his head from spinning, and he forced himself to stay upright even as his knees ached under him.
He was here, kneeling like some mewling mortal, tear tracks tainting his skin, ragged breaths dragging through his lungs. How disgusting must Raya find his pathetic behaviour? How repulsed could she be by his idiotic fears, his stupid dreams?
Loki was glad that she could not see him as he was.
His pride was already shattered, his ego bruised by the need for comfort.
She would not pity him, could only revile his actions, and that was his only relief.
A sudden shuffling from the other side of the wall made him flinch, but as it ceased, he realised Raya’s breathing was much closer now.
She was leaning against the wall, he could feel her presence, and as his head slowly cleared, a soft tune floated into his mind, words he did not understand flowing into his ears, honeyed and gentle.
“Diis reliqua relinque: cum ventis cessaverint.” Raya’s voice was soft as she sung under her breath, and Loki furrowed his brows in confusion; was she singing to him? Or had she decided to begin of her own accord?
There was a slight pause, as if she was contemplating continuing, and Loki did not break the silence, his breathing slowly evening out as he unfurled his legs from beneath him.
His lack of protest seemed to spur her on, and her voice, lilting up into a sweet melody, made his eyelids flutter in exhaustion.
What had she done to him?
“Longe certamina per aequora rabiosa; neque cupressos videbis.”
He tried to hate the way his body relaxed as warmth flooded him, tried to hate the way his hands fell to his legs, the trembling in them easing as a heavy sense of comfort swept through him.
It took him a moment, but as he caught a slight hitch in Raya’s breath as her destabiliser beeped harshly, he realised she was using her magic to calm him.
Why?
“Nec cineres veternosus commovere poterit.” Raya’s tone was unforgivably soft as she sang, her words clearly well practised, falling easily from her lips, as if she barely had to think about them at all.
Loki was powerless to the gentle whispers, and a small, forever aching crack in his heart seemed to seal over as his awful tears faded into his skin.
The wind outside his cell was harsh and biting, but as Loki’s thoughts were stolen by exhaustion, as his eyes fell shut against his will, his body instinctually pressed itself towards the warmth bleeding through the wall.
Towards the warmth that felt like a promise.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
8:58am, May 12th, 2012.
It had been a great deal of time since Thor had been this enraged.
He could only remember the feeling, not why it occurred, or how he had cured the anger; with his youthful ignorance, it had most likely been by throwing some poor soul through a tavern roof.
How he longed to do just that now.
He was not moving. His anger was far too intense for that.
Mjolnir rested at his side, but even the familiar comfort of its handle could not quell the searing burn in his chest.
Tony was also silent. Sitting at the oval table before him, eyes fixed on the table, his brows furrowed with irritation.
For once, his hands were still, and as much as the sight filled Thor with an unprecedented amount of dread, he was grateful to be in the company of equal minded allies.
He did not think he could handle this alone; he barely trusted himself to breathe at the moment.
The door slid open, the seal hissing softly, and he looked up, watching as Natasha and Steve walked into the room.
Both were avoiding eye contact, their hands held stiffly at their sides as they moved to the head of the table, taking their places at either side silently.
Behind them, were Clint and Bruce, the latter of whom moved to Thor’s right side, readjusting his glasses before leaning forwards onto the glass tabletop, his body rigid.
Clint paused at the head of the table, his eyes straying over to Natasha, but when she looked up at him, he immediately turned away, taking a seat next to Tony instead.
Thor forced away any sympathy he felt as he caught sight the tears that glittered in Natasha’s eyes.
They sat in silence, seconds turning to minutes as they all stared at the table or the walls, and Thor was in no rush to break the tension in the air.
There was no need for their interruption. He knew both Steve and Natasha has apologies on their lips, knew they were both collating the best way to deliver their excuses, and he didn’t want to rush their suffering.
Nick Fury was the one his anger was truly directed at, yes, but they had no doubt aided him in his foolish endeavour.
They were to blame, just as the Director was.
“I didn’t know until I stepped into that room.” Natasha said, her voice quiet, and Thor looked up at her instantly, his eyes narrowing. “He only told me what was necessary.”
In front of him, Tony let out a harsh bark of laughter, and Thor once again felt glad his feelings were so easily shared among his teammates.
“That’s bullshit, and we all know it.” Tony said, and even though Thor noticed how his voice wavered slightly as Natasha’s red rimmed eyes turned to him, he powered through. “You didn’t want Raya going to see Fury the day beforehand either. You knew what he was planning, and you didn’t think to tell any of us.”
“We didn’t have a choice, Tony-” Steve started, but then Tony was on his feet, his hand slamming down on the table.
“You always have a choice! You didn’t stop Fury, and you didn’t bother to warn us that he was going after the Kleviah!” Tony yelled angrily, and the two soldiers bristled at his sharp tone. “All your talk about having to listen to the one person who knows what’s going on, and you went ahead and did something stupid anyway!”
“He doesn’t believe Raya will tell us the truth, and we did try to ward him off, but he wouldn’t listen-” Natasha said, and Thor glanced over at Tony, watching the man’s chest puff out in rage.
“He put innocent people in danger!” Tony spat, and even Thor was surprised at the amount of poison behind the words. “He put them into helicopters, after we established these creatures would attack aircraft! He attacked them with explosives!”
Natasha and Steve remained silent under Tony’s onslaught, and Thor watched them both carefully, straightening his shoulders as he folded his hands before him.
Their expressions were guilty, but rather than enraged, they only seemed distraught; Steve’s jaw was tight, and Natasha’s hand was clenched into a fist on the table, her eyes pointedly fixed on the glass before her.
“After what you’ve done, the chances that this woman will ever trust us again is next to nothing.” Tony said angrily, and Thor levelled his gaze at Natasha as she turned to look at him, watching the tears build in her eyes. “Raya is scared, and she’s been nothing but willing to help this entire time. Now, the only person she has any respect left for on this bloody ship is Loki.”
Thor tried to ignore childish flash of defensiveness that flickered to life in his chest at the way Tony said his brother’s name, instead refocusing his attention on the Captain, who had his head bowed in shame.
“You could’ve cost us our only chance at figuring any of this out, and for what? You didn’t even kill them!” Tony’s rage seemed only to be growing, and slowly, Thor sat forwards in his chair, glancing up at him.
“Stark.” He said coolly, and Tony looked at him, the anger in his features draining away to be replaced with the barest trace of exhaustion. “Thank you for voicing our concerns so eloquently, but I feel as if we need to give them a chance to speak for themselves.”
Tony stiffened for a moment, his lips parted as if in protest, but Thor simply raised an eyebrow, and he slowly returned to his seat, his hands now trembling on the table.
Thor turned to Steve and Natasha, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes narrowed, taking in a steadying breath to keep his temper at bay.
“I wanted to talk to her.” Natasha said, and Thor caught the slight tremor in her words, but before he could truly process it, it had gone. “But Fury, he didn’t want to believe me when I said it was the best idea. He doesn’t trust her, especially not since he’s seen how she reacts to Loki.”
Thor’s eyes shifted to Steve, and the soldier straightened up, his gaze flicking up to meet his as he began to speak.
“We tried to dissuade him, but he just wouldn’t listen. He’s convinced that Raya is working with Loki in some way.” Steve said quickly, and Thor let out an agitated sigh. “He’s only seemed to change his mind now that she’s admitted she can’t lie.”
“Even that wasn’t enough for him.” Natasha continued, and Thor watched her lean forwards, steadying the tremble in her fingertips with her hand. “But he’s our superior, and we couldn’t stop what he did.”
“Fury isn’t a superior anymore, not in this situation.” Clint said quietly, lifting his head to look at the two. “Raya is the only one who understands what’s going on here.”
Natasha flinched away from Clint’s words, her hand curling into a fist, and Steve simply stared at him, his gaze lowered.
“She might not take commands from you anymore, Natasha.” Clint continued, and Thor felt a twinge of sympathy for the clear strain in his tone. “All this has given her is more reason not to trust us, and to put her faith in other people we can’t trust.”
Thor hummed in acknowledgement, his mind whirring as he processed the information, and as he looked over at Tony, he saw the man’s jaw set in worry.
“You’ve been so scared of upsetting her, of her getting close to the wrong people, that all you’ve done is drive her right where we don’t want her to be.” Tony said, his tone simmering with anger. “Whether you and Fury like it or not, they have a relationship, and its only going to get more dangerous the longer we isolate her from us.”
Thor silently surveyed Natasha and Steve, considering Tony’s words, his brows pulling together as he recalled what the man had told him earlier.
“Her heart rate increased when she saw him. I don’t think she knows it; I don’t think either of them do, and I don’t know why, but she values him.”
“We should have made it known.” Steve said, his voice laced with regret, but Thor quickly shook his head.
“We don’t need your apology.” He said calmly, ignoring Tony’s derisive huff. “Raya does. You have given her blameless guilt and have treated her good word unfairly.”
They both nodded, and Tony sighed, sliding his finger across the desk, a screen lighting up before him.
“We are supposed to be a team.” Thor continued, now allowing his eyes to move around the group, a sense of relief washing through him. “We make decisions together, not with outside parties weighing in with their every grievance.”
Bruce grunted in acknowledgement, but Clint remained silent, his gaze trained on the table before him, and Thor glanced at Natasha, who’s eyes were gleaming with unshed tears, sympathy flickering through his heart.
“However, we cannot continually avoid the discussions of our own wrongdoing, and once those at fault have been held accountable, they will be cleared of any issues they may have caused.” Thor said, his voice still strong, and he forced down the small smile that tugged at his lips as Natasha looked at him in shock. “As I said, we are a team. Grudges will only serve to weaken us, and we cannot have that to any capacity, especially not now.”
The group around him was quiet, but he could see the understanding on their faces, watched as they digested his words, and after a few moments of contemplative silence, Tony spoke, his tone still strained, but much calmer.
“If we want to do this the right way, finally, I found them on the cameras.”
The screen before them flickered, and Tony sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he surveyed the screen flickering before him.
Thor’s eyes flicked up to the small caption that read ‘Hallway 3’ in the top corner before his attention was stolen by Raya, who was sitting cross legged on the floor, her hand raised before her as her eyes glowed a deep crimson.
Loki was sitting across from her, his palm extended similarly, and as Raya’s index finger began to turn red, the pulsing light still visible beneath her gloves, Thor noticed his brother’s lips twitch upwards.
Strange.
As much as he advocated for Raya’s ability to be civil, Loki’s previous outburst had made it very clear that, at most, Raya only confused and frustrated him.
Seeing him now, almost smiling as her eyes shone with wonder for half a second, just before the heat building in her finger was dissipated by the shocks shooting up her arm, was almost alarming.
Perhaps he had written off his brother too soon.
“Is he… teaching her magic?” Steve said quietly, his eyes narrowed slightly at the video before them, and Thor looked back to see Loki extending his hands, clearly explaining something to the enraptured goddess before him.
“It appears so.” Thor murmured, intrigue crossing with confusion in his mind, but as Natasha cleared her throat, he looked away from the screen and over to her.
“He didn’t seem too happy about it when we told him he had to.” She said, and Thor hummed in agreement, his brows furrowing as he glanced back up at the screen. “Maybe we got through to him?”
Her voice was not hopeful, and Clint’s sharp laugh echoed Thor’s own sentiments.
“The more likely option is that she did.” Clint said, gesturing to the screen just as Raya’s face scrunched up in concentration, flexing her fingers just as Loki did. “Look at her. She’s listening to him.”
“I’m sure he thinks that’s fantastic.” Bruce mumbled, his tone irritable, and Thor set his jaw to keep himself quiet.
“She doesn’t have to be with him, Banner, she’s made this choice herself.” Tony said under his breath, his eyes trained on the video above them. “She’s had a million opportunities to kill him; if she wanted to, it’d be done by now.”
Silence fell across the team, and Thor followed Loki’s movements on the screen with his eyes, the strangest knot of dread and hope tying itself up in his chest.
He had once known Loki. He had once known who he was, and even though they had both faced irrevocable change, both fought in different battles, different wars, he knew one thing about his brother had never changed.
Loki never did something he did not want to do. He never went out of way to fulfil the wishes of someone he didn’t care for, not if he had the choice to evade it.
As he stared up at Loki’s face, watching the barest hint of pride shine in his eyes as Raya’s finger flickered into a bright, controlled flame, he knew Loki had wanted to do this.
For better or for worse, Loki was helping Raya of his own accord.
“If we get her, he has to come too.” Natasha said, but Tony was already nodding, his gaze now lowered back to his computer as he typed furiously.
“Yes, Frozone and Fireball are a package deal now, we know.” He muttered, and Thor shook his head slightly, a smile creeping onto his lips. “Which poor unfortunate soul are we sending to get them?”
It was truly shocking how good Tony was at upholding grudges, and his ability to balance petty derision with a completely neutral expression never failed to amaze him.
He had certainly not mastered anything of the sort.
“None of us.” Clint said, and Thor raised an eyebrow towards him in question. “Chances are low he’ll consider coming if its one of us, and I doubt Raya wants to hear from those two.”
He tilted his head towards Natasha and Steve, and Thor nodded slightly, looking up the table.
“It needs to be someone they know, at the very least.” Thor said, folding his hands before him as he considered their options. “Perhaps a mortal to which they hold no outright ill will?”
Natasha sat up straighter, her eyes going wide as she pulled out her phone, and her eyes locked on his, her expression vague.
“I’ve got someone.” She said simply, rising from her seat and turning towards the door. “Hopefully, she’ll live.”
Thor watched her walk out, hearing the first polite lines of a conversation before the door shut behind her, and he shrugged, silently sending out a prayer for the singled-out person.
They were going to need it.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
9:35am, May 12th, 2012.
Sunnie did not want to do this.
It didn’t really matter what she wanted, not when her favourite Avenger had asked her for a favour, but at least to herself, she wanted to be clear that she did not want to do this.
Meeting the goddess of chaos was fine when she was surrounded by Natasha Romanoff and Thor, God of Thunder, but now, she was going in alone, and collecting the would-be dictator as well.
A degree in graphic design and aerospace engineering had not prepared her for anything like this.
It was difficult for her to collate her thoughts as she carefully walked down the steps, taking care as to not twinge her knee. Ever since she’d talked to Raya, it had been strangely painless, and she wasn’t quite sure how to comprehend the loss of the accustomed ache.
“They’re in Hallway Three. Please bring them to the conference room for questioning. Tell them the Avengers would like to speak to them.”
Natasha’s words reverberated through her head as she clutched her clipboard to her chest, tapping her pen nervously against her paper as she glanced down at her drawings.
The small sketch of Raya hadn’t taken her much time; really, while she’d been studying her fight patterns, it had been almost too easy to use her form as a reference. The scars across her face were proving difficult to place however, as they somehow seemed to shift to different places on her skin each time she turned to face a camera.
Loki’s features had proven almost too easy to outline, as her mind had been focused on little else for the past few weeks. When his face was reflected on every surface equipped with a screen 24 hours a day, it was hard to allow the idea to fall from her mind.
Sunnie jumped when her shoulder connected with the corner of a wall, looking up in shock; she’d almost missed her turn, so enraptured she’d been with evaluating her own artistry.
She could hear voices a little way up from her, and her heart leapt into her throat as she began to walk slowly toward them, nervously clutching her clipboard to her chest.
She’d been given an electronic remote for their destabilizers, but that didn’t automatically mean they would listen to her every word, and she shuddered to imagine the look of distain on their faces when she tried to pitifully order them around.
They were gods, for heavens sake. She had no power over either of them, and she wasn’t stupid enough to believe she might be able to overpower them if they really wanted her dead.
Especially Raya. She’d seen the footage of her attack on the HYDRA agent they had picked up only yesterday afternoon, and just the mere memory of it was enough to get her stomach churning once again.
Was there no one more qualified for this?
“That wasn’t awful.”
As Loki’s voice became clearer as she rounded a corner, she saw bright red sparks flickering against the walls, and she froze, pressing herself against the wall to hide.
She wasn’t sure why, considering she’d have to retrieve them at some point, and she knew most of the Avengers would be tracking her every movement, but fear still swept through her at the sudden realization of how close she was.
“I am not used to containing anything.” Raya’s tone was flat, serious, and Sunnie peeked her head out just in time to see Loki roll his eyes as he leant back against the wall.
“Well, get better.”
Raya didn’t answer his sharp reply, only lifting her right arm once again, her left shaking with the shocks shooting through her nerves.
Red light built in her fingertips, but then her shoulders went rigid, and her head snapped over to Sunnie’s hiding place, her eyes locking on hers immediately.
Not expecting to be found so easily, Sunnie made a surprised noise, grasping her clipboard so tightly that she was sure it would snap, and stumbled out into the hallway’s opening.
Loki stared up at her, his expression bored, and he only sighed in exasperation before looking over at Raya, his eyebrow raised in question.
“Sunnie.” Raya said, a statement rather than a question, but Sunnie nodded hurriedly anyway.
“Hi. I’ve been sent to retrieve you for- well, the Avengers. They would like to talk to you.” She said quickly, feeling her strength crumbling away under Raya’s hardened gaze. “Both of you.”
She gestured towards Loki, and Raya glanced at him before she nodded curtly, swiftly untangling her legs from under her and getting to her feet.
She did everything with such grace, it was very disconcerting, and Sunnie couldn’t help but feel jealous. How would it feel it be able to do things without constant aches?
“Your heart is erratic.” Raya said, and Sunnie started at being addressed once again, her breath catching at the way the goddess surveyed her. “Stop. You do not give orders with fear.”
Sunnie blinked, her throat dry as Raya straightened up to her full height, towering over her, and she simply nodded, her panic in no way abating.
Raya tilted her head as if confused, then gestured towards Loki.
“Watch.” She said calmly, her expression blank, then her words turned on Loki, sharpening with her demand. “Get up. Now.”
Loki looked at Raya for a long moment, and Sunnie’s gaze nervously flicked between them, holding her breath as the air became laden with apprehension, but the god only let out a long-suffering sigh as he pushed himself off the wall.
“If you’re quite done admonishing inferiority…” Loki drawled as he stepped up to Raya’s side, still out of arms reach, his eyes lowering disdainfully towards Sunnie.
“Be silent.” Raya’s voice was cold, and Loki fell quiet instantly, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. “Take us to where we are needed.”
Sunnie nodded quickly as the goddess’ attention returned to her, and she took a few steps away from both of them, her voice still shaking as she mumbled,
“Right. Follow me.”
Sunnie turned on her heel, glancing over her shoulder to see Raya jerking her head in her direction, and Loki begrudgingly trailing along behind her.
For some reason, the sight of them acting so… human, for lack of a better term, had her fighting a smile.
Despite what she had heard from agents around the ship, and the Avengers themselves, neither of them seemed overtly hostile, and definitely not towards each other.
Strange, how the perceptions of others tended to complicate the truth.
“Is that me?”
Raya’s voice rang out next to her ear, and she flinched away from her, pressing her clipboard to her chest as she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
“I- it was just a sketch, for the researchers.” She lied quickly, but as she looked over at Raya’s face, the goddess’ expression was wholly unconvinced.
“The mortals have descended to drawing crude caricatures of us.” Loki said, his voice almost disgusted. “How wonderful.”
Raya stayed at her side, reaching her gloved hand out towards the paper, and Sunnie let out a shaky breath as she handed over the drawings, her hand trembling slightly as she rubbed her shoulder nervously.
“I have never seen art like this.” Raya said, her brows furrowing as she studied the picture, and Sunnie wasn’t sure if she imagined the interest in her tone. “It is not bad.”
A shocked laugh slipped from Sunnie’s lips as she watched Raya trace her finger above the drawing of herself, as if she were afraid of ruining it.
“Thank you?” She said, a smile on her lips, but her stomach dropped as she heard Loki scoff behind her.
“Yes, quite impressive for a mortal. It is shocking that you were able to pick up a pencil at all.” He murmured harshly, and Sunnie shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to escape his disapproving gaze.
She didn’t even see Raya move, but the sound of Loki’s body being slammed into the opposite wall made her wince in sympathy.
Raya was glaring at Loki, a look he returned all too easily, and a grunt of pain escaping him as he straightened up, rubbing his shoulder.
“Irritating.” Raya muttered as she returned to Sunnie’s side, still holding the clipboard tightly in her fist. “Your disrespect is intolerable.”
“As opposed to your steadfast complacency?” Loki shot back, and a wave of heat washed over Sunnie as Raya’s eyes shimmered red, her heart racing as her mind screamed for her to run from the situation immediately.
“Be silent.” Raya’s tone was searing as she stepped between her and Loki, her hand clenching into a fist. “Or I will tear out your tongue.”
Loki rolled his eyes yet again, and huffed out an irritated sigh, but he did not speak, and Raya simply returned her eyes to the clipboard, squinting down at the small words written across the paper.
Sunnie continued to lead them towards the conference room, feeling extraordinarily out of place between the two heavenly bodies, her hands fidgeting with her sleeves awkwardly as she tried to collect her thoughts.
“You give us so much colour.” Raya said quietly, and Sunnie glanced over to see her examining the back of the paper, holding up the drawing to the light. “Not awful.”
Sunnie laughed softly, her heart hammering as she met the goddess’ eyes, holding up her hand to take the clipboard back.
Raya moved immediately, pushing the papers into her palm as if she had been ordered, but Sunnie brushed away the unease she felt as she saw the momentarily empty look in her eyes.
“You both have… well, distinctive colours.” Sunnie said quickly, her nerves only increasing as she saw Loki look over at her out of the corner of her eye. “You’re also very easy to draw; your features are quite unique.”
Raya blinked, almost in surprise, and tilted her head as if she were comprehending her words, then nodded, her eyes widening slightly.
“I am smiling.” She said flatly, pointing in the general direction of the drawing as she took a carefully measured step away from her. “It looks… unusual.”
Sunnie bit back at a smile at the genuinely contemplative expression on the goddess’ face, and nodded, smoothing her thumb over the white space around the drawing.
“Yes, I thought it looked pretty on you.” Sunnie said truthfully, and tried to quash the sudden flash of fear that shot through her at her honesty.
Had the goddess made her say that? Was she inside her mind?
Raya furrowed her brows in confusion, and Sunnie stared at her as she lifted her hand to her cheek, rubbing the skin slowly.
“Pretty?” She said curiously, and an awful realisation hit Sunnie instantly as they rounded another corner.
She didn’t know what the word meant.
Trying to push away the sudden feeling of sympathy burning in her chest, and cleared her throat and gave Raya a smile.
“It means aesthetically pleasing, or… nice to look at.” She said, and an unprecedented amount of rage swept through her at the sound of Loki’s disbelieving exhale beside her, but she fought to ignore it.
“Nice… to look at.” Raya repeated, and the skin under her thumb flickered, the scar that cut from her eye down to her cheek elongating and stretching. “Mortals have strange perceptions.”
The goddess’ eyes were glazed over, her face scrunched up in contemplation, and Sunnie had the distinct feeling that Raya was no longer talking to her at all.
Sunnie turned her head towards Loki, and just before his expression morphed into its familiar mask of discontentment, she thought she saw a flash of pity in his bright eyes, but then his gaze was ripped quickly from Raya and forced back to the floor.
Sunnie held her clipboard tightly as she stopped before the conference room door, the muffled voices of the Avengers on the other side throwing all other considerations from her mind.
She quickly slid open the door and stepped aside to allow the two gods to pass her, keeping her back straight at attention as Raya’s keen eyes traced over her once again.
God, her stare was really intense. Sunnie could practically feel her skin trying to crawl off her body to escape the way the gaze burned, as if Raya could see every bone, every muscle in her body, as if she knew every weakness she possessed, and each she would gain in future.
Loki’s expression twisted in disgust as he stepped through the door, and she swallowed the painful edge of embarrassment that rushed through her at his obvious disapproval.
“Sunnie.” Raya said quietly, pausing in front of her, and she lifted her head in question as the goddess’ eyes flicked down to her knee. “Rest your incongruities. Your body is uneasy with itself.”
Sunnie’s lips parted in confusion, and Raya raised her dark eyes to meet her own.
The amount of curiosity shining in them sent a wave of uncertainty through her body, but she remained silent, unsure how to respond.
“Pain makes great warriors.” Raya said quietly, and Sunnie instinctively nodded, even as her mind whirred with her bewilderment. “But your heart is strangely light. Your pains are unearned.”
Raya’s gloved fingertips flashed with red light, and warmth swept through Sunnie’s body as the destabiliser around the goddess’ wrist beeped in warning.
“Your resilience is intriguing.” Raya said, and Sunnie felt her gaze sweep over her body yet again, her muscles easing against her own will. “You are stable in your vulnerability.”
Okay. Sunnie had no idea if the goddess was making fun of her, but Raya’s voice remained in the same serious, contemplative tone, and she didn’t know how to react to the sudden feeling of… weightlessness that settled in her body.
“How different mortal strength is…” Raya murmured, once again more to herself, her eyes glinting with red light, before she turned away, and the door slid closed behind her.
Sunnie was left standing alone in the hallway, baffled by the words from the goddess, now aware of the harsh thudding of her heart as silence enveloped her once again.
She cleared her throat as she slowly turned away, somehow more rattled from Raya’s soft words than her orders earlier.
As she rested her hand on her back, carefully rubbing the aching knot of muscle in her left side, she suddenly froze, shock racing through her at her realization.
The familiar pain, the constant, terrible ache… it was gone.
Confused and thrown off by the strange feeling of ease trickling through her muscles, Sunnie gripped her clipboard tightly to her chest, and hurried off towards her allocated bunk, her fingers already itching to hold her pencil once again.
If a goddess liked her art, she supposed that she had no choice but to continue designing new work.
Practically divined by a higher power.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
10:00am, May 12th, 2012.
So bright.
Everything, always so bright.
Raya did not squint, nor did she allow her eyes to leave Natasha’s as she stepped to the head of the table, her hands folding before her as she stood to attention.
Natasha looked away, her eyes red rimmed, and inwardly, Raya felt the familiar rush of vindication as she turned her gaze on the rest of the team.
The silence in the room was oppressive, and she revelled in the quickened heartbeats around her as she surveyed each Avenger carefully, the scent of their fear so overpowering that she could almost taste it.
She knew the heavy weight in the air well; as an executioner, she knew that the wandering mind always embezzled the panicked senses with useless proclivities; to breathe in slowly, to worry not, for the reparations needed to heal such a wound could not be that harsh.
They were almost comforting, the shiny memories that resurfaced, the edges of her vision darkened with the blood of the guilty. They were a stark reminder of who she had once been, and even as they disappeared in a flare of pain, she did not flinch.
The rage that simmered within her chest kept her still.
Her eyes slid from Steve’s set jaw to Bruce’s unreadable face, flicking up to examine the way Tony’s hand tapped against the table as their faces all turned towards her.
Atonement always began with fear. The uncertainty of one’s fate garnered the steady build of apprehension in a victim’s heart, sent their minds whirring to a rate she found dizzying; she could practically feel the strands of their thought cutting quickly through the air around them, swift glances and tight facial expressions shielding the harsh tendrils of panic wrapping around their throats.
There was an inherent cruelty in waiting for those under judgement to speak first. It left them unsure, wondering just what phrase would quell her displeasure, and what would only incentivise it further.
She allowed the silence to drag on, her eyes never settling on just one face, content with waiting.
The fearful always broke.
“We should have told you, Raya.”
Natasha’s voice was soft, but the firmness behind her words allowed for the respect she had for the woman to flourish momentarily.
Raya looked at her, focusing on her features as she carefully tapped the metal of her destabiliser, before she turned her head to the side, glancing at Loki.
“Sit.” Raya said finally, and the effect of her cold tone on those sitting before her made pride flare in her chest.
Loki looked back at her, and she saw the defiance rise in his face, saw his sharp look towards the Avengers, before her gaze locked on his and she narrowed her eyes.
There was another long moment of silence, wherein she felt the Avengers’ energy grow that much more tense, but then Loki simply slid into the seat to her right, his jaw clenched in annoyance.
The Avengers shifted uncertainly, but as their eyes drifted to Loki, she flexed her wrist, drawing their attention back to her.
“It was a poorly executed decision.” Steve said quickly, and a derisive noise of agreement fell from her lips as she met his eyes. “We had orders, we could not-”
She raised her hand, and Steve fell silent immediately, his strained words dying in his throat.
“You need not explain the details of your servitude to me.” She said, her voice perfectly even as she studied him. “I know well enough what it is to be directed by a higher power.”
Her words were met with a burning silence, and she glanced up to see Steve shifting nervously in his seat, his hands folded tightly before him.
“The past is the past.” She said, and instantly, she felt the heartbeats around her begin to steady. “What I want from you are direct, concise orders. I want explanations and deliberations.”
She turned her head to fix her eyes on Natasha, and to her credit, the woman did not shrink away under her harsh gaze.
“I want to be heard by this council.” She continued, tapping her finger against her destabiliser once again as she considered Natasha’s tight features. “Lest we all burn in the Kleviah’s return for vengeance, I suggest you tell me what is going on, now.”
Tony immediately sat forward, the screen hovering over the table flickering to life, and Raya tilted her head in interest as she heard his fingers clicking over his keyboard.
“We’ve got four downed planes in the last 72 hours.” He said quickly, his tone steady, even as she felt his heartbeat stutter with fear as she raised her eyes to his. “I believe they’re heading back towards us; the first disappeared over Soria, Spain, just hours after we boarded this ship.”
“The S.H.I.E.L.D base in Madrid has only just come back into contact with us.” Clint chimed in, and a red dot flashed on the map that sprawled across the screen before her. “It was burned to the ground after their radars picked up on unauthorised aerial activity, and they shot first. They had over 150 fatalities, and those left were heavily wounded. They were only able to escape to through the tunnels on a stroke of luck.”
Raya leaned forwards onto the table as she studied the blinking lights that danced across the map, her fingers tapping against the glass as her mind whirred.
“Our advantage is our current state.” She said, looking over at Clint’s solemn expression as she spoke. “The Kleviah are unfamiliar with this terrain, this… water. Unfortunately, so am I, but the issue of my ignorance is easily solved.”
Raya’s eyes flicked over to Natasha again, and she swallowed against the strange sensation of unease that settled in her chest as she stared at her.
“An order, given with a firm hand, is impossible to circumvent.” She continued, and when the woman nodded curtly to her, she returned her gaze to the screen. “The Kleviah prefer to move at night; they are nocturnal creatures, and your sun will be as disorienting for them as it is for me. They attack with ease in the darkness.”
“I’m assuming a whole lot of bright flashing lights would be the bane of their existence then?” Tony said, and Raya looked up to see a smile on his lips, even as his focus remained on his computer screen.
“Essentially, yes. Do you have anything of that nature?” She asked, and as Tony nodded, his fingers flying across the keyboard, relief swelled in her chest.
Raya set her shoulders as she studied the map before her, visualising her plan in her mind as the familiar surge of power swept through her.
“The live count on this boat is over three thousand, is it not?” She asked, but she already knew the answer.
She could feel the thrumming of their hearts through the walls. Close containment made for a constant torture, but she enjoyed the ease of which she could find their heat signatures.
Something the Kleviah would appreciate as well.
“Yes.” Natasha answered quickly, her voice strong and Raya hummed in acknowledgement as the woman continued. “Just under two thousand five hundred are trained for field combat; the others specialise in different areas.”
Raya’s eyes narrowed slightly at that - how else could someone be trained? – but she ignored the questions in her mind as she watched agents wander through the halls on the screen, different footage popping up before her eyes.
“I will need both Thor and Loki.” She said after a moment of contemplation, lowering her eyes to lock on Thor’s intrigued expression. “I expect that they may be the hardest to burn alive.”
Loki made a disgruntled noise beside her, and she glanced over at him, her gaze hardening at the expression of petulance on his face.
He was leaning back against his chair, an air of insolence hovering around him as he surveyed her with his bright green eyes, and irritation bit at her as his gaze glittered with defiance.
“I am afraid I am not asking.” She continued, feeling the air around them tightened once again as several of the Avengers shifted uncomfortably, quiet mutterings falling from their lips, but her gaze never left Loki. “Your magic is infallible. The mortals cannot defend themselves, so it is your burden.”
Instantly, Loki let out an incredulous laugh, but before he could speak further, or before the Avengers could cut in with their incessant fears, Raya slammed her fist into the table before her.
The glass cracked down the centre, leaving the table intact, but she dared not follow it with her eyes, simply staring at Loki, watching anger and fear fight for authority over his expression.
“Do not make me force you.” She said, her voice rising in her annoyance, and she felt her energy pulse hotly inside her chest. “I can promise it will not be an enviable experience.”
A harsh breath fell from Loki’s lips as he held her gaze, but after a few moments, he groaned irritably, and rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
“How noble of the great warrior.” He muttered, and Raya’s hand clenched on the table, betraying her anger. “Protecting mortals.”
A shock was sent burning up her arm as she raised her hand towards him, red light shimmering around her fingertips as she glared down at him.
“One more word.” She said, allowing her displeasure to flood her stiff words, and her eyes flicked down to his hand as she watched it press to his chest. “Breathe another insolent remark into existence, and I will tear out your throat.”
Loki looked at her, his eyes narrowing as she straightened up to face him, but as she flexed her hand, light pulsing around her fingertips, his arms shot up in immediate surrender.
“My sincerest apologies.” He drawled, and Raya heard Bruce let out an aggravated sigh. “As the star commands.”
Raya looked away from him as he leant further back into his chair, and found the Avengers staring back at her, strange mixtures of surprise and unease twisting their features, but she ignored it.
Let them be confused. Let them understand how it felt to be frozen in unfamiliarity.
“When the Kleviah attack, there is every chance that these ships will be destroyed.” Raya said, and she caught the quirk of Natasha’s eyebrow before the woman could speak. “I am hoping that drawing them further into the open air will circumvent any damage that may befall your people.”
Tony’s fingers paused on his keyboard, and she met his curious eyes, waiting for him to speak the words she could practically feel tugging at his mind.
“We know an attack is imminent, but how are you going to get to them?” He asked, sitting forwards slightly. “It’s not as like you can meet them in the air, and we have had… issues with the water.”
Her anger abated for the moment, Raya contemplated his expression, splaying her hands out on the table before her, and as it dawned on her that he was serious, she felt the corners of her mouth lift slightly.
“I assure you that it is no difficult feat for me to participate in aerial combat.” She said, steeling herself for her next words, her fingers tapping against the cool glass. “As for the water… if I should meet my demise in your roiling seas, my final breath shall not be taken in vain.”
A strange hush fell over the group at her words, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loki’s expression tighten further, something that only increased her confusion.
“I suggest you hide your soldiers.” She continued, pushing through the tense silence, her eyes now scanning the solemn faces around her. “Those who cannot fight in the skies must not create more issues than they are worth.”
Rigid nods, determined glances, shifting hands.
“Those of you who are unenhanced by abilities, I advise against your involvement. I will not save you in the face of your incompetence.” Raya directed her words towards Tony, Bruce and Clint, but then turned her eyes to Natasha and Steve. “Your extended lifespans cannot protect you from the indifference of the Kleviah’s flame.”
Tony and Bruce instantly turned towards Natasha, their eyes wide, and she could see the horror that lit up Natasha’s features at her words; for what reason, she did not know, but she found it very difficult to care.
“We have been extremely lucky that they did not find us quicker, but I suppose their need for exploration of this new world has been distracting them from their task.” She added, her voice slightly stronger to regain the interest of the Avengers, and she saw Steve instantly snap to attention at her sharp tone. “We must prepare immediately, because they will have sent their most powerful warriors to us. To me.”
She raised her eyes, her shoulders setting as she straightened up, and caught Thor’s gaze, slightly taken aback by the unusual look in his eyes.
Pride, perhaps? She did not truly know.
The Avengers remained silent, their heartbeats racing in her ears, their breaths quick with anticipation, and Raya raised her eyebrow as nobody moved.
“Have I been understood?” She said, her voice lowered harshly as she glared in Natasha’s direction, and her sentence seemed to reinvigorate them instantly.
“Yes, you have.” Tony answered quickly, his eyes no longer on her, now resting on his computer screen. “Bright lights, nighttime attacks and impending doom. A lovely summary of what we need, and I thank you for it.”
Raya did not allow herself to smile at his words, only nodding her head as she let out a sigh of relief.
As Natasha, Clint and Steve rose from their seats, rapidly taking off in different directions, their shouts echoing down the halls, and those remaining began to discuss the situation between themselves before her, Raya allowed her shoulders to sag slightly as she slipped into the seat beside Loki.
She could feel his eyes on her, but her head was aching so terribly that she couldn’t be bothered to question it, simply rubbing the bridge of her nose as relief continued to wash through her.
She had been heard, finally. They were listening to her, and it felt unashamedly good to settle into the role of commander yet again.
Perhaps, now, she could have a sliver of hope.
Notes:
“Requiesce securus, quia custoditur anima tua.” “Mala vota non cedet tibi.”
"Rest easy, for your soul is guarded." "Ill wishes will not yield to you."
An excerpt from a Roman poem (known as Ode 1.9 To Thaliarchus in Winter or BkllX Winter) by Horace:
'Let the gods take care of the rest.
Once they've brought all the winds that brawl on the boiling sea to heel,
then nothing shakes the ancient alder and beautiful cypress tree.'“Diis reliqua relinque: cum ventis cessaverint.”
"Leave the rest to the gods: when the winds have ceased."“Longe certamina per aequora rabiosa; neque cupressos videbis.”
Far away the fighting through the raging waters; nor will you see cypress trees.“Nec cineres veternosus commovere poterit.”
"Not even the old man can stir the ashes."definitely not a seamless translation, as you can see, but I'm trying my best!
Chapter 15: Falling Slow, In The Pouring Rain
Summary:
HEYYYYY, whats up guys, how are you going? I've been tired, stressed out, overworked and underpaid as of late, and i have huge ass exams hurtling towards me so wuickly that its going to send me into a spiral so! I am sorry if this chapter is not up to par, i hit some crazy strangling writer's block during a certain pov, and it had me stumped for a while BUUUUTTTT here we go! enjoy, and dont cry or anything (like i did while writing it).
love y'all and stay safe out there!
translations will be at the bottom yet again!
chapter title from Hurricane by Tommee Profitt
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
5:27pm, May 12th, 2012.
She moved so smoothly; it was horribly irritating.
Loki tapped his fingers against his knee as he leant against the wall, his eyes following Raya’s quick movements as her grunts of exertion filled the air.
One harsh kick, and the dummy she was fighting flew across the training room and slammed into the wall, sand spilling out over the ground as it crumpled.
Once again, as she turned her head to examine the damage, her gaze locked on his, her expression stoic, and he looked away hurriedly, picking at the Asgardian leather that wrapped around his wrists.
He needed to study her fighting style. He needed to try and discern a pattern. That was it.
Loki set his jaw and ignored the burn of her eyes on him.
He wanted to be angrier; she had ordered him around, treated him like a child, and had done all of it before the Avengers, simply to add insult to injury. How would they see him now? As some mindless soldier who bent his knee to the first commander to demand things from him, or as a tameable beast finally put in its place?
He found he didn’t like either option very much, but that did nothing to stop the simple numbness spreading through him as he watched her raise her fists in preparation again.
He was too tired to muster up his rage, his head aching and heart heavy with the nightmares of the early morning, and a small voice inside his mind chastised him for his treatment of the goddess.
She had deserved his harshness; she had only been irritable, only been confronting and offensive all day, disrespecting him at every turn, despite her attempts at comfort earlier.
Loki recoiled from the memory of his weakness, nausea sweeping through him as he remembered his pitiful cries and horribly weak words.
Perhaps that was why she had been so harsh. Maybe he had finally found a way to circumvent her strange respect for him by turning into a whining mess of broken tears over a stupid dream.
He tried to push away the disgusting ache of worry from him at the idea, but it clung to his every thought, leaving him feeling quite wrongfooted.
This is what he wanted. Raya was demanding and bossy. She was frustrating and irritable. Loki didn’t want anything to do with her, especially not now, not when the Avengers were somehow finding new ways to lump them together in every scenario.
He could handle the hateful glares and careful ostracization, because he knew he deserved it.
He could not stomach the thought of being roped in with someone else, for better or for worse.
“The coming conflict will not be won by idle hands.” Raya’s voice rang out, and Loki looked up to meet her sharpened gaze, his hands freezing on his knees. “Is pensiveness your simple prerogative?”
Loki looked at her, trying the quell the thrill of fear that shot through him at the sight of her fading crimson eyes, and sighed as he pushed himself off the wall and onto his feet.
“The bullheadedness of your character leaves much to be desired in terms of personality.” He muttered under his breath, and he walked past Raya quickly, avoiding her gaze as he reached down to set up a dummy of his own.
“The sullenness that permeates your every breath makes for an easy target in the face of judgement.” The goddess said, her voice clear and firm, and as he turned back to her, his jaw dropping in offense, she simply shrugged. “We approach battle, and you remain steadfastly laden with displeasure. Why?”
Loki let out an annoyed sigh, allowing the dummy to spring up, watching it sway in an aggravating fashion for a few moments before he kicked out at it irritably, and sent it flying into the opposite wall.
As it thudded against the metal and hit the floor, Raya hummed in approval, and Loki hurriedly forced away the awful burn of pride that rushed through him as he turned to meet her eyes.
“I fear we have covered this topic repeatedly.” He muttered, and Raya raised in eyebrow in question, to which he smirked mockingly. “My feelings are none of your concern.”
Raya’s hands flexed as she raised them before herself, and Loki’s taunting expression froze on his face as she gestured for him to come closer with two fingers.
“I do not like to fight alongside those who have clouded minds.” Raya said simply as she carefully pulled her gloves down her arms, ensuring they were tight to her skin before studying him intently. “If you are harbouring ill will, whether it be for another, or from certain experiences, it does nothing to sit in melancholy. Not when we shall depend on you so heavily tonight.”
Loki rolled his eyes at the mention of the upcoming battle, but his sharp retort died in his throat as he watched her eyes glitter with intrigue.
She wanted him to challenge her. Of course she did; Loki had no doubt that these dummies were boring her to tears, but at the sight of the clear enthusiasm in her eyes, he hesitated.
“If you should have me in this fight, I can assure you that my objective is to keep you alive.” Raya said, her voice and words by no means reassuring, but Loki simply squared his shoulders as an exasperated sigh slipped past his lips yet again.
“I suppose I have to take your word for it.” He said derisively, even as he began to approach her, his hands raising in preparation. “Considering your unfortunate inability to lie.”
Raya eyed him for a moment, her gaze flicking down to trail over his body, and Loki straightened his back automatically under her attention, gritting his teeth against the irritating thoughts sliding unbidden into his mind.
“A falsehood uttered from a silver-tongued mouth holds no weight in the midst of battle.” Raya said, and Loki was surprised to see the slight quirk of her lips at the words. “Tongues can be ripped from between unwilling lips, just as a lie can tear apart the carefully woven fabric of truth.”
Loki stared at her for a long moment, before letting a laugh fall from his lips, attempting to force away the wave of unease that crashed through him at her words.
“How is it that you can speak vexing passages, rife with detailed utterances, and yet you cannot comprehend simplistic words?” Loki said, his voice edged with a taunt as he began to circle her, internally pleased when she began to move with him. “Surely, your skills cannot be that rudimentary.”
“One cannot comprehend a word that has never before been learnt.” Raya’s voice was controlled as she stepped closer, and the space between them lessened once again. “‘Pretty’ was not deemed an essential phrase in Cirica, and it confuses me as to why it would be here. The word itself, its explanation, I cannot make sense of it.”
Her eyes, locked on his for every word thus far, fell to the ground, and Loki took his chance as her guard went down.
How foolish he was, to think her guard ever fell.
As he kicked out at her knee, Raya’s gloved hand wrapped around his ankle, tugging him harshly towards her and sending him wildly off balance.
Loki threw his body towards her as she pulled him forwards, but then her hand disappeared from around his ankle, and his knees nearly buckled under him as he was sent stumbling towards the wall, his heart thudding hard in his ears.
“Do you often fight with weapons?” Raya’s voice called from behind him, and he glanced back at her, watching as her eyes glimmered with red light. “Do you rely on them to save yourself?”
Loki glared at her, his hands curling into fists as his irritation rose, but as something about the sincerity of her words confused him, and he nodded despite himself.
“Daggers.” He confirmed, and Raya nodded approvingly, her eyes flicking down to his hands as her body tensed. “Why?”
Raya studied his hands for a moment, then her eyes locked on his, concentration hardening her gaze as she walked purposefully towards him.
Loki’s muscles tensed in anticipation, and just as her hand shot out to grab his wrist, he twisted sideways, his hands immediately moving to her shoulders and pulling her back against his chest.
Raya didn’t struggle when his elbow came up to press hard against her throat, her hands snaking around his waist to grasp his hips, and Loki swore he could hear the smile in her voice as she leant against his chest.
“You move as if you miss the weight of them.”
Before he could comprehend the words, her foot came down hard onto his own, and as he yelled in pain, Raya’s body bent beneath him, her fingers forcing his arm off her neck as she threw him over her shoulders.
Loki hit the floor hard, the breath knocked from his lungs as his head slammed into the metal beneath him, and as he groaned, he saw Raya looking down at him, her lips still lifted in her strange version of a smile.
“You also allow for close combat far too quickly.” She continued, carefully stepping out of reach as he angrily lashed out at her feet, a burning tinge of humiliation sweeping through him at her indifference. “I assume you excel in it, when compared to long range attacks.”
The bruise to his pride ached just as his head did, and as Raya offered her hand to him, he ignored it, pushing himself to his feet and rolling his shoulder to soothe the muscles in his back.
That action only seemed to make the intrigue in her eyes increase, and Loki scoffed at her words as he raised his eyes to meet hers.
“I am perfectly competent without them.” He spat, and Raya’s expression shifted into a more controlled one, her gaze alight with challenge.
“I know.” Raya answered immediately as she circled him slowly, apparently examining him from every angle, and Loki narrowed his eyes at her as he felt his heart thud hard against his chest. “You are not weak.”
It was not a compliment, nor was it an insult; it was a statement, one she clearly believed, but Loki flinched away from it all the same.
“I believe that I may have dismissed the need for silence too quickly.” Loki said, turning his head to follow Raya with his eyes, his body tensed in preparation for the moment she chose to lunge. “Your words are quite bothersome.”
“Bothersome because they irritate you, or bothersome because they correct you?”
Raya’s voice was light, no hint of malice clear in her expression as the question met his ears, and Loki barely had enough time to process the words before Raya lunged at him.
He was quick to dodge the swipe of her hand to his face, and he caught her by the wrist, his hand immediately reaching up her arm and bending it harshly, enough so that a hiss of pain slipped from her lips.
Raya’s other hand shot up, catching him across the cheek, and he grunted as he blocked the swipe of her leg to his knee, locking their arms together as he glared at her through her splayed fingers.
Red light was dancing in her dark eyes, but her destabiliser continued to beep at a steady pace; her control over her abilities was perhaps more impressive than he’d originally thought.
“Bothersome because they come from you.” He shot back at her in reply as he caught his breath, fighting to keep his arm intertwined with hers as he felt her begin to push back, digging his heels into the metal floor as he could.
Raya’s fangs shimmered in the electric light as her lips pulled back from her teeth, her smile widening, and Loki grunted in pain as he realised she was twisting his wrist as she pushed against his arm.
He struggled against her ironclad grip to no avail, fear shooting through him as he frantically tried to pull his arm from hers, but as her eyes met his, her gaze questioning, Loki felt the strangest sense of warmth rush through him.
“You panic when things do not go your way.” Raya said quietly, her smile fading slightly as their arms shook, and Loki sucked in a sharp breath of annoyance. “You are too fixed on one goal.”
Her free hand lifted into the air, and his eyes darted to it, but in the same second, Raya released his hands, taking advantage of his surprise to force his face into her raised knee.
Loki groaned as his jaw cracked against her, pain shooting through his nerves, but even as the world swayed beneath him, his arms flew out to latch around her waist, forcing her backwards.
Raya’s hand fisted in his hair as he tackled her to the ground, but he quickly ripped it away, satisfaction sparking in his chest as she groaned in pain.
“You are the most irritating creature I have ever met.” Loki said sharply, his voice rough as he caught his breath, fighting to keep a cocky smile off his lips as he successfully held her down.
Her hands were clawing at his shoulders, but he fought through the stinging pain as he pressed his knee into her thigh, forcing her to still under him, but before a cocky laugh could fall from his lips, her other leg wrapped tightly around his waist, and dread twisted his stomach awfully.
Raya’s hands left his shoulders, and he felt her stomach tense under his hands as she used her arms as leverage, throwing her body to the side and tossing him from his precarious perch on top of her.
Hel.
Loki didn’t have enough time to stop her next movements, his surroundings swaying dangerously, and it was only a matter of seconds before Raya’s legs were wrapped around his hips, and her hand was at his throat.
Her eyes were glittering, red light flashing through the brown irises as her expression remained locked in concentration, her fingers steady around his throat.
“You are curious.” Raya murmured, and Loki groaned in frustration as her free hand pressed into the side of his face, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “So… strange…”
His hands shot up to scrabble uselessly at her wrist, and as Raya tilted her head to examine his features, Loki wondered just how much effort she was really using.
Under the strong grip of her hand, her thighs tightening in warning around him as he tried to free himself, Loki was certain that if she wanted it, his neck would have been broken before he’d hit the floor.
“I am beginning to believe…” Loki panted as he strained against the tightness of her hand, his hands trembling with the effort of trying to force it away from his throat, “…that you enjoy this far too much.”
Raya’s eyes narrowed in confusion, and as she hurriedly released his throat, Loki sucked in a deep breath, his head tilting towards the ceiling in relief.
“It is what I have trained in.” Raya said as she rolled off him, shaking off her hands before continuing. “It is what I am proficient in.”
Loki pushed himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the irritated skin around his throat, and as he caught the sudden flash of unrest in Raya’s expression as she got to her feet, he raised an eyebrow in bewilderment.
“Your statements of the obvious continue to amaze.” He muttered, but Raya didn’t answer, her body going rigid as she looked up at the ceiling.
Her hand was clenched into a tight fist, and Loki eyed her curiously, watching as her jaw set, and she let out a harsh breath.
“They are nearly here.” She said firmly, and the sight of unease on her face made Loki wildly uncomfortable. “We must make sure everything is ready.”
Loki sighed irritably as she walked towards him, and he was slightly surprised when her hand reached out to him, glancing up to meet her eyes.
Any trace of enjoyment had faded from her expression, and though the look in her eyes made his stomach twist anxiously, he took her hand quickly, allowing her to pull him to his feet.
“I need you to keep these mortals safe.” Raya said, her voice lowered, almost as if they were conspiring, and Loki fought to keep his expression blank as she tightened her grip on his hand, the fabric of her gloves cool against his skin. “I have played my part in ensuring they do not know of your emotions, and now you must protect them.”
Loki furrowed his brows in confusion, slightly disoriented as Raya tugged harshly on his arm, bringing him even closer to her.
The scar above her lip glinted with red light, and then faded away.
“You- What do you-” He started, but Raya cut through his befuddled words with a sharp tone.
“The impurity of humanity is not upon your shoulders to decide.” Raya said, her eyes darting between his, and Loki shifted his hand in her grip. “Remain faithless, if you prefer it, but do not let them fall.”
Her words were so sincere, so rife with emotion he hadn’t known she possessed, that he found himself nodding on instinct, and Raya’s lips quirked upwards ever so slightly before she hurriedly turned away.
His mind was stalled, too many confusing and inexplicable emotions swirling within him, but as her hand slipped out of his grip, he automatically stepped forward, words falling from his lips against his will.
“Try not to fail us all, star.” He said, his voice cold as the nickname burned the tip of his tongue, and as she glanced back at him, her expression unreadable, he forced his to remain reticent. “Your death would leave me alone with fools, and I do not relish the thought.”
Too many words. He was saying too many words, what had come over him? He did not care what happened, he barely wanted to participate in her foolish plans, and he certainly did not find discomfort in the idea of her death-
“Death will not take my soul today. Of that, I am certain.” Raya’s measured tone cut through his drifting thoughts, and his eyes snapped up to meet hers as she paused in the doorway. “Remain vigilant.”
Loki tilted his head in a mock bow at her words, but her expression did not change, and as she disappeared through the doorway, Loki found that his heart, so often heavy with guilt, was aching with something he did not understand.
For it was foolish, to consider that he might be fearful of the coming battle, and even more so to speculate that he was somehow worried for anyone at all.
As he straightened himself up, a distant cry met his ears, a horrible screech of piercing laughter, and Loki forced his head to remain high, even as the barest hint of fear crept into his mind.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
6:10pm, May 12th, 2012.
There were voices everywhere as Natasha ran through the ship’s hallways, but she didn’t stop, didn’t look around as agents flowed past her, a panicked river of bodies, and the yells of fear only increased as shrill screeching echoed through the air high above them.
“Everyone, down, now!” Steve was shouting, his arms raised as he directed people down the stairs, but Nat barely paused in her sprint, her hand tightening around the keys in her hand.
Raya. She needed Raya.
Sirens were blaring as she knocked hard into someone, and she grunted in pain as she looked up to see Banner, his hand pressed against his shirt as his chest heaved, his eyes wild.
Their gazes locked, and as she gestured to the roof with a tilt of her head, he nodded frantically as his hand slid up to grasp at his neck.
Under his fingers, Natasha could see traces of green spreading through his skin, and her stomach twisted in panic.
She was on her feet again in a moment, hurriedly flying around a corner and throwing herself up a set of stairs, her heart hammering hard against her chest as the echoing shrieks grew closer.
They had no time, she needed Raya now.
She flung open the door that led to the deck, glancing around to see Banner close behind her, swaying as the boat rocked beneath their feet, and relief rushed through her as she caught sight of Raya.
Loki was standing beside her; their hands were raised to the sky as rain flicked past their faces, almost as if they were searching for something, and in the half-lit darkness, she could see the dual flashing of their destabilisers.
The key in her hand was biting into her skin, but as another horrific cry echoed through the air, she was forced to cover her ears, the sharp scream sending a chill down her spine.
“Romanoff!” Thor’s voice boomed over the thunder, but she didn’t turn towards him, her eyes locked on Raya as she slid across the slick deck.
The goddess turned to look at her at Thor’s shout, her eyes dark, her expression empty, and Loki eyed her disdainfully as she got closer, but Nat didn’t care; what they thought of her wasn’t important, not now, not ever.
“Give me your hand!” She shouted as the wind howled around them, and Raya’s arm automatically shot up, bracing herself against the railing with her opposite arm.
Natasha grasped at the destabiliser, forcing the key into the lock, her eyes blurred over with water, and as the piece of metal crumpled to the ground, the wind whipped past and threw it into the sea below.
Raya surveyed her resolutely for a moment, before turning her head towards Loki, who glared back at her, his jaw tight as his gaze shifted over to Nat.
Natasha fought to keep herself upright in the harsh wind, goosebumps erupting along her skin as her hands shook, but she only stared back at him, her heart racing.
She was releasing them, giving two gods complete reign over her wellbeing, everyone’s wellbeing, and hoping they would protect their lives.
God, she hoped she was making the right choice, because it was far too late to back out now.
Loki’s arm came up, the beeping of his destabiliser lost in the howling wind, and Natasha ignored the strange swell of relief and dread that burned through her as she slid the key into the destabiliser, letting the now useless metal fall to the deck.
Loki’s expression was unreadable, but Natasha imagined she could see relief flooding his features as the destabiliser was swept away into the sea far below them.
Overhead, the sky erupted into a flash of red light, and Natasha saw the way Raya’s eyes dilated; she was determined, it was clearly etched into every line of her face.
“They’re here!” Raya yelled over the storm brewing above them, and her voice sharpened into a command as she glanced over at Nat. “Go! Stay with your people!”
A whooshing noise came from her right, and Natasha looked over her shoulder to see Tony, the metal of his suit clanging against the deck as he touched down, and he gave her a curt nod before his mask came down to cover his face.
“You ready, kid?” Tony yelled, and as Natasha stumbled, the ship swaying beneath her feet, she caught Raya’s quick nod out of the corner of her eye.
She couldn’t stay up here, she knew that she’d be swept off the damn ship by the wind alone, but she steadied herself against the railing as she moved closer to Raya.
The goddess eyed her curiously, and she swallowed hard, blinking quickly as rain assaulted her eyes, her voice coming out in a hoarse whisper,
“Nulla misericordia.”
No mercy.
Raya’s eyes glimmered a bright crimson, and she nodded instantly, her shoulders squaring as she stood to attention, her gaze turning towards the sky.
The next roar that came was deeper, mingling with others as they echoed through the air and blended with the thunder, and as Thor stepped up beside her, Natasha fell back from the group and staggered towards the door.
Bruce was standing by the doorway, clutching his head in apparent agony, and Natasha watched as the bicep of his right arm began to stretch, swelling in size before her eyes.
“Hulk!” She screamed over the wind, and Bruce’s head snapped over to hers, green blossoming underneath the skin of his jaw, and she pointed towards the sky. “Smash!”
The air was suddenly aflame around her, sparks of bright light shooting up high into the clouds, and as Natasha whirled around, she could see the shadows of the Kleviah illuminated against the sky as they circled the ship.
Of course, Tony would use bloody fireworks.
Banner yelled in pain, his voice deepening further, and Natasha quickly forced herself behind the door as the boat swayed under her feet, peering out from the crack as terror flashed through her.
Raya was running towards the edge of the ship, red light dancing around her as her feet left the deck, and Natasha’s heart almost stopped as she watched her disappear from sight.
Darkness swelled around the boat as the kleviah roared above them, and with each second that passed, the weight of the dread swirling around in her stomach grew heavier.
Had their destabilisers thrown off her powers so harshly that she had lost whatever made her fly? Natasha didn’t know how on earth the goddess was so confident in her abilities; how was she supposed to stay in the air?
A whirring noise met her ears, sharp and piercing, and as her eyes locked on a silhouette as it soared high into the sky, she caught the bright glow of red eyes glancing down towards those still standing on the ship’s edge.
As the fireworks exploded against the clouds yet again, the kleviah’s shrieks of pained confusion making her heart race, Natasha saw wings expand from the goddess’ back, black and scaly, shimmering in the colourful light as they beat hard against the air.
Holy shit.
Before she could ponder it any further, the wind slammed the door she was holding onto shut, and she jumped, startled back into her reality.
Her body thrumming with adrenaline and fear, her heart in her throat, Natasha ran down the steps, barely catching herself each time the boat rocked harshly under her feet.
She was trying to think rationally, but nothing about this was rational, not gods and dragons and magic, but it didn’t matter that it wasn’t rational.
It was happening, and as she stumbled down the hallway towards where all the agents were hiding out, Natasha forced herself to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, and not on the horrible, shrill screeching echoing through the sky above her.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
6:10pm, May 12th, 2012.
As scales tore through her skin, as her fangs sharpened and elongated, as her wings expanded around her, Raya felt as if she could finally breathe again.
Her claws sliced deep into the klevia’s shoulders, rivulets of crimson blood twisting down her arms, and as Raya yelled in triumph, the creature beneath her screamed.
As the beast reared its head, trying to throw her off, Raya only dug her claws in deeper, sinking her teeth into the exposed flesh of its neck, her wings beating hard around her to keep herself steady.
The creature twisted hard in the air, and her growl of rage met its shriek of pain in the open air as she tore open its back, power surging through her body as her vision was painted red.
Blood splattered over her face, mingling with the rain as she forced her hand into the klevia’s back, easily snapping a vertebrate and causing its wings to falter, red light spilling out over its scales as Raya ripped flesh from its back.
Her energy pulsed throughout her body as she dodged its snapping jaws, and with a final burst of effort, her hand wrapped around its spinal cord, feeling it shatter under her fingertips.
She tore her claws from the creature’s back and slid down the slope of its neck, throwing herself clear of its falling body, soaring through the air in a controlled dive as her eyes darted around for more.
Green light flashed far beneath her, and she could just make out Loki’s form as he pushed up a forcefield around the ship, sending the klevia’s body hurtling towards the open expanse of water instead.
Her head jerked to the right as someone yelled, and as a flash of lightning erupted beside her head, she dived out of Thor’s way, watching as his hammer broke the jaw of a roaring klevia.
He was competent.
It was reassuring.
A smile slipped onto her lips as she flipped through the air, throwing herself into the path of another klevia, and as her claws shot out to slice its throat, she caught sight of its bloody scales, clearly singed by another, and her eyes darted upwards as a blur of colour flew past her head.
“Thanks, kid!” Tony yelled above her, and she caught herself on the air currents, soaring high over his head as her wings expanded, dodging the light flying from his thrusters as another klevia dived towards him.
A monstrous yell sounded from above her, and Raya braced herself just in time catch hold of a klevia’s wing, her hands burning effortlessly through its scales.
As she raised her eyes to its back, she could see a green giant clinging to the klevia’s body, its face coated in blood, anger burning brightly in its eyes, and as it repeatedly slammed its fists into the klevia’s skull, her momentary confusion melted away.
“Dr Bruce Banner. Hulk.”
She released the klevia’s wing, relishing in its tortured screech as it dropped towards the water below, and she swerved quickly in the air to avoid the Hulk’s fists, his enraged roar reverberating through her skull as he fell.
Roars of harsh laughter swelled around her as her eyes flicked up, her heart racing in her chest, her body burning with adrenaline and, finally, raw, undiluted power.
These humans were more than they had been described; unyielding and formidable, they seemed to welcome violence rather than run from it.
They were nothing like what Loki had told her, but he was not portrayed any better by them; yet she knew well enough that every source of information she had received was not a lie, at least not to the person who had uttered it.
Perhaps human nature aligned more closely to her own than she had been made to believe.
As a cry tore through her musings, she spun quickly in mid-air, her wings tilting downwards as a klevia swept past her, and she threw herself into a free fall as she heard a harsh whirring follow its next scream.
10 seconds.
Raya tightened her muscles in anticipation, her mouth aching as her fangs ripped further through her gums, her body thrumming with excitement as she felt the air behind her grow heavier, and she tightened her wings around her body instantly.
5 seconds.
She turned rapidly in the air, facing the klevia’s gaping maw as molten lava began to climb up its throat, and a smile stretched across her face as its jaw unhooked.
Now!
Raya tilted her head back, and a harsh bark of laughter was torn from her lips as the klevia swallowed her whole, its panicked cry of fear muffled by her body as she dug her claws into its throat, her legs submerged in lava.
Power swept through Raya’s body as the heat surrounded her, and as she began systematically swiping the klevia’s pharynx, her eyes blurred over, red bleeding slowly into her vision as she sunk her teeth into its flesh.
A high-pitched scream was ripped from her as her magic seared her skin, and then she was enveloped in red light, heat tearing at her every nerve as the klevia erupted around her.
There was a certain sense of pride that came with stopping a heart from beating.
Raya’s wings opened around her as pieces of the klevia’s body rained down around her, and she licked up her wrist to clear away traces of its blood, her stomach growling hungrily.
To feed, it was a gift here.
Just as it had been on Cirica.
“Raya!” Thor’s voice cut through the air, and she instantly turned towards him, her eyes catching on the glint of his hammer in the lightning that flashed around them.
He raised his weapon to gesture above them, and as the thudding of frantic heartbeats grew unbearable, Raya looked up to see a swarm of kleviah circling above them, beginning to break off into dives, their roaring laughter echoing through the rough winds.
Her mind whirred as her eyes darted from his hammer to the beasts descending upon them, and heat surged through her body as she raised her hands before her.
Red light burst from her fingertips just as she saw comprehension dawn on Thor’s expression, and he braced himself as her energy slammed into his hammer, angling it towards the sky.
Raya grunted in pain as her hands pulsed with crimson light, her eyes flicking up as the kleviah’s screams turned fearful, and she watched as the beam of light sliced through a few of their bodies, sending them careening off into their neighbours.
Thunder rumbled all around them as the sky exploded with lightning, and Raya could see Thor straining to keep his weapon steady, his arms trembling with exertion as rain pounded down all around them.
Her heart was hammering in her chest as Raya felt her skin burning, her chest heaving as her head spun wildly, and as her gaze fell to her hands, she realised they were shaking.
No.
Kleviah fell through the air around them, the leather of their wings torn by her fire, screeching as they fell past her, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of nausea that slammed into her as the light in her hands died.
Thor lifted his head, his jaw tight, and she could see a burn seared into his hand where he held his hammer, but the awful sensation of dread that gripped her ripped away any of her compassion.
She had done this before. She had used her powers for longer than this, for hours of endless torture, for days, and yet…
Her confusion blinded her, and Thor did not move fast enough to catch her.
A klevia grabbed her by the shoulders, its claws digging into her skin, and Raya screamed in frustration as its wings cut across her own, slicing through the scales that had layered themselves over her arms.
Thor’s yell was lost to the wind as her wings faltered, and Raya twisted in the klevia’s grasp as it snapped at her head, pain tearing through her as her magic flooded her system completely.
The klevia cried out shrilly as flames erupted along its scales, shards of red light beginning to force themselves into its skin, and its in panic to quell the unescapable heat, it dropped her.
Another klevia swept in from the side, and Raya tore at its legs just as a third came down to swipe at her head, the force of its claws snapping her head back, and Raya screamed as she clutched at her eye, blood leaking from between her fingers.
The kleviah shrieked happily, and through the haze of pain, she could see flashes of electricity zapping at their scaled skin, but when one fell, another swooped in, taking its turn to swipe at her body.
The wound on her side, only a few days old, was torn open as a klevia’s claws buried themselves between her ribs, and she cried out as her body writhed in pain, her hands shooting out to grip the offending creature.
Her magic erupted from her body, sweeping over the several beasts around her, and even as she screamed, blood spilling from her lips as her body was wracked with convulsions, she did not let go.
“My final breath shall not be taken in vain.”
The innocents would not die for her mistakes.
Raya couldn’t contain the howl of anguish that left her as the kleviah tried to release her, their bodies melting against her flesh as waves of energy emanated off her, and as a klevia reared its head, her claws sunk into its jaw.
As their scales softened and moulded with her body, intertwining them in a mess of bloodied flesh, Raya let out a shaky breath, the pain surging through her so horrific that she could barely feel it anymore.
The water rushed up to meet her as she tumbled through the air, and as her body convulsed and shuddered, her eyes slipped closed, a soft plea leaving her lips as the kleviah screamed around her.
“Da eis misericordiam.”
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 4/7 to Spain.
6:27pm, May 12th, 2012.
Raya was falling.
Raya was falling.
Loki could only watch as her body was overrun with those terrible dragons, his eyes following her as her wings tried to open around her, only for a claw to tear through her scales.
Red light consumed the ball of flapping wings and bloodied scales, reminding him awfully of something akin to a meteor as it hurtled towards the sea.
He couldn’t breathe.
Her screams were reverberating through his skull like a cacophony of soliloquies crafted to tear something in his heart apart, and the moment the sea opened up to swallow her whole, the world went silent.
The boat rocked wildly under his feet as waves were sent crashing into the side of it, the impact of her hitting the water causing the ocean to rise as if in protest, churning beneath the mess of writhing bodies as they sunk deep under the surface.
A screech echoed from high above him and, fighting through the sudden wave of dread burning through him, Loki looked up to see what remained of the kleviah – maybe five or six that had broken off from the swarm – turning away from the boat, their backs rigid.
His magic flickered and died, the emerald, green light that had encapsulated the ship instantly dropping around him as he ran to the railing, his heart racing in his chest.
The crimson light was sinking deeper into the water, fading with each second that passed, and Loki wracked his brain, trying to come up with something, a spell, a curse, anything, because Raya couldn’t die.
He couldn’t let her die, she couldn’t leave him in her debt forever, she couldn’t-
Someone slammed down into the deck beside him, stumbling around in agony, and Loki flinched away from The Hulk as the boat rocked beneath him yet again, rolling his shoulder as exhaustion washed over him in waves.
He hadn’t used his magic so rigorously in a long while, and he was aware he would wear the marks of his overconfidence, but right now, that could not have mattered less.
His back stiffened as he eyed The Hulk nervously, his heart racing as his gaze darted between the dark seas and the green beast as it collapsed to the floor in pain, but then a flicker of electricity caught his attention as the storm around them began to die down.
Thor flew past his head, Mjolnir swinging quickly in his hand, and as he passed under the weak, electric lights, Loki could see that his face was tight with fear.
His stomach dropped as he saw Tony appear through the darkness, diving directly for the place Raya had disappeared, and he hated the strange, heavy feeling that was thrumming through his body, weighing him down as he stared hopelessly at the water.
He couldn’t do anything.
The red light below the water flickered once more and died.
“Death will not take my soul today. Of that, I am certain.”
She was a liar.
An inexplicable sense of rage flared within Loki’s chest, and his hands gripped the railing tightly as he kept his eyes fixed on the water as the shimmering lights on Tony’s suit disappeared beneath the waves.
Thor was hovering above the water, barely visible against the inky blackness, but Loki didn’t care, because he wasn’t doing anything; he had the means, but he was only waiting.
Waiting, and doing nothing, just like he was.
Loki slammed his hands into the railing out of frustration as he clenched his jaw, his own helplessness causing his chest to ache as he kept his eyes locked on the place Raya had fallen.
Why did he care so much? Why did it matter? He had broken promises to hundreds of beings before, allowed favours he’d taken from others to grow stale in the back of his mind, so why now did he care, why now, did it feel like he’d lost something?
It was stupid, and it didn’t make sense, but he felt it, and he despised the thoughts flooding his mind as he rubbed his eyes clear of the rain that was still falling around him.
The rain. That’s what it was. Just rain.
He fought off the burn in his eyes, ignoring the sound of a door slamming behind him, signalling Bruce’s exit from the deck, refocusing his gaze on the water.
Something shot out of the water, white lights cutting through the air as Tony sped along the ocean’s surface, and Loki hurriedly jumped back from the railing as he soared up towards the boat, his metal arms wrapped around a body.
Loki’s insides twisted with a sick mixture of devastation and relief as they touched down, and Tony was talking to something, his voice panicked as he rested Raya on the deck, his armour sizzling as he released her.
Her chest wasn’t moving.
“Jarvis, evaluate damages, now!” He said hurriedly, and Loki kept his distance from the man, even as his body called for him to rush forwards.
Patches of Raya’s skin was visible through her bodysuit, the flesh sliced open harshly along her sides, chest, wings, and as Loki’s eyes flicked up to her face, he couldn’t stop the quiet gasp of horror that slipped past his lips.
Three long gashes marred her skin just beside her right eye, and a fourth stretched over her eye, cleanly cutting through her eyebrow.
It was a miracle the kleviah had missed her eye.
“Third degree burns over majority of the body, sir.” The robot voice was saying, just as Thor landed back on the deck, and Loki clenched his fists as a shaky breath fell from his lips. “Severe damage to the skin, and waterlogged lungs. Heart rate at ten beats per minute and dropping rapidly. Suggested course of action: CPR and immediate hospitalisation.”
“Fuck!” Tony muttered, and Loki felt sickened as he watched Raya’s blood slowly seep over the metal beneath her, her eyes closed as her head tilted in the wind.
Loki remained still, his hand twitching at his side.
He couldn’t step in. That was weak. He had plenty of options, and he didn’t care about her death, or her life.
He didn’t care.
Tony’s hands were shaking, and Loki gritted his teeth as he watched the man’s mind race, trying to find an answer, the panic on his face making the dread in Loki’s chest grow that much heavier.
“Save her!” Thor’s voice cut through his panicked train of thought, and Loki’s eyes snapped up to him as his heart thundered in his chest, catching sight of his brother’s unusually dark glare. “Now, Loki!”
The relief that swept through him as left a bitter taste in his mouth as he stepped forwards, shoving Tony out of the way quickly as he dropped to his knees beside Raya, taking care to sigh irritably as he raised his hand over her mouth.
“I am surrounded by incompetence.” He muttered, but even as he grumbled, magic surged through his hand, green light immediately twisting from his fingertips and slipping in between her bloodied lips.
He told himself that he kept looking at her because he couldn’t let his guard down when he was surrounded by these people, and not because he was hoping to see any hint of life igniting in her face.
He mumbled under his breath in Asgardian, his tired body protesting as he focused on forcing the water from her lungs, and after a few tense moments, Raya’s body began to shake, and then she was coughing.
She was alive.
Saliva mixed with blood and water as the goddess’ eyes flew open, the grating sound of her heaving to force air into her lungs making Loki set his jaw with uncertainty, but then her dark eyes flicked up to meet his, and his half-formed worries dissipated instantly.
Alive.
Tony’s half cry of relief was muffled by the wind as the man hurriedly turned away, and as Thor let out a relieved sigh, Loki felt the boat sway beneath him, his arms aching as he struggled to stay upright,
It had been far too long since he’d practiced his magic, and to run headfirst into a battle of this magnitude…
Raya was still coughing as he collapsed beside her, his eyes blurring over slightly as he glanced towards her, swallowing hard to push down the immense feeling of relief swelling in his chest.
“Infallible.” Raya breathed as she looked over at him, the word rough and grating as it left her lips, and Loki blinked slowly at her as he tried to process what she meant.
Her eyes were so dark, dragging him in towards her like a magnet, and Loki couldn’t find the strength of will to force his gaze away as he watched her breathing stutter.
His fingers flicked towards her, relishing in the sigh of relief that spilled from her mouth as his magic glinted around her body, his breathing shaky as he pushed himself to focus on her.
The smaller marks along her skin began to seal themselves over, and as Raya’s head tipped back as a hiss of pain slipped from her lips, Loki’s gaze followed her, something like gratitude biting at him at the sight of her breathing.
“We are even, star.” He said quietly, more to himself than her, halfway hoping that the wind would steal away the soft syllables, but the glimmer of understanding in Raya’s eyes made him sure they had been heard.
He winced as his magic stung at his skin, forcing him to stop, but Raya’s eyes were already fluttering shut, her expression relaxing as she was lost to unconsciousness.
Loki’s eyes didn’t leave her bloodied face, and in the solitude of the moment, the tear that slipped from his eye was swept up into the wind, forever a secret only he would know.
Notes:
“Da eis misericordiam.”
“Give them mercy.”
Chapter 16: I Wouldn't Mind.
Summary:
WHAT'S UP GUYS! chapter 16, who cheered? (me).
Okay, so school is kicking my ass, and will be for the next two months or so, so I apologise profusely if i break my promise to upload once every month, its out of my hands for a while in the face of all my study.
anyway, I desperately hope that you like this chapter because some scenes had me actually screaming while writing them, and I hope you feel the same way (i adore these two loser gods who just want to be loved). I hope you're all okay, and again, i appreciate every comment, every bookmark, every kudos, because its all such good motivation to continue this! thank you, and love you all <3!
chapter title from i wouldn't mind by he is we.
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 5/7 to Spain.
3:27am, May 13th, 2012.
“The cleanup of New York City continues, with the Stark Foundation opening its doors to those in need, providing food and shelter to civilians across the city. Still missing since the battle of New York only days ago, there are no reliable sources who have been able to track down the heroes known as The Avengers-”
The steady beeping of the heart monitors to his right kept him hovering between sleep and wakefulness, and Steve tightened his hand on the arm of his chair as he forced himself upright.
Guilt was simmering deep in his stomach as he surveyed the two gods before him, their uncharacteristically peaceful expression illuminated by the TV in the corner of the room, and Steve felt as if he was intruding on their slumber; if they knew he was here, watching over them, they’d no doubt send him away.
Or burn him alive.
Steve shook his head to clear it of his own foolishness, his eyes settling on Loki’s face as the god’s brows furrowed, and the monitor beside his bed began beeping slightly faster.
Steve’s shoulders tightened, but as he went to rise, a cool voice made him freeze.
“It will pass. He does not want your help.”
Steve glanced back at Raya, and was surprised to see her watching him closely, her eyelids fluttering as if she was fighting to keep them open.
Steve tapped his fingers against the edge of his chair, itching to do anything other than wait for something bad to happen, but Raya’s voice had left no room for negotiation, and he slumped back in his seat.
He couldn’t exactly disagree with her. She had spent far more time with Loki than he had, and likely knew much more about what it was the god needed to survive, being one herself.
God.
His mind still fought against the term, reluctant to use it in the face of his faith, but he tried to quell those childish protests in his mind.
Their existence was evidence enough. He couldn’t dispute facts, no matter how much it grated on him.
“I hope I didn’t wake you.” Steve said quietly, but almost immediately Raya was shaking her head, her jaw clenching as she half raised her hand to silence him.
“Your heartbeats keep me from true sleep.” Her eyes remained on him as she spoke, her voice rough. “There is nothing to be done for that.”
Steve shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her stare, resting his hand on his knee as his gaze lifted to the TV in the far corner, catching quiet murmurings of the news.
“-strange reports of red lights flashing above New York City shortly after the attacks. Dr Foster has assured the public that the strange phenomenon was only that of an unscheduled meteor shower entering Earth’s atmosphere at a poor time, and-”
Steve glanced again over at Raya as he curled his fingers around his armchair, and found her staring, transfixed, at the TV screen, her expression laced with interest.
He let out a soft breath as he ran his hand through his hair as the words from the news report bounced around his head.
Whatever Tony’s people had paid off this Dr Foster, he hoped it was enough to ensure their silence for a very long time about the unusual heat signatures that had been emanating from New York’s skyline ever since Raya’s arrival.
There was so much to process in the future. Steve’s head hurt from lack of sleep, but he only sighed quietly to himself as he straightened up.
He had fought through worse pains, and the reassurance that the public remained heavily indifferent to their current trajectory comforted him slightly.
The less people that knew, the less trouble they would have with HYDRA trying to track them down during the midst of this beast vs goddess war.
His head hurt.
At the sound of metal creaking, Steve’s eyes flicked up to Raya’s bed to see her sitting up, her jaw clenched as the cuts down her sides were stretched taut with her movements.
He opened his mouth to tell her to rest, to lay back down in case her strangely half healed wounds split open again but decided against it as he watched her pat the bandages around her waist curiously.
He had no reason to annoy her. Even in her weakened state, Steve knew he was outmatched.
“This is a good idea.” She said, and when her eyes met his, Steve felt a surge of warmth rush through him at the clear wonder on her face. “The bleeding is much less.”
At the implication that the concept of a bandage was new to her, Steve felt his heart clench, but he only offered her a small smile as he nodded his head.
He knew what it was like to be shocked by the inventions here; since he’d woken up from the ice, he had been out of his depth when it came to the leaps and bounds of current technology, but a bandage wasn’t something he considered earthshattering.
“They’re pretty handy.” He agreed, and he watched Raya’s head tilt downwards as she carefully pulled the blanket around her body away.
He stifled the horrified breath that tried to slip from between his lips, but Raya only hummed in interest as she examined the harsh slashes along her legs, and Steve quickly looked away at the sight of her skin through tattered holes in her body suit.
He studied the TV as he heard her shuffling in the sheets, watching as a blurred photo of the New York skyline popped up beside a reporter’s head, the voices slightly distorted.
He didn’t look back down until he was certain Raya had settled back into her bed, and he found her already looking at him, her eyes shining with intrigue.
“Why are you here, Captain?” She said quietly, sitting up straight as her gloved hands folded before her.
Steve blinked, a chill settling over him as she examined him, and he cleared his throat nervously.
“I was assigned to be here. We’ve been moving in shifts-” He started, but as Raya subtly shook her head, the words died in his throat.
“No. Your mind sought out mine, and now we are here.” She said calmly, her expression intrigued as her hand lifted before her. “Your dreams pulled at my consciousness, and in my exhaustion, I could not resist.”
Steve watched as a grimace of discomfort crossed her face, and his eyes dropped to her palm as red light curled around her fingertips, forming a small scene bathed in crimson.
It was this room, but Steve could see himself, Raya and Loki all lying asleep, the monitors at their sides beeping softly.
As Steve felt his heart thundering in his chest, he realised the monitors matched the beats, and he could only stare in confusion as the red light dissipated around Raya’s fingertips.
“You are safe here.” Raya’s voice was softer now, her words still sharpened by her exhaustion, but as he looked back at her, the look in her eyes was almost kind. “Your fear is not misplaced, but you will not face death at my hand.”
Steve swallowed hard, unable to help the way his eyes darted over to Loki’s sleeping form, and whatever had softened Raya’s features disappeared as she followed his gaze.
“Nor his.” She said quietly as her fingers tapped against the edge of her bed, her face falling slightly. “He must rest.”
Again, the certainty in her voice allowed for no space to argue, and Steve simply nodded.
There was no use fighting her. He knew he’d lose before he rose from the chair, and he was so tired… it wasn’t worth the effort.
“Why did you want to speak with me?” Raya said, and Steve looked at her for a moment, his mind reeling for an answer.
He had no idea what she was talking about, but she was obviously saying what she believed to be true, so he couldn’t exactly rebut it-
In a second, it hit him, and Raya’s lips twitched as the thought crossed his mind, as if she could hear it too.
“Why can’t you lie?”
The words echoed strangely through his mind as Raya looked at him, but Steve knew better than to question why.
Entering people’s dreams wasn’t something he was particularly skilled at, and he wasn’t sure if he’d want to hear the explanation anyway.
“Cirica considers lying to be a cardinal sin.” The goddess said, sitting up slightly as she spoke. “The tortures for being untruthful are worse than death, and a disposition to being faithful is instilled in the newly birthed before their hundredth year.”
Steve watched as Raya’s features tightened, her fingers stilling on her gloves, and the TV flickered for a moment, the news caster’s voice disrupted by eerie screeching, before her eyes flicked up to meet his.
Anger. So much anger.
He could almost feel the heat of her rage as her gaze consumed him, his vision tunnelling into the fire behind her eyes, harsh and unrestrained.
The flames were swallowing him, searing at his skin, hands made of fire tearing at his face, smoke choking him, knives with melting blades thrust deep into his chest, his back, his stomach-
As Raya tore her eyes from him, the feelings disappeared immediately, and Steve was left breathless, gasping as the arm of his chair shattered under the grip of his hand.
“I learnt in a far more forceful manner.” Raya said, her voice quiet, embers of her anger burnt into each syllable as the words left her lips. “Lying was an unnecessary activity; what could we have to hide from our Empress?”
The word ‘dictatorship’ tore through Steve’s mind, and Raya’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t question it, and he did not feel up to explaining it, his hands still trembling slightly out of fear.
The arm of his chair flickered with red light on the floor, mending itself immediately, and he tried to regain himself, nodding in acknowledgement of her words.
“It is a mental block that will not allow me to lie, and I have no intention of finding out what breaks it.” Raya continued, her voice firm. “Your team must simply ask anything they wish to know, or order me to comply, and you will have your answers.”
As Steve met her eyes, he realised she was waiting for him to speak, and he quickly straightened up as he swallowed hard, trying to find his next words.
“What did you mean when you told Natasha her extended lifespan wouldn’t protect her yesterday?”
The thought formed in his mind and had left his lips before he had been truly aware of it, almost as it had been pulled from him, and a hint of a smile lightened Raya’s expression as she gazed at him.
“Her body, it thrums with the same power as yours.” She said calmly, and Steve blinked in confusion as he considered her words. “I suppose there are secrets hidden even amongst your own team, Captain.”
Raya’s eyes were soft as they held his gaze, and Steve felt strangely at ease as she spoke, an odd sense of warmth sweeping through him as she tilted her head at him.
Her presence was overwhelming in the most comforting way, and the longer he looked into her eyes, the more he saw; swirling galaxies and bloodied piles of bodies, glittering stars and fields of red sand, and something that spoke of knowledge he would never truly understand.
A goddess personified, sitting before him, somehow dangerous and gentle all at once, and the echoing of the rapidly beating monitors evened out slowly as he breathed in.
“You don’t have to call me Captain.” He said quickly, the words flowing freely from him, and Raya’s features tightened with confusion. “That’s my rank, but you can just call me Steve.”
Her eyes glittered with red light as they met his, but she simply nodded to him, and he let out a breath of relief, though he wasn’t quite sure why.
Despite what he knew her to be, what he had seen from her, Steve couldn’t find it within himself to feel scared anymore.
Before he could say anything else, Loki twisted in his bed, a harsh breath escaping him as the monitor attached to him began to beep faster yet again, and Raya’s brow furrowed as her eyes finally left his.
“No.” She murmured softly, her palm lifting towards Loki’s head, and Steve watched as red light flickered around her fingertips, glittering in the light cast from the TV as it floated towards the god’s face.
The air shifted as a quiet grunt of pain slipped from Raya’s lips, presumably at the effort of using her magic – Steve could practically feel his head spinning from his own disbelief – and for a moment, the magic formed into another shape ghosting along Loki’s cheek.
A hand.
Steve’s eyes felt strangely heavy as he watched Loki lean into the touch, and as the god breathed in, the red light slipped between his lips and disappeared.
The monitor’s beeping slowed, and Steve’s eyes drifted over to Raya, catching sight of the mix of contemplation and uncertainty that flitted across her features as she stared down at Loki’s face.
Steve couldn’t stifle the yawn that slipped from him as his sleep laden gaze flicked between them, and he could hear something in his mind telling him that Raya’s actions were important, but warmth was swelling in his chest, and he couldn’t quite make out his own thoughts.
“Requiem facilis.”
Steve looked up, breaking free of his wandering mind to see Loki’s features soften just as Raya closed her gloved hand.
He wasn’t sure what she was saying, but her tone was gentle, her words almost like a lullaby he barely remembered, and he blinked slowly as he stared over at her.
“Rest, Steve.” The goddess said softly, and Steve found himself nodding along to her words, his thoughts moving sluggishly as he watched flames dance in her eyes. “The guilt that weighs heavily on your heart is unnecessary. Do not let it steal your sleep from you.”
Steve tried to open his mouth to speak, but his mouth wouldn’t move. His body was far too heavy, and he felt his eyelids flutter shut against his own will, but he still did not feel afraid.
She couldn’t lie.
Strangely, Loki’s words from a few days prior swept through his mind as his head tilted back against the back of his chair.
“For whatever moronic reason, she has only tried to save your pathetic lives!”
Steve wasn’t sure why the harsh words made his body settle, but he didn’t fight the rising wave of tiredness as it washed over him.
His eyes opened for a moment, and as he felt his consciousness slipping from him, he could see Raya gazing down at Loki’s still form, her eyes narrowed in something akin to mystification.
Darkness crept in around him, faltering embers shimmering in the corners of his vision before sleep finally stole him away.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 5/7 to Spain.
11:34 am, May 13th, 2012.
The heat tore through Raya’s chest, familiar but far from comforting, and as her throat tore, blood spilling over her lips with the molten flames, her weary mind was forced back into consciousness.
She hacked up boiling blood, the blankets beneath her burning brightly, and as smoke began to coil around her wrists, she looked around frantically, her body tensed and ready to face the threat.
She was met with Loki’s cold stare, and the fear began to ebb away, giving way to the stinging pains erupting along her skin as she became more aware of herself.
“The threat of my mere presence once again overwhelms you.” Loki’s voice drawled, cruel and taunting, but Raya could barely hear his words over the harsh pain thudding in her head.
She merely nodded, rubbing her hand against her throat and feeling her lungs protest as she slowly breathed in.
At the edges of her mind, Raya felt a subtle tug, as if something was trying to drag her forwards by her shattered thoughts, but she squeezed her eyes shut against the dull ache in an attempt to push it away.
Raya forced herself to swallow the bile in her throat, her other hand sinking into the mess of blood and cooling energy beneath her, and she winced as the heat of it seeped into her body suit, pulsing up her arm and pressing into her skin.
When she next looked up, her eyelids fluttering open fully, she caught Loki looking down at her stomach, his expression displeased.
The stinging pain only increased, and she was reminded of the way the klevia’s talons had buried themselves under her ribs as they slashed at her, but as she glanced down, she couldn’t see anything unusual.
She raised an eyebrow at Loki, and as he hurriedly looked away, his expression melting into a scowl, she let out a breath of relief.
She didn’t allow herself to appear weak, simply allowing the pain in her ribs to grow more intense, her hands resting at her sides, perfectly still as she felt her skin stitching itself back together.
A few hours, and she would be primed for another battle. Perhaps her body would not be at its best, but that would not mean much in the grand scheme of things.
Bones would always heal, skin would always seal itself back together, but to fail a mission would stick to her forever.
“Morning, kid.” A voice said from the doorway, and Raya’s head quickly turned towards it, her eyes burning as pain seared through her skull.
Tony was leaning against the door frame, two cups in his hands, and she eyed him nervously as he straightened up, an awfully gentle smile on his face.
He was pitying her, she knew it, he had to be. He was here to admonish her, no doubt; the fact that she had been pulled from the water was horrific, especially since it had been entirely her fault that she had gone down at all.
She had gotten distracted, and had been hurt because of it; now, she was being forced to watch the humans try and quell the disgust she felt burning through her at her weakness.
When she glanced towards Loki, she was glad to see him glaring back at her, the look in his eyes seeming to confirm every thought she had, as cold and unyielding as they were.
“Here.” Tony said, and Raya turned to him as he sat beside her, trying to pass her the cup, which she now realised was full of some hot liquid. “It’ll help.”
The pale drink smelled like the damp dirt under her hands when she had fought with the klevia in the forest, yet carried some hint of something she didn’t know; it almost reminded her of the scent that followed Natasha around, a sweet and fresh breath of air.
The heat emanating from it momentarily calmed her, and as she inhaled deeply, her slightly trembling hands carefully tightened around the cup, applying the barest pressure to the sides.
It was so delicate.
She narrowed her eyes at the cup, cradling it in her hands as she watched Tony sip from the other, and she let out a grunt of confusion.
“There is only two.” Her voice was rough, the syllables broken by the scars she knew were still tender in her oesophagus, but though it hurt to speak, she knew she needed to acknowledge his words.
Those in power did not take kindly to being ignored, and she did not want to give him another reason to torture her with this sickening sweetness.
Tony looked at her for a moment, his lips pursing into a line, and then he nodded, lowering his cup to rest in his lap.
“Yes, there is.” He said, and she didn’t understand why his features seemed confused.
She looked over to Loki, catching the moment he looked away from the cup resting in her hands, and set her jaw.
Why was she offered this and not Loki? She knew all things to be unfair, but he had risked himself just as much as she had. It didn’t make sense, but she supposed nothing here truly made sense.
She held out the cup to Tony, locking her gaze on his, and as she gestured for him to take it, she murmured,
“Drink.”
Her words were harsh, but her skull was thrumming with pain, and she did not care much what might happen to her. If they beat her into submission, perhaps she would finally be allowed to truly sleep.
Tony looked back at her, his expression still holding far too much of that pitying emotion, and sipped the drink, and Raya’s eyes followed the heated liquid as it flowed down his throat, waiting until it had disappeared, before she reached out to pull the drink from his hands.
She waited a few moments, examining the calm look on Tony’s face, and once she was satisfied, she turned towards Loki and placed the cup on the small table that sat between them, pushing it gently towards his side.
She did not keep her eyes on him, merely sparing him a cursory glance before turning back towards Tony, resting her hands on top of her thighs to try and will the residual heat from the drink into her aching side.
She didn’t need it, this small drink. She would heal easily, and she did not deserve its warmth.
Loki hadn’t done anything wrong. He had protected the ship when she couldn’t, and he’d pulled water from her lungs when he could have let her drown in her weaknesses.
He deserved the treatment they gave her so easily.
Raya heard Loki huff with irritation, but she didn’t turn to look at him, her focus on Tony as he slowly sipped his own drink, and she simply waited for him to make the reasons for his presence known.
Tony twisted his cup in his hands, swallowing the sip of his drink as his eyes flitted between her and Loki, but Raya kept her eyes steadfastly locked on his face.
It was not a weakness. It was only what was necessary.
“We’re getting close to Spain now.” He said, as if that should mean anything to her, but Raya nodded anyway. “We’ve got a day, maybe two, left before we hit the shore. We’ve got reason to suspect that your kleviah have found a nesting ground there.”
Raya stiffened, her hands fisting in the burned sheets beneath her, and as Tony caught sight of her reaction, his face tightened, but his voice was soft when as he continued.
“This time, you’ll be going in with us when we touch the ground. We’re not leaving this up to chance.” His tone was strange, like he was attempting to quell the uncertainty he surely had no idea about, and Raya didn’t bother to nod now, simply listening. “But we don’t know exactly where they are hiding, at least not yet. Natasha has called ahead to several bases, but something is interfering with our signal.”
“I will be able to help track them.” Raya said quickly, swallowing the pain burning through her side as she felt a muscle stretch and shift back into place under her skin. “Their scent will be easy enough to follow.”
Tony made a noise in the back of his throat, his hands now fidgeting with a small box, his cup resting on his knee as he surveyed her, a small smile on his lips.
“Good. We’ll need you desperately, if that last fight was any indication.” Tony said, and his voice was lighter now as he opened the box. “We got lucky that they disappeared when they did.”
Raya watched as a bright light flickered out from the box, taking on the form of a square, and as the screen shimmered before her, Raya fought the urge to reach up and run her hand through it.
Her brow creased slightly as his words registered in her mind. The kleviah were ruthless and relentless. Surely, nothing could have deterred them from their course, not unless they had believed her to truly be dead.
It didn’t make sense.
“Look, kid. We’ve found evidence that your people may have visited Earth before, and even though we’ve got no idea of understanding how, we can guess roughly when.” Tony was saying, and Raya’s head snapped up to watch the screen flash, and words appeared, lines upon lines of text descending down the white background.
Raya’s eyes burned, and her chest tightened, but she did not speak, confusion mixing with apprehension in her stomach as she blinked quickly and looked away.
“My people?” She said incredulously, and she felt, rather than saw, Loki straighten up in the bed beside her. “How can you be sure?”
“We can’t be.” Tony continued, clicking several buttons on the small box before placing it on the bed beside her. “But Roman myths have talked about gods with powers similar to your own in great detail, and if Caesar over here is real, anything is possible.”
Raya glanced over at Loki as Tony gestured towards him and was certain that the perplexed expression on his face mirrored her own as she tried to understand the man’s words.
It sounded like an insult, but perhaps it wasn’t? It was very difficult to tell with Tony; his voice flowed in and out, sometimes putting emphasis on words that didn’t make much sense, and lengthening pauses between words as if he was waiting for… something.
When she looked back at Tony, the man’s slight smile faded, and he let out an exasperated sigh, swirling his drink around in his hand.
“Right. Not of this world and all that.” He murmured, only causing her eyes to narrow as she struggled to comprehend it, before he waved a hand in front of him as if to clear the air. “Anyway, this is what we’ve found so far; honestly, it’s not much, but we’ve got agents scouring databases and websites for more as we speak.”
Raya stared at him for a moment, her mind spinning from his words, before slowly nodding her head, her features tight.
What is a website?
Tony looked back at her, and the laugh that left his lips only served to confuse her more as she watched him get to his feet.
“I’m just here to update you. For now, your only job is to rest. You’ve got healing to do.” His voice was firm, and Raya felt her body go rigid as the order took hold of her, and she immediately tipped back to rest against the mattress again.
Tony’s gaze was tinted with something like sadness, but Raya only furrowed her brows at him, relief flaring in her as she felt her muscles begin to relax against her will.
Even if she didn’t understand why, she could follow this order. It would be easy.
“Same goes for you, Grease Lightning.” Tony said, his voice laced with a taunt, his head tilted towards Loki as he bent to open the table at Raya’s bedside to pull out a blanket and place it at her feet. “Rest, read up, and play nice.”
Loki let out an annoyed huff, glowering at Tony as he moved towards the door, but Raya nodded quickly, hoping to counteract his disrespect with her obedience.
“I have the files pulled up on the phone, so they’ll just continually project for you and update as we find additional information.” Tony said, pointing towards the box on her bed and the glittering screen above it. “If you find something you want to go over with me, just double tap the screen, and it will save it.”
Raya raised her hand tentatively towards the shimmering light, and sure enough, at the point where her fingers should have slipped right through, they met resistance, and she watched as the screen rolled before her as she flicked her finger up.
“That is… strange.” Raya said softly, interest swirling around inside her as she pressed her fingers against the screen yet again before her instincts kicked back in. “We shall do as you ask.”
Tony nodded to her, raising his cup in an acknowledgement of her words, a smile on his lips as he moved to leave the room.
“We’ve gotta enhance your vocabulary, kid. Get some better descriptors in there.” He said, and something in his tone made her think he was joking, but she nodded curtly anyway.
Then, he was gone, and Raya shifted her gaze back to the flickering screen before her, her fingers carefully tracing under the words that lined the whiteness of it, confused at the ease of which it moved under her hand.
So enchanted Raya was by the technology, that she didn’t notice the green eyes lingering on her every movement, or the way Loki’s lips curled into a subtle smile as he took a sip from the drink she’d given up for him.
She didn’t notice the way his features flickered and tightened once again as a hint of bright blue danced in his gaze.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 5/7 to Spain.
2:52 pm, May 13th, 2012.
Raya was tapping her fingers again.
Gentle touches against her knee as she stared up at the words before her, and Loki didn’t want to notice anymore.
Stark had set this off, this nervous habit of hers, and it was so annoying, so, so annoying that he couldn’t stop getting distracted by it.
One tap, and then a soft exhale from her mouth as she leaned closer to the screen, her eyes narrowing.
Loki hated this lingering feeling of worry that stuck to his chest, suffocating him with its relentlessness, choking him whenever he caught sight of the cuts that marred Raya’s skin. It did not make sense, and it vexed him so completely to be at the mercy of something so vile and all consuming.
Two taps, and then Raya looked away from the screen, eyelids squeezing shut, and Loki had forced himself to focus on the separate screen before him, idly scrolling through a piece about the Colosseum and how it was used by the ancient mortals.
He’d read more than he’d wanted and was becoming increasingly irritated at how interesting this part of Midgardian history was. They were stupid, empty-headed beings, and it was almost idiotic to believe they could have ever built something so…
Three taps, and then Raya’s body was turning towards his, leaning off the edge of her bed to study the picture of the Colosseum that had appeared on his screen.
He bristled at her attention, a flash of annoyance burning through him as he chastised himself for noticing her. He didn’t care what she did, she just shouldn’t be getting closer to him, looking at his things, being in his head like this-
“What do you want?” He said, his words clipped and sharp, and as her empty eyes drifted over to his, a hint of something almost like guilt flitted through him.
She didn’t look shocked at his harsh tone, and Loki knew she wouldn’t be, but he despised how it made him feel to speak like that. He couldn’t explain the feeling, as awful and filthy as it was, almost like he was a bystander as words left his lips with the intention to irritate and aggravate.
Raya, however, barely seemed to hear him as she examined the photo on the screen, and Loki couldn’t decide how that made him feel.
He didn’t understand any of the emotions crashing through him, and he fought to keep his enraged confusion off his face.
“I know that place.” Raya’s voice was quiet, her words rough around the edges from the strain of speaking, and Loki snapped out of his whirling thoughts. “The Hematite Ring. Where our gladiators fought to join our armies, and the unjust had their fates decided.”
The goddess’ hand slipped down to her throat, clasping the necklace that rested just above her clavicle, as if to emphasise her point, but Loki only narrowed his eyes at her.
He hated the way his hand clenched when she looked at him, her expression so open, so honest. She shouldn’t be this forthcoming, not at all, and especially not with him.
“I fought there many times.” Raya continued, his silence apparently taken as an offer to go on, and Loki shifted as he looked at her, watching as memories crinkled the corners of her eyes. “It is a place of triumph and victory, where my people earned their titles, and where I earned mine.”
Loki followed her movements as she flipped over what he now realised was a ring hanging off the chain around her neck, his eyes flicking up to see her jaw tightening.
“They have it here. Praetor.” She said quietly, and Loki was surprised to hear the slight waver in her words as she gestured towards the screen. “Commander of the Cirian army and all their military powers.”
She was barely talking to him, her gaze unfocused as she rolled the band of metal between her fingers, but Loki couldn’t come up with a reason to stop gazing at her, even as his hands clenched in the blankets beneath him.
“Lovely. Your people are less advanced than the meagre might of the mortals.”
He said the words, and they tasted so bitter in his mouth, staining his tongue with poison as he forced himself to look away from her, his chest aching horribly.
Raya merely hummed in agreement, and Loki stared into the screen, watching her reflection in the strange screen as he fought against the bile rising in his throat.
She hadn’t done anything. She hadn’t even looked at him. Perhaps that was best, maybe it was better to shut down her words, to get her to be quiet and leave him alone, because she shouldn’t be bothering with him at all.
No, she shouldn’t be bothering him. Every breath she took was an annoyance. It was embarrassing, the lengths she took to get his attention, rambling about nonsense he didn’t care to hear again and again-
“I suppose the humans have surpassed us.” Raya mused, wholly unaware of his internal struggle, her soft voice drifting up to meet his ears and sending guilt clawing through his nerves. “They are all so very… different. It is…”
Raya’s face screwed up as she searched for the right phrase, and once again, Loki felt that irritating flicker of warmth in his chest as he stared up at her reflection in the screen.
“Nice is not the right word.” She said frustratedly, and Loki simply shrugged his shoulders as he fidgeted with the kenaz marking on his armour to try and draw his focus away from her as she let out an irritated sigh. “It does not matter. I have never seen such individuality before. All my people are the same. We follow the same commands. Humans do not.”
Loki felt the moment her eyes rested on him, and he fought against every compulsion he had to meet her gaze, scrolling mindlessly through the words before him.
He could practically hear her thoughts, could hear her wondering how it worked for him, but he did not speak, his throat tight as he forced himself to swallow.
Raya seemed unphased by his silence, and as she turned back to her screen, Loki’s eyes darted to her, catching the moment her eyes squinted up at the words, her mouth twisting uncomfortably.
He’d seen her do that at least a hundred times over the past few hours, seen her turn away from the words as if they’d burnt her, as if she couldn’t bear to look at them.
“Must you shy away from words? Is there some sort of difficulty stopping you from reading, or are you just simply enamoured by every little picture you see?”
He hated it, hated himself, as he watched as a hint of pained confusion steal over Raya’s features for the first time, but he couldn’t take the words back.
Loki saw the moment she fought against her compulsion to tell the truth, just a brief second of something like shame dancing in her eyes as they locked on his, but it was gone in an instant.
“I am not accustomed to extensive reading.” She said quietly, and her words were falling from her lips, smooth and carefully even, a simple truth. “My eyes ache from it, and the words move across the screen as if to escape my gaze. It does not come easily to me.”
Raya’s head was bowed as she looked away from him, and Loki hated the way the sight of vulnerability on her expression made his heart clench.
“You aren’t serious.” Loki said, his voice horribly harsh, and the disgusted judgment slipped far too easily into his words. “Surely, you are not that stupid.”
Hurt flickered to life in her dark eyes, but it was not joined by the now familiar flames of her rage, and that somehow made the ache in Loki’s chest worse.
He could deal with anger, he relished in it, revelled in causing annoyance and discontentment, but the look on Raya’s face held none of those things.
All it held was pain.
“My intelligence has nothing to do with it.” She said simply, her hands resting on her knees as she crossed her legs before her. “I was simply not taught above what was required. There is only a need for simple terms in battle.”
Regret bubbled up and overflowed from his burning heart, but Loki didn’t allow his features to shift from their irritated expression, trying his hardest to ignore the waves of guilt that threatened to drown him in his own mind.
“So have you learnt nothing in the time that has passed us since we were assigned this task?” Loki muttered, shooting her a sharp look that he wished he could take back. “Have you been staring absentmindedly into space while I have been reading through works that are supposed to explain you?”
He spat the last word, hateful and harsh, infused with his anguish at his own confusing emotions as he met her blank gaze.
Raya didn’t look upset, but she never truly did, so Loki had no clue how his words had affected her. Nor did he care.
“I have retained any information that has reminded me of my planet, our customs and our culture, and saved it to validate it with the Avengers.” Raya answered, her voice breaking slightly with the strain of speech, and Loki didn’t let himself feel bad. “However, it is growing more difficult to hold the facts within my mind. The written word was useless in the face of verbal instructions during war.”
Loki scoffed, disdain spewing from his lips like acid, tearing at his features and forcing them to tighten in displeasure as he shook his head.
“A mindless soldier with no talents beside wielding your fists.” He said, hating the words, hating the fact that he couldn’t stop them, but relishing in them all the same. “How perfectly mundane.”
Raya was watching him, and though he felt like tearing out his own tongue, though he waited for the angry strike of her palm to his face, just as Natasha had done, she did not move.
Her eyes were searching his face, awe lacing her features, and Loki shifted uncomfortably as remorse twisted in his stomach.
“You speak your truth so freely.” She breathed, the words grating against him in a way he didn’t understand. “And you choose to speak it, with no fear of reprimand.”
A compliment, a statement she believed.
It angered him, her indifference. It made him feel as if he was screaming into an abyss, surrounded by nothing but darkness, his voice unheard and lost to the wind.
He hated it.
Loki found he had no words to respond, so thrown by the sincerity in her voice that he could barely think straight, feeling sick to his very soul as she turned away yet again.
“I am well aware of my failings.” Raya said quietly and Loki could see her shifting to lay back in bed out of the corner of his eye. “I did not wish to upset you.”
Loki let out a harsh breath, his eyes narrowed as he glared up at the screen before him, tension tightening the air around him as he slowly sat up straight.
Silence followed her words, but a quick glance at Raya showed her calm expression as she gazed up at the words shining before her, and Loki felt his anger begin to ebb away.
Though every part of his being fought against the words that blossomed in his mind, he couldn’t keep them from slipping from his mouth, gripping the sheets under him tightly as he murmured,
“Would it help to hear the information aloud?”
Raya’s head turned towards him again, and this time, he let himself meet her eyes, fighting away the memory of the night before, when he had laid beside her and pleaded for her to live.
His mind felt so heavy with emotions he couldn’t understand as he recalled it, and he was so distracted that he barely heard her whispered,
“Yes. It would.”
Loki cleared his throat, a sigh of annoyance masking his willingness, and he scrolled back up to where he had noticed her begin to lose focus.
“Where did you give up?” He asked, his voice still firm, and Raya’s answer was immediate as she continued to stare at him, her eyes on him so intently making his skin prickle.
“The children of Discordia.” She said quickly, her head tilting back to rest against the pillows beneath her, and Loki didn’t allow himself to think about the way the muscles in her neck tensed with the movement. “There were fourteen, but I only recognise one; Dysnomia.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of red dancing through her pupils, and she shook her head as if to ward off a bad memory.
“I do not remember why.”
Loki nodded stiffly, searching for the page, and as he found it, he took in a soft breath, steeling himself for his next actions.
“Pay attention. Do not remain useless.” He muttered, and as his eyes flicked up to catch Raya’s subtle nod, he forced away the sick mix of emotions swirling in his stomach.
Raya’s hands rested gently over her stomach, her back impossibly straight as she laid still, and Loki watched as her eyes drifted closed, most likely to help her focus.
A jolt of something, something foreign and soft, shook him at the sight of the relaxed expression on her face, and for a moment, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from her.
Here she was, letting him see her at her weakest state, her body vulnerable and her mind calm, even after all his harsh, undeserved words, wishing for him to teach her, just as he had been teaching her to control her magic.
Something strange itched at the back of his mind at the thought of his voice being her sole point of focus, but he pushed it away, blinking quickly to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand.
Loki’s voice was smooth and clear as he spoke, lowering it so much so that he was certain only Raya would hear it. No one else could overhear him doing this, that would be horrifying, even if he was only doing it to combat her own inability.
Only doing it for her.
“Discordia had no need for a partner to give birth to her children, personified forces of evil no less awful than herself. Her most well-known children are as follows: Hysminae (“Combats”), Machae (“Battles”), Dysnomia (“Lawlessness”) …”
Minutes bled into hours, and Loki felt himself relaxing easily into the familiar action; he was used to speaking for people, used to telling stories and keeping his audiences enthralled with his simple words.
Each time he found it within himself to glance over at Raya, she was always watching him with that same awed expression, enraptured by every word that fell from his lips, and every time, it sent the same strangely comforting shiver of pride through him.
Loki only truly paused once he realised the sun had disappeared from the sky, the room around them steadily growing darker as he read, and his words came to a slow stop as his eyes found Raya’s yet again.
He was surprised by her softened expression as she gazed at him, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to hold her head up, but just in the few moments that he looked at her, her head tilted forwards into her hand as tiredness eased itself into her features.
“Do not stop.”
The words were quiet, barely a whisper as they floated up to meet his ears, and Loki had to fight against the urge to do a double take as he blinked at her in shock, tilting his head in a silent question, making sure he’d heard her right.
“Do not stop.” Raya said again, her voice slightly firmer this time, but there was no order behind the words. They were a plea.
Another beat of silence as he stared at her, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, the next word came, a mere breath of air, hardly even a word as she looked up at him imploringly.
“…please.”
There were so many emotions, too many for him to handle, and Loki pushed them far away as he gave her a quick nod of understanding, forcing his expression to remain blank as he stared down at her.
With each word that fell from his lips as he continued, Raya’s blinks became slower, and then her hand slipped out from beneath her head, her cheek pressing into the pillow beneath her as sleep took hold of her body.
Loki didn’t stop speaking until her breathing deepened, the soft whistling as she exhaled through her nose, and the steady beating of the heart monitors replacing the sound of his voice as he carefully reached over to shut down the screen still hovering over her.
Raya did not stir as Loki leaned back in his own bed, shifting to get more comfortable even as his stomach roiled with uncertain feelings and an awful warmth, and he gazed down at her, his eyes narrowing as he took in her sleeping form.
The soft electric light above them danced along her curved jaw, whisps of her loose hair resting against her scarred skin as her shoulders lifted with each breath she took, and the thought that crossed Loki’s mind as he looked down at her made him feel as if he’d been struck by lightning.
She’s trusting me.
Against his own will, against his better judgement, a small voice inside his mind whispered that he didn’t mind that at all.
*
Universe 724, Cirica.
9:34 pm, May 13th, 2012.
The shadows cast across the walls around her provided the perfect cover as she slipped through the castle halls, and Hylira kept her breathing even as she crossed the threshold into the Great Hall.
No one was here to find her. Everyone was dead.
The Empress wouldn’t ever know. She wouldn’t miss the statue.
Hylira pulled her gloves up her arms as she listened to the soft whistling of the wind, fixing her mask around her face as her eyes scanned the room quickly.
She did not feel fear, but adrenaline was thrumming through her veins as she slowly approached the statue of their leader, raising her hand to press it against the stone.
Praetor Hysminae.
Hylira ignored the burning in her eyes as she watched golden flames dance around Raya’s face, anger sending heat searing through her nerves as the stone began to crack under her hand.
The Empress couldn’t miss a daughter she had cast out herself.
Her eyes flicked across the inscription along the bottom on the statue as she carved it from the wall, her gaze hardening.
Filia noctis et prima lux ignis, e claritate sideris.
The daughter of the night and the first light of fire, from the brightness of the stars.
Hylira gritted her teeth as she glanced quickly over her shoulder, tensing her arms as she began to tear away the lingering pieces of stone, keeping her mouth firmly shut even as a hiss of pain threatened to slip through her lips at the heat surging through her.
Their princess wouldn’t react this way. She would burn through the stone with no hesitation, her eyes darkened by her concentration, perfectly silent, intently focused.
With that thought echoing through her mind, Hylira forced herself to reach over the statue’s head as she cut away the stone, catching the fallen pieces and gently placing them on the ground.
The edges were seared, but they did not melt under her touch. Not like they would with their princess.
The statue fell forwards into her arms as she quickly muttered an incantation, and it instantly shrunk to fit the palm of her hand.
Hylira carefully placed the statue into the bag over her shoulder, pressing it into the soft material Alis had found her earlier. The only leaves that had survived the turn of the stars now rested in her bag, cradling their princess’ stony form.
The Children of Dysnomia would not wait for much longer. She needed to run, to escape this place before the worst could happen. It wasn’t likely that the Empress would leave the throne room, but there was always a possibility.
The throne room.
Hylira could feel the energy pulsing through the marble floors, shifting under her feet no matter how slowly she moved, no matter how careful she was.
When she had taken this mission, the mission to retrieve their true Empress’ artefact, she had known the risks. She had known that death was more than too possible this close to the Empress, but she had said yes.
Her allegiance to her faith, to their princess, was too strong to ignore.
She crept past the throne room, her heart hammering in her chest, too loud, too much, and even though there was no movement from the other side of the door, she did not allow herself a breath of relief until the sound of the thrumming energy had faded.
It was a long trek back to the outskirts of the city, and where the Empress became less of a danger, the kleviah hovered in the skies, searching for people like her.
One of the only living rebels left after their leader’s fall from grace.
There was only eerie silence left in her wake as she quickly slipped between columns and archways, and Hylira gripped the bag close to her chest as her yellow eyes searched the skies.
Eight days since the failed coronation. Eight days since the usurper had cast aside their only hope.
Eight days since the light of the rebellion had died.
Their princess’ sacrifice would not be in vain.
Chapter 17: Born Hungry.
Summary:
HEYYYYYY GUYS!!! Guess who's been drowning in stress, school work and keeping herself mentally stable??? ME, correct! anyway, school exams (big, huge ones that matter a lot unfortunately) approach, so the next chapter might take even longer to come out, but I promise I'm fighting to keep to my one month = one chapter schedule! Thank you, as always, for your comments, bookmarks, kudos and the way i've had several people sending me entire paragraphs of analysis on these guys and the storyline, I LOVE YOU! It keeps me going, and keeps me motivated <3
Stay safe, drink water, sleep well, and enjoy this chapter, because things are amping up now :) the plot starts becoming more convoluted, I'M SO EXCITED!
chapter title from abbey - mitski
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 6/7 to Spain.
1:47 am, May 14th, 2012.
“Do you think she drinks from people like a vampire? Like her teeth are a straw, and her victims are a Caprisun?”
“The way your brain works is horrifying, Silas.”
Sunnie jerked awake, looking around blearily as she heard her friends talking in whispers, and she groaned as she let go of her pencil, the drawing beneath her smudged by her cheek.
Damnit.
“Welcome back, Sun.” Isabella said quietly to her right, hardly looking up from the monitor before her. “Please make them to shut up, it’s been over half an hour.”
Sunnie rubbed her aching temples as she straightened up, her back cracking from her slumped position against the desk.
“Vampires don’t drink through their teeth, that’s an outdated misconception.” Sunnie muttered, blinking slowly as her eyes adjusted on the soft glow of the computers around her. “They pierce the skin, then suck the blood out.”
“Have you met a vampire personally and asked? If no, you can’t prove shit.” Silas said, and Sunnie heard both Isabella and Ace sigh in exasperation.
“Raya isn’t a vampire.” Ace countered, crossing his legs under him as he turned in his chair to face Silas. “Haven’t you been paying attention to anything she’s been saying? She’s more like a dragon.”
Silas’ eye roll made Sunnie reach for her water bottle, trying to fight against her urge to speak up, and Isabella chuckled, finally turning to look at her, a gentle smile on her lips.
“I wish they would just fucking kiss already.” Sunnie grumbled under her breath, glancing over at the two boys. “Maybe it’d shut them up long enough for me to sleep.”
Isabella, who had just taken a sip from her water bottle, choked as a laugh forced its way from her throat, and Sunnie smiled as the girl slapped the table, trying to cover her mouth.
Both Ace and Silas looked up at the girl’s coughing fit, and Sunnie caught the way Ace’s cheeks flushed, barely visible in the dim light but present nevertheless.
Silas’ eyes were narrowed in confusion as Isabella righted herself, his mouth opening in question, but Sunnie quickly switched the topic, rolling herself closer to Isabella to pull up the vitals onto her screen.
“How have they been?” She asked quickly, and Isabella, wiping her eyes as a smile tugged at her lips, easily snatched the mouse away from her.
“They’re fine. Heartrates have been steady; Loki’s only spiked for a few minutes at 12 before he was back in REM sleep. Nightmares were easily subdued for him, apparently.” Isabella said, flicking through the recordings as she shrugged. “Raya’s has been at 34 for the last few hours.”
Sunnie hummed in acknowledgement of her words, reaching forwards to open the saved footage from the med bay.
“I don’t think he’s fighting them off.” Sunnie said, and when Isabella gave her a questioning look, she gestured to the screen. “Just wait. I’m pretty sure Raya is keeping him asleep.”
“Room temp raised by about three degrees around 12.” Ace chimed in, twirling in his chair as he buried his hand into a bag of chips. “Stopped after a second though, so it could be nothing.”
“With the goddess of chaos, I really feel like we shouldn’t underestimate how easy it would be for her to use her magic.” Silas said, sliding across the floor in his chair, and burying his hand into the chip packet in Ace’s hand.
Sunnie caught the way the Ace’s eyes widened at the other boy’s sudden closeness, and she bit back a chuckle as she turned back to the screen, beginning to scroll through the footage.
A flash of red light caught her eye, and she paused the footage, capturing the image before her in her mind; Raya, looking down at Loki’s sleeping form, her fingers extended towards his twisted features, energy glowing in midair between them.
“There.” She murmured, a smile slipping onto her lips as she felt all three of her friends press in around her. “Now, he’s restless, but…”
She clicked play on the screen, and as the footage continued to roll, Raya’s red light slipped between Loki’s parted lips, and his tensed body relaxed immediately, his expression shifting into something more peaceful.
“Yep, heartrate stabilised that same second.” Ace confirmed, glancing over at his computer, and Sunnie smiled as she watched Raya simply continue to stare at Loki, her brows furrowed in confusion.
“Why would she help him?” Isabella asked, her hands resting on Sunnie’s shoulders as she leaned closer to the screen, and she shrugged.
“I really don’t think she hates him.” Sunnie said quietly, watching the video of Raya turn her head towards the opposite wall, her eyes blank. “She hasn’t done anything since the second day, Natasha said, and apparently Loki even defended her in front of the Director.”
Ace and Isabella let out identical whistles of surprise, glancing at each other before erupting in soft laughter, and Sunnie felt a small smile slip onto her lips as she watched them.
Over their shoulders, Silas clenched his jaw as Ace’s hand gripped Isabella’s shoulder, and Sunnie raised an eyebrow at him when he met her eyes.
The man turned away quickly, facing his computer once again, and Sunnie sighed, shaking her head slightly as she returned her attention to Raya.
The goddess didn’t really seem to get a lot of sleep; rather than rest, she would stare at the walls, or at Loki, routinely checking any wounds that still littered her body. It was strange to think that most of the sleep she’d gotten so far had been forced or medically induced, and Sunnie felt her heart ache slightly at the revelation.
Loki, however, seemed to be more or less on a human’s sleep schedule, though Sunnie was almost certain that was because of Raya’s influence. There was no way to measure Asgardian sleep schedules without her as an outstanding variable, unless her team somehow convinced Thor to be ushered into a room and hooked up to electric cables.
Something told her he wouldn’t be thrilled about the idea, and she banished from her mind with a smile on her lips.
On the video, Raya’s eyes glimmered, and Sunnie refocused, following the goddess’ movements as she sat up in her bed, her right palm flipping to show twin scars intertwining down her arm as her magic fell away.
For once, Raya’s expression was not blank, empty or confused.
For once, as she held the trembling hand to her chest, her next breath clearly shaky, Sunnie could see fear in her features.
It was terrifying.
She couldn’t watch it any longer.
Sunnie switched off the screen, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she rolled her chair back over to her desk, looking down at the smudged drawing on the paper before her.
Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at the picture, confusion sparking within her at the sight of it.
She hadn’t drawn anything in Raya’s eyes, and she’d never seen that symbol before; almost like two crescent moons with a line between them.
She shook her head tiredly as she began to pick up the pencils she’d left scattered over her desk, neatly packing them away into her container.
Isabella had probably done it to mess with her.
It couldn’t be anything else.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 6/7 to Spain.
5:17 am, May 14th, 2012.
Maria did not much feel like sitting still anymore.
Staring at the pages of planning she couldn’t yet enact, sipping cold tea as her mind drifted to what would happen the moment they hit the shore in Spain.
She had always hated being helpless, and there was only so many times she could connect with the Santarém stronghold and reaffirm that they were on the right path.
Maybe, that was why she now found herself outside the infirmary, her head high as she held her papers to her chest, carefully patting down the band-aid over the cut in her face.
If no one else would talk to the goddess, she would. They might have new information to work with then and would have a true understanding of just how they were going to defeat these dragon things when the time came.
She didn’t much care for the semantics. She did not care how impossible it was that the skies were now flooded with creatures beyond her imagination, or that she was residing on a ship that contained several all-powerful beings torn from legend and myth.
There was only the fact that she was here, and that she had to deal with it.
That was something she could not take lightly.
The door before her slid open, and she marched through it, her eyes immediately surveying the two gods at the side of the room, her body carefully relaxed.
Showing fear in front of either of them would only end badly for her.
Raya looked over at her, and red light flickered along the side of her face, concealing scars that stretched over her eye, but Maria could not find reason to be deterred.
Loki’s face, which had been relaxed, tightened instantly at the sight of her, his jaw clenching, but Maria barely spared him a glance as she stopped a few feet from Raya’s bed, not stupid enough to get too close.
While she wasn’t under any impression that she would be able to run away if either of them decided to attack her, finding out Raya’s perspective on their plans was too important to avoid.
“Hello. I am Maria Hill.” She said calmly, forcing herself to breathe evenly as she met Raya’s eyes, and the goddess simply blinked at her. “An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Director Fury’s second in command.”
The goddess’ eyes narrowed infinitesimally, and Maria tightened her grip on her clipboard as she kept her features neutral.
Perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea to mention Nick after everything that had happened, but she didn’t much feel like lying to their greatest source of information.
“You hide your fear well.” Raya said softly, her gaze still locked on hers, and Maria inclined her head in silent thanks. “What is it that you want?”
Loki was watching the interaction carefully, but Maria noticed that he was barely even looking at her.
All his attention was focused on Raya, as if he were waiting for something in her expression to tell him what to do. As if he were trying to read her feelings off her stony features.
Maria took in a deep breath to keep her heartbeat even, ignoring the way her body seemed to be crying out for her to run far and fast away from this situation.
“I want to talk to you about Italy. About Rome.” Maria started, holding herself higher, and Raya stayed silent, but the flicker of interest that passed through her gaze incentivized her to continue. “As soon as we touch down, your creatures will know where we are. We need to prevent civilian damages for the fight that will occur, if the accounts I received from the recent encounter is any indication.”
Raya’s expression hardened, and Maria caught the way her hand tightened around her waist, pulling a charred blanket further up her body to hide what she knew were unhealed wounds.
“That makes sense. Do mortals have anything that would naturally run them out of their homes?” The goddess said smoothly, maintaining a truly devastating amount of eye contact, but Maria simply tilted her head in acknowledgement. “On Cirica, there was a disaster that could swallow castles, wherein the very ground would break and shatter under our feet. Terrae motus. Is there a similar event here?”
Maria took a moment to process her words; her Latin was severely lacking but the description sounded like…
“An earthquake?” She questioned, but when Raya’s eyes narrowed at the inflection in her voice, she reaffirmed. “An earthquake. That’s… perfect, actually.”
It was perfect. It was easy enough to send out an alert that would give the civilians ample time to prepare, and if interest arose surrounding why it never came to fruition, she knew there were a great deal of ways to quell unnecessary questions.
Raya’s lips twitched slightly, as if she were fighting a smile, and Maria brought herself back to the present, making a note on her clipboard before raising her eyes to the goddess again.
“When we reach the suspected breeding ground, will sending in human troops in with you only be a distraction?” Maria asked quickly, not wishing to lose her attention. “I would rather spare our own soldiers if it’s possible.”
Raya stared at her for a few long moments before she straightened herself up in her bed, her expression blank.
It was terrifying, how easily she emptied her features of any emotion, any life.
“All of the Avengers will be helpful during a ground assault.” Raya said slowly, but rather than being condescending, it only seemed as if she was trying to map out a plan in her head. “I do not wish for your people to be killed, but there will be need for foot soldiers, if you are willing to spare them.”
Raya’s eyes glimmered, her expression darkening, and Maria felt as if the world seemed to warp and shrink around her, a strange sort of electricity burning through the air.
“There will be attacks from the earth, just as there will be from the skies.” Raya said, her voice strong, unwavering. “The Empress’ corruption will have followed me here, tainting your weakened humans.”
Maria saw a burst of shock flit across Loki’s features before he quelled it, and she forced away her own fear at the goddess’ ominous words, clearing her throat as she said,
“What do you mean?”
Maria didn’t want to look into her eyes, but her gaze physically burned, searing into her mind as it rested on her skin, and after a few seconds, she couldn’t help it.
Their eyes met, and the anger shining in Raya’s gaze made her blood run cold.
“There are those we call delirus. Traitors of the throne, soldiers who cracked under the training given to us… rebels.” Raya’s voice was cold. Almost lifeless. “They breathed in mercury at the Empress’ command, and we would watch them take their own lives for their treason. A dishonourable death.”
Her heart was hammering in her chest as the air seemed to shift around her, red light flickering before her, and Raya squeezed her eyes shut as her next breath shuddered out of her.
“They… I know they are here. I saw them, in his memories. Julian Alveraz, the man in his thoughts who died.” Raya said, and Maria forced herself to keep still as she realised the goddess’ voice was shaking.
She’d never heard that happen before.
“She will slip into your soldier’s minds. Cling to their thoughts, just as she did to the delirus.” The goddess continued, but now her eyes were glazed over, shining with a thin layer of crimson. “She will target your civilians. Make them feel weak and hopeless, then use them as her own army. You must… You must be careful.”
The realisation hit her so fast that it was sickening, and as Maria watched Raya’s hand shake against the blanket, she felt her stomach turn over.
She knew who Raya meant. Waylon Jones, she’d heard the chatter trickle back through the agents, about how he’d gone willingly into captivity, rambling about crimson stars and returning home.
Right before he’d bashed his skull open against the floor.
Her body was moving backwards before she realised what she was doing, and her hand flew to her gun the moment Loki got to his feet, but he wasn’t looking at her at all.
“Raya, you cannot do this now!” He was saying, his voice harsh, and Maria’s eyes flicked over to the goddess as adrenaline swept through her. “Do not be stupid, you need to breathe-”
Raya’s hands were shaking as they went limp against the blanket around her, and words were flowing from her lips as her chest heaved in apparent panic.
Her irises were gone, consumed by glowing, crimson lights.
“You do not understand, she is everywhere, everywhere-” Raya was murmuring, her voice grating against her throat, and her breathing was erratic as her head twisted to the side. “I cannot- cannot remember- Inside, inside my skin, under it-”
A piercing cry ripped from the thrashing goddess sent Maria stumbling backwards in fear, knocking into a chair behind her.
“Raya, stop it, now!” Loki yelled, and Maria felt the air tighten as green light engulfed the goddess’ hands like shackles just as she began to clutch at her head. “You are not there! You are not on Cirica!”
Loki’s voice flowed out of him, melodic and smooth, tugging at Maria’s mind even though his words had not been meant for her, and she sucked in a deep breath as she gathered herself together.
His face was completely blank, the only inkling of emotion alive in his features pure displeasure, even as Raya collapsed back against the bed.
Shivers swept through Raya’s body, and Maria watched in horror as the goddess’ skin pulsed with golden light, her flesh stretching and contorting horribly as her eyes were forced to close.
The golden light twisted up the goddess’ jaw, glowing as it fastened itself over her lips, before dissipating completely.
Silence.
Loki was panting as his hand dropped back to his side, and then his eyes were fixed on hers.
Flashing blue, fading to green.
“Whatever your meagre mortal mind has gained from this, go and deal with it somewhere else.” He said roughly, and Maria opened her mouth to reply, irritation rising in her, but Loki’s glare made her words die in her throat. “You have done enough! Leave!”
There was no air in her lungs as pure hatred shined in his eyes, the physical weight of it seeming to force her from the room as she turned on her heel, her heart pounding against her chest.
The door slammed behind her, and she let out a shaky breath as she clutched her clipboard to her chest, her hands trembling around her pen as she leaned up against the wall.
It looked like Raya had been silenced. Their fountain of information came with an access code they didn’t know how to crack.
She looked over her shoulder through the glass window in the door, watching as Loki hovered over Raya’s body, his hands folded behind his back as if to stop himself from reaching out to choke her, and Maria quickly looked away.
His expression had seemed almost… intrigued. Like he was trying to decode a cipher, rather than examining a person.
Maybe she couldn’t figure out how to free up Raya’s words, but that didn’t mean no one could.
The thought of it made her feel sick, Loki getting unlimited access to the most powerful being this world had ever known, but magic wasn’t her forte in any respect.
Dear god, was this how her thought processes were cursed to be now?
She gritted her teeth and pushed off the wall, glancing either way down the hall in momentary contemplation, before turning right, her eyes falling to her notes.
At least she had what she had come for.
That was all that mattered.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 6/7 to Spain.
12:23 pm, May 14th, 2012.
Thor tightened his jaw as he gazed out at the waves, breathing deeply through his nose as the salt air caressed his face.
The ocean stretching before him made his heart ache with familiarity, and he found his mind wandering back to time spent on boats, or at river sides on Asgard, letting himself remember the warm touch of magic that emboldened the world around him.
Midgard was beautiful, in its own way.
But it was not home.
In truth, he was glad of the separation. Even if he was now thrown into what seemed to be yet another war, at least he was busy. At least, he did not have to fend off his father’s every insistence for him to become King, a title he could not help but flinch away from now.
What became of kings? They were slaughtered, betrayed, discounted, and those who yearned for the title above all else, often ended up cast out and ridiculed for being unfit.
A throne may have suited Loki ill, but that did not mean that he wanted it.
Thor looked down at the hammer in his hand, his fingers tight around the handle, the silver uru glinting in the light of the sun as he examined it.
What was it that made him worthy, really? A willingness to do what was needed? To do what was right? Could anyone be faulted for doing what they assumed was right?
Who decided what was right or wrong? Did it not vary based on the situation, based on the moment a decision was made, a million different outcomes splitting off from one choice, that could end in ruin or revelry?
It was not an unbiased thing, picking what was right, and what was wrong.
Thor carefully weighed the hammer in his hand, his eyes trailing across the inscription carved into it, his heart heavy.
"Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."
Who was worthy? It had taken him no time to claim Mjölnir; in fact, it had been seen as his birthright as the firstborn son, but what separated him from Loki so much that he deserved this?
The matter of their parentage did not matter. That was not enough, not any reason to discredit his brother so, especially since Thor himself had been hellbent on taking the exact path Loki had run down in his own youth.
Thor found that as his time away from Asgard grew, so did his anger at what their father had done to a person he had once, and still did, hold a great deal of love for.
“Your father.”
Why these thoughts plagued him now, he had no idea. Perhaps it was because this had been his only moment of peace since he’d come to Midgard, and he was finally able to process all his grievances.
It did not quell his homesickness, but he wasn’t sure his home was a place any longer. Perhaps it had not been for a long time now.
His eyes lingered on the ring on his left hand, watching as the ruby glimmered brightly in the midday sun, but just as he moved to lift his gaze from it, a familiar voice spoke from behind him.
“Enjoying the many sights Earth has to offer, Your Majesty?”
Thor let out an exasperated sigh, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked over his shoulder, finding Tony leaning against the open doorway, and he simply nodded.
“Your planet is wonderful, but I wished for solitude more than anything.” He said, and Tony lifted an eyebrow in silent question, one he was quick to answer. “You can stay, if you wish.”
He looked back out to the ocean, waiting, and after a moment, Tony stepped up to his side, the man’s hands resting on the railing before him.
Thor could not help but notice the slight shake in them, or the powerful scent of liquor that hung around him, but he ignored it in favour of the sea breeze.
The way the mortals coped with stress and anxiety were not unusual to him, as he knew a great many warriors who employed the same methods, but for a teammate, he could not help the flicker of concern it ignited in his mind.
However, it was not his place to ask. He hardly knew Tony outside of battle, but he was sure the man would not take kindly to being ordered around.
Silence passed between them for several long moments, something else unusual for Stark, but Thor did not press the man for conversation. Clearly, he had something on his mind, but forcing it out of him prematurely would help nothing, especially in this state.
“She gave him the drink.” Tony’s voice was quiet, and he sounded thoroughly shaken, not at all like the confident man Thor knew him to be, and he narrowed his eyes in confusion.
“Of whom do you-” He started, but Tony cut him off instantly.
“Raya. I tried to see what she would do, if her displays of empathy would continue.” Tony said quickly, his words slurring together as his fingers curled around the railing. “I bought two drinks to her, and only gave her one, just to see if she’d think twice about it.”
Tony’s eyes were wide, wild, though Thor couldn’t say he understood why.
“She gave her drink to Loki.” Tony continued, and Thor blinked in surprise. “After he had been an asshole, I heard the shit he said to her before I entered the room. She even made me drink it, so she’d know it wasn’t poisoned before she gave it to him.”
Thor hummed in acknowledgment, his brow furrowing as he stared down at Tony, still feeling as if he was missing something important. Raya gaining empathy, sharing, caring about people outside herself? It had to be positive, even if all her efforts seemed directed towards Loki, the only person none of them could trust.
“This worries you.” He stated calmly, and Tony’s head bobbed quickly as his fingers tightened around the railing. “Why?”
Tony’s expression immediately flooded with disbelief, though the usual sharpness in his eyes had been dulled by intoxication as he swayed slightly on the spot.
“She was confused about it too. She didn’t hesitate, but I could see it. She is just as surprised as we are about how she feels.” Tony’s voice shook as his hands left the railing and flew into his hair, threading through the strands anxiously. “She doesn’t understand, I don’t understand, but she’s caring about him.”
Tony’s tone as he spoke the final word made Thor’s jaw clench automatically, but he turned his head away from the man to stop himself from lashing out.
Loki was still his brother, but he was also a killer. The Avengers were entitled to despise him. He had no place to attempt to rectify that.
“Are you afraid that she is apparently caring for Loki, or are you afraid that she is caring at all?” Thor said carefully, his voice measured. “Because you cannot quell the feelings as they rise to the surface. She has had them stifled for too long.”
“Exactly!” Tony suddenly shouted, and while Thor did not flinch away, he raised an eyebrow in question as the man gestured wildly towards him. “She’s stifled these emotions, any emotions, for over a thousand years! No one can bury their feelings forever, which means she can’t either!”
Tony’s hand was pressed to his chest, rubbing against the arc reactor, and as Thor watched him, the insistent hum of electricity quietened his mind, allowing him time to process the man’s words.
“She is not human, Stark. We don’t know how her emotions work.” Thor started, but Tony cut him off, his words falling from his lips almost too fast for him to keep up.
“We know she has them, but every time she’s even gotten close to really feeling them, her mind or her body have shut them down.” Tony continued, and now he was pacing, moving with the boat as his words slurred together. “Either she’s been forced to revert to a single-minded state, or she’s passed out from the strain of it. She’s scared of feeling them, and of course she is, she would’ve been killed for them on however the fuck you pronounce her planet’s name!”
Thor simply watched as Tony tugged at his own hair, almost sending himself stumbling into the side of the ship as his eyes flicked around, unseeing.
“She doesn’t know how to handle them, and how could she? She’s never learnt, and a sudden hit of them after a thousand years of blind servitude aren’t going to go down nicely.” He rattled off, and Thor tilted his head in consideration. “She already knows she doesn’t like them, and now, she likes being around the most arrogant motherfucker I’ve ever known instead of us!”
Thor caught Tony’s arm as he nearly sent himself over the railing, and he forced him to stop moving, not budging even as the man tried to push him away.
“Stark, your point will not get across if you send yourself into an unintelligible spiral of panic.” Thor said calmly over Tony’s protests, instantly making him fall silent. “Raya may prefer his company because he is the only one who treats her as if she is nothing. It is clear she does not enjoy the unruly emotions presented by our team, and my brother is remarkably good at concealing any part of himself he wishes to.”
Tony was staring at him with glazed eyes, but slowly, his grip on his arm lessened, and he stopped trying to free himself, which Thor took as a good sign.
“We must trust one another eventually. She is helpful, honest and powerful. We cannot treat her as if she is made of glass when all she has known is the shards.” His voice turned slightly stern as he continued, and he held Tony’s gaze with narrowed eyes. “Raya saved our lives. I am not going to discount that by discussing what ifs about her loyalty.”
For he knew what Tony was suggesting. Now, he understood the fear; that Raya would abandon them for Loki’s cause and turn against them, forming an enemy they had no true way of defeating.
Tony pulled out of his grip, and Thor let him go, watching as he carefully steadied himself against the railing, his breathing returning to normal even as his eyes stayed wide.
“We can’t survive both of them. We could barely survive the Chitauri, and now we’ve got fucking dragons in the sky.” Tony said quietly, his fingers tapping against the metal rapidly. “If we lose her to him, we lose everything. We’re outmatched in every scenario.”
Tony let out a shaky breath, his head falling into his hands, and Thor hesitated for a moment before tentatively reaching up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Raya has only helped us so far. As she is made aware of her own feelings, we learn with her. I know it is not what you want to hear,” He said, a resigned smile on his lips as he looked down at Tony, “but we cannot do anything else now. We can only wait and listen to her.”
Tony’s eyes refocused on his face, and Thor saw a flicker of relief roll over his tightened features.
Good. There was no use worrying about things they had no control over in the future. Not now, when the present was so confronting.
“I swear you could say anything, and it would sound mystic and prophetic in your ye olde English.” Tony said, and Thor was more pleased than he’d thought he would be to hear the joking tone return to his voice. “You gods could make a grocery list sound like Shakespeare.”
Thor laughed, the sound rough and deep, strangely unusual to his ears now, but he fought away anymore thoughts of Asgard, of before.
It was just as dangerous to worry over the past, as it was the future.
“There was… something else.” Tony said, his voice quieter now, and the brief smile that had tugged at his lips faded away as he spoke. “Loki’s eyes. They’re green, aren’t they?”
Thor narrowed his eyes in confusion at the question, and he nodded.
“Yes, they are. Why do you ask?”
Tony tapped the railing a few more times before he shrugged, turning back towards the open door.
“Thought they were blue a few days ago. Could’ve sworn I saw it, but I haven’t been sleeping well.” Tony said, shaking his head slightly as he rubbed his temple. “Must’ve been seeing things.”
Thor nodded, and Tony did a dramatic little bow before he disappeared through the open door, using the wall as support as he stumbled down the steps.
Dread coiled low in his stomach, and Thor turned his gaze towards the grey sky, the faint grumble of thunder in the distance unsettling rather than reassuring.
Blue eyes didn’t make sense unless the mind stone was being used, but Loki’s sceptre was safe, locked away in Stark Tower.
Loki was already a risk. Having someone or something messing with his mind wasn’t ideal, but even entertaining the idea was stupid.
Loki only ever acted of his own accord. He wouldn’t let himself be controlled.
Unless he didn’t have a choice.
*
The Atlantic Ocean.
Day 7/7 to Spain.
12:01 am, May 15th, 2012.
Hunger.
Awful, gnawing, biting hunger.
Raya grabbed at her head, slamming it into the bars beneath her as a guttural roar was ripped from her aching throat. Her hands were shaking, her muscles tensing with each breath she forced through her protesting lungs, and she slashed angrily at her bare stomach, crying out as blood spilled out over her fingers.
Blood.
It was so dark here, surrounded by the muffled screaming, the chanting, the yelling, sweat and frustration dripping off her as she let out a high-pitched shriek.
Heartbeats, thrumming through her body, tearing through her skin, everywhere, all around, swallowing her, beat, beat, beat-
The cage around her rattled as she fought to escape it, but her claws only scraped uselessly at the marble beneath her, the bars taking the force of her rage.
Hunger.
The lights were so bright, flashing, waning, flashing, spearing her head with pain, and her jaw tightened as her fangs elongated, cutting into her lips.
Blood.
The muzzle around her face stopped her from biting down on her arms, so she threw herself violently against the bars to incite more pain as the gates opened before her, and the screaming, the chanting, washed over her, choking her.
“Nulla misericordia.”
No mercy.
The bars fell around her as the lights flashed above her, and she screamed as scales tore through her flesh, her spine cracking and reforming as her wings finally opened.
The bodies on the ground were leaking blood before she even touched them.
Flames were erupting around her body as she descended on the screaming animals, her heart thudding hard against her ribs as she sunk her teeth into their necks, their armour melting to her body.
Blood.
They screamed, they fought, weapons slashing uselessly at her scales as her claws dug into their faces, their eyes rolling over her fingers, their teeth rattling against each other in fear before she tore them out.
She lifted a writhing animal into the air, her claws cutting deeply into its flesh as it screamed, a shrill, piercing sound echoing through her mind as she brought it down over her knee.
Their spines were so simple, so easy to break.
Chanting, panting, shouting as the animals on the ground before her were forced down her throat, their flesh barely satiating her hunger, and as their bodies disappeared into her mouth, her gaze lifted to the raised stone around her.
Thrumming, racing, fearful heartbeats.
Food.
Flames, swallowing the animals in the seats, solidifying their souls in ashy husks, their blood boiling inside their bodies as she threw herself into the stone.
Her wings cut across their throats, blood covering her body as they tried to run, staggering up stone and trembling in fear as she descended upon them.
They had nowhere to run.
Her hunger burned through her, a beast with many heads, rearing up to fight her exhaustion, and once the animals had been slaughtered, their bodies burning, she collapsed in the centre of the ring.
Blood, pumping through her body, sinking into her skin, swallowing her whole, satisfying her anger, feeding her aching soul with the sourness of their flesh.
“You are perfect.”
The screaming, the heartbeats, the hunger.
It all stopped.
-
Fire was burning through her lungs once again, and the bright lights seared her retinas as her body began to convulse, a scream torn from her throat as she rolled onto her stomach.
The dream, the memory, the nightmare, it swept through her mind, holding her hostage to the terror, the aching hunger, the terrible pain-
Molten energy spilled from her lips, choking her, and as Raya fought to regain her bearings, she could feel the presence of two others at her side, their heartbeats loud and panicked.
Her skin sizzled as she absorbed the heat, forcing herself to breathe, her body tight and rigid as she kept her hands still, not allowing herself to give into her fear.
As one of the heated bodies moved towards her, however, the choice was no longer hers.
She immediately rolled to the side, off the infuriatingly soft surface of the bed, and her arms wrapped around their body, dragging them to the floor with her.
Someone was speaking to her, saying something, something she knew, but there was a trick, it had to be a trick-
“Raya! No, stop!”
She had a name. She got it from somewhere, from someone, someone who died, who burned-
Nausea ripped through her at the thought, and she heaved again, her body thrashing against her will, shaking her as blood began to slip between her lips.
Her head hurt so much, and her hands were covered in blood, someone’s blood, her blood, it hurt, everything hurt-
“Stop!”
A flash of green slapped her across the face, sending her sliding over the floor, blood slippery under her hands, and even as a groan of frustration was ripped from her lips, the all-consuming red that tainted her vision lessened.
Green. Everywhere.
Pretty.
“Loki, what have you done?”
“Did you expect me to let her kill me?”
Loki. Thor.
Earth.
“But we are not on Cirica.”
“No. We are not.”
Her convulsions were slowing, green stealing over her sight, and her next breath was broken by a sob, air rushing in to fill her lungs as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Not on Cirica.
The heartbeats were evening out around her now, and as she reopened her eyes, Raya realised she could no longer feel blood running from her nose.
She collapsed onto her back, staring up at the bright lights above her as her vision unfocused, her eyes brimming with tears.
Dead. So many dead, and she did not even remember why.
The green was fixing everything, she could feel it, but she didn’t know why.
It didn’t make sense, nothing made sense, it was so bright, what had she done? Why didn’t she remember? Why?
Someone was talking to her again, but their words all flowed together, rendering them useless, and now there was only one heartbeat.
Green eyes. Bright, narrowed.
Green. Relief. Everything hurt less with it.
“Pretty…”
The green eyes narrowed even further, and something crossed their face as they looked down at her. Fear? Shock? She couldn’t… she couldn’t remember the word…
“Hva i helvete, Raya?”
Words murmured under their breath, and she didn’t understand, didn’t know…
The green eyes turned away from her, and panic swept through her as the edges of her vision began to blacken, her hands reaching out before she could understand what she was doing.
Shaky fingers closed around something solid, armour, shiny and gold, not green.
The green eyes met hers again, another light in them, making them soft.
Darkness bled into the world around her, and then it faded completely.
Notes:
Hva i helvete, Raya? = What the hell, Raya?
Chapter 18: Every Drop Of Blood (Is Love That I Don’t Get Back)
Summary:
HEYYYYYYYYYYY y’all! Guess who graduated, partied, got sick, had to work while #dying, had a foray into super fun ‘what the fuck am I gonna do with my life now’, and has only just started feeling like a person again? MEEEEEE!
anyway, now I’m back with another LONG rayaloki chapter because I’ve been gone for so long (throwback to the long ass chapter 1 & 2 era of this fic), so I HOPE YOU ENJOY!
Take care, stay safe, and have fun with the plot in this chapter, i want the theories guys :)
for my people, sunnie, el, brooke and kaylee, aka some of the biggest rayaloki shippers so far <3
chapter title from knuckle velvet by ethel cain
Chapter Text
Libson, Portugal.
Rio Tejo/Tagus River.
Day 7/7 to Spain.
7:44 am, May 15th, 2012.
Nothing was ever truly fair.
The word had no meaning, not to him at least. It had held no bearing over his life, his mind or his heart.
It wasn’t fair that he was forced to stay by Raya’s side, watching her sleep once again. It wasn’t fair that he was the only one who had to suffer through her shaky breathing, her twitching eyelids, her twisted features.
Loki was convinced the word had been made by some higher being simply to torment him.
It had been hours since Raya had clutched at his armour as if she was dying. Hours, since she had stared up at him with glazed over eyes and blood smeared lips, whispering so softly it disgusted him to recall it.
“Pretty.”
She hadn’t elaborated before she’d been stolen by unconsciousness, and Loki despised how one simple word had carved itself into his mind, sending confusion tearing through his carefully fortified feelings.
Her eyes had tracked his magic before it rushed into her mouth, over her face, but somehow, she’d still found strength, in all her uncertain trembling, to meet his gaze.
He could only hope she hadn’t seen the panic he’d felt reflected in his eyes.
Raya’s breathing stuttered, and Loki’s eyes snapped up to her face, but her eyelids did not open.
She was still sleeping.
Loki curled his one of his hands in the blanket beneath him, his other running through his hair, trying to wipe away the headache he could feel building as his neck ached.
The moment Maria walked into the room, Raya’s body language had shifted. He would’ve had to be an idiot not to notice; the way her jaw had clenched the more the woman talked, the way her breathing had shifted each second, faster, faster, faster, until the attack swallowed her whole.
But that hadn’t been the only reason.
Raya had been acting strange since the first moment he’d opened his eyes. Constantly shifting, her eyes too wide, her words slurring every so often.
The golden light he’d seen shining in her eyes, then sealing her mouth shut.
It wasn’t his responsibility to care for her, and he didn’t want to. He hadn’t had a choice, not really; if he’d let her kill Maria, it would’ve only led to senseless rants from his brother or Stark, and he’d been berated enough for a hundred lifetimes.
That was the only reason.
Pain spiked behind his eyes, and Loki sucked in air desperately as the world swam around him, blue light searing itself into the corners of his vision for half a second before he blinked it away.
He swallowed hard as he refocused his eyes on Raya’s face, steadying himself against the bed just as horns started to echo from the outside of the ship.
He could hear voices shouting high above him, and a smooth roll seemed to sweep through the ship as all movement came to a halt, the constant humming of the engine fading slowly.
Finally.
It didn’t matter how much he forced himself to ignore the swaying, or to fight away the bile that rose in his throat at each wave that slammed into the side of the ship. He couldn’t force away the gentle whispers of childish fear that crept into his mind.
He’d told Raya not to fear the water, but he hadn’t been able to purge the weakness he felt at the thought of being lost to the waves.
Asgard had seas, beautiful, undulating waves that beckoned for his soul, that wove threats into their soft prayers as water pressed to shore, that called for his death just as all warriors wished it did.
But Valhalla was not the one that called for him anymore.
Loki’s head ached at the thought, and blue light exploded in his vision as a memory, blurred and broken, tore through his mind, water filling his lungs, hands pushing him deeper, deeper, no matter how hard he fought to get away-
The door to the infirmary slid open, a soft hiss barely heard above the yells from outside, and Loki ripped his eyes away from Raya from what felt like the first time in decades to face…
“Sleep well, Travolta?” Tony said, his voice irritatingly cheerful, and Loki narrowed his eyes in annoyance as the man drew closer.
“What do you want, Stark?” He said sharply, straightening himself up in his bed, his jaw set.
“Nothing. Was assigned the delightful task of telling you two we’re exiting the watercraft.” Tony said, his attitude so falsely cavalier that Loki felt sick as he watched the man gesture to the outside of the boat. “We need to move her and get you up.”
Loki laughed incredulously, displeasure roiling in his stomach as he recalled the last time they had moved Raya against her will.
“Do you mean to cage her again? Perhaps muzzle her as if she were a rabid beast?” He challenged, and he was surprised by how disgusted his own voice sounded under the sarcasm. “I thought mortals were smart enough to decipher patterns, but maybe your dull mind cannot find one.”
The look of anger in Tony’s eyes was familiar, and Loki smiled sardonically as he surveyed the man before him.
If it was a fight he wanted, he would get it. He was in no space of mind to contain his disdain.
“Your people are terribly loud.” A voice cut in from behind him, and Loki forced himself to move slowly as he turned to meet Raya’s eyes. “As are you.”
Loki watched as she pushed herself up with her elbows, her legs swinging out from beneath her, her bodysuit fully reconstructed and concealing the wounds he knew hid half healed under the material.
Her eyes narrowed at him for a moment before they flicked over to Tony, and Loki pushed away the sudden bout of light-headedness that swept through him, relief trickling through his body even though he refused to truly acknowledge it.
At least her return to the world of the living wouldn’t subject him to anymore mind-numbing platitudes from the heroes.
“Well?” Raya asked, her fingers slipping down her wrist to smooth out a crinkle in her bodysuit, and Loki looked away immediately. “Will you do as he says?”
Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Tony glanced down at Loki in disbelief, slack jawed in his confusion, but as Raya rose to her feet, the man’s mind finally seemed to process her words.
“No. That was only a precaution last time.” Tony said quickly, but as Raya smoothly stepped forwards, Loki felt his throat go dry, and he was rapidly losing his ability to comprehend the discussion at hand as fear swept through him. “It isn’t needed.”
Raya surveyed Tony for a moment, her features tight with contemplation, but after a long minute of silence, she nodded, turning her head to look down at him again.
“Are you fit to move?” She asked, her voice quiet but firm, and Loki glared at her, irritation gnawing away at the awfully unsteady feeling in his chest.
“Of course I am.” He spat, pushing himself from the bed and ignoring the way his muscles screamed for him to remain still.
He could feel Tony’s eyes on them both, a sickening burn of judgement that made him want to tear the man’s throat out, but instead, he merely rolled his eyes, folding his hands behind his back.
“Let us leave then.” Raya said quickly, and though she paused as if to let Tony make a decision, Loki knew that wasn’t why.
She was surprisingly good at allowing those beneath her to grasp at power.
Loki forced away the thought, uneasy at how quickly praise for her had slipped into his mind, his eyes narrowed with annoyance as Tony allowed Raya to step past him.
Loki roughly knocked his shoulder into Stark as he passed, and the grunt of pain that escaped the man at the impact made him smirk.
Mortals.
Perhaps he should’ve expected the impact, but his mind was so disconcerted, aching with anger and uncertainty, that he was still surprised when Raya’s gloved hand shot out and slammed into the side of his head.
The force sent him stumbling backwards, and he shot her a harsh glare, stumbling slightly as she stared down at him, her mouth set in a thin line, but just as he went to protest, she cut in sharply.
“The echoes of your actions will return to haunt you.” She said, and her eyes flicked over to Tony, who was now attempting to sneak behind her, allowing him to move closer to her. “Do not hurt the mortals.”
Her voice was cold, completely devoid of emotion, her eyes glimmering with a familiar fire as her expression remained fixed in displeasure.
Loki laughed derisively, advancing towards her, but Raya did not flinch, her gaze trained on his own, her hands folded across her chest.
Her indifference only spurred on the rage building in his chest, and before he could consider the words, they slipped from his lips, riddled with spite.
“The gallant protector of those too weak to command you. How noble you are.”
He was standing close to her now, far closer than he’d first thought, and as her eyes traced over his face, he could feel his heart beginning to race, but he fought away the strange feelings rising in him with a wave of anger.
“I am nothing of the sort.” Raya said quietly, her eyes boring into his, and Loki felt his muscles tense as her arms moved to her side. “We bear that similarity.”
A breath released into the air, mingling with the heat surrounding her, and Loki could see the challenge shining in her eyes.
She wanted this. To fight, to prove she wasn’t as vulnerable as he’d seen her last night.
He knew what that felt like, to search for a reason, any reason to show his strength and display his power.
He stared at her for a few more seconds, then set his jaw, and stepped back.
“Whatever the star commands.” He muttered bitterly, and after a second of shocked silence, Raya lowered her gaze from his, nodding slightly before she turned away from him, and Loki forced his expression to remain blank.
He could deal with her anger. That was perfectly fine, that made sense.
Her disappointment, however, stung like nothing else he’d ever felt before.
“Right.” Tony said, and Loki watched as the man steadied his trembling hand against his leg, his fake smile plastered back onto his face. “All is forgiven! We need to go now, if you’d please.”
Loki let out an irritated huff, but simply waited for the man to turn and exit the room before following Raya out into the hallway.
The goddess wasn’t looking at him, and he felt a cruel sense of pleasure twisting inside his chest at her apparent embarrassment; it was what she deserved, after faltering and showing her weaknesses.
Loki didn’t allow his thoughts to soften, vicious remarks building on the tip of his tongue the longer she stayed silent, but before he could voice any of them, he felt the air shift behind him, and he clamped his mouth shut.
The Widow.
Natasha slipped silently up beside him, and Raya’s eyes slid over him to fix on the woman, her gaze appraising.
Loki swallowed the burning feeling that blazed through him at the sight, glancing over his shoulder to see his brother and the soldier following behind them, having appeared as if from thin air.
The beast and birdman had yet to appear, but he did not care to look for them, not as they rounded a corner and were faced with hundreds of agents marching off the ship in perfect formation.
It was strange to see mortals so organised, as foolish as they often were.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the muscle in Raya’s jaw twitch as she surveyed the lines of soldiers, but before he could think much further into it, Tony had turned to face them just as Thor had stepped up beside him.
“We don’t know who could be watching us leave here.” Tony was saying, and Loki narrowed his eyes in confusion as he felt all eyes turn to him. “What, with the world calling for your arrest, and HYDRA’s sudden reemergence, it would be stupid not to have… decoys.”
Thor crossed his arms, lowering his gaze to Loki’s, and realisation hit him instantly, a laugh of incredulity slipping from between his lips.
“You want my magic?” He said snidely, the absurdity of the situation forcing a smile onto his lips. “After restricting my powers, you suddenly depend on me? You trust me?”
“We do not trust you.” Natasha said coolly from Raya’s side, and though the woman tried to hide it, Loki caught the moment her eyes flicked to Raya’s face before settling on his. “Thor has told us you can create replicas of yourself and others. You and Raya need to be seen getting on separate trucks to different bases in case anyone is watching.”
Loki shook his head in disbelief, but before he could speak again, Thor spoke up, stepping closer to him, and Loki defiantly raised his eyes to meet his.
“Brother, this is for your safety as much as Raya’s.” Thor said calmly, and Loki furrowed his brow as he noticed the glint of a plea in his eyes. “We will split off into teams of four: two from our team, and two of the clones. Natasha and Banner will accompany the both of you.”
Perhaps he should’ve saved his shock for this moment, because the idea that Thor would be leaving him was almost laughable.
“Have you decided to loosen the leash around my neck, brother?” He spat, and Thor’s exasperated expression gave him all the answer he needed, but it didn’t stop him from probing further. “You would leave me with two mortals?”
A tight smile spread across Thor’s face, and as he tilted his head towards Raya, who was examining them both with intrigue in her eyes, Loki had to force down his protests.
“There are ways of keeping you in line, Loki.” Thor continued, and Loki wasn’t sure how to interpret the certainty in his brother’s tone. “Now, if you’d please.”
Thor stepped back, and Loki looked over at Raya, not surprised to find her already staring at him, her eyes wide with interest.
This could not happen. He couldn’t allow it to happen.
His mind ached as he glanced around at all the Avengers, but when he found no escape through their stony features, he reluctantly turned to face Raya, fighting away the fear tearing away at his insides.
He didn’t want to think about her, didn’t want to form the shape of her body in his mind. Copying his own form was one thing, something so easy he barely had to think about it, but having to familiarise himself with her…
“Put your hand up.” He said, his voice sharp as he swallowed his unease, and Raya’s arm immediately lifted from her side, her palm facing him as she straightened to attention.
So many awful gazes were burning into him, but as Raya’s dark eyes locked on his, the world seemed to go silent.
He lifted his hand towards hers slowly, biting back his anger, focusing on the steady pulse of magic thrumming through his veins.
He felt the familiar tug as Raya shifted her hand, their position reminding him of some strange, childish arm-wrestling competition, but when she did not baulk away from his closeness, warmth flared within his chest.
Somewhere deep inside his mind, the strands of magic separated, allowing him to hook a finger around a glowing vine, and then he could feel everything.
Raya’s eyes, shining so kindly, the fabric of her gloves, soft and warm against his skin as she pulled him from the ground, her hair, curled by sweat, pressing against her cheekbones in a caress…
Green light spilled out around him, the air tightening as the air began to take form, his heart pounding harshly against his chest-
Smooth leather of her bodysuit against his knee as she brushed against him, the necklace, dark and nondescript, engraved with those symbols she cared so much about…
Raya’s head was cocked to the side, as if she was listening to something, but her eyes never left his, and Loki felt his concentration intensifying as their palms hovered an inch away from each other-
Her voice, harsh like glass, light in a melody, torn by screams- her hands, her scars, littering her dark skin, faded and fresh slashed through each other…
“Pretty…”
Loki tightened his arm as his magic began to intertwine around their wrists, the warmth of Raya’s gloved fingertips searing itself into his skin even though the air still separated them, and he had to force himself to keep breathing.
He could feel the clones materialising, could feel the Avengers watching on from all around them, but he couldn’t see them anymore.
Her lips, cracked by wind, stained by blood, parting to show her fangs, so terribly threatening, so horribly invigorating…
His mind was swimming with her.
The scent of drying blood, the way she breathed, the way her hands flexed before her energy swept through her, the smiles she’d given him, tentative and half-hearted, but sometimes followed by gentle laughter…
Dimples.
As the rush of magic drained from the air, Loki sucked in a deep breath, his heart was racing as the world swayed before him, green and blue light bursting like stars before him as he tore his gaze away from Raya’s.
This wasn’t hard, this spell was easy, so why did he feel so shaken? Every nerve was aflame, and he tried to push down the horrid feelings, his thoughts popping open against the jagged edges of his mind, but then he was falling-
A strong hand shot out to grab his forearm, pulling him back to his feet, and a rush of heat shot through him, burning away his fear and stifling the echoes of his mind.
Concerned eyes, searching his for a reason, flickering like a dying fire. Fingers tight around his arm, separated from his skin by armour.
For a moment, the warmth was nice. It promised something he couldn’t grasp; held an honesty he wasn’t familiar with.
It was everything he’d ever wanted, and everything he’d ever run from.
It was a lie.
Loki ripped his arm from Raya’s grasp, flinching away from the confusion in her eyes, his breathing shaky as he attempted to maintain his composure.
It was disgusting, that he wanted it. That some weak part of him begged for him to allow her to touch him, for anyone to comfort him, to hold him and hold his heart together.
Disgusting.
He blinked rapidly, setting his jaw as he avoided the prying eyes all around them, once again feeling as if his soul had been torn open for all of them to inspect.
Once again, all because of her.
Loki swallowed hard and waved his hand towards the clones, and immediately they all straightened up, green light coiling around strands of their hair, their armour, their chests, adding details he’d missed in his confusion.
The Avengers remained silent, uncomfortably so, but Loki didn’t bother looking at them. They had all seen his moment of weakness. He didn’t need to face it himself.
When he finally lifted his eyes to the group around him, he found Thor’s eyes fixed on him, questions etched into each feature on his face, and Loki turned away as his heart wrenched in his chest.
He didn’t have any answers he was willing to give.
“We’re ready for you, Stark.” A familiar voice called from the end of the hallway, and while Loki was somewhat grateful for the interruption, he still had to stifle an irritated groan as Fury walked towards him.
At his side, he felt the air shift as Raya’s body went rigid, but he couldn’t force himself to look at her.
“Thank you, Director.” Tony said, and Loki caught the underlying mocking tone that edged his words.
Perhaps his annoyance with Fury was shared by more than just Raya.
“How long will these things stay like this?” Nick said, his voice harsh, and Loki glared at him.
“The further they are from me, the weaker they will become. Once I am out of range, they will remain around for a minute or two, then fade.” He said, and a twinge of irritation flared within him at the contemptuous look in the Director’s eyes. “A few hours at most, one at least.”
Fury hummed in bored acknowledgement, and Loki gritted his teeth, looking away from the man as his hands twitched with the urge to attack him.
Of all the insufferable humans, this one was the most vexing. Even Stark was more tolerable in comparison, and Loki found the thought of that laughable.
“Move, then.” Fury continued, his eyes leaving him and flicking back towards where Loki knew Natasha was standing. “Coordinates for the rendezvous point have been sent to each of you already.”
Loki glanced around at the grim faces of the surrounding Avengers, their features twisting in different expressions of understanding at the Director’s words and scoffed quietly under his breath.
Such good followers. So single-minded.
It was pathetic.
As Raya breathed out beside him, Loki looked over at her, and the sight of pure hatred shining in her eyes as she glared at Fury wasn’t what he was expecting.
Her features weren’t blank; each muscle was tightened, her eyes narrowed, and Loki swore the warmth emanating off her was increasing, beginning to prick at his skin as the scalding heat of her rage flowed out of her.
Apparently, not all things could be forgiven by the holy star.
As he was tugged out of the hallway and forced into a truck with Natasha and Banner, Raya remained silent, her body perfectly still as she sat with her back to the metal wall.
The only part of her that moved at all was her hands, her fingertips twitching as if out of her control, and as the door was sealed shut, Loki realised sparks were flashing in her palm every so often, small and bright.
Gold.
*
Bairrada, Libson, Portugal.
Enroute to Santarém.
8:30am, May 15th, 2012.
It was a burden to have doubts pricking at her mind every second, but Natasha had learned long ago not to dismiss the heavy feeling that stuck in her chest during missions.
It was what made her so good at what she did; intuition was a much more powerful thing than most people understood, and over a hundred years of single-minded reliance on that instinct had ingrained it into her nerves, her heart, her mind.
That gnawing, worried voice was what kept her alive.
Right now, as she stood at the front of the truck, flipping James’ coin between her fingers, she could hear that voice telling her to run. To get as far away from this situation as possible, and never look back.
She knew she had to ignore it, but it still pulled at her thoughts, tainting them with anxieties, warping them into twisted ideas of what could be waiting for them in Santarém.
Natasha wasn’t stupid. Santarém hadn’t responded to any of their attempts at contact since last night, and Madrid had been silent for the better half of a week.
Something had happened, she knew it.
She just didn’t know what, not yet.
Natasha straightened up as a sigh slipped from between her lips, turning to glance back at the two gods sitting behind her, then over at Bruce leaning against the opposite wall, and had to quell the awful sense of déjà vu that swept through her at the sight.
That night, the first attack, it seemed fixed in her nightmares, repeating like some sort of sick play in her mind, taunting her with everything she hadn’t been able to do.
As much as it pained her to think, she was scared. Terrified, in a way she hadn’t been for years. Maybe, a part of her invulnerability made her believe she’d always be safe, or that she was at least protected from any real threats.
But these threats, they weren’t just human anymore. Hell, they weren’t even mortal, and she didn’t understand half of anything that was going on, but she couldn’t say that. She couldn’t tell anyone, not even Barton, because she wasn’t supposed to fear anything.
She was alone, and the only person who could’ve ever understood was probably tailing her right now, with no recollection of who she was at all.
Natasha swallowed the awful thoughts and harsh feelings that threatened to overwhelm her as she faced the wall of the truck again, still spinning James’ coin between her fingers.
All this time in silence was too much nowadays. When she was younger, she hadn’t had enough thoughts that stuck; they’d all been ripped away after missions, torn from her consciousness with only fragments left behind.
Now, it was like all she could do to keep herself from diving far too deeply into her own head.
The air behind her shifted, and she spun around quickly, forcing her arms to remain at her sides as her eyes met Raya’s, not at all willing to punch the goddess in the face even if she was surprised.
“You think of him so often.” Raya said quietly, unphased by her fast movements, stepping past Bruce to stand beside her. “The soldier.”
Natasha couldn’t stop herself from taking a slight step back as Raya moved up beside her, but the woman didn’t react, her eyes simply following her curiously.
“Your soldier has a metal arm.” Raya said quietly, and Natasha’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, shock stinging at her at her words. “Dark hair. He works with them. HYDRA.”
They weren’t questions, but Natasha nodded her assent anyway, pushing the coin back into her holster, a motion she knew Raya did not miss.
It would be stupid to badger the goddess about how she knew that. No doubt, her memories, and then the memories of Julian Alveraz, had been enough for her to piece everything together, even if she didn’t understand it.
It wouldn’t lead to anything good if she lied to her.
“His name is- was James.” She said carefully, and Raya hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t mean to think about him. He just… stays in my mind.”
“You failed to save him.” Raya murmured, but when Natasha looked at her in surprise, she simply shrugged. “Clint made me aware of your joint failure. Your soldier was collateral damage. That is why you think about him.”
Natasha clenched her jaw against the sting of irritation that pricked at her, ignoring her urge to shut down the conversation.
Raya had approached her, which meant they were at least on speaking terms, and that was what really mattered for this mission. Talking about James for a while wouldn’t kill her, even if it made her feel like she was dying.
“He was beyond my help.” She said under her breath, glancing towards Banner, who hadn’t once looked up since they began their conversation. “I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t have a choice.”
Raya narrowed her eyes slightly at her, then nodded, turning to face her completely as she raised her hand before her, palm upwards.
“You do not feel the heavy sadness in every thought for him.” The goddess said, and as Natasha watched red light shimmer around her fingertips, she could hear the uncertainty in her words. “There are moments where your memories are shrouded in... something lighter. It is too strong to ignore."
On Raya’s palm, two figures appeared, a man and woman, glinting crimson, and Natasha watched as the man bowed his head, kissing the woman’s hand gently before leading her into a slow dance.
She remembered that dance.
The small figure of James dipped a much younger version of herself, smiles of adoration stretching wide across each of their faces, and Natasha could see her own mouth moving in silent laughter as she was swept back up into his arms.
She couldn’t fight away the tears that burned in her eyes as she hurriedly looked away, her gaze instead catching on Raya’s face.
The goddess was closely studying the figures on her palm as they danced, a strange sense of awestruck confusion furrowing her mouth into a thin line, and Natasha watched as she tilted her head, as if listening to far of notes of a song that no longer played.
As if she could hear the music from that night just as well as Natasha could herself.
Raya looked up at her, and immediately the people vanished from her palm as she caught sight of her face, concern tightening her expression.
“Are you hurt?” Raya asked quickly, and Natasha stared back at her in confusion as the goddess’ eyes scanned her body, as if searching for injuries. “You are fine. I did not touch you.”
A laugh, tinged with surprise, slipped from her lips before she could stop it, but as Raya’s dark eyes flashed with unease, she quickly shook her head.
“No- No, I’m fine.” She said quietly, sniffling slightly as she wiped her eyes, then clearing her throat and giving Raya a gentle smile. “I just didn’t expect… I didn’t know you could see that.”
Raya shifted uncomfortably, clearly still under the impression that she had done something wrong, and Natasha held her head high, attempting to ease her with only her eyes.
She knew it was probably not Raya’s choice to be dragged into other peoples’ memories - even supernatural abilities needed a break, right? - but even if she hadn’t meant it, no one else could find out.
She disliked the way her mind immediately turned to just how easy it would be to order Raya to remain silent about James.
She hated the fact that it was necessary.
“When I sleep, your minds reach for me.” Raya said simply, her hands falling to her sides as she fidgeted with her gloves. “I cannot keep them away when unconsciousness prevails.”
Natasha followed the movement of her hands with sharp eyes, intrigued by the way her index finger seemed to skip every second beat while her middle finger maintained the same, even pace.
Almost like she was counting something.
“Don’t worry about it.” She said, in a tone she hoped was soothing, and Raya’s eyes darted up to meet hers again. “If its out of your control, we can’t blame you for it.”
The look in the goddess’ eyes made it clear that she did not believe her sentiment at all, and Natasha couldn’t blame her.
Clearly, even though she was repulsed by liars, she wasn’t used to being told the truth.
“You just…” Natasha continued, lowering her voice as she looked over at Bruce, who was thankfully distracted by staring at the far wall, his hands folded before him as he remained zoned out. “You can’t tell anyone about him. Only Barton knows, and I need to keep it that way, at least for now.”
Red light swirled around Raya’s eyes, reminding her momentarily of a hypnosis spiral, before she straightened up and nodded.
“I will not reveal your weaknesses to anyone.” Raya’s tone was sincere, but Natasha still felt a stab of guilt as the goddess’ hands froze at her sides, the order settling all movement.
It’s necessary.
That was what she told herself, was what bounced around her head as she watched the last vestiges of emotion disappear from Raya’s face.
No one could know about her connection to the Winter Soldier, because the Winter Soldier wasn’t James.
Not anymore.
Just as she turned back to face the small window that separated her from the drivers, the truck lurched sideways, and Natasha was thrown off balance, the sudden movement almost sending her headlong into Raya.
The goddess’ hand shot out to grab her, but at the last moment she seemed to catch herself, and Natasha collapsed against the metal wall as the truck continued to rock from side to side.
The drivers were yelling something that she couldn’t make out, and as her previously silent earpiece began crackling, she swore she could make out the sounds of bones snapping.
They were under attack.
Again.
Raya’s eyes were shining red as they darted around the truck, flicking up to the roof, down to the door, but as Natasha found her footing amidst the shaking, she could see anger searing through the goddess’ expression.
That was never fucking good.
“What’s going on?” Bruce called, but Natasha was already advancing on Raya, panic flaring in her chest as the truck suddenly swerved and the screaming of the drivers grew more pronounced.
“You said you could sense the kleviah! How did they get this close?” She yelled over the cacophony of sound, and in her desperation, her hands shot out to grip Raya’s shoulders.
Her mind was screaming that she had made a mistake, but Raya’s expression did not change as her hands tightened around her, and the lack of reaction sent a chill of fear down her spine.
“It is not them.”
The cold finality in Raya’s tone seemed to silence the world around her completely, draining away all oxygen from the air, all coherency from her mind.
No.
And in that terrible moment of nauseating fear, a selfish hope wracked her pained chest, and she didn’t want it to be him.
It couldn’t be him; it didn’t make sense. HYDRA couldn’t be tailing them, she’d checked again and again, she’d made sure that every point of contact had been closed off, every loose end tied up.
There was no chance.
Before Natasha’s mind could spiral any further, she caught sight of Raya’s face, taut and blank, and the way her eyes widened, as if fear was fighting to force itself into her features, made her step back.
The clear, instinctual voice that guided her pitched up into a shriek as red light spilled out from Raya’s palms, and she didn’t have a second to process what was happening before she was forced to the floor, the truck around her erupting into flames.
*
Santarém, Portugal.
S.H.I.E.L.D. base 142, Santarém.
8:45am, May 15th, 2012.
Distracted.
That’s what she had been, when the attack was happening right under her nose. Distracted by Natasha’s emotions, distracted by her own.
Weak.
Dwelling on her own thoughts would only worsen their situation, and though the flames licking at her armour did nothing but caress her familiarly, the screams of those around her snapped her sharply back to the present.
She could only keep them alive for so long, trapped behind the shield of her magic, and as Raya felt her hands beginning to tremble again, she groaned in frustration and pushed herself harshly off the wall.
It wasn’t the kleviah, Raya knew that much. She would’ve sensed them, and they wouldn’t have waited this long to attack their convoy.
Right now, however, she found she did not care much who or what was attacking them.
Harsh, unbridled need was searing through her veins, and the prospect of another battle caused her shoulders to ache, her wings weighing heavily on her back in their phantom state.
Already, her fingertips were beginning to itch, her jaw starting to burn as claws and fangs cut their way through her flesh, and the sound of blood pumping hurriedly through the panicked hearts around her made her mouth water.
Her hunger had never truly been satiated here, and she hadn’t eaten properly in years.
Raya’s gaze sharpened as red leaked into her vision, fixing on the lock on the truck’s door, and a blast of heat left her palm, curling around the metal and melting a hole through it instantly.
The hinges began to dissolve into the heat, and she quickly glanced over towards Natasha and Bruce, both of whom were struggling to stay upright, then to Loki, who was barely maintaining his balance as he gripped the wall.
Three bodies.
There were too many heartbeats everywhere.
Delirus.
The thought struck her harshly, and as the truck’s door warped under the heat of her magic and was sucked away by the wind, the scent of blood swept over her, filling her lungs and confirming her suspicions.
For half a second, as her tongue flicked out over to her lips to taste the air, there was something else lingering on the wind, something all at once familiar and foreign.
Raya pushed the thought away.
She did not think as she slid along the floor, manoeuvring her body so she could move with the swaying truck. She did not think as her wings burst from her back, her hiss of pain disappearing into the blood steeped air as her arms shot out grab the humans.
She did not think when she rolled forwards with both of them clasped tightly in clawed hands, or when she knocked Loki from the wall and threw them all out of the burning vehicle.
There was no place for thoughts here.
They did not weigh much, so when they hit the ground, it was far too easy to wrap her wings around all three of them and take the brunt of the impact.
She did not mean to frighten them. She regretted the way Natasha fought against her hold, the way she heard Bruce yell, and how she felt Loki’s body freeze against hers as he was pressed to her chest.
She only had to keep them alive. Their emotions did not matter, not as an explosion caused the earth beneath them to tremble, not as a fresh wave of heat washed over them, swallowing their bodies whole.
The heat wasn’t unpleasant, but her companions were still screaming, and something in her mind made her tighten her hold.
Mortals are fragile.
Their abilities didn’t stop them from becoming casualties of war, and as she waited for the heat to subside, gripping them all tightly by any limb she could, she pushed away questions that surfaced in her mind.
There was no need for considerations, only action.
The screech of tires behind them made Raya grit her teeth, and she pushed all of them away as they stopped rolling, forcing away the panic sweeping through her chest.
There was no place for it here.
She could hear someone calling for her, but their voice was too quiet, lost in the hammering heartbeats that surrounded her, and she was running towards smoke before she truly knew where she was going.
There was a building looming before her, slanted haphazardly as if it had been ripped halfway out of the dirt, but her attention was stolen as something lurched at her from out of the smoke, and she instantly dived to the side, willing her gloves away.
The human made a keening sound, their voice high pitched as they wheeled around to face her, and a familiar stab of anger skewed her heart as she watched spit froth and bubble from their gaping mouth.
Their mind was gone. The gold in their eyes told her that much.
Her mother had them all.
Raya charged towards them, and it was almost too easy to slice through their fragile neck, but as she hurriedly turned around, someone jumped onto her back, forcing her to the ground.
Her wings beat hard against the dirt as her claws shot out of her fingertips, and the delira shrieked as it was impaled, its ribs shattering as Raya dragged her hands down its sides.
Blood ran down her wrists, and as her heart began to race, a smile stretched across her face.
A fight.
Finally.
More than one, swarming in around her, and she almost laughed; they were all so weak, their scent so intoxicating, beckoning for her to kill them.
Just as she had been trained to do.
Their hands were pressing against her suit, pulling at her hands, tugging at her braid, sharpened nails attempting to shred her face to pieces.
Their heartbeats reverberated through her body, and heat seared through her veins, the sunlight around her flickering to red as she inhaled their stuttering breaths.
She was so hungry.
Her wings spread out from her back as another clambered along her spine, and its pitiful screech of panic was silenced instantly as her claws swiped across its throat. The creature’s neighbour squealed as her fingers buried themselves in its eyes, but Raya didn’t falter in her movements, beating her wings harshly and sending the delirus off balance as she let out a challenging hiss.
It was strange, how confident they seemed.
She knocked another to the ground, and as she hurriedly tore through its sternum, her wings sliced across the faces of two others, their squeals of fear sending adrenaline thrumming through her nerves as she kicked out with her legs.
Twisting her hands inside the squirming delira, she barked out a triumphant laugh as its intestines wrapped around her arms, and she tore them from its stomach, sloppily forcing the twitching organs down her throat, the scent of fresh blood too much for her to resist any longer.
The burst of energy that shot through her seemed to shock her body into a new state of wakefulness, and Raya jumped to her feet, her wings whirling with her and slamming into bleeding delirus as they stumbled around blindly, clutching hopelessly at their empty eye sockets.
Her heart was hammering in her chest, and as her fresh blood mixed with theirs, Raya could feel the heat building throughout her body, her skin rippling and shifting under her gaze as she tore off the wall of the truck.
There was someone yelling.
They didn’t matter.
The delirus continued to rush at her, headstrong and mindless, and Raya swung the sheet of metal towards them, ploughing it through their ranks easily, the beat of their dying hearts fuelling her desire, and it was so thrilling-
A rock slammed into the side of her head, and Raya’s head whipped around to face her assailant, tossing the metal through the stumbling army and revelling in the sound of their decapitated heads hitting the ground.
A lone delria, their hands raised, their irises consumed by gold, was watching her, a strange look on their face.
A look of defiance, as if they had no idea what was coming for them.
A look that welcomed suffering.
She lunged before she could think, and the horrified screams that echoed around her head sent a chill of excitement down her spine as she tore off the creature’s leg.
Blood rushed over her hands, and as the delira scrabbled at her face, she reached up and ripped its hands from its wrists, shoving its still wriggling fingers into her mouth.
Food.
Her claws dug into its chest, while the sharpened spines of her wings slashed at the creature’s ribs, pinning the body to the ground, and Raya watched its eyes widen as her hand forced its way up to the lungs, its mottled skin melting under the heat of her touch.
The delirus had one good quality.
They survived so much longer than anyone else, never dying until she had finished toying with them.
They felt everything.
Her claws ripped upwards and the delira writhed completely silent beneath her as she tore out its lungs, before piercing its barely beating heart and allowing its blood to taint her palms, soaking into her flesh.
As she watched its flailing finally cease, she sunk her fangs into its heart, humming slightly into the familiar feeling, swallowing whole pieces of muscle as her stomach called desperately to be filled.
The aching in her body slowly slipped from her muscles, and after a few moments, completely faded away.
The cacophony of heartbeats around her were gone, replaced by only three.
Limbless bodies laid lifeless in the crimson tinted dirt, and Raya sighed in relief as blood slipped down her throat, reinvigorating her very bones as she knelt atop of the delira.
The hazy fullness was broken by a sharp whistle, and her head snapped up towards the sound, her eyes locking on Natasha’s sharp gaze.
The woman did not speak, but Raya could see the turmoil behind her tight expression, and she forced herself to her feet, still clutching the desecrated heart in her palm.
“They knew we were coming.” She stated calmly, even as anger began to pick at her insides, questions pressing against her mind as the hunger induced fog over her brain faded. “How?”
Bruce’s eyes were fixed on, his face a strange shade of white as she drew closer, and she saw Natasha bristle at her words, as if she had been accused.
Loki was simply gazing at the bodies on the ground, his features unreadable.
“I don’t know.” Natasha answered quickly, and Raya rolled her shoulder back into place as her wings folded into her back. “No one outside of our operation knew we were on our way, and even less knew about the clones.”
Raya nodded, pulling her eyes off Natasha’s serious expression, ignoring the way the woman’s heart began to race.
Fear was so strange.
She glanced over at Loki as she wiped blood from the corner of her mouth, meeting his cold gaze easily, and curiosity twinged in her stomach.
His heartbeat was so quiet.
She breathed in slowly, the scent of blood seeping into her body, sticking to her skin, and tilted her head towards the base before turning away from the three of them.
The world was vivid and sharp, and Raya could feel her fingers twitching against her side as she walked, trying to offset the heat building in her chest as she crossed the threshold into the building.
There was something here that was tainting the air, a sweetness that sent a chill through her body, that was calling forth the whisps of a disillusioned memory.
Where could she have smelt it before?
There was smoke everywhere, several small fires flickering in her peripheral vision, and though no new heartbeats alerted her to more presence, Raya remained tense, her eyes darting along the base’s walls.
There were pieces of agents plastered to the walls, their organs hanging from the metal structure holding up the glass roof, and as she looked further along the staircases that led to the higher levels, she could see bone and brain matter smashed into the tread.
Wasteful.
The delirus had left no survivors, as they were wont to do, but to leave this amount of sustenance behind, simply abandoned to rot, it was unimaginable.
As she heard Bruce cough harshly behind her, she lifted her hand into the air and snapped her fingers, drawing the dying fires into her palms, and a sigh of relief left her as the warmth slipped under her skin.
Idiotic of them, to start fires.
The sweetness returned at her thought, sharp and biting, tearing through her sinuses as if it were a physical thing, and her eyes narrowed towards a shattered doorway.
Blood lined the walls around the door; handprints pressed to the broken glass, splashes of it cast across the once white walls. The fight here had been tremendous.
It only made sense to fight this hard when in danger. These soldiers died bravely, with honour, even if it was meaningless.
Unless it wasn’t.
The three heartbeats behind her came closer, and the warmth of their bodies sent her mind in overdrive. How had these creatures known they would be here? Or had her meeting with them been a mere coincidence, an unforeseeable accident while they were looking for something else?
The sweetness grew stronger as she stepped over a pile of debris, rolling chairs torn apart and covered in pieces of documents beneath her feet, and her eyes caught on something wooden half concealed under an overturned desk.
A frame, reeking of that sickening scent.
She could hear Natasha speaking quietly with Bruce, could hear the telltale clicking of her gun leaving its holster, but for now, she ignored it.
Her hand closed around the frame, and as she tugged it carefully out from under the desk, her throat began to ache from the overpowering smell, and a dull throbbing started in her head as blurry memories itched at her mind.
The canvas had been torn open.
Raya smoothed her gloved fingertips gently over the curling edges of paper, waiting for it to explode into flames, but when it remained unscathed by her touch, she continued to slowly pull the canvas back into place.
A woman with pale skin and dark hair stared back at her from the painting. Her body was clad in yellow-gold cloth, melting her into the background and allowing the eyes along the fabric to pop out.
Tethys.
As disgust prickled at her skin, a dry heave wracked her chest, realisation slamming into her, and Raya stumbled over herself as the painting slipped from her grip and clattered to the floor.
It didn’t make any sense; how could the humans have something like this? Why were they willing to die to protect it? Was it some kind of threat?
Why had the Empress forced the delirus to retrieve whatever had been hidden inside?
Movement at her shoulder drew her eyes up from the painting on the ground, and she found Loki staring at her, curiosity flickering through his blank expression for half a second as he paused at her side.
“Why are you throwing artefacts at the floor?” He asked, his voice level, and Raya straightened up, fighting to compose herself and ignore her racing heart.
“This is not good.” She said quickly, and as he quirked a bored eyebrow towards her, she felt her chest tighten with panic. “They stole something from here. From inside.”
Natasha appeared at her elbow, gun drawn, breathing much more even, and Raya resisted the urge to yank her away from the painting as the woman knelt on the floor beside it.
Whatever that was, it was dangerous. It was poisoned, tainted, cursed.
Tethys was not a symbol of life.
“The Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer.” Natasha said slowly, her hand moving over the canvas to smooth down the edges as she surveyed the painting. “This is supposed to be in New York.”
“Why is S.H.I.E.L.D holding artwork recovered in the Second World War in a security base?” Bruce cut in, and when Raya turned towards him, his sharp eyes were locked on Natasha. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Agent Romanoff?”
A sense of coldness gripped her muscles, leaking through her body and freezing the harsh beat of her heart as she looked down at Natasha’s confused expression.
The sting of betrayal wasn’t unfamiliar, but it cut deep nonetheless.
Natasha’s head swivelled around, her eyes locking on hers as she pushed herself to her feet, and Raya watched fear twist her face as she hastily forced her gun back into its holster.
“I don’t know why, I wasn’t briefed on anything like this-” Natasha’s voice wavered, uncertainty tightening themselves around her hurried words, and Raya could see the plea in her eyes. “This doesn’t make any sense…”
Raya could see Loki watching her, his gaze sharp, expectant. She felt the shift in Bruce’s breathing, so quick to accuse, but so slow to know what it would mean, and she gritted her teeth against their anxious apprehension.
The anger that had begun stinging at her fingertips cooled, and she nodded curtly, her mouth pulled into a thin line.
“Stop.” She said coolly, and Natasha immediately fell silent, her eyes wide. “I believe you, for now. Pick that… thing up.”
Her head was aching, but she could make out a faint whisper of warning, telling her not to approach the painting again, and Raya did not want to disobey something else.
Already, she had spoken out of turn, acted on her own instincts.
It was she that should be afraid of their retaliation, not them of her.
“You believe someone has betrayed us?” Loki murmured, his tone casual as he once again moved to her side, and Raya took in a quick breath to ease her frustrations before making a soft noise of assent.
“It is clear. The delirus took something from this place for a purpose, and they are acting on the Empress’ orders.” She said, making a concerted effort to keep her words from shaking as her fist tightened. “Someone told them where to go, where we would be. Someone lied to us.”
The sweetness seemed to stick to her lungs, and Raya flinched away from the portrait as Natasha handed it off to Bruce, already speaking hurriedly into her radio as she rushed past towards the controls that lined the room around them.
“It could have very well been one of them.” Loki said calmly, and Raya glanced up as he gestured towards the two Avengers. “It could have been any of them, trying to undermine you. Wouldn’t that just be awful?”
Raya gazed at him for a few moments, and while his tone was clearly an attempt to rile her up into anger, the dread in the pit of her stomach swallowed all other emotion.
“Liars die once their tongues are torn out, because they are stripped of what gives them power.” She said simply, and she felt Loki shift instinctively at her side. “When I find the betrayer, I will kill them.”
As she watched him, she saw his eyebrows raise slightly at her assertion, and she waited for him to meet her eyes before she spoke again, her voice lowered dangerously.
“Do not let it be you.”
Loki’s expression returned to its blank state, and she took his silence for understanding, tilting her head towards him before she turned away towards Natasha.
She had no hope for any of them. Loki had been right about one thing; any one of the Avengers, any one of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents who had overheard the wrong conversation could be their traitor.
Her mother was powerful. No one, nothing, was safe for her to put her faith into.
Raya shook her head to clear it, her fingers following a beat she no longer looked for as they tapped against her thigh, her eyes surveying the destroyed base cautiously.
The sweetness was affecting her focus, still creeping into her mind and tugging at memories she couldn’t see, but it was not strong enough that she missed the way Loki’s eyes had shimmered blue the moment she threatened him.
Whatever she may have been beginning to believe, even to hope about, it was made as clear as ever to have been an idiotic foray into optimism.
She couldn’t trust anyone.
*
Rome, Italy.
Temple of Mars Ultor.
2:47am, May 16th, 2012.
The star was so bright.
Crimson. Sparkling. Promising.
A return to a home she always knew called for her.
Kalia smiled as the wind rushed through her hair, her stiffened muscles silenced by the cold.
She couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She was ascending. Becoming inhuman.
A sacrifice would be made, and she would be with her gods.
Her fellow followers chanted with one voice, an echo of endless devotion filling the red tinted sky.
“Ab ira tua, assurgunt exercitus, cadunt.”
From your fury, armies rise and fall.
Hands pressed to the clouds, cool stone of the columns beneath bare feet.
“Vocem tuam audientes, periclitantur omnia.”
Heading your call, they risk it all.
Hundreds tilting their bodies towards the ground.
“In tuo tamen regno chaos residet.”
Yet within your domain, chaos resides.
A shared divinity, they had now found.
“Et cruor immissis fluat aestibus.”
And bloodshed flows with relentless tides.
Rewards for their service would be eternal gratitude.
“Tip the scales, child. Die for me.”
Mars spoke with such clarity now.
The red star in the sky, flickering so brightly.
Kalia let herself rest on the edge of the stone, the wind tugging at her robes as tears decorated her cheeks, slipping down to widen her smile.
The cracks from far below, the thuds of willing bodies, that was her call home.
Her feet left the top of the column, and for a blissful moment, she had wings.
The earth rejected her shattered bones and painted her white cloth in crimson patterns borne from her own body.
Her last thought was of home.
Chapter 19: Please Be Rude
Summary:
IM BACK IM BACK IM BACK!!!
hi again guys, im so excited for this chapter, because omg omg! Anyway, I've recently gotten a new job and have another two on the go, and im still getting over my sickness, so the next chapter might take a while to get out, but i genuinely hope you enjoy this one! shit is amping up and i might have finalized the number of chapters for this, but thats a secret between me and my 5 planning whiteboards lmfao!
rest up, drink water, stay hydrated, and try not to cry over this chapter like i did several times (pays to be truthful, guys).
for el and sunnie, my continued biggest supporters <3 cant wait for the analyses that are as long as the damn chapter lmao.
chapter title from please be rude by gigi perez (such a rayaloki song, and a good song for those who love sailor song or fable, which shockingly are also rayaloki songs).
Chapter Text
Madrid, Spain.
S.H.I.E.L.D. safety bunker, Madrid.
1:43am, May 16th, 2012.
He was far too fucking sober to be dealing with shit like this.
Tony pressed his palms to his eyes, taking in a shaky breath as he curled in on himself, surrounded by walls of new information that he couldn’t find the presence of mind to decipher.
It had been hours since Natasha’s party had been retrieved from the wreckage of Santarém, and the entire base had been far too silent.
The moment they’d crossed the threshold and he’d seen the stony look in Raya’s eyes, the dread that had been steadily building in his stomach had turned to cement.
The goddess had stared at him, her gaze peeling back his skin, exposing his brain to her perusal, holding him in contempt for a crime he hadn’t known about, and Tony’s hands were still shaking from the feeling of ice-cold fear that had set itself into his very bones.
She was angry, so horribly enraged that all the fire in her eyes had disappeared.
Tony swallowed hard as he gripped the arm of his chair, glancing down at the phone that rested on his knee, silent and yet still beckoning for his attention.
He couldn’t fight the urge to call Pepper much longer, but he didn’t want to drag her into the mess inside his head, or to tell her that everything was so much worse than he had ever imagined.
Natasha had relayed to him that Raya believed someone had betrayed them, and judging by the look she had given him when she broke the news, the goddess was not the only one who thought so.
Tony clutched at his head, trying to will away the ache in his skull, but the headache seemed determined to stick, and he sighed exasperatedly as he rubbed his eyes.
There was far too much swirling around his head, and on the computers before him, for him to even begin to understand, but he had to.
Tethys. His knowledge of the goddess didn’t exist, but from what Natasha had told him, she was some barely mentioned water goddess from Roman mythology, with her greatest achievement having been Hera’s adoptive mother. She wasn’t related to war or the military, and certainly didn’t seem intimidating enough to send their resident meteor into a mute state.
Tony supposed he shouldn’t judge by appearances, but god, this seemed so fucking stupid, how could this be his life now?
“Looks like the studying is going well.” A voice said from behind him, and Bruce appeared in the doorway, holding two cups in his hands. “You up for company?”
The scent that wafted from the cups made his stomach growl, and for the first time, he realised that he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast.
Jesus, no wonder he felt so shit.
“Yeah, whatever.” He said, waving Bruce over as he leant forwards onto the desk, scrolling through the website as he attempted to clear the panic clouding his mind. “Why’re you up so late? Jolly green giant doesn’t need beauty sleep?”
Bruce rolled his eyes, sliding into the seat beside him and placing the coffee beside his right hand, sipping his own as his gaze drifted to the computers before him.
“Thinking too much.” Bruce said simply, tapping his finger against the side of the cup. “Besides, its easier to use the cafeteria when a hundred S.H.I.E.L.D. agents aren’t waiting for you to crack their skulls open.”
Tony shrugged, conceding defeat, and ran his hand through his hair again as he brought the drink to his lips.
Damn, Banner may have been a lettuce with anger issues on a bad day, but he made a mean coffee.
“You look like a walking corpse, Tony.” Bruce said, and Tony sighed at the hint of concern in his face. “You need sleep, soon.”
“Jarvis, throw Dr Banner’s coffee in his face.” Tony deadpanned, and the ai flickered, before Jarvis’ voice came from the computer speakers.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I am unable to do that. Would you like to show Dr Banner your medical history instead?”
Tony smacked the keyboard, glaring at the screen as he shook his head irritably.
“Can’t even trust the damn machines anymore.” He muttered, and Banner gave him a sidelong look, one that made his skin crawl. “You got something you wanna say to me, Bruce? Cause I’m not in the mood for anymore mind games tonight.”
Bruce returned his eyes to the computer screen, swirling his coffee around absentmindedly as he studied the webpages before them.
“You’re not the only one working on this.” He said, and Tony scoffed, but Bruce continued anyway. “This isn’t just for you to figure out. Natasha is giving it her best shot too, and she got Raya to tell us barebones information about the woman in the painting.”
Tony let out an annoyed breath, but Bruce didn’t seem fazed, simply sipping his drink before continuing.
“I’m just saying, you don’t have to run yourself into the ground over this. The entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D is working on this, for god’s sake. You’re not the only man in the world.”
It was too late to listen to this motivational bullshit, but Tony felt something in his heart lessen at the words, nevertheless.
“I just want to be prepared.” He found himself saying before he even realised what he was doing. “We have to be better prepared this time. Last time…”
The memories came back in a flash of fear, of panic; the nuke, heavy on his back, weighing him down as his heart frantically beat against his chest, blending with the sound of the call Pepper never answered-
Bruce’s hand was on his shoulder, and Tony only realised he was shaking when he felt hot coffee slap onto his skin.
He winced, carefully setting the cup down away from his computer, and silently took the napkins Bruce handed him, barely fighting off a scoff at the appearance of them.
So, he’d just assumed he’d be too unstable to drink a cup of coffee.
The fact that he was right grated at his pride.
“This isn’t going to be like last time.” Bruce finally said, after a few dragging minutes of silence, and Tony chuckled darkly. “It won’t be. We understand each other better now, we have more of a plan. It’s not the same.”
“We had a plan last time.” He murmured, and Bruce shot him an annoyed look.
“A plan that was derailed by trigger happy officials. That won’t be the case this time.”
Tony didn’t look over at him as he sipped his coffee, but he could feel Bruce’s eyes boring into the side of his face, and he hated the worry in his face.
He was sick of people looking at him that way. It wasn’t some sort of crime to be prepared, it was better than ending up dead , or having to do something in the spur of the moment, like-
“You’re not going to sacrifice yourself this time.” Bruce said, and Tony clutched at the cup in his hands tighter. “It was a one in a million scenario.”
“So is fighting dragons.” Tony pointed out, but at the sound of Bruce’s long-suffering sigh, he rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine , I see your point. Is that what you want to hear?”
The smug look on Bruce’s face made him want to toss something at his head, but amazingly, he somehow held back.
“It was, actually.” Bruce said, his voice tainted with a hint of victory, and Tony fought the urge to rip his hair out. “Get some sleep, Tony. Jarvis?”
“Yes, Dr Banner?”
“Shut everything down. Mr Stark needs rest.”
“What a wonderful idea.”
“Prick.” Tony muttered, not quite sure which of them he was referring to more.
The computer screens turned off, leaving them in the dark, the only light coming from under the hallway, and Bruce stood up, awkwardly patting Tony on the shoulder as he walked past.
“Goodnight, Tony.” Bruce said, and Tony held up his middle finger towards him, smiling slightly to himself as he heard the man laugh. “That’s more like it.”
Tony turned and watched him walk away, before sighing and pushing himself to his feet, reaching for his phone.
As he stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door behind him, his eyes scanned his contact list, and he took in a deep breath as he selected the contact he missed most.
One ring.
“Hey, baby. Is everything alright? I thought you said not to call you at this time. Isn’t it late over there?”
“Everything’s fine, honey. I just wanted to hear your voice. How was your day?”
*
Madrid, Spain.
S.H.I.E.L.D. safety bunker, Madrid.
5:45am, May 16th, 2012.
It had been so quick.
Loki ran his fingers through his hair, letting his hands fall to his sides as he paced the hallway, his eyes cast towards the floor.
He could hear her, slamming into walls, cracking wooden dummies, but Raya never once made a sound herself.
Gods, it had been so quick.
Loki could still feel her arms around him as they rolled out of the truck, saving his life yet again, indebting him to her again , and he despised the way the memory clung to him, sticking to his every thought even though he tried to shake it off.
She had fought through those humans so easily, slicing them down with her claws and wings as if it were no easier feat than waking up in the morning, and he had felt admiration for her.
That was the part his mind threw back at him with all the venom it could muster; that while he had lain with his limbs entangled awfully with Natasha and Bruce, all he could focus on was Raya.
Loki shook his head, forcing it to clear, and simply continued to walk down the hallway, each of his footsteps punctuated by an echoing punch from Raya from the room several doors away.
The drive back from the wrecked base had been utterly silent, but Loki had been watching her for the better part of it; waiting for her anger to overtake her, for her strange panic to boil out of her body and burn them all alive.
However, that hadn’t happened, and she had simply stared at the opposite wall of the truck that had come to pick them up, only responding when Natasha ordered her to.
It had unsettled him, just how empty she looked, as if the reveal of whatever she had seen in that painting had drained her from any of the energy that usually remained fixed in her expression.
Loki paused in front of the training rooms, his jaw set as he looked through the small, glass window, watching as Raya punched the far wall.
The metal dented under her touch, and she didn’t even flinch, simply rolling her shoulder and setting her stance again.
It was like she was fighting off imaginary enemies, and Loki didn’t like the idea of her experiencing anymore hallucinations; his mind still hadn’t recovered from her last one, the awful mix of feelings it brought up still prickling in his chest each time he recalled it.
All this sparring by herself wasn’t doing her any good, simply driving her further into madness, into anger, into the hauntingly indescribable feeling of hopelessness he knew consumed her.
It consumed him too, worming its way into his heart, bleeding into his mind.
The same virus infected them both.
He took in a deep breath, and saw Raya pause for a moment, glancing over her shoulder, and he gritted his teeth.
No choice now.
Loki pressed his palm against the door of the training room, and it instantly slid open, revealing Raya’s straight-backed form, and as he stepped inside, she turned to glare at him, her fists clenching at her sides.
He gazed at her for a few moments, before unclipping the golden braces on his wrists, ignoring the thrumming of his heart as he felt her eyes burning into him.
This was what she wanted, and it wasn’t that he cared; no, it was what needed to be done.
Loki didn’t speak as he raised his hands in a silent expression of pacification, and Raya swayed slightly on the spot, her hands unfurling from their fists as she nodded sharply.
No magic.
Her gloves curled around her fingers as she opened her hands, and Loki waited until they had crept up her arms before he stepped closer, not willing to repeat his old mistakes.
They both knew what this fight was now, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t hurt him, and Loki found himself strangely accepting of the idea.
Something whispered that he deserved the pain that was coming, a flash of blue accompanying the sentiment, but he shook his head to clear it and met Raya’s ever-understanding gaze.
He wasn’t sure who needed this more.
Raya lifted her arms, her limbs apparently never growing tired, and Loki caught her wrist as she threw a punch at his face, pulling her into his chest as his elbow slammed into her face.
Her nose crunched under the impact, blood spurting from it and dripping down his skin, but before he could feel the victory, Raya’s hands were sliding down to his shoulders.
She moved so fast; one minute she was grabbing him harshly, and then she was standing above him, his own blood staining her glove as she rained down blows onto his face.
He cried out in pain as her nails dug into his face, wrapping his legs around her waist and forcing her off him, gripping her by the back of her neck and tossing her to the floor.
She spun around quickly to grab his foot, and Loki stamped down hard onto her fingers, but Raya didn’t make a sound as her shoulder clicked back into place, and then he was sent flying into the opposite wall.
The impact hurt so perfectly, his ribs aching as his heart was set racing, and as her hand fisted in his hair, he truly felt what Raya seemed to gain every time she fought against an opponent.
Clear and unmistakable, there was euphoria in the pain, the kind that set his nerves on fire, and he could’ve almost laughed as he felt her rip his head back to look up at her.
His fingers scrabbled at her hand, but as she moved her arm out of the way, his hand shot up to grab her throat, his grip bruising as her blood trickled down onto his face.
He breathed in her broken exhale, and rolled with her along the floor, fighting to keep himself upright while she tore at his face.
Her fingers were driving themselves into his sides, pricking at his skin, and as he tilted his head back to watch her eyes darken, it wasn’t panic that swept through him.
Each blow she landed on him was calculated, painful but never truly harsh, not like the last time they had really fought, when she had been so terrified that she could barely make out his face.
Now, her eyes were locked on his as blood slipped from between her lips and splattered over his skin, and he knew she was in perfect control of her every movement.
He felt pain when she wanted him to. He cried out when she needed him to.
Loki didn’t have time to process the thoughts running through his head, sending it spinning far too fast for him to catch up, he didn’t want to, and it didn’t matter anyway.
Only this mattered.
Raya’s fist crashed into his jaw, and his neck cracked as she forced his head back, his tongue bleeding as he bit down on it, and the sharp stab of pain snapped him back to reality.
His hands closed around her arm, and Loki tugged her down onto him, making her lose her balance and stabilise herself against his chest, which allowed him to rip at her hair.
Finally, Raya cried out, and that familiar fierceness flashed across her features as she turned her eyes on him again, sending a shiver of fear through his body.
Hel.
Her knee pressed into his ribs as she crawled over his head, and with his hand still wrapped up in her braid, his arm cracked as she forced it backwards.
Before he even felt her move, her hands were wrapping around his neck and waist, pulling him into her body and trapping him between her knees.
Panic flaring far too late in his chest, Loki fought to free himself, flinching as he felt her breathless panting against his neck, but it was useless.
No matter how hard he dug the nails of his free hand into her ribs, or the way he attempted to slam his head hard into her face, Raya did not wince, nor did she falter.
Then, his hands were pressed against her stomach as she pinned them to her, using her own to grab at his shoulder and neck, forcing his head to the side.
Raya’s next sharp exhale danced across his skin, and he heard her hiss faintly, her gums squelching slightly as her fangs elongated from her mouth.
Loki was paralysed, everything falling away until all that was left was the steady thump of Raya’s calming heartbeat against his back.
She’s going to kill me.
His breath caught.
Then, Raya’s hands were gone.
Loki swayed to the side as she released him, blinking rapidly as he turned towards her, watching as she clawed at the floor beneath her, her hands sliding in a puddle of their blood.
His hand immediately flew to his neck, – no puncture wounds, none that he could feel anyway – his heart racing as he tried to force breath into his lungs, his body alive with shivers as the adrenaline faded away.
Raya wasn’t looking at him, but as she let out a muffled cry, Loki realised her mouth was clamped over her now ungloved hand, her fingers twitching as she squeezed her eyes shut.
A tear glimmered on her cheek for a moment, but then she whipped her head away from him, and Loki couldn’t do anything but stare at her.
As much as he wanted to collapse against the floor and try to stop the world from spinning, Loki forced himself to stay upright, straightening his back and wincing as his spine cracked.
“What was that?” He asked, his words clipped from his breathlessness, but before he could continue, Raya was shaking her head, spitting out her hand and gasping for air.
“No.” She forced out, her voice rough, and as she looked over at him, Loki felt an awful sense of foreboding swirl around in his stomach at the sight of her blood-stained mouth. “ No .”
She was shaking, and Loki hated the way his hands ached to reach for her, some childish impulse returning as he watched her nails dig into the training room floor.
He should never have come here. He had only made everything so much worse, and now she was in pain, and his body was beginning to hurt .
A soft sob reached his ears, and Loki’s eyes snapped over to Raya just as she curled into the floor, her arms coming up to cover her head.
Loki wiped her blood from his lips, gritting his teeth against the stabbing pain that erupted in his chest, and braced his hands against the floor as he saw her eyes dart over to him through the crook of her arm.
He didn’t know what to do anymore. It had all made sense while they were fighting, but this strange quietness was making his skin prickle as he fought off the concern building within him.
Everything made so much more sense when she had him in a headlock, and the idea of that absurdity made him scoff quietly to himself.
Raya was still trembling, and as he looked at her, he could see blood trickling from the bite mark on her hand and into her hair, sliding down the side of her face as she breathed out shakily.
The heat that usually surrounded her was gone, and Loki hadn’t realised how accustomed to the warmth he had grown until it had vanished, leaving him feeling frozen.
“I do not want to.” Raya whispered, so softly that Loki almost mistook her words for a choked exhale. “I do not know why… I do not understand…”
Her last words pitched up into a broken cry, and Loki stared at her in confusion, leaning against his palms as dread seeped into his nerves, holding her gaze as he murmured,
“You do not want to what?”
Raya’s hand was shaking as she rested it flat against the floor, coating it in a mixture of their blood, and she tore her eyes from his as she spoke, her voice hardly a whisper, barely even words.
“ Hurt you. ”
He was locked inside his own body, trapped in the pounding of his heart as it echoed through him, tied to the feeling of his blood thrumming beneath his skin, ensnared in between his lungs, each breath tightening his chest and allowing him no relief.
“ What ?”
No words, no thoughts could make sense of what she was saying, and as he leaned forwards slightly, his heart wrenched at the way Raya flinched away from him.
Raya was not looking at him as she pushed herself up onto her knees, her chest still heaving slightly, and Loki slowly crawled away from her, uncertainty wracking his body.
She didn’t speak; it almost looked as if she couldn’t, and as golden light flicked up her wrists to intertwine with the crimson twisting down her arms, Loki knew she was being silenced yet again.
“I am not safe.” Raya choked out, her fingers clenching into fists as she pushed herself to her feet, and the golden light sputtered out, overwhelmed by the red. “Stay away from me.”
She was glaring down at him now, but as Loki gazed up at her, he could see tears glinting in her dark eyes, ones that quickly vanished with a hurried blink of her eyes.
“You are weak.” He spat up at her, an unexplainable anger tearing through her, shielding his heart from the hurt that was attempting to swallow him whole. “Run from it, why don’t you? So high and mighty until you’re scared .”
Raya’s eyelid twitched, and Loki wasn’t sure why he kept going, so busy trying to push away the strange sense of fear rising in him that he didn’t stop to think as he pushed himself to his feet.
“Stop.” Raya cut across him, but Loki didn’t want to hear her, the harsh pounding of his heart muddling his mind and letting vicious barbs slice through his words.
“Why? Can you not handle the truth?” He said angrily, and then he was advancing on her, his breathing sharp. “I thought you valued it so much- ”
He wasn’t sure what he was hoping for; proof that she didn’t mean it? That she wanted to hurt him, that he was just like everyone else in her eyes?
Perhaps he just wanted to feel her hatred, the same that burned so fiercely for her within himself, so that he could truly know something about her, something he could be sure of.
So, when her fist slammed into his jaw and sent his head reeling back, he couldn’t silence the laugh of relief that slipped from between his lips.
“Be silent!” Raya screamed, her voice cracking, and Loki felt a derisive smile spread over his face as she grabbed him by the shoulders, slamming his body into the wall behind them. “You know nothing of what you speak! Nothing!”
“Then tell me!” He yelled back at her, his hands coming up to grip at her wrist as she closed her gloved hand around his neck. “Tell me anything, make sense of something , do not just close yourself off because of your own self-pity!”
Her ungloved hand gripped at his shoulder, but he made no move to reach for it, instead letting his hand fall to side in a silent admission of respect.
Raya was panting, her breathing harsh as it pressed against his face, and her lips were parted in a grimace, her eyes alight with rage.
Loki hated the way it left him breathless.
“I cannot!” Raya said, her voice sharp, and as her hand released his shoulder, her fist sunk into his stomach, eliciting a hiss of pain from him. “I endanger everything with what I do not know and invite challenge with everything I do! This is not some small inconvenience, Loki!”
“Then what is it?” He yelled breathlessly, his chest heaving as she pressed her forearm into his neck, grabbing the elbow of her ungloved hand to stop her from hitting him. “You promised to tell if you were asked. Why are you drawing back from everything?”
“I cannot have weaknesses!” Raya screamed, her voice breaking, and as confusion and panic flashed across her face, Loki understood.
He held her gaze, watching her eyes widen, her lips part, and as they breathed out together, frenzied and angry, he understood.
Raya’s forearm left his throat, and pain shot through him as she kicked him in the leg, his knees buckling under him and sending him to the floor.
Her eyes were dark, disturbed, and as he forced himself to look up at her, rubbing his set jaw to ease the ache, he caught sight of the tear tracks that lined her cheeks.
“Everything is in danger because of me .” Raya said, her voice shaking as her fist curled and unfurled at her side, her fingers twitching. “I doomed this world with so much more than just myself; Tethys. The Kleviah. The Great One. Whatever chain reaction you put into motion was hastened by my existence.”
Loki looked up at her, disgusted by the way concern flickered through him at the sight of distress in her expression, but he did not bite back yet, waiting.
“I should have stayed angry with you.” Raya’s voice wavered, but ultimately held strong as she stared at him, the intensity in her eyes shifting into something harsher. “It would have been so much easier.”
Loki laughed, his tone humourless, trying to push through the sadness burning into his heart, and as she turned away from him, he saw that her hand was clenched tightly into a fist.
Raya had made her decision.
What that could be, he had no idea, but as she glanced over at him, he could see something he hated in her eyes, shining there, consuming the glittering irises and twisting her face.
“You were right.” He muttered, knowing she could hear him, wanting to hurt her, every part of him wishing to make her feel the sickness that was swirling within him. “You are not noble at all.”
At his words, Raya paused in the doorway, her shoulders tensing, but just when Loki thought she would turn back, the door slid open, and she disappeared.
Loki slammed his fist into the floor, releasing a cry that cut at the jagged edges of his mind, swallowing the lump in his throat as he stared after her.
Under it all, all the swirling hatred and anger, the hollowness in his chest deepened, some long forgotten defence over his feelings cracking and falling away into the abyss.
Selfishness protected him, it made him the focus of his own life, allowed him to guard his heart with sharpened claws and tear away at anyone who tried to pry him open.
She had done it so easily, and now he felt like an open wound, because her selflessness took her away.
It protected her, because it protected him- protected them .
She wasn’t any better than him at all.
At their core, they were both selfish beings, created to destroy, hurt and torture.
It had to be true.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have seen himself reflected in her eyes.
*
Madrid, Spain.
S.H.I.E.L.D. safety bunker, Madrid.
10:54am, May 16th, 2012.
The trail of blood across the floor should’ve elicited some sort of panic within him, but Thor barely had enough headspace to process where he was.
This wasn’t normal, but really, he’d forgotten what the word meant anymore.
What truly confused him was the soft, stifled sobs he could hear from up the hallway, and the fact that he knew exactly who was making them.
Raya never cried, but as he rounded the corner, he sucked in a sharp breath, and worry flitted through his heart.
Raya was sitting in a pile of rubble, shattered pieces of concrete surrounding her, metal chairs twisted into grotesque shapes by her side as she rocked slowly back and forth, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.
She was covered in spots of blood, her face and gloveless hands stained with red, and her hair was no longer in its braid, but fistfuls of it laid around her in careless piles.
Every one of the scars on her face and hands were on display, white lines crossed over with steadily healing cuts on her cheeks and knuckles, a testament to her inability to regulate magic.
Her eyes were wide, but instead of being blank, her expression was twisted into a mask of fear, of… sadness.
Thor paused on the threshold, and Raya’s head snapped over to him as he stared at her, one of her hands sliding down her leg and gripping a piece of metal beside her, lifting it as if she was testing its weight.
“Leave me.” She whispered, her words strained, and she turned her face into the crook of her arm as a cough briefly ripped through her words. “Do not force me.”
Her hand was trembling as she tightened her hand around the metal, and Thor raised his hands in surrender as he slowly took a step into the room.
“I am not here to hurt you, Raya.” Thor said quietly, and the goddess stared at him for a long moment, a shaky breath leaving her as her gaze flicked down to his hands. “I wanted to ensure that you were alright.”
Raya’s bottom lip trembled, and the sight set Thor so off guard that he was sure his surprise could be shown on his face.
“He does that too.” Raya murmured, tears glimmering in her eyes as she rocked slowly back and forth. “Every time.”
She sounded as heartbroken as she did in awe, and Thor let his hands fall to his sides, the puzzle pieces suddenly clicking together in his mind.
This wasn’t just about what they had found in Santarém.
This had something to do with Loki.
Raya’s arms came back up to circle her knees as she pressed them to her chest, her hand still tight around the metal and her gaze as sharp as ever.
Even distraught, she was still intimidating, and Thor made sure to hold eye contact with her as he crossed the room towards her, taking a seat in front of her.
Raya made a disapproving noise as he moved to sit down and hurt flashed across her face as she brandished the metal towards him.
“No. No. ” She muttered, her hand trembling as she made to ward him off, her breathing shaky. “No. Not like that.”
Thor glanced around for a moment, his eyes settling on one of the only untouched chairs, and he carefully tugged it forwards so he could sit in front of her.
Raya’s body was tense, every muscle seemingly pulled taut, waiting for a reason to fight, but Thor didn’t move, keeping his eyes on hers and giving her a gentle smile.
Of all emotions, guilt flashed across her features, and blood slipped down her wrist as she tightened her hold on the piece of metal, and Thor forced the smile to fade off his face.
“How much of that is yours?” He asked quietly, gesturing to the blood splattered over her skin, and Raya seemed almost surprised as she looked down at her hands and caught sight of it.
“I do not remember.” She said, and her red rimmed eyes left his as her rocking slowed slightly. “Most. I think.”
Her voice was quiet, so different from the commanding tone he had gotten used to, but he didn’t let his concern show on his face.
He knew enough to know she wouldn’t appreciate it.
“Why did you leave the training room?” He said, watching as she shrugged her shoulders, her gaze remained fixed on the metal in her hand.
“It is safer here.” She whispered, and her free hand twitched as she wrapped it around her throat. “Everything… safer…”
Her wide, watery eyes reminded him of how it had felt to be struck as a child; a bewildering, horrible feeling that left you stunned as you stared up at the offender, a person you trusted with your whole heart.
The bruises around her throat were swelling up purple, and he could see that she was having trouble breathing, but each time red light flickered through her fingers, Raya squeezed her eyes shut and the light died.
For whatever reason, she was forcing the wounds to stay, letting herself to sit in the pain.
She’s punishing herself.
Thor laced his fingers together, and Raya’s eyes quickly traced the movement, still curling tightly in on her body as she drew the metal across her knee, cutting through the bodysuit.
“Why will you not leave me alone?” She whispered, and as he raised an eyebrow in question, she let out an exasperated huff. “Why do you insist on placing yourself in danger?”
Thor looked down at her, at the wreckage of the room around them, at the state of her body before him, and set his mouth into a thin line.
“Because you deserve to be heard. To be looked after.” He answered simply, his voice sincere. “And if I am placing myself in danger to make sure you’re okay, so be it.”
The tears in Raya’s eyes shimmered as she turned her head to look at him, and her next breath was strangled by a sob.
Thor couldn’t help the sympathy from slipping into his expression, but Raya thankfully didn’t flinch away this time.
The piece of metal in her hand clattered to the floor, and Thor took that as a small win, even as she remained folded in on herself.
“You are not simply a tool to be used and thrown aside, Raya.” He said, ignoring the noise of protest she made at his words. “You possess your own soul. Your own consciousness.”
“I do not want them.” She said quickly, desperation tinging her words as she ran her trembling fingers through her hair. “They are weak. They will kill me; they will kill everyone.”
As much as he respected the man, Thor did not particularly enjoy telling Tony he had been right , but as he stared at Raya’s distraught expression, he knew he couldn’t avoid the ‘ I told you so ’ of it all.
Her emotions were sweeping through her, and she was clearly scared that he was going to lash out, while simultaneously being confused by his kindness. She was frightened to comprehend how she was feeling, but she couldn’t avoid it.
It was a personal hell he had no way of understanding.
“You have them regardless.” He said carefully, and Raya’s features shifted slightly. “Being empathetic does not make you a bad soldier. It makes you better , because it lets you understand the risks on a personal level. It gives you fear beyond disobeying a superior; it makes you stronger because you’re protecting people you care about.”
Thor felt a slight tightness in his chest as he spoke, and he sat back in his chair, clearing his throat, but as he looked down at her, Raya was staring at him, disbelief stealing over her features.
“You are wrong.” Raya said quietly, and as he went to disagree, she shook her head. “This… this feeling does not help me. It does not help anyone, it simply hurts. Aches , as if it is only here to make me suffer.”
Her fingers dug into the tops of her knees as she breathed out shakily, and Thor waited, sensing there were more words waiting to be released.
“I felt this. Once.” She continued, and her body shuddered, her eyes squeezing shut as if she were recalling a memory. “I put this ache before what made sense, and someone, someone without a face, they died. I killed them, with this feeling.”
Raya’s tears spilled down over her cheeks, and Thor fought against the urge to squeeze her shoulders in reassurance, to comfort her in anyway, barely holding back, not showing the shock that flashed through him at her revelation.
There was just so much sadness in her eyes.
“I do not even remember how, or why.” She was whispering, and he leant slightly forwards to catch her words. “But itv only ruined me. Now, I am forever tainted by this, this weak feeling, and it does not even make sense.”
Her hands came up to cover her face, pressing the heel of her palms into her eyes, but even as her sight was compromised, Thor knew by the tension in her shoulders that she was far from off guard.
“Feelings often do not make sense.” He said calmly, his finger tracing the ring on his finger, twisting it slightly. “But that does not make them bad, and it especially does not make them weak. What you are experiencing, is part of what it is to truly understand other beings.”
Raya watched him spin his ring on his finger, sniffling slightly as she hugged her knees with one arm, while her other hand wiped at her face.
“I am not envious of humanity, then.” She said softly, and Thor felt his lips twinge up into a sad smile at the resignation in her voice.
“They feel this from the moment they are born. They learn to control it, just as I have.” Thor said, shrugging slightly as he gripped the sides of his chair. “You will too. It just takes time.”
For a moment, something shone in Raya’s eyes; something suspiciously like hope, like a desperate wanting.
Then, crimson consumed her pupils, and she dropped her gaze from his, her face tightening once again.
“It is nothing good. I am nothing good, and my presence has cursed your planet.” She said, her voice much stronger now, as if her words were easier to believe. “I am a disease that must be purged from the Earth, and the burden of what shall occur rests on me.”
Thor looked at her, trying to figure out how to continue, but the expression on her face told him that it was time to go, and he slowly stood, worry lodging itself in his heart.
“My mistakes will not be your ruin.” Raya said, her tone sincere. “No one will dishonour their lives by saving mine.”
Thor held her gaze for a few more moments, and the determination in her eyes made him feel sick; she still looked lost, confused, but there was something else, something he was sure he hadn’t meant to place in her mind.
He simply nodded to her, and she tilted her head towards him in a manner of goodbye, resting her head on her knees as she did so, her fingertips now tapping rhythmically against her thigh, as if she were counting something.
Lost in his own mind, he barely had a thought to spare for the gaggle of agents that swept past him into their own bunkers as he left Raya be, feeling completely unsettled by their conversation.
There was nothing he could say to shift her thinking, he knew that much. He couldn’t stop her from harming herself, and even trying might just send her further into this spiral she had found herself lost in.
He couldn’t risk it, but he was concerned. Not only for them, and how they were going to handle this turn of events, but her , and what she thought the right thing to do was.
He had never truly been a patient man, but all they could do now, was wait.
*
Madrid, Spain.
S.H.I.E.L.D. safety bunker, Madrid.
4:35pm, May 16th, 2012.
The vent was vibrating under his hands, a slow, rhythmic beat, and Clint stared up at the metal surrounding him, controlling his breathing and calming his heart.
He had been putting off thinking too hard about everything for so long, but now that he was alone, silence pressing in around him, his mind was whirring.
Clint splayed his fingers over the metal, waiting for the telltale thrumming to expand under his hands, and as cool air blew over his sweat stained skin, his lips parted to let out a sigh of relief.
The air left his chest in one smooth exhale, and his mind eased itself, but worries were still clinging to the edges of his mind.
No one was doing well. Natasha had disappeared into a conference room, clutching a broken painting in her hands, and when he had stepped forwards to greet her, her wide eyes had warned him to stay away.
Steve hadn’t been speaking much; he seemed too lost in his head at the moment, his features always set into a look of concerned concentration, and every time Clint had approached him, his expression was haunted. Afraid.
Thor had been wandering around with a dark look on his face, swinging his hammer back and forth, and Bruce had apparently crawled so deeply into himself that he could barely talk.
In the last few hours, he had only seen Tony once, and the man had been twitching awfully, the bags under his eyes prevalent, and he’d almost knocked himself out on the corner of a wall because his nose was too deeply buried in a screen.
He’d only felt Raya’s presence, almost like a phantom pain, echoing through his nerves and setting his teeth on edge each time the floor shook with the force of her blows against the titanium walls of the training room.
For a while, there had been frenzied strikes against a far away wall, but then it had fallen deathly silent, and Clint had decided to seclude himself from his teammates.
He couldn’t deal with their heavy breathing, their tapping fingers, their worried whispers, it had been driving his heart rate up, sending him half insane, so he had switched off his aid, just to get a moment of relief.
He felt guilty for it, but ultimately decided that if they truly needed him that badly, they would message him or smoke him out.
Besides, it was only for a little bit. Just to regain his bearings.
He shifted slightly, spinning around to rest his face against the cool metal, but before he could lay his face down, his eyes caught on someone through the grate, moving slowly below him.
As quietly as he could, he leant forwards, trying to get a clearer view of them, and his eyes narrowed as they fixed on Loki.
The god was pacing back and forth, his hands twisted in his hair, and it was with a jolt of shock that Clint realised he was coated in blood.
He kept his eyes on him, and as Loki turned, Clint realised his eyes were closed, his lips moving fast, almost as if he were talking to himself, trying to ward off something with a prayer.
He tried to reach up and turn his aid back on, but his elbow bumped against the corner of the vent, and dread rushed through him as he kept his gaze trained on Loki.
Thankfully, the god didn’t seem to notice, but as Clint slowly returned his hand to rest before him, giving up on his endeavour and simply watching him.
Suddenly, Loki froze, and his eyes flew open, a bright blue light shimmering in them, and then his head snapped over to the door Clint knew was on the far side of the room.
Clint squinted his eyes as he watched Loki’s lips moving, his heart hammering inside his chest as he caught a few words:
“…Have no clue… Blame him… kill… plans to fail… Rome…”
His heart wrenched, and he pressed his hand against his mouth to stifle the gasp he felt slipping up his throat.
It was him. He should’ve known.
Below him, Loki’s entire body shuddered, and then the god collapsed, his back hunched over as he gripped the floor with his hands, and Clint let out a slow breath as his mind whirred.
He should’ve trusted his gut. It was right in front of his face, right there, so clear that he should’ve never considered anything else, but he’d been so focused on Raya that he’d overlooked it.
Loki was the mole.
After everything that happened in New York, it shouldn’t have even been a question of ‘if’ he would betray them.
Just a question of when.
He had been there, in every meeting, every conversation, because Raya had needed to be there too; maybe that had been his plan all along? To manipulate Raya into valuing his opinion, to weave his way into her mind and make her believe he was innocent, only to betray her at the moment it mattered the most.
Loki slowly forced himself back to his feet, his jaw set as he glanced wildly around for something , and Clint held his breath, feeling as if the anger welling up in his chest was about to strangle him alive, but Loki didn’t look up.
Instead, he glanced both ways yet again, his expression hidden, and then turned away into another doorway, disappearing from his line of sight.
Clint let out a shaky breath, relaxing against the vent beneath him, his panic fading away, but his rage remained.
He had to tell the others.
As if on cue, the phone attached to his hip buzzed silently, and he patted down his body to retrieve it, struggling to lift it to his eyes in the cramped space of the vent.
‘We found them. Rome is evacuating because we were able to pinpoint their position; they’re headed for the Colosseum.’
Natasha messaged shined brightly at him, and Clint held the phone in shaking hands for a moment, studying it, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it.
‘Don’t tell anyone else. Meet me in the conference room. Need to talk now.’
Slowly, he began to crawl back out of the vent as his mind continued to spin out of control, becoming more and more irritated each time he thought over a moment he should’ve pieced it together, where he should’ve trusted his gut.
The second Loki had pushed Raya against that wall, choking with nothing but hatred in his eyes, he should’ve let his gun silence that asshole’s mouth forever.
Loki would get what was coming for him.
He would make sure of it.
Chapter 20: Why Does My Heart Cry?
Summary:
MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE IDEA OF THIS FIC, GUYS!!! i remember it like it was yesterday, sitting down to write chapter 1 after planning so much of it during a marvel binge with one of my best friends. anyway, I hope the holidays are treating everyone well, because this chapter is literally so painful. I cried like 10 times while writing, and that's not an exaggerated number by any means.
Another thing! I have oneshots of rayaloki from different ideas I've randomly had about them over the past year, and I was wondering if y'all would be interested to read them? So far, they're literally the fluffiest cutest things I've ever written, usually because I started them to escape the depression of planning a WYKYK chapter lmfao. Anyway, let me know and I'll see what I can do about that!
for my darlings, my best friends, my avid readers, el, sunnie, k n brookie <3 love u to pieces
special mention to the reader who's been blowing up my comments, ur quite literally my new favourite person!!!
chapter title from el tango de Roxanne from moulin rouge
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rome, Italy.
Temple of Mars Ultor.
7:35am, May 17th, 2012.
The thoughts stung, and that was what confused her most.
Strange. All of them. Everyone. Loki. Wrong.
It was wrong.
It was wrong.
It was wrong.
A weak heart in Tony’s chest, beating unsteadily. It wouldn’t take more than one moment to drain out his life. Would his eyes fix on hers as he bled?
Natasha’s shattered elbow, resealed by time. An easy break, an ache to intensify. Would she fall quickly, and then rise again to face her bravely?
Lightning turned inward, burning out his insides. Thor would only draw breath to scream. Would he be afraid of death?
Bruce. His limbs, so easy to pull off, to tear away and leave him flailing, bleeding. How would he cry?
Steve’s shield, embedded in his skull. Cracking open, blood cascading over fearful eyes. Would he try to save himself, or stumble in front of someone else?
An arrow, plunged into Clint’s chest, again and again, choking to death. Would he scream?
Would Loki say her name when she broke his legs? Would he look at her, his eyes burning with hatred, when she crushed his ribs under her hands?
Would she wish she hadn’t done it, as he took his last breaths in her arms?
Raya tightened her hand around her knee, squeezing her eyes closed, and she took in a shaky breath as she forced herself to look at the shifting floor beneath her.
This wasn’t safe, for any of them. She wasn’t safe, she shouldn’t be here, surrounded by them, feeling their heartbeats inside her mind, under her skin.
She was trapped here with so many future casualties, and they didn’t care.
Her wrist stung as she wrapped her hand around it, and as she took in a breath through her nose, it burned, the bone still healing from the impact of Loki’s fist yesterday.
The memory of the fight made her feel nauseated, and the belt around her waist was so restrictive, searing into her waist, keeping her secured in her seat.
Everything felt so wrong, and her eyes were burning again.
Natasha had made it sound so simple; the humans were all evacuated now, all gone from Rome and taken to shelters so that they could secure a perimeter around the Colosseum. So that they could fight, kill, win.
But now, Clint was glaring at Loki, and Loki was staring at the floor, his face filled with so much hatred. Thor was standing off to the side, his jaw set to match the tension in his shoulders, and Tony was tapping his fingers against the back of his hand, his breaths short and fearful. Bruce wasn’t looking up, was barely breathing, and Steve was clutching at his shield like a lifeline, as if he was hoping for its protection to hide him away from everything.
She had done this. All of it, was her fault.
Raya knew that, and it ached, that strange, unsettling feeling wrapping around her heart again, squeezing it and choking her.
I am sorry . I am sorry. I am sorry.
She was waiting for anything to happen as she tapped her index finger against her palm; the walls of the truck to cave again, the glass windows to crack, the fresh blood of the S.H.I.E.L.D agents driving to spill over the seats they resided in.
It would kill them all, and it wouldn’t go away, would it?
Her fingers twitched as they drove over a bump in the road, her breaths short as her eyes flicked between all of them, all her victims, waiting to be slaughtered.
It was wrong, the way her body seemed to tremble at the thought.
The steady rhythm of his heartbeat faltered, skipping a few beats, and Raya glanced up to see Loki watching her.
She wanted to flinch away from the panic that tried to throttle her as she held his gaze, but she was frozen under his stare, all her bruises burning in memory of his hands against her.
Too much, too much, too much-
There was a cut along his jawline, leading up towards his left eye, half healed over and pink against his pale skin.
Raya remembered her claws in his face, hurting him, watching him yell.
She only hurt him. Everyone. All of them.
She was a curse. A sin to be drowned in the waves brought forth by Tethys’ wrath.
She couldn’t breathe.
Loki’s eyes were narrowed as he watched her, and she could hear people talking, but everything was so loud, there was something tugging at her, pulling her to her feet-
“Pull over, now !”
Tony’s voice was sharp, forceful, but she didn’t look up, couldn’t see past the tears blinding her-
“We’re too close, no, Raya! ”
Her hands were throwing open the door of the truck, and then she was falling, collapsing onto the stone road, the harsh impact knocking the wind from her lungs.
There was something pulling her forwards, drawing her in, and she was running towards the feeling, ripping at her bodysuit as her skin crawled.
Raya sucked in a deep breath as wind swirled around her, hot and biting as her feet knocked into rocks that lined the ground before her, and she could feel them crushing, snapping, like skulls, like bones-
She was sent sprawling over the ground as her ankle hooked around a bed of stone, and spines pricking at her skin as panic caused her to blink rapidly, her hands clawing at stone and grass as she tried to breathe.
There was blood everywhere.
Splatters of it were all around her, marking the stone beneath her body, plastered over the crumbling columns before her, and as she shakily pushed herself to her feet, the scent hit her, forcing its way into her mouth, down her throat-
Sweet and metallic, seared into her memory, burning on her tongue, and she could see bodies falling, white robes fluttering through the air around her, raining down in a tribute, bones crunching against the reality of their sacrifice.
She couldn’t feel anything but fear.
It was cold, unrelenting, hurting her as she saw them dying, her head spinning as she crawled forwards on her knees, the stairs before her cracking under her scraping fingers, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.
An altar beneath her feet.
She pressed her palms to the ground as her body trembled, and even though she fought hard against the overwhelming breathlessness, tears spilled from her eyes, each one a disgrace.
Raya wasn’t sure what she was pleading for as she forced her forehead against the ground, but as tremors wracked her body, she wanted it to stop, this panicking, this fear.
It needed to stop, she didn’t want to feel like this, it hurt, it hurt-
Quaeso.
Inside her heart, something shifted.
Adiuva me quaeso.
Nothing happened.
Raya screamed.
Her throat was tearing open, claws of anguish ripping into her oesophagus as she cried out, and it was reverberating through her entire body, aching intensely as she slammed her fists into the ground.
It wasn’t loud enough.
It never would be.
There were heartbeats following her, but Raya didn’t look up, unable to lift her head as pain tore through her chest, through her stomach, sensitizing her nerves and drowning her in her anger, her fear, her panic.
They weren’t ever safe. Not with her here.
Heat was bursting underneath her skin, her skin cracking as energy thrummed through her body, every breath searing as it emptied from melted lungs.
“Ease, child. Breathe.”
Raya lifted her head, blinking away her tears as the memory overtook her mind, phantom warmth caressing her cheek as gentle fingers brushed a long, loose curl behind her ear, and then the altar was gone.
He didn’t scream or yell when he knelt before her.
The man was careful, his dark eyes so much like her own, and as he cupped her small face in far too large hands, the expression on his face had confused her.
His lips, downturned. His eyes, shadowed yet soft. His brows, furrowed.
Sad.
“I know it hurts.” He had whispered, and Raya looked up at him, tears blurring her vision, hiding parts of his face. “But you are so strong, puellula. Do not give in to her.”
She nodded, and he had cradled her face for a few more moments, before a scream had caused him to step away.
The last thing she had seen was the fierce warmth in his eyes.
“Fight.”
“Raya!”
The memory dissipated as heartbeats pressed in around her, and she sucked in a broken breath as she forced herself up onto her feet, her hands grabbing at her own face.
The memory, it wasn’t shiny. It was soft, clear.
Familiar.
Raya knew with sudden certainty, as she sucked in her next shaky breath, that it had been real .
She looked around wildly, her chest heaving as she clutched at her cheeks, and was met with Thor and Loki’s fearful expressions, their bodies tense, anticipating the worst.
Guilt and vindication clashed in her stomach, crafting a sickening sense of dread as she shook her head, stepping away from them.
They needed to be scared. They had to be. It was the only thing that kept them alive.
“Raya.”
Loki’s voice was too quiet, but her eyes snapped over to his anyway.
Her vision tunnelled onto him, onto the way his skin tightened as her gaze locked on his, to the way his heart stuttered in his chest, and her breathing slowed at the soft look in his eyes.
Wrong.
“Loki.” She breathed out, her knees feeling weak under her as horror swept through her, his name cutting her tongue. “I need to be here.”
Thor’s heartbeat was uneven, but Loki’s stayed the same, and she watched as he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Then be.” He said calmly, and as Loki lowered himself to the ground, his legs folding beneath him, Raya felt her knees buckle.
Too easy.
Again, she was on the ground, but now, she could breathe.
She shouldn’t be allowing herself to give in. To let her guard fall, not after everything, not when she couldn’t understand her own mind, but now Thor was sitting beside her, and her hands weren’t shaking as hard.
It was all too much to think about, all the thoughts, the memories, the feelings , but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape her own head.
Raya forced herself to reorient her thoughts, and finally looked around, her mind still spinning as her eyes slid over her surroundings, strangely familiar and unnerving.
The cracked columns stretched towards the cloudy sky, stark white against the grey of the coming storm, and though grass had crept between the crumbling stone under her feet, it was clear that the empty air around them was once part of what she now realised was a temple.
She could see similarities between this place, and the temples on Cirica; the stone dais was missing, but the place they all rested on now, a marble circle in the centre of the floor, was familiar.
She remembered throwing her body down in this place, begging to be forgiven by those who controlled her for her failures, for her weaknesses, just as she had now.
Raya swallowed hard, tapping her fingers over her knuckles, her head bowed before her as she crossed her legs, her throat still burning.
She could hear Thor muttering something, his hand raised to his ear, but she was too focused on Loki’s heart to properly make out his words, steadying her breaths to match the beats of his heart.
She didn’t like this, the way her mind drew itself towards him for comfort. It didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t stop it, and it only left her feeling hopeless.
There it was again.
That same tugging, pulling at her heart, at her mind.
The whispers in her mind weren’t malevolent, and she didn’t understand why, but then her hands were moving, her gloved fingers digging into the dirt beside the marble.
Crimson flickered up her arms, curling around her fingers, and the warmth was gentle, slipping into her breaths and slowly easing her tremors.
As her mind calmed, however, the knot of dread in her stomach seemed to separate, tendrils of doubt creeping up her throat, encircling her heart, and she tried to push away the weight in her mind, there were too many-
Fear, unforgiving yet crestfallen, stung at her, urging her to piece it together, to figure it out, and her gaze hardened as she fought to comprehend.
It didn’t make sense.
Three. Three didn’t make sense.
There were three of them here, but her own mind, it didn’t carry this weight.
Then, she heard it.
The edge to his breathing, as if more mass had been placed on his shoulders, the body she was so attuned to shifting so minutely that she might’ve missed it.
No. Not him.
Raya slowly turned her head towards Loki, the feeling of his eyes on her sending horrible shivers down her spine, and inside her head, she could hear her own consciousness screaming.
I told you so.
Her next exhale was shaky as she straightened her back, locking her gaze on his.
“You are not Loki.” She whispered, and in her peripheral vision, she saw Thor turn to look at her, but she didn’t look away from Loki’s shocked expression.
For a moment, Raya questioned herself.
In the space between her breaths, she wondered if she had gotten it wrong, if everything she’d added up in her mind had been incorrect.
But then, Loki’s features tightened, and she felt that recognizable pulse of power radiating off his body, the power that ran through his veins so different from his own.
As a harsh laugh fell from his lips, she knew.
The god before her wasn’t Loki anymore, but that didn’t mean she didn’t know him.
“My, my, princess .” The Great One said in Loki’s voice, his words grating and heavy. “And I thought I was doing so well. Whatever gave me away?”
Raya’s hand clamped down on Thor’s shoulder, pulling him to his feet as she began to back away from Loki, her mind still spinning as she held his gaze.
“You were too careful.” Raya said, barely holding her voice steady as she pushed Thor behind her, not allowing herself to think as she shielded him. “Loki would not have been.”
Loki tutted, an awful smile spreading across his face as he shook his head.
“If he were any less insufferable, perhaps I would have paid more attention.”
All the green was gone, but his eyes were still glowing, shining brightly.
A clear, unbroken shade of blue .
*
Universe 724, Cirica.
TIME: UKNOWN.
DATE: UNKNOWN.
Drip.
The taste of blood was so foul now.
Rotting on his tongue, burning through his veins as his name was torn apart by prayers of torture, of hurt.
No one remained righteous anymore.
They only spoke his name with hate, spat it as an insult to scrabble the minds of their enemies.
He was beginning to relish the silence brought forth by faithlessness.
Drip.
His wrists ached as the chains around his wrists rattled, and Mars set his jaw as blood trickled down his arms; scraped raw by the injustice of it all.
Traitor.
His rage simmered beneath all the pain, boiling his insides and frying his heart, searing revulsion into his very skin, and he spat bitterly at the ground as he glared at the stone beneath him.
Fuelling Discordia’s power drained him, and it didn’t matter what he did to fight it, the burn beneath his feet sapped him of his strength and entrapped him further.
Drip.
The shackles around his feet tightened as a thrill of anger tore through him, and as he breathed out harshly, the metal clamped around his tongue cut into his gums, into his cheeks, and he winced.
Drip.
As water slid down his face, he grunted, trying to ignore the incessant torture of the liquid as it steadily dropped onto his forehead.
Tethys was everywhere, all the time, and the thought caused his gut to twinge.
Drip.
Fear threatened to crawl up his throat and choke him, and as he tried to swallow it, blood gushed from the cuts in his mouth, and he gagged against the taste.
Cirica had been so silent, and Mars knew the rebellion had fallen flat. He knew that the people had no perception of his existence; he was only the god that was forced into their minds as a placeholder, and their prayers were a directed stream of consciousness that tormented him with their malice.
Drip.
In all his pain, as the familiar ache of rage settled in him once again, Mars knew he was alone, and he wished he were abandoned.
Then, he wouldn’t hold any hope. Then, he wouldn’t see her face in his nightmares so often, only to be confronted with the revolting reality of her body against his again, again, again.
Discordia had carved herself into his mind, and completely mutilated his heart.
There was no forgiveness for everything she had done to him. To his family.
To his love.
Tears welled up in his eyes, and he knew what it would mean, but he still cried out as the wall cracked behind him, and a stone spike drove itself through his back, its blood covered tip protruding from his stomach.
The awful pain was so familiar now.
Drip.
Through the anguish, through the scream that tore at his lungs and the hatred that clawed at him, taking the shape of her hands, suddenly, there was a voice.
A gentle prayer. A plea for understanding.
A cry for help.
His eyes snapped open, tears streaming down his scarred cheeks, shock wracking his broken body as he recognised her call, the echo of his own blood in her screams.
Raya.
*
Rome, Italy.
Temple of Mars Ultor.
7:57 am, May 17th, 2012.
The first blow was harsher than usual.
Loki’s fist slammed into her jaw, and she caught him by the wrist, but as she pulled him towards her, he headbutted her harshly in the nose.
The anger that had lain simmering in her chest drew in the pain, bursting into flames of rage, and as she blinked away tears, she kicked him in the stomach.
Loki groaned in pain, but before she could blink, he was on her, his hands around her throat as he forced her into the rocks beneath them.
“Look at you…” The Great One spat, his voice scraping at her mind as she tugged at his fingers, fighting to free herself. “Growing vulnerable in the face of inferior competitors.”
Raya turned her head and sunk her teeth into his forearm, and as he yelled, she grabbed his sides and drove her knee into his chest, her claws digging through her gloves and into the fabric of his clothing.
It wasn’t him, it wasn’t Loki, but his body was the one taking the beating, and each time her hands left a bruise across his skin, she felt her chest grow tighter.
Weak .
“What makes you so certain he hasn’t been working for me, keeping an eye on you?” The Great One’s words needled at her, and she felt her skin prickle as she felt his hands close around her neck again, drawing a frustrate groan from her. “What makes you believe he isn’t a spy, that all his pitiful little memories aren’t just our doing?”
Loki’s skin was pulsing, blue leaking into his flesh, and as she gasped for breath, her hands clawed frantically at his hair and wrenched his head back.
As his body reared with the tug, Raya rolled out from beneath him, and Thor’s hammer missed her face by inches.
She hurriedly glanced over at him, wiping the tears from her eyes as she clambered to her feet, and lightning flickered around the god’s forearms as he caught his weapon in one hand.
Loki bared his teeth towards his brother, his eyes wild, and as Thor threw himself at him, Raya moved at the same time, diving for Loki’s legs.
The impact of the hammer against Loki’s jaw sent a resounding crack echoing around the ruined temple, and a shout fell from his lips as he hit the ground hard.
Raya clawed at his legs with gloved fingertips, pushing his body beneath hers, her hand curling around a cracked piece of stone, and as she heard The Great One laugh, anger swept through her, hot and vicious.
As she raised the makeshift weapon, her legs squeezing around Loki’s waist, his features flickered into fear, his eyes widening, and her breath froze in her lungs.
She hesitated.
Loki’s hand shot out to grab her wrist, slamming the rock into the side of her own head, and she growled in pain, her fangs sliding through her gums as her head spun, red bleeding into her vision.
He flung her off him, and she scrambled uselessly for purchase as she was thrown hard into one of the columns, her spine cracking as the marble fractured under her weight.
“Pathetic!” The Great One yelled, and his tone was mocking as he held up his hand, freezing Thor mid advance with a simple flick of his fingers. “Your Empress made me believe that reluctance was the last thing I would see in your eyes.”
Green light sharpened into knives around Loki’s fingertips, and his eyes flashed darkly as he flattened his palm and swiped his arm to the side, sending the weapons deep into Thor’s breastplate.
One of them clipped the side of his head, the pommel knocking into his temple, and Thor’s eyelids fluttered as Mjolnir slipped from between his fingers.
Raya screamed as she watched his knees buckle beneath him, and the world seemed to shatter as rage tore her heart open, heat searing through her body.
“I suppose your time apart has tainted her once great champion.” The Great One taunted, and Raya shrugged off the white dust that clung to her bodysuit as she turned her gaze towards him. “You have become complacent, child.”
Loki raised his hand, and hatred flooded her, raw and rough, as she watched horns extend from beneath his dark hair, red leaking into the white of his sclera.
It wasn’t him. He was only a host for the being she despised.
She couldn’t cling to this feeling, it would only hinder her, but as her eyes darted over to Thor’s trembling form, as her mind flitted back to the humans waiting for them to return only a short distance away, it stuck to her heart.
They depended on her to protect them.
To avenge them, for all the suffering The Great One had already caused them in his pursuit for power.
As the thought crossed her mind, as she heard Loki’s voice shift back to his own to release a cry of pain, something swept past her, a stinging sensation curling up her arm as a heavy weight pressed into her hand.
“I know you will make me proud, puella mea.”
Raya lowered her eyes as she closed her hand around the handle of her sword and felt her head swimming with too many memories.
“My greatest soldier.”
As her mother’s voice echoed through her head, her anger spiked, and she gripped her sword with two hands, fire blazing down her arms as she lifted her eyes again.
The Great One was watching her, his body larger, ridges marking his face, glowing white horns stretching up towards the sky, and Loki’s features set themselves into a grimace as he let out a bark of a laugh.
“Calling for your father’s blessing.” He hissed mockingly, and Raya set her stance, following his every movement as he slowly drew closer, daggers fashioned from thin air slipping between his fingers. “How cowardly.”
She had no time to question his words, to process her thoughts as she forced deep breaths through her protesting lungs, steeling herself for the fight to come.
“A true coward hides behind another’s face.” She shot back, and as anger flashed across Loki’s face, she swung her sword towards his head.
He caught her downward slant with his knives, grunting as he pushed back against her weight, but before he could regain his footing, she jumped back on one foot and swiped harshly at his side.
The tip of her sword barely grazed the plates of his armour as he spun out of her way, the movement smooth as he flung his head forwards.
His dark hair cascaded down around his burning eyes, around his arrogant smirk, and for the first time, Raya felt her certainty waver.
The light in his eyes had shifted into something wilder, fiercer, than she had ever seen it, and as she gripped her sword tightly, raising it in defence, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the complete confidence in his expression.
It had been hundreds of years since she had fought an opponent who truly had nothing to lose, and even as her fingers twitched around her weapon, her gaze locked on his as he began circling her, she knew she had never felt this sense of fear.
Never before, had she cared whether or not her enemy survived.
“Look at you, so concerned for this useless god.” The Great One taunted, and Raya blinked away the tears in her eyes, twisting her hands irritably around her sword. “All your power, all your strength, failing you, because you learned to care .”
Raya gritted her teeth, flames prickling at her arms as he dived at her, and the clash of their weapons echoed through the temple, her arms steady as she secured him in her stance.
She drove her knee deep into his stomach, and as Loki swung wildly at her, breaking free from the lock between them, she only pushed further in, catching his strikes with the edge of her blade.
Tightening her grip on her sword with her right hand, she slanted her left shoulder and grabbed onto one of his wrists, charging forwards and slamming her shoulder into his jaw to disorient him.
Loki’s dagger sliced downwards as she forced him away, and she stifled a shout of agony as his weapon lodged itself firmly into her thigh.
Before he could rip it out, she hit him across the face with the pommel of her sword, the momentum of her swing sending him careening to the right, and she stumbled back from him, her own hand wrapping around the handle of the dagger buried in her skin.
Pain seared through her nerves, and she let out a sigh of relief as it gnawed at her, a physical presence, something she could grasp, something she could explain.
Panting, she tore the dagger from her skin, her eyes still locked on Loki’s watching as the bright blue darkened at the sight of her blood flowing over her bodysuit.
For a moment, regret tainted his features, pulling apart the confidence in his expression and uncovering his heart, the one she knew still held remorse, that held sympathy.
It shouldn’t have hurt her so badly when his features hardened, and another dagger slipped between his fingers, setting his stance to continue their fight.
It wouldn’t have hurt, if she hadn’t realised that this meant Loki had been lying to her since she’d arrived on Earth, since she’d been thrown into his body and threatened to cut his throat.
Because if this was hatred in his eyes now, with The Great One using his face, forcing His disgust for her out of the features she’d grown so familiar with, Raya had no idea what to make of the way Loki had looked at her before.
Raya raised her sword, letting it set them apart, to settle in the space between them as she tried to reconcile the ache in her heart.
She couldn’t kill him.
Not because her muscles had failed her, or because it was against her orders, but because she didn’t want to.
She didn’t want to.
But everyone else had to come first. They mattered more.
Her mind was whirring as she lunged at him, swiping down at his neck with her blade, and The Great One barely caught the strike, grunting as she pushed herself against him.
She tore her right glove off with her teeth, anger, confusion, sorrow burning beneath her skin, sending waves of fire over her flesh, and as her sword clashed against Loki’s daggers, she used the movement to propel herself forwards.
Her bare hand reached out, scrabbling in the open air as she locked his arms in place.
Raya breathed in, bracing for the ache as her palm pressed against his forehead, his skin soft under her fingers, unlike anything she had ever felt before.
Shock raced through her, taking the place of pain, pain that should’ve been there, and as heat rushed through her nerves, burning through her fingertips, it didn’t make sense.
Then, the world around her erupted into golden light, and her consciousness separated from her still fighting body, throwing itself into Loki’s mind.
The pain never came.
*
LOCATION: UNKNOWN.
7:57 am, May 17th, 2012.
The vines around his wrists were glowing.
The thorns were pressing into his skin, cutting him deeply, but as Loki tried to scream, nothing came out of his mouth.
No one was around to hear him struggle.
Vaguely, Loki was aware of something; a heavy impact against him, thudding, again, again, again, but he couldn’t make out anything, trapped behind blurred over glass with tears burning in his eyes.
There were shapes moving in the corners of his vision, but when they cleared for a single moment, the vines around his limbs tightened, and his blood spilled out over the stone beneath him, tainting the grey a stark crimson.
Everything smelt acidic, like plastic burning in the back of his throat, and he choked on the taste of the blue tinted air, his head aching as another blow slammed into his shoulder, his knees aching terribly beneath him.
It was so cold.
His body was shivering, and as pain shot through his jaw, into his stomach, he could feel his fingers going numb.
He cried out as he tugged harshly at the restraints, but he couldn’t free himself, and as he looked down, his breath stuttering in the cold air, he could see his body pulsating, the pale skin flooding with a rich blue.
No.
Loki pulled harder at the vines, panic welling up in him as the blue rose higher, spreading out over his bare stomach, climbing his chest, inching up his throat-
Scars were carving themselves into the side of his face, and as the stone beneath him shivered and shattered, he could see his reflection; pale blue lines stretching over his cheeks, leading to bright red eyes.
It hurt, everything hurt, but as he bowed his head, trying to kick himself free, he only succeeded in slicing his palm open on the stone.
His blood, leaking from his palm red, hit the ground blue.
His chest heaving, Loki let out a scream, the sound scraping at his chest, at his throat, but it wasn’t enough to cover the voices inside his mind, reminding him that he truly was a monster.
Warmth.
It came in a rush, breaking over him in waves, and as he inhaled shakily, his chest expanded gratefully, the air no longer biting at his skin.
It was everywhere, sweeping in all around him, a beacon of shimmering gold and white, and he felt the vines around his wrists quiver as if in fear, arching away from the heat.
It wasn’t burning, not the same way the cold was, no, this was softer, gentler, the warmth pressing in around his face, cupping his cheeks and easing away the pain.
“Loki.” The warmth breathed, its voice pulling him in deeper, enveloping him in its familiarity. “I need you to fight against Him.”
His teeth still chattering, his voice still gone, Loki shook his head, tears leaking down his face as the warmth caressed his cheek.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t free himself from these shackles, from Thanos’ grip. He’d driven himself too deep into something he never wanted to understand, and he deserved this pain.
“You deserve a chance.” The warmth whispered, and the glowing mass of golden light flickered, alight with crimson as a phantom blow collided with his face. “You always have.”
“You deserved a chance to explain.”
“We can stop it. Together.”
The two voices intertwined in his mind, their call so familiar as the warmth slid under his jaw, holding his face tenderly, and he turned his cheek towards the comfort it offered, desperate for its gentle embrace.
“Come back.” The warmth whispered, and Loki could feel the vines retracting, shrivelling up in the face of the burn, but he only leaned further into it. “ Fight .”
His throat was aching, but as the tears dried on his skin, Loki forced out a single word, determination flooding his nerves as he felt the tremors leave his body.
“ Help .”
The warmth flickered again, shifting slowly into the form of someone he knew; blonde hair, blue eyes, and as he felt a hand clamp down over his shoulder, their name solidified itself in his mind.
Thor.
Thor’s face shifted in the bright light, and now brown eyes stared back at him, intense and understanding, dark hair curling around scarred cheeks, and Loki let out a harsh breath.
Raya.
The warmth rested against his forehead, and his hand, still bleeding from the thorns, came up automatically to hold it, surprise flitting through him as his fingers pressed into something solid.
Their faces flashed back and forth, their features switching and shimmering in the warmth’s light, but as the heat slipped through his fingertips, spreading out through his body, Loki could feel the weight on his mind burning away.
The warmth cradled him gently, wisps of light tracing over his skin, and for a moment, he felt the tension leave his soul.
Then, he breathed in, and pain wracked his body, white hot, searing, rushing into his lungs, under his skin, engulfing his heart.
His chest collapsed in on itself, and the world around him broke apart as a scream was wrenched from the furthest reaches of his consciousness, echoed by every cell in his body, every nerve in his system.
The white gold plastered itself to his eyes, pushing itself into his mouth, blinding him to the blue, and something was clawing it him, hooking into his shoulders and pulling him back from the stone.
For the first time, with more certainty than he had ever held in his life, Loki knew he was free.
*
Rome, Italy.
Temple of Mars Ultor.
8:10 am, May 17th, 2012.
Her arms were moving, her body still fighting, her sword tight in her hands, familiar rage and ingrained instinct driving its movement forwards as she was ripped from Loki’s head.
Her mistake was marked by Thor’s broken scream.
Loki’s body was shaking as red light encircled him, and Raya could feel the attachment in his mind draining away, but instead of a scream, a dark laugh ripped through the air.
The Great One stared back at her, and a sadistic smile curled Loki’s lips as she held his gaze, her arms aching.
“Still… the warrior… you were made to be.” The Great One spat in Loki’s wavering voice, and then, the weight in the back of her mind was gone.
Loki looked down at the sword buried in the centre of his chest, and in a second, his eyes shifted back to green, panic burning through his expression as the light around him dispersed.
Raya could feel his heart thrumming through her hands, through the metal as all certainty, all anger, disappeared from her heart, and realisation hit her, sending her mind reeling.
No.
“Raya…” Loki sputtered, and blood dribbled from between his lips as his hands scrabbled weakly at the sword. “I didn’t… I…”
No.
She was frozen, stuck in her mistake as her heart pounded hard against her chest, and she didn’t know what to do.
Hundreds of years of training. Thousands of hours spent perfecting movements.
Nothing to prepare her for the torturous feeling of shock and horror that cut through her heart as she felt Loki’s hot blood slipping over her fingers.
Her hands were shaking around the handle of her sword, and now Loki was coughing.
He was dying .
Thor had crawled to her side, still dazed from The Great One’s attack, his expression torn apart by horror, and Raya didn’t want to, but she had to.
She pulled the sword out of Loki’s chest, her hands trembling, and his eyes rolled as he collapsed onto the ground, a torrent of blood spilling out over the grass as his chest shakily rose and fell.
“No…” Raya stuttered breathlessly, and the sword clattered onto the stone as she dropped to her knees beside him. “No, no, no-”
Loki’s face was paling quickly, his eyes going glassy as his head rolled to the side, and Raya could barely focus when Thor hit the ground next to her, her every nerve attuned to the sound of Loki’s heartbeat failing .
He looked so confused, and she couldn’t see her gloves through the haze of her tears, but there wasn’t time-
“Help-” She was barely breathing, but she reached out blindly for Thor’s armour, grateful to meet the cold metal. “Take it away, take it away-”
Despite her incoherence, Thor seemed to understand, something she would have appreciated more if it didn’t feel like she was choking.
His hands were quick, even though she could see the tremors in his fingers, and he was tearing away the leather on Loki’s chest, and Raya’s heart wrenched as Loki cried out, tears streaming down his face.
“I know, I know…” She whispered brokenly, fighting to think of something to say, some way to comfort him. “I know it hurts, I am sorry, I-”
The world was swaying all around her as Loki looked up at her, not really seeing as his hand pressed weakly into her knee, and she stifled a harsh sob as she raised her hands above his exposed skin.
There were too many feelings, too much, the heat in her blood searing them away as energy rushed through her.
They didn’t matter.
Only this mattered.
Hot energy raced out of her fingertips, forcing itself deep into his chest, under his flesh, and she muffled a scream against her shoulder as the heat tore at her nerves.
Everything was hurting, she was overexerting herself, but Loki’s breaths were getting shorter.
It didn’t matter.
She didn’t matter.
She had done this to him, freed his mind only to confine him to death, and she deserved this pain.
Thor was holding down Loki’s shoulders, his face contorted in panic, and he was saying something to his brother, but she couldn’t hear him over the thrumming of her own heart.
As her magic pulsed beneath his skin, mixing with his flesh, Loki screamed, and Raya had to force herself to keep still, to stop the raw, awful feeling of loss from ripping away at her insides.
She could feel her dying beneath her fingers.
Drea’s skin was blackened by her flames, and Raya was on her knees beside her, sobbing as panic, terror, guilt ripped through her.
“No… No, I did not-” Her words were caught in her throat, barely making it out of her lungs, but then the girl below her let out a shaky breath.
With her final breath, Drea whispered, her quiet words seeming to echo off the temple’s high walls as Raya clutched at her body.
“It is okay.”
“No!” Raya shouted, willing the memory far away, pushing it back into the far reaches of her mind as her fingers trembled, and she focused all her energy onto the wound in Loki’s chest.
He wouldn’t die, wouldn’t become a half-formed recollection in her mind like that woman, wouldn’t become just another terrifying feeling attached to a memory she didn’t understand.
He couldn’t .
Raya’s breath rushed out of her, and everything burned.
“Please. ”
Notes:
Translations:
Quaeso = Please.
Adiuva me quaeso = Please help me.
puellula = means little girl but is used in a "oh my sweet little girl, are you alright?" way.
Chapter 21: The Way That You See Yourself
Summary:
hi guys. i wish i was joking when i said i cried at least 50 different times during writing this but im literally not. god, everything hurts a lot, just so much. i love them, but dear god.
anyway. hope yall are staying safe and drinking water. hope life is treating you well cause this chapter will NOT. love you all.
special thanks once again to sunnie and el, my rocks during this process. you're both gonna stuff me into a locker or something. new shoutout to my new friends, a and k <3 you guys rock and i hope you enjoy this disaster. also ty to my commentors, you guys make my whole day!
sorry this took so long, it was awful.
chapter title from everything i wanted by billie eilish.
Chapter Text
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
1:34 am, May 18th, 2012 .
The silence in the hospital was different than it had been in Madrid.
There, the air had stung with tension. Burned with unsaid words. Twisted under the scrutiny of Raya’s rage.
Now, while the walls sheltered them from the Kleviah, the anxiety from an impending attack was overshadowed by the goddess’ grief.
Raya had disappeared into the room they’d made up for Loki, a sword Tony had never seen before seeming to weigh exceedingly heavy in her hands as she’d knelt by his bedside.
She’d driven the weapon deep into the floor, gloved hand and non-gloved hand alike clutching tightly at each side of the handle, and then silently knelt in place.
The guilt that emanated from her was almost a physical thing; Tony could see it weighing on her, drawing her shoulders down, bowing her head as tears leaked from behind closed eyes and dissipated against her skin.
Her magic had apparently healed most of the wound; as Thor described it, even in her anger, Raya managed to not hit Loki’s heart or his lungs.
Thor had looked extremely pale, almost ghastly white, as he had brokenly whispered that if she had hesitated, Loki might not have survived.
That hadn’t shaken away the gloom that clung to Raya, however.
Tony had seen the look in her eyes as she’d carried Loki’s bleeding body out from that temple, her hands clutched tight around his apparently hastily replaced robes as red light infused itself into his skin.
For the first time, she had looked truly horrified, and it had terrified him.
He watched her now, from the outside of Loki’s hospital room, as rain lashed at the windows, distilling their scent and throwing off the beasts that hunted them.
Raya had barely been conscious when she explained that the rain had probably been the reason the creatures had taken so long to track them as they’d moved over the ocean; the water had warded them off, covering the boat that carried them with an intense smell of danger.
There hadn’t been much talking after that.
Tony tapped his fingers against his knee as he gazed at the goddess’ kneeling form, his arms aching to throw themselves around her, to tell her that she had done what had needed to be done, but the sight of pure anguish on her face told him he shouldn’t even consider it.
She hadn’t moved it hours, her head bowed as if she were praying, her eyes closed tightly, not letting herself gaze upon Loki’s prone form.
As if she couldn’t trust herself to do it.
Thor had been clear, when he’d begun patching himself up, apparently almost completely unhurt from the fight besides a few cuts and damaged armour, that Raya hadn’t had a choice. That one moment, Loki was with them, and the next moment, he was gone, stolen by some other force.
After that explanation, and seeing the dark, almost pleading look in Raya’s eyes, guilt had gripped Tony so harshly that he’d had to excuse himself from the group, his fingers shaking as they pressed harshly into his chest.
It was clear that this was the secret Fury had been so intent upon finding between them. That Raya had decided to protect Loki, had promised not to speak of whatever darkness had rested within him, to what end, Tony had no idea, but that wasn’t what mattered.
What mattered was that, in her eyes, she had failed, and she believed she was the only one to blame for what had happened.
It wasn’t as if they had ridiculed and prodded at Loki as if he were an animal in a cage, as if he were a being with no feeling, all because that was what they had been so desperate to believe.
Tony knew, that in all his dealings with human enemies, that they had never faltered in their ideals, because they had given up their empathy in pursuit of power that never truly mattered.
It was that, that innate need to separate good from evil, that had made him miss the blurred lines and mistake them for self-righteousness instead of powerlessness.
That had made him see scars on a proud face and never think to look deeper into what had caused the wounds.
A harsh rumble of thunder drew Tony out of his mind, and he jolted slightly, his hand grasping at the arms of his chair as his heart hammered hard against his chest.
Raya didn’t look up, but he saw her grip tighten around the handle of her sword as his heartrate increased, and something deep within him twinged sympathetically.
He couldn’t sit here and watch her fall apart, couldn’t let himself simply look on as she blamed herself for something she’d never had a choice in.
He forced himself to stand, quietly opening the door, but even as he crossed the threshold, Raya’s head didn’t turn.
Her breathing didn’t change, maintaining that same, stuttering pace, but her fingers flexed, and her shoulders shifted minutely, a hint towards her unease as much as her recognition.
He took a step closer to her, and immediately, her voice rang out, sharp and clear even in its quietness.
“Do not.”
Tony froze, and as Raya’s face finally turned towards him, his breath left him in a rush of surprise, his chest tightening.
Her eyes were puffy and red, and scars were flickering over her skin, appearing and disappearing with each broken exhale. The skin around her top lip was clearly bruising, her nose and jaw reddened by punches and awash with dried blood.
Her hair, once pulled up into a braid, had been cut much shorter, the strands messy and uneven where they hung around her shoulders, and now that he had stepped inside, he realised that pieces of it were scattered around the place she kneeled, carelessly tossed away.
When he had seen her earlier, she hadn’t looked like this, this hurt, this resigned, but he supposed she had been acting on adrenaline then, concealing her scars as a reflex to show herself as the victor.
Now, when she was falling apart, her mask followed suit, slipping away and letting him see the raw grief that lay beneath.
“ Please .” Raya whispered, her voice, once stoic and steady, wavering as she looked at him over her bicep. “Do not come closer.”
Her words were a warning as much as a plea, and Tony remained where he was, lowering his hands slowly to his sides as he held her gaze, the concern that had laid bubbling away beneath his skin flooding through his body as he took in her distraught expression.
“Raya-” He began, but then she was shaking her head hurriedly, her eyes flicking up to Loki’s body, and he lowered his voice to a whisper as he continued. “Raya, I know you won’t hurt me.”
“You do not know anything.” The goddess shot back, but the feigned anger in her tone, rather than being biting and savage, fell flat, overwhelmed by her sorrow. “I could kill you where you stand. I could drain the life from your body in a single second.”
Tony looked at her, saw the anger, the pain in her dark eyes, and against her harsh words, he simply raised his head and murmured,
“You know it wouldn’t change anything.”
A tremor moved through Raya’s fingers up to her shoulders, and he watched her sword shift slightly as she tore her eyes away from his, her gaze resting once again on Loki.
“It would not.”
Her admittance only seemed to cause her hands to tremble more harshly, but even as her breathing hitched, Tony did not move towards her.
No matter how terribly he wanted to comfort her, despite every piece of him screaming for his retreat, he couldn’t disobey her only stipulation.
This fragile bond they seemed to have made might be shattered by one wrong movement, one stupid word, and Tony didn’t want to break his only connection to her.
She needed to understand that people heard her, and that they would listen. She needed to know that it didn’t matter how she saw herself, didn’t matter if she looked into the reflection of her sword and saw a monster, because she had people who believed in her.
Tony believed that she had done what was right, he knew it in his very bones.
He trusted her judgement enough to know she had made the right choice.
Against the protests of S.H.I.E.L.D, of his teammates, of his own mind, Tony knew he trusted Raya with much more than he ever could’ve fathomed, and even if that terrified him, the fact didn’t change.
“Thor told us what happened.” He said, keeping his voice soft, and she glanced back over to him, her eyes shadowed. “We aren’t blaming you for this.”
“But you are blaming Loki.” Raya said, and the utter resignation in her tone made his hand clench around his wrist. “You are blaming him for what he has done under the control of another. I do not care for how you view me, it is of no consequence, and I cannot understand why I am offered lenience while he is offered nothing .”
Her body shifted, and then she was standing, her hair loose around her face as she shakily gripped the handle of her sword for support, her eyes red and bloodshot as they met his.
“He once asked me why I saved his life.” Raya said quietly, and Tony forced himself to remain still, the pain in her eyes seeming to puncture his own soul. “Why I tore a klevia from him and allowed myself to be attacked instead.”
Her voice shook as her eyes strayed back over to Loki, and her breath rushed out of her as she watched him sleep, allowing Tony a glimpse of the grief she was trying to swallow.
“I told him the truth when he asked, for I could never lie to him, but he did not press further, and I did not offer more to my explanation.” She continued, and Tony watched as her fingers dug into the sword’s intricate handle, barely keeping her standing. “I did not want credit I did not deserve. I did not want him indebted to me, for he owed me nothing.”
Tears were shining in her eyes, and his fingers twitched, aching to comfort her as they spilled onto her cheeks, shriveling up on her skin even quicker than before, as if she were ashamed of them.
“I saved him because, if he had died, there would be someone to mourn him.” Tony felt his heart wrench inside his chest as one of her fingers tapped repeatedly against her thigh, copying a beat he couldn’t hear. “Someone made weak by their… care for him, that would lead us into danger with their emotions and cause unneeded problems during battle.”
Each word that left her lips seemed to somehow simultaneously lift her burden and press it heavier upon her shoulders, and her next words were fractured by a stifled sob as her body trembled slightly.
“I did not think I would become them.” She whispered, a secret that he knew was coming, but shocked him to hear nevertheless. “I did not want to. I do not understand the feelings that ravage me, that- that sicken me, that disrupt the very structure of my being. I do not want them to hurt me any longer, but there is no escape, because they are everywhere .”
Tony couldn’t help it.
He stepped closer, words building on the tip of his tongue, reassurances, placations, apologies, anything that would make her stop hurting, stop looking so unlike the woman he understood her to be, but then-
Raya raised her sword, her hand shaking as she held it up to separate them, her features tight, her eyes bright with tears as they slipped down her cheeks, and Tony saw her set her jaw as he stopped abruptly.
Fear prickled at his spine as he stared at her, knowing she could hear his panicked heartbeat, but the grimace on her face did not falter even as her lower lip trembled slightly.
“No.” Raya choked out, her tone riddled with finality as she wiped her eyes with her free hand. “No. Get rid of that look. That face. I do not need your pity. I am not weak !”
Her voice raised, but as she opened her mouth to speak again, Loki’s head turned towards her, his breathing stuttering slightly, and all traces of anger in Raya’s face died.
Guilt flooded her features, and Tony’s eyes flicked down to see Loki’s fingers curling in the sheets that covered his chest, as if he were trying to prevent himself from reaching out in his sleep.
Raya staggered back from the bed, her expression betraying her panic and relief at the signs of life, and only just caught herself on the wall, her sword dragging over the linoleum floor.
Loki’s eyelids fluttered, and Raya practically threw herself from the wall, leaning her bodyweight against her sword as she stumbled towards the door, and Tony was caught between fleeing and stopping her from leaving as she advanced upon him.
“What are you-” He started, but Raya immediately cut across him, her words breathless with panic as she tried to step past him.
“I should not be here when he wakes. I cannot be.”
Her scarred fingers, gloveless and trembling, caught her on the door frame, and Tony suddenly realised that her fear wasn’t only coming from guilt; she was in physical pain, suffering from some ailment he couldn’t see.
He knew it was wrong. That he shouldn’t even consider it, that it would most likely kill him, but the sick mix of self-doubt and pure terror on her face had seemingly thrown all his critical thinking skills out the window.
His hand had shot up from his side before he could truly think it through, and latched onto her forearm, his fingers digging into her bodysuit.
“Raya, don’t.” He said, his mouth moving quickly as his heart pounded hard in his chest, terribly panicked and awfully wrongfooted. “Don’t do something you’ll regret. You can’t run from this- from him .”
Raya had gone completely still, her chest barely moving as she stared down at the ground before her, her other hand gripping her sword as she leant against the wall, and Tony swore the air was growing hotter, sticking to his throat as he rushed through ramblings he couldn’t stop.
“You didn’t do anything wrong; you have to know that. You saved our lives again , without even thinking about it, you just did. ”
The arm he was holding flexed under his touch, and Raya’s fingers curled into a fist as she turned to look at him, and regret burned through his heart at the raw look of betrayal in her eyes.
“Let go of me.” She breathed, her bare hand clenching and unclenching as she let out a shaky breath, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Now.”
She didn’t reach up and push him away, didn’t do anything but look at him, but Tony felt as if she had punched him in the throat.
He hurriedly dropped his hand from her arm, and Raya rolled her shoulder, her eye twitching as her breathing stuttered slightly, and then she was blinking and looking away from him.
“I will never do what I shall regret.” She said shakily, her voice shattered by supressed anger, and he automatically took a step back as she straightened up.
Another glance.
More pain flickering through her dark eyes.
“I did not do this for you.” She continued, and her voice cracked as she tilted her head in Loki’s direction, her features hardening as she did so. “I did this, because in the moment I needed focus, hesitation took hold of me. This happened, because I failed in everything I have ever known.”
Raya pushed herself fully off the wall, still using her sword as some sort of makeshift crutch, and the hurt emblazoned on her face made Tony’s mind race, trying to find something to say, something, anything-
Loki’s head turned, his fingers fisting in the sheets beneath him as he muttered something under his breath, and Tony caught the moment Raya’s hand trembled, the essence of her magic glittering around her fingertips, her eyes softening as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.
Then, the god rolled over, falling silent, and her features turned stony once more, her gaze flicking up to meet his, a fresh wave of determination burning in her eyes.
“Treat him the way you treated me.” She said firmly, flames dancing in her irises, before she turned away, her body tense. “He did not deserve my anger. Do not allow him to believe that he did.”
Then, her eyes shining with crimson laced tears, Raya turned away, and left him standing beside Loki’s bed, feeling as if he’d been gutted.
His fingertips burned, chiding him for reaching out, for trying to comfort her, but Tony didn’t allow the stinging pain to get to him, simply gritting his teeth to will it away as he sat down in the chair set against the wall.
Tony dug his nails into his palms, looking up as he caught sight of Loki shifting in his sheets, restless and yet still unconscious, and guilt wrapped around him even more tightly than it had before.
He’d sent her away, scared her off with his words; god, he knew he shouldn’t have done it. What if she never trusted him again? What if he’d ruined her view of him altogether, and she lost her faith in him, in the Avengers?
What if, in trying to help her, he’d sealed their fates and doomed them all to her despondency?
Loki’s mouth opened, a soft sound, a gentle whisper leaving those hateful lips, and Tony felt his heart freeze in his chest as he watched the god’s hand strain, as if he were reaching for something.
“Raya.”
As the god shifted yet again, his breaths stuttering, choking on his own air as he rolled back onto his back, Tony gripped the edges of his chair, unease flooding his heart as he watched his arrogant features crinkle with what he could only assume was pain.
In his anguish, his subconscious was reaching for her, calling for her attention, sensing her departure simply because all warmth seemed to have been sucked clean from the air.
Perhaps, there had been more than one motivator behind Raya’s need to stay at his side besides her own remorse.
Oh, we are so fucked.
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
9:13 am, May 18th, 2012.
His mouth was dry.
The first sound he heard was the rain, harsh and unyielding, and his eyes remained heavy as the soothing noise seemed to rush over him, a familiar warmth flooding him as a harsh roll of thunder echoed through the air.
The second, was the scratching of pen against paper, incessant and irritating.
Loki’s eyes fluttered open, and the soft light of the lamp on the table beside him still caused tears to burn within them, but the horrible pain in his chest quickly overtook that mere annoyance.
His lungs protested as he sucked in a shivering breath, and as he scrambled to sit up, his heart pounding in his chest, a hand rested against his forehead, and he froze.
“Brother.” Thor’s voice said, his tone even, and Loki looked up, his hand moving to press against the bandages that encircled his chest. “Stop. You are safe here.”
His arms were too weak to push away the fingers on his forehead, but he tried anyway, his palm falling flat against his own cheek as he attempted to swipe at Thor’s hand.
His head was spinning as he tried to focus, and as Thor’s words finally pierced the fog of his brain, he chuckled humourlessly, his chest aching as the breath left it.
“Safe…” He grunted, his voice rough and hoarse, each syllable scraping at his throat. “ Safe …”
He was too tired, too much in pain to infuse the words with venom, but Thor’s hand hesitated, stopping the soothing motion he hadn’t noticed until now.
Loki ignored the way comfort fled him as Thor’s hand retreated, instead squeezing his eyes shut to try and force away the pain pressing in around his mind.
The moment he noticed the weightlessness of his own thoughts, his heart seemed to freeze inside his chest.
He was gone.
He was gone .
Loki’s hand clumsily knocked into his jaw as he tried to clutch at his face, and this time, Thor didn’t reach out, simply watching him fumble.
It was aggravating, the fact he could not even control his own extremities, but the overwhelming relief flooding him as he realised his every thought that passed through his head was completely his own beat out any annoyance before it formed.
He looked over at Thor, the movement far too fast for his sluggish mind, and found his brother surveying him with a bittersweet expression on his face, his smile wrong, his eyes hard and soft all at once.
“Do you remember anything?” Thor asked, and his voice was too gentle, too tentative. “Anything at all?”
Loki gritted his teeth, trying his hardest to make out firm memories in the mess of greying figures and blue flashes, shaking his head after a few moments of grating silence.
It was easier than speaking, than saying that the last thing he remembered seeing was Raya throwing herself out of the back of a truck.
He didn’t like the way Thor was looking at him, as if he could fall apart at any second, as if he were teetering on the edge of a breakdown.
There was too much grief in his eyes.
That thought seemed to slap him harshly across the face, its implications sending an aching chill through him, and as his head spun wildly, Loki looked around, searching, waiting-
“Raya isn’t here, brother.” Thor said, and Loki couldn’t stifle the breath of relief that rushed out of him. “She is… alive.”
The way he said it, remorse clinging to the words, set Loki on edge. Why was he looking at him like that? As if the weight of the world was pressing into him, crashing over him and stealing his words? Why was there silence, why was there a blistering cold left in the wake of firm words and distrusting eyes?
Had he done something so terrible that they had decided to speak down to him, like gods taunting a mortal child who knew nothing of what they prayed for? Had he been reduced to something so weak, so pathetic , that his brother, once an enemy, once a fellow warrior, could no longer look at him without pity in his eyes?
Perhaps Thor could see the anger in him, because he cleared his throat, resting Mjolnir onto the edge of the bed with a soft thump and leaning in closer, as if they were trading a secret, and Loki felt his stomach twist.
Why was there gentleness in the face of blind rage? Patience and quiet concern in the face of hatred and revulsion?
His first thought was that they knew. That Raya had told them, that whatever had happened when she jumped from the truck to escape them had made her forget her promise, to turn her back on him.
His second, and much more irritatingly concerning thought, was that Raya had taken her chance to run, just as he had chided her for not doing when they sat together on that damned boat, whispering about mortal mistakes and ignorant cruelties.
The memory of her smile made his stomach twist painfully.
“Raya noticed something was wrong with you after we reached the altar of her God; she told me the humans call him Mars.” Thor said, and Loki gripped the bedsheets with strangely trembling hands, his fingers sliding between the sheets in an attempt at regaining his strength. “You… changed, she said. Perhaps I did not notice because I once knew you to be kind, but she did. She said you conceded to her demands far more quickly than you ever would have, that you allowed her respite in her own thoughts.”
It hurt, to have it stated so plainly, but Loki supposed Thor had never been one to mince words, certainly not to avoid hurting his feelings.
He only nodded to encourage Thor to continue, and his brother ran his hand over his face as he let out a quiet sigh, his eyes turning towards the ground, as if the idea of saying his words to his face was unbearable.
He didn’t know how to understand this new, unsure Thor. Even in their weakest moments together as children, he had remained steadfast, confident.
Now, he looked like he was going to fall to pieces.
“She told me there was a presence she knew, hidden in your head. Using your body and mind as tools for its own means.” Thor continued, and Loki felt his blood run cold, the world swaying as he dug his still-shaking fingertips into his thigh. “She had to remove it. She said it was hurting you, that it was making you hide things and say words you didn’t mean.”
Instantly, that familiar sense of defensiveness reared its ugly head, the urge to fight, to reaffirm his own behaviours and cling to what was left of his dignity, but he bit his lip to keep the words down, and Thor just kept looking at him as if he knew what he was fighting away.
Everyone knew.
His worst fear, confirmed and collated into another reason for them to despise him, to make the image of him into a brainless lackey for some greater force of power.
Thor had paused for a moment, simply watching him, and Loki realised he was waiting for something to assure him to keep talking, and he nodded slowly, tugging at the sheets beneath him.
Out of a fold in the fabric tumbled a lock of hair, haphazardly cut and dark brown, and Loki’s eyes narrowed as the familiar scent of blood slipped into his lungs.
Raya.
“She fought you. She had to, the… god, she said, that was controlling you, it just wouldn’t stop taunting her.” Thor muttered, folding his fingers together, twisting them as he spoke, and Loki simply stared down at the piece of hair in his hand, confused by everything assaulting his senses. “Telling her she was weak, that her hesitation was pathetic, just riling her up on purpose , and then-”
Thor’s breath caught, and Loki glanced up at him, shock freezing him in place as he noticed the tears glistening in his eyes.
“She did something, some sort of magic to rid you of it. She was still fighting, but somehow, she was inside your mind, pulling you back to yourself.” Thor continued, and his voice wavered for a moment, his eyes darting back up to meet his. “Raya told me it worked, that she felt The Great One, as she calls him, disconnect from your mind, free you from his control. But in doing so, all her anger was driving her sword, and she couldn’t stop it in time.”
Thor gestured weakly towards his chest, and Loki shakily pressed his fist against the layer of bandages, his fingers still curled around the piece of hair as he winced slightly.
Sword?
Loki felt his brows furrow as he registered the words, but Thor was already talking over his silent question, rushing to answer as if he’d shouted it.
“Her god, he blessed her with her weapon. She used it to fight you, and it almost became your death.” Thor paused, a tear rolling down his cheek, and Loki watched him warily, uncomfortable with the vexing show of emotion. “She assured me it was not made to kill, which I don’t understand, but she said there was no way to heal the scar. That you would live, and your flesh would repair itself as much as it could, but that it would never fade entirely.”
Loki’s fingers traced over the bandages, over the place that was aching dully, the place where Raya had burned him what felt like months ago and swallowed hard to clear away the strange lump in his throat.
So, she had saved his life, again.
She seemed so intent on putting him in her debt, it was infuriating .
His head tilted back against the pillows as he let his eyes drift up to the ceiling, following a crack in the plaster above him, and his fingers continued their gentle stroking against his chest.
She had replaced a burn with a stab wound.
Perhaps he was not the only one with a flair for the dramatic.
“Where… is she?” Loki murmured quietly, his throat burning as his voice cracked.
He remembered hearing something, far off in his subconscious during that horrible, suffocating feeling of his mind being stolen, and then again when he was drifting in and out of consciousness, assumedly after being bought to lay here.
A soft whisper, something he knew, like a song that clung to all the darkness and forced it back with its passion, its determination.
“Diis reliqua relinque…”
Familiarity battled with confusion as he waited for Thor’s answer, and as his brother’s stony silence continued, he looked over at him with narrowed eyes.
As he did, Loki noticed the pile of cut off hair resting near Thor’s feet, varying lengths of brown littering the white tile, some half curled, others strangely prickled, as if they had been torn from someone’s head.
“Raya stayed with you for a long while, brother. Tony, he- he spoke to her, trying to see if she was alright, and she left.” Thor said, his hands now resting on his bedside, trembling fingers digging into the blankets that surrounded him. “I tried to speak with her, but she has gone silent again. She disappeared into a room with the painting Natasha brought back after you visited the fallen base and has not spoken since.”
It wasn’t guilt that prickled his skin.
It wasn’t remorse, regret, relief that trickled through his nerves and made his eyes burn.
He was above those pathetic feelings. He was above all the wondering, all the concern, all the pain.
His body did not wish to cooperate with his mind, and he found himself reaching out, something drawing his shaking fingers closer to Thor’s shoulder.
Tentatively, and annoyed by his own hesitation, Loki roughly patted his shoulder, his jaw set as he looked away from the tears lining Thor’s cheeks.
“Stop that.” He said gruffly, his voice catching slightly, blinking quickly to clear his mind. “There’s no point to it.”
Thor hurriedly wiped his eyes, and Loki kept his eyes away, dropping the hand from his shoulder and wiping it subtly against the bed.
“You cannot tell me when to mourn.” Thor said sharply, but his words were so heavy with his tears that they fell flat. “I thought you had died. Again.”
“Much to both of our displeasure, I am clearly fine.” He said, his voice wavering as he sniffled slightly, a strange sense of gratitude flitting through him. “I will never understand how I am viewed as the melodramatic one.”
Thor’s laugh was slightly choked, but relief still flooded him as he watched his brother shaking his head, still brushing away the tears that stained his cheeks.
They settled into silence for a few moments, the tension draining slowly from the air, and Loki looked back over at Thor, finding him staring off out the window, his head tipping as the thunder rumbled steadily overhead.
The words came softly, barely a whisper, hardly a sentence, but Loki felt the weight of them press harshly into his heart as Thor muttered,
“I am glad you’re alive.”
Loki cleared his throat, turning his head as he felt a tear run down his cheek, and he tried to regain his confidence, tried to force it into his tone, but he couldn’t.
“Sentiment…” He tutted, and he heard Thor chuckle again, the sound much heartier now, and as Loki leaned his head forwards to hide the smile on his face, he allowed a few more silent tears to slip from behind his closed eyelids.
A sharp thrill of pain twinged in his chest as his breath stuttered from between his lips, and he clenched his fist against the sheets, staring down at the wisp of hair between his fingers.
It felt strange, he now realised, to wake up without Raya by his side.
He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Did she get hurt?” Loki asked, forcing every ounce of nonchalance he could into his tone as he listened to the pounding of the rain outside, subtly wiping drying tears from his cheeks. “She seems to have a tendency to let her arrogance govern her oh-so-noble heart.”
Lie.
Loki glanced up just in time to see Thor’s small smile falter, then fade, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he looked away from him.
“Loki, enough.” Thor’s voice was gruff, and Loki blinked in surprise at the harshness in his tone. “Do not speak of her that way. She saved both our lives in that temple and protected everyone else from the malevolent being that assumed your form.”
Loki’s lips parted, sharp words springing to his tongue, the beginnings of a sneer twisting his face, but as Thor’s cold eyes locked on his, he only let out a huff of irritation.
“She is not as simple as you seem to believe.” Thor continued, and Loki rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, fighting away an uncertain need to defend himself from the accusation and ignoring the consequences of what it could mean. “You didn’t see her, the way she broke. The way she… screamed.”
Loki felt a rush of dread sweep through him at the haunted expression marring Thor’s face, but his mouth wouldn’t stop, his words sick, twisted by his own disbelief, his own self-loathing.
“Your attempts at embellishment are ridiculous.” He spat, shaking his head as a scoff clawed its way up his throat and spilled out into the tightening air. “I am not a fool, like you. You cannot make me pity her; her actions were her own.”
Wrong, wrong, it was all wrong, and while the anger that rose up into his brother’s features was familiar, it didn’t elicit the same sense of vindication, the same rush of superiority, as it usually did.
Now, he only felt hollow.
Thor held his gaze, and while rage was pressed into every line of his scowling face, something was buried beneath it, some layer of sorrow, of remorse, drawing down his brows and turning down his lips.
“She saved you without hesitation.” Thor said, his voice strong, riddled with a pain Loki couldn’t understand, didn’t want to figure out. “You had to be forced into it. In a matter of seconds, she was pleading for you to live, but when you had your chance to prove yourself, you would’ve left her to drown .”
It stung, how much certainty sharpened his vicious words.
Loki wanted to believe that he was right. He wanted to cling to the idea that Thor didn’t know him at all, that all his words were wild and blind assertations made with Odin’s prejudice whispering in the back of his mind.
For a second, as he held Thor’s burning eyes, he wanted to confess.
To say that the minute Raya had been dropped onto that deck before him, he had wanted to rush to her side and keep her breathing, that for once, his selfishness had been for someone else’s gain.
That, in the moment, he had realised that he couldn’t live with himself if someone so kind died to save him.
The second passed, and Loki didn’t speak.
He couldn’t.
“She begged for you to live.” Thor’s voice was shaking with rage, and Loki knew he was trying to bring forth an attack, to pull him into a fight and get him to say something real. “She was scared , Loki, and you are acting as if she has committed a sin by saving your life!”
Loki’s next breath rattled out of his lungs, his fingers shaking as he weakly straightened up, his teeth grinding against each other as he tried to swallow every bitter thought that leapt forwards to escape his lips.
He was choking on his self-hatred, the emptiness left behind by the presence in his mind overwhelming his every sense, filling him with a regret so palpable that he could taste it on his very tongue.
It tasted like the blood Raya had spat into his face during their first fight. Like the strange tension in their air as she’d carefully held the chain between his handcuffs on the day he’d let his guard down just for a moment.
It tasted like every word he’d chided himself about, and every smile she had given him in return for his rotten lies.
It hurt.
Raya hurt him, always, in ways he didn’t want to understand, because it was so much harder than hating her.
He hated the ache in his chest.
He hated that he wanted to prove her right.
To prove that he wasn’t the monster he’d been taught to hate, a beast who deserved nothing but the cruellest words, the harshest pains.
Loki hated how she believed in him, how from the first moment she’d seen into his mind, she’d known too much about him. Hated how she let him speak, hated how she heard his every word, how she considered him someone to receive advice from. Hated how she read him, how she saw through him, how she gravitated towards him.
He hated her.
Thor was still looking at him, but his features were softened by worry now, and Loki knew he was taking too long, knew he wasn’t taking the bait, but something inside him was burning and his vision was becoming more and more blurred as he gripped the side of the bed.
“You are right.”
The words escaped him before he knew it, but he couldn’t pull them back now, couldn’t force them away, not when conviction curled around them, as vulnerability throttled him, his eyes burning.
“I didn’t deserve to be saved.” He said, and when Thor’s face fell, he hurriedly shook his head to stop him from speaking. “No. I would’ve let her die. You’re right .”
His chest felt tight. Why was he so cold? Couldn’t he ever escape this stupid cycle in his mind? He was aware of it, knew its patterns, could feel the moment his resistance was snapped, and yet, it seemed as if he was trapped in its inevitability, caged by the emotions he resented and the thoughts that cut right through him.
“Raya has saved me far too many times. She should have let me die.” The words were like venom, spilling out of his lips and cascading down his body, sending chills over his skin as his voice wavered and his vision blurred. “She should have killed me, you should have killed me, I shouldn’t have- If I hadn’t- Nothing would’ve-”
The walls were rushing in around him, clinging to his body, turning into water, shifting into hands, pulling apart his body, drowning him in the remorse he’d tried to stifle with arrogance and irritation- he couldn’t breathe, it hurt, everything hurt-
“I shouldn’t- I can’t- No, no-”
Thor’s panicked voice was lost to him as tremors rocked his body, and pain exploded inside his head, cutting through him as the air around him warped into blood, as the wound in his chest seemed to creep upwards, opening his ribs, exposing his pounding heart-
The convulsions took away his sight as his eyes rolled back into his head, and then he couldn’t think anymore, something hot sliding down his chin as he choked on his own broken exhale.
Someone’s arms were pressing in around him as he shook, but his hands wouldn’t move to push them away, the world was swirling, colours bleeding into light, darkness tainting the corners of his sight-
Everything hurts.
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
10:07 am, May 18th, 2012.
Natasha wasn’t sure why the burden of all this bullshit fell on her shoulders, but she did know that she would rather be shot with the full five rounds of a Mosin-Nagant rifle than tell Raya what had happened to Loki.
It was serious. Tony and Banner had walked out of that hospital room with tense expressions, trying desperately to reason with a distraught Thor, and Natasha had known that their operation was in even graver danger than she had initially feared.
A seizure, Tony had said. Some chemical in his blood was causing his body to turn on itself, and he’d been sent into cardiac arrest moments before his brain had spasmed.
Banner had confirmed that Loki had some sort of lead poisoning, and the cause was obvious before he even said it, before his awfully assured eyes had met hers and sent a cold chill of dread through her body.
It had to be embedded in the tip of Raya’s sword, and whatever caused the gods to heal so quickly hadn’t known to reject the foreign chemical, instead allowing it to slip into Loki’s bloodstream.
For whatever reason, neither Tony nor Thor had begun to present symptoms, which allowed them to act under the assumption that exposure to this particular Cirican brand of lead could only be dangerous once inside the body.
It wasn’t much of a relief, but at least it was something.
Now, Natasha knew that she had to tell Raya that not only was Loki in critical condition again, but it was her fault. That it was her weapon that had now condemned him to an IV drip and a ventilator.
She was stalling, she knew that, and every second the goddess wasn’t informed was another reason she would have to kill everyone, but holy fuck , she did not want to do this.
A hand on her forearm startled her, and her fingers closed automatically into a fist as she pushed off her assailant, only to have familiar laughter greet her attack.
“At ease.” Clint joked, and Nat allowed the tension to lift from her shoulders, letting out a shaky breath as she tried to realign her wandering thoughts. “I called to you, but I assumed you were lost in there.”
He gestured towards his own head, and Natasha forced herself to smile as she nodded, rubbing her eyes frustratedly.
“Yeah. There’s just…” She hated the tremor that swept through her words, and she swallowed hard to clear away the lump in her throat, “a lot going on.”
Clint’s gaze sharpened, and she quickly turned her eyes back to the hallway ahead of her, her fingers automatically seeking out the comforting press of the coin at her waist.
Clint’s fingers gently touched her wrist, snaring her in his grip, and while her mind itched at her, whispering for her to lean into his comfort, she didn’t.
“I heard about what happened. To Loki.” He said, and Natasha clenched her jaw, a million words cropping up in the far reaches of her mind to defend her own hesitation. “Banner told me, before Tony pulled him off to do some experiment or other. He looked worried.”
She knew that. She knew that Bruce and Tony had closed themselves off as they tried to figure out how the hell they could heal a godly body. She knew that Steve had been trapped in a state of preparation, with nothing to do but feel hopelessness well up inside him. She knew that their team was falling apart, and she knew that it wasn’t their fault.
It didn’t help. Nothing did. Nothing eased away the ache of not being able to do anything but wait and see how things panned out. If they lost Loki, they lost both Thor and Raya to their grief, then they lost Tony to the guilt of failing to conserve life. Who was to say that they wouldn’t lose Banner too, once the only person who actually understood the nonsense he was spouting descended into liquor induced madness?
The weight of it all clung to her, breaking her down and drawing forth memories of the mission she wished she could erase from her memory forever. How it was her fault their once chance at escape had collapsed. If she’d been faster, secured the door better, if she’d forced James to run instead of fleeing in his place-
It was just happening again, the world falling in around her, and there were daggers hidden in the smiles of those around her, waiting to lash out, to strike her and pierce her heart. Waiting to leave her for dead, just like she’d left him .
“Natasha!”
The grip on her shoulder grew tighter, and she jolted back to the present to find her hands trembling.
As she ran a finger over her cheek, it came back wet.
Clint’s hand was on her face, the other on her waist, and she puffed out a harsh breath as she blinked away the tears in her eyes as she looked up at his worried expression.
“You scared me, Tasha.” His shaky voice made that clear, but the way his eyes were boring into hers made her stomach clench with worry.
She attempted to shake off the nickname, irritation scratching at her mind as she blinked rapidly.
Why was there terror turning down the corners of his mouth? He had a habit of letting his emotions reflect far too easily in his eyes, and now, his features were crinkling as he clutched at her, holding her up.
She didn’t remember falling.
“I’m fine.” She said, trying to push herself out of his arms, the embrace sending cold chills of dread over her skin. “Just- stop. Give me space.”
Clint eyed her for a moment, then dutifully took a step back, and she let out a shaky breath as she pressed her palm into the wall beside her. Finally. The constant touching was overwhelming. Was it really necessary?
She set her jaw and straightened up, glancing over at his stricken expression and scoffing as she gestured for him to follow her.
His features were always so painfully expressive. Didn’t it hurt, to put on an act all the time? Honestly, it was impossible to feel such stupid emotions constantly; he had to be forcing it.
Natasha bit down on her tongue, her fingers digging into the pocket with James’ coin as she rounded on the conference room, her hand wavering above the metallic door for a moment, realising that it was reddening before her eyes.
It was burning.
Fear threaded through the certainty in her heart as she stared at the unyielding surface, and she heard Clint swallow hard behind her.
Good to know they were both cowards, at least.
“Raya?” She called through the door, her lungs tightening around the goddess’ name, and she almost choked on the disgust that bubbled up her throat as she spoke. “It’s Natasha. Can we come inside?”
There was no answer, but the heat pulsing out from the metal faded slowly, and she took that as a reply itself.
She rested her hand on the door, barely registering the stinging pain that erupted along her skin as she pushed it open, and the sight that greeted her sent a confusing wave of revulsion and sympathy through her.
Raya was sitting off to the right side of the table, not at the head, her knees pressed into her chest as she stared at the torn painting sitting before her.
Her dark eyes were wide, her left hand curled around her shimmering sword, apparently not struggling to hold it up despite the awkward angle, and Natasha realised that blood was dripping steadily onto the floor beneath her chair.
She couldn’t see any wounds, no tears in her body suit, but there was a steely quality to her expression that made Natasha certain that she had inflicted some sort of ongoing pain onto herself as punishment.
Good.
The thought flitted through her mind unbidden, and she rubbed her eyes quickly, trying to disperse the ache in her temples as Clint carefully shut the door behind them.
Silence stretched on between them, dragging out painfully as Natasha tried to figure out how to begin; it didn’t make much sense to rehash everything, and judging by Raya’s unnerving stillness, she wasn’t up for much of a discussion anyway.
She was saved from opening the conversation by the goddess herself, who slowly turned her head towards them, her eyes glazed over.
“Why are you here?”
The words weren’t confronting, angry, scared or accusatory. They were simply cold, leaving her lips without so much as a flicker of real emotion, and Natasha was reminded awfully of the first conversation they’d ever had.
The same robotic tone, the same frozen features, as if she’d never considered there to be another way to speak. As if she’d never been taught how to feel anything at all.
After a few moments of consideration, Natasha decided that there was no use tiptoeing around the issues, not if this was the goddess’ current mindset. She’d always preferred blunt approaches anyway.
“Loki’s condition is worsening.” She said quickly, blinking hurriedly as Raya’s eyes settled on hers, and dropping her gaze to the ground. “We’ve discovered a chemical in his blood, and it has attacked his nervous system.”
She could feel Raya’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up until she heard the goddess release a hum of acknowledgement.
“Has his heart stopped yet?” She asked, and her voice was so devoid of care that Natasha heard Clint draw in a surprised breath behind her, barely stopping one of her own. “I cannot hear it from here.”
Raya’s fingers jolted slightly, her thumb rubbing against the edge of her sword, and as her bare skin split open, her eyes only narrowed, apparently still waiting.
“No.” Natasha continued, unsure how to recover herself at Raya’s merciless tone. “He’s alive, but… Raya, we need your help, or he’s going to die. The chemical, it’s giving him hallucinations, restless sleep- he can barely breathe on his own-”
“He does not need my help.” Raya said quietly, and finally, her voice wavered. “I have served him a sentence of insanity, while determining him guilty of a betrayal he had no say in.”
The goddess stared down at the blood slowly leaking from the small cut in her skin, droplets sinking into the wooden tabletop, and Natasha felt her stomach twist uncomfortably.
“I have helped enough.”
The inflection on her words, nasty and self-loathing, sent a thrill of anguish through her, and Natasha stepped forwards, careful not to get too close as she watched Raya’s grip on the sword handle tighten.
The way she spoke. It reflected Loki’s speech, the way he taunted and twisted syllables to make himself sound more righteous, except now, it was being sharpened by the goddess’ own disgust.
Not only was she learning, copying the speech of those closest to her, but she was remorseful .
It was everything they’d feared, and Natasha secretly revelled in it.
“He needs you.” Natasha said, and she caught the way Raya’s eyelid twitched at the words. “ We need you. You mentioned to Thor that you knew your sword wouldn’t kill him; that means there must be a way to heal him.”
She didn’t exactly know if that was true, but she had to play to her strengths here, and as ruthless as it felt, targeting the goddess’ shattered emotional state was the only plan she had.
“His body is reacting badly to treatment. We need a solution, and we need it soon.”
A lie. Loki was alive, at least for now, and even if his condition wasn’t quite as critical as she had made it out to be, they did need to fix this as soon as possible.
Losing Raya’s strength and magic just because Loki was injured was a waste of resources. They needed both of them to survive whatever was coming, and Natasha knew this foray into the existential was useless and unhelpful.
“I know you can help him. Tell us how.” She continued, sliding into the chair opposite her, and watching her from across the table. “Anything you can.”
Raya’s body suddenly went stiff, and her eyes shifted up to fix on her face, her jaw clenched as if she was fighting to hold her words back, and Natasha realised what she had done.
Any guilt she felt was quickly dashed away as Raya exhaled angrily, apparently readying herself to speak.
“There is… one way.” She muttered, her voice harsh, as if the words were teeth being pulled from her head. “But it is dangerous. I have never done it successfully, not before they…”
Raya’s free hand raised shakily into the air, and she mimed a small explosion with her fingers, a soft boom slipping from between her lips as she cast her gaze back down.
Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha could see Clint’s saddened eyes widening, his features dripping with fondness, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“You have to do it.” She said quickly, but as Raya shook her head, she forced her words to become harsher. “This isn’t a negotiation, Raya. You can’t run away from this; its your fault he is dying in the first place.”
The words left her in a rush, and she didn’t remember getting to her feet, but now her nails were digging into the table as she shrugged off Clint’s appalled expression and weak attempts to derail her, and Raya’s features had gone rigid with hurt.
“Own what you did.” Natasha held Raya’s gaze, and a flare of triumph shot through her as a tear slipped down the goddess’ cheek, fizzling out in a moment, but still there . “Say it and do what you can to fix your mistake.”
“Natasha-” Clint started, but she simply shook her head towards him just as Raya murmured,
“It is my fault he is dying. It was my mistake. I am killing him.”
Her deadpan voice grated through Natasha’s mind, but she only nodded, forcing herself to keep a firm expression, even as she felt her hand trembling against the table.
This was what it was, to control Raya. To really control her, to have a weapon so terrifyingly formidable at her beck and call.
It was strangely thrilling. All too powerful.
She blinked rapidly to disperse the thoughts as Raya continued to speak, her breaths coming faster as she remained frozen on the other side of the table.
“Draining the lead from his blood will give his body time to heal. The symptoms will abate, and he will be battle ready after a minimum of twenty-four hours.” Tears were sparkling in her glowing eyes, but only her chest moved, heaving in time with her awfully pained breaths, a sight almost too vulnerable to look at. “However, to drain him… I would- It would…”
Raya’s eyes sparkled with golden light, intertwining with the crimson in her irises, and her jaw clenched as she released several shaky breaths.
Natasha held up her hand to stop Clint from advancing, a grim smile on her lips as she watched the emotional display before her, irritated by the pause.
“You would what?” She said quickly, and the look of anguish that Raya shot her made her mouth fill with distaste. “Say it. I order you.”
A pause, in which Raya’s expression shifted, twisting and contorting through the stages of grief, anger and acceptance, but then she drew in a steady breath as more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“I would have to drink from him. Redirect the lead to a critical juncture of veins, and clear as much of the tainted blood from him as possible.”
Raya’s shoulders were still, but the fingers of the hand not wrapped around her sword were twitching, and Natasha couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty as her voice shook.
“I would have to… touch Loki. His skin.” Her words stuttered, and Natasha narrowed her eyes as she watched her choke on them. “I would have to break his skin to save him. I would have to touch him.”
Raya’s eyes left hers, but tears were free flowing now, and the goddess was sobbing, repressed shivers causing her muscles to jump and quiver as she tried to breathe.
Natasha watched her cry for a moment, running through the new information in her mind, her eyes narrowing.
Why was she reacting like this if there was no conceivable way to save Loki? She had seemed cold hearted enough when they’d first walked in, willing and preferring that they let him die.
What had changed so abruptly?
The realisation hit her like a bullet, a sharp and harsh impact that lodged certainty so deeply into her heart that it killed every other doubt in her mind, and Natasha looked up at the trembling goddess with a new sense of understanding.
“Can you touch his skin, Raya?”
She kept her voice even, her words softened by sympathy rather than ambiguity, and she didn’t dare look away from Raya, even as she felt Clint freeze with surprise beside her.
Defeat sagged the goddess’ shoulders, and as Raya’s head tilted up to face her, as if pulled on an invisible string, her nod of regretful assent made Natasha’s stomach twist.
The burn mark on her own wrist stung in protest, as if to combat the words, but the expression of gut wrenchingly painful shock and horror that marred Raya’s features only solidified the truth.
“Yes.” Raya breathed, though there was no need, though her eyes said everything her words never could. “I can.”
Natasha had no idea what it meant. No idea how it even came about; surely, Tony would’ve caught it, or Thor, or anyone , surely they would’ve seen their two walking warmongers brushing skin, but no.
That wasn’t important, it couldn’t be, not now. All she needed was solutions, and now she had one, and that had to be all that mattered.
Focus.
“Then it will be fine.”
A lie. She had no idea.
“You have to do whatever you can.”
An anguished expression, a warning hand from Clint, a flash of impatience in her own chest.
“That’s an order.”
Betrayal. Heartbreak. Resignation.
All emotions she didn’t have time to care about.
“We’re doing this now. Follow me.”
This was their only shot, and it needed to work.
No matter what it cost.
Chapter 22: All Over Your Mouth
Summary:
wow, this sure is a chapter (i'm so ruined from crying over it).
life has been rough at the moment, guys. im hoping to stay consistent, but i apologise if i'm not, theres a whole bunch of stuff going on rn. enjoy crying the way i did over this bc good lord.
for my girls, el and sunnie, k and a, as well as drea <3 love y'all to pieces.
chapter title from strangers by ethel cain.
Chapter Text
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
10:43 am, May 18th, 2012.
Raya’s footsteps towards Loki’s hospital room reminded Clint of a march to the gallows.
The goddess’ shoulders were tense, her entire body rigid as she followed behind Natasha, and Clint could see the hesitation in her eyes, her mind protesting against the order her muscles couldn’t.
He didn’t know how to help her.
Raya’s panic was stifled by a calm expression, but it radiated off her in waves, the air around them heating with every step, turning the hallway into a furnace.
Clint knew she was terrified. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out, to see that if she had control over her limbs, she would’ve run as far as she possibly could have from Loki’s hospital room and never come back.
It took everything in him to keep quiet, to let Natasha’s plan run its course; to not interfere with something he was barely able to understand.
It wasn’t his place to try and reach out, not when his mind was still swirling with doubts about Loki’s injuries, about the reality of the situation.
However, it was impossible to disregard the diagnosis of both Tony and Bruce, so he didn’t bring up the possibility of Loki being the very mole they were trying to find. It was stupid to think it was something that needed to be said; Loki’s betrayal all but reasserted the notion.
Not everything made sense, especially not when a strange sense of guilt settled in his chest as he finally saw the god’s lifeless body, the feeling only increasing as Raya stilled right in front of the door, her fingers twitching as they counted out something he couldn’t hear, but he didn’t have the time to dwell on it.
Everything was happening too fast, and he wasn’t in any position to try and help her. They had no other way to save Loki, not that he could truly feel upset about that idea, but Clint knew that losing Loki would take away their one tangible connection to the goddess.
The hospital door was already open, the electric lights flickering overhead as thunder rolled through the building, and Clint looked back at Raya, watching her fingers tremble on the door frame.
Under her shaky touch, the glass cracked, and as she flinched back from it, Clint felt guilt prickling at the back of throat, trying to push up the words he knew he couldn’t say.
“Go.” Natasha ordered, her voice cold, and Clint looked over at her, shaken by her fixed, irritated expression. “Now.”
Raya’s features blanked, her body tensing, and Clint forced himself to stare at the floor, swallowing around the lump in his throat.
She didn’t deserve this. Natasha had been too harsh before, he knew that, even if her words were technically the truth. He wasn’t heartless, he could see her remorse, feel it practically searing the oxygen out of the air and leaving him just as suffocated as she probably felt.
He felt disgusted with himself, with how he just let this happen right before his eyes, but he forced himself to remember that this was the only way. If there was something else to do, anything else, they wouldn’t have to force her, and if she had just listened to them before, this wouldn’t have happened at all-
He caught himself, his eyes flicking up as the sharp sting of realisation stabbed at him and was greeted with the sight of Raya’s panicked face.
The plea in her gaze made him want to run away from this, to rescind any blame he had ever laid upon her.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t even hold her gaze, just looked past her and subtly shook his head.
Raya didn’t cry. She didn’t object, didn’t fight once the door slid closed behind her, didn’t try to free herself from the order.
She simply turned her back on both of them, and Clint felt something between them shatter, broken irreparably.
He knew, in his gut, that he couldn’t have stopped this, couldn’t have ever really become anything other than another captor, another person who stood by and let her be controlled for the overall gain of someone else.
Maybe that was always supposed to be his place. Not good enough to truly be used for his own talents, not enough of a danger to frighten off potential threats.
Too much of a human to ever understand what she needed, and not enough of his own person to disobey his own orders.
Maybe, Raya had always been right, when she’d screamed that they were all cowards, too scared to even attempt to recognize how much they were hurting her, because it was so much easier to ignore it all in favour of their own issues.
Natasha’s hand rested on his shoulder, leather pressing against leather, and he glanced down at her, blinking away the blurriness in his vision.
“Come on. We can’t watch this.” She whispered, and Clint realised her voice was wavering ever so slightly. “She has to do this alone.”
“Are you sure?” He murmured, and as her teary eyes met his, he felt a jolt of certainty in his stomach.
“She doesn’t need us here for this.”
A beat, and Natasha swiped the back of her hand over her eyes as she turned her gaze back to the glass, her voice softening as she continued.
“Just him.”
Clint could see Raya hesitantly moving towards Loki’s body, her steps halting and jerky, as if she was being pushed forwards, and he nodded hurriedly, quickly turning away.
“Right. Yeah, that’s a… a them thing.” He muttered, more to himself than Natasha, but as her hand slipped into his and squeezed it gently, he knew she understood.
Something in the way Natasha hummed in agreement felt different, almost as if she knew something he didn’t, but he didn’t want to press it, not when she was back to being warm and reassuring yet again, instead of whatever had happened in that hallway earlier.
Guilt still picked at him, and as he glanced back over his shoulder once more to see Raya swaying slightly at Loki’s bedside, the feeling only worsened.
It was with awful certainty that he knew he wasn’t at all prepared for what would come from this situation, but Clint supposed that was just the new normal for him at this point.
There was just no escaping it.
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
11:12 am, May 18th, 2012.
The steady beat of Loki’s heart didn’t feel the way it usually did.
Thrumming through her bones, reminding her nerves to ease, allowing her mind to rest as each easy pump echoed beneath her skin, strange and calming all at once.
Now, as his eyes rolled behind closed lids, his chest rising and falling shakily, the mechanical beeping that joined his heartbeat felt like a taunt.
Raya readjusted her stance, irritated by how easily her weight swayed her wounded leg, and she sucked in a sharp breath as a twinge of physical pain intensified the burn behind her eyes.
He looked cold.
Loki’s blanket was wrapped around his stomach, trapping him in an inescapable cocoon of warmth, but as she picked at her one glove with unsteady fingers, feral claws of uncertainty scratching at her heart, Raya instinctively knew it to be true.
She let out a breath, her chest far too tight for her to draw it back in again as her gaze fell to his hand, and guilt wracked her body as she caught sight of the cuts that marred his pale skin.
Raya flinched away from the memories, her hands shaking as she tried to catch her stuttering breaths, clutching at the sides of her head as she stumbled into the edge of his bed.
She couldn’t run from this. Already, her fingers were twitching as they tried to follow the order given by Natasha, and she knew that it was to help Loki, that draining the lead from his blood would be the cure.
Raya looked down at Loki’s prone form, her vision blurring as she stared at the scar in the centre of his chest.
The wound had been deep. From the reddened edges of his flesh, tendrils of a black inky substance slithering through his veins, and Raya clenched her fist as she watched his body shudder.
The lead was spreading. Leaking out beneath his skin, slipping up his neck, perhaps even tainting his brain.
I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.
She hesitated as she leant against the bed, a chill of fear freezing her body as she gazed down at him, unable to sit beside him.
She couldn’t. He wouldn’t want it. It was disrespectful, hurtful.
Her knees buckled beneath her as she resumed her previous position on the floor, her legs aching and stinging familiarly, but it was too easy to ignore as her eyes lowered to the palm of his hand.
Loki’s arm was resting lifelessly at his side, greying skin stark against bright white sheets, and she hissed in pain as her fangs sliced through her gums, drawn forth by the beat of his fading heart.
Prey. Kill it. Eat.
Her eyes burned as her fingertips drifted over the sheets, her body baulking just as she moved to grab his wrist, and a wave of nausea slammed into her at the memory of how good he had tasted, fights flooded with the scent of his blood swirling through her protesting mind.
Hungry.
“No…” She murmured, her heaving breaths trapped in her throttled neck, the fingers of her bare hand burying themselves in her harshly cut hair. “ No …”
There was no one here to hear her, she knew that. She knew there would be no reprieve from her command, no escape with her pleas.
Her hesitation in the face of temptation was a weakness.
Failure.
Loki’s breathing faltered, and Raya jumped as his face tilted towards her, but his eyes did not open, and he did not speak.
His cheek nuzzled into the pillow underneath his head, a mask made of plastic covering his mouth, and Raya felt something strange twist her insides, tugging at every muscle beneath her skin, at every vein that intertwined within her and powered her racing heart.
It was sickening, like the harshness of sand flaying itself against her face.
It was sweet, like the heartbeat that echoed inside her head, like the taste of blood that lingered on the tip her tongue.
It was chilling, an awful coolness that calmed her nervousness. It was soft, like the way that green light had caressed her mind.
It was confusing, just like every other feeling.
Loki’s hand was still outstretched towards her, and now his long fingers were twitching, beckoning her mouth forwards, giving her permission.
Perhaps that was only what she wanted to see.
Raya swallowed hard as her gloved fingers ran over the edge of the blanket, edging carefully towards Loki’s palm, and the serene look that had crossed over his features eased the panic bubbling up in her chest.
He was not weak. He would not die. She could not let it happen.
Loki deserved more than that.
The thought of her own mercy swirled through her mind as her fingers slipped beneath his wrist; had she condemned him to a dishonourable death with her own unwillingness? If Loki had died during their battle, he would have ascended to Ahelria, his soul bound for the eternal life given to all great warriors. He would have bled out in her arms, but he would have been safe in the Light.
Instead, he was still here, stuck to her darkness, infected by her sickness, trapped in this cold, wet place that forced breath into his lungs, that needled at his words and didn’t see anything beyond his fake expressions.
He lied to everyone. A liar, that was all they saw, but that was not all that was there.
Raya’s fingers squeezed around Loki’s wrist, her heart hammering against her ribs as the scent of his skin burned its way through her mind; blood, sweat, dirt. Something cold. Grounding, gripping, even.
Loki.
Raya hissed as her fangs sliced further through her gums, and her stomach growled in reply, aching for another taste of the blood she hadn’t earned.
She kept her eyes open as heat flooded her veins, red light sparking to life around Loki’s fingers and then slowly sinking into his skin, each point of contact hooking her soul to his, burying her magic in his bones.
She could feel her energy pulsing inside him, spreading out through his body, and for the first time, Loki’s laboured breaths evened out and his muscles lost their ill-eased tension.
Raya watched as his body went completely lax, and a sharp sting of heat erupted along her spine as her magic began to pull forth the chemicals in his blood, furrowing her brows as her mind grew more restless.
Everything was burning, aching, pounding, but she simply fixed her gaze on Loki’s face, spasms of light smoothing over creases of distress as they sprung up in his features.
He didn’t know what was going to happen to him. He didn’t deserve to have this taken from him, to have his body used like this, to be hurt like this .
It was all she could do to make sure he was comfortable.
Her hand was shaking as the fabric of her glove brushed over the corner of his wrist, all the lead shooting through his skin, and as a soft gasp fell from between his pale lips, Raya felt the tears lash at the back of her eyes, guilt and grief sharpening her fangs as her lips hovered over his skin.
I am sorry.
She was careful, forcing herself to keep him still, ignoring the pain building in the far corners of her mind, and the tears only burned more feverishly as her fangs buried themselves into his skin.
The heat in her chest burst and exploded outwards, flooding her senses with warmth as his blood rushed into her mouth, knocking the breath clean from her lungs.
Loki’s body seized for a moment, but she forced a wave of energy through him, and he stilled immediately, his eyelids fluttering as she drew in her breath, pulling his blood in with it.
Her skin was searing as the lead coated her mouth, stinging and sticking to the to her throat, but the gentle burn faded after a few moments, leaving only the dull thud of Loki’s heartbeat and the sweet taste of him on her tongue.
Hungry.
He tasted like everything she could never be. Like someone alive. Like someone good.
Her fingertips itched as her claws burst through her skin, but she only fisted her other hand more firmly in the bedsheets as Loki’s form swayed before her, blurred out by the tears in her eyes.
So good.
Raya wanted to tear herself away, but each pull of his blood sent her head spinning, intoxicating and overwhelming, and she hated it, but nothing had ever tasted so… nice.
Her body was thrumming with every breath that she took in, greedily absorbing his warmth, delving into every impulse, every passing action-
Soft, cool, burning, heated, mixing together into a feeling that burned its way through her stomach, that sent his blood dripping from her teeth, colouring the white of her glove as she held him too tightly-
She swallowed heavily as she shifted her grip, the wetness of her own tears pressing against her nose as she nuzzled it into his skin, guilt cutting at her, taunting her for her enjoyment.
She was hurting him, always hurting him, the red light was pulsing, the black lines were gone… safe, he was safe, he would be safe…
A sudden jolt of cold shook her, chills wracking her body as trembling fingertips turned and pressed against her burning cheek, and Raya raised her eyes to Loki’s face.
Green.
He was staring at her, his eyes glazed over and yet focused on her face, and the horror of her actions shot through her as she struggled to pull her fangs from his skin, her sight of him shivering as tears continued to stream down her face.
Loki’s eyes moved sluggishly, resting on his own wrist, and she loosened her grip on it as she left the warmth of his flesh, but as his fingers pressed lightly into her cheek, she couldn’t do anything but freeze.
His thumb was under her eye, the pad tracing over her skin, trying to wipe away the tears she wished she could force away. His touch was gentle, too soft, strange.
Not burning.
A sob tore itself from her lungs, and his touch wavered for a moment as his dazed gaze rested on hers, but Raya couldn’t let go of his wrist.
She didn’t know what she was doing, why she was holding onto him like this, why she was so desperate for the touch, but Loki’s features only softened, and guilt threatened throttle her as his thumb continued its caress.
She hadn’t felt this before. No physical pain, only the aching rawness of the meaning disguised behind his icy touch.
This sense of certainty, it filled her with dread, filling every crevice of her body with its truth, and she didn’t want to acknowledge it, didn’t even know how to begin believing it.
It was terrifying.
Her voice wasn’t working, her cries the only sound she could make, but Loki’s terribly bewondered eyes didn’t leave her, didn’t shift to anger, to disgust, simply holding onto an emotion she did not know how to understand.
She didn’t deserve it. Didn’t deserve this, this awful calmness, this horrible kindness.
Didn’t deserve to have the taste of him lining her mouth, to relish in the scent of his blood, the chill of his touch.
She was selfish. This was selfish, self-indulgent, a weakness, he was a weakness, she’d known it and all she had done was get him hurt, she couldn’t be trusted with this, it didn’t make sense-
Loki’s lips twitched upwards behind the mask, not mocking, not taunting, not normal , and she feel his thoughts tugging at her mind, tired and tainted with pain, but still so concrete.
It’s okay.
Loki’s fingers pressed underneath her jaw, and her mouth opened automatically, her tongue shooting out to trace over the fang marks, a breathy, pained hiss escaping him as they began to heal over.
It was too much. She could not believe it, she wouldn’t .
Her warmth still clung to him, so as pain erupted along his arm, Raya felt its pressure, and she breathed out against his skin as she stifled a cry, forcing more energy through his body, pushing him back under.
Loki’s fingers went limp against her face, hanging lifelessly in her grip, and it took everything in her not to scream, to get this burning hurt out of her aching chest and into the air, to disperse it with her panicked breaths instead of sucking it back in.
Her tears sizzled as her magic began to unhook itself from Loki’s body, and Raya stifled a groan against the edge of the bed as pain sparked along her spine, dread pricking at her mind, at her nerves.
Her duty was fulfilled, but no sense of accomplishment joined her numbness, simply leaving her shattered and exhausted, left to bask in the reality of what she had done.
It didn’t matter how badly she wanted to see it. To see conviction lighting up his eyes, anyone’s , to know, irrefutably, that she was trustworthy. That she was meant for something more than listless acceptance.
It would never be there.
The trust in her own being would never be shared, and while it made her head ache and her throat burn with more tears, Raya knew she would only ever be proven right.
Raya released Loki’s hand, her chest heaving as broken cries clawed their way out of her throat, gold and crimson light dancing around her bleeding fingertips as she clutched at the bed, her tears sinking into the sheets, evidence of her weakness clinging to her skin.
Loki’s blood was still staining her mouth, her teeth, and each swallow elicited another sharp sob from her as she knelt at his side, staring down at his hand as dread cluttered her already spinning mind.
Her whisper was stifled, the syllables shattered as she forced herself to stay upright, and it had barely left her lips before it was swallowed by a harsh, choking howl of regret.
“I… am… sorry .”
The hurt, it felt like drowning.
Final and suffocating, full of terror and panic, intertwined with an assurance that her breaths above the surface had only been a brief reprieve.
The waves of pain would never subside, only growing higher in the face of the emotions tearing away at her insides, hollowing out her chest, filling it with the stinging taste of water, with the horrid scent of Tethys’ rage.
All the softness in his smile wasn’t for her to see. The cruelty in all their faces, that was what she deserved, what she understood, what made sense.
The walls were so close, so oppressive, and as Raya gripped at her head with shaking hands, ripping at her hair, the tears wouldn’t stop, fighting to escape her, to outrun her confused mind, her torn spirit.
But she knew, all too well, that was no escape from herself.
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
1:45 pm, May 18th, 2012.
The rain felt good.
As Thor raised his hands, his palms open towards the sky as he gazed out at the storm, lightning flickered in the clouds, and thunder rumbled loudly through his head, calming his frayed nerves.
His mind felt lighter out here, all the stinging, worrisome thoughts cleaned out by the blissful caress of the damp air, and he breathed in slowly as lightning curled up his arms, dissipating as he exhaled.
The storm would continue to protect them until they figured out how to save Loki, Thor was determined of it. No attack from those infernal beasts would worsen his brother’s already terrible condition, not while he still had the strength to keep it up.
It frightened him, the way tiredness was beginning to weave its way into his veins.
He wasn’t at all certain of how this was going to turn out. Loki’s illness felt horrifyingly final, and the notion that there was nothing he could plausibly do to help grated at him awfully.
His only consolation was the fact that Natasha had promised to try and get information from Raya on what could be happening to Loki, and for that, he was grateful.
Tony and Bruce had been trying their hardest to discover a cure, but an uncomfortable surety whispered that there was nothing their human medicines could do for an injury this severe, pushing into the forefront of his mind no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.
Thor shook his head to try and clear it of the idiotic ponderings, knowing they were doing more harm than good, but just as he moved to rub his forehead irritably, the sound of footsteps made him look up.
Steve was standing in the waiting room, and when he raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, the man moved towards him, his expression somewhat sympathetic.
“I was coming to see how you were.”
Thor scoffed, ignoring the sharp stab of anguish in his chest as he turned to face the glass once again, opening his hand to allow Mjolnir to fly back up into his hand.
“I suggest you hazard a guess, Captain.” He said, the words coming out sharply, and though he didn’t enjoy how they felt in his mouth, he let them spill out anyway. “I am sure it is plain enough.”
Steve didn’t respond to his prickly retort, simply moving up to stand beside him, and Thor glanced over at him just in time to catch the worried expression slipping off his face.
“Natasha told me they’ve figured out some sort of solution.” Steve said, his voice quiet yet firm. “She wouldn’t tell me what, though.”
The rain outside began to lessen, and Thor forced himself to focus back onto the storm, grunting through gritted teeth as energy rippled deep within him, flooding his veins with strength.
“You seem troubled by this.” He said bluntly, unable to extort any extra energy into controlling his tone. “What is your concern?”
Steve’s eyes flicked up to meet his, concern flitting through them, and Thor tilted his head in question, lifting an eyebrow in order to encourage him to continue.
It was unusual for the Captain to look so blatantly unsure of himself, and Thor found himself rather unsettled by it, flexing his fingers around his hammer’s handle to distract himself from the dread sweeping through his insides.
“She was being… strange about it. Weirdly secretive.” Steve said, his features hardening slightly as he paused, “And she had Raya with her. The poor girl looked awful, her eyes all bloodshot, hair all ripped out…”
Steve shook his head, then turned to face him fully, his jaw set.
“I don’t like how it feels to keep forcing her to do things, and I’m almost certain that Natasha has ordered her to do something…” The man sighed, the sound tainted with far more than simple tiredness, “I don’t know what. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”
Thor simply looked at him, his brows furrowing at the words, but just as he opened his mouth to reply, the sound of cracking concrete echoed through the waiting area, and Thor spun around just in time to see Raya collapse in the doorway, part of a wall crumbling down beside her.
The knot of dread in his stomach tightened as he raised Mjolnir, glancing over at the Captain to see him lift his shield, an expression of grim vindication on his face.
Raya’s hands were streaked with blood, one completely bare, and as she clawed at it restlessly, Thor realised it was also spread around her mouth messily, brief flashes of her teeth showing them coated in red.
Fear swept through him, but as he made to move forward, Raya let out a sharp shriek, her arms crossing over her stomach as she rolled forwards onto the floor.
“I did not- No, no, no-” She was muttering, and then her fingers were pushing themselves into her mouth, causing her to retch dryly. “Out, get out, get out !”
Her eyes were wide and wild as she clawed at the floor, forcing herself to her feet, and as she caught sight of Thor, her entire face seemed to crumble, her bloody lips turning down into a grimace.
“I did not-” She said again, almost pleadingly, and Thor felt his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight of her so distressed. “Broken, I broke him- hurt, hurt him-”
Thor moved forwards, taking slow, careful steps towards her, but as she eyed him carefully, her body swaying, Natasha and Clint suddenly appeared in the hallway, and she screamed again.
“Raya-” Natasha started, but Raya immediately backed away from her, raising her shaking hand as if to ward her off.
“No, no- Away, go away, away !” She cried, and as she swiped blindly into the air, the floor beneath her cracked. “Everywhere, inside, no-”
Raya stumbled backwards, crashing into an abandoned cart and sending objects clattering to the floor, and as a sob left her, her hands shot up to cover her ears, her body trembling.
Thor shot a confused look at the two new arrivals, and the looks of pure horror on their faces told him everything he needed to know.
“What did you do to her?” Steve said, his voice lowered dangerously, and Thor saw Clint flinch away from the words. “What happened?”
Thor ignored the rest of them, stifling his anger at the guilt that flashed across the pair’s faces, and turned towards Raya instead.
She was shaking, her chest heaving as she trembled, her hands clenching and unclenching against her head as her eyes remained wide open, her stare blank.
Thor didn’t care about safety measures, they could be damned; right now, his heart was hammering, he knew this had something to do with his brother, and he couldn’t just let Raya sit here in this agony.
He knelt beside her, closer than he normally would’ve been, but when she didn’t react, simply moving one of her hands down to her mouth and furiously wiping away the blood there, he tilted his head so his eyes would meet hers.
As she held his gaze, guilt flooded her features, and she hurriedly pointed at her lips, her breathing erratic as she murmured,
“Not me, n-not me…”
Thor narrowed his eyes, and as Raya swallowed hard, her fingers trembling, he knew before her whisper, knew with an awful certainty, but it only stung more when she brokenly breathed out,
“Loki… Loki…”
Her bare fingers pressed against her lips, swiping at the blood, and her breathing only got faster as she fought to clean it away.
“He did not know- I could not stop…” Her eyes, a simple brown instead of fierce red, were filled with tears as she tried to speak, and Thor nodded encouragingly to keep her talking, pushing away the anger welling up in his chest. “I took it from him, I took it…”
Raya’s words descended into intelligible mumblings as her hands continued to attempt to rub away the blood, and Thor stood up slowly, Mjolnir flying up into his hand.
Outside, lightning struck across the sky, illuminating up the entire room, and sending the electric lights flickering as he slowly turned back towards his three teammates, and then everything went dark around them as thunder shook the building.
Raya may have been a stuttering mess, but her meaning wasn’t hard to interpret, nor was her own remorse at what she had been forced to do.
But he needed to hear it from their mouths.
Lightning struck close by, lighting up their stricken faces, and Thor raised his hammer, trying to control the rage threatening to burst from him.
“What did you make her do?” He said, barely able to keep his voice even as he glared at them. “Tell me.”
The ground shook as rain pounded savagely at the windows, thunder reverberating through the building, sending his heart racing as he advanced upon them.
Natasha shrank away from him, and Clint raised his hands, waving them back and forth as if he were trying to clear away the heaviness in the air, but Thor did not waver in the face of their panic.
Once, he had forgiven Natasha for her failure, had vouched for her in the face of everyone, and now, she stood here with dread tearing at her features, not at all concerned for the woman crying on the floor mere feet away, but scared for herself .
“They made her drink Loki’s blood.” Steve said, disbelief and disgust curling around his words, and Thor’s fingers instinctively tightened into a fist. “To clear out the chemicals. She can… touch him.”
It felt surreal, the way the two agents shied away from the words, attempting to hide from them like the cowards they were.
Thor wished he didn’t have to believe it.
He waited, and Natasha’s voice cut through the rumbling thunder, a cold, cruel assurance that made him set his jaw.
“It’s true.”
Thor didn’t even want to look at her as revulsion overtook his words, slipping into his speech.
“I hope you’re proud of yourselves.” He couldn’t force any of his anger into the words, not when the cool grip of apathy was sliding over his heart.
Raya’s cries suddenly stopped, and Thor’s eyes darted over to her, watching as her hands went limp, her eyes fluttering as she swayed on the spot.
He wasn’t fast enough to catch her head before it slammed into the linoleum floor, but he supposed that was to be expected.
He couldn’t keep anything together anymore.
*
TIME: UNKNOWN.
DATE: UNKNOWN.
Raya did not know how it happened.
How she found herself in this cage, trapped yet again.
The wall behind her was blackened by soot, cracked by the weight of her heart, and hot blood leaked out between her fingers as she gasped for air.
The wound didn’t hurt the way it should have. It didn’t sting or throb or ache.
It didn’t hurt in the way she knew, but it still burned.
Her chest was aflame, and yet no fire sprung up from her skin.
Her flames were drowned in the water that surrounded her, clinging to her skin, sticking to her body.
It was so cold here.
“I know you grow weary.” A voice, gentle and soft, echoed through the cell, and Raya sucked in a harsh breath as she looked up slowly. “But you are trapped in a hold of your own making. I cannot free you from this.”
“Then why speak?” Raya spat, her head spinning as she felt the blood rushing out of her. “What good are you? What help do you offer?”
As her eyes locked on the man before her, the sight of the chains that bound him made her stomach churn.
They were familiar.
They were hers.
The man leaned down towards her, wincing slightly as the restraints clinked together, and Raya looked up into his eyes, confusion stealing away her breath.
“I am so sorry, filia mea.”
The wound on her thigh throbbed as his words settled in her mind, but she forced herself to her feet in spite of it, away from the hand he had begun to stretch towards her.
His chains glowed, and he let out a choked cry as his wrists were snapped back behind him.
“Do not say that. Do not lie.” Raya said quickly, her eyelids heavy, her tongue far too large for her mouth as the world swam before her. “I am not your daughter. You are not my father.”
The man did not move, but she could see the bright burn of his red irises even through the dark, and it unsettled her far more than she was used to.
Her heart was racing. It didn’t make sense.
Why was she scared?
Her forearm was stinging now, and she winced as her leg nearly buckled beneath her, her blood still spilling out over her skin as she stumbled backwards.
“Raya.” The man’s words were firm, yet the awful gentleness didn’t leave his tone, and she glared over at him as he gave her a sad smile. “I would never lie to you.”
Even though her breath was burning through her lungs, and her vision was reddening, she knew that he was telling the truth, but her mind still protested at the words.
“I do not even know who you are.” She shot back as she shakily steadied herself against the grimy cell wall. “Why would you pull me here?”
The man blinked, then his gaze shifted to the floor, his chains clinking together as he clasped his hands before him, and she heard his heartbeat pick up ever so slightly.
He was growing more nervous; she could taste his sweat in the air, could feel the unease in his stuttered breaths. Danger radiated from every inch of him, but it was dulled by the stench of water that clung to the walls surrounding them.
He was being held captive, but for what crimes?
“Your mother’s power weakens over me as she focuses on her new Master.” The man said, and Raya stepped back hurriedly as he bent forwards, but he only folded his legs beneath him to take a place on the floor. “I wanted to see you, and I could feel your anguish. I wanted you to know I was here.”
His eyes rested on her face, and the small smile on his face shifted into a frown, his brows furrowing in concern.
“I saw what they made you do, puellula. It was not fair for either of you.”
Claws, buried in her stomach, pulling apart her intestines.
“It does not make you her.”
Blood, coating teeth sharpened by primal need.
“You didn’t have a choice.”
Guilt.
Guilt.
Guilt.
The wound in her forearm was growing, creeping up to her shoulder, blood spilling out over the floor as the slash in her thigh cut through her waist.
Flames licked at the roof of her mouth, and her body heaved as bile forced itself from her gasping throat.
“Stop.” Raya pleaded, her voice burning through the poison sticking to her oesophagus, through blood so sweet that it made her soul ache. “Please. Please.”
The illness, it was inside her, buried so deeply in her bones that no amount of digging would dislodge it.
All her victims, outrunning death, but growing close to its dealer.
She was infecting everyone.
Calloused fingers curled around her cheek, and she braced herself for the pain, for the slap, for the burn, but it never came.
Raya lifted her eyes shakily, and the man was staring at her, his features tainted by sadness, twisted by outrage.
Angry. So angry.
“She hurt you so deeply.” He murmured, and as his thumb brushed over her cheek, warmth bled out into the pit of her stomach, melting the sharp edge of remorse lodged in her guts. “You didn’t deserve it. You didn’t ask to be her child.”
The familiar, disgusting heaviness behind her eyes returned, and Raya wanted to push him away, but it hurt to pull back, to leave the warmth he offered with his touch.
“I wanted to save you.” The man continued, and as she watched his red eyes shine, surprise flickered to life in her heart. “But I could not even save myself. I could not save anyone.”
As the shadows retreated from his face, Raya’s eyes traced over his features, taking in his dark skin, his bloodied lips, his bruised cheeks.
The haunted look in his eyes was amplified by the black circles around them, by the claw marks that stretched along the left side of his face and continued down his uncovered shoulder, disappearing under the ripped fabric that barely hid his beaten body.
The realisation was horrible. A cold whisper along her neck, a choking grasp around her throat, and an awful scream dragged from a protesting body, trying to push out somebody who never should’ve been there.
“You are her alveus.” She whispered, and the man’s hand fell from her face as he flinched away from the word. “That is why you look this way. That is why you are here.”
The man wasn’t looking at her now. His shoulders were shaking, but she could not hear the telltale sign of tears, the warning signs of upset that she was trained to search for.
Every one of his trembling breaths held only rage.
“I am not hers.” He whispered, the cracks in his voice cemented together by the anger radiating off him. “I am the first warrior. The son of Jupiter and Juno.”
Dreadfully bitter nausea burned through her chest, and Raya met the man’s eyes once again, broken and blurred pieces of her memory slotting back into place with a thrill of horror.
No.
“I am Mars. The Avenger. God of War.”
No.
He couldn’t be. This could not be their great god, their protector during battle, their Empress’ great love.
He could not be… this.
The embers in Mars’ eyes dulled as he opened his hand, facing the palm towards her as the chains that so resembled her own clinked around his wrists.
Seared into his skin was a rune, and the air seemed to turn to water around her as her own hand flew to the back of her neck.
No.
“She wanted me to feel everything you did.” Mars said, his voice torn apart by anguish, by regret, and Raya could feel his heartbeat next to her, echoing inside her skull and drilling into her skin. “Every torture she put you under, every bruise left upon your skin. You would bear the curse of my blood, and I would be reminded of her every moment her hands were on you.”
Mars’ fingers were trembling as his gaze lowered to the blood-strewn ground, and Raya kept her eyes on him as he sucked in a harsh breath, unable to ignore the horrific ache of dread beckoning for her attention from the back of her mind.
“My only consolation was that you would never feel what she did to me.”
Chills rocked her very bones, her heart thudding hard against her chest as her eyes drifted down to the bite marks on his ankles, on his neck, to the whitening scars that stretched out over the parts of his abdomen that she could see.
The alveus were damned to carry those wounds for eternity. To hold proof of their consummation, of the only gift they could offer the Empire.
But if he was no alveus…
“Your body kept you safe from that. Your curse, it protected you from any reciprocity, and for that, I am grateful of it.” Mars’ voice was shaking, but Raya could barely hear him through the horror breaking through her thoughts. “It was the only gift I could give you.”
The air was so heavy.
Raya rested her hands on her thighs, her knees aching from kneeling, trying to ignore the tremors in her fingers, trying to push away her confusion and her anger, her sadness and her pain.
It was all forbidden. All treasonous.
It all hurt.
“Raya.” Mars whispered, and her head automatically jerked upwards, sucking in stinging breaths as she met his softened gaze. “I know you are afraid. Believe me, my child, if I could take your pains from your very soul, I would. I know not to speak empty words. You must know that I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I love you.”
“I do not…” Raya muttered, uncertainty bubbling in her chest as she tried to breathe through her horror. “I do not understand. I do not understand what you mean. I do not know what that means.”
Mars’ hands clasped in front of her eyes, hiding away the mark they shared, and the sudden urgency in his features startled her.
“I know, but you will discover it. You are already learning. You are becoming so much more than I ever hoped you could.”
A scream, echoing from a faraway chamber, and now Mars’ hands were on her fabric-clad shoulders, gripping her hard, but the look in his eyes remained tender.
“I love you, my child. I believe in you. I am proud of you for every moment you continue to fight, and every second you remain strong.” He was whispering hurriedly, but now, golden light was dancing around him, his skin flaking away into dust. “I will watch you. I will hear your prayers. I will always be in your blood, puellula.”
Her wounds were aching, but her hands were now clean, the blood and dirt that had caked her skin all cleared away as Mars continued to disappear.
There were too many words in her mouth, too many questions, and as Raya felt the weight of his hands begin to lift from her shoulders, she tried to speak, but a high-pitched scream swallowed up her stuttered words.
Mars’ chains rattled harshly, and he cried out in pain as his dissolving body was ripped from her and slammed into the wall once again.
The tears in his eyes only made her heart heavier.
“Return to your humans.” Mars’ wavering voice sharpened into an order, and Raya felt her spine crack as she was forced to straighten up. “Follow the scent. Find the pieces of her and destroy them. Keep fighting.”
Golden light was tearing through his skin, and as he stifled a scream, Raya tried to get to her feet, but she only stumbled, dust crawling into her lungs as the cement began to crumble beneath her-
She couldn’t scream. The darkness was too vast, too unyielding.
She was falling again, cast out, rejected from the world she thought she knew.
Her father’s panicked screams clung to the edges of her mind, and her mother’s awful, ringing laughter joined it soon after, the connection not yet severed completely.
It was so cold here.
–
There was no safety in waking, and no safety in rest.
There was no safety anywhere.
Raya didn’t remember running. Didn’t remember how she got here, her head swirling with the letters on the walls and Mars’ final words, tendrils of hurt spearing themselves through her chest as pleas formed on her blood tainted lips.
Nothing had ever felt so terrible, and she couldn’t breathe through the tears drowning out her sanity.
“I cannot hurt you, Raya.”
Desperation wrapped around her throat, tearing her wavering words out as Thor’s form swam before her, but only hopelessness flooded her body at the sight of his concerned expression.
The words she knew didn’t mean anything anymore.
Thor was gone now, but her body was aching, not from him, not from her, from something else, something that was strangling her-
The wind hit her at full force as the hospital doors flew open, and a relieved exhale escaped her as the stinging rain lashed at her skin.
The ground was slippery beneath her feet as she ran, unable to stop, her lungs bleeding as watery screams were ripped from her protesting body, the warmth of someone else’s blood pounding through her veins.
Dirt, wet, everything wet, covering her body as she stumbled, collapsing with a splash into the torturous needling, but each drop of water that pricked at her was a relief, another focus, a new breath-
Failure.
Thunder rolling through the skies, shaking the ground beneath her knees with her trembling body as her screams bounced off the buildings around them.
My fault.
Mouth open, burning hydration, reaching up with bloodied hands towards an unyielding sky.
All my fault.
Nothing made sense, as her body fell forwards into the mud, all energy rushing from her muscles, water pressing in around her mouth as she turned to lay face up, letting the rain slash at her skin, prickle at her eyes.
She needed to drown. That was how to stop this punishment, it had to be, it hurt too much, it wasn’t going away-
Let me die.
The rain cut at her, splattering her face with poison, choking her, but never killing her, and nothing changed as the grey sky swayed before her eyes.
Raya screamed until her voice broke, shoving her claws into her skin, tearing through her thighs, her arms, her stomach, sending rivulets of useless blood to soak into the earth.
Her head, slammed into the rain-slicked ground, not hard enough, not enough, it didn’t hurt, everything was all at once too much and too little, it didn’t hurt enough-
No help came, and she didn’t need help, she needed to die, she needed the guilt to stop, the weakening emotions to bleed out of her and get swallowed up by the ground beneath her, that would help, it had to help-
The rain continued to fall, and her body slumped forwards into the mud, broken from all the anguish she didn’t know how to understand.
Chapter 23: Give Me A Reason To Believe.
Summary:
life has been kickboxing me and my health has been nerfed by a stupid cold, but here's your rayaloki hit for the month! I'm actually so excited for chapter 24 and i'm hoping it won't take as long to come out, but who knows anymore, sighhh.
LOVE Y'ALL STAY SAFE!!!
chapter title from love me harder by ariana grande
Chapter Text
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
5:06 pm, May 18th, 2012.
Loki woke up alone.
The rain was still pounding at the windows, and as he lifted his head slowly, blinking his heavy eyelids, the gentle rumble of thunder echoed through his head, familiar and comforting.
There was some strange sense of déjà vu in his surroundings, but now Thor wasn’t here, and it didn’t feel warm, not like it had when… when…
A faint flicker of pain blossomed in his wrist, but when he looked down, there were no markings there, nothing to indicate the source of the pain, and his brow furrowed.
Why did it feel like there was something… missing?
Loki steadied his hand on the edge of his bed, his other pressing against his forehead, letting out a relieved breath as he realised it no longer ached.
Nothing did, he noticed as he shrugged his shoulders, pushing his blanket away from his legs, briefly surprised by the sight of his own bare chest.
There was a scar there, stretching up towards the base of his throat, resting just above his stomach, and he traced his fingertips over it cautiously.
Completely healed.
It took a moment for the realisation to fully take root, disconnected thoughts bouncing around the corners of his mind before finally hooking onto each other.
He was alive.
He was free.
It didn’t hurt anymore.
There was no crushing weight clinging to the back of his mind, and as he pushed away the blanket, taking in a steadying breath before he took his first step off the bed, Loki hardly dared to believe it.
He was gone. He couldn’t hurt him anymore. He was saved.
Loki stumbled towards the vague direction of what he assumed was the bathroom, and though his shaking legs threatened to completely collapse beneath him, he didn’t care, it didn’t matter, not until-
His reflection was so strange.
His skin was pale, but almost glowing, his eyes a shining emerald green as he reached up a hand to touch his own cheeks, his breaths sharpening slightly at how healthy he looked.
Dark circles lingered under his eyes, but his lips were no longer cracked, and all the minor cuts and scrapes he had gained over the past few weeks were completely gone, not even a trace of them left to fade away.
He flexed his hands, and his fingers blurred before him as relieved tears gathered in his eyes, forcing them away as he swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to sour the moment.
He was free .
A yell, clearly an order, sharp and concise, met his ears, and Loki gripped the doorway as he leaned out of the bathroom, wiping his hand across his eyes to clear his vision.
There were boots on the ground, marching forwards, getting closer, and he lifted his head towards the door of the hospital room just in time to see them all.
S.H.I.E.L.D agents, their stony faces set with determination as they held up cocked guns, their eyes trained forwards as they moved past the glass. Their bodies were clad in all black, humanity’s armour, he supposed, but that hurriedly faded to the background of his curiosity when he shifted his gaze further down the line and saw her.
Raya’s gloveless arms were crossed over her chest, her fingers covered in blood, coated in mud, and chains secured them to her front, her back straight as her short cut, damp hair curled against her wet cheeks.
Over her mouth, tied up around the back of her head, was a muzzle, so tight that Loki knew from experience that it would be cutting into her skin.
Her expression was blank, empty of all emotion, her eyes dead as she stared listlessly ahead.
Loki stepped out from the bathroom, unfounded dread pricking at the back of his mind, but the moment he moved towards the door, three of the agents broke off from the pack and braced themselves against the door, their guns raised.
They weren’t pointed towards him, however.
Raya’s head snapped over to them, but her gaze quickly shifted upwards, dark eyes locking him in a frigid panic.
Nothing about her shifted, not the look on her face, not the tightness of her hands forced to grip her shoulders, and a cold chill of horror burned through him at the sight of the fresh wound over her right cheek.
It looked as if she’d tried to tear the skin off.
She didn’t stop moving, simply holding his gaze until the last possible moment, and when she disappeared from sight, the agents trailing along in formation behind her, Loki let out a sharp breath, steadying his trembling fingers against the door frame.
There was something terribly wrong. The air had tightened around him, compressing his body as if some physical force was pleading with him to run, to get away from the heat suddenly warming the entire room.
It was too hot.
This didn’t make sense. Why was Raya looking at him like that? What had he done? He could hardly remember anything about the past few… was it days? How long had he been here? Where was here ?
His heart was beating much too fast in his chest, and Loki swallowed hard to try and calm himself down, but as he clutched at the strange gown that covered his body, he found he didn’t want to sit, didn’t want to just wait around.
Something awful had happened, he knew it, knew it so certainly that it felt like the surety had punctured his lungs.
He needed to find out what it was.
The agents at his door didn’t even glance at him when he moved towards them, and after a few moments, they cleared away completely, following behind the larger group and leaving him alone again.
Loki stared out of the glass, reaching out with a slightly trembling hand to test the door handle, but it was locked tight.
He huffed in frustration, reaching out again, but as the flicker of power inside him pulsed, a sharp electric shock zapped through his wrist, and his eyes fell to his arm.
A destabiliser.
Loki wasn’t surprised; no, the first emotions that coursed through him were frustration, indignation and irritation, not shock that the Avengers had resorted to stripping him of his magic yet again.
As he gazed down at the unyielding metal, memories itched at his mind; a bloodied pair of arms, a horrific pain spreading out through his body, tearing him apart, metal plunging itself deeply into his chest…
Loki blinked hurriedly, clearing his head, and caught a glimpse of somebody out of the corner of his eye as they rushed quickly down the hallway.
Natasha, her face pulled into a tight grimace, and that girl, the one with the drawings, her name, her name…
The girl gripped her books to her chest, tailing behind the widow like a lost puppy, and the name hit him in an instant.
Sunnie.
He wanted to stay silent, but his curiosity was becoming too great to ignore, and he reached out to slam his fist into the glass, making the young girl jump back in a panic.
“Natasha!” He yelled, and the widow raised her eyes to meet his, disdain lining every feature of her agitated face. “What’s happening? Tell me!”
The woman tilted her head, a taunting smirk taking the place of her frown, and when she spoke, her voice felt sharper than usual, more frigid.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
Loki bared his teeth in irritation, slamming his fist against the glass yet again, and Natasha simply laughed, her hand dipping into her jacket pocket and pulling out a small, black remote.
“Raya is fine.” She said, but the words held no reassurance, no comfort, and the smirk on her face was chilling, almost as if someone had torn off another’s face and plastered it over her own. “We control her now. We don’t need you .”
Confusion washed over him, mixing with anger as her finger hovered over the button and he felt something in his neck begin to sting as she pressed down.
“Thank you for all your help.” She murmured, her voice muffled by the glass, and as he stared at her distorted face through the glass, Loki heard the familiar thrum of electricity reverberate through his head. “But you’re just a distraction now.”
The remote clicked, and electricity burst through his body, shocks sending his limbs shaking as it rushed through his nerves, and his knees buckled beneath him as he forced breath through his tightening lungs.
Pain wracked his spine, his neck searing with pain as the world swayed around him, and the shocks only worsened as he fell forwards onto the floor, his chest heaving.
Through the stinging pain, Loki could see Natasha retreating, her back to him, and panic swept through him; was she really going to leave him like this? Let him get fried to death by this gods awful contraption on his neck?
The electricity stopped abruptly, and Loki gasped, his heart thundering hard in his ears as he forced himself to sit up.
Sunnie was gazing down at him with wide, worried eyes, her fingers shaking around the remote as she lowered it slowly and Loki was too focused on getting his breathing to even out to begin to puzzle over her motives.
Silence stretched on between them, and Loki watched as Sunnie let out a trembling breath, her fingers tightening further around the remote, then, with a suddenness that seemed to surprise both of them, she crushed it in her hand.
“She didn’t have a reason to do that.” The girl whispered, and her voice sounded appalled as her eyes met his, the dark brown of them making him feel nauseated. “You didn’t… you didn’t do anything…”
Loki rubbed his jaw with a wince, keeping his eyes on her distraught face, and as if something had physically forced her forwards, Sunnie pressed closer to the glass, glancing panickily over her shoulder towards the place Natasha had disappeared.
“They’re getting Raya ready to leave.” The girl muttered hurriedly, shoving the pieces of the remote into her pocket as she clutched at her papers. “Half of them don’t want you there, and from what Miss Romanoff told me, Director Fury is siding with them.”
Disgust mingled with agitation as her concerned words floated through the glass, impaling themselves on his heart and bursting through his body, only confusing him even more.
“They said you’re not fit, but Raya has been…” Sunnie said, her voice catching as her eyes flicked between his, clearly trying to choose her words carefully. “She saved your life. She saved it, and they don’t care how much it hurt her, she’s shaking, and she hasn’t stopped hurting herself-”
Loki raised his fingers to silence her stuttering words, narrowing his eyes as he saw tears gather in the corners of her wide ones.
“Why does she care? How did she save me?” He said, and Sunnie’s face bled of all its colour as she opened her mouth, but no words came out as she shakily clutched her pages to her chest. “Tell me, mortal. I am not in a gaming mood.”
His wrist stung, a brief pain that could’ve gone unnoticed, if not for the memory that accompanied it; a flash of bloodied teeth, the hollow look in a pair of dark brown eyes…
“They made her drink it from you.” Sunnie said, her words firing off rapidly, and Loki felt the world sway around him as the pieces crashed together. “I heard that she tried to say no, but then they ordered her and… well, she can’t ignore direct orders.”
The rage was white hot, burning the same way Raya’s gaze did, carving a horrid path through his chest, twisting around his heart and trapping it in a death grip of horror.
“I heard her screaming.” Sunnie continued, her eyes meeting his as a tear slid down her cheek. “She hasn’t been the same since she brought you back; she’s been blaming the whole thing on herself, the entire accident, and now they’re saying she’s safe to take out into the field…”
Loki ran a frustrated hand through his hair, trying to pull all the new information together in his head, steadying himself against the door as he looked away from the girl.
That was the second time someone had mentioned Raya screaming to him. It was beginning to get annoying, just how worried everyone seemed to think she was about him- surely, it can’t have been that dramatic, could it? He didn’t think she was capable of such…
Emotion.
Her emotions were getting worse. More intense, more volatile, and now everyone thought it was his fault.
All she kept doing was prolonging his life, as if she was the only one who still wanted him here. Didn’t she get tired of this selfless hero act, trying to show herself as some superior being in the eyes of these worthless mortals?
Loki looked back at Sunnie, his mouth full of hateful words, his gaze sharpened by his indignation, but as she stared at him, fear twisting her saddened features slightly, he felt himself deflate.
This mortal had just helped him. She didn’t deserve the brunt of his anger; whether she was intelligent or foolish for sharing such information with him was a matter beyond his care, and as he ruminated over the topic, his wrist stung again, drawing his attention back to it.
Raya hadn’t killed him. She’d kept him alive, apparently at the cost of her own mental fortitude. Why? It didn’t make sense, not unless she thought he was helpful in some way, that she could use his powers to help her in her noble journey to save humanity.
Unless she thought she needed him.
The realisation hit him so fast that it jolted his entire system, sending his mind whirring and his heart racing as his brows furrowed together, his breath rushing out of him in a soft gasp.
Raya needed him.
She needed him, and he was stuck behind a door, yielding to the meagre might of the mortals, to appease who ? His brother? His father? He didn’t even know anymore, didn’t know why he had become so complacent under their guidance, when all he’d wanted to do was protect himself.
“How long?” Loki said hurriedly, and Sunnie seemed to understand completely, her eyes darting down the hallway quickly before she leaned back towards the glass.
“Two hours. They’re waiting for nighttime, to try and offset the Kleviah’s vision just like they did on the boat.” She answered matter-of-factly, her voice sure and firm. “We have troops here already, but they’re being briefed later. Your brother has warned us he’s growing exhausted from holding up such an unnatural storm for so long, so its tonight or never.”
Loki nodded, his hand reaching down to grip at his destabiliser, turning it over to examine the metal for a few moments before meeting her eyes again.
“Thank you.” He said through gritted teeth, attempting to soften the harshness of his words as he saw surprise light up her features. “You have done me a great service… Sunnie.”
Revulsion still pricked at him as he spoke her name, but the quiet gratitude in her expression made him regret speaking it a little less.
“Anytime.” The girl mumbled nervously, and yet somehow, Loki knew there was not a hint of insincerity in her words. “Whatever you do, you need to get out quick; I can cover for you, but I don’t have enough clearance to be a part of Raya’s security detail. I have to stay behind.”
The mortal’s willingness to sacrifice what seemed to be her entire livelihood for him after he’d attempted to overtake and rule her people was edging into insanity, but Loki couldn’t care enough to truly linger on it, simply nodding and gripping the device around his arm tighter.
As Sunnie hurried off down the hallway, her footsteps erratic and her head swivelling every which way, Loki turned away from the glass, his hand curling into a fist as he steeled himself.
He had to get out of this, not because he felt somehow responsible for the situation Raya had found herself in, but because he knew what it felt like to be abandoned by your only hope.
It was only now, as he steadied his wrist against the edge of the bed, that the word she whispered after he’d saved her life on that damned boat clicked in his mind.
“Infallible.”
She wasn’t just talking about his magic. She had been looking at him .
A warm sensation was spreading through his limbs, through his chest, strange and unfamiliar, and as he raised his fist, he struggled to put a name to it.
Was this what it felt like to be needed?
He didn’t ponder it any further as he began to rain down blows on the edge of his bed, the metal clanging loudly together as his wrist jerked and rubbed against the destabiliser, but he didn’t stop.
Each pinch of pain and prickle of unease only drove his arm forwards, the concoction of confusing feelings building in his chest amplified by an unusual and utterly perplexing need to help .
Loki felt as if the sound of the destabiliser breaking into two pieces was the sweetest song he had ever heard.
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
5:36 pm, May 18th, 2012.
1H 30 MIN until departure.
Bright.
Too many beats.
Too many hearts.
The chains knocked together, and heads turned towards her.
Accusatory. Questioning. Cold.
It made sense.
It was so cold .
“Hill has confirmed that all citizens have been evacuated from the immediate areas around the Colosseum. So far, we’ve been lucky that nobody has figured anything out; Senator Monti believed the fabricated sonographies, and that’s the story as it stands.”
Voices. It hurt when her fingers twitched, blood sliding down her wrist, dripping onto the too-shining floor.
Cool air from somewhere, fluttering at her back. Prickling spine as the cold chilled through her nerves, tingling, itching.
“Our special forces team is on hand to move in with you; Sargent Ortega assured me her people were more than equipped to handle whatever could be thrown at them.”
Heads nodding. Chains in the way of her fingers, no touching. Choking on the metal.
It tasted like blood. Suffocating. Heartbeats, pounding through her skull, not-blood on her tongue, cold, not warm-
“For obvious reasons, we will detain Loki until after the mission has been completed-”
No.
Raya choked on her words, her breath forced out against the muzzle as it cut into her mouth, and she shook her head as her eyes swung around wildly for the source of the voice.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The eye stared back at her, angry.
“Princess has a problem?”
Tear out his throat.
The muzzle unclipped from her mouth, and she jumped as a hand dropped from the side of her head, fists clenching before she saw the glint of softness in Thor’s wide eyes.
“Speak.” He assured quietly, and Raya swallowed past the lingering taste of blood as she heard guns click uncertainly around them.
“We cannot leave Loki.”
He had to be there to protect them all, why didn’t they know that by now? He was the only thing that kept them all alive.
“We don’t need him joining forces with your animals, and we don’t need his help.”
Too many hearts. Black armour all around, pressing in the corners of her eyes as she shook her head, her bloodstained fingers swimming before her as she raised them into the air.
“You do. I cannot save you.” The truth tasted like doused flames. “You will die without him.”
Laughter. Unsure, uncertain, nervous.
“I’m sure we’ll be fine without him.”
Naïve. Did he not understand what they were facing, still?
“He is still incapacitated.” Natasha’s voice came from before her, a harsh lash of panic whipping across her chest as her gaze shifted. “He can’t come with us, Raya.”
“Then you will die.”
Simple. Did humans understand simple? Or were they too complex, and she was the one who did not understand? Why did they fight what would save their lives?
No voices now, but the breathing was so rushed. All hearts racing, all eyes on her. No break, no reprieve.
Raya stared back at them, blinking at the concern in their gazes.
“All of you. You will all die.”
No heat in the words, only truth. Didn’t Loki say humans were expecting lies? It didn’t make sense.
Tony’s tapping on the tabletop made her tilt her head, trapped between the skip in Bruce’s breathing and pulled into Nick’s glare. Thor squeezed the handle of his weapon, threatening or nervous, she did not know, they looked so similar-
“Take her to containment, Rogers. She obviously can’t be here for this.”
Anger everywhere. Thor’s brow crinkling, swaying before her as the heat of the room heightened, and now there was yelling, arguing, so loud, too loud-
Chains hit her face as she gripped her cheeks, and Steve’s voice was reverberating through her head, chasing thin undercurrents of fear hidden beneath her confusion as the eyes slid off her finally.
“We will attack from the western front initially, then Ortega and her team will loop around-”
They weren’t listening.
The ground was hard as she stumbled into the small room, her shoulder slamming into the wall as she slumped onto it, and she glanced over her shoulder to see the Captain’s stricken expression through the glass.
He had seen her fall. No doubt it was vindicating.
There was that strange look in his eye, an uncomfortable and unintelligible light that made her stomach twist painfully.
She knew it, and yet it had no name.
The walls were so close, rushing in pressing close as she hit the floor, knees scraping yet again, hands flailing as her fingers scraped along her skin, nails biting into flesh.
Blood, rivulets of it intertwining down her wrists as the memories bombarded her, guilt threading in through the dullness once again, a sweetness she shouldn’t have ever known swallowing her alive.
They weren’t listening, and they were in danger.
Loki wasn’t coming.
They couldn’t come without him. She’d have to venture into the nest alone, and face the consequences of her treason, of her banishment.
Raya bit down on her lip and tasted her own blood on her tongue.
Dry. Tangy. Light.
Nothing, to give her a rush.
Nothing, to let her breathe.
Nothing, to stop her now.
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
6:26 pm, May 18th, 2012.
0H 40 MIN until departure.
It was difficult, breaking away from her unit for long enough to cook a meal, but Sunnie knew it didn’t matter how hard it was for her.
Raya needed to eat, and no one else was doing anything to help her.
The door to the behavioural assessment room wasn’t guarded, but Sunnie still took care to move as inconspicuously as humanly possible as she snuck down the hallway.
The haphazard stack of pages in her arms were practically burning a hole in her chest as she looked nervously around a corner, but she didn’t dare drop any, her heart racing.
After the meeting and briefing for the attack on the Colosseum, everyone was busy gearing up for a fight, so much so that they basically let all the ‘pencil pushers’ do whatever they pleased, and Sunnie knew she had to use that indifference to her best advantage.
If no one was looking for her, then she didn’t have to worry about being found doing something less than advisable.
Her hand was shaking as she gripped the hospital meal tightly; it wasn’t much, but thankfully the Italians served sausages to their patients, which meant the goddess could eat something somewhat similar to her dietary requirements if she wanted to.
Sunnie curled her hand into a fist as she stopped in front of the door, letting out a shaky breath as she tried to reorganise her thoughts. She knew she wasn’t much of a threat, but from the brief glimpse she’d caught of the goddess lately, she had deduced that it wouldn’t take much to set her off again.
This wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had.
Sunnie knocked anyway.
There was no answer, and as she looked around the parts of the room she could see, it looked utterly empty, but she didn’t let that deter her.
“Hi, uh, Raya? It’s Sunnie.” She said quickly, pushing the food in through the small slot in the door, and fumbling with her jacket pocket to pull out a fork. “You might not remember me, but I… I wanted to give you something to eat. I made it for you, it’s good, I think.”
Silence.
Sunnie supposed that was to be expected; the meeting had likely drained Raya of all of her words, and probably only increased her supposed dislike for humanity as a whole. What the probability was of Raya burning down the door and tearing out her throat for daring to speak to her, Sunnie didn’t know, but she desperately hoped it was low.
“I remember you.”
The goddess’ voice was soft, her words floating out of the room and meeting her ears just as she had begun to falter, and it was with a rush of sympathy that Sunnie realised she could practically feel the anguish in her tone.
“Oh, well that’s good!” She said quickly, leaning as far as she could against the glass, still unable to see her. “I just- needed to speak with you. I found some documents, and I know its not my place at all, but I thought it was only right that you know.”
Raya was silent, but Sunnie heard a slight rustling from inside the room, and her nervous heart leapt with hope.
She was listening. Maybe she’d hear her out.
The fork she had been holding clattered in through the little slot as she began rifling through the medical charts she’d hurriedly printed when Natasha wasn’t looking, trying to ignore the panicked feeling that accompanied her insubordination.
“It- Well, its about Loki.” All movement in the room ceased, and the air around her suddenly began to warm, emanating from behind the door. “I know what they said, that he isn’t allowed to come with the team to fight your creatures because he’s too hurt, but it isn’t true.”
Nothing, but she forced herself to keep talking, glancing down each side of the hallway before she continued.
“I went up with the medical team and overheard them say his vitals were perfect. Its like he’s been completely healed in just a matter of hours.” She swallowed hard, pressing her palm slightly against the door. “You did that, Raya. You helped so much, no matter what they’ve been telling you. I’m telling the truth.”
Silence yet again, just the simple thrumming of electric lights to join her in her anxiety riddled thoughts, but then-
“Is he truly okay?”
Sunnie let out a quiet sigh of relief at the words, even if they were sharpened by the sound of Raya’s worry, and she made a noise of assent as she tried to piece together her reply.
“Yes. He’s made a full recovery, just like you wanted.” Sunnie caught herself before she got lost in excitement, refocusing on the topic at hand. “But… that’s not what I wanted to tell you.”
Sunnie cleared her throat as she smoothed out the pages in her arms, her eyes running over the information once more, reaffirming it for herself.
“Natasha lied to us, and I’m assuming you as well. She told Nick Fury directly that Loki’s condition was so catastrophic that the only way to save this mission was to do your plan.” Sunnie paused, her brows furrowing as her eyes settled on the charts. “But he wasn’t dying. His body was going into shock, but the exposure to you settled his heart rate enough for him to begin recovery.”
She felt Raya’s eyes on her before she looked up, but the brilliant scarlet sparkling in her dark irises was still as intimidating as it was awe inspiring.
“Explain.” The goddess said sharply, and while her shattered tone lingered in the words, the command sent a flush of panic through her nerves.
“Your closeness, it was calming him- his condition wasn’t critical, Loki was just getting worse before he got better.” Sunnie sputtered quickly, and as Raya’s eyes narrowed in incredulity, she took a shaky step back from the door. “I think… I think she wanted you to drink from Loki, to end up like…”
She gestured half heartedly at the goddess’ face, unable to meet her far too intense eyes – dear god, it felt like she was being x rayed – and finished lamely,
“Like this.”
The shift in the air was palpable. The same way she’d always been able to tell when a storm was coming; the pressure of the space around her changed, the air got heavier, sharpening as rain cut through the bleary humidity and cleared away the heat.
Only now, the heat was turning inwards, and the air around her was searing .
“Purposeful deceit…” Raya’s sharp voice cut through the warmth crowding her brain, and Sunnie found herself nodding before she’d even processed the words. “Why?”
It seemed as if the goddess was talking to herself, rather than her, and Sunnie clamped her fingers around the papers in her hands as she felt sweat sliding slowly down her back.
Dear god, it was like she was being boiled alive.
Then, the goddess’ eyes snapped up, and it was no longer rage that burned fiercely in her gaze.
It was pure, unadulterated fear .
“No one is safe.” She murmured, her shredded fingertips pressing over her cheek, and Sunnie fought away the nausea bubbling up in her chest as blood smeared over her skin. “No one ever was.”
Sunnie had no idea what she was talking about, but as dread crept up her spine and prickled the back of her neck, it felt as if some cosmic force was trying to tell her to just believe.
And she did.
“They were right about needing you.” Sunnie said quickly, determined to get the words out, to stall the worry in Raya’s features and affirm what she knew. “Fury was telling the truth about the nests, but he’s overconfident in our troops. He doesn’t want to admit that they need Loki’s help, not after what he did.”
“And I’d assumed a mortal’s memory was fragile enough to forget such small infractions.”
The voice was haughty, harsh, perfectly timed, and Sunnie caught the moment Raya’s eyes flicked towards the sound, her shoulders drawing up as if her hackles were raising.
The light in her eyes still wasn’t angry, though.
Loki’s face was flooded with disdain as he regarded Sunnie, his gaze sharp and calculating, before a smirk broke across the wicked features, and he made his way towards her.
His robes and armour were all meticulously replaced, and she was slightly stunned with how put together he was, though she supposed it shouldn’t have been that shocking.
Gods were supposed to be miracles, right?
The minute she stepped to the side to allow him to see Raya, however, Sunnie noticed the slight shift in his calm composure. Though the smile that set her teeth on edge stayed, and the proud way he held his head up did not falter, she saw his fingers curl almost nervously over the front of his chest.
It looked almost as if he was protecting something.
Raya’s face was still set in that same blank expression, her jaw clenched as Loki stepped towards the glass, but as Sunnie’s eyes flicked between them, she felt the tightness of the air disperse, and while the heat didn’t disappear by any means, it grew… softer, like a crackling fireside rather than an inferno.
Oh.
Oh, that made so much more sense.
The two gods stared at each other silently, and Sunnie swallowed awkwardly, tugging at her shirt collar as she tried to look away, feeling strangely as if she was interrupting something much, much more intimate than simple eye contact.
Maybe it had been her own mind forcing her to romanticise every damn thing, but she did vaguely remember thinking that their colour palettes worked well together.
It looked as if they did too.
“Raya.” Loki offered, and his voice was still cold, still sharp as his fingers dropped down to his side.
“Loki.” Raya replied, the word steady as it left her lips, her eyes still narrowed.
Sunnie wasn’t quite sure that her mind was making up the slight flickers of relief she could see in their faces.
Oh, dear.
Yeah, this was definitely more than she was qualified to deal with.
“You look awful.” Loki’s voice came again, unyieldingly sardonic, and Sunnie felt her eyes widen in a panic as she glanced back over at Raya.
The goddess’s expression did not shift. Sunnie watched her eyes roam over Loki’s face, and in a moment of tense, unsure silence, she was almost sure she’d be burned alive by her simmering rage.
Instead of that, however, Sunnie watched Raya’s shoulders relax infinitesimally, and caught the quick, almost indiscernible blink of her eyes.
“You do not.”
There seemed to be some silent understanding between them, and as green light flickered out from Loki’s fingertips, intertwining with the locks along the door, Sunnie jumped back away from it in a panic.
Neither of the gods looked at her, and she wondered briefly what would happen if she was spontaneously combusted. Would they even notice?
Bolts slowly fell from the door, clattering onto the ground loudly, but as she glanced each way hurriedly to assure no one was approaching, the door suddenly swung inwards, revealing Raya completely.
The handcuffs around her wrists clinked as she straightened up, and the sound of her destabilisers was much more pronounced now, irritating little beeps that seemed to drain even more out of her frame each time they sounded around the room.
Loki’s eyes narrowed.
Sunnie saw it.
“Come here.” Loki said, his words tainted with irritation, but Sunnie saw the way his jaw clenched as Raya was tugged forwards immediately, her body moving to match the command. “Hands up.”
Her hands shot up as she stopped just before him, and Sunnie wanted to melt back into the walls as Loki’s fingers stretched out to hold the chain between her wrists.
Oh, dear god, she did not feel at all comfortable right now. Did they even hear themselves? This was crazy, and neither of them seemed to be reacting at all.
She tried to look away, to leave them to whatever this was, but her eyes traitorously darted back to them as Loki’s magic curled up over the metal and unlocked the cuffs, sending them crashing to the floor.
Bigger problems right now, than rather being uneasy over the amount of really weird tension in this hallway. She now had two gods free from their restraints, completely alone, with no other backup or anyone to know where she was.
This is why she wasn’t paid to make the plans.
Raya’s fingers curled into fists as the destabilisers beeped again, and then she slammed her arm into the wall, cracking the left with the first hit and then the right with another controlled blow.
Her lips were pulled up into a sneer as she angrily crushed the metal beneath a swift stomp of her foot, red light flickering all over her body as she let out a relieved sigh.
Sunnie felt weirded out by the pride glinting in Loki’s eyes, but didn’t dare move, almost terrified that if she broke up this reunion she’d be ripped apart.
Raya slowly lowered her hands back to her sides, and Sunnie glanced over at Loki, who was staring back at the goddess with bright eyes, every feature in his face sharp and almost annoyed.
Something about it looked fake. Maybe it was.
“Sunnie.” Raya’s voice came clearly, and she raised her head to meet the tall woman’s gaze, fear sending her skin crawling as the fiery eyes locked on her own. “You have been useful. Do not get killed.”
Yeah, that sounded like a thank you.
“It’s no problem- I’d just rather you both got treated like…” She trailed off nervously as Loki’s head turned, now trapped between the intensity of their curious gazes. “You know. People.”
Loki huffed, the sound almost like an incredulous laugh, but as Raya’s narrowed eyes flicked over to him, he gritted his teeth angrily and muttered,
“I suppose you have been… beneficial.”
It couldn’t have been clearer that neither of them did this very often, so Sunnie took the sincerity that hid behind their blunt words to heart and simply offered them both a shaky smile.
“Well, they load out in…” she checked the watch on her wrist and exhaled slowly, “twenty-five minutes, so you guys need to… sort out what you’re going to do.”
Okay, maybe this idea was worse than she’d initially thought. Christ, she was so fired if anyone found out.
Raya’s eyes hadn’t left Loki, not even as she hummed and unclenched her trembling fist, smoothing her thumb over the scarred skin, and Sunnie suddenly remembered the task she’d given a smaller team earlier that day.
“Oh- I have people looking for your glove.” She said, and when Raya’s head tilted to the side in question, she gestured wildly in the air to just have something to do with her hands. “The one you lost at the temple, I heard you’d had… too much going on to retrieve it yourself.”
She steadfastly avoided looking at Loki, swallowing tensely as she rubbed the back of her neck, and was surprised to see pure shock written across Raya’s features as she glanced back up.
“That is…” The goddess started, her eyes wide with what seemed to be something close to surprise. “Nice.”
Sunnie saw Loki’s eyes narrow, his jaw set slightly tighter. His hand flexed, and the fingers of the opposite quickly drew a line over the wrist of the other, as if he was dismissing a feeling.
Hm.
“It’s okay. They are yours, after all; you are kinda entitled to them.” She joked, but when Raya simply blinked back at her, confusion smoothing over the corner of her mouth, she simply cleared her throat and shook her head. “Anyway, they should hopefully be back in a few hours or so.”
A glimmer of red swept through the goddess’s irises, and Sunnie swallowed hard as Raya stepped closer, her hand half raised as she tilted her head to the side.
Scrutinising, studying, evaluating.
Terrifying .
The goddess didn’t touch her, didn’t get close enough, but the heat of the room swelled as her fingers twisted in the air, and Sunnie fought as hard as she could to stay still, her fists clenching as she forced herself to hold eye contact.
What was it with predators? Did you hold their gaze, or did you look away to keep yourself safe? Fuck, it didn’t matter now, she was already screwed-
“Perhaps you are more deserving than all of them.” Raya’s voice was soft, an attempt at gentle, and Sunnie blinked in shock as red light carefully prodded her forehead. “You think so honestly.”
Raya’s face scrunched up slightly, and she glanced back over at Loki, who simply raised an eyebrow in question.
“Gratitude.” Raya said, her fingers waving slightly through the air as if she was searching for something. “Human gratitude.”
Sunnie knew this time that she wasn’t seeing things, that she wasn’t mistaken, when Loki’s narrowed gaze softened.
“Thank you.” Loki murmured, nodding for confirmation when Raya continued to stare at him. “They say ‘ thank you .’”
Was a celestial being really about to give her thanks? Where on the goddamn job description had that stated that this was a possibility?
Raya hurriedly turned back to face her, and the red light dispersed as she muttered, her voice halting over the syllables, clearly foreign on her tongue,
“Thank… you. Thank you, Sunnie.”
Stunned didn’t really even begin to cover the wild spectrum of emotions currently washing through her, but Sunnie simply set her shoulders and struggled to find enough breath to say a shaky ‘you’re welcome’ back.
The disdain on Loki’s face was just expected at this point, and Sunnie didn’t waste any time fixating on his features, not when she caught the barest flash of determination dancing in Raya’s eyes.
Something felt wrong about that. As Raya pulled away from her, there was a distinct, prickling feeling crawling up her spine, dread for something she didn’t understand running her blood cold.
Loki easily fell into step at Raya’s side, and with a curt nod of his head, they disappeared around the corner of the hallway, leaving Sunnie alone to deal with the whirlwind of feelings still spinning wildly through her body.
This just felt wrong. She didn’t know why, and it was infuriating, but…
Something about Raya’s words felt final. Felt as if she was sealing up a loose end.
Why would the goddess be saying goodbye?
*
Rome, Italy.
Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
6:45 pm, May 18th, 2012.
0H 21 MIN until departure.
The itching wouldn’t stop.
Her nails weren’t enough to get it out of her skin, and the pain behind her eyes was only getting worse the faster her heart raced.
There was something wrong.
The ground swayed beneath her feet, bathroom tiles lying shattered beneath her as she gripped onto the sink, nausea sweeping over her in waves as she tried to stand.
Vomit, hot and vicious, rushed out of her mouth as the pain in her head spiked, and Natasha doubled over as heat rushed through her system, flushing out each deep breath she tried to suck in.
Blood. There was blood on her hands, dripping from her scalp.
The itching wouldn’t stop.
Hair in her fingernails, crimson red coating her skin, and her head was pounding as her fingers dug into her scalp once again.
Red. So much red. Everything was spinning.
The stench of vomit was overpowering, the lights sharpening and dulling all around her as she found her footing briefly, her shaking arms barely steadying herself on the sink yet again.
Light bouncing off the mirror, burying itself in her irises as blood trickled down her face, blue, blue, blue eyes…
The strands of hair were yellow.
Her reflection was flickering as the lights around her flashed and Natasha stared at the face that wasn’t hers with wide eyes.
“You will do perfectly.”
Hands shot out from the mirror, gripping her cheeks, and Natasha gasped at the burning touch, trying to yank herself away, but then-
Glass shattering against her forehead as her face was slammed into the mirror.
Blood spilling from her mouth as fingers forced their way down her throat, wrapping around her heart, gripping it, tearing it apart-
Bang.
Pain shooting down her spine, up the back of her neck and into her head as claws buried themselves into her spine-
Bang.
Her own flesh in her hands, red and squelching, sticky as it was pushed into her mouth, and as she gagged, the mirror laughed.
Bang.
Screaming as glass was shoved into her eye, half blinded as searing pain erupted through her nerves, and then it had been torn out, staring up at her from the bottom of the sink-
Her head ricocheted off the mirror as she watched her skin peel back, muscle and bone appearing as she screamed, her limbs shaking as her own blood frothed between her lips, cascading down her cheeks as the back of her head slammed into the floor.
The room was hazy, stained red as her hands scrabbled at the glass in her eye, but before she could pull it out, invisible hands wrapped around wrists, pinning them above her.
Claws were buried in her sides, and as she yelled, tears mixing with blood as she tried to squirm away from the pain, the skin of her neck was scraping off, pressing over her lips-
“You will be useful to me.”
-
Natasha sat up in the shower as her eyes flicked open, her hand immediately flying over her shoulder to grip the back of her skull, searching for wounds as water splattered over her face.
Nothing.
She sucked in a deep breath, pushing her hair out of her face as she attempted to stand on shaky legs, the water catching at her calves as she steadied herself on the shower’s glass.
Steam was clouding her vision, and as she looked down at her trembling hands, she realised her skin was red raw.
How long had she been out? How had it happened? She didn’t even remember falling, didn’t remember getting in the shower… the water was stinging…
The shower door opened as her hand slid over the glass, and she tumbled forwards, barely catching herself on the sink as the cold air washed over her instantly, sending a flush of oversensitivity through her body.
Natasha swallowed hard as she avoided looking up into the mirror, her heart still racing from that awful nightmare, still trying to catch her breath as the shower continued to run behind her.
Her body felt sluggish. This wasn’t like every other nightmare; she didn’t know how she knew, but she didn’t need an explanation. Just focus.
My name is Natalia Romanova.
There. She knew that. Reorientation worked, it always worked.
I work for S.H.I.E.L.D. My director is…
The name was escaping her. He had a name, didn’t he? A nickname…
My partner is Clint Barton.
Where was Clint? Come to think of it, where was she ? This wasn’t a Tower bathroom… Wait. They’d left the Tower.
Why hadn’t she remembered that?
Natasha gripped the sink hard, feeling the porcelain crack slightly under her touch. That was real, she could feel it.
My name is Natalia Romanova. My partner is Clint Barton. I left James behind.
What?
I left James behind.
That wasn’t part of the mantra. That wasn’t part of it at all, why wouldn’t it stop-
“You left James behind.”
A chill stretched down her spine, creeping through her tensing muscles, and then, the voice grew louder, the hint of condescension clear in the words.
“Do you really think you could save any of them? You could not even save yourself, Natalia.”
There was something wrong with the voice. It was someone else’s, tainted with a heaviness she didn’t understand. A power she didn’t know.
It wasn’t human.
“Look at what you really are.”
Her hands shot up in a panic as her airways constricted, her head forced back to stare at her own terrified expression, and as she fought to free herself from the invisible captor, a dark laugh echoed through her mind, drilling into her thoughts.
“A liar.”
Her throat was closing up, but as her eyelids flickered, Natasha saw a face in the mirror, hovering inches away from her own.
“Do you know what happens to liars, mortal?”
Scales flared up around blue eyes, traces of golden light buried in pale skin as a scarred hand gripped her throat tightly, the wicked smirk lighting up grotesque features making her stomach twist with fear.
“They live to regret their sins.”
Pain, expanding from her stomach, a horrific stabbing sensation rocking her unstable body and wracking her with nausea.
“If only you had told your little friends the truth, Natalia. Perhaps they could have saved you.”
Dread. Hot as her insides began to boil, but as she tried to scream, still fighting to free herself, the pain reached her head, and her breath was stolen completely.
“But you and I both know they never would have tried.”
Invisible hands wrapped around her bare waist, the scales rough and grating, slicing open her skin as her muscles grew tired, as her vision grew hazier.
My name is Natalia Romanova .
“You are nothing. You are no one.”
Her body went limp as she fought to suck in another breath, but it was useless.
“You are mine.”
Chapter 24: Hysterical and Useless.
Summary:
wow guys. its been ages. hope yall are good, bc im not after finishing this chapter, like at all.
my life got hectic, like crazy crazy busy, but here's the next chapter. I'm not gonna lie, this whole chapter felt like getting attacked again and again, and chapter 25 will be worse and could take even longer to release so sorry in advance! take care of yourselves, bc if you love these two, you're gonna need it after reading this.
chapter title from let down by radiohead.
Chapter Text
Rome, Italy.
Outside of Italia Hospital - Societa' Per Azioni.
7:24 pm, May 18th, 2012.
She looked so alive.
Moving so quickly, weaving her way through the darkened hallways, her burning eyes flashing brightly as lightning danced across the walls.
Loki didn’t know what to do with this feeling, weighing him down as he stayed close by her side, his heart hammering each time their arms brushed together, his chest tightening as his eyes fixed on the determination in her expression.
She was safe. She wasn’t angry with him, if her greeting had meant anything, and she was taking him in front of the Avengers to fight for him .
Because she needed him there. She needed him.
Loki wasn’t sure why his mind was so attached to that stupid notion, one that wasn’t even confirmed. It was a fantasy in his mind at best, a nightmare at worst. But the truth?
He couldn’t even kid himself with believing it anymore.
The brief moment of clarity that had accompanied the realisation had made it feel so real, but now, he knew it was just delusion brought on by a mind he hadn’t yet come to grips with. He was still settling back into this, into having his own mind back, so it only made sense that there was an adjustment period needed to get rid of all the idiocy left behind.
The resolve in Raya’s features was ferocious, every line of her face, every muscle in her body tensed in preparation, burning with the desire to defend him, to defend herself.
Loki blinked to stop that train of thought careening through the more sensible structures of his mind, and clenched his fist as he heard sharp, commanding yells echoing from outside the hospital filtering in through the cracks in the glass ahead of them.
This was really happening, and it was happening now . There was no running away from this. Not when Raya was glancing back at him and hooking him onto that shimmering glint in her eye, not when he had mere seconds before he was faced with all the people who wanted him dead once again and would be forced to plea for their forgiveness and permission, of all things.
It was hard to care. It was everything that he had ever hated, everything he’d ever reviled, and he was walking into it with a racing heart and a strange warmth clinging to the soul he didn’t believe he deserved, walking into it with Raya at his side like some sort of talisman of good luck.
Loki was snapped out of his awestruck trance by the now familiar, sharp sound of guns cocking all around him, but he didn’t dare turn to look at them.
His eyes were locked forwards. Locked on Raya’s rigid shoulders, her clenched jaw.
She wasn’t his point of focus. She couldn’t be, she was just there .
The shouting started the moment they crossed the threshold, stepping out into the damp air and wisps of rain, and though Raya’s eye twitched as water trickled over her face, she didn’t once falter, so neither did he.
She was easy to follow, that way.
That very thought made him feel sick, so caught off guard by his rushing mind that he hardly realised that they were now in front of a scattered, and very angry looking group of mortals.
He could see Thor just behind them, standing with the Hawk and Widow, Tony readjusting pieces of his red and gold armour at their side. They were all looking over at the commotion, and Loki could make out the shock on his brother’s face as he abruptly stopped swinging Mjolnir at his side.
There was something satisfying about finally catching him off guard after years of being labelled as far too predictable, but he wasn’t given any time to relish in that thought as the S.H.I.E.L.D agents in front of them raised up plastic shields.
Their attempt at intimidation was hilariously awful, he had to admit.
“Move.” Raya’s voice was calm, steady as she lifted her hand towards a human with the word Sargent taped across their chest. “This does not concern you.”
The human removed their helmet, revealing the irritated scowl of a young woman, her dark eyes flicking between both of them as she shifted her gun in her grip.
“ He isn’t authorised to be out here.” The woman spat, her features twisted with disgust, but even as Loki felt a filthy stab of shame bury itself in his stomach at her words, Raya was already speaking.
“He is with me.” She said smoothly, and red light danced over her bare fingers as aggravation sharpened the edges of her words. “That is reason enough.”
“The Director has made it clear that he is not accompanying us to the nesting site.” The woman cut back, and she stepped forwards, her chest puffed out in an idiotic display of importance. “He is a flight risk, and a proven antagonist, he can’t be around-”
Raya’s expression did not change, but her hand slowly lowered to her side, and Loki watched the anger in her expression dissolve into something much more solid, a resolve he didn’t quite understand.
Not until her fingers closed around his wrist, and he instantly went to jerk himself out of her grip.
Everything seemed to stop around them, entire lines of mortals freezing as Raya’s fingers slipped down to the underside of his wrist, creeping up to slide between his fingers, and then she was lifting their clasped hands in front of her as her self-assured words seemed to set fire to the world around them.
“Loki is with me. He is trustworthy. Now, move .”
Her skin on his.
Her hands, calloused, heavily scarred, were gripping him so tightly that it felt as if his circulation was being cut off, but as his chest caved in from pure shock, Loki found that he yet again didn’t care.
She was touching him, really touching him.
Really trusting him.
Loki let his eyes break away from the fierce look on her face as he caught the movement of his brother just behind the mortals, and he set his jaw as their eyes met.
He didn’t know what he was waiting for, but something was swelling in his chest, a warmth that he’d long since forgotten as he felt Raya’s fingers squeeze his, still holding them high in the air for everyone to see.
“Let them through.” Thor’s voice boomed over the surrounding crowd, and as the mortals flinched, thunder followed the words, shaking the ground beneath them. “Raya knows what she needs more than we do.”
Loki could feel the searing gaze of Fury burning through the side of his face as he stepped forwards through the group of now-pliant mortals, but he ignored it, letting his lips curl up into a familiar smirk.
No wonder the mightiest heroes of Earth continued to ride atop their high horses; the idea of being needed, of being wanted , was intoxicating, stronger than any substance he had ever been privy to.
He wouldn’t let his mind linger any more on the weight of Raya’s hand in his.
The goddess looked almost smug, an expression Loki never would’ve thought he’d see on her face, but there was something harsher lying beneath the calm features, he knew there had to be.
She was so confident in his trustworthiness, despite everything. She believed in him so much that it was disgustingly overwhelming, the idea making his chest tighten as they paused in front of the Avengers.
At a strange glance from Tony, Loki hurriedly ripped his hand out of Raya’s, internally mourning the loss of her touch, but the goddess didn’t even look at him, her expression calm as her gaze locked on Fury’s, easily letting him go.
“Loki will be coming with us. For your safety.” Raya said forcefully, her words sharp, and as Fury set his jaw, she only spoke louder. “I assure you. You will need him as I do.”
Tony was looking at him now, and Loki forced himself to keep his back straight, to keep his eyes forwards. He wasn’t quite sure why Raya was this adamant for him to be with them, but he had learned, time and time again since her arrival, that it was better to just listen to her.
No. She did not command him, she was only… a guiding force it was in his best interest to follow. For his personal gain, and his freedom.
Nothing else.
“Do you think you can keep a leash on your ward?” Fury said, anger flooding his tone, and Loki bristled at the implication, fighting to keep himself standing tall. “Because this isn’t a fucking game. He has killed hundreds of people-”
“And I have killed thousands.” Raya shot back, her tone cool, concise. “You use me as your weapon as you please. He will protect you, just as he has before.”
Loki swallowed the scoff clawing up his throat, and simply nodded at her words, trying to ease his hammering heart at the aggravating spectacle of it all.
Pleading and begging for them to let him join them as if he couldn’t tear through their limbs and leave them choking on their own blood in seconds was humiliating, but as Raya glanced over at him once again, her eyes shining with faith, Loki simply set his jaw and forced himself to play along.
If it was what she needed, he could pretend. She knew more about this situation; she knew how to beat these beasts far more easily than any of them did.
He wasn’t one for trust, but as the heat of Raya’s fingers lingered along his wrist, Loki knew this was one time he had to try and believe in someone else.
She was selfless. Selfless and strong, bright and unyielding.
A true star.
Fury looked as if he was about to pop a blood vessel, and Loki relished in causing the vexing man any sort of discomfort, keeping his gaze locked on his as he smirked.
Even if they tried to bar him from coming, Loki could see that Raya wouldn’t take no for an answer. If they hurt him, she’d shut down. If they hurt her, they only put themselves in more danger.
It was a seamless con, executed to perfection.
Perhaps she deserved more credit for her plans than he’d cared to admit.
“For fucks sake, fine !” Fury finally conceded, throwing his hands up in an irritated motion before gesturing to the crowd of S.H.I.E.L.D agents behind them. “Let’s move it out! We’re going, now !”
The crowd of mortals moved instantly, rushing towards the trucks lined up at Fury’s back, uncocking guns and sweeping past them hurriedly, and in the chaos of movement, Loki looked over at Raya to see a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
She seemed to deflate at the confirmation, but the sparkle in her eyes remained, a vicious determination, a heated passion, a pride in herself that he felt echoed in some dormant part of his heart.
The thought struck hard, a blow to the chest that left him winded and flailing as he gazed at her, all of his nerves set ablaze by the horrific word circling through his head.
Beautiful.
No. That wasn’t what he’d meant. That wasn’t it at all, that couldn’t be, that wasn’t it-
Raya turned to face him, and the word flooded his senses, creeping down his throat, swallowing his breaths in blood tainted words and softening brown eyes.
Before he understood what was happening, Raya had stepped closer, her smile fading ever so slightly as she gestured towards his hand with her fingers.
“You are cold.” She said matter-of-factly, her forehead scrunching up in something awfully like concern as she met his eyes. “Your skin is cold.”
There was absolutely no way this was real in any capacity.
Perhaps he was hallucinating again, stuck in a state of limbo by Thanos, forced to replay a horribly disgusting scenario again and again, forced to endure this pounding heart and flush of heat swelling up in his chest as his mouth opened and closed like a brainless fool as a punishment for his disobedience.
Raya’s head tilted slightly, and Loki swallowed hard, fighting to keep his composure as he ran a barely shaking hand through his hair.
She could hear it, she could hear his heart, she could hear it lying to her, because this wasn’t him, he didn’t feel like this-
“At least you’re not completely hopeless.” He said harshly, choking on the barbed words as they scraped past his throat, over his tongue, out of his mouth. “I was beginning to worry.”
Dark eyes, glittering with a muted red light, locking onto his with a careful sense of consideration.
“I believe you have improved my rudimentary skills.”
Those words, coupled with the smile on Raya’s face, something so different than the customary blankness, sent a thrill of shock through him, a breathless laugh bubbling up out of his mouth as he stared back at her.
She was making a joke. The same joke she’d made on that godforsaken boat, sheltered from everyone but him, after she’d freed him for the first time, after she’d given him space to breathe.
A glint of something new sparkled in those crimson eyes, and Loki felt himself tense for the worst instinctively, but when Raya simply continued to gaze at him with that strange smile on her face, he forced himself to breathe out.
“You have to protect them.” Her voice was quiet, but her words were firm, leaving no room for a debate. “You have to, no matter the circumstance. Swear you will.”
Her tone was as serious as always, but as he lifted his head slightly, he caught sight of the slight tightness in her jaw, the carefully practiced expression.
It wasn’t his place to ask why she was putting up a mask, but tendrils of doubt began weaving their way into his mind as he watched her straighten herself up under his gaze.
“I assure you that no mortal, no matter how vexing or rage inducing they may be, will be killed.” He answered quickly, keeping his words clipped and direct, watching her shoulders relax every so slightly. “Despite my objections to their existence, I am aware you want the best for them.”
I trust you.
The three words clung to him, digging their harsh spines into his throat as he swallowed over them, wanting to be freed for a reason he knew not even Frigga herself could decipher.
It could be so easy, to admit something real. To tell the truth, as she so desperately wanted, and return the sentiment she had just declared to everyone.
Then, the trucks around them started up, engines kicking into gear loudly and blowing back any sense of strength he’d mustered to speak them aloud.
Raya’s eyelids fluttered, and Loki allowed himself a moment to appreciate the warmth of her features; white lines of scarring stretching up over her tanned nose, wisps of loose curls sticking around the sweat-beaded crown of her head, rich hues of brown mingling with crimson rivers of light as her distant gaze swept over the surrounding humans.
Beats of silence, as the air was sucked out of his lungs and he watched her chest rise and fall, taking his life force from his body and funnelling it into her own.
The picture of strength, of ability. It had been difficult to ever find someone to match him, to connect with him on any level, but Raya surpassed any other contenders with her pureness.
Not her innocence, as Loki was quite certain she’d been born without any, but her honesty. Her truth unbroken, unshattered by any of the trials set before her, unlike himself, who faltered in the face of danger and baulked at the strangeness of his own feelings.
She was something he’d never encountered, but he knew that already. She was different, unique, far better than he could ever be, and yet did not seem to know that for herself.
A perfect soldier. The perfect warrior.
Perfect.
Lightning flashed across the trucks, and Loki was moving as Raya did, following her steps onto the closest one, allowing her to pull him up by the arm, just as she had done so many times before.
Did she realise how different that was? Did she even know the significance of what she was doing, that no one had ever offered to help him with anything, with the exception of his brother many, many moons ago?
The rain thundered down against the metal walls, and soldiers cried out to each other all around them, but the sounds were muted as dread and relief crashed through Loki’s chest, an amalgamation of confusing, confronting emotions he didn’t have time to process assaulting his every sense.
He took the earpiece offered to him by Tony without looking up, pressing it into his ear to secure it, and nodding curtly when the Captain called out his name over the intercom.
Mortals had such strange contraptions to help them cope with existence.
He felt fingers squeeze his wrist, just below the golden brace, and he glanced back over at Raya as the truck started moving, shaking the floor beneath them and forcing him to plant his free hand against the wall.
She wasn’t looking at him, but there was something different hidden behind the grimness of her expression as she adjusted the earpiece that made his heart thud harder against his ribs.
Perhaps that was what made him do it. Perhaps it was the change, or the tightness in his chest, or the soft heat of her skin.
Loki decided he didn’t care what it was.
Not when he slipped his hand into hers, watching a pleased sense of shock dance across beautiful features, and felt something warm twinge in a heart he’d deemed long since frozen over.
*
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
7:30 pm, May 18th, 2012.
His skin was still cold.
An undercurrent of heat thudded in his veins, but the surface was cold, skin pressed against hers in a strange hold, fingers clasping, pressure against her hand, across her knuckles.
It was… different. Strange. Nice.
The truck bumped along the road, each jolt sending a flush of dread through her nerves, and even as excitement mingled with the emotion, a feral joy at the idea of killing once again, Raya could feel a heaviness falling over her.
Some sort of acceptance, a dull, pounding sense of reassurance, telling her she was right. That everything would work out the way it should.
But there was something wrong.
Heartbeats throbbed and pulsed through the air around her, blood hot and searing flooding through veins and tensed muscles, and yet through the noise, the thrashing limbs and heated skin, there was something wrong .
A mind, unsettled. A soul, unrooted from its perch, torn from its clambering place in the centre mass of humanity.
She could taste it in the air, had felt it the moment she’d left that building, stronger than ever. It had been Loki, before, that had carried that dark shadow, that lingering scent of rot and decay, but it was gone from him now.
He was free. So why was it still here?
Raya clenched her hand, breathing in and out as she tapped her fingers against the back of Loki’s hand, following that steadying beat, that gentle thrum.
His heart stood out amongst the others, calm instead of frantic, guiding her mind back to rationality. Each beat tasted like regret, smelt like cruelty, felt like irreparable damage made to undeserving creatures.
But it was still there. He was still there.
The air was so damp, swelling in her lungs and stuffing it with humidity, unlike anything she’d ever felt before as rain lashed at the truck’s sides.
The plan was simple. Kill everything, everything from her planet that had clawed its way onto Earth, and keep the humans safe. They deserved to be safe.
Clint, with his fingers on his arrow, his eyes wide as he stared straight down. Natasha, scratching behind her ear, her chest expanding hurriedly, deeply. Tony, with his shaking hands coated in metal, protected by armour. Thor, hammer in his hand, totally still, glancing up at her with an indescribable look on his face.
Not all of them, but that urge welled up in her chest anyway as Loki’s fingers carefully traced over the edge of her wrist.
She had to keep them safe. Through any means necessary.
Green eyes found hers, and she looked back at them, blinking as they shone brightly, watching as they narrowed slightly.
Pretty.
She had to protect them.
The truck came to a sudden halt, and Raya lurched forwards, her arm shooting up to catch Loki before he toppled forwards, saliva filling her mouth as that strange, sweet smell returned.
It was fresh, a rotting scent of decay, attacking her senses like a physical force, and as the waves of it swept over her, the heartbeats around her soared, joined by heavier, deeper beats she knew all too well.
They were here.
It was cold as the rain lashed at her face. The ground was under her feet, a metallic door laying on the ground before her, small, pricking stings igniting over the small slivers of bare skin over her body as muffled voices called out to her.
The building was a feat. Raya looked up at the crumbling stone, stretching towards the greyed clouds, and felt it.
Dread. Fear. A gut-wrenching heat, pulling her heart out of her chest and her intestines from her body. A horrifyingly familiar certainty.
She was home.
She could hear the cries. Taste the blood in the air, pulled forth by her tongue, her teeth, her hands. Fighting people, smothered in crimson light, betrayers, traitors, sicknesses to the crown. Weak warriors, seeking death at her hand for their failures.
No match for her and all her strength. No safety in an arena. No safety in what they knew.
Her chest was tight. She could recognise that now, that searing pain pressing into the back of her throat.
Guilt, remorse, anger, sadness. They all tasted the same, all hurt the same way.
These walls were unsullied by her, but they were so…
A weight in her right hand, and she looked down to see her sword, heated silver sliding through the golden blade to meet the red-orange stone buried in the hilt.
A call she hadn’t even realised she’d made. A selfish cry for her own protection from the wrongness in the air.
A weight on her left wrist. A thrill of cold, a hint of softness.
Loki.
“Raya, you need to focus. Return to us.”
The words ricocheted off her memories, shattering the darkness and pulling her back to the scent of rain and metal, of human bodies and wet, cold air.
Green.
Breath in. Out. In.
One. Pause. Two. Pause.
“I can feel them.” She said quickly, blinking as she turned, surprised to see so many people surrounding her already. “They are hiding. They know something is wrong.”
Her eyes flicked over to Thor, who’s face was greying slightly, his breaths short and clipped as he gazed up at the sky, and raised her hand, pulling it away from Loki’s fingertips.
“You can rest now.” She murmured, and as his tired eyes lowered to hers, Raya skimmed her fingers through the air, red light flying out towards him. “They need to feel me, as I feel them.”
Crimson glittered over black helmets as it seeped into Thor’s surprised expression, reflected in the rain, and a hush descended upon them all as his hand froze at his side.
The clouds remained, but the rain stopped, a sweeping pulse of breathlessness flipping through the air as the storm above went silent, and Raya could see so much clearer as the water sizzled off her skin.
Heat rushed in to replace the coolness, and she inhaled shakily as Thor’s shoulders relaxed, ignoring the sharp intakes of breath all around her as thudding heartbeats reverberated beneath her skin.
Her fist clenched, nails digging into her palm, and their warmth sprung up clearly, heated embers in a dying fire, the humans, then her creatures hidden behind limestone walls.
The kleviah were everywhere.
Hidden in crevices, tucked in corners, awaiting her, ready to spring on them.
Raya readjusted her grip on her sword, setting her jaw.
They wanted their fight. To die trying to take her life.
They would get what they so desperately craved.
A roar echoed through the air, high pitched and rattling, chains caught on barbed wire, stone against faithless minds, and Raya felt the humans shift as one, their bodies tensing in preparation for the fight.
She turned to face them, and found an army staring back at her.
With Loki at her left side, she raised her sword to the right, and pointed at the building before them, the monument treasured by humanity, and shifted her gaze to Tony.
“Your flares of light, follow me. They will distract them enough that they will not anticipate my next moves.” She glanced towards Clint, eyeing up his weapons and continued with a sharp jab of her sword. “You, on high ground, out of the way. Thor will be with me.”
Raya lowered her eyes to face Steve, Bruce and Natasha, ignoring the clearly agitated Fury standing at their side, and gestured towards the soldiers behind them.
“Keep your eyes on them. You are not meant to interfere, but the kleviah will attack you as the weak links. Guide them as far as you can, and signal for our help.” She said, watching the way Steve’s expression tightened, a sharp nod following the shift. “Your bullets will be useless, so you are nothing more than a distraction for them.”
Several of the soldiers around her shifted uncomfortably, clutching their weapons closer, and she shot a sharp look at Fury; had he not informed his warriors of their imminent demise?
“You are not safe here, and I will not save you all.” She said, allowing her voice to rise over the helmeted heads around her. “May Mars guide you in battle. May your deaths be not in vain.”
Another roar, far louder this time, echoed through the air and was joined by another from the far end of the monument, sending a familiar thrill of challenge down Raya’s spine as she spun around.
“There will be entrances everywhere.” She continued quickly as the storm clouds above them crackled with an angry red light, her words now pointed towards Tony. “The human soldiers must use them to their advantage to stay hidden, but we must rise above them.”
Tony’s grim smile disappeared as he snapped his helmet shut, and his voice came through the earpiece, clear and sharp.
“Aye-aye, boss lady.”
Raya shifted her gaze to her left as she spun her sword in her hand, locking her grip on the handle just as Loki’s eyes found hers.
“Stay with the humans.” She said quickly, unsure why her stomach was twisting, her chest seizing. “There will be tunnels underground; I can feel them hiding there. Kill what you can, then return to me.”
There was a moment of silence as she felt the heartbeats around her begin to race, apprehension sweeping through her nerves at the panic seeping off the humans, but then Loki nodded and bowed his head slightly towards her.
“As the star commands.” He said, his voice clipped and short, but his gaze was no more harsh than usual, no less genuine. “It will be done.”
Raya let out a sharp breath, relief cutting into her chest as she held his gaze for a few seconds, eyes breaking away to trail over his features as she tried to stamp down the eerily sweet warmth bubbling up in her stomach.
“Do not die.”
The words left her mouth before she could grasp why, and Loki’s eyes widened just a fraction before he straightened up further and nodded.
His heart was pounding.
“Do not leave me with fools.” He said quietly, his voice even, but with a flicker of something else that spun her mind off its axis.
Perhaps this was his way of sending off everyone. He’d said it once before; the night the waves crashed in around her and swallowed her whole.
The night she’d first breathed in his magic. The night he’d kept her alive.
Alive for this.
“I will not die for you.” She said, trying to lilt her voice up the way the humans did when they were being kind, comforting. “I will not leave you with fools.”
Loki’s expression did not shift, still tight and sharp, but there was something hanging in the air around him that confused her; a sense of disbelief, of unease.
Was it her mind playing tricks? Was the concern stifled by his features real, or an act to conceal himself before the humans?
It did not matter. Concern would not win this battle.
Power would.
She turned her head back to the crowd of human soldiers, breathing in the familiar scent of sweat, of fear, and lifted her hand to gesture towards the right side of the battalion.
“You, follow Loki.” She said quickly, cutting a sharp look towards the whispering humans that silenced them immediately. “He knows the way. He will protect those of you that he can, but it will be your own choices that determine your survival.”
Raya flicked her fingers towards the left side and jerked her head towards the large doors behind her, aware of the way eyes followed her every move, a weight so established that it tightened her chest.
“You will follow me. You will be left to your own devices, to defend yourself and to hide.” She said smoothly, ignoring the spike of panicked heartbeats as they thrummed through her body. “You will be hard pressed to make any real damage, as your only true purpose is to be a distraction.”
High pitched, terrible laughter echoed high above her head, and Raya looked up to see the sky swirling with red tinted clouds, fiery peaks flying through the air as the unmistakable flap of wings followed the roars.
The humans were mumbling, twitching and shuddering as their guns clicked in their fingers, and Raya lowered her gaze towards them as she shrugged her shoulders, setting her jaw as the sting of scales began to tear up her spine.
“Sounds like go-time, kid.” Tony’s voice came from beside her, and she nodded as she tightened her grip on the handle of her sword.
“Yes. Time to go.” She repeated, wrinkling her nose slightly at his phrasing.
Did all of humanity speak like that? Or was it specific to him?
She rolled her shoulders, swallowing the wince that threatened to show on her face as her wings flew out on either side of her, sighing as scales spread out over her skin, warmth following suit and setting her nerves ablaze.
Raya wasn’t sure why she did it, as she blinked and crimson light seeped into her vision. Wasn’t certain what called her to look, when she beat her wings and hovered above the ground, sending dust and dirt spinning all around her feet.
But Loki’s eyes met hers when she turned her head, and the strange sense of discomfort bubbled up in her chest, merging with that consistent warmth, threading through her body and causing her to offer him a nod of acknowledgement.
He tilted his head in return, and that was enough.
She spun around up into the sky, the sound of Tony’s armour whirring to life beside her a welcome accompaniment, raising her sword in preparation as she roared back in challenge to the shadows in the sky.
Their reply meant war.
And she was all too happy to comply.
*
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
7:38 pm, May 18th, 2012.
The chill seemed to get to the humans far quicker than it got to him.
The tunnels beneath the Colosseum were a winding, twisting mess, but Loki found he could navigate his way through them easily, so there was no inherent problem with Raya’s plan.
The weight of the deathly still air around them, however, was what made his skin crawl.
The Captain was at his right side, Natasha further over still, and even as the muffled sounds of fighting echoed high above their heads, Loki did not dare break the tense silence that had fallen between them.
He’d been in a crypt before. Felt the cold, terrible feeling of Hel’s hands sliding along his spine, beckoning for him in a hollow, awful way, taunting him with the secrets hidden in his flesh, and the warmth of his blood.
This reminded him of that, and as flashlights from soldiers crowded in behind him swept over dusty, cracked stone and piles of darkly stained rubble, Loki felt the despair only such a place could bring forth.
It was useless, tainted, terrible.
Everything was hopeless in the face of Hel herself.
The humans were no longer whispering to each other, merely shuffling along in his wake, their nervousness seeping into the space that confined them and weighing on him in a horribly real way. It was somewhat comforting to learn that they did possess a modicum of survival skills, no matter how disheartening their obvious panic was, but Loki supposed there was only so much to be grateful for in this situation.
The waiting was killing him as well, not that they deserved to hear him voice it, but he had to admit that it wasn’t exactly an unfamiliar sensation.
He had spent his life waiting for bad things to happen. What was another few minutes?
The world around him shook suddenly, dust and chips of dirt tumbling down from the narrow hallway’s roof, and Loki caught himself on the wall, his free hand automatically shooting up to catch a stumbling Steve from toppling over.
He wanted to withdraw the reflex the moment he felt the heavy weight of the man on his arm, but he instead gritted his teeth and waited for the shaking to stop, bracing his arm to keep them both upright.
His breath was tight in his chest, and he realised now that it was burning, his bones flooded with panic as he watched the stones above them tremble.
Whatever was happening up there, he hoped Raya was winning.
Steve’s weight suddenly left him as the quaking came to an abrupt halt, and he bit his lip to hold back the scornful words lining his mouth as he caught sight of the fearful look on the man’s face; really, the man out of time ought to have more backbone than this. What was he, a child afraid of catching a fabricated illness?
Natasha’s face was white as she glanced over at him, and Loki forced himself to refrain from rolling his eyes, pushing back off the wall and straightening up.
Some great heroes. They couldn’t even handle a little uneven ground.
Just as he moved to take another step forwards, a high pitched, piercing whistle reverberated through his skull, and Loki gasped as he threw his hands up to cover his ears.
Steve swam before him, his eyes narrowed in- not concern, nothing that stupid, just disdain for his weakness- and Loki flinched back from the searing touch of his hand as the whistling peaked, little daggers of sound burying themselves in his skull.
“Loki? Loki, are you okay? Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay, it’s just a bruise.”
Frigga?
“Just breathe, honey. It’s okay, go on.”
Loki sucked in a sharp breath, ducking his head to hide the tears burning in his eyes as he forced himself back to his feet – when had he fallen? – and swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
“There’s magic here.” He said hurriedly, spitting the words out through gritted teeth. “Raya missed something, there’s something else-”
“There are those we call delirus. Traitors of the throne, soldiers who cracked under the training given to us… rebels.”
Raya hadn’t forgotten anything. She had warned him, and he’d forgotten.
The cold was a warning.
“There are no kleviah down here.” The words felt surreal, broken and punctured by his sharp intakes of breath.
“What are you talking about?” Steve said quickly, even toned and yet firm. “Raya sent us down here for a reason, she said-”
“She said to kill what we can.” Loki cut back sharply, trying to focus over the thundering of his own heart. “She didn’t mean kleviah, she meant the delirus. There are mortals down here.”
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the great Steve Rogers. Horror? A gut wrenchingly sickened look on his face at the thought of killing his brethren?
But Steve did none of that. He didn’t even flinch. His eyes didn’t go wide, his jaw didn’t drop and fall open in shock.
Instead, his jaw set, and Loki watched him readjust his grip on his shield as he raised his head high.
“Do you know how many? Do you know if they’ll be hostile on sight, or if we can calm them down?” The Captain said, and the barest hint of respect flickered to life in his chest at the determination in his voice. “Can they be saved?”
Perhaps, the mortals could surprise him yet.
Loki shook his head as he met Steve’s eyes, settling the nerves spiking along his spine with a measured breath.
“The way Raya spoke of them… they are unsavable.” He said evenly, noting the slight twitches in the Captain’s features as the gravity of the situation tugged them into a grim expression. “We have to kill them. If they get to the surface, they’ll only be a distraction to her.”
The whistling sounded again, closer this time, but Loki lifted his head to face it this time, fighting through the burning ache it ignited in his chest, staring into the darkness ahead of them.
The lone whistle pitched up shrilly, and Natasha covered her ears with shaking hands, but Loki didn’t have time to evaluate the horror in her expression before another whistle echoed along the hallway from behind them.
A cold chill of dread swept through him as the two whistles intertwined into a chorus of painful harmony, and his mouth felt dry as Steve looked over at him in confusion, his eyes narrowed against the agitating noise.
“We’re surrounded.”
The words left his lips quietly, leaving a disgusting taste in his mouth, but they seemed to fill the stifled space easily, floating over the heads of the troubled humans behind them and hushing their panicked mumblings.
The whistling stopped.
Silence.
He was back in that crypt again. Walled in by the threat of mortality, freezing against a chill that had no wind behind it, no mortal comparison, no explanation other than an intrinsic fear of promised nothingness.
Death was everywhere.
The harsh stillness was shattered by a body hitting the floor, and Loki started, whipping his head towards the sound of Natasha’s head cracking against the stone.
The humans gasped and stumbled, muttering in horror as Natasha’s pale face contorted into an expression of utter anguish, but when screams began to leave her lips, they weren’t normal, weren’t human.
They were high-pitched, echoing whistles.
She led them right to us.
The certainty hit him in full force, leaving no room for question or pause, and he stepped away from Natasha’s thrashing body just as the humans behind him began to yell.
A whistle, sharp and precise, a cutting blast of wind, swept through the soldiers, and Loki’s eyes flicked over his shoulder in time to see an armoured mortal hit the rough ceiling, their spine cracking under the impact and cutting off their panicked scream instantly.
There was a second, as the air tightened with fear around him, as Natasha’s choked on her own saliva, as Steve’s shield clattered against the floor, the Captain fighting to help her up, that Loki thought about it.
That the desire to run, to flee from the oncoming battle hit him with full force, his body far too willing to listen to his mind’s hurried urgings to abandon the people who’d caged him, and let them suffer a fate worse than death.
The magic shot out of his hands before another thought had time to cross his mind, and he grunted as it filled the other end of the hallway, blocking off whatever was targeting the humans.
“Run!” He yelled, raising his hands as green light expanded out into the rock, burying itself into the fissures as he pushed his way through the humans. “All of you, go! Now !”
There was no hesitancy in the humans now. They barely even glanced at him as they rushed past, a torrent of shadow sweeping around his body in horrified waves as they ran, guns gripped tight, and commands flying through the stagnant air.
Something hit the energy field, and Loki clenched his jaw as a mangled figure swiped at it, a sting of pain rattling through his wrists as its golden eyes flicked up to meet his.
There was no mistake to be made now.
The delirus were here.
Several more of them were rushing out of the darkness now, their whistling flooding his senses with pain as they began to attack his forcefield, and Loki stifled his yell of pain as he looked over his shoulder at the place the two Avengers had been.
Natasha was gone.
Steve was lying on his side, blood leaking from the side of his head, and as Loki took a step back, dragging the forcefield with him, he realised that the edge of the Captain’s shield was stained crimson.
Loki could almost scoff at the unfairness of it; all that issue with his trustworthiness, when the Widow had been the traitor they sought.
He pushed away that bitterness, his hands trembling slightly as yet another face began to hammer itself against his magic, whistles piercing through his thoughts as he dropped his hands, severing the connection to the energy.
The delirus screamed, hollering in sick laughter, but the forcefield held, and Loki turned away from them to drop to the ground, grimacing as he tugged Steve’s arm up and over his shoulders.
The Captain’s eyes fluttered, and Loki snapped his fingers in front of his face, harshly tugging him to his feet, swallowing the panic rising in his chest as he set his features.
“Pull yourself together!” He hissed through gritted teeth, scooping up the shield in one hand and forcing it into the soldier’s as the screeching grew louder behind them. “I’m not having anyone think I murdered their golden boy, move !”
Steve coughed, his breathing rattling slightly as blood trickled down his forehead, but he nodded nonetheless, tightening his grip on the shield as Loki heaved them forwards.
“She wasn’t herself…” Steve mumbled, and Loki rolled his eyes as the man leaned on him heavily. “It wasn’t… She didn’t…”
Steve’s wandering eyes stalled on the blood tainting the curve of the shield, and Loki clenched his jaw, pain rippling through his gut as more of the creatures began gnawing on his magic.
“I don’t care for the semantics, Captain .” He spat, knocking his shoulder against Steve’s to make him look away from the shield, green light glittering over the edge to clear away the stain. “We don’t have much time, we need to get back to the surface, so focus, now!”
Steve nodded again, his head hanging as he took on more of his own weight, and they began hobbling forwards, not as fast as he’d hoped, but certainly better than staying stalled in that hallway of death.
Loki didn’t allow relief to prick at him, pushed away any notion of hope as his sternum ached, the weight of holding up the shield ripping at his insides, but as Steve’s hand gripped harder at his opposite shoulder, he let out a burning breath.
“Don’t call me Captain.” Steve said, his voice cracking ever so slightly over the words, and Loki glanced down to see him wince. “Steve. Just… just call me Steve.”
There was something so sincere in the man’s words, something that hinted towards warmth, towards… trust.
Loki blinked, erasing the pain behind his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the aching, and did not reply.
*
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
7:47 pm, May 18th, 2012.
There were far more than she had ever thought possible.
Unhatched eggs were peeking out of darkened corners, aggravated kleviah standing guard over them, snapping and crying out as others took to the skies, ready for the battle.
The humans were screaming, the sound of their gunfire reverberating through her skull as the flashes of light bounced rapidly through the air, deflecting off the kleviah’s toughened skin and sinking into the stone around them.
They didn’t stand a chance.
She knew it, as she tore through the back of a klevia’s neck, her hand protruding from its gaping maw as her claws buried itself in its nose. The humans were outmatched, and their racing, panicked heartbeats were whirring through her head, setting her nerves aflame with the desire to rush them all out of here.
It was new. Strange, and yet not wholly unfamiliar.
“On your right!” Tony yelled, and Raya spun, wings angling down as she dragged the klevia towards the ground, the heat of Tony’s energy blast sending a rush of revitalization through her skin.
Arrows rained down around her, and she dived out of range as one exploded above her, the klevia now biting down on her arm screeching as the sparks flew into its eyes.
There was smoke everywhere, clouding her reddened vision, and as she twisted her hand around the creature’s tongue and tore it out, thunder rolled through the sky above her, lightning igniting the air around her.
Thor swept past with two large klevia tailing him, and Raya let the lifeless one hanging off her arm fall as she dived after him, her heart pounding as her wings cut through the heavy air.
The humans didn’t understand the gravity of their casualties.
They started with five hundred. The agents that had swarmed the Colosseum in aid of the Avengers were misinformed, misguided and made to misunderstand the reality of their situation.
The heartbeats had fallen fast, dying out under the fire and crushing majority of their enemies.
Did they understand that they had one hundred and forty soldiers left?
Magic burned and bled into her skin, rushing out of her fingertips, and the kleviah stopped in their pursuit, reigned in by the burn, and Raya screamed as she flew between their thrashing bodies.
Her hands shot out, claws digging into their exposed stomachs, and as their blood flew into the air, intestines dragged upwards by the wild winds, the adrenaline didn’t come.
The reassuring, overwhelming need for the kill, it was stifled, overshadowed by the weight of her guilt.
She screamed as she let them fall to the ground, spinning in the air as other kleviah rushed up towards her, and still the vindication didn’t hit as their bodies were torn apart by the strings of her energy, wet maws ripped to shreds as it threaded through their boiling insides.
This feeling, it seared away what she understood. Took away the desire for destruction she knew, that deeply ingrained want, and replaced it with this.
This. The emotion she’d felt when facing Loki on that altar.
There was no name she knew, but it persevered anyway.
She looked down at the stone far below and watched as the remaining soldiers ducked and dived through the archways and into crumbling tunnels, their gunfire still flashing uselessly into the sky.
The kleviah were laughing, screaming in hysterics of excitement as they dove towards the humans, and the bright light in their predatory eyes sent a flare of rage through her.
It wasn’t right. They didn’t ask for this suffering, to be dragged into this chaos because of her. The Avengers, fighting with her and fighting beneath the stone, they had a chance, an advantage with their knowledge and physical ability.
This was just another death match.
She was sick of death matches. Sick of wasted lives.
The energy pulsed out of her as she began the downward spiral, the wind wrapping around her as she pulled her wings in tightly around her, and as the kleviah turned to caw at her, challenge carved into their every scream, she only shrieked back.
She was swarmed in seconds, claws and teeth and scales clashing together in all around her as she expanded her wings, and anger fuelled the burst of magic that flooded the air around them, red light flying out to target the weakened skin.
The kleviah cried out in pain, in fury, but Raya could not hear their weakness. It only incentivised the hatred, the dark pit of emotions broiling through her body as she savagely swiped at their flailing bodies.
In a second, they had all fallen away, empty souls careening towards the ground, and she licked their blood from the crook of her arm as she looked down, her wings spread wide as she hovered over the mass grave.
This would not be her last time seeing one, she knew. It certainly was not the first.
“Heads up!” Tony called over the rumbling thunder, and Raya immediately followed his shining figure with her eyes. “Natasha has resurfaced!”
She caught sight of the stumbling woman immediately, watching her as unease pricked at the back of her neck, as sickness poisoned the already confusing concoction of emotion in her stomach.
She let herself free fall, dodging a lightning strike as Thor yelled somewhere high above her, but as the ground rushed up to meet her, Natasha’s gaze lifted and locked on hers.
The wrongness flipped, spinning and twisting until it locked into place, so permanent and undeniable that Raya felt the air rush out of her heaving lungs as dread clamped over her throat.
“Did you truly think you could outrun me, daughter?”
Raya swept past Tony, blasting him backwards with a wave of heat, but even as she heard him exclaim, she did not turn to look at him.
She simply kept falling.
Her body collided with Natasha’s, the sensation tearing through her nerves as she forced her head into the stone, but even as she wrapped her hands around the woman’s throat, she knew it was too late.
The Empress was here.
“Go!” She screamed up at the sky as she pinned Natasha beneath her, beating her wings hard against the ground to keep the woman still. “Go, go, stay back!”
Tony’s boosters kicked into gear behind her head, the waves of heat pressing into her skin as Natasha’s hands gripped at her biceps, and she slammed the woman’s head back into the stone, cracking it in two.
Laughter was issuing from the woman’s mouth, and as blonde strands of hair curled down around her fingers, Raya squeezed her throat tighter, fear cutting deep into her chest as the blue eyes flickered gold.
“Do you think killing her will get rid of me? Because I will not leave so easily.”
“Be quiet!” Raya yelled over the screeching kleviah, but just as she raised her fist to collide with Natasha’s skull, the woman’s hand shot up and caught her fist.
Burning.
Heat shot through her skin, crackling beneath the flesh and searing at her nerves, and as she screamed, her body was thrown backwards but a pulse of golden light, blinding and horrible.
Awfully familiar.
“How weak you are. Not even able to protect those you fight for.”
Raya swiped instinctively at the golden figure before her, but in an instant, her legs gave out underneath her, and she was tumbling forwards, stinging light enveloping her as the ground scraped at her body.
When she opened her eyes, the storm above was gone.
The air was dry, all humidity sucked out and replaced with heat, sand swirling through the sky listlessly as a hot gust of wind forced her head up, a harsh ball of dread sinking into her stomach as her eyes darted around.
There was the stone, built up all around her, not hiding the red surroundings, not keeping away the scent of singed flesh and decomposing bodies. A temple, with the golden inscriptions carved into the high walls, the roof, proclaiming its goddess.
Discordia’s temple. The Empress’s worshipping ground.
Her mother’s true home.
She was back on Cirica.
“Did you forget where you came from so easily?”
The Empress’s voice rang out clearly in the familiar, empty silence, and Raya forced herself to her feet as she breathed out shakily, turning to face her.
Her mother was sitting on her throne, spikes protruding from her limbs, wrapped tightly around her body, securing her to the seat, but there was no discomfort in her wicked smile.
“Have you truly weakened so much, that you cannot handle returning to your true home?”
The Empress’s eyes were burrowing into her, her voice cutting into her mind, but as she tried to speak, a slash of heat erupted across her mouth, and the Empress laughed once again.
“Are you robbed of words by your fear? Or is it the guilt of all those you left behind?” Her golden gaze was brightened by malice as she added, her voice deathly quiet, “The one you have grown attached to… his heart was quite the delicacy. Such a shame you could not sample it yourself.”
This feeling, it had no name.
The gutted, hollow sensation of a sword through her sternum, or a hand reaching down her throat and tearing out her stomach.
“He cried when I did it. I let him feel the pain for a few minutes; far more satisfying to hear him scream for help, and to realise that you weren’t coming to save him.”
Loki.
Dead.
The thought wouldn’t stop repeating, churning and sticking to her mind as she stared up at her mother’s bloodied lips.
It hurt.
Everything. Everything hurt .
No.
Chapter 25: The Bravest Soldier.
Summary:
hey y'all. the ao3 curse got me so bad i ended up in hospital, and maybe i'm gonna lose my job, BUT. rayaloki lives through it all.
shout out to my beautiful girl, who i've started dating during the time it took me to finish this goddamn chapter. so glad its over, but i expect my throat to ripped out by all of you the way writing this did to my heart.
chapter 26 will take forever, most likely, because of the psychological damage im taking each time i have to write the story i made up (i know, my life is the hardest ever).
after all of this, i wish you all luck with this chapter. i cried writing it, far too much, and chapter 26 is undoubtedly worse. so keep yourselves safe, find a nice place to curl up with a comforting food or drink, and try not to feel emotionally destroyed by my two gods who are suffering through very ungodly levels of hell, but who couldn't operate a vending machine as a joint effort.
I wish you the best, and await your wishes for my downfall. stay safe! love you guys <3
chapter title from you're losing me by t swift.
Chapter Text
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
7:50 pm, May 18th, 2012.
He couldn’t pull Steve along fast enough.
Loki groaned as the soldier winced, his head falling forwards and his shoulder twinging as he pulled him into a harshly cut out space in the hallway’s wall.
Steve’s hands were stained red from trying to staunch the bleeding, and Loki tapped his paling cheek with his fingers only to receive a babbling, meaningless response.
The sound of wild chattering and high-pitched whistles echoed from the darkness all around them as Loki felt his stomach sink, his heart hammering fast in his chest.
He couldn’t abandon him. He knew that intrinsically; he’d never be forgiven if he left him here to be killed, but now his body was aching, and his palms were tingling each time a flicker of magic was pushed through his nerves.
He coughed to clear the dust out of his lungs, pushing back the sweaty hair resting over Steve’s brow, and forced green light to ignite on his fingertips, examining the wound.
Natasha had done her best to break open his skull, but his body seemed to be trying to heal the bone fragments before the skin, leaving him still bleeding, but in much better condition than before.
Still, Loki knew that the amount of blood dripping down his face and leaking to his ear didn’t bode well for a human’s longevity, no matter how enhanced they’d been made to be.
Screeching noises were getting closer, the loud snarls and sharp whistles reverberating through his skull as he tried to think, trying to steady his shaky breathing as he gripped at the rock beside Steve’s head.
They couldn’t be that far from an exit, Loki knew that, but being chased and dragging along the dead weight of a superhuman had blurred over the map in his mind, making it nearly impossible for him to place their position. He glanced down the dark hallway, squinting as he tried to make out any movement, but there was nothing, no telling where any of the delirus were.
Loki wasn’t sure he’d ever felt truly doomed before, but he assumed the feeling digging its anxiety-sharpened claws into his heart was quite similar.
Grunting as he shuffled back into the nook in the wall, he pressed his fingers into Steve’s forehead, one hand supporting his neck to keep him upright. The magic was burning his flesh as it pushed its way out of his skin, but some sense of relief washed through him as it began to mingle with Steve’s skin.
The tears burned behind his eyes, but he pushed the need away as he watched the magic sink into the other man’s skin, ever so slowly healing the gash, stifling the hiss of pain that gathered behind his teeth as his nerves prickled.
Steve groaned quietly, and as he shifted his head, Loki was forced to rip his hand back, his arm shaking as pain radiated along it, and he gripped the rough wall with his other hand in an attempt to stop the burn, swallowing thickly.
He couldn’t do it.
He needed help. He didn’t have any help.
He was alone.
The delirus screeched somewhere in the darkness, sharply drawn-out screams so much closer than before, and he sucked in a breath as silently as he could, pulling Steve’s shield off his arm carefully.
The other man made some noise of pain, but Loki could barely hear it over the chattering of his teeth; why was he so drained? Was it this place, or had he overexerted himself too much over the past few weeks?
Was he just so inferior in his power that he could barely keep it functioning?
He dug his trembling fingers into the leather of the shield’s strap, pulling it onto his arm and crouching closer to Steve’s body to hide them in the nook better. Steve’s head lolled to the side, barely visible eyes slowly blinking, half unseeing, and Loki felt guilt bubble up in his chest.
It wasn’t for the first time, but Loki was beginning to feel as if it might be his last fit of shame before he died.
His palm tingled as he fought to summon up the magic, shakily pulling in large gulps of air, and the dagger materialised in his grip as he set the shield in front of him, leaning back slightly as sweat beaded on his forehead.
If he died here, would anyone ever find him?
That thought, he knew he’d had a hundred times. Through the blurry memories and blue tinted commands that circulated his mind, Loki knew that it’d ambushed him at every opportunity, reassuring him that no one cared enough to even look for him. That just like all lost and discarded things, he would rot from the inside out and become eroded by time, destroyed by all the things he’d found to be unhappy about, and perish as silently as a dying star.
If he died in the darkness, in the silence, would it truly be acknowledged? Would he be remembered for every wrong decision he’d ever made, or would he die a useless, forgotten coward who had gotten what he deserved?
Loki clutched the dagger close to his side and closed his eyes against the tears.
Even if he wasn’t fit for Valhalla anymore, if he ever truly had been, he would die fighting. He knew that, as surely as he knew he deserved a fate like this.
“She was right, you know.”
Steve’s quiet voice was a shock in the sudden and utter silence, the whistles having disappeared, sending his heart pounding with apprehension.
He didn’t ask which ‘she’ the man meant.
He knew.
“You aren’t all bad, Loki. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.”
Loki swallowed over the lump in his throat, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and shook his head, knowing the soldier couldn’t see it.
“You aren’t going to die, Steve.” He said in reply, a sense of surety he didn’t really feel filling the breaths between his words. “Stop saying things you don’t mean. You’ll only regret it later.”
He wanted to bite off his own tongue, but the syllables formed anyway, trite and condescending, but the man only laughed out a broken sigh, the sound slightly wheezy.
“I mean it.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that. It was too honest, too real, final words ripped from a man who supposedly feared nothing, and Loki felt his chest sinking with the realisation of it.
It was all too quiet, just like the crypt. Just like before.
He dug his nails into the leather grip of the shield and let out a shaky breath, his chest excruciatingly tight as his muscles tensed in preparation.
He wasn’t sure what made the thought materialize. Maybe it was hopelessness, or anger from being stuck in this position, or maybe it was just what he wanted to be heard.
The cry for help was silent to the outside world, but Loki did not cease in his apologies even as dread perched on his shoulder and began to weigh him down even further.
Mother. I’m sorry.
Did he want to clear the air, or was he just grasping for straws, for some long-erased comfort, because he was weak and terrified?
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hurt you the way I did. You never deserved that.
Did it even matter? She would never even hear him.
“You will always be my son, Loki. I will see you again.”
Shock thrummed through him just as magic did, and he choked on the heated force of it as the tiredness that had been building behind his eyes vanished instantly.
Steve’s eyes followed him, but Loki was too focused on stifling his own burning coughs as magic flooded his nerves, overwhelming and powerful.
A welcome relief.
Whistling started up again as he forced down the bile stinging at the back of his throat, but instead of hopelessness, strength surged through his limbs, and he clawed at the ground to pull himself back over to the soldier’s body.
It was a risk, he knew that as energy tingled at his fingertips, but even as he winced at the pain of it, he knew it would work.
Green light flew from his hands, fizzling out along the still bleeding wound in Steve’s head, and as he yelled out harshly, chattering echoed through the whistles, signalling the delirus’ descent on their position.
Not that they stood a chance now as the super soldier groaned and dragged himself to his feet, not as he held out a steadying hand to Loki, beckoning for his shield in muffled assurances behind gritted teeth.
Loki pulled himself up, his body aching, his skin stinging, but in place of all his fear, was only rage.
They would make it back to the others. They had to, so he could keep his promise to Raya. To make his mother proud.
“I’m going to need to revisit my beliefs after this.” Steve said as he strapped on the shield to his wrist, wincing as he tightened it around his wrist. “Miracles take on more forms than I’d thought.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Captain.” Loki said sharply, spinning his dagger between his fingers to sit more comfortably. “We haven’t won anything yet.”
A shriek from the hallway, and Loki glanced up to meet the golden eyes of a mangled human, its jaw torn to shreds, drool dripping out of the gaping hole.
Steve moved before he could, lunging at the creature with a lethal amount of force, slamming the side of his shield into its head and forcing it to the rocky ground roughly.
Loki dived out to cover him, dagger raised just in time to skewer a delira in the throat, and as he moved, he could see the mass of them, trudging through the hallway, their expressions wild and hungry, their whistles turning to high pitched screams as they spotted him.
There were far too many, but that didn’t matter. They had to make it out.
The daggers left his fingertips in a constant stream, burying themselves between eyes and in chests, but each delira that fell only seemed to have another three behind it, and even as he ducked to allow Steve’s shield to fly over his head, Loki knew he had no choice but to remember.
He sent a shard of light through the pack on the right, following its flight with panicked eyes, watching as doorway after doorway illuminated itself to him, but the stroke of certainty he was waiting to feel did not come.
Two delira lunged at him, and he stepped to the side, guiding his dagger into one’s throat as the other tore at his stomach, and its bloodstained claws raked across his armour as he spun out of the way.
He hadn’t forgotten how to fight; in a strange way, he found himself lost to memories of Raya’s fists, the strength behind her kicks, the swiftness of her feet, and each swipe of his blade across an enemy throat posed far less of challenge than fighting her ever had.
Perhaps, she had made him stronger.
Blood splattered over his hands as he drove daggers through human skin, but the frenzied slaughter was fuelled by righteousness in place of senselessness, in place of a body moved by as a pawn, of a mind that was not his own.
Every few seconds, he’d be forced to glance back at Steve, to make sure he was okay, that he was surviving, because as the ground above them shook and distant roars thrummed through the dirt, Loki could feel his heart racing, running at a million miles an hour with the burden of his decisions, his realisation.
He knew it. Somehow, despite the awful terror, the weight of uselessness.
He could be good.
*
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
7:55 pm, May 18th, 2012.
The wind was biting. Harsh and hot, even sheltered between the stone pillars and stood at the base of the spike ridden throne.
Raya found she had not missed it. She had never given much thought to how it would feel to leave Cirica, had never even considered the possibility of a clear, blue sky, a bright sun, of cold air.
The sand that whipped across her skin was familiar. Not welcomed, but inevitable.
“Well? Do you have any answers, or are you still too weak to make your own decisions?”
Raya gritted her teeth at the words, at the grating voice, and drove her sword deep into the stone before her, her eyes flicking up to meet the Empress’s yet again.
The pain in her chest, the strange, unfathomable ache, had not yet disappeared, but she didn’t let her face show it; its existence would only do more harm than good.
“I know he is not dead.” Raya said, and for the first time ever, she could hear the uncertainty hidden in the words. “If he were, it would not have been quick. You would have drawn it out to taunt me.”
The Empress’s laughter was high and lilting, edging into sharp pricks and a punch to the gut as her golden eyes glimmered with reluctance admission, and Raya straightened her back even further as she held her gaze.
She could feel her body shaking from the effort of remaining standing, of not dropping to her knees the way she had been taught to do, to not listen to the whispers on the edges of her consciousness telling her to kneel.
She couldn’t. It felt wrong, it felt sick, but she couldn’t.
She had to remain tall. Be ready.
“I forget how well you know me, daughter.” The Empress said in a vicious whisper, her wicked smile perking up as blood ran in rivulets down her impaled arms. “Sometimes. You are only a shadow of me, after all.”
Raya swallowed hard, unwavering in her stance, refusing to drop her eyes, even as distant screams danced through her mind, calling for help, screaming for her.
There were faint blows battering her skin, the wind taking place of another’s fists, reminding her that she was not back here. Not truly, not completely.
This was but another illusion, being used to torture her.
“I am not you.” She said, and the Empress laughed again, the firelight illuminating the anger on her haughty features.
“You were made in my image. You belong to me.”
The sickening chills that ran down her spine were far removed from the weather, and Raya could do nothing but shake her head, the movement so much harder than a simple turn.
“Do you truly think that your little humans will care for you? Take you in, as I did? Care for you, as I did? Reward you as you deserve?”
The Empress raised her head, the sparkling molten gold of her crown glimmering as blood mingled with the metal, shining as it dripped from her skull in steady splatters against the stone.
Her smile of jagged, red stained teeth was nothing new, only familiar in its taunting.
“Your life has only ever been mine. You are mine to command, mine to control. My weapon and my child. You have never been meant for anything else.”
The twinge was real, the true burn of a lie igniting the intuition in her heart.
“I am meant for something more.”
It felt like the words were torn from her, but Raya knew, somehow, intrinsically, that it was the truth.
Her mind was whirring, spinning as the sickly-sweet scent of blood and melting flesh washed over her, the blows against her chest getting harder, heavier, the screaming so much louder-
“Raya!”
A flicker, and her mother disappeared, and there was Natasha instead, her fists flying against her armour as she was dragged through the dirt, and with all the strength she could muster, Raya twisted her body and slammed her opponent’s head into the rocks.
Then, as if it were a fleeting memory, she was back in the throne room, sharing space with her mother’s condescension, and there was something hidden in the blue eyes she knew far better than her own.
The Empress was not angry. She was not upset, or murderous, or mocking.
For half a second, all her eyes revealed, was that she was afraid.
Raya loosened her grip on her sword, letting it stand buried in the stone, and she lifted her head, searching that harshly lined face for more signs of weakness.
“Why did you bring me here? To lie and provoke me with useless words, or is there a reason?” She said, her tone even, her words calm despite the anger bubbling beneath her skin. “You are too cowardly to fight, that I know. So, what is it?”
The Empress was no longer laughing, her expression fading into something far more serious, and Raya raised her chin to her in defiance, swallowing the thrill of fear that shot through her at the act.
“I do not need to lie to provoke you.” The Empress spat, her voice like acidic, and Raya forced herself to stop the impulse of shielding her face. “You are weak enough, confused by all this mortal chatter. They have you believing their lies, turning your back on the truths of our life.”
“The truth of our life.”
She remembered those words.
There was a crowd, gathered and screaming for her. They were raising their hands, magic and swords glimmering in the air as they chanted for…
Freedom.
They were the sons and daughters. The children of Dysnomia. The lawless ones.
The rebels.
Raya took a step towards the Empress, watching as she bristled slightly, sitting up straighter in her throne, her mind racing.
Who were those people? They wanted her, were heralding her as some hero, not like what she remembered. They did not look scared of her, did not shy away from her. They did not fear her.
“What truth is there here?” She asked quietly, and the Empress met her gaze with a harsh expression, something like fear edging out from beneath the mask. “My mind tears at me; fighting to recall one thing, before it is glossed over by another. What truths are there that you have not manufactured yourself?”
The Empress’s eyes were shadowed, but the moment Raya stepped onto the first of six steps to the throne, her face contorted in pain, golden light bursting out of her vine wrapped wrists.
“Do you hear yourself? Have these things made you so pitiful that you cannot fathom your own people anymore?” Her voice was sharp, the words rushing out of her, but Raya simply listened, using all the willpower she could muster to continue her ascent of the stairs. “You are not supposed to think, you are supposed to listen and follow my orders!”
The sixth step passed beneath her feet, and she paused on the edge, staring down at her mother, watching as she writhed ever so slightly, hiding pained winces behind her angry words and burning breaths.
The flames around her flickered brighter as she raised her hand towards her, and Raya could see thoughts flickering behind the Empress’s eyes, memories teasing her, trying to pull her in.
She blinked.
“Why did you try to kill me?”
She wasn’t sure why her voice was so quiet. Didn’t understand the way the syllables twisted in an unfamiliar tone.
Something vulnerable.
“Why, if I was your guard, if I was your executioner, your weapon, did you try to take my life?” The words spilled out in whispers, seeming to echo off the stone around them. “What changed? What did I do?”
Heat rushed into her fingertips, red light extending itself towards the Empress’s throat, and some sense of vindication shot through her as they wrapped themselves around her neck.
The Empress laughed again, her fingers digging into the throne’s armrest as the air strained to leave her, her eyes wet as she struggled.
“You were defective.” She spat, choking on the heat as it tightened around her throat, and the spikes of the vines drove deeper into the bottom of her jaw, sending blood spilling over her chest. “You were not fit for this throne; you were a failure. A vicious, painful little cunt who tried to usurp my place in this castle.”
“When did I ever try to take your place?” Raya cut back, listening to the broken choking sounds falling from her mother’s mouth. “I was only ever-”
“You were a subservient beast, a power I controlled, and then you ruined it by turning my people against me!” The Empress screamed, and Raya winced as the red light whipped back against her chest, disappearing into her skin. “With your own thoughts, influenced by weakness, by those too scared of your power to ever let you feel it! Do you think the mortals are different? That they will let your delusions run free?”
The words stung, but she didn’t know why. Insults, falsehoods, it all ached, was it all the same? Which were the lies? Where was the assurance, the familiar pain to drive in what was correct, what rules to follow?
Which rules made sense anymore?
The light was spilling from her hands before she could even focus on it, and the Empress’s high laughter cut at her as she drove the energy into her chest, moving forwards to tower over the throne.
The crimson was embedding itself between the Empress’s ribs, causing her to glow from within, a volcano filled to its brim with lava, teetering on the edge of eruption, and Raya watched on as it leaked out beneath her skin, a sick twist on absolution flooding her at the sight.
“Your words cannot hurt me.” Raya said quietly, narrowing her eyes as her mother groaned out in pain, numbness creeping through her nerves as she studied her pained expression. “I can hear your lies. You believe none of it.”
There was a split second when the air felt colder, the yells of familiar voices swirling through her mind as her surroundings shifted to the stone pillars of the Colosseum, but then, a hand shot out and grabbed her forearm, yellowing nails digging into her skin.
The Empress was laughing as Raya looked down at her again, the light behind her blue eyes a molten red, her flesh undulating with crimson light, melting and reforming around the spikes impaling her, but as she spoke, her words weren’t pained.
They were poisonous, threaded with venom, tainted with that familiar, insane hilarity, seeming to sear themselves into her mind as her grip tightened even further on her arms.
“But you do.”
The laughter was never-ending, heart rending, disgusting, but as her mother’s body contorted into a grotesque, fluxing mess, the light exploded, and Raya barely had a chance to shield her eyes before everything went dark.
When she blinked, she was kneeling on top of a motionless Natasha, breathing heavily as her blood-stained fists shook in mid-air.
Blood leaked out over the stone behind Natasha’s head, the dent in her forehead leading Raya’s eyes down to her nose, split clean open by the force of her punches. There were bones protruding from her ribcage, and Raya felt the world sway as she watched her cough, blood trickling from between paling lips as she forced small, wheezy breaths through her bruised lungs.
Her hair was no longer blonde. It had returned to its deep auburn colour, no doubt disguising yet more blood in the strands, and Raya could feel her fingers shaking as Natasha’s eyelids fluttered.
Blue irises. Normal. Returned.
Broken.
The guilt was crushing. A sword through her diaphragm, claws buried in her sides, spines poking at her eyes.
Something large crashed into a pillar to her right, screeching and flashing firelight ripping her from her confusing dissociation, and the world snapped back into focus, heat and noise and tension rushing back into her system instantaneously.
Safety. Get her to safety.
The weight of her mother’s presence was now erased from the air, from Natasha, but as the woman flopped limply into her arms, unable to stand on her own, the harshness of her reality seemed to be clipping her across the face with every breath, every brief tilt of her head.
There was screaming, so much screaming, screeching and heartbeats, swirling, heated breathing, heavy bones and aching muscles, bloody air and dank humidity, a torture chamber of sensations, but Raya didn’t falter as she slung Natasha into her arms.
She ignored the horrible cry that left the woman, ignored the way her body shivered, and her head fell to the side, far too aware of the blood slipping down her bare hands and along her arms, swallowing hard against the burn tugging at her nerves.
Nothing made sense, and everything ached. Her mind was run ragged, racing and slowing in tandem with her uneven heartbeat, and as the world shifted beneath her feet, she felt the ground tremble as thunder rolled through the sky.
Why had her mother pulled her in? Just to hurt Natasha? That seemed pointless, useless, something she could never care about, so why?
Her wings dragged along the ground, razor sharp scales weighed down by the anguish in her muscles, and as she looked up into the air, she saw the Avengers, arrows flying, energy pinging off pillars, lightning dancing across the clouds.
They weren’t enough. Nothing was enough.
She couldn’t scream, and that sluggish regret clung to her skin, pulling her towards the earth as she tightened her hold on the dying woman in her arms.
He wasn’t dead. Loki couldn’t be dead.
Steve couldn’t be dead. But so many humans were dead. Their souls stuck in the air, clogging up her chest as she let air rip through her lungs, tearing at her heart, fatalities caused by her mistakes, by her distraction.
Distraction.
The ground rocked again, and Raya knew then, as the words of her mother clicked in her mind, as her head turned to see the first wave of broken fingers and mangled arms clawing their way out of the tunnels.
The battle cry left her lips in a perfect scream of practiced determination.
*
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
8:01 pm, May 18th, 2012.
His arm was bleeding.
A delria’s rotted fingernails had scraped down his bicep, torn through the fabric of his clothing, and cut into his skin.
It stung, and the world was spinning wildly.
Loki grunted out a yell as he swiped downwards with his dagger, burying it into a delria’s skull and whipping his golden wrist brace against the face of another, knocking out its decaying teeth.
His chest was tight as he pressed through the fallen bodies, his vision blurring over slightly as he cast his gaze over to Steve, catching the moment he sliced open an enemy’s chest with his shield.
There was a scratch on his cheek. That couldn’t be good. It couldn’t be good.
The world swayed as bile hit the back of his throat, and Loki wiped the stinking blood out of his eyes as he grabbed at the wall unsteadily. The hallway was empty now, only corpses littering the ground, but a soft whistling still filled the air, a death rattle taunting him.
His arm was hurting.
He couldn’t call out, not as the air rushed from between his lips, but he reached out towards Steve silently, only now realising his hand was shaking.
His dagger left his fingertips, sinking into the mangled bodies and disappearing.
Steve’s hand waved in front of his face, and Loki flinched away, but the world was slow, a snail’s pace as heat flushed through his body, burning away at the scrape on his arm.
“Loki!”
Steve’s voice.
Why couldn’t he move?
The vomit came quickly, spilling out over his lips just as Steve’s trembling hands gripped at his shoulders, and Loki felt the sickness shoot from his nose, from his mouth, almost from his eyes, his stomach churning terribly as he was tugged forwards.
Steve’s body was too warm. Far too warm.
The scratch on his face was glowing.
Gold.
The soldier was sweating, drops of it sliding down his forehead, along his cheek, and Loki watched through a haze of pain as Steve’s eyes fluttered yet again, a warning sign.
They needed to get away. The air smelled sweet, thick and choking, and the whistling was piercing his brain, his mouth full of cotton and the remnants of food he hadn’t remembered eating.
His limbs wouldn’t work.
“I know what you want.”
Harsh. Grating. Distinct, and yet unknown.
“I know exactly what you want.”
The damp, dank air was gone.
–
They were cheering.
The crowd was cheering for him.
Green and gold drapes hung down from the Great Hall’s banisters, his colours flying in the wind, and the screams of the people of Asgard were… for him.
Loki looked down at his fingers, finding them adorned with golden rings, seeing his body draped in the finest Asgardian leather, his shoulders heavy with the cape he’d longed to wear.
His mother was there, by his side, her eyes glowing brightly, pride shining in her face.
Thor was the loudest amongst the cheering crowd, standing beside their mother in his most refined dress, clapping and smiling more warmly than Loki had ever seen before. The Einherjar were knelt at his front, their swords laid in their hands, swearing their fealty to him, and then there was Odin, golden garments in disarray, bound in chains, the crown resting in his palms.
Joy like no other. Air so clear he could breathe freely, and everything as it should be.
A Kingdom. A rightful heir. A ceremony for the ages. Worshipped, praised, loved, adored.
The crown touched his head, and Loki had never felt more righteous before in his life.
The clapping was so loud now, filling the space easily, and the people of Asgard cheered as Odin was forced to his knees, his head raised high as his eyes burned with disgust and hatred.
One swipe of an axe, and the light left those eyes.
The cheering only increased as Odin’s decapitated body slumped to the floor, his blood spilling out over the tiles, with citizens rushing up to collect it into their wooden bowls, hurriedly pressing fingers and hands into it to paint over their skin.
His father’s blood was handed to him in a bowl made of silver, and Loki smiled as he raised it over his head and tipped it onto his crown.
The people were chanting now, his name echoing off the walls as he threw up his arms in triumph, and he watched on as they began to brutalize Odin’s body, bitterness swirling through his stomach.
It was what he deserved for keeping him from his throne for so long. The people could see it now, that he was their rightful ruler, that he was the one they could adore, could care for, could love.
Loki turned to face his throne, and the triumph crashed into confusion, breaking through into horror.
Raya was kneeling on all fours beside his throne. Her mouth was clamped shut by a muzzle, golden spikes fusing her jaw together, her eyes empty of all emotion, chains wrapped firmly around her chest, her legs, with handcuffs clamped around her wrists and bolted into the ground.
Her hair was braided with green strands, twirling through the brown curls, and her features were painted with blood, the corners of her eyes lined with crimson, too much of her skin on display.
Her skin.
Through the chains, there was nothing. Only the metal.
Wrong.
“Sweetheart.”
Frigga’s voice cut through the cheering, the sound fading out as she grabbed his arm and forced him to look away from Raya.
“What are you worrying about? Today is your day.” She said, her smile too wide, her voice too shrill. “You are our King. You are our saviour.”
Loki blinked, and there were bodies beneath him, laid out in piles.
Frigga’s fingers snapped, and the ground was simply golden again.
Loki stepped back away from Frigga, unsure why his heart was pounding so hard. It didn’t make sense. Her eyes were too bright. The people were still cheering, but now, there was a note of something more panicked.
Screaming. Someone was screaming.
Loki tore off the cape around his shoulders, turning back towards Raya, and the moment he turned away from the crowd, the entire room went silent.
Loki forced himself to keep his eyes on Raya’s face, to not turn and see whatever was making his skin crawl, his stomach flip, as he threw his cape over her body, shielding it from the people.
“I don’t want you like this.” He said, but Raya’s expression didn’t change, and his voice sounded weak to his own ears. “Who put you like this? Who did this to you?”
It was sick. His stomach rolled at the dead stare Raya gave him, at the way her heaving shoulders shook as she breathed in, at the scars that littered her face, that glimmered and danced along parts of her skin he didn’t want to see, that he shouldn’t be able to see.
“You did.” Frigga’s voice came again, but it was too deep, too heavy. “You did this. You wanted this. All of this.”
Wrong.
“No.” He said, his throat burning as his eyes flicked between Raya and his mother. “No, I never wanted… I don’t want this, I never wanted-”
“You want control, don’t you? You want power?” The voice was no longer his mother’s. “Now, you have it all. You have the people, the palace. You have your alveus.”
He didn’t want this.
Loki looked up, and the chill of certainty that shot through him only amplified the sickness roiling through his body.
The woman was tall, her amber eyes flickering blue as she tilted her head at him, her sharp toothed smile framed by bloodstained blonde hair as she ran her hands down the front of his mother’s dress.
The Empress was here. Here… where was here? Was this his mind? A hallucination, a trick, a trap?
“This isn’t real.”
Loki took a step back, his eyes trained on the Empress’s faltering expression as his hands pressed into the wall of the throne room.
“I don’t want this. This isn’t real. You aren’t real.”
The Empress’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and Loki didn’t continue the conversation, slamming his fist into the stone behind him, his heart hammering as it shattered beneath his fingers.
The world shifted and bowled him over as he tore his way through the wall, darkness enveloping him, screams and cheers threading through his mind as words in familiar voices tore at his consciousness.
Loki landed flat on his stomach, the breath knocked clean out of him as dirt filled his mouth, and he coughed harshly as bright light speared his vision, raising his hand to block his eyes.
Boots hammered against the ground, even and measured as they approached him, and Loki forced himself to his feet between a group of whistling, excited humans, his head aching.
They weren’t looking at him. They weren’t here for him.
Red, white and blue flags waved overhead, and as he irritably pushed to the front of the humans, he could see soldier upon soldier, marching in formation, their guns held formally in their arms, their heads held high.
It was only now that he realised what this crowd was chanting.
“Captain America! Captain America! Captain America!”
Steve.
This was Steve’s hallucination.
Loki knew he wasn’t an expert on the man, but he understood enough to know this wasn’t his dream. Steve Rogers, Earth’s first all mighty hero, wouldn’t want this attention, this worship.
Steve wasn’t him. Steve was simple, just, kind.
Steve was a true human. A worthy human.
He had to get him out of here.
Loki forced his way through the humans, tumbling forwards into what looked like a procession, and caught sight of Steve, smiling and waving happily to the people on either side of the barricades.
He glanced around, further down the walkway, and saw a man with dark hair holding Steve’s shield tightly, the smile on his face bright and beaming. Beside him was a woman in military dress, her lips bright red as she grinned proudly in Steve’s direction, a medal in her perfectly manicured hands.
Steve’s expression, Loki noticed as he looked back at him, was one of utter relief and joy.
Guilt picked at him as he started his awful trek towards the man, trying to ignore how badly it would hurt him to be ripped from this daydream.
It’s not real, he told himself as the humans cheered and the sound of patriotic music swirled up around him. None of it is real.
Those people, whoever they were to the soldier, weren’t real. Nothing about this was real.
That was what he had to tell himself as he ran, passing guards with inhuman faces, turning away from people whose hands clung to him for just a second too long, as he jumped up in front of Steve and grabbed his shoulders hard.
The soldier blinked in surprise, his face somewhat dazed as he tilted his head to the side, and his voice was wheezy as the questions fell from his lips, too reminiscent of his dying breaths.
“Loki? What are you doing? How are you… here?”
Loki shook him once, his heart hammering as the music around them suddenly swelled even louder, trying to drown him out, but he yelled back,
“This isn’t what you want, Steve! You need to wake up!”
Steve’s expression faltered for a brief moment, and Loki dug his fingers more harshly into his arms, swallowing down the regret at the pain in his eyes.
“No…” The soldier murmured, glancing around, and Loki knew he was looking at the two people at the end of the procession. “No, I want this… I want…”
The cheering crowd went silent in an instant.
“Steve. The war is over. We can go home.”
The woman was talking, but Loki could hear that undercurrent of maliciousness, hear that sharp tone that had driven itself into his mind in his own hallucination disguised by the soft accent.
“We made it, Steve. We made it out, its okay.” The man’s voice was stronger than the woman’s and Loki could see the Captain’s joyful expression drain of all its colour as something clicked behind his eyes. “We’re okay. Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know you. I know you.”
Loki could feel the eyes of the two people drilling into his back, but he didn’t dare turn around, keeping his firm grip on Steve’s shoulders as he shook him slightly yet again.
“They aren’t real, Steve.” He said, his tongue feeling leaden in his mouth, but he forced himself to keep talking. “They aren’t here, whoever they are, it’s not really them.”
Steve’s face was ashen now, but resolve was threading through his features, and as his eyes finally snapped back over to meet his own, though tears filled them, they burned with determination.
“Bucky is dead.” The Captain whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he took in a shaky breath. “He’s dead. They’re not… They’re not real.”
Loki nodded hurriedly, feeling the tightness in his chest dissipate with relief as he forced himself to hold Steve’s heartbroken gaze.
“None of this is real. This isn’t real.” He said, unsure whether he was pushing away the horror still searing through him at his own hallucination and pressing it into his words to convince himself or Steve. “You don’t want this.”
Steve’s words were barely a half breath into the now silent air.
“I don’t want this.”
A necessary lie.
The world around them shifted, the people seeming to freeze in their places at Steve’s words, and then the dirt beneath them opened, and sent them flying through complete darkness.
–
Loki gasped as he rolled onto his back, the cooling bodies beneath him causing his grip to be unsteady as he stared up at the trembling ceiling.
His stomach was swirling with sickness as the stench of blood and vomit hit his nose, and he fought to clamber upright, his hands searching in the darkness for Steve, his voice hoarse and his throat dry as he called out.
“Captain! Where are you?”
Steve’s answering groan and half hearted cough was a welcome relief, but Loki still flinched as a hand clamped down on his arm, light immediately igniting from his fingertips.
“Air…” Steve rasped, his blotchy face and red tinged eyes far too close for comfort as he shakily pointed towards the opposite end of the hallway. “I can… feel the air…”
Loki didn’t answer with words, simply found his footing amongst the severed limbs and lifeless corpses, and lifted his hand into the air to illuminate the hallway around them.
Steve hissed as he strapped his shield back over his arm, and Loki only glanced at him to ascertain his capability to continue forwards, receiving a weak thumbs up in return for his efforts.
He didn’t ask if Steve was okay, as they followed the wind now whistling through the tunnel, knowing the answer far too well himself to even bother.
He could feel the blood sticking his armour to his skin, his own and the delirus’ mingling to make a coat of death over his body, but Loki tried to force away the churning in his stomach, focusing solely on the growing sounds of battle from the direction they were stumbling in.
His heart was pounding, his mind was unsettled, but as he tiredly sucked in deep, gulping breaths of the war-torn air and pushed it into his muscles, Loki still fought to keep the hallucination from resurfacing, wiping his hand over the back of his eyes to clear away the pesky burn of dust.
The Empress didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he wanted. Only he could divine what it was, what his heart ached for, what his soul called for.
His purpose would be revealed to him, but with every fibre of his being, Loki knew it never would, and never could be, that vision.
He was better than that.
He had to be better than that.
I will never become him.
*
Rome, Italy.
The Colosseum.
8:08 pm, May 18th, 2012.
Raya sliced her sword through a yowling wall of delirus, groaning as she stood over Natasha’s bleeding body, her heart racing as their blood splattered over her face.
Scales flared out over her skin, spines pricking up along her back and piercing her suit as her tongue flicked out, tasting the air as the world flickered in different shades of crimson.
They were everywhere.
The humans had been overrun, and Raya could hear their screams just barely over the sound of whistling and stuttering gunfire as they were swarmed by the delirus emerging from underground.
The kleviah were swooping down towards her, the other Avengers doing what they could to stop their savage attacks, but Raya could feel her skin prickling as she screamed a challenge up at them, magic glowing around her hands.
She could feel the heat of it crawling up her body, taking her over in constant, unrelenting waves, and she’d known, when the rage had begun to overheat her soul, that she could no longer be in charge of Natasha’s safety.
To touch her, would only hurt her more.
She let out a ragged breath as a klevia dived towards her, her throat burning as she felt fury searing through her blood, her skin prickling as she beat her wings against the ground and met the creature in mid-air.
Its claws clashed against her sword, but she didn’t falter, letting the weapon drop from her hands and angling her body to dip beneath its stomach, catching it easily and burying it deep in the underbelly.
Her wings propelled her forwards, and the beast’s pitchy screech stretched out as she cut through its stomach, driving it in deeper before forcing its body to flip and sending them both crashing to the ground.
The klevia’s scales were curling in on themselves as her body came into contact with flesh, its pained, fiery exhale dying as she ripped the sword out of its skin, her heart too fast, adrenaline igniting her every sense with a rabid sense of urgency.
She spun around on top the of the bloated carcass just in time to deflect another klevia’s fire, letting it wash over her and sink into her skin as she raised her sword and sliced clean through the oncoming wing.
The animal crashed into the mud, writhing and panicking, and Raya watched on as Hulk’s fist crushed its skull with a swift finality, his roars echoing the small sense of victory flickering to life in her chest.
The sounds of Tony’s thrusters activating again and again met her ears, and she tapped her earpiece as she rolled to the ground, making her way back to Natasha’s side, trying to make sense of his incoherent ramblings.
“Power lowered to 37% percent, sir. An advisory is to-”
“Cease use of powered units and divert to generators, I know, Jarvis, release flares!”
The sky exploded into bright lights, and Raya squinted as she caught sight of a red-gold flash disappearing into the clouds, no longer being followed by the kleviah tailing him.
Arrows threaded through the air and sunk themselves into wailing delirus, blowing them into hundreds of pieces, but they were becoming slower, fewer and far between as Clint no doubt ran low.
Thor flew past, his hammer stained with blood as his torn cape blew out behind him, spinning through the air as a klevia followed right behind him, and the sight of the panic on his sweat beaded face sent a rush of reality through her.
This wouldn’t be enough.
It felt like a gut punch, even as she gritted her teeth and leapt up into the air, grabbing the offending creature’s tail, and catching it mid snap of its slobbering jaws, letting her sword clatter to the ground as she dug her claws into its flesh.
The creature squealed, and Raya screamed back as her muscles strained, putting all her effort into throwing its body hard to the ground, using its thrashing body as her release, as the tool to expunge her anger.
It didn’t work, as she tore its tail off its body. It didn’t stop, as her magic rushed out of her and crept into its mouth, down its throat, picking at its eyes as she ravaged its chest with her hands, her wings burying themselves into its skin to anchor her position.
Her hands closed around its heart, and as she tore it out, blood flying all over her as she crushed the organ in her hands, she realised that her eyes were itching, aching, burning.
It wasn’t enough, there were too many, and she was weak, her mind racing too much, far too much, when there should only be the kill, only be the death, the-
“Rogers and Loki coming out of the tunnels!”
Her chest collapsed in on itself.
Raya whipped around, her wings flying out in disarray as she tried to blink her eyes clear of useless tears, and something in her body broke open as she caught sight of Loki’s stumbling form, Steve inches behind him, both bloody, both weary, but both very clearly alive.
Her legs shook beneath her as she picked up her sword, sheathing it at her side before gently scooping up a mumbling Natasha into her arms, breathing through the lump building in her throat.
There was no feeling like this. There had never been a feeling like this. Never, never with a description or an explanation.
It didn’t exist, and yet it was here, filling her body, breaking into her soul, swallowing her whole as she pushed herself towards the two men, air catching in her chest.
She was in front of them, her body crying out for something she didn’t know how to give, her mind reeling and shrieking, and Loki’s hand was on his side, his fingers bloody, and his eyes were on hers, burrowing behind her irises, digging into her thoughts-
“Raya.”
Her name had never been said like that before. With that breathlessness, or that echoing emotion she didn’t understand, with that relief or that sincerity.
She didn’t get a chance to answer, not as Thor’s body hit the ground, sending it shuddering beneath them, not as Tony’s suit jolted her from her confusing reverie.
Clint appeared, she didn’t know how or from where, but then he was coaxing Natasha from her arms, avoiding her ungloved hands, and Raya couldn’t breathe as she looked up at the lights exploding high above them, dancing through the storm clouds.
A distraction.
Distraction.
The word echoed through her head as she felt the rain sizzle off her skin, as the Avengers were strategizing around her, as Tony reassured them that the next move needed to be the living, because all the eggs had been destroyed.
Destroyed.
Green eyes were on her, their stare hard and calculating.
Worried.
It all made sense, in that moment of burning clarity.
There were so many more layers to this. To Tethys, to the delirus, to the Empress.
This was her fault.
Earth was prey, and she had become its predator.
The dead humans were her fault. This panic was her fault. Her very existence was their threat.
The kleviah weren’t a punishment for the humans, they never had been. They had always been for her, a virus sent to wipe out humanity’s biggest threat, to eradicate a foreign body from the warmth of its core.
She never should’ve let them become involved in this. In her war. Her battles.
The humans argued, they planned and plotted, but, as she looked up at the sky, at the circling kleviah, then down at the dying horde of delirus, all laid out in squirming piles of desecration, she knew.
Her end was their beginning. It was clear, the way out, the way to protect everything that hadn’t already been lost, to keep what could be conserved.
It made sense now, that she had always, always known, since the first moment she had fallen to Earth.
She had to give in. To become the fatality her mother so wanted her to be, to protect this place, these people, this life of individuality and freedom and hope.
She couldn’t feel these feelings and live. Couldn’t live with this aching regret, and this strange warmth, that awful heartache she didn’t know how to explain.
Emotion deserved death. She was a broken soldier. A failure to her mission.
She was the infection, and humanity deserved to be cleansed of its illness.
The final act of cleansing had to be taken by her.
What she had broken, she would fix.
The sacrifice was the only way to truly win.
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