The Secret Asgardian (An Avengers Fanfiction)

Chapter 42: Loki's Dungeon

42. Loki’s Dungeon

It was cruel really. Beyond cruel, actually.

We’d been in these cells for two days now.

And we were all becoming ... restless.

I sat behind the bars of my tiny cell which consisted of a bed with a rough blanket and a bucket - no guesses for what that was for. Across the small hallway was Tony’s cell, equally small. We were just out of arm’s reach of each other.

Thor’s cell was on the same side as mine, though one empty cell separated us. Diana’s was opposite my uncle’s, and I could just see her, sat there on her bed, waiting.

Waiting for what, I wasn’t sure.

Tony sat on his bed, absently running a hand through his hair. They’d taken his suit away, leaving him in his jeans and t-shirt. I could just see the Iron Man suit at the far end of the corridor, guarded by our jailors, who were Peter and Clint. I hadn’t seen Natasha yet. They sat at a wooden table, a pack of cards before them.

I narrowed my eyes at Peter, though he didn’t notice, too engrossed in his game. Thor and I had been injected with his Spider Venom, meaning that we couldn’t escape the cells even if we had wanted to. It had taken its toll, and I hated the weakened state I was forced into.

 “I’m bored!” I whined loudly, in the pettiest and most childish voice I could manage. If I was going to be a prisoner, I wasn’t going to make it easy for the jailors.

Clint and Peter didn’t even look up from their card game. They were playing ‘21’ and it was Clint’s turn.

Tony got up and leaned against the bars of his door, casually looking at Peter’s cards.

“Peter has a two and a four. I think you should ‘stand’ Clint – the cards you have must be better than his,” Tony remarked casually, and Peter threw down his cards in frustration.

“Stop ruining the game!” He exclaimed, turning and giving Stark a glare, and I knew that Tony was going to get into his annoying mood, which was excellent entertainment for me.

“Why?” Tony asked innocently.

“Because!”

“Because what?”

“Because you shouldn’t be talking anyway – you’re a prisoner now.”

“Says who?”

“Loki!”

“And that makes it true? Kid, it looks to me that you’re more of a prisoner than I am.”

I snorted, but Thor and Diana remained silent.

Peter didn’t bother replying, and Clint sighed and began to shuffle the cards again.

“So how’s Natasha?” I asked him nonchalantly, and Agent Barton stiffened but remained silent.

“Where is she?” I continued in a light tone.

“She’s busy,” Peter replied sharply as Clint began to open his mouth slowly. Barton’s mouth snapped shut again.

“Busy doing what?” Tony chipped in.

“Stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Stuff,” Peter said firmly, clicking his fingers under Clint’s nose as a vacant expression crossed his face.

“Oh. That stuff,” Tony agreed, and I smiled.

“Talk to each other instead of me – you’re getting on my nerves,” Peter snarled, and Tony looked at me with a wicked grin on his face.

“Hi, firefly.”

“Hello, Tony,” I replied easily, playing along.

“What are you up to at the moment?”

“Not much, just hanging out in my cell. How about you?”

“Same here. So ... have you seen the weather we’re having?”

“Not really, it’s kind of hard to see outside from this angle.”

Since the dungeons were below ground, we hadn’t seen sunlight in two days, and the depressing gloom was taking its toll on Diana and Thor. I think that Tony and I weren’t as negatively affected yet because we were more spirited, what with me being the Goddess of fire after all, and Tony being ... well, Tony.

“So ... what’s your favourite colour?” Tony continued, just to irritate Peter, who looked like he was going to shoot us his webs if we didn’t shut up.

“Red, of course!”

“Cool, same here. I have a particular fondness for hot rod red.”

“What’s your favourite food?”

“Do you even have to ask? There isn’t another food that compares with Shawarma. How about you?”

“Out of all human food, I’d have to go with chocolate.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

We continued asking these basic questions, slowly learning more about each other and aggravating Peter with each one. After we had exhausted our supply of simple questions, and were silent once more, Peter sighed in relief.

“Finally! Also, hit me,” He said to Clint, and who gave him another card.

Tony and I burst out laughing as Peter threw the cards down on the table in fury as he lost again.

“So what’s your favourite card game, Tony?” I asked sweetly.

“Oh for God’s sake!” Peter exclaimed as a new round of questions started again.

I grinned impishly at Tony, and we both made a silent agreement, without even having to tell each other, to give Peter and Clint the worst time of the lives.

“Oh, and Peter? I’d take another card if I were you – a three and a six won’t help you win,” Tony pointed out absently, and Peter’s head fell into his arms as Stark and I snickered.

We were going to be the worst prisoners ever...