#danceofthespheres

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter Eight: Saturnian Salsa

Chapters: 8/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: kidnapping, forced marriage, death mention, mild body horror, mild violence

Characters: Loki(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary: 

Cause you're a sky

Cause you're a sky full of stars

I'm gonna give you my heart

                                          Coldplay-Sky Full of Stars

You could move.

You hadn't really expected to actually wake up again. When the indescribable pain had finally subsided, and you'd fallen asleep in Loki's arms, you'd thought you were dying. You'd hoped you were dying, not knowing what horrific existence you would wake up to. You felt...fine.

A little sore and stiff, as if you had gone to the gym the day before, but otherwise fine. There was no other trace of the torment you had suffered. Loki was not there. Eir was not there. The strange machine was not there. Your bed-your temporary bed-was rumpled from being slept in, not the torn apart ruin you would have expected from all your tortured writhing.

Could it all have been a dream?

Groggy and disoriented, you swung your leg over the side, finding a single soft slipper for your remaining foot, and yourself still wrapped in the voluminous robe Loki had provided for you. There was still no leg or cane for you, so you tried hopping along the wall instead.

The floor, highly polished stone in decorative patterns, was too slick; your slippered foot threatened to slide right out from under you. Irritated, you sat down on the floor and began to scoot yourself along instead. It was embarrassing, but much better than falling, and cracking your skull open on the unyielding stone. Between the slipperiness of the floor, and the softness of the robe, you managed to cover a good distance, heading to your-the-bathroom area in search of water. The dryness of the air was making your throat sore.

It was easier to stand up in the bathroom. There were many more things to hold on to, and the floor was purposefully rough, precisely to keep you from falling. You managed to drag yourself to the sink, an indent carved into a stone counter, with a stone block placed right in front of it to make a stool.

You sat down in front of the mirror, which you had initially thought was made of metal, but on close inspection was finely polished stone. You recognized some little pale splotches along the lower edge that reminded you of snowflake obsidian. Was this whole thing an enormous slab of obsidian? Wherever Asgard was, it was clearly located in a place that was, or had once been, volcanic. You didn't know all that much about gemstones, but you were pretty sure that some of the flashy minerals embedded in the walls must be Labradorite. The yellow-green crystals in black matrix reminded you of the chunks of Olivine that got blown out in eruptions. It was slightly chilly here all the time, and the air was always dry. If only you knew more about geography, you might be able to guess where on Earth you were!

Your best guess was some kind of cold, volcanic desert. Probably an island where Asgard wouldn't be constantly disturbed by an endless flow of humans. An island close to Antarctica perhaps. That would keep away most of the tourists. As far as you understood, there were uninhabited islands that were closer to Antarctica than they were to anything else, yet not so close as to be frozen over all the time.

You fiddled with the faucet, unfamiliar with Asgardian household technology, until a small trickle of water flowed, and thirstily slurped up handfuls of it. As before it tasted sterile, and was very cold.

You were scooting back to your room when you heard the soft knocking on your door, and quickly scuttled, your hands fwap-fwapping on the hard floor, to the carved stone couch in the main room. “Uh, come in!” you called, getting arranged on the couch. The door opened and the two kids, Bjarkhilde and Andvarri, peeked in. “We have brought you some things, your highness.” Andvarri announced. They entered, Andvarri setting his cylindrical basket down before you, and withdrawing your prosthetic leg. “We got all the measurements we needed.” he said, handing it over to you reverently. “We should be able to get a new one made swiftly. I believe our design will not only be more lightweight, but more durable as well.” “Do your people make a lot of prosthetics?” you asked. “A fair amount.” he answered. “Our warriors are fierce and fearless, but accidents happen. So our technology in this area is fairly advanced.” “That's also why our medical knowledge is of such renown as well.” Bjarkhilde interjected. You did not allow her to help you attach your leg, but you did let her watch to see how it was done. “We also located this.” Andvarri handed you a solid cane, made of knotted, twisting wood. “Someone brought it with them, but, ah, doesn't need it anymore. It might be useful until we can get a proper one made for you. It was a touch too long for you, but far better than nothing. “Do either of you know where Loki, er, Prince Loki is?” Both shook their heads.

“Okay, thank you.” Good. You might be able to look around on your own. Once they'd left, you crept out from behind the heavy redwood door, and down the vaulted hall. Sneaking was out of the question. Your cane and leg thudded loud on the stone floor, and you stood out among the Asgardians with your slightly shorter stature and lack of grace. It seemed as though everyone in the palace complex knew who you were; they got out of your path and bowed their heads as you passed. There was also somebody following you, you were absolutely certain. Whatever. You weren't breaking any laws. At least, you were pretty sure you weren't. You didn't actually know what laws Asgard had, but you didn't think 'walking around' was against any of them. It felt like hours before you found your way to the main courtyard, with the conjoined balcony, and all the guards in their yellow capes, and you weren't sure you'd be able to find your way back through that labyrinth of near identical halls. If you had to, you could surely ask one of those fine young Asgardians for help. Everyone was being awfully polite. The gates of the palace were black iron bars, set with plates of stone like heraldic shields. They were tall, beautiful, and impressive, and absolutely not going to open for you. You weren't even sure you were strong enough to push them. But there was a little guardhouse just next to them that led outside, and the guard inside had also apparently been told who you were, because he let you through with only minimal protest. Your first few steps outside the palace were eye-opening. Looking back, you could see that the palace was built into the side of a cliff, its sides dropping off dozens of feet in a gentle curve towards the ground, and a wide ramp had been built, or carved, leading safely down. From this vantage point, you could see out over the city. The closer to the palace, the more developed the buildings were, the more lights, the more people, and the farther out, the less so. Of course, everything, near or far, was made of stone. There were intricately carved, important looking buildings, as stately as the Parthenon, and wide open spaces, presumably where parks or stadiums would go. There was not a single green, growing thing anywhere in your vision, though you could see places where they were planned to be; stone troughs, basins, and window boxes carved right into the buildings themselves. This city was being planned for generations to come. You didn't know exactly how many Asgardian refugees had made it to Earth, but they all needed to fit on a single spaceship, so you were sure it could have only been a few thousand at the very most. There was more space here than would be needed for such a small number. Perhaps they were expecting a population boom rather soon? Most impressive to you were the great pillars that rose in multiple spots across the city. They were as big around as skyscrapers, and studded with lights that you only recognized as being windows once you noticed figures moving behind them. Up, and up they reached, until merging with the stone ceiling, an elegant solution to both housing, and support. The great stone shelf that sheltered the palace extended out here, covering the entire city and beyond with a roof that soared thousands of feet overhead. You craned your neck in awe at the sight. This must be why no one had been able to locate Asgard. The entire city had been built underground! Lights swirled all around the ceiling, large and small, brightening the entire cavern, and spires of crystal protruded downward, refracting light, possibly from the surface. This was an incredible achievement, more magical than anything you had seen so far. It should be impossible, but the Asgardians had managed it. You didn't actually know much about the Asgardians; no one did except maybe the Avengers. Otherwise, no one knew much about their capabilities, their technology or knowledge. Was this normal for them? Had they always lived underground? You made your way down the ramp and out onto the main street. It was wide and flat, dark as asphalt, though smooth and very clean. The sidewalks were also smooth, appearing to have been simply carved into place, like the bases of most of the buildings. Perhaps they were carved, right out of the living rock of the great cavern's floor. From down here, the palace looked like nothing more than a huge gate in the side of a cliff, but the housing pillars were even more impressive. The incredible height of the cave ceiling made the city seem more airy and open than the actual open air city you lived in. As you watched, more lights sparked to life in the high ceiling, and you realized that there were people up there, crawling about, working. You stopped to watch, amazed, until someone coming down the street with a wagon full of stone accidentally tapped you, and sent you sprawling on your rear. She stopped to help you up, acting rather contrite, especially when she noticed your leg. “Please pardon me, Warrior.” she apologized. “This old thing always pulls to the right. I do not recognize you. Are you a human? I did not know we were hosting any, though I suppose it does make sense. Provisional King Loki is to be married soon. It will be a lucky woman, who is sent to be his bride.” “Is...is that so?” you asked, following along beside the woman, as she carted her load of stone. “I'm afraid humanity doesn't know all that much about Loki. You speak highly of him. Do you know him well?” “Well...we've never formally met. But I was there, on the bridge when he came to save us all, and I fought by his side. He is very valiant. The way he defied everything to avenge the Allmother, and guided us to prosperity in secret, so that we would not despair at the loss of the Allfather. The way he fooled that pompous warlord. His magic is so grand. Ha, I might be a bit envious of that human, whoever she may be. Some soft princess, perhaps. I hear humans of the ruling class tend to be simply rich, rather than warriors now.” “You aren't wrong about that.” you said. “Average people have to fight almost everyday, just for survival. Yet somehow, we let those who got their wealth by squeezing the iron out of our blood rule over us as well.” Just as you were wondering if that had been too dramatic, the woman nodded slowly. “Yes. Well, perhaps Asgard can teach by example, once we've built ourselves back up. We've got a good headstart. This worlds particular properties makes building fairly easy. It's survival that is particularly challenging. Still, I like this challenge. Most of us do. Facing and overcoming it has made me proud so far, and it is much, much better than being dead. Valhalla may await, but it can wait longer for me. Ah, this is my stop.” She wheeled her wagon up to the sidewalk next to a half finished building, crawling with people. Several of them disengaged to retrieve the stone, and send her back on her way to gather another load. “Do you get it from the surface?” You asked. “Not this stuff. This comes from a quarry on the far side of the caverns. The facades usually come from up top, there's mountains of crystal up there.” “Which way might I go to reach 'up there'?” you asked. This could be your chance. You could at least find out which way to go at a later date. “Didn't you come in that way?” she asked. “I'm kind of disoriented. I got super lost.” “Ha, I don't blame you. Humans don't live underground, do they? We didn't either, but this is actually not too bad. Especially since the surface is not exactly ideal. Yet, anyway. Given time, we can do something with it. Gathering up enough water, I think, will do the trick. There's no rivers or ponds or anything, just ice. We have to gather it by hand, since it never flows. Anyway, the main entrance is up this street, a long way.” That narrowed down the places Asgard could be to a pretty short list. There were only a few places you knew of which were perpetually frozen. You were either in Greenland, Svalbard, the northernmost parts of Siberia, or Antarctica. Your money was still on Antarctica, since you knew there was a pretty large part of it that was unclaimed. That did make you wonder what the Asgardians thought they were going to do to make the surface livable. Antarctica was Antarctica, they couldn't just scoop the snow off and shoo the penguins away to plant a garden. It was more complicated than that.

Then again, what you considered livable, and what Asgardians considered livable might be very different things. You'd have to rethink. Though you could just see the tunnel that must be the exit, you couldn't simply walk outside and wander away. Not if you were in Antarctica. You would need special clothes, and to find out where the nearest scientific station was. If there even was one close enough. No wonder it had seemed so cold and dry since you'd been here. All of the places on your short list were frozen deserts, just as you had suspected! You made your way up the street, giving everyone else a wide berth so you didn't get knocked into again. The woman hadn't been kidding; it was quite a long way to go. This cavern was huge, after all, and you wondered if it was natural, or if the Asgardians had dug it out themselves. The tunnel slopped gently upward, much busier with the coming and going than the other streets had been, but it was unmistakably sunlight that brightened it. This was definitely a way to the surface. Many of the people coming back down into the cavern were wearing a specific uniform, like an alien hazmat suit. They were thick, and bulky, with a large, bubble helmet reminiscent of something a vintage astronaut would wear. They must be how the Asgardians were dealing with the cold outside! If you could get your hands on one of them... A hand grasped your arm, very gently, and you jerked in surprise. It was a big woman, in a guard's uniform. “My lady.” she said. “The surface is not suitable for you just yet. Please return to the palace with me.” This must be the person who had been following you. On looking at her, you weren't sure how she had gone unnoticed. The woman was at least six feet tall, wearing brassy armor and a bright yellow cloak. “Are you assigned to keep me in line?” you asked. She certainly looked like she could do it! “My name is Bergljot. I am simply supposed to see to your well-being. Please come back with me.” “Yeah...Okay.” It wasn't a good time to argue with this refrigerator box of a woman, so you allowed her to escort you back to your room. It was all right to be sequestered away from everything for now. You'd already gotten a few new pieces of the puzzle.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[therealityhelix]

Dance of the Spheres 6

Meteoric Mambo

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader #heimdall (Marvel)

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter Seven: Jovian Jive

Chapters: 6/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: kidnapping, forced marriage, death mention, mild body horror, mild violence

Characters: Loki(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary: 

Here I am floating ‘round my tin can

Far above the moon

Planet Earth is blue

And there’s nothing I can do

'Jad' was the name Heimdall had given the man. Loki, invisible, let himself into his hotel room; a cheap and filthy place, stinking of cigarette smoke, urine, body odor, and mold. The same lack of care on the part of hotel staff also seemed to extend to whether their guests were armed with deadly weapons, as, the moment Loki revealed his presence, Jad put three bullets in his chest.

All three were stopped by his armor, and he hadn't even flinched, anticipating that something like this might happen. Instead, he just stood there, glaring at the frightened man, who stared back, gun in shaking hand. “So...Do you think anyone will come investigate the noise?” Loki asked. “No.” Jad said, lowering his weapon. “That's the whole point of staying here.” “Fine. Do you know why I'm here?” Jad snorted in derision, drawing a darker glare from Loki. “Fuck if I know. The woman didn't taste good? Not enough meat on the fucked up leg?” “Watch your tongue.” Loki snapped. “I can pull it from your mouth with ease, you know. That may still happen, if I don't get the answers I want.” “Better get it over with quick then, because I don't know jack shit.” Jad challenged. “Why did you bring me that woman?” “Because you demanded one.” “That woman, specifically.” “Because my supervisor told me to.” “Who is your supervisor?” “Don't know.” Loki's face scrunched up in consternation. “How do you not know who you're working for?” “Nature of the job. No one knows anyone else's real name, all communication comes via specialized channels.” “Do you work for your government?” “Yep.” “Your government told you to kidnap and bring to me that specific woman?” “Essentially.” “And you are telling me all this willingly.” Jad shrugged. “Have I told you anything you didn't already know?” Loki scoffed. But Jad was correct, Loki had already surmised all of this. All Jad had given him was confirmation. “Why is your partner dead?” Finally, Jad began looking uncomfortable. “How do you know about that?” “I often find myself with information that others would rather I didn't have. Did you kill him?” “No. He killed himself.” There was just the slightest hesitation, the barest hint of guilt in his voice. The taste of a lie. “Killed himself using your hand? Why did you have only three bullets for me? Were I to go out into the desert and dig him up, would I find the others?” “It doesn't matter. You can't prove anything, and even if you could, I would disappear from the court system in an hour.” A soft spark of manic malice had entered Jad's eyes. His mouth drew into a contemptuous sneer.

“He questioned. He lacked commitment. You can't do this job if you aren't committed.” “What is your job? Why is it worth murdering your partner just for questioning?” “Anything I'm told. Anything that's needed to bring this nation out of degeneracy, and put it back at the top. Anything that's needed in order to keep it there. If that means quelling any and all dissent, then so be it. If that means consorting with you aliens, so be it. If that means culling a compromised agent, then so be it.” The fervor of zealotry grew as the man spoke, until he was shaking his fist at Loki, who sneered back. “Yes, I can see you really should be 'committed'.” Jad snorted. “You got your sacrifice, what more do you want? We held up our end of the bargain. We did what had to be done.” “And that order came from your government. Well. That means I can be done with you.” Just as no one saw Loki enter the hotel, no one saw him leave it either, save perhaps, for Heimdall.                                                                         ******

Nor did anyone see him enter Tony Stark's private home, which almost got him shot with something that was much more likely to hurt him. Staring down the automated armor suit and its myriad of weaponry, he waited until the actual Tony Stark got on to the intercom and demanded to know his business. Loki held up a phone, so that the automated armor's sensors could look it over. “Call it a favor to the Crown, and think twice before you blast me out of the building. Neither of us want the people watching this house to know that I'm here. Oh, what is it all your ridiculous alien invasion movies say? 'I come in peace'? I do.” “Whatever. Come downstairs. If I see a weapon, I'm flattening you, I don't care what Big Brother Sky Daddy says.” Loki smiled thinly and found his way to the stairs. Some things never changed. It was slightly comforting. He found Stark in the first basement-Loki was certain the visible portion of the building was merely the top of a massive underground complex-lounging on a couch that was as forgettable as a brick. It was one of the things Loki found incomprehensible about humans: the wealthiest among them had recently given up any semblance of opulence in favor of the boring and generic. They paid the same high prices for their belongings, yet had stripped them of the artistry that drove those prices up in the first place.

Baffling. But it wasn't Loki's fault nobody here had any taste.

There were two small glasses of crystal clear alcohol on the coffee table between them. Loki took that for the peace offering that it was, and knocked the entire glass back in one gulp. It barely burned on its way down. Midgardian alcohol had little effect on his alien body; they simply didn't have the distillation techniques to create a drink powerful enough to intoxicate him. “So, to what do I owe this honor?” Stark asked. “What do you want, Grendel? Did anybody see you?” Loki scowled at the nickname. “Not unless they detected me after I entered your abode.” “No way. Not possible. I've got this place soundproofed, x-rayproofed, infraredproofed, everythingproofed. No one gets any info on anything that goes on in here.” The scowl turned into a smirk. “I knew I could count on your paranoia, Stark.” “Yeah, it's the one constant in this world; I don't trust any of you.” “Does that include your unstoppable Avengers?”

Stark scoffed.

“I trust them even less. You know the Avengers don't exist anymore.”

“As a regulated government entity, no. As a vigilante body, dedicated to the defense of the planet...Who knows?” “I just told you it's not a thing anymore. Now why did you really come here, huh? Wasn't just to catch up with one of the guys who kicked your ass.” The scowl returned. Loki held out the phone he'd shown to the sentinel. “I need to know if it is possible to retrieve deleted electric correspondences off of this device.” “Yeah, of course I ca-is that blood?” Loki wiped the little smear away with his thumb. “No.” he said, Stark eyeing him with undisguised disbelief. “Are you sure you want to know?” “No, you're right, I don't want to know at all. You need what? Texts? Voice mails? Emails?” “Yes, all of those. Any communication that can be recovered, going back six months.”

Six months ago, he had sent that royal document, offering better trade deals, a research station specifically for humans to observe how Asgardians turned wasteland into prosperity, possible negotiations for exclusive contracts even. All he had asked in exchange was a royal wife to seal the deal. A standard arrangement he knew for a fact that Midgardians were familiar with. Perhaps he should have set aside some of the traditional pomp and dictated it in English, rather than an ancient language. But it was his future, and it was important to make an impression, so he had pulled out all the whistles and bells. He had given them half a year to translate and make their decision, after all. Stark took the phone and examined it, rolling his eyes hard at what he saw. “Most technologically advanced nation in the world, and they still use hacker-bait tech like this. Gimmie an hour or so, I'll have everything down to their dentists' names. Within minutes, he had he phone hooked up to several devices, and was working away at it. Loki noticed that the man had random tech sitting around and secreted away on his person like Loki had knives. “So, how's Thunderbird doing, anyway?” Stark asked as he worked. “Still asleep?” “Unfortunately, yes.” Loki replied. “He actually spent the last half-light year here powering the ship himself. It exhausted him fully, but unfortunately, there hadn't exactly been time to fill the fuel source up before we left. The rulers of Asgard have a special sort of bestowment upon them. It allows them to overstretch themselves like that, but at the cost of entering this restorative sleep. Unfortunately, since this is the first time this has happened to Thor, we do not know what the nature of his sleeps will be like. No idea how long this will last.” “So, how about that Tesseract?” He asked. “What happened to it, after Asgard went up?” “I'm afraid I don't know.” Loki said. “You've got it, don't you?” “Of course not.” he lied. “I was busy running from a fire giant.” “You've totally got it. Why didn't you use it to help your ship get here? Maybe hoping big bro would burn himself out enough to sleep for a few centuries, get yourself firmly in control of a shiny new Asgard?” Loki scoffed. “Fool. If I were taking that route, I'd have stabbed him in his sleep already. No, that's not what I'm after. And this would be a terrible time for a coup anyway. Why steal a kingdom when it is at its weakest? Its poorest? Its most vulnerable? Who wants to be king when the kingdom is at its worst? No, we'll have to enter into a new golden age before I even deign to think of slitting his throat in his sleep again.” “I'm joking.” he said, catching Stark eyeing him suspiciously. “That's not really what I'm after. I didn't use the Tesseract because I didn't want to alert anyone as to where we were. We have enemies that would gladly bury Asgard entirely, you know. And power that great can act like a beacon. You're an idiot for allowing that synthetic to walk around, using the Mind Stone's power as he pleases. He'll have every warlord in the galaxy down on your heads.” “Hey, I don't 'let' Vis do anything. He's his own person, he makes his own decisions.” “Weren't you enforcing a law that went against that very thought just recently?” Loki prodded. “Sokovia Accords, was it? Didn't it tear your little party asunder?” “That wasn't my fault!” Stark insisted. “They all made their own choices.” “As did you. So, with this dissolution of the Avengers, and the loss of S.H.I.E.L.D. to infiltrators, how is the state of Earths defenses these days? I hear you pet beast has disappeared. In such disarray, how will you defend yourselves?” Tony was glaring at him now. “Is Asgard planning on invading? Maybe while Thor sleeps? Jump start that new golden age?” “Not at all. Asgard faces its own challenges currently. However, if we but had the money and supplies, we could build reconnaissance systems throughout this star system, defense satellites, early warning systems that would let both you and us know when something was coming. Because something will be coming.” “And you want me to fund this, is that it?” “I want you to think about the possible benefits. You know that the wasteland we build upon, is not truly waste. You know the mineral wealth now available to us. We just need a market. It could be you. It could be someone else. I extend the offer to you first, since you are a friend.” Tony snorted derisively. “A friend of the Crown.” Loki amended. “You are at least that, are you not?” “Guess I am. I wouldn't be cracking a government phone if I wasn't.” “You trust them even less than I do.” Loki observed. “Yeah. Well. They've given me plenty of reasons.” “Ooh, do tell.” “No.” Stark said. Loki snickered. He already knew some of it. Mostly it revolved around a faithless, uncaring government that existed only to consume. A bloated miasma of broken promises, lies, and ravenous hunger that sucked its land and people dry, leaving hopeless, slowly dying shells behind. An insatiable force that reached its devouring arms into other countries, bleeding them out, swallowing everything, even the simplest joy.

Loki had seen it on his last excursion here. It was the only thing Thanos had been right about. The Earth was a cesspit of feuding hungers, each more insignificant than the last. The planet was sorely in need of a good restructuring. But not in the Titans image. It was just as short sighted and wasteful, if not more. Stark finished his work, setting the phone down on the table and disconnecting his little devices. “Here. Everything restored, like they'd never been deleted. I'll never get over how lax they are with this.” “Thank you for your time.” Loki said, retrieving the phone. “I'll take this into consideration when I conquer this world. Joking.” he added, at the questioning glare. “Sure. Don't you have somewhere else to be now? I need to sleep.” “You sleep?” Loki teased. “Beat it!”                                                                 ******

Disguised as a simple student, Loki tapped away at the library computer, cross-referencing things he'd found on the phone, writing notes. Already, he had found some troubling things; code words and references that matched up with the HYDRA info dump, and details about you and your life. He'd found you online, your social media and your arrest record, both of which appeared to have been doctored. Curiously, your social media accounts had posts from the past day, time in which he knew you had not had access. The posts were unusual; Denouncing your previous organizations, callout posts for the leaders therein, remorse over your arrest record, even suicidal thoughts. Though he had only known you for a short time, you had given a strong impression, and this didn't seem like you. It seemed others agreed; in your comments were multiple people claiming your accounts must have been hacked. It drove home even further the sheer strangeness of your coming. No one seemed to realize you had left. Why hadn't it been announced? Even if it couldn't be revealed that he was still alive, the marriage of a human to a high-ranking Asgardian surely would make the news! But no one knew. You hadn't even known. It made no sense! They had thrown you at him like refuse! Why? From what he had learned about the HYDRA organization, if they were involved and it wasn't just coincidence, they were quite good at currying favor. They infiltrated other organizations, roped people in, racked up favors, made themselves indispensable. If they had wormed their way back in to your government, why would they give such an insult to a powerful potential ally? Or perhaps, they were working against your government. Offending Asgard on behalf of your leaders, making them look like bad partners. It seemed more and more likely that someone was trying to pull a fast one on him. But to what end, exactly? In which direction did he need to push back? Loki was practiced in the use of multiple alien technologies, but Midgards clunky, obtuse programming was often so primitive that it was actually hard to use, and he was unfamiliar with some of the terminology. It took him embarrassingly long to figure out what zip files were, or how to open them, but once he did, he had answers.

Gut churning answers.

There was a picture of you, which included your full name, birth date, height, approximate weight, eye color, social security number, address, work address, and the names and addresses of your parents, and several of your friends. There were also some bits of personal information, such as how you lost your leg in a car accident when you were still very young, and that you were estranged from your parents, apparently over your activism.

There was your arrest record, including the name of the officer who arrested you-the one who beat you-and Loki took careful note of that name.

There was a scan of the royal letter he had sent, written in golden ink on purple linen paper, a resplendent work of art that used some of the very last of those supplies, and the translation of that letter into modern English. A record of where everything had gone wrong.

He should have written it in English. He should have written it himself, instead of dictating it to a scribe. But he was trying to be legitimately official about it, as well as trying to drive home that Asgard, and especially himself, were no strangers, nor foreign invaders, but they were merely returning to a world they had once been very involved in. That they had been venerated as gods on this world, that they had influenced the culture and language of the ancestors of millions of humans. That their influence remained, and they should not be dismissed. Neither could Loki resist the small mischief of being mysterious and indirect, by using a language that would have to be specially deciphered.

But thousands of years had passed since that language had been spoken, thousands of years since that scribe had written it. Though through some coincidence, or else the unknown machinations of the Norns, Asgardian and that long forgotten language were very similar, they were not truly mutually intelligible. The scribe could not remember the word for 'bride', and instead substituted a kenning. In Asgardian, it meant 'she who is bound to the soul', invoking the deep love one should have for their spouse. But in what this translator was calling 'old proto-Norse', it apparently translated to 'she who is given to the grave', the margin notes stating, in no uncertain terms, that they thought he wanted a human sacrifice.

They believed he intended to kill you. To demand proof of their willingness to give up the life of one of their own, in order to secure the riches he promised.

And they had done it.

Retrieved correspondences stated that you had been picked at random from a database of 'undesirables who might prove to be detrimental to the cause', and that you were an agitator of 'negligible influence'. To Loki, this indicated that there might be a quite large list of people your government was currently willing to sacrifice, in one way or another.

This explained everything. The lack of fanfare, the disrespectful delivery of your person, you not knowing what was going on, your hacked social media. If he were to check back in a few days, he had the sneaking suspicion he would find that you had been announced dead, presumably a suicide.

The extent of this betrayal was staggering. Even if he had not loved you so dearly, the scale of it was greater than he would have imagined. Potentially thousands, maybe tens of thousands of people in this nation alone, listed for sacrifice, should your government find a reason. That you, his precious bride, his hope for the future, was on a list of 'undesirables'. What about you was undesirable? What part of you was of 'negligible influence'? As long as the fire in you continued sparking like forbidden fire, they would see how 'negligible' your influence remained, as an immortal princess of Asgard!

You didn't need these people. You were greater than them now. They sought to sacrifice you, but you'd been exalted instead. You were no longer theirs.

This betrayal couldn't stand though. Something would have to be done. Not immediately; Loki would need time to decide how he wanted to avenge this injustice, to plan. Until then, he would make you comfortable in your new home, adore and fawn over you, like you deserved.

But first, before he returned, there was some small vengeance he could take for you.

                                                                            ******

Information was remarkably insecure for people who thought they were untouchable. A few strokes of a clunky Midgardian keyboard, a few strides on the magical paths that still existed on this world, and Loki found himself sneaking in the backdoor of a modest house, in a nice neighborhood. He had hoped that his black hood and cloak would make him invisible in the dark halls, but the owner of the house was the type of man to install motion sensors Inside the house, as well as outside.

His paranoia could not save him, nor could the gun he leveled at Loki, in his voluminous cloak. Loki rolled to the side, and the bullet passed through cloth. It was the only chance he had to defend himself before Loki was on him, grabbing him by the throat and pinning him to the wall. Loki twisted his wrist until he dropped his gun, snarling your name into his face.

“Do you remember her?” Loki demanded. “Do you remember what you did?”

“I don't give a shit about some dumb bitch rioter!” the man spat, wriggling in his grip. “You're fucking dead though! We'll find out who you are! You won't be able to hide!” “No remorse and no consequences?” Loki shook his head. “Justice really must be blind.”

His hand moved like a striking snake, stiff, crossed fingers jabbing twice with perfect precision. Loki let the man drop to the ground, screaming and clutching his bloodied face, while he went to wash the gore off his hand.

Once clean, Loki returned and reached down to rip the ID number patch from the man's uniform, then stepped over him as he wailed helplessly on the ground, and disappeared back into the calm and quiet neighborhood.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 4: Venusian Vogue

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Images of broken light Which dance before me like a million eyes They call me on and on across the universe.                   Across the Universe-The Beatles

“I am Loki.”

“I asked for a bride.”

The declarations smashed into you like fists and took your breath with them.

There was a ring on your finger. Silvery, plain, simple. Why hadn't you noticed it before?

This was clearly Loki. Sunken eyes, and onyx hair, and refined bones. Exactly like the pictures. Why hadn't you noticed?

Too many things all at once. Too much. A fearful whine escaped your teeth, as you tugged on the ring. It didn't budge.

“You're supposed to be dead.” You whispered.

His face fell the instant you spoke.

“You know. I sometimes think that myself. Yet somehow I remain. Take it as a reassurance: you will not lose me to battle, or accident. I will never leave you. I suppose that is something that new brides must worry about, especially human ones. You may put that fear to rest.”

“That's not what I'm-” You clamped your mouth shut. You were in a bad position, worse than you'd ever been, maybe. You were completely alone here; you could contact no one for help. You weren't even sure where exactly 'here' was-no one knew where Asgard was located.

You were trapped in a room with a madman. A prince among his own people, who had proven himself capable of the mass murder of humans like you. Yet claiming you were his bride.

No one would come to your aid.

Did anyone even know you were missing?

You glanced at the ring once more. Its twin rested proudly on his own left hand. What choice did you have?

You had to play along. At least until you found some way out of this. Stay on the madman's good side, as much as that was possible.

“Why me?” You asked, fighting down your panic. Just gather information for now. “I'm literally nobody.”

“I don't understand either.” He sat down on the bed, just a little closer to you than arms length. “This was supposed to be a chance at reconciliation. I willingly gave myself up in a symbolic act of unity. Sacrificed my own freedom.”

You side-eyed him hard. Gave up his freedom? In what capacity? He wasn't the one kidnapped and married without any knowledge or choice!

“This isn't an uncommon arrangement.” He continued. “Your species has done this since time immemorial. From kings all the way down to commoners, uniting families, uniting fortunes, uniting entire lands. Surely your...leader...understood what was to be gained. Yes, I did a terrible thing to your people, but this should have forged a new alliance. A promise that not only would I not do such a thing again, but that my formidable prowess would be for your people, rather than against them. Was this not enough? This should have opened the way for trade, for treaties...And you! Why do such a thing to you? One of his own people?”

“Oh, I'm not his.” You said. “I voted against him. I march in protests against his shitty policies. I oppose him in any way I can. I'd say 'maybe that's why', but it really can't be. I'm nowhere near important or influential enough for the government to pay any attention to me. They're too busy trying to kill me through austerity. Or through the cops.”

Loki's face darkened. “I should find that officer and flay him. Make you a bodice of his skin.”

He'd been reaching for your shoulder, but you flinched away.

“Okay see? That right there? That's why people might not want to ally with you.” You pointed out.

“He shouldn't have hurt you.”

“That's true. That doesn't mean you can use my pain as an excuse to rampage on Earth!”

“I shan't!” He protested. “Never again, I promise you that.”

But how good was the promise of government? Politician or hereditary ruler, it was all the same. How good was the word of a murderer? How many promises had he already broken?

“How do you feel?” He asked. “You seem...lively. Whatever you were drugged with, is it having a lasting effect?”

“I'm a little disoriented, but I'm awake.” You said. “The food and water helped.”

“Yes. About that. Ah. Would you like to see your rooms? I've been anticipating your arrival-well, someone's arrival-for some months now, and I've had chambers created that befit your new station.”

The big unknown outside. Beyond this room was nothing but uncertainty. But you would be the first human being to see this new Asgard. You told yourself it was a perk.

“Um...” You mumbled. “My clothes...” You weren't going out there in a flimsy hospital gown, that was for sure.

“Being cleaned and mended.” Loki informed you. “I have a simple gown that I believe should fit you. Here.” Wit a sweeping gesture, he produced a voluminous, forest green garment out of seemingly nowhere.

You scooted away. “How did you do that?” You demanded.

“Magic, of course.” He said. “You...don't know about the magic...?”

You shook your head and took the robe from him. It felt real enough, smooth and soft, with fur trim and pin tucks. This was simple?

“What do you know about me, my dear?” He asked.

“Not much. Just what...turn around!” Sheepishly, he turned his back so you could change. “Just what was on the news. And the approximately three million conspiracy websites that popped up afterwards. You might be shocked by how many people think you were an inside job.”

“A what?”

“That's not even counting all the cults. You and Thor really got the radicalization machine cranking them out. White supremacists, nationalists, doomsday cults...thanks a lot. Not as if we didn't have enough problems cleaning up the mess you left behind.”

“That...was not my intention. Were you...?”

“I was not part of any cults. I was also not part of the celebration of your death, either.”

The news broadcast had interrupted every television, lit up every phone. A tired and battle-worn Thor, looking not one inch the hero the world knew him to be, as he towered over the reporter. He gave only a short statement: His brother Loki was dead, perished in honorable battle, in an effort to protect the galaxy from an ancient enemy.

People had trusted him. They'd seen the destruction that enemy had caused, in their quest to destroy everything. The odd teleportation anomalies in England that had dominated youtube for a long time. The leaves in your bathroom, the foreign plants in the park. Exotic, even alien creatures being spotted.

People threw parties at the news of Loki's demise. You'd gone out, gotten yourself exactly one drink, and then stayed home for the weekend. It didn't seem right, not after seeing Thor so hollowed out. You didn't really get on with celebrating the death of your enemies anyway, only the success of your causes.

“Oh. Well. Thank you.”

“But yeah, all I really know is that you attacked us out of the blue, and brought an army with you. You caused billions in damages and cost hundreds of lives. Thousands more lost everything. The economic blow is still with us, and led to some of the problems I've been marching against. And then you died. Except not, obviously. Was Thor lying to us?”

“No. He truly believed me dead. I did too, until I woke up. So you know nothing of me. I feared that might be the case. I am no warlord, not truly. I am the foremost sorcerer of Asgard. My magic has many applications, one of which is that I am rarely found without what I need.”

“So magic is real?” Why not? Aliens were real. Gods were apparently real.

“Yes, very. When times were...better, I used to tutor younger students. I might go back to doing that, once we are more established. Once we are safe.”

Safe? From what? Was whatever it was that had destroyed Asgard still out there? Thor had said otherwise, before the radio silence, but he had also thought that Loki was dead, and he was wrong about that, so...

“May I look now, dear?”

“Oh...yeah. I'm dressed.” The gown did fit, though mostly because it was a shapeless, oversized thing that was closed around you with ties. Still, it was luxurious, and made you feel like you were actually pretty-as long as no one looked at you too closely. Was this what a princess wore? You shouldn't allow yourself to get too used to it. As soon as you found a way out, you were out.

“Delightful. Even such a simple gown enhances your beauty. Will you come with me, dear? Let me show you our grand achievements.”

You didn't really want to be exposed to the people of Asgard, but this room was no safer than anywhere else right now. Loki hovered, and you stood, and managed a few wobbly steps before you overbalanced. He caught you instantly.

“Don't worry.” He murmured. “I'm here.”

As if that wasn't the problem in the first place.

“So, while you were carrying me off...I mean, when you, uh, received me, did you notice a cane lying around?” You asked. “I had one. Did the guys who brought me give it to you?”

“I'm afraid not.” He said apologetically. “They seemed strangely eager to quit the area.”

“Yeah, well. They had just committed a felony.” You griped. “They probably had orders to disappear. And they probably didn't want to hang around and witness what a warlord was gonna do to me.”

He winced. “I promise you, that's not what I really am.”

“Sorry.”

He held out his arm for you. “I don't have your cane, but I can support you. We will have another cane made for you. There should have been an Artificer and an apprentice Healer in here at some point, to measure you for a new prosthetic.”

“Uh, there were. I, uh, kinda told them to piss off.”

“Ah. I suppose I cannot blame you, now that I know of your situation. But they are here at your service, as is all of Asgard.”

He helped you limp along, somehow maintaining his dignified stride, even as you wobbled along like a penguin. The hallways were as bland and labyrinthine as a human hospital, if somewhat more softly lit. Again the light source was obscured behind thin panes of cloudy crystal, which diffused the light, giving everything a comforting, if slightly mysterious atmosphere, which the general emptiness of the area only enhanced.

There were few people here, but for some reason, you had been placed in a room far within the hospital complex. Maybe they wanted to hide you away, so that no one knew you were here until they were ready to introduce you to Asgard. Or until they were certain you were going to survive. It might cause a scandal if the prince's bride just up and died upon arrival.

Or perhaps it was to protect you. There were plenty of reasons why a human bride might not be accepted by the Asgardian populace; everything from nationalism, to someone wanting to make a bid for that crown themselves.

There were still no windows to be seen, and everything was made of stone, just like in the hospital room. Out here, in the halls and waiting rooms, the desks, chairs, and tables all seemed to be joined to the walls and floor, as if the whole place had been carved from a single, solid piece, like the rock-cut architecture of the fabled city of Petra. Here again were the creamy grays and oranges lining the walls, though a smooth black also made an appearance.

Eventually, you came to what must have been a foyer, with a high ceiling, complex stone mosaics, and huge, gorgeously carved double doors, but still no windows.

“We will be going outside now.” Loki said. “This facility is within the palace complex, and is not far from your special chambers, but we will have to cross a few halls and courtyards. There are plenty of places to sit, so if you need a rest, simply say so.”

He opened the doors for you, and you stepped out into a world of stone.

Everything was stone, stone or metal. Before you was a wide open courtyard, clearly unfinished, but spacious. At regular intervals were stone towers supporting open pillared hallways in a multiple storied, vaguely Roman courtyard style. The towers shot up, and up, and up...you climbed them with your gaze, following them to the heights to which they had to buttress each other with thin struts of stone, higher still, where they joined with an impossibly high ceiling.

There was a roof over the courtyard, so tall that your couldn't fathom how it had been built. Beyond the courtyards stacked walkways-six full stories-you could see the tips of other towers, lined with lights, merging with this high rise ceiling. Was the entire palace built under this massive shelter?

Clearly the sun did not reach into the palace. To offset this, the crystal-paned, inset lights were everywhere, creating complex patterns that mimicked the intricate knotted carvings that chased up the towers and pillars. The corbels glared down at you, fierce masks of bearded men, wolves, dragons and birds, lights in their eyes.

Combined, it was not as bright as sunlight, but not dim either. The softness of the glow made shadows diffuse, made the stone look soft and fake, and even shimmery in places, like the set pieces in eighties fantasy movies. If not for the pain in your bruises, you'd have thought the dreamy atmosphere was just that, and that you were about to wake up from this absurd dream any moment now.

But the pain was there, and denied that simple, hopeful wish. And Loki was there, gently urging you forward like he was a real gentleman, instead of a heinous war criminal. There were a few other people out here as well; walking the courtyards pillared halls, resting on stone benches, carving hollows into the ground.

There was no soil here. All stone. As you crossed the courtyard, you noticed black, and gray, and cloudy crystal inlaid into the ground in a shape reminiscent of a compass rose, decorated with silvery wire knotwork in bird and serpent shapes.

There were troughs and niches being carved into the ground that looked to you like they were meant to be flower beds...eventually. You had seen no dirt here yet, no grass or growing things at all. Maybe once you finally got outside. But for now, it felt as if you had left a building, only to exit into another building, that was in turn, within another building.

It was a bit suffocating.

Loki led you across several courtyards, each with a different pattern inlaid into their bare floor, and through vaulted hallways that still contained no windows. Many of these hallways intersected in large, circular domes, and few of them had any distinctive markings. Soon you were completely lost. With any luck, you would be able to get your hands on some paper, and create a map-otherwise, any escape attempts would be doomed from the word go.

But maybe that was the point.

Your staggering steps echoed down a particularly tall and wide hallway, almost completely devoid of people. You were almost at the end of your physical capabilities, and while there were places to sit, you felt like you must be close to your destination. You really wanted to be in a room whose dimensions you could be certain of. A space you could comprehend.

Loki brought you to a stop in front of a pair of carved wooden doors. As the first piece of architecture you had seen here that was something other than stone, you found them more beautiful than anything you'd seen all day. They were something almost normal, almost like something you would have at home. If you were insanely rich, or your dad was a carpenter or something. They were a warm terra-cotta color, carved with a dizzying array of knotwork, framed with blackened, riveted iron. The handles were iron serpents.

“We imported some things from your homeland. This redwood lumber is one such thing. From what I hear, these trees are emblematic of your country.”

“Er...” How to politely say, 'not really, even though most people who live there do know what a redwood is'. They weren't very important to anyone who didn't live near where they grew. They weren't what you would call 'quintessentially American'. There wasn't anything you could really call that. The place was just too damn big.

“We couldn't bring too much, not yet anyway.” He continued. “It is expensive, unfortunately, and we only have one ship. It can only carry so much, and it takes about three days to transport. Things are moving slowly, but our construction projects are moving along speedily. There's little else to do right now, save build.”

He opened the doors for you, and led you into a fairy tale.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter Six: Meteoric Mambo

Chapters: 6/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: kidnapping, forced marriage, death mention, mild body horror

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Gave my love to a shooting star But she moves so fast that I can't keep up, I'm chasing I'm in love with a shooting star But she moves so fast, when she falls then I'll be waiting                                              Shooting Star-Bag Raiders

Loki leapt for the door, bellowing for somebody to fetch someone named Eir. Then he was at your side, lifting you effortlessly in his arms and carrying you through your beautiful rooms, to lay you down on your warm, comfortable bed, where you writhed uncontrollably in terrible pain.

Loki unbelted your dress, and drew the blanket up to your chest, then seated himself next to you, holding your hand, stroking your face, and murmuring things you could barely understand through the pain. Eventually a graceful, middle-aged woman appeared with several handheld devices, and a sound scolding for Loki for being so irresponsible with the Apple.

You couldn't even take pleasure in the dressing-down he was receiving, as the woman attached one of the devices to your arm, and set the other one above your bed. A projection of your body appeared above you, hovering in midair. It showed all kinds of information that you didn't understand, like the graphics in a science fiction film.

“It's started in her spine.” Eir said. “That's why the pain is so severe to begin with. It's effecting her nerves first.”

“What does that mean?” you cried, your voice twisted into squeals of agony. “What is it doing to me?”

Eir began to launch into another scolding, but Loki drowned her out with speedy explanations.

“The Apples of Immortality contain enzymes that act as catalizers on the genetic codes of certain species. So far, we know for certain that they effect Vanir, Asgardians, Jotun, and Humans. They effect us in slightly different ways, but in humans, the change is most drastic.

The Apples give humans greater strength and durability, energy efficiency, speedier healing of wounds and resistance to disease, and a greatly extended lifespan. However, it does this by stimulating the cells of your body to divide en masse, and changing the DNA as it is replicating, resulting in one cell that it original, and one cell that is enhanced. The enhanced cell then devours the original cell, eventually eradicating all traces of original DNA in the body, and leaving a fully enhanced individual behind.”

“My body is making a new me, and cannibalizing the old me at the same time?” you shrieked.

“That's a remarkably lurid way of putting it, but yes, it's accurate. Don't worry, you will still be you at the end of it. Only stronger, and with greater longevity.”

He was so desperately trying to reassure you of the good that would come of this, but all you could do was scream curses at him for the pain, and the lack of permission, and the recklessness. You didn't care if you destroyed the illusion of complacency you had planned to weave-the agony stripped you of any guile you'd thought to employ. But he stayed by your side anyway, gently kissing your hand and wiping your face with a dry cloth as you writhed and screamed.

It didn't matter that you couldn't tell the time; time was meaningless. There was only moment after moment of suffering, an endless, enduring, torturous present. Each minute brought fresh distress, and greater disorientation, as your senses altered under the effects of the Apple, and the agony spread throughout your body as if carried in your blood.

Perhaps it was the trauma of pain effecting your compromised mind, but you were sure that your sense of touch had been so enhanced that your could feel your body devouring and replacing its most sensitive and delicate parts. Your eyes, your tongue, your throat and lungs-you were certain that you felt them rapidly dying and changing. You saw sparks as you writhed helplessly, the colors so bright that you had to squeeze your eyes shut.

And still he babbled on, and still Eir monitored the illusion body, and still you suffered without end. You expected to fall unconscious into exhaustion, begged for it to come, but remained trapped firmly in the grip of the eternal Now.

It reached into your heart, slowed it so much you could hardly move or breathe, It reached into your brain, dampened everything, sound, sight, and finally, even the pain. As your brain ate and replaced itself, your screams faded, and you found yourself unable to feel, think, or do anything. It was a form of death, and you welcomed it with gratitude, though remained conscious throughout.

You vaguely registered that Loki was panicking, believing the Apple might have somehow killed you, blathering about love and apologies, snapping at Eir, who coldly shut him down.

He was insane, this whole ordeal really proved it. Mad royals weren't uncommon, mad, immortal, super-powered rulers were a much rarer problem, but a problem you now had.

Maybe not for long. Maybe you really were dying. Maybe your brain didn't replace itself fast enough. Maybe other parts of your body were failing. Maybe you would be free of this nightmare soon.

But the replacement must have gone well, because pain began to fade back in, from the parts of you that weren't finished with their self-cannibalization. Loki threw his arms around you when he noticed you beginning to writhe and gasp again, holding you firmly, yet tenderly. Some small and guilty part of you took comfort in it, even as you hissed hatred into his ear.

Time did pass, even if you couldn't perceive it, and you only had so much body to devour and rebuild. The pain finally dissipated, but ache and shock remained. If what Loki said was true, if it wasn't just a lie that Eir was going along with, then you had been changed; irrevocably changed without him even asking or letting you know what was happening until it was already happening. No choice, no consent. And he dared babble about love.

The shock dampened the resentment, and the exhaustion kept you from struggling; Loki kept holding you like it was okay, like he hadn't just subjected you to a trauma nearly equal to the one you had already endured. You could feel your leg. It had been years since you'd felt those phantoms, but this brought it all back.

All you could really do was cry in the arms of the monster that now held you, tenderly as a beast cradling a chick.

You could feel his horrible strength, his cloying warmth, his humid breath on your hair was hot in the dry air. You hadn't yet thought about him having a scent, but he did, the kind of scent that any living animal had, similar to another human being, and poorly covered with soap or cologne, also like a human being. He smelled alive; alive, and breathing, and warm, and you were cold with sweat, ravenous and sore with exertion, weary with exhaustion.

“Don't...want to be here.” you breathed piteously.

“Shh.” he soothed, dabbing your tears with his cloth. “It will be alright, my dear. I will make it so.”

He said it with such firm confidence, as if nothing in the universe could stand in his way. But then, he was perfectly capable of just killing inconveniences, wasn't he? All authority was; from the small-town cop with their false drug or gun allegations, to entire governments who politely asked their people not to call the internment camps at the border 'concentration camps' please.

All your life you had been under the thumb of that authority, and all your life all authority had done was try to take more and more control from you-from your mind, with constant propaganda and psyops, and from your body, with never-ending financial drains and restrictions. But it had never been as direct as this. It was exhausting and soul breaking, but it wasn't like this.

This man held you like a lover while he destroyed you.

“Let yourself rest. Rest.” he murmured  “Nothing else will hurt you. You'll be safe from now on, I'll see to it. My precious bride, just wait. After this, we can look to the future. After this, I can make you deliriously happy. Just let me.”

You were already drifting off, but you didn't miss the command behind that. What would he do if you were unable to comply? Would he find some way to 'make' you, like he had 'made' those people follow him when he first came to Earth? Or would he just remove you somehow? It was clear now that he wasn't planning to replace you with some other woman, not after this. This 'mistake' was permanent now.

You didn't fight the slumber as it came over you. It seemed like the only thin that would free you, if only for a little while.

                                                                         ******

Loki didn't want to leave your side, not even while you slept, but Eir all but dragged him away by the ear, to scold him for his recklessness.

“This is not one of your magical experiments, your highness, this is your wife! She is human! She is delicate, and distressed, and you have dropped a great deal on her in a very short time. Humans are not that strong, my prince. You must treat her gently, moreso than her own people apparently have.”

Loki took the tongue-lashing as he deserved, guilt gnawing at him. He had been reckless. He'd rushed things that hadn't needed to be rushed. Things that, in fact, should have been taken much more slowly, so that this case of mistaken identity could have been revealed and safely resolved.

It was far too late for that now. Loki was tied to you, and you were immortalized, and there would never be another for him, and your life would never be the same. More than his overflowing love for you, he now owed you quite a bit, for the tremendous disruption he had caused you.

He needed to find out what happened. Why had this all gone so wrong? It was tempting to attribute it to a curse upon his life; like every great plan he had ever made, it had come crashing down disastrously. But no, there was something else at work here, something outside of his knowledge or control. Someone was working against him.

Only a handful of humans knew he still lived, and was here. Several key U.N. leaders, those Thor had deemed either the most powerful, or the most trustworthy. It was a knife's edge of political power balance: if Loki stepped too far out of line, those leaders could reveal to the world that he still lived, and all of humanity might turn against Asgard for it. But likewise, Asgard could turn it back on them; after all, those leaders knew he lived, and ignored it for their own gain. Human lives were so brief, and human leaders were so terribly aware of their own mortality, so terribly obsessed with holding their power until they died. To lose that was the greatest fear of each and every one of them, and he was entirely willing to use that against them as viciously as necessary.

Showing mercy, while making it clear what unmercifulness would look like was one of Asgards oldest and most powerful negotiating tools.

Had someone in power in your homeland interfered with the selection process? Had an enemy of your homeland done it? He had expected a relative of your country's leader, a daughter, niece, or cousin. Perhaps an even more distant relation. Had a third cousin objected to their daughter being sent to him, and replaced her with you at the last moment? Treachery.

Why had they deemed you a suitable replacement then? Was it the leg? Was it that you were poor? They must have known that you would become rich beyond measure as his wife.

What had happened?

He couldn't shake free of the memory of your face, contorted with agony, begging for death, cursing his name for hours. It had taken nearly a day for the transformation to be complete, but it had been so long since a human had been blessed with an Apple, that Loki didn't know if that was normal or not. Maybe that was why they were given to humans so rarely. Few would go through that kind of torment willingly.

You hadn't even done it willingly.

His heart squeezed tight in his chest. He had to find out what had happened.

                                                                       ******

“Ah. If it isn't my favorite face, before me once again.” Heimdall said, voice as flat as always.

“How is it possible that you've gotten even more insufferable since the last time we met?” Loki shot back. “All this extra sunlight must be overheating your brain.”

“And yet, it was your highness who decreed this be my new lookout point. Do you complain now?”

“No, no, look. When I picked up my wife, did you see anything unusual? Anything surrounding the event at all?”

“I saw two men, dressed identically, in a vehicle that lacked some of the marks that they usually have. They threw her walking aid into the grass a few miles away from your pick up site. A dog dragged it away. I did not see them escort her, as I did not know who I was looking for at that time.”

“Could you find them again?”

Heimdall gave him a stoic look. Loki sighed and nodded.

“Find them again. I wish to know what they are doing right now.”

Heimdall gazed out, ignoring the beating sun, and sought his targets.

“One is eating a sandwich at an outdoor cafe. He has an iced coffee. The waitress is flirting with him, but he does not respond to it.” he said in the hollow voice he got when he was far away like that. “The other...rots under the desert, naked.”

“He's dead?” Loki exclaimed. It had only been a day since he had received you. What could the man have done that warranted his death? He had delivered you, as promised.

Unless the men weren't supposed to deliver you. Unless they had been part of a plot, and perhaps one man had sacrificed his partner in order to escape. Unless...any number of possible intrigues.

“Extremely.” Heimdall confirmed.

Loki sighed and shook his head. There was too much missing information.

“I will need to speak to him.”

“The dead man?”

“No, of course not! The one having lunch. But not right now. When he is alone. Keep an eye on him.”

Heimdall said nothing, but merely settled into his long distance gaze. Loki approached a nearby worker. He was dressed in the heavy duty working clothes of a miner, and looking over a stack of reports. Loki joined him under his sun shelter.

“Find anything new?”

The miner started at his sudden appearance.

“Your majesty!” he exclaimed. “I didn't know you were coming.”

“I just happened to be in the area. How are your findings?”

“Uh, well,” the miner shuffled his reports nervously. “the iron has turned out to be substantially more that the traces we initially assumed, and we have discovered more water to be extracted. Several locations, in fact. We've also discovered  titanium, however...”

“Is there some kind of problem with it?” Loki asked.

“It's pretty far to the south...on land that technically hasn't been ceded to us.”

“A complication, to be certain. Well. Let's look at it as Midgardians would.” Loki began ticking points off on his fingers. “One: does anybody else live there? No, this entire rock is uninhabited, save for us. Two: Has anyone else laid claim to that land? Doubtful. I believe there have been treaties regarding that. Treaties which, incidentally, we have not signed. Three: is there any indigenous wildlife in the area that needs to be protected?”

The miner laughed.

“So the problem we are faced with here is largely non-binding. And if we keep our operation mostly underground, they might never notice in the first place. And even if they do, wasn't this land-gift meant to be a way for them to observe how we transform difficult terrain into livable space? They cannot observe us if we do not do it.”

“As you say, my liege.” The miner said.

Loki left him to his business, and made his rounds to each of the workers who were out plying their trades under the bright sun; water gatherers, stonecutters, road builders, brick makers, and maintenance workers, listening to their worries and spreading encouragement.

This was something he felt Odin must have forgotten; that kingdoms were not built on secrets, but by the hands of every member of society. Addressing their concerns was important, and often not all that difficult. The commoner was most often interested in simple things, such as food and safety for their family. The worker was usually concerned for their project, and their concerns were worth hearing, as they knew what they were doing. Loki did not know what stone was good and sturdy, or what stone was flawed or too weak for building with. A stonemason did.

Also, it was worth the time to be known by the people he was meant to lead and rule. Who could proclaim allegiance to a mystery?

He heard Heimdall softly call for him, as if the watcher was right next to him. He wished the man he was talking to well, and made his way back along the sun-drenched road.

“Well?” he asked.

“The man has retired to an inn. He is alone in his room.”

Loki smiled thinly. “Perfect.”

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader #Heimdall (Marvel)

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of The Spheres Chapter 1: Terran Tarantella

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, implied murder

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:   

“I see a bad moon a-rising

I see trouble on the way

I see earthquakes and lightnin’

I see bad times today”

                       Creedence Clearwater Revival

A small group of men, and one woman gathered in a small room; the kind that seemed like a storage closet from the outside, the kind that had cameras installed, but not functioning. Beyond this room, the basic hustle of running a government rushed on, but within it, all heads were turned to a handful of hand written documents scattered over the table.

“And you're absolutely sure this translation is correct?” One of them asked.

“Yes.” The woman said. “Well, as much as I can be. Old Norse is a contentious language, but this is written so much more clearly than most of our primary sources.” She gestured to the letter in question, written in gold ink on purple parchment. It was a museum quality piece of work, and it would likely never see the inside of one. Its contents were just too incriminating. Especially since the President seemed to be seriously considering it.

“Hm. Well then, we should probably chose someone shouldn't we?” He said.

“Mister President?” The translator asked. “Are you sure? I've been quite plain about what this says. What is being asked of us. It's...reprehensible. And frankly, I am surprised that King Thor would even allow it.”

“Ma'am, this is a culture that is old beyond reckoning.” Another man-one of the generals? She couldn't keep them straight-piped in. “An alien race on top of that. It's only to be expected that they would have customs that are unfamiliar, even repugnant to us. We should keep an open mind.”

It was ridiculous. She knew for a fact that many of the people in this room and beyond held virulent hatred for several cultures that existed on Earth. There was no reason they should be showing this kind of cultural sensitivity to a bunch of aliens who just showed up and started making demands. Especially that one...

“I ask you to understand that sometimes we make hard sacrifices for the good of all.” The President said. “Asgard is a galactic superpower.”

“Was.” She pointed out. “Now they're a bunch of refugees.”

The President gave her an annoyed glance. “They will no doubt regain their power shortly. Their technology is wildly advanced. And if we go along with the occasional weird little whim they have, they will be grateful. So America gains access to Asgardian tech. Imagine how many people could have their lives bettered by Asgardian friendship.”

The translator couldn't help but wonder since when this man gave a shit about bettering the lives of others. It was disgusting, that this was probably just another path to money and power for him. Even moreso that no one else in the room was questioning this, even a little bit. They were all known for eating scraps from his table anyway, and likely looking to grab some of those benefits for themselves. At what expense?

She decided to start looking for another job.

“Asgardian friendship would certainly be a boon for our country.” She said. “Do you have further need of me?” She wanted out of here badly now. She didn't want to be in the room while they made this awful choice.

“No.” The president said. He tapped one of his men on the arm. “Escort her out, would you?”

With relief, she followed the man out of the room.

She never made it to her car.

                                                                               ******

Loki wandered through the dark and cramped byways, to the furthest reaches of their new settlement, past the places where the rest of his people felt safe, past where even he felt safe. These outside places were no longer the haunts of petty criminals or undesirables exactly, not that he feared such unsavories. No, these rough walls were now the lair of the most notorious and hidden Asgardian of all. So mythical was she, that almost no one knew she still lived.

Gullveig the witch. If stories were to be believed, she was the first witch. If stories were to be believed, she had been killed three times, and returned each time. If stories were to be believed, that meant she was now beyond death.

If stories were to be believed, that meant he was as well.

But that was not why he was here.

In all the whispers, in all the screamed confessions, all the gibbering of those who had visited her, her power was very real. Real and terrible, for she could grant any wish, any wish at all, and sometimes that was far more than the wisher actually wanted. Word a wish poorly, and it would be granted. Fail to think through the consequences of a wish, and it would still be granted. It was why she had been killed so many times in the first place. But that was the fault of the wishers, not Gullveig herself.

And Loki had thought through this wish, and knew what it would cost him. But the gains...if he had calculated correctly, predicted correctly, the gains for Asgard could be immense. Steeling himself, he found the one area that appeared to be lit, and entered.

“You have returned again.” She said in her cracked and watery voice. Her back was to him, and she appeared to be warming her hands over a tiny fire in a glowing crucible. Fires-real fires-were strictly forbidden within the confines of Asgard right now, but it was debatable whether those embers counted as a real fire, debatable whether she lived within Asgard. On the edge of things, always as she liked it. “So you are truly committed?”

“I am.” Loki said. “I have made my decision.”

The old witch cackled in amusement. “It may be your last! After this, you will be different. You know this, yes? This person who stands in my doorway? He will no longer exist.”

“That is by design.” Loki said.

She turned to face him. She was, by far, the oldest Asgardian he had ever seen; bent, wizened, wrinkled and scraggly. She didn't look the part of a witch. She wasn't horrifying to look at, simply old, frail, wrapped in a pale shawl. She wasn't frightening at all, except that he knew her to be older than his father's father, and that she had one, single-minded focus in life that transcended any morality or ethics she might have ever had.

“Did you bring me what I want?” she asked.

“Yes.” He offered up a sizable sack, filled with every last scrap of gold that he owned. He had pried it from his armor, stripped it from his jewelry, and pricked out every last shimmering thread from his royal wardrobe. His, and only his: she would not accept any that he had taken from someone else. This had to be his sacrifice to make-the first of several.

Gold was all she ever wanted. Anyone could buy her services, if only they offered gold. Sometimes she didn't care where they got it, but as a ruler, he was a special case. No one knew what she did with it. Surely, she had collected enough over the millennia to build a palace out of it, but it was never anywhere to be seen.

She smiled at the sight of it, seemed to stand straighter, move more spryly.

“Now, for yours.” She plunged her claw-like fingers into the crucible, stirring the embers and ashes with rapidly blackening talons. She plucked forth a glowing ring, strewn with runes, and shook it, blowing ashes from the darkening metal. Using her tattered apron, she polished the ring until it shone even in the weak light of her tiny hovel.

It was not gold, which she would never have parted with, but platinum, a metal that just happened to be fairly abundant in their new settlement. He did not know if the powers of Midgard were aware of the riches to be found in the place they had allotted to Asgard, but he would certainly see that Asgard got to claim them.

The glow and runes had thoroughly faded from the ring before she set it on his palm, with the instruction 'not to put it on until you mean it'. But he knew exactly what he was going to do with it. He had taken the opportunity while Thor slept the long and powerful sleep of an Asgardian ruler, to send a message to the country of most of his brother's friends. The country he had tried to conquer. It was a message that promised things, as in days of old. A promise of power, of friendship, of mutual benefit, in exchange for a life. The simplest and most common of agreements.

Perhaps that might make up for his earlier...indiscretion.

He vanished the ring to his magical hiding place, and exited Gullveig's home. While Thor slept, Loki ruled, and it wouldn't do for him to be missed. Winding along through long, rough corridors, until he returned to the well-lit and finished walls of Asgard's new buildings, he found Heimdall and his advisors waiting. Perfect. He needed to tell them to expect a visitor soon.

                                                                            ******

“There. I think that's everybody within the parameters.” One worker said, pushing back from his computer.

“Let me check.” His partner leaned over the keyboard. “Lessee...age range, yeah...unmarried, yeah...less than twelve thousand a year, yeah...anti-Party sentiments on social media...arrest record, yeah...'other undesirable'? That's pretty cold.”

“This whole thing is cold.” He agreed. “But the projected benefits are worth it. Whoever's chosen will be contributing more than their current life is worth.”

“Cold as ice. Well, let's do this.” His partner hit the sort command, the program sifting through millions of names before settling on one at random.

“Well, there's our unlucky lady.” He said, pulling up all the personal information the computer had. “Sorry about this, miss, but maybe you should've made better life choices. Either way, your sacrifice will usher in a new age of prosperity for us.”

“Well, when do we get her?”

“We've got people in her town. We'll just send them a message tomorrow. Well, sleep tight, miss. There's no telling what that freak is going to do to you.”

“Fucking frigid, man.”

                                                                             ******

With a groan, you pulled yourself out of bed. Another day, another dollar. Never quite enough dollars for the amount of days you spent though.

You found your cane and hobbled to the shower, wasting precious morning moments under the warm spray. You probably wouldn't get a chance to bathe this evening. You would be going to a protest-you had finished your sign last night, and it should be dry by now.

You didn't bother to turn on the lights; the sun was peeking through your window, and it wasn't like your studio apartment had much clutter to trip over anyway.

Getting your leg attached, and grabbing a slice of buttered bread, you just barely caught the bus to work.

It was simple data entry, but it-barely-paid the bills. And it didn't require you to stand for hours, or be constantly walking back and forth, or talking directly to customers, so you were thankful to have it.

You'd still be voting for better conditions though, and surreptitiously trying to unionize. You, and everyone there were still being exploited, and it wouldn't do to just accept that, simply because it could be worse.

Now if only Betty had called in...Nope, she hadn't. It was practically every day lately, that you prayed for your ultra-conservative coworker to just stay home, but she never did. She bragged to you-or within earshot of you-very often about her perfect attendance. You could never prove that she was doing it as a jab to your occasional medical related absences, but you wouldn't put it past her.

She noticed you slipping your sign under your desk.

“That's inappropriate.” She said with unconcealed disgust. Ugh, the twit would hate protesters. She somehow thought she was closer to those power-hungry hangers-on that the regime seemed to draw out of the woodwork. She had much more in common with the people crawling in the streets than she ever would with the so-called 'president' and his cronies, and she would actually benefit from the changes you were all marching for, but her pointy, oyster-white nose was so far in the air that she would never see it.

“It's none of your business.” You grumbled, slipping into your chair, and setting your cane aside. You wouldn't be getting up from there for the next few hours.

“It is my business to know whether I share a cubicle wall with a violent thug!” She trilled sanctimoniously.

“Okay, first of all, that kind of accusation is inappropriate, and prohibited by company policy. Second of all, what am I gonna do? Limp at you?”

“If you decide to get aggressive with me, I can't escape. I have to run down the stairs, but you can beat me to any floor, just by using the elevator!”

“This again? Give it a rest!” You were this close to reporting her. Again. Maybe if you did it enough times, somebody would actually do something about it.

Betty held a genuine grudge over the fact that you were the only employee on this floor who got to use the janky old service elevator. Everybody else had to use the stairs. Never mind that it was literally the only way for you to even get to your desk. No, if there was something that some people were allowed to do, but Betty wasn't, it was clearly incontestable proof of oppression against Betty herself. Also, if the 'wrong sort' of people were allowed to do the same things Betty was, well that was also anti-Betty oppression. She just wanted so badly to be able to claim oppression, that she didn't realize that she actually was being oppressed by the people she wanted just as desperately to emulate.

She was exhausting.

“Good morning you two! Hey Betty, you got those numbers for me yet?” Saved by the boss. Well, not really. He didn't like you, but he didn't like Betty either. He didn't hate either of you. He was just the boss-make believe friendly, but distant, concerned with other things. However, he disliked when employees wasted time, and Betty did. A lot. That's what happened when someone was an incorrigible gossip.

Betty slunk back to her desk, cowed for at least a few minutes. He handed you a bit more work to do, then meandered down the aisle, greeting other employees, and handing out more work on his way to his own tiny office. He wasn't all that important either, in the scheme of things. It was really amazing how many people kept their gaze so fixed on the people in power that they couldn't see them pouring quicksand around their feet.

But you would lend your voice to the march on their behalf anyway. They deserved better too. Maybe they'd see it someday, instead of continuing to fight against their own interests.

For now, though, you would concentrate on your work.

The morning came and went, your little lunch alarm signaling its death. You grabbed your cane and walked slowly and carefully to the break room. You kept a week's worth of small lunches in baggies in the fridge here. Salami, little cheese slices, crackers, cherry tomatoes, baby carrots, and grapes. Not much, but tasty and filling, and you got all the food groups. There was an unspoken rule about not messing with other people's food that, thankfully, nobody in the office had ever broken; at least not while you'd been here.

You could see into the tidy lines of cubicles from the break room, and while you crunched away at your carrots, you noticed something worrying. There were two men in matching suits and shades talking to Betty. She spoke to them animatedly, gesturing at your cubicle. One of the men peeked inside.

Oh, you didn't like that at all.

You didn't actually have anything to hide, but you knew damn well that didn't matter. If these were cops-or worse-they would find whatever it was they wanted to find, one way or another.

By the time you got back from your lunch break, the men had disappeared, but Betty still had a distressingly smug grin on her face. You checked every drawer and every cranny of your desk: nothing had been taken, and nothing had been left behind. You went back to work, trying to ignore the anxiousness that was creeping up your back.

You had just finished and sent your last spreadsheet when your boss opened his door and called you to his office. You slowly made your way there, trying not to pay attention to the malice sparkling in Betty's face, or how your other coworkers glanced at you with pity or distrust.

The suspicious pair of men were hiding out in your boss' office, and you'd never seen him looking more uncomfortable.

One of the men positioned himself closer to the door behind you, not that you could run anyway.

“Um...Do you know why I called you in here?” Your boss asked.

“I assume it has something to do with your new friends.” You said sourly. This was going bad, you could see it a mile off. You honestly didn't know why they were here, or what they wanted. “Seriously though, no I don't. Why have you called me in here?”

You'd make him say it at least.

“Er, well, unfortunately your employment with us has been, well, terminated. So, if you would just gather up your things-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You interrupted.  “On what grounds? Because these guys said so?”

'These guys' said nothing.

“No, no, it's, uh...your arrest record...”

“That's ridiculous! Why didn't you fire me two months ago then, when it happened? Because you know it was pure bullcrap, that's why! You saw the footage; I never threw anything at that cop! He tripped over some garbage that was already there, then turned around, knocked me down, and hit me with my own cane. They let me out the same day because they knew they had nothing. Cane's still bent.”

“Look, I'm sorry, but you're fired. I'm sorry. Now go on, get out of here.”

And take them with you seemed to be the unspoken plea. You stormed out of the office with as much dignity as you could, spoke to no one, shoved the meager contents of your desk into your purse, gabbed your sign, and got into the old service elevator for the last time.

You would be reporting this, to anybody who would listen. It was completely unacceptable. And now you would have to go through the ordeal of applying either for unemployment, or disability. You hoped your savings would last long enough for your appeals to go through.

You spotted their reflections in a display window on the way to the bus stop. The two men from the office were following you now. Were they feds? Had Betty and your spineless boss sold you out to the feds? You hadn't even done anything!

You almost expected it when they dragged you into an alley, a pungent-smelling cloth held tight over your face, muffling your voice. It made you cough, but that also made you inhale, and in moments, soft blackness wrapped around you.

#danceofthespheres #loki x reader #disabled reader #loki (marvel) #thor (marvel) #Heimdall (Marvel)

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 5: Martian March

Chapters: 5/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

I'm going back to Saturn where the rings all glow

Rainbow, moonbeams, and orange snow

On Saturn, people live to be two hundred and five

Going back to Saturn where the people smile.

                                              Saturn-Stevie Wonder

our rooms glittered. They were faced in massive scale pietra dura stone patterns from floor to ceiling. Gray, black, and white dominated, with a surprising amount of green mixed in, as well as startling pops of orange-red, blue, yellow, purple, and bright pink.

The designs were large and geometric, almost a sister style to the classic Art Deco that you saw on the older buildings downtown, mixed in among the flavorless glass towers and Brutalist boxes that defined the 'modern' era.

This main room housed a delicately carved stone couch and chairs, around a low stone table, and several stone shelves and storage boxes. These were all made of a black stone that held numerous yellowish-green crystals in their matrix, all polished so that the crystals shimmered.

This same stone appeared in the patterns on the walls and floor, as very thin panes on a pale backing, highlighting the colors of their crystals. This, along with a similar black stone with reddish-orange crystals, and a dark gray, large-grained stone that sparkled at any angle, was contrasted against the now familiar creamy white and pale orange. Here and there, inlays of silvery wire brought organic shapes to the mix.

The cloudy crystal made a reappearance in a round, well-lit, domed room Loki described as a 'Solar', even though no sun could reach this place. Instead, the clearest of the crystal had been set into the dome, all of it covering the mysterious lights, creating a bright light source that illuminated the room to something close to midday. The walls were covered in the cloudy crystal, which, in the bright light, shone with veils and flashes of iridescent blue.

On one wall there was a subtle inlay of  translucent gray stone, in the shape of clouds, that shone in splashes of blue and purple. Cleverly inlaid within them were specific pieces of the same type of stone, in the shape of lightning bolts that sparked yellow when viewed at the right angle, but were invisible from others.

He showed you the antechamber that connected your rooms and his, all in black and green. Even the lights were covered in thin panes of green crystals thickly packed in black matrix, casting a dim, viridian light over the whole chamber.

You decided that room was extremely creepy, and you never wanted to be in it.

The bath room was much better, ridiculously large, with a shower just out in the open, a wide counter with a mirror of polished metal, a huge tub carved right into a semi-finished block of stone, and a strange toilet tucked away in a stall in the corner. It was all big enough for you to move around in easily, though you mentioned that you would need a chair for the shower. Loki vowed to have one brought immediately.

But your bedroom was the obvious jewel. Loki puffed up with pride as he showed it off, as if he were the one who designed it. There were jewels in here, bright, bubblegum pink, golden yellow, and apple green in elaborate platinum settings, affixed to the walls. There was more cloudy gray and white crystal in here, with their blue and purple, pink and yellow flashes. The lights were clustered around the ceiling like stars, and the bed was another of the precious rare wooden objects, a four poster canopy bed, draped with a gauzy veil.

Most surprising of all, the bedroom had a window-or rather, a doorway out to a semi-circular balcony that overlooked what must be the main palace courtyard and entrance. When you stepped out onto it, you could see lines of guards-more people than you'd seen in one place since you'd been here. They framed the long, rectangular space every ten feet or so, in bright, brassy armor and sunny yellow capes.

This was clearly a cape kind of place.

It was very strange. You could have sworn you hadn't climbed any ramps, and you certainly hadn't gone up any stairs, but here you were, at least six stories up, and there were more stories above you.

“You must be clever builders.” you said without thinking about it.

“Our engineering capabilities are the envy of the galaxy, it's true.” Loki boasted. You believed him. All around the courtyard more balconies jutted out. Several dozen feet to the side of yours, the balcony you assumed must belong to Loki was connected to another large balcony on the opposite side by an elegant walkway, supported by slender pillars. There was a round platform in the center, and red curtains obscured the balcony on the other side.

“We can address large crowds from there, or call emergency meetings of the guards, or the other high nobles.” Loki said, following your gaze. “That's who lives on this floor. Myself, my brother, all of the most important Asgardians, and now you.”

But not for long, if you had any opportunity. “Uh, I'm honored.”

“How do you like them, though?” he pressed, “Is the décor to your liking? The size? We've been working on it for months, but we can still change things if you need.”

“Months?” you gasped, shocked. “You guys did all this in just months?”

Asgard had come to Earth a little under two years ago, decimated and begging for assistance. Thor led them, but no one knew Loki had come along. Thor himself served as his own liaison to the United Nations, bringing his case before the leaders of Earth, to secure a place for his people.

Obviously, it had worked. Thor's reputation and high-profile friends, as well as his surprisingly diplomatic and optimistic outlook had both charmed and discombobulated most people who spoke to him. People liked and respected him, but no one expected him to be savvy.

It had worked out very well for him and his people. They had secured some secret land that the entire U.N. had remained tight-lipped about. Then, a few months in, Thor had stopped making appearances, leaving Earth-Asgard relations to his advisors; an abrasive, undiplomatic woman whom you loved to watch, and a stoic and imposing man with unsettling eyes. Rumors flew for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention. There had been so much to fight for at home.

Did anyone even know you were gone? You were supposed to attend a march tonight. Or last night? You didn't know how long you had been asleep. Surely someone noticed you were missing.

But if they did, how would you even know?

“-harness the sun's energy over the long rotation period so that we can build even more efficiently.” Loki was saying. “We've done an admirable job for such a reduced population, but there is so much more to do.”

“And you took them away from that to build this for me?”

“I took them away from this to build special chambers for the princess of Asgard.” Loki corrected, “It was not a waste, nor was it superfluous. It was for someone important.”

“I'm not.” you insisted, “I'm just some rando they snatched up and tossed at you. I'm not princess material.”

“I will find out what is behind this.” he said, “But until I can, I want you to feel comfortable here. This is all yours now, and more.”

You couldn't, you couldn't allow yourself. You weren't supposed to be here. It was only a matter of time before this mix up was discovered, and a swap was arranged. You'd go home, and some other woman would take your place.

How horrible.

“But is everything to your liking? Do you need more light? More space? Is the bed all right for your leg? A good height?”

You were more than a little wary about getting into bed with him here, but as you hobbled over to it, he remained at a distance. You sank onto the plush mattress, with it's silky green sheets and thick comforter. It was very nice, soft and smooth, and warm, despite being placed on solid stone. Hopefully the blanket would ward off the slight chill that followed everywhere you had been so far.

“It's a good height,” you said, “especially if I get a new cane.”

“Excellent. Would you like to see my quarters?' he asked, “You may come and go between them as you please.”

Which meant that he could too. You didn't find that reassuring.

“Uh...isn't that, um, inappropriate?” you asked, casting about for any reason to refuse. “We haven't even, um, there hasn't even been a wedding!”

He paused, then his face broke into a beautiful, glowing smile. “Of course. I understand. You want that big celebration, naturally. Well, it is only fair, isn't it?” He sat down on the floor next to your bed, as if forgetting that he was a prince and a god, a powerful figure, abandoning his dignity to sit on the floor like a child.

“Do you want to plan it, or leave it to the advisors? Asgard is very good at grand weddings, but if you've had some specific plan for it, I'm sure we can accommodate it.”

“Uh...” This would be the perfect opportunity to stall. You could buy so much time with this! “I would like to plan it. There's things I've been wanting to do since I was a little girl. It would be a dream come true, to plan my own wedding.”

Not strictly true. Certainly, as a little girl you had contemplated flowers and a dress. There being a groom was far less important.

“Then begin any time you like.” Loki said warmly. “I'll have notebooks brought to you, and you can plan out whatever you want. Whatever it is, we can do it for you.”

You almost felt bad for what you were going to do, but on the other hand, you didn't trust him and his terrifying adoration, and horrible power over your life and safety. You'd make as many impossible demands and take up as much time as you possibly could. If it kept you safe. If it kept you from the nightmare scenario.

“I will have your bathing chair brought. You seem tired; shall I have dinner brought to you? We can dine in your audience room. We can have you measured for a new prosthetic, and for a new cane as well. The artificers will set to work on them immediately.”

“Um, sure. That sounds fine.” Dinner would be welcome, after only one apple and one cup of water. And a new, higher tech leg and cane might help you escape faster. You should take every opportunity available to you.

Loki helped you out to the largest room, with it's bookshelves and seating, and saw that you were comfortable. Then he bid you stay put and wait for a bit, while he got everything set up. You were in no shape to try for an escape right now; you would just bide your time.

You waited patiently, taking in the details of the beautifully precise stonework that made up your new-temporary-living quarters. What incredible workmanship. Shame it had been wasted on you.

Maybe someone else would have been thrilled. To have wealth and power, security and luxury, a handsome prince just handed to them with no effort on their part at all. That wasn't what you wanted though; you didn't want to join the lucky ones. You didn't want to be lifted out of your hardships and set above your peers, you wanted those hardships to be eliminated for everybody. You didn't want to be a social climber, you wanted a more equitable society. This fantasy was worthless to you. It had all been done without your consent.

A quiet knock on the door grabbed your attention. You didn't answer immediately, and the knock was hesitantly repeated.

“Um, come in?” you called.

The two adolescents you had run off before cracked the door open and peeked their heads in.

“Your highness?” the girl asked.

“May we enter?” the boy finished.

“Yeah, come in. I'm in a better mood now.” you said calmly. No need to be rude to them now that she knew what was going on. If Loki hadn't even known about the kidnapping, there was no way these kids were in on it.

“We were sent here to get measurements?” the boy-Andvarri wasn't it-asked shyly. “For a prosthetic leg, and a cane?”

“Yes, I was told you might be coming. I'm sorry about earlier: I was very disoriented and confused.”

“No harm done, your highness. This won't take long.”

The girl-Bjarkehilde-helped you stand as Andvarri took several measurements and asked about your preferences in weight and materials, flexibility and points of articulation, even colors and decorations.

They were going to put in a lot of effort to help you escape. A fine efficient leg, a sturdy lightweight cane, and Bjarkehilde even asked about what kinds of medication you needed, and for what.

Bjarkehild was surprisingly close to your height and build as well. That stayed in the back of your mind for a while after the two of them left.

As the minutes passed, you began to realize that you were going to need some kind of clock. You had no idea what time it was. There was no visible sunlight, the lights in your rooms hadn't changed at all, and no one had mentioned it at all. How did the Asgardians know? Was some kind of internal timekeeping part of their natural abilities?

Maybe it was the nebulous grasp of time, maybe it was the fading adrenaline and setting in of weariness, maybe it was residual drugs working their way out of your systems, but you began to feel strange as you waited for Loki to return. Either you felt hot, or the slight chill that was prevalent in this place was getting worse. Perhaps you had been staring at the artistic walls for too long, because the colors seemed to be vacillating between painfully saturated, and fuzzy at the edges.

It seemed to take forever for Loki to return, carrying a tray of food and drink. This he set on the lovely stone table before you, and then took a seat in a nearby chair.

“You must be ravenous by now.” he said, and you were. You leaned forward to inspect the offerings. The metal tray was filled with small stone bowls and plates, and two small cups of liquid. Was this how meals were traditionally served in Asgard? A great variety of small portions?

One of the cups turned out to be orange drink, from powder. You recognized that taste from your childhood. The dry air had made your tongue rough, and the acidic flavor was a blast on your tastebuds, as bright as the colors on the walls. The second cup was some kind of brown broth, possibly also from powder, as it got thicker at the bottom of the cup. There were dried apricots, soaked in honey, and dates, a barley porridge with a swirl of honey and a dash of cinnamon. There were common Saltine-type crackers that went with a very strange stew that looked like it was made, not just with re-hydrated vegetables, but re-hydrated meat as well. It tasted fine, but the texture left something to be desired.

You barely noticed. You wolfed it all down as Loki just sat and watched, having brought nothing for himself.

“I see you needed the fuel.” he commented, after every bite was gone. “Yes, I think you will need it. Beloved, I must tell you something about that apple you ate earlier. I can see it's effects are starting to take hold. Like I said earlier, I had thought to feed it to you slowly.”

“The apple? What...what's it doing to me?” Beloved? He was taking things a bit far, wasn't he? But you definitely were feeling weird. Uncomfortable. “I had just woken up and I didn't know where I was, or what was going to happen. I didn't know where my next meal was coming from.”

“And I understand that now, as I did not then, or I would have refrained from putting it out at all. But it's too late now. For several things. We will simply have to adapt and endure.”

“Endure?”

“I will not leave your side, you may count on that.” He promised. “But that was a special apple. Its tree came from a cutting, taken from a remnant grove in Vanir territory, as part of their peace treaty with us. A sacred tree whose fruits provided the Vanir with ageless warriors. For us, they heal terrible wounds and sickness. But for you, they are known as the Apples of Immortality, and they confer a great gift indeed. But it is not without price.”

You doubled over in pain.

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres Chapter 3: Mercurian Merengue

Chapters: 3/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel),

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

Starlight

I will be chasing a starlight

For the rest of my life

I don’t know if it’s worth it anymore

Our hopes and expectations

Black holes and revalations

                                           Muse-Starlight

You awoke in tremendous pain. That wasn't actually too unusual; you'd run out of your pain medication recently, and hadn't had the money to refill your prescription. It was far worse today though, and you groaned. It felt as if you had been dragged backwards down a flight of stairs.

You were having a hard time moving, like you were trying to swim through thick mud. Limbs heavy, and bones feeling like plastic, you rolled onto your side.

You were still wearing your leg. Weird. You almost never fell asleep with that thing on anymore. You must have had one hell of a night. Where had you been?

That's right! Your spineless boss had fired you. Fuck. Had you gotten wasted or something?

No.

No, those G-men had nabbed you! They drugged you with something. No wonder you were so sore and groggy: You were wasted, and those assholes had probably handled you like a sack of potatoes. You were likely covered in bruises now.

You slowly pried your eyes open to be met with an unfamiliar, dimly lit room, mostly unfurnished and uniform. There were no windows, but two doors; one open and leading to what appeared to be a restroom, and one closed.

There was an end table next to you that looked to be made of stone, with shelves carved into it. A cup of water and a plate with apple slices rested atop it. You were suddenly overtaken with hunger and thirst, having no idea how long you'd been asleep. You snatched up a slice of apple and stuffed it in your mouth, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

The bed was also made of stone, though covered with a soft mattress and warm blankets. You didn't see your cane anywhere. The bastards probably left it in the alley. You leaned against the wall instead. It was also stone, as was the floor. Everything in the room, in fact, aside from the apple, water, mattress, pillow, and blankets, was made of stone blocks, flawlessly smooth and perfect. It was a creamy gray-white mostly, with a line of pale orange blocks at about hip level.

The light came from hidden fixtures, affixed into the walls near the ceiling, covered with what appeared to be carved panels of cloudy crystal. It was lovely, and very foreign.

Where were you? You shoved more apple in your mouth, and took a swig of the water.

How odd. The apple was truly delicious, better than any you'd ever had. The water tasted of absolutely nothing. The room also smelled of nothing, nor did the hospital gown you realized you were wearing. You had been changed while you slept. Distressing.

You sat back down on the bed and ate. The apple was gone all too soon, but you were still hungry. That was nothing new. In your life, sometimes it came down to medical expenses or food. At least you'd had an apple and a cup of water. In a situation as uncertain as this, you would be glad to have had it.

But why were you here? Those two men had kidnapped you, for sure, but to what end? What for? Because you were an agitator? You'd heard stories recently about community organizers being targeted, grabbed off the streets and tossed into vans, or yanked from their own homes in the middle of the night. You weren't important like that though. You didn't organize, you just marched. You had no power, no voice, no following. You just marched. You'd borne the brunt of police brutality along with thousands of your fellows across the country, but it wasn't as if anybody knew your name.

Why had they taken you? And so violently? So brazenly? What did they want from you?

There was a light knock at the door, and you jumped in surprise, toppling over with a curse. Two people rushed into the room, and to your side, expressing concern. You flailed at them, trying to bat them away until you realized they were attempting to help you. You allowed them to haul you to the bed and sat yourself down.

“Who are you?” You demanded. “What do you want from me?”

They were children, basically. A girl and boy, teenagers. The boy had a basket on his back.

“I'm Bjarkhilde. This is Andvarri. I am an apprentice healer, and he is an artificer.”

“I've come to measure your leg, my lady.” Andvarri said politely, setting his basket on the stone end table. “We intend to make you a new one. Lighter, more functional.”

“M-my leg? A new leg? Why?” This was baffling. Why kidnap you, just to send children to see to your medical needs? “No...No. Don't touch me. What do you actually want? Who do you work for?”

The teenagers glanced at each other in clear confusion.

“We work for...the healers? And the artificers?” Bjarkhilde said.

“And ultimately the Crown?”

“What crown? What do you want? I said don't touch me! Get away from me! I'm not giving you anything!” You snapped, slapping their hands away.

Bjarkhilde grabbed Andvarri and his basket.

“We should come back later.” She said, dragging him back out the door.

It was fine. You didn't trust them. They worked for whoever had kidnapped you. You didn't owe them the time of day.

You didn't even know the time of day.

The outburst had left you worn out, that and all the sudden movement, and whatever drug was left in your system. You sat back down on the bed, head swimming. Were there guards outside the door? It didn't seem to be locked. Maybe you could find a nurse and ask for help.

You hobbled to the door, out into the hallway. But the sudden brightness of the lights out there hit you like a punch in the head, and you stumbled.

Someone caught you before your face smashed on the stone floor.

“Careful love.” That someone said. You blinked, eyes dazzled. “You might not be in the right shape for exertion just yet.” The voice was low, and carried the echo of a growl, but no anger. Whoever it was lifted you effortlessly into his arms, and carried you back to the stone bed and the dim light.

“Oh, you've already eaten the whole thing.” He said. He must have meant the apple. “That was faster than I expected. I would have liked to feed it to you myself, but...Oh well. This will speed things along, though it might be more unpleasant than it would have been if you'd eaten it over the course of a few days.”

“What are you talking about?” You demanded. He had taken a seat on the stone block end table, a crow against the creamy walls. Or maybe a magpie, as he was pale about the face and hands, but black accented with green everywhere else.

“I've given you a gift.” he said with a little smile, but gave no other information.

You scooted to the opposite side of the bed.

“Where am I?”

He blinked, the smile fading. “You are in Asgard, of course.”

The words almost slid off of you, they were so ridiculous. Asgard? Asgard was a mystery. It barely existed. It was nothing more than a collection of cosmic refugees who had been granted land to rebuild by the U.N.-but no one seemed to know where. No one was reporting new neighbors building alien architecture. No extraterrestrials were walking into local coffee shops after a long day of work. No one even knew where they could be. Even the remotest islands could be contacted, even Antarctica could be seen on Google Maps. But the greater public had found nothing.

The Asgardians had a spaceship that came for supplies every now and then, but it seemed to have some kind of invisibility device, because as soon as it lifted above the clouds, it would disappear, undetectable by telescope or radar, to fly off to whatever secret stronghold they had been granted. No one was able to trace its movements back to its home.

It made sense, of course. If Asgard wasn't hidden, they would be plagued constantly, by curious humans, by horny humans, by worshipful humans, by hateful humans, by vengeful humans. Asgard was a source of great controversy. The people of the God-Hero Thor, greatly beloved and celebrated. But also the people of the Mad Conqueror Loki, loathed and feared. What if more of these Asgardians turned out to be like him? That was the great worry of most of Asgard's detractors. What if there were more Lokis? Even though Loki had been declared dead years ago, what if he had a following?

“Why am I in Asgard? Why did you kidnap me?”You demanded. What could Asgard possibly want with you? It made no sense at all.

The magpie's eyebrows were practically beetled now. “Kidnapped? You were kidnapped? By whom?”

“What do you mean 'by whom'? By you! Your goons!”

“I don't have goons! And I didn't authorize any kidnapping! I thought it was just some Earth custom!”

“Earth custom? Custom for what? Why could Asgard possibly want some drugged out woman? Wait, are you after human slaves?”

“No!”

“You are, aren't you? Well guess what, fucker; you got fleeced. Whatever you paid for me, it was too much! I'm completely worthless!” You yanked up the hem of your hospital gown. “Check that out, eh? No leg! And on top of that, I'm incredibly disagreeable! No friends! No cheery personality! Totally worthless. Good job, asshole! You're getting nothing outta me!”

“Don't say that.” He said, rounding the bed. You scooted back to the other side.

“Sucks to be robbed, doesn't it?” You taunted.

“No, don't say you're worthless. You're not worthless!” He insisted.

“You don't know that. You don't know anything about me.”

“I know you are strong and resilient. You walk on a leg that isn't there, like an Asgardian warrior. Are you in pain? Please, we can make medicine for you. Let me help you!”

“You just stay over there!” You pointed at him, as if to keep him at arm's length. It worked too; he came no closer than the end of your fingertip. “If I'm not a slave, then I've got rights. You owe me big time, buster! You owe me answers!”

“Anything you want.” He said, hands up in front of him in a placating gesture.

“Alright. We'll start with...Who are you?”

He gave you an absolutely dumbfounded look.

“You don't know? How can you not know? Did they tell you nothing?”

“I already said I was kidnapped! You think I had a nice conversation with them?”

He shook his head, disbelieving. “Something is very wrong. Please, will you tell me what happened? From your perspective.”

“My perspective? Hmph.” This guy was acting so clueless, it was almost insulting. “From my perspective, I went into work in the morning, and by noon, I'd been fired. My boss said it was because of my arrest record, but it wasn't.”

“Arrest record?” Now he sounded scandalized.

“It was bullshit. I was at a march a couple months ago, and one of the cops sent to break it up shoved past me and tripped on some garbage. Started shouting that I'd knocked him down. Me! He dropped me on my ass and started hitting me with my own cane. Right up until my leg came off, which I guess startled him, because he stopped doing it. His buddies still came over and arrested me. Against the law to get my own ass beat, I guess. They let me go the next day, because there were a thousand phones on them and the video was everywhere, from all angles. Still had to fight to get my leg and cane back. Damn cane was a little bent since then, but it's gone now.”

The man simply stared at you, expression of shocked outrage stretching his features.

“Your lawkeepers attacked you for no reason?”

“Oh no, there was absolutely a reason. To send a message. 'You aren't people, and we will hurt you to keep it that way'. They've been sending that message for decades, but they've really ramped it up over the past couple presidential administrations.”

“Unacceptable.”

“True. But it's a lie. That's not why I got fired, or else it would have happened after I was released. No, I was fired because two MIBs came in and said so.”

“MIBs?” The mans slowly growing confusion was reaching his voice now, driving it upward.

“Men in Black. Nameless, no I.D. government agents, meant to be secret and interchangeable. They came in about lunchtime and pressured my boss to fire me. And he caved fast.”

“The spineless wretch!”

“That's what I thought too! Lower and middle management are a bunch of wet noodles. Mouthpieces. So I grabbed my stuff and left. That bitch Betty smirking the whole way.”

“Betty?”

“Don't worry about her; her kids are all gonna leave and never talk to her again as soon as they turn eighteen. But those sleazy G-men stalked me, and dragged me into an alley, and drugged me. And then I woke up here. In...Asgard? You said Asgard, but why? Why would anyone in Asgard wanna kidnap me? I'm no one worth kidnapping. I'm not even worth selling, especially not to some fairy tale kingdom. Why am I here? Tell me why I'm here!”

The strange magpie man had slowly sunk down to sit on the opposite end of the bed-still at arms length-and picked at his palms, staring down at them like he was about to cry.

“This is terribly wrong.” He said quietly. “It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I don't understand. This was a clear attempt at reconciliation, a grand opportunity to form powerful links between our peoples. Why sabotage that? Why do this? You are not even related to your nation's ruler, are you?”

“We don't have a ruler!” You insisted. “We have a temporary leader who is supposed to be democratically elected! I don't care what that guy thinks, we are going to keep fighting his takeover at every turn! And no, I'm not related to that dictator wannabe, I think I'd die of shame!”

“I see...so it was a sham from the beginning. I have been duped by your shame leader. I, of all people. And what of you, my dear? Caught up in all this, without any choice of your own. But it's already done. I can't take it back now. What terrible situation have we put you in?”

“That's what I'd like to know.” You said. He sounded remorseful, but he still hadn't answered your questions. “Who are you, and what is all this about?”

“My dear. My poor, sweet dear. I am so sorry. I can't undo it now. Please, please, I know this may come as a shock, but please do not be afraid.”

“Way too late.”

“I know. I know. I'm sorry.” He stood, formal and imposing. “My name is Loki; I am the Crown Prince of Asgard. And I asked not for a slave, but for a bride.”

#danceofthespheres #loki (marvel) #loki x reader

[realityhelixcreates]

Dance of the Spheres chapter 2: Solar Samba

Chapters: 2/?

Fandom:  Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG 13

Warnings: drugging, kidnapping, forced marriage

Characters: Loki(Marvel), Heimdall(Marvel)

Additional Tags:  Loki Goes Overboard, But When Doesn’t Loki go Overboard, Mature Reader, Disabled Reader, Political Intrigue

Summary:  

You are the sun and I am just the planets Spinning around you Spinning around you You were too good to be true Gold plated But what's inside you?                           Fall Out Boy-Last of the Real Ones

Loki stepped into the blinding bright sunlight of their new homeland. How unlike Asgard their new world was! But it was home now, and it was only a matter of time until their ancestral splendor was rebuilt.

He was dressed in his very finest, as befitted the occasion. Heimdall, positioned at the edge of the light and the darkness, gave him a suspicious gaze.

“Far be it for me to question my liege...” He began.

“A joke?” Loki asked.

“Perhaps. But Thor will awaken. The Sleeps have never been permanent. When he wakes to find what you have done-”

“But we don't know when he will awaken.” Loki pointed out. “Until then, rulership falls to me, and since there are alliances that must be secured for the future prosperity of our people, that duty now falls to me...Oh stop looking at me like that! It was a big decision on my part as well, you know. Besides, it's better that I do it. Thor must remain free of such things, at least for a while longer. And what does it matter if I gain that much more notoriety upon the pile I already have?”

“You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself.”

“Just send me.” Loki said grumpily. “It's past time. It won't do to keep the poor woman waiting.”

                                                                              ******

“This is the place?” Agent Jad asked, pulling up to what appeared to be nothing more than a barren lot. “What a shithole.”

“Nothing there to be ruined by the blood.” Agent Browne grumbled.

“It's just a job.” Jad said. “You can't get twisted about this kind of thing. Anyway, let's get her out of the back.”

The two agents pulled you out of the back of the car, lugging your limp body to the appointed spot. They lay you down in the dirt, Browne glancing back at the car.

“What about her cane?”

“Is she really gonna need it?”

“No, I guess not. Just toss it out the window when we leave, I guess.”

A loud roaring screech filled the air around them.

“Time to go!” Jad said, both agents dashing for their car. The light from the Bifrost crashed down where they had just been; a curtain of prismatic flashes carving its distinctive mark into the empty ground. A figure appeared in the rainbow spangles, tall, with a flowing cape and curved horns.

“That's him!” Jad said, starting the car.

“Enjoy your dinner, you sick freak!” Browne shouted out the window. “You'd better pay up!”

Tires squealing, the car sped away into the night.

                                                                     ******

Loki watched the humans go, confused by their parting shouts. This was not the greeting he had expected. For one, he'd thought the area would be filled with celebrants. This was supposed to be a grand occasion. It was why he had chosen this empty place: so that it could be filled with people.

Where were they? Where were the dancers, the musicians, the food merchants, the laughing, playing little children? Why was it so dark? Why were the only other humans driving away, shouting insults? Why was this woman lying in the dirt? This wasn't what he had asked for.

There should have been celebrating. Instead, a woman had been dumped, seemingly asleep, on the hard ground at his feet, and left there all alone. Like a bag of garbage.

Something was very wrong. But Loki was alone with you now, and it seemed that no one else was coming.

Perhaps this was some strange Midgardian custom that he was yet unaware of? There were just so many, too many to keep track of, an incredibly rich tapestry of ancient, yet constantly changing cultural practices and traditions. It made for interesting study, but he hadn't learned this one yet.

Though it wasn't quite what he had hoped for, he technically still had what he wanted. You had been delivered, as agreed. He knelt beside you, touching your shoulder. Why didn't you wake?

You weren't dead; a quick check confirmed that. Just asleep. It was so very strange. He allowed himself a moment to take you in, sprawled in an ungainly pose on the hard ground. Dressed in what he believed humans in this nation considered 'business-casual', like you weren't even important. You should have been wrapped in silks, strewn with jewels. He would have to take care of that later. He hoped those disrespectful escorts of yours hadn't been rough with you; it didn't seem as if they had been properly gentle.

Well, he had come here for a reason. The platinum ring shone in his hand, catching every tiny light. This was it. The most important decision he would ever make. Every second of his life after this would be different.

He took a deep breath, and slipped the ring onto your left ring finger. The warmth of your skin activated the spell within the metal, sizing the band to your finger and dividing itself into a second band which shattered, flew across the space between you, and solidified into a new ring around his own finger.

He felt the band tighten into a comfortable fit, and with his last few moments as a free man with a free mind, he marveled at the magic-such complexity, such elegance, such grace, and such power...power beyond his, beyond any he had ever seen. Beyond even Odin.

No wonder the witch was so feared.

Then the ring finished its duplication, and the delicate runes on both flared, bringing the full spell to life.

And for the first time since he had fallen from the Bifrost, Loki was filled with...

Love.

Pure and unwavering, it bubbled joyously through his blood, fizzed in his brain. Everything he had lost to the depredations of Thanos, his followers, and especially the mind stone. Love, affection, joy, gentleness, real pleasure...all had been taken from him, twisted by the stone and replaced with empty facsimiles. Loneliness, rage, covetousness, disappointment, and bitterness. Satisfaction is not in my nature...because it had been taken from him.

He had never found any cure. While the people he had controlled with the stone suffered certain psychological effects after release, those effects had gradually faded over the years. But not for him. The corruption of the stone in him had gone on for longer, for much deeper.

But now it was over. Everything flooded him, all the things he had lost. All centered on you.

“Praise be to Gullveig.” He whispered, gathering your unconscious body in his arms. Something felt odd about one of your legs, but tears were running down his cheeks, and he couldn't pay attention. Not with you in his arms. His love.

His wife.

                                                                            ******

“It is as you said. Something is wrong.” Eir mused. “She will not wake because she has been drugged. Some kind of primitive anesthetic. Effective, but rather dangerous. I do not believe it was properly applied.”

“But why?” Loki wondered. “Human customs are baffling sometimes, aren't they? Why drug a bride into unconsciousness before sending her off?”

“Perhaps she did not want to go.”

The possibility quieted Loki. That was not a thought he had yet entertained. He didn't want to.

“There are other things.” Eir continued. “She shows some signs of ill health. It seems she has seen hard times. And then there is the leg.”

“Yes, I knew something was wrong with it.”

“Indeed. That's because it isn't there.”

“Pardon?” Loki asked in surprise. He'd been so distracted, he hadn't even noticed.

“She wears a prosthetic, also somewhat primitive. It appears to be an old injury. She has only about half of her thigh, and the pelvic bones are misshapen. Whatever injury caused this, it shattered her hip, and though it seems the pieces were put back together, they healed imperfectly. Her whole body has reshaped itself around it. She must be in pain very often.”

“Is there anything you can do?” Loki asked. He couldn't stand the thought of you suffering day in, day out. What horrible thing had happened to you? Whatever it was, he would keep you safe from anything like it.

“I can synthesize pain medicines.” Eir said. “Her body chemistry indicates that she had been taking such things, but not for a few days at least.”

“Would an Apple help?” Loki persisted.

Eir pursed her lips, remaining silent for so long, Loki thought she might not have understood.

“You will have to give her one anyway.” Eir said slowly. “But I want to make it clear that it will in no way change the shape of her body. It will preserve what is there, but her leg will remain as it is. We can build her a better prosthetic, but you will have to speak with the Artificers about that.”

“Yes. I'll get the measurements taken as soon as possible.” Loki said. “Something fit for her new station. When do you think she will wake?”

“This anesthesia should wear off within a day.” Eir said. “It's not that powerful. If I knew when it was administered, I could make a better guess. All I can suggest, my liege, is that you prepare what you need for when that happens. It might be as little as an hour, or as long as a day.”

“Thank you, lady healer. You are a boon to our people.” Loki kissed her hand. She gave him a wry little smile. “Take young Bjarkhilde with you. She's eager to be of help, and too curious about our new guest.”

Loki retrieved the adolescent girl, sending her off with orders to fetch an Artificer, to measure you for a new prosthetic leg. He envisioned a creation of high quality ceramic and iron, rich jewels to decorate it's surface. A work of art for you, even if no one else was meant to see it.

The Apple he fetched himself. They were in incredibly short supply, and no more would be grown for some time. He would deliver this in person.

You still slept deeply as he cut the Apple into slices, every now and then looking over at you and wondering. What was your name? What did your voice sound like? What color were your eyes?

Would you love him too?

The spell would not apply to you, only to someone as uniquely damaged as himself. If you had the capacity to love, the spell would not effect you.

He hoped very much that you could love him. He knew these political matches didn't always lead to romance. What was good for the kingdom wasn't always good for the individual. But he desperately wanted to try.

He set the plate of Apple slices on the table beside your bed, along with a covered glass of precious water. It was in greater supply here than expected, but it had to be gathered from around Asgards' new lands. There were no rivers or streams in the area to be diverted. But the water was there, along with all their other resources, if only they were willing to put in the effort to go out and get it.

He left your side only reluctantly, though he knew if you woke, someone would come and tell him. But he had a few other things to do. Industry was primed and ready to explode into productivity in any area he directed it. And there were a great many possibilities there!

Mining was probably going to be their greatest bringer of wealth, especially in these early years of rebuilding. This land had once been heavily volcanic, with towering mountains, and vast lava fields. The records of Midgard and the exploration of his own people had revealed strange riches, rare minerals, all that could contribute to the wealth and beauty of Asgard. All too late for Midgard to take back.

Loki wanted to prioritize the metals, the iron and titanium, and especially the platinum, with which they could create their own components and construction materials. It was too expensive and difficult to continue transporting so many goods to their remote location.

That being the case though, perhaps he ought to concentrate more on increasing the productivity of the local soil. It needed a great deal of amendment and treatment: Loki knew full well that the botanical barrenness of the area was part of the reason Midgardian authorities had agreed to let Asgard settle here. Asgard knew how to transform bare wasteland into something fruitful, and the human rulers very much wanted to see it in action.

It might also be important to focus on acquiring wealth. They had unearthed beautiful gems-bright pink spinels, brilliant peridots, spectrolites, moonstones. There was volcanic glass, mostly in green, but also some strange reds, yellows, and oranges. They had many of the components for porcelain, and other high quality ceramics, and for traditional glass as well. The wealth that could be accrued from these things could alleviate their problems with supply transport.

There were so many things to focus on, but so few bodies to throw at them. It felt like dividing that focus would simply not be fruitful enough to keep them afloat. Things were already difficult, and Loki didn't want to rely overmuch on the charity of humans.

Although, he had just recently made an important connection to a powerful nation. That should help their situation quite a bit. That was usually what these kinds of arrangements were made for. Ending hostilities, securing trade, and so on.

Perhaps he should try to reach out to Thor's friends. Most of them lived in the country he had just tied himself to, and perhaps this gesture of good faith would alleviate their wariness of Asgard's presence enough that they might be willing to help out as well.

But maybe not yet. Not until Thor had awakened.

He entered his brother's resting place, deep in the royal chamber complex, taking a seat next to his bed. He could just barely see Thor, deeply asleep, shrouded by the same golden field that had covered his father when he fell into the torpor that sustained his power.

That force had fallen on Thor now, bestowed from beyond the grave;a final gift-and insult-from Odin to the new Allfather. Although, seeing how helpless, and frankly useless Thor was right now, Loki wasn't sure he even wanted it.

“I wonder if you can hear me?” Loki mused. “Odin supposedly could, but he never responded to anything I said. Well, whatever. I will speak anyway. I want you to wake. I know, I know, I get to rule now, legitimately. And I have proven to be proficient at doing so. But I feel like it would be better to do this together. That other me did say so.”

That other him who had come out of nowhere and slashed Thanos' hamstring while he dangled by the neck from the Titan's fist. The other him who had grabbed him, his brother, Heimdall, and a few others who weren't quite dead yet and cloaked them all with invisibility, who had sent them to the escape shuttle with the rest of the survivors, who had hissed to Loki: “Do it right this time, stay with him and do it right!” and, “Odin didn't lie, he just didn't realize he was telling the truth!”, and “Fix yourself, whatever it takes!”

And then was nowhere to be found.

Loki couldn't help but feel like something different was supposed to happen back then. After his other self left, he had felt even more wrong, more empty and out of place.

Fix yourself, whatever it takes.

Well, he was working on it.

“I told you some months ago that I was contemplating taking a bride.” Loki continued. “She has arrived today. It was a little strange, I must admit, but I can't begin this relationship by judging her customs, can I?

I've had rooms built for her. I tried to make them beautiful, inviting. I hope she likes them. I wonder if she is afraid? Humans have many different cultures, but their nobility doesn't seem so different. Political pawns from birth, and they know it. Just like myself. But just because you know you will one day marry a stranger, does not mean it is not still frightening. After all, some human rulers became famous for how poorly they treated their wives. If you saw that a man had his wives killed, and yet people continued sending their daughters to him, would you not dread when it came to be your turn?

I haven't killed any wives. I haven't had any. But I have killed so many of her people, and they cannot have forgotten that. Was she frightened when they told her? She must have come into this thinking she was to be wed to a murderer and a madman. I want to put that notion out of her head as soon as possible, but it would help quite a bit, I think, if you were awake.”

Thor had fallen into this deep sleep almost immediately after they had settled into their new lands. Rulership had fallen to Loki then, and he had spearheaded the building of their new home himself. They had built as close to the Asgardian aesthetic as they could with the materials at hand, but there had still been a lot sacrificed to compromise, lack of time, and the rugged environment of their new home.

Thor had no idea what their growing kingdom even looked like, or the innovations they had come up with in order to survive.

He would be in for many surprises when he finally woke.

He had better wake.

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[therealityhelix]

Dance of the Spheres 3

Mercurian Merengue

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[therealityhelix]

Dance of the Spheres 2

Solar Samba

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[therealityhelix]

Dance of the Spheres 5

Martian March

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