Fickleness of Fate | Loki Laufeyson

Chapter Ten

Their heavy footsteps echoed around the confined tunnels within the helicarrier, a warning to all of their impending approach. Loki's taller form strode through the hallway with an assurance in his steps, infuriatingly behaving as if he weren't the one with his hands bound in cuffs behind his back. Harry continued to glare at the back of his head, urging him to expose the play that was obviously in motion. Two troop of armed guards that were under her command remained a metre behind and ahead of them, the witch the first line of defence if Loki were to try anything unusual.

But she knew he wouldn't - couldn't.

Though as they strode past the laboratory that she knew Banner occupied, the man looking up from his current research to glance at them through the glass window, she felt a spike of raw power. Her thoughts were only confirmed when the doctor reached upwards to rub at his eyes after Loki exited viewing range.

Harry could make out the sly smirk that played upon the gods face, her own magic rising with anger at the entitlement this man wore like clothing. Without even having to raise a hand in signal, her powers rallied into a force, creating an invisible façade palm and throwing the projectile at Loki's turned cheek.

The man's head snapped forwards, as if he had been pushed. As if he had been slapped.

And when his steps attempted to falter, most likely to turn to spit an insult at Harry, she turned the invisible palms into balled fists to push harshly against his back. He stumbled forward, attempting to regain his balance with an unknown being forcing him forwards.

"Do not discredit yourself by having me carry you," Harry threatened, allowing all those in her company to hear her.

"Watch yourself, witch," Loki responded in a low gravely tone.

Harry smirked unkindly, her magic unfurling to concoct an unseen foot-shaped object. The original invisible fists remained steadfast in pushing the god towards their destination, but with another flick of her finger the boot was sent sailing towards the man's leather covered glutes. Satisfaction tingled through Harry to watch the man winced slightly, hurrying his steps on instinct to remove himself from a threat.

"Glad to know that all you needed was a kick up the arse," Harry replied sadistically. The guarded men in the front of the envoy entered into the next room.

Loki did not have time to reply as he was roughly grabbed, the soldiers escorting the dangerous man into the glass cage that stood in the centre of the room. One control panel could be seen, which was where Harry spotted Director Fury overlooking the scene taking place. Tearing his gaze from Loki, the Director's one remaining eye locked on to hers, providing a quick nod of his head in a silent dismissal.

With one last glance at Loki, who was now staring at her with gleaming contempt, she exited the room with a smirk plastered on her face that she knew would invigorate the man. She turned right hoping to head towards the bridge for a debrief, but instead she was faced with another imposing figure.

At least this one was not hostile.

"Thor," she acknowledged, now with a genuine smile upon her face. He stared down at her with amusement, though his eyes darted to the barred room she had just left. "Your brother's a handful."

"I'm aware," his booming voice responded, side stepping to allow Harry to continue her journey with his company. "When we were children, he once transformed into a snake knowing of my love for them. When I picked it up, he transformed back into himself and stabbed me. We were only eight at the time."

Harry had slowed her pace as the story progressed, though finally halted to stare open mouthed at the finale. The image of Loki's eyes mutating in colour danced in the back of her mind, but she must have been mistaken - how could he have transfigured himself with magical bindings in place? "You do realise that's a clear sign of a psychopath, don't you?"